A Story of No Return

Time for a Story of NO RETURN     Wednesday, June 19, 2013

                    As our semi swerved and fishtailed coming to an abrupt stop, I woke up in the cab sleeper. I could see by the flashing lights that there was a fuel tanker blocking the road. Steve had fallen asleep behind the wheel. We almost died in flames. But no, just close, no explosion. Steve kinda blamed me for not staying awake after telling him several made up bizarre stories. Sleepy bye bye stories that almost made us go boom boom. My stories made him skate down the highway, eyes closed, as truckers are reported to do from time to time.

                     When we got to a truckstop, Steve was still scared and pissed. He said, we almost died and asked me if I even cared? I said I was glad we were still alive, but if we had died, we wouldn't be around to care anyway, so what difference did it make. He accepted my logic but it was a small comfort. I was just a hitchhiker. Why should a nobody like me end up being the reason why Steve stopped driving all together. It would seem I'm not the only person who gets dangerous highway hypnosis, bad. Who would have thought that entertaining stories about aliens in flying saucers the size of dinner plates could end up so scary.

                      I had no comprehension that this was the beginning of a strange wonderful profoundly disturbing relation with one of the most brilliant amazing messed up people ever. Chance encounter with Steve meant life was on detour into the world of the unknown. No return.

Zenophile: Rare Perception

                   The time has come to tell you why old seers never die, we just float away.

                   As my life's work is coming to conclusion, I'm seeing the world and all it's people take a giant step back. I still have a couple of years as I've written, it's going to be weird for all of us. But my reality has continued to deepen. It's like my brain has actually grown a pair of legs, and all the intelligence that comes from personal freedom of heart and mind has only made me smarter.

                  The net result of a lifetime of spiritual technology, produces results both subtle and overwhelming. I no longer need to talk to people except to maintain social courtesy. I can aways use a fresh outlook on particular points of view. But because of the way awareness scans the field of inquiry, my ravenous appetite for learning means I pump people dry. And I never fully forget. I'm incapable of missing people. You are always fresh in my thoughts. I still have desire, but not much. As a reader, this really isn't about me. It's about what happens to you, the reader, when you too become read.

                  Time sped up, but the world and everything in it has slowed way, way down. I not only can see your point of view and complement it with mine, but I can also extrapolate from mine, to yours, to the rest of the world and everyone else's in it. It's almost impossible for me to want to talk to someone without a simple objective, no matter how small. Otherwise I try to shut up and just watch. I went through my second puberty getting my health back at fifty, and now I'm returning to silently witnessing everyone just like I did in my preschool years. My Mom thought I was dumb, literally.

                  I know that when I die it will start out with the same experience I had being born. (When I told my mother that I remember being born, she shook her head in disgust. From her wheelchair she glared and said,"If you remember being born, you deserve it." "You were a horrible birth." She was right, at the last moment before delivery, I hear my parents argue and I turn around inside my mom. Tangling the cord around my neck and going footling breach, I was dying. Stars of shimmering semi consciousness manifest as a shivering orb of mercury, expanding to meet the ever increasing weight of my mothers organs contracting down on me. And as the pressure increases to the point of almost ending my life, I had grown as this quivering mass of reflective liquid to the size of one of my universal infinitudes. BANG! She somehow managed to push me out. My parents never wanted children. Eventually my mom learned to love me, blah, blah blah.) But yah, death, personally it's not always a big deal. Most people generally don't want to know how and or when, but as the pro psychic I'm cool with that and I never try to bother people with things you don't really have reason to know about.

                  Oh yes, I almost forget, we're falling up. That's right. Fly away little fledgelings, fly away.