The Crackpot Crow

 

 

 

 

The majority of people probably know how intelligent and clever crows are. But did you know that, just like humans, they suffer from mental disorders? Actually, not really sure that they suffer from things such as depression, OCD, or other maladies of the mind, but it would seem that way just based on what I observed recently. I think it's fair to say that, at the least, they perform rituals...just like humans!

As per my usual schedule, I was waiting for a train at a major train station, and enduring the plethora of god damn noises that the train company  apparently (and perhaps passive agressively) has no problem assaulting peoples' ears with; construction noises, various repetitive loud announcements, screeching train wheels, and so forth. At any rate, there I was looking  down rather vacantly at the train tracks from a platform when I spied a sleek luxuriantly feathered crow between the tracks a short distance away. It was busily engaged in some activity but I couldn't make out exactly what it was that it was engaged in. I moved closer to where it was but it was so busy that no doubt under normal circumstances, it would have surely flown away as I approached. However, in this case, It was obviously too intent on seemingly accomplishing some task that it completely ignored me.

The rail tracks are filled in with large chunks of sharp edged gravel and it was this that the crow was busily sorting through with its beautifully polished sharpened beak, picking up one rock and moving it to another spot then picking up another and moving it to a different spot and so on for several minutes. And it wasn't  just moving large chunks of gravel, some of which seemed hardly possible for the crow to move, but it was also plucking tufts of grass growing between the rocks and covering the spots from which the crow had moved the rocks. I wondered, what on Earth could this fella be doing, apart from the obvious? It was undoubtedly the most curious thing I had seen in quite some time. At some point the crow must have realized that I was watching it, with some degree of amazement no less (no one around me seemed to even notice what appeared to be for all intents and purposes some sort of compulsive ritual) and possibly out of embarrassment or maybe just because it just wanted to take a break, he hopped up onto a rail and began to stretch his legs and wings. But after a moment or two the gravel which the crow had such a curious and keen interest in lured him back and he began his sorting task once again.

Again, after a period of sorting and plucking, the crow suddenly stopped and and stared at me for a moment and then with its pristine beak picked up a hefty chunk of gravel and flew across to the other side of the train tracks above another platform where there was a ledge. A few minutes later, a crowd of people began to arrive and were conveniently enough (for the crow at least) walking toward the bombardier.  

They say that crows have an uncanny ability for remembering peoples' faces and is depicted in fables and myths as being very cunning. In one fable a crow comes up to a pitcher and knows that his beak is too short to reach the water that is too far down in the pitcher and he realizes that if he tips it over, all the water will fall out. So what does the crow do? The crow then proceeds to pick up pebbles and places them in the pitcher so the water may rise and he can reach it to relieve his thirst. It's not a far stretch that crows are not incapable of that kind of cleverness which brings me back to the bombardier crow. As he was perched on the ledge with the sizeable rock at his feet looking toward the oncoming traffic, it seemed as if he were patiently waiting for someone, maybe eagerly so. Unfortunately, the train I had been waiting for had just arrived and blocked my view. There was no way to know what had happened after that but we can guess with reasonable accuracy as to what the mischeivous and clever crow did.

Ouch! 

The Hotel of Tomorrow

                                   

                               

 

There are people,  hotel trend setters to be more specific, who  undoubtedly need to be on some sort of medication (or "meds" if you prefer). In fact, they probably are on 'meds', just not the kind that are prescribed for an actual medical condition. According to a report entitled "The Hotel of Tomorrow Project", apparently certain individuals in the hospitality industry believe that they can go into a bank with a business plan that will revolutionize the whole concept of hotel accommodations, amenities, and services. These people, who must be insane, see the hotel of the future as one that will be equipped with rooms that have walls that can instantly change color, carpeting that can morph into whatever texture pleases the soles of a guest's feet, and bathtubs that can change shapes to accommodate the various body shapes of the hotel guests. However, if we are to assume that such things are possible, and that the people who stay in such places have got more money than Aunt Jemima's got grits, then we can also imagine what a conversation between a hotel guest and a desk clerk might sound like at the hotel of tomorrow. The following is an example.

 

Clerk: G'day mate. Throw a shrimp on the barbie?

Guest: What?

Clerk: Can I help you?

Guest: ...Yeahh, I'd like a room please.

Clerk: Alrighty. What's your favorite color?

Guest: Gold, but what does that have to do with the price of tea in China?

Clerk: Well sir, our in-house decorating services personnel can provide a wide range of design features to choose from to make your stay a pleasant one, indeed.

Guest: Don't mess with me, pal. I've been in crowded airports, filthy airplanes, and smelly taxis all day long and I'm not in a joking mood.

Clerk: I hear you loud and clear sir, and I can assure you that I am not joking.

Guest: You better not be, or I will make sure that you get your walking papers. Are we clear?

Clerk: Yes sir, crystal clear, sir... So you're favorite color is gold?

Guest: Yep, on second thought, perhaps gold walls are not really conducive to restful sleep. Make that violet with gold trim, if that's possible.

Clerk: Certainly sir. Have a look at our menu to choose a style of carpeting to suit your taste.

Guest: ...taste?

Clerk: Yes sir, you can choose from chocolate, vanilla, Neapolitan, orange sherbet and spumoni.

Guest: Dude, what did I tell you about messing with me?

Clerk: I am not messing with you sir. These are the colors to choose from. Also, these are the textures:  shag, plush velvet, and astro turf.

Guest: Okay, give me the room with the orange sherbet Austin Powers shag. A couple of broads are coming by later, so that'll help to make things more festive.

Clerk: Certainly sir. We will only need a few minutes to paint the walls and change out the carpet.

Guest: (disconcerted expression) Are you telling me that you don't already have a room with those colors and style of carpeting?

Clerk: No sir, not at this very moment.

Guest: Well...when can I have the room?

Clerk: Just as soon as Pedro gets his crew out of there.

Guest: He's already in the room?

Clerk: Yes sir.

Guest: How long does it take to do those things?

Clerk: As I told you before sir, just a few minutes. He's very fast.

Guest: I don't understand. You are actually customizing my room and remodeling the whole damn thing, even though I'm staying for only one night? Is that correct?

Clerk: Yes sir, and it's not exactly cheap either.

Guest: So, how much is this going to set me back?

Clerk: Are you a member of Triple A or Diners' Club?

Guest: No.

Clerk: Well sir, let me look at your shoes. (clerk leans over the counter) Those are some really nice loafers. Are they Corinthian leather or horsehide?

Guest: What the...! Just give me the room rate, would ya, pal?

Clerk: Of course sir, the rate is $988.79 per day.

Guest: Just what the hell is wrong with you? Do I look like some kind of jerk? I'm gonna jump over that counter and give you a thorough beating, if you don't come up with a figure that is considerably more reasonable.

Clerk: Yes sir. How about a 10% discount?

Follow the Money

 

 

 

What it comes down to is this; the global elites who control the U.S.( a corporatocracy) are apparently more effective at steering agendas than Russia’s oligarchs or China’s rulers are and that's why the global elites (so-called lluminati) appear to be winning the geo-political war against Russian nationalists at this stage in the game, if you will. American allies in Asia and the EU and NATO seem to have Russia (and China) pinned down, at least for the time being. Based on patterns in recent years, A typical scenario  for the global elites (someone such as the politically active multi-billionaire Soros), in their relentless quest for world domination, would be to finance highly organized and well-funded NGO groups and send them into certain areas of the world that have some high value natural resource or is in some way strategically advantageous to the globalists so as to instigate protests and other anti-government actions until perhaps the governments of those respective countries collapse. The elites who control the West undoubtedly had some hand in doing that in Libya and Egypt in recent years. They’re doing it in Syria and Ukraine now. They are continuously trying to stir things up in Iran and have tried to gain control in Cuba by constantly trying to assassinate Castro. There are many other instances. This outrageousness is all paid for by American taxpayers who are like mushrooms kept in the dark and fed manure because they (Americans) are funding an incredibly huge military budget to the tune of well over 600 billion dollars a year just so the globalists can take away more of our freedom and make us, the people of this world, slaves.

Back to the global elite and why they’re more effective than Russia and China at maintaining control. It’s rather simple. They use eugenics as a method of population control, they put fluoride in the water, mercury in vaccines, process food with cancer causing GMOs, all of these things and more of which are either poisonous or in some way disrupt our body’s natural functioning processes. These sorts of things lower IQs and weaken our cognitive abilities. It is scientifically proven. It is on record. You can look it up. In fact look up everything mentioned. Don’t take my word for it. Search the word SERALINI and find out the disturbing truth about genetically modified food.

 

China’s elites have tried to curb population growth with their one child policy but there are other governments that are, ironically enough, using taxpayers’ money to be used for population control methods. All kinds of chemicals, fillers, coloring, and preservatives are used by food manufacturers to make processed foods.‘They’ also manipulate the value of currencies, cause inflation, create recessions, depressions, etc. They’ve been doing this for a long time, since the time of Napoleon, in fact, but most effectively ever since the Federal Reserve was founded in 1913. The Federal Reserve (the Fed) is essentially a printer of fiat money that is not actually backed by gold (or anything of value for that matter) since there are no longer gold coins in circulation that an individual can use to barter with. The global elites drive up inflation (increases in food prices and gas prices have doubled since Obama was elected!) and they devalue the dollar so some or many younger people are left with no other choice but to join the military which enables the Defense Department to do the globalists' bidding and blow up 'unfriendly' governments and install ‘friendly’ subservient governments that abide by the illuminati globalist’s agenda. ‘They’ also launch false flag attacks like the one in Ukraine with the air liner and the one with the Kuwaiti ambassador’s daughter lying and posing as a nurse in testimony, where she said she was in a hospital in Kuwait where Iraqi soldiers threw babies out of incubators on the floor to leave them to die. Oh no! We gotta save the babies from those devilish Iraqis, Let’s go to war! But it was really because Saddam Hussein was going to stop trading Iraqi oil using the dollar. You see how that works? And of course we believe it, because MSM says it’s true.

Putin and Russia’s elite are old fashioned and have a strong sense of nationalistic pride but it seems they are ashamed of their communist past, and rightly so considering the mass murdering Stalin and the Bolsheviks' assault on the Russian citizenry. It’s on record, Putin and other Russian elites are very close to the Russian Orthodox Church and were disciples of Alexander Solzhenitsyn who was a World War 2 Soviet vet who was sent to a gulag on petty charges. He obviously became anti soviet after that and advocated a very strong nationalistic Russian government model after the communist regime’s collapse. The globalists’ have absorbed a number of the former Soviet Republics in Eastern Europe and are trying to do the same in Central Asia. It may be only a matter of time before the Russian government collapses (and China also), and then the globalists will likely bring in the world government.

The number of crises (the so-called “great recession”, Russia / Ukraine problem, bailouts, immigration reform, gun control issue, etc.) going on right now at the same time appears to be done to create instability and eventually bring about martial law to then collapse the country and set up the one world government like what they’re doing in the EU, for example, Greece. Who knows? Maybe ‘they’are even bringing Ebola disease here to the U.S. to cause a frightening epidemic that could then bring about martial law. Obama already has the authority to do with this with the so-called Patriot Act and the recent executive order he signed in which it apparently states that he can have any one detained who is displaying symptoms of a respiratory illness. Then you have what’s going on in Ukraine which is meant to back Russia up even farther into a corner and then start a war which would conceivably destroy Russia ( with most unpleasant repercussions) which would be carved up by the globalists. Lastly you have borders over run with more illegal immigrants coming into the U.S. overloading the welfare system paid for by taxpaying Americans. The Democratic Party can then get in a stronger position of power and finally take away American’s guns which would create a backlash and a civil war which would likely be the end of America as we know it, coupled with the currency collapsing by design also.

These ‘people’ (devils) are assaulting us through every means you can imagine and they brag about it in books, interviews etc. Again, look it up. They hate humanity, and they hate that we have freedom or some variant of it. Now you ask, who might these so-called people be? They are, in fact, the ones who control the Federal Reserve, CEOs on Wall Street, the IMF banksters, the World Bank, the EU, the UN, NATO, elements in our own government, and multi-national corporations, such as Monsanto, et al.

The Interpreter and His Dream

Some years ago when I visited Japan on business, I met an Englishman who worked at an import company as an interpreter. At first glance, he impressed me as someone who could have procured a very lucrative income in Hollywood playing the part of a henchman or mad scientist. But in spite of his somewhat intimidating countenance, he was actually a likeable and charming fellow whose personality was uncannily like that of John Steed from the Avengers, a television show that was popular in the 60s.

In the traditional sense he was what one might call a 'gentleman', with his Savile Row sense of fashion and an impeccable command of the English language. But there was one problem. He didn't have the kind of money that a gentleman normally has, which is to say, a pot full (at least as far as I could tell). If he did, he most likely would not have been working in a cramped and dingy office, unless he is the sort of person who somehow finds virtue or merit in testing his resolve to do so. In any case, while sipping suds at an ex-pat watering hole one evening with the interpreter, some interesting things were revealed. The gentleman, whom I will now refer to as the fashion fascist, due to his fondness for expensive designer suits and shoes, as alluded to previously, mentioned that before he came to Japan, he had been experiencing a so-called "re-occurring dream". In the dream, he said that he was a Japanese soldier on a South Pacific island during the Second World War. He described how U.S. soldiers had landed on the island and were successfully advancing. The fashion fascist continued to say that the American G.I.s eventually overtook the Japanese positions and that a G.I. bayoneted him and he died or rather the dream ended at that point (that's not a pun). That's when I interrupted his story and mentioned that perhaps he had too much of an interest in war movies. He assured me that he did not. Still, there was some doubt. He said that for many years the disturbing chimera would visit him while he slept, but when he came to Japan he no longer experienced the re-occurring nightmare. I asked him if he was able to get a good look at the G.I. who had stuck him with the bayonet and he said, no. Then I said that maybe the soldier who had bayoneted him was perhaps myself and that by some act of karma, if you will, we had to meet each other to completely expunge any residual details, possibly still lurking, of that horrific nightmare that he had repeatedly experienced.

At that moment it suddenly occurred to me that I had missed my true calling and then I wondered how on Earth I could not have noticed how perceptive I was about these sorts of things before. As I stood at the bar, I imagined myself sitting in a burnished saddle leather chair in a richly paneled office with certificates and degrees dangling on the walls. But alas, the pleasant daydream turned to regret as I saw myself jumping out the window to escape the endless stream of disturbing dreams and schemes as related to me by my patients who seemed to have little self control with their apparent need to reveal their innermost secrets and distorted fantasies, even though it was my job to lend a supportive ear and to be paid handsomely to do so.

As for the fashion fascist, the last I heard, he had quit his job and joined the Foreign Legion.

 

No Worries!

 

 

A waiter in a fancy restaurant goes up to a table and greets his customers. After taking the customer's order, the waiter says, "Thank you."

The customer says, "No worries!"

or...

A shopper purchases an item at a department store. The customer hands money to the clerk and the clerk says, "Thank you" and the customer replies, "No worries."

I've been hearing this expression more and more frequently these days, and no offense to my Aussie friends, but I wonder; since when in the U.S. did we decide that the folks "down under" have a better way of acknowledging someones appreciation? Personally, I think the expression should remain in the "land down under" or, at the least, not be bandied about so haphazardly or thrown around so preponderously that it becomes a veritable cliche. Besides, it doesn't even make sense unless someone apologizes. Then, it's okay. For example; "I'm sorry I spilled coffee in your lap!"

Then the individual who is recovering from shock and awe can say, No worries!!! (or sue for damages).

 

And while we're on the subject of words and phrases that get on one's nerves, how about the term "annoying".  A woman whom I used to know would say, "That is SO annoying!" and then all of a sudden everyone in the office was saying, "He is SO annoying!" or "She is SO annoying!" or  "You are SO annoying" Within a matter of weeks, it seemed the whole city was using that word. For some unknown reason, the word "irritating" was no longer used, even though it's  a perfectly useful word to describe the same feeling. In any event, The woman who was always SO annoyed is the same broad with the nasal inflection that used "No worries!" all the damn time. She is an expert at propagating memes, no doubt.

 

Curiously (there's a good adverb for ya),  gay people or should I say "LGBT" folk , to use the current vernacular, evidently prefer to use the word "annoying" (as opposed to the less popular adjective, "irritating"). My guess is that this kind of meme (annoying) is one that replicates more effectively within that sort of demographic. I would venture to bet that if we did a survey with our Twittering friends (or real friends and co-workers) to see which words irritate them the most, we will likely find that someone we thought was straight is actually in the closet.

Lately, I've been saying to people, "Have a nice day!" I know it's overused so that makes me guilty of calling the kettle black but I like saying it! Actually though, I'm doing a test to see if it becomes a meme and spreads to Australia.

When my wife and I went shopping not long ago, store clerks would greet us with, "How are you guys today?" or "What can I help you guys with, today"? And this is the honest to goodness truth; I stared at one dude for a moment and in a cheerful tone and I said, "Do you see more than one guy standing here?" And dude replied, "Sir, it's a universal expression used for greeting anyone, male or female." "Well alrighty then. If you say so."

I'm out of the loop, I suppose. No... In fact, I know I'm out of the loop (how far outside of the loop, I can't say), but the fact that I didn't know what LGBT meant until just recently is a good indication that I'm no longer hip to the jargon of the day. Before I learned the meaning of that acronym, I thought it was some type of sandwich.

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

Wake Up!

 

 

 

Not long ago, I read a news article about a German couple who had (before going on vacation) rigged up a speaker on the outside of their house that was directed toward their neighbors' home and was connected to an audio system with a timer that would play in twenty minute intervals, the sound of a rooster crowing between the hours of 3:00 and 4:00 AM. No details were given as to why, but it seems reasonable to to conclude that the respective neighbors were having a feud of sorts, or else the pranksters most likely were, and still are, deranged. It reminded me of a series of unpleasant events that happened some years ago in an apartment building in which I lived.  About a month after I had moved into an apartment, several college students moved into the one just below mine. Evidently, they were music students attending a nearby music college, judging from the parking decals on their vehicles. At any rate, pretty much right off the bat, they became the proverbial "neighbors from hell" when very early one morning, I was awakened by music and other noises coming from their apartment. I figured it was an isolated incident so I put some plugs in my ears and went back to sleep. However the next morning at about the same time it happened again. This time, I stomped on the floor and they turned their guitar amps down and whatever else was the source of the noise, and I went back to bed. I assumed that all they needed was a some sort of a hint, though one would think that anyone would have enough sense to realize that people were in bed and sleeping at that hour. But as you no doubt guessed, the little butt heads did the same damn thing again the following day. Presumably, they were going to bars and clubs and staying until closing, and then returning to their apartments where they would continue to party,  play their musical instruments, and engage in orgies. After several days of this, it became quite evident that no amount of floor stomping was going to stop them from making people's lives miserable. So I decided to go to plan B. Those punks obviously had no idea that they were living below an individual who was going to feed them a dose of their own bitter medicine and make their lives a living hell, because in the room just above their bedroom was the room in which I kept a state of the art stereo system with 100 watt "A" rated speakers that were as big as Konishiki.

 

Normally, out of consideration for others, I would use headphones when listening to my stereo, especially if I were listening to, for example, The Who, which was absolutely mandatory to play at the highest volume possible without shattering glass or blowing out one's eardrums. I had even placed the speakers on noise suppression pallets to eliminate as much of the vibration as possible. Those numbskulls had gone too far and they were about to have a most unpleasant experience. I removed the suppressors, not without some amount of difficulty as the speakers were very heavy for one person to move. Then I tilted the speakers toward the floor and propped them up at about 45 degree angles. Since I had to get up relatively early every morning, as did the other tenants with normal working hours (Don't ask how I know that. I just do), I would start off the day with a huge rousing wall of sound. Trying to decide what to play wasn't easy, however, as I have what I consider to be an excellent selection of everything from classic to classical.  As I thumbed through my record collection, I envisioned those brats spooning and snoring and possibly dreaming sweet dreams, and I laughed rather sardonically when I came to Beethoven's 5th Symphony. I removed the album from the cover and cued the needle to the intro, and turned the burnished steel volume knob...DA DA DA DAAAAA...I knew those numbskulls were having rude awakenings (as it were) and maybe even experiencing cardiac arrest as well. If only! They had it coming, though, and I was glad for it. Holy Canoli! The walls were shaking and books were literally falling off the shelves. 

 

However, just like clockwork, the following morning the stupid bastards were at it again although I know damn good and well I jolted their asses mightily the day before. Okay, I said to myself when I got out of bed at daybreak and went into the stereo room, "What shall I play today ?" Again, I leafed through the record collection and with a gleeful grin I plucked the Jimi Hendrix Experience album from its record sleeve and placed it on the turntable and cued the needle to "Voodoo Chile". "Dig this!", I intoned somewhat loudly. Though there is absolutely no doubt that I had rattled their skulls, they would not relent as was evidenced very early the next morning, per usual.

 

This had turned into an all out war. So the next day I played Deep Purple's cover of "Hush", a hard rock version of the original. It seemed those nitwits were as impervious as cockroaches that survive nuclear blasts. Still I continued to wake their sorry asses up every morning just like a drill sergeant. Instead of reveille, however, I played everything that I had in my record collection that was sure to wake the dead, and yet the little beasts would not give in.

 

Then one evening I stopped by Maria's for her usual Sunday soiree which I always looked forward to since I could eat the best Italian food that side of New York. Her nephew, Frankie was there as usual and as usual he and his aunt were arguing. Italians have a propensity for doing that somewhat regularly. they'll argue till they're red in the face and then one of them will leave the room and five minutes later he or she will come back into the room and both will act as if nothing had happened. I guess it's an Italian form of therapy. In any event, I said, "Hey Frank, I've got a little problem with some punks that live below me." He said, " Yeah, like what?" I told him what was what and he said, "You've got two choices." I said , "Yeah? What are they?" And he said that we could have a little talk with the mooks (which, in Italian, is code for a beating) or I could play some Italian opera on my awesome stereo system. I said I would try the opera first. So I played some Rossini and then some Verdi every morning, loudly of course, and within less than a week the orgies abated and then, Blink! just like that...the inconsiderate punks were gone.

Copyright Ⓒ 2005 / All rights reserved

Any reproduction, sale, distribution, or otherwise of this work is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

 

 

 

 

There are more than a few theories regarding the purpose of dreams and what they could mean if we are able to ascertain the meaning (assuming there is meaning to be found) in our dreams. In primitive societies, dreams are a means by which shamans and medicine men communicate with the spirit world. there are accounts throughout history of how holy men in tribal communities have been able to foretell future events by carefully studying the disparate details of their dreams so as to arrive at a relevant explanation of events yet to come as related possibly symbolically. The importance of dreams in certain societies can be shown to be especially revelatory. In 1875, During a major ceremonial event between the various tribal groups of the Sioux and the Cheyenne nations, the great chief and much respected holy man, Sitting Bull revealed a vision  to those attending the important occasion. Sitting Bull intoned, "The Great Spirit has given our enemies to us. We are to destroy them. We do not know who they are. They may be soldiers." Given the harrassment and the arrogant demands of the U.S. military, there can be no doubt in the minds of those who heard Sitting Bull that that was who he was referring to.  Within a couple of weeks, thousands of Sioux and Cheyenne warriors would wipe out General Armstrong Custer and his army at the Battle at Little Bighorn (Custer's Last Stand) thereby giving much credence to Sitting Bull's revelation.

 

 

Psychology offers other reasons for the purpose of dreaming and how we might be able to make sense of our passion-winged ministers of thought.  A Jungian psychologist would suggest that dreams relate to an archetype of one sort or another. Freudian psychologists always point out that everything is connected to the libido, or rather, is symbolically male or female. The cannon is the phalus, the bag is the vagina, and the plow is intercourse, etc. Some people claim that they don't dream, which is unlikely (unless they suffer from a sleep disorder). There are some people who say that they don't dream in color. Maybe they're color blind. But in all seriousness, more likely, it is because the colors in their dreams quickly fade upon awakening.

 

 

As for my own experiences, one morning not so long ago, I awoke from an especially strange dream that was, due to its vivid details, easily recalled. It was twilight and I was standing in front of an abandoned cabin in the midst of a fog. Nearby were other people also facing the cabin. Just then a figure emerged from the cabin and walked calmly toward us. As the figure came more into focus the details revealed the head of a coyote (or a jackal) but the body of a man. When the coyote-man came within several feet of me, he stopped and stood perfectly still. I looked at the other people, whom I didn't recognize, expecting that someone may want to say or do something, but they looked at me with that look that said, "This is your dream. Its your call." So with some trepidation, I walked around the figure examining and wondering what to do. It didn't seem to pose any threat, so I slowly approached the coyote-man and opened its mouth and peered inside expecting to see a person's face, assuming of course that the figure was wearing a mask. Even after I had determined that it wasn't a mask, I was still unsure. Then I stepped back and glanced at the other people and said, "If this is a prank, you've done one helluva job." Then the coyote-man spoke,"What have you learned from this?" His soft spoken self composed tone of voice reminded me of the wandering character in the Kung Fu series from the 70s that starred David Carradine. I answered, "I realize this is going to sound cliche, but could it be that one should not always take something at face value?" Actually, I thought it was a clever pun on my part. He then replied, "You can believe what you want to believe or not believe what you don't want to believe. Either way, it doesn't matter."  And then I awoke.

 

 

Upon reflection and some research, I came up with this analysis. The figure very much represents Anubis the Egyptian god of the dead who is associated with the process of mummification. So far so good. But what does the appearance symbolize and what did the conversation mean. Anubis in a person's dream could mean that the person needs spiritual guidance and (or ) is seeking clarification on an issue. Now that would make sense because of the conversation. But that's the puzzling part. So let's see, Anubis (assuming that that was whom I spoke to), appears to be saying that it doesn't matter what we believe because our beliefs are inconsequential to Universal Truths since humans are presumably programmed or "hard-wired" (in the DNA) with a limited ability to use their minds to their fullest potential. We've heard it said that humans use less than ten percent of their brain power.  That may be true when considering that all the major religions believe that each one of them has the keys to heaven and to believe otherwise is to be an infidel, a heathen, or a non-believer. Hmm. If we used at least 10 percent, maybe we would realize for example, that both the Republican Party and the Democratic Party are really just two sides of the same coin. You see how this works...It just doesn't matter what you believe! 

 

 



Copyright Ⓒ 2005 / All rights reserved

Any reproduction, sale, distribution, or otherwise of this work is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

 

 

        Jump!          

It was many years ago on the very day that I got my drivers’ license, back in the day when a gallon of gas was 50 cents and the Watergate Scandal was the biggest political bombshell to hit the nation in modern times, that I roared out of town in my cool dad’s very cool 1968 360 Go Pac Javelin and headed for my family’s cabin in the mountains. It was summertime and I was looking forward to doing all of the things I normally did when I was on the mountain which included fishing, canoeing, swimming, and horseback riding. But that trip would prove to be quite different from the other times that I had spent there, not because of the fact that I now had a much desired drivers’ license, which allowed me considerably more freedom to go wherever I wanted, but because of a momentous event which very nearly cost me my life.

 

 

The area where I spent many happy summers was and still is the location of a tremendous amount of natural beauty. There are canyons and caves and waterfalls everywhere. Not far from our cabin is one waterfall that a conquistador supposedly ‘discovered’ while looking for the legendary "Fountain of Youth". Often, I would go there with friends and family and we would climb down the side of the canyon to the pool and swim out under the cascade to feel the water tumble over our bodies in cool torrents. Sometimes it was risky if the water was flowing too copiously from the ledge but the thrill was always worth the risk.

 

 

Just before going to the mountain, I had watched the movie, “Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid”. Not only did it star two of the coolest actors of Hollywood at that time, but the story was, for me personally, one that reflected a sort of adventurous lifestyle that I could relate to, one that I had been fortunate enough to experience in spades while growing up during those halcyon summers that I spent on the mountain exploring meadows and forests learning about nature. In one of the scenes of the movie, the two famous outlaws escape being caught by a posse by jumping off of a mountain cliff into a whitewater river. I was so impressed by that scene that I resolved to do something similar in order to experience the thrill of jumping from such a dangerous height. The waterfall under which I had enjoyed swimming numerous times offered the challenge I sought.


It was a beautiful hot summer day when I arrived at the waterfall
with two of my brothers. As we were walking toward the fall, I told them that I had planned to jump from it. They must have thought that I would not actually jump from a height of more than a hundred feet, or surely they would have immediately stopped dead in their tracks and tried to convince me that it was not a good idea. But since they must have assumed that I wasn’t crazy enough to do that, they didn’t protest but rather continued to walk excitedly to the trail leading down the side of the canyon to the base of the cascade for a refreshing swim while I stood above the canyon pool considering the jump. As I stood on the ledge patiently waiting for them to swim out to the cascade, I watched the billowy clouds lazily drifting across the azure blue sky. I looked down at the dark emerald green pool and was mesmerized by the reflections of the canyon wall on its surface. A soft breeze stirred the surface of the pool and shimmered with sparkling reflections of sunlight. The sound of the churning waterfall reverberated and encouraged me.

 

After my brothers had swum out to the base of the fall, I stepped closer to the edge next to and just above the waterfall and yelled down to them to check to make sure that it was deep enough and to see if there were any submersible objects such as tree limbs. Evidently I was more concerned about those things than the impact of my body slamming against the water’s surface. Even then I suppose they thought that I wasn’t foolhardy enough to do it but they went through the motions anyway and yelled back that it was safe to jump and then without hesitation, as if on cue, that is exactly what I did.

 

As I fell feet first at approximately hundred miles an hour, I flailed my arms wildly and, no doubt, I appeared as someone who imagined that he could fly. I had most certainly crossed the Rubicon. In that moment I realized that what I had done was a very brave thing, indeed, if not a foolish thing. When I hit the water, even though it was at a slight angle,  I felt as if I had been whacked across the back with a two by four. I plunged through the water in an arc and every bit of air had been expelled from my lungs. Then I came to a halt in a cloud of bubbles. For a brief moment I was dazed and had no idea in which direction I should swim. Then I saw the bubbles move in a certain direction and quickly I followed after them. It seemed like an eternity as I swam to the surface and was very nearly gripped with panic. When I finally broke through the surface of the water, I threw my body toward the sky like a breaching whale and inhaled so forcefully that one of my brothers later jokingly described the momentous event (as that is surely what it was), as one in which it appeared as if the trees might be uprooted by the extreme force of air being drawn into my chest. As I settled upon the surface, I began to cough violently as water sprayed from my lungs. It’s a miracle that I survived anyway, but I would have likely drowned as I had not one iota of energy left to swim to shore without assistance. One of my brothers had brought along an inflated inner tube and I wrapped my arms around it and in fits and starts I maneuvered toward the shoreline. When I reached the shore, I collapsed on a bed of gravel and although the sharp edged rocks made it uncomfortable to rest, at least I reckoned that I was none the worse for wear, or so it seemed. A few minutes later, I got up and somehow mustered the strength to pull myself out of the canyon.

Fortunately I made it to the car and we sped to the nearest hospital in the valley where the only available doctor, who just so happened to be on call, was also on the links and would not be available for a while. I could hardly hold my body up but I calmly waited in the emergency room until several minutes had passed when I couldn’t wait any longer. So we left the hospital. When we arrived back at the cabin, I went straight to the bunk room and lay in bed for a couple of days to recover.

                                 

Some months later when I was back on the mountain I stopped by to say hello to an elderly farming couple who often let me fish in their pond. I was very surprised when the old man announced to me that I was a “living legend” and that people on the mountain were still talking about my "amazing death defying leap". He further stated that I was lucky to have survived such a jump without any apparent injury. Then he mentioned that for as long as he could remember, only two other people had jumped from that specific spot above the waterfall. One of the jumpers died and the other person was paralyzed. I knew that jumping off of the waterfall was risky but it never occurred to me that it would make me a celebrity of sorts. In hindsight, had I known about the fate of the two other individuals, would I still have done what I did? At the least, I think it would have given me pause to consider when such an act is brave or if it is something else, stupidity perhaps.

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Any reproduction, sale, distribution, or otherwise of this work is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.