Rising Sun

Rising Sun

Wednesday, October 9, 2013

Once when I was little...





Once when I was little, I was sitting a couple of feet from my grandfather on the front porch. The air was still in the morning heat which was mounting with the intentional deliberation of a large geared clock. The front porch had a stillness about it that I often wondered about both then and many years later when I returned as a grown man. It was like some sort of unearthly stage of sorts. It stood a good five or six feet off of the ground, and was the main landing to the entrance of the magical house that was the home of my grandparents in south central Texas.

Pom-pa shifted his feet. A slow act of deliberation as he slowly dragged the soul of his shoe closer to him. It sounded like a labored breath and I could hear every grain of sand trapped between the leather of his shoe and the bright sparkle of the concrete porch. While it may have sounded like a labored breath, it was more like the winding of that big mysterious clock that was even now mechanically increasing the temperature like an oven. Pom-pa didn’t seem to notice. He made me aware of my feet. My thoughts wandered between the intermittent bursts of dialog that punctuated the chewing of his tabacco. His were the shoes of a man who didn’t much care about comfort or performance. Just a piece of leather, wrapping his foot in a style that suggested a fashion long since forgotten by time itself. A big grasshopper inched his way across the edge of the porch in the now almost blinding white light. I looked at my feet. They were in sharp contrast to Pom-pas. Bright blue and white colored adidas. Even the shape of my shoe was technologically advanced. Aerodynamic. Next to Pom-pa’s shoes mine were like an exotic sports car, while his were rather like the rusted dented up old truck that he honestly seemed to prefer. But there was something about the old man. Something mysterious. Something that the little voice in the back of my head told me to hold reverence for. Something deep and exciting and frightening and amazing all wrapped up in my confusion about how to feel about this man. I sensed a darkness in him. But I also sensed a strength in him that I wasn’t certain that I’d ever run into before. Nobody else seemed to have it. It was just a feeling that Pom-pa always knew what to do. It didn’t matter WHAT happened. Pom-pa KNEW, what to do.
Pom-pa spat at the grasshopper and it stopped exactly short of it. A warning not to come any closer to the door. The grasshopper seemed to get the message and slowly retreated.
“It’s like I was telling ya Chiron, “ my woolgathering snapped to sharp focus as he broke his silence. A breath of wind rustled the leaves of the trees around us and whistled through a giant spiderweb over our heads where a spider bigger than my hand could be seen surfing the breeze. “It’s all in yor head.” I listened attentively as Pom-pa chewed the wisdom out of the tabacca .

“Say you got ta make a long trip now.” “Why what you wont to do is, yew goin’ find yo’self a beg ROCK.” I listened, enrapt with curiousity. “An’ then you goin’ find yo’self nuther beg ROCK.” “Not so beg you caint walk right, but pret near beg assa yo-cun carry.”

The cicadas let loose a silence shattering blast of sound as pom-pa continued.


“So you got TWO beg ROCKS and you go on and make yor way now, way you’ve gotta go.”

“And when you git to where you can’t go ONE STEP FARTHER, no matter how hard you try,............why you put one of them rocks down. You’ll feel refreshed and realize that you might have a LOT more energy left and can keep on goin’. So then you keep on way you’ve got to go tell you caint go ANY FARTHER. Then you put the other of them rocks down. Sure enough, like MAGIC you’ll be refreshed and can keep on goin’. It’s all in yor head Chiron, how hard things are.”

Leslie Caldwell was a mountain man. One of the last of a dying breed. A man who had his home taken from him in the name of “manifest destiny”, and his pecan orchard now resides at the bottom of lake Belton. The undocumented original discoverer of the mounds Indian burial grounds who had his find stolen from him by some collegiate academics. But that’s okay. The family knows what he did. A man who, like all of us had more than his share of demons and challenges, but who underneath it all was an incredible human being.

Pom-pa was right. I sometimes find myself back in the body of that small boy listening to him tell me about life challenges in that same matter of fact tone that he always had about him. As he used to encourage me that the true journey was not the one made by my feet, but the one made by my head.

Sunday, September 1, 2013

Tale-O'-Vision

I think most people just don't understand what "TV" really is....
Television is tool that we have adopted in place of the campfire. The campfire was the place in the evening which human beings all gathered around to converse, to settle down after eating and to muse about fact, fiction, dreams and news with each other before going to sleep and starting their new day. The community revolved around the campfire. It's where the heat and light was, where the food was, and subsequently, where the people were.

When we stopped living outside, the campfire most moved indoors to the living room or the kitchen....which is where we kept our fireplaces. Once Television came about, it slowly replaced the fires in our home but it's attributes were the same. It is where we gathered together to talk about fact and fiction, news, dreams and we watched and shared the common experience of stories with it. Now, with television, we could share stories with many people. A shared reality occurred as a DIRECT RESULT of our common experience in hearing a story on television.

As technology marched on, the attributes of television further mimicked it's campfire roots. Men who wanted to show their success bought televisions which were larger and larger. Very much like the old days when they would demonstrate their awesomeness by having the biggest campfires. Larger campfires/televisions meant more people would gather there and pay homage to the owner. This wound up being an attribute to masculinity. (because size matters) A large fire/set indicated a good provider.

So what was originally fine and good for everyone was eventually corrupted by those who began to see that they could manipulate people gathering around the televisions. They began to tell stories in such a way as to make people feel a certain way, and that's when television became a tool to manipulate those who didn't spot their own vulnerability to the stories that they were being told.

For some of us, A large TV is still a beautiful thing. It's a tool used to share stories about human experience. We watch and listen to the stories and we learn what we can from the vicarious experience of other human beings without having to actually experience the hardship we witness in our own lives. When it is over, we can walk away unscathed, but perhaps more experienced. But we are the people who have eliminated the televisions ability to sell us something by not subscribing to pay broadcast services or the "free" programming which fills our homes with the noise pollution of corporate pitchmen.

But even our limited exposure to the television is still something to be guarded about. Productions are so encompassing these days as to create a visceral experience, a peek into another world, and if we aren't careful, we can lose ourselves in the fantasy of that world. It's now more important than ever to remind ourselves, that this stuff is "just entertainment".

Of course, we can still learn useful things from the stories of fiction, because they are mostly all stories about the human condition, but we should always remind mindful that reality is right out that front door.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Just a note .....

To let people know that I'm back to writing again after a long pause. More is being developed and will hit this page soon. xoxo Chiron

Friday, November 18, 2011

Windows to the Soul.

A Woman has the power to dictate her every day.

Like a butterfly, She can light upon the space she stands

and channel in every way.

She can tilt and twist that directed at her from distress back into peace.

The sweetness of her quiet dignity, arresting all without a crease.

The stillness of her presence unmoved by doubt and fear, her sensitivity heightened

means now and then a quiet tear.

A woman in good alignment craves not the worship of those in her care, because,

A woman of good consignment carries the Goddess far and near.

Monday, July 4, 2011

America the Beautiful...

America.

The United States.

Land that I love.

Land of the free…….BECAUSE……..of the Brave.

This land is your land. This land is my land. This land is home to you and me.

There are many in the world whose lives have been irrevocably impacted by the values that America represents. America has been the big brother to the world for quite a while now. The world has looked at its people with a variety of emotion. America is like the big brother that other kids in the playground would ominously warn aggressors about. Who would have thought that, as adults, we play out the very same routines that occurred on the playground?

Times change.

As times change so do people.

The virility of the strength of America has always been its sheer number of people with shared values. The “melting pot” worked. It didn’t matter where you came from, what you had been through to get here, once you were an American Citizen, you were accepted. Included. Respected. Cherished. Honored. It is because of this many seek to serve in the world’s largest VOLUNTEER military. Those who come from places without the freedoms that many Americans take for granted, KNOW, what the value of this country is, and they often seek to bond with it by offering to defend it for a few years,….at least, historically.

Times change.

America is no longer the melting pot. People who come to America do not leave behind the customs and loyalties and language from whence they came. As a result, America is weakened. No longer is America composed of a unified resolve regarding such simple concepts as morality, honor, and respect.

America is beset on all sides by the tyranny of weak and evil men, and she is suffering.

The WORLD will become a vastly different place without the backbone of America to take a leadership position on any given topic. America serves the world even if the world isn’t in agreement with America. By offering a fixed position, America creates a framework by which others measure their own position.
“The American Dream” has always merely been a dream, but our pursuit of it has unified all of us for many years. It isn’t a “white man’s dream”. It’s the dream of liberty. Freedom. The ability to work hard to make ourselves happy without fear that the fruits of our labors will be taken away from us.

Times change.

People change.

When people no longer believe in their country, then that country will cease to exist.

Those who do not know history, are doomed to repeat it.

It’s not too late to turn all this around.

To do so will require a collective conscious effort. To do so means that we must convince newcomers that what they came here for in the first place was attractive to them because it was a GOOD thing.

To do so means that we must dispense with all of this “politically correct” HORSESHIT, and remember and honor what it means to be a GOOD CITIZEN OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

We can do it.

We can be stronger than ever before.

But this is one issue that we must not turn away from, it is something we cannot simply agree with and leave to “others” to do. It will take all of us. We MUST REMEMBER THAT OUR SIMILARITIES ARE GREATER THAN OUR DIFFERENCES. We must realize that the American flag does NOT represent republicans or democrats or government. It represents US.

YOU AND ME.

Your weird neighbor and the homosexual couple down the street. The religious, the poor, the wealthy, the challenged, the struggling, and the plain. US.

Happy Birthday America.

I love you.

Chiron

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Carrier Wave

Every once in a while something happens. Something seemingly insignificant on the surface, and yet, there is a part within that for a split second, Is blinded by a flash of lightening insight.
Something somewhere aligns with something else and there is almost a perceptible “click” as two pieces come together in a union most satisfying.
It’s strange how we can perceive something while in the perfect darkness. Our perceptions of it change based on where we are in reference to its position. We strain the limits of our perception as we attempt to ascertain what it is, its size, shape, or texture. The feelings that are evoked within our hearts can ring out in harmonic sympathy to it, like sonar. We know that it is there, but we are forced to continually ping for it, reaching to match perception with understanding. We do this until quite unexpectedly we stumble across it for a millisecond, and are at once blinded by its brilliance.
If we are not careful to stop quickly enough, we will lose it, and its mystery will haunt us long thereafter.

Such is the apparent mechanism describing my Spiritual safari. As I continue to evolve, I have recognized patterns not only in the way that I discover information, but also in the way that I am somehow subconsciously aware of HOW and WHEN to self trigger such a discovery. I have become aware, for example, by no means I am able to adequately understand for the purpose of description, able to discover a film, or a book, or and experience, which I will somehow knowingly set aside, sometimes for months, until the time is right for me to trigger it. I can tell you that it’s somehow linked to some kind of time scheme, of which I am most assuredly not the author, but that’s about all I can muster for the sake of a description. It is enough however, to reassure myself that my tour through this often bizarre wonderland is in fact a guided one, and not a self directed endeavor.

Tonight I finally popped the cork on one of these interesting little “time capsules”. It was one I had discovered much earlier and set aside for reasons unknown. The name of the film is “Revolver”, and I can only describe it as more of an experience than it resembles a story. Imagine my stunned excitement to realize it was a Luc Besson film…
With any discovery of considerable magnitude there is often created in me a type of anxiety. It is the nature of the beast that anything which might be a considerable piece to the puzzle may have dramatic repercussions regarding my personal model of the Universe, my subjective reality and the inclusive common reality’s and their variants that cluster together. A new discovery of serious proportion can be upsetting because it may bring answers to questions, or, it may just bring bigger more consternating questions. I think that this is what the variable of timing has to contribute to the equation. If the timing of an important puzzle piece is off, it may be inadvertently dismissed. However, when the timing for the release or discovery of new information is appropriate, it can act as a catalyst which stimulates curiosity down a completely new path. There is also a dark side to discovery; the unnamed fear that I have been going in the wrong direction, or that my conclusions are not sound. Sometimes, very rarely, I encounter a condition where a new piece of information is somewhat unsettling because I knew it already, but the emphasis of what I thought I knew was not accented correctly, and new information pushes a definitive emphasis in a whole new way.
Such is the case with the film “Revolver”.
This is a film with a message so big, that it’s really quite amazing that they were able to shoehorn it into such a seemingly unremarkable vehicle for dissemination. It likely should have a warning label on the jacket which states, “Warning: Objects may be closer than they appear, do not view this film alone if you have a history of higher thinking, or have experienced concurrent déjà vu’”. So, if you haven’t seen this film, there is your warning. You’ll want to really prepare yourself for a message, and ensure there is no distraction.
Now. Go take a look.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

The King…has left the building

I was going through my film collection and I decided to re-view one of my films. I was about half way through it when I felt something in my head click. It was actually kinda freaky.

All of the elements are there. I can’t believe I never saw it before.

We are nerve-wracked by his behavior before we have any sense of who he is, or, what he wants.

We are awestruck with his enormity; the unstoppable force of his Will, and the physical strength with which he enforces it.

We are terrified at what we perceive to be his unpredictable anger, until such time that his wrath becomes the shelter of our protection.

We long to communicate with him, but communication seems limited to what he will show us.

All of these qualities weigh heavily upon us, as we attempt to formulate the concept of who he is, but it is this final quality which leaves us with our mouths wide open in confusion and wonder.

We are mystified that as small and seemingly insignificant as we appear to be, that such a creature could find us lovable. Not just appealing, but that he could know something about us from a look, that is so valuable to him, that he would be willing to lay down his life to protect it.

The very necessity of his desire to safeguard us, providing him with a previously unknown purpose.

The statement was made, “It wasn’t the planes that killed him. Beauty killed the beast.”

It wasn’t physical beauty which killed the beast; it was the beauty of our innocence.

The story of King Kong is the story about our relationship to God.

It is the story that we will accidentally destroy God with our ignorance and our fear.

So what is it that we really mean to convey when we say, “The King…has left the building”?