| It Has Been A Rough Year |
I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome. I wish ...
| The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins |
The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.
http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp ot.com/2008/03/an other-2-prayer-re quest-answered.ht ml
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Richard 's Story > Categories > Fiction as if Actual (Metaphor Stories)
| Date Range: 03/15/2009 To 07/20/2100 ||
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A Place of Hostility (Mindset)
Place: Town of Sedona Arizona-
Biographical, Actual Accounts-
I saw a trapper today throw a stone. He was very good at his aim. A desert cottontail-rabbit was his dinner. My head turned to the side, in some distaste for trapping animals.
I was vegetarian. Nothing more one can say, natures course, deemed questioning.
I heard today of a small dog...
nothing more to be said.
I was beside myself....
As evening came on I was walking in the desert alone, up one hill and down another. I came to a concrete terrace which looked out.
Lines men of private sorts were lined up in camoflage, pretending assaliants, wannabes, anxious for the television action movie that could come.
It was a public terrace, that looked out, and I looked below to watch
the pretend become practiced.
I was waved away with a warning, feeling like the grenza of some foreign land..I an easy target from that range, some might say around here...good practice.
I was waved away again!
A friend showed up. I asked him what the gurrela field trials were for..
There was a funny answer:
“Oh there practicing killing each other”
I got the jist...
I just had forgotten to practice the piano, today, a much more peaceful machine
than a Smith and Wesson.
I had heard Mr S&W were not very good composers however.although you can kill some classical music, just by playing some rap next to it....wrong notes, always seemed to be an article of conversation, sometimes a key to a performance, that little grace note.
Its lucky that I have time to practice,
loving peaceful notes instead of the notes that are
blasting, roaring and put into me,
remembering all too well the propaganda fog-horn--
Worries of Social Change
Yes, it worries me what is going to happen...next. People dont respond. The cat has got their tongue. Some call it political correctness, I call it psycotic. Things are changing. I cant always breach the silence of a thirty second conversation in a day. I only faced that one traveling somewhere in Eastern Europe, another language spoken among people quite liberally..
But my tongue, my mother tongue and in my land....
No one is talking and everyone is walking around with a chip of silence on their shoulder.
I can remember when the land was free, free to live, make ones life, come and go- I can remember when people could communicate, talk and congregate- With witness I can bear to know the times when children were safe in the neighborhood and on the streets, singing, dancing and playing--But now there is a sense that this place, wherever it was ,at least in a dream , is gone now- Where it has gone? Behind high defenses, coiled wire, imaginary plutocracies? Silences? ideologies? Secretive meetings, and yess, a return to mimic, to turn and wild the were camoflage trench coats-
Its assuming, but too real that once can scratch their chin.
That I have seen these times makes me stir and wonder about the future, to those children that never saw freedom to dance and play, or see a ball in a field, going in a joyous way, colourfully speaking... and colorful, only to see an armed guard lurking about, a n armed guard at their side, looking on, readied for action because someone paid him for action, not protection, a time I see coming almost nausia where people are blocked, id’d and tagged, measured and squared in self defense of a hidden enemy in themselves-
Thats the only problem, the insecurity of the devil within!
God Bless the society of tomorrows tomorrow who may look back and say, what were were doing and what were were thinking!
Of course then it will be pages referenced in history book, people changed, and marked to remember what freedom was, wondering if it was true at any time.
Question: Where are we going from here--In the background a voice of the cafe staff, one complaining to another in conversation: "Sounds like your a senti-mentally challenged guy..."
Wondering if the voices drifted my direction on purpose-
Add note: A hawk has been seen in the vicinity- He appeared on the perch of my roof this morning, looking down intensely before flying away.
I was sitting on the veranda, and the hawk flies 4 feet distant hitting the window of my room slightly and landing right below me. A spotted variety, Arizona origin? He looked up at me intently from a very short distance although not startling me, took to his feet for a second and flew away-
There have been problems around the house where I stay however.This is not humorous, alcohol is to blame....I never touching the stuff--Some stories, rather nightmares have me worried about finding another place (pronto) to live. Nothing else is available here--the rent runs out soon putting me in a big bind---
I do not wish to live in Sedona but would rather leave. I do not want to look back--It may sound a bit harsh but if I can leave, (If this is possible) I do not wish to return, nor lay another message for others to come here...
This has become a reckless residence, although some people (and I do not know why) say its their heaven---but I can attest more than one story here, as testament to spreading my wings!
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