TheLay Lines of an Eclipse

Thatmy birthday was today was of no importance to many out there. Thatthis was simply another day seems a reasonable juxtaposition ofpoint/counter-point in the world around me. Our world, is rather acircumstance of being 'their world' in the progress of things, Ibeing but a unit among the many in some kind of narrow meaningprotocol.

Thejuxtaposition of my needs against those around me seem to have littleof no meaning. A person, no matter whom they are, or how they haveworked themselves up in life seem to be facing anagactic winds in theprotocol of these times of 'self-centered' ideology, seemingly amaxim of the economic ways and means that the entire land is goingthrough.

Ilook out upon the many, seldom looking into myself for reasonableanswers or solutions. We have developed a well silenced world to theego, and self. This seems to be not a wave of yesterday but moreaggravated, (in a musical sense staccato) today than yesterday,having longer ranges of silence to the individual, eliminating self,and radically making one wonder about the world tomorrow in thisenergy that is consuming, rather a vortex (Sedona terms) of theneedless self- analysis, and self prescription given to us by othersego protocol.

Theenergy is not willful, but consuming, and even more consuming as timeprogresses.

Dream...

Ina half-dream, lucid dream I visualize Corporate Hyper-States ofthe Future that our all consuming ego producing machines initiate,that is exactly opposite than what our soul searching rationalizationof a creative 2012, and or a better world in definition. Of course Iam seeing the old superimposed over the new, the 1910's and 1920'sworm their way into the picture, again as if a by stander watching asthe world moves around them. I suddenly awakened filled with sweat tothe realm of possibilities of iron toed boots, of some descriptionthat would be the nightmare rather than a rational future. This wasjust a dream the night before the eclipse that was to come on mybirthday...

Thiswas not the dream of a choice of possible outcome---

Slowly I arose from that dream into a wakenedconsciousness, grabbed a cup of coffee, and brought out mysketchbook, now filled with drawings...hoping and waiting for adiscovery of any talent I posses here. I make a small sketch, sharpenthe pencil and put the sketchbook aside. I do realize the world, itspotential and meaning just in the scratch work of sketches in thatbook. My hand has penned notes their. Some of them, beautiful, andsome of them tragic. In some essence of vanity I feel as though apolice sketch artist drawing the culprits and victims before thecrime occurred. How this is one can only imagine.

The coffee, today’s brew tasted good as I picked upthe sketchbook once again. I made more notes and then put it aside.This is to be part of the Journal...this journal...one day, I said tomyself in a mixture of sequences reaching for sugar and cream to makethe bitter liquid somewhat better.

Today is a birthday! Its my own. Why not celebrate thisand enjoy one day out of the many where other things other than“work” possess my mind. I worked last night producing invoices,letters and tally’s...an administrator, all I could find here tomake a sense of some balance, but acutely not being able to affordvery much outside the realm of survival. I have to invoice myself,take tally and not be discouraged about the day, or about the lifesurrounding me. That this is not the way I should be living, just onthe margin, between the covers of some journal is a 20/20 digest ofcontemporary life in what may be called a suppressive world, out forits own bounty, done with the poke, prod, and gesture of faith ofothers, not to rationalize our own picture into the continuum.

I am an artist. It is my life as an artist. What I dofor extra money is not anyone else s business nor should it be, butthis is the prod of others wanting to journey in private domainswhich are not their progress, for we have our own. Until any measureof Communism officially starts with its banners and promotions of'Man as State' or 'Worker in the State' come, undelightfully intoour present, I shall be a free man.

Unfortunately this requiem has been preformed its soulstruck sour notes in some of the material I have been reading, andcast aside as though not real, couldn’t be real, and detesting itsmodality among quasi spiritualist sequences outlined in the so-callednew age.

I continue to be a human being, struggling to survive!Oh it is far better to struggle for freedom than in the grossmodality of being a member of a corporate super-state. Unfortunatelythe lessons being learned is the turning of the screw, freedom beingseen by others as a totally outmoded word, as to the life of anartist, seeking some kind of contempt for the 'normal', or freedombeing sought as a writer for outmoded forms of script that could beinterpreted, needing intelligence to decipher, or feeling out of stepin the construct of things that are making our world seemingly amilitary work organization where only the special guard can beinclined to live beautiful lives. The call then the 99%, those whichmust by reason d'erte fall into line of responsibility to work, makemoney, live in some fashion and lead lives to procure and buy, feedthe system and be proper in their acceptance of booty as beingsomething to be gained, forgetting the art, or spiritual existence asever being the part of normal existence, but rather freed to a workerof the State Corporation (twist of words in the concept of spiritualexistence vs a purely material based existence)

Surely I have learned this lesson the hard way by nowbeing “not being allowed” to have a decent existence, practice orplay my piano in spite of the living conditions I have found myselfin, rather would not have wanted in my worst expectation, but havefound here, having the silence, the pure loss of words or help,assistance of others around me to crowd me out and ruin theexperience for me, still calling it freedom...replacingresponsibility for this freedom, and wrecking a full 49 years of selfdevelopment in spite of earning a living wage.

There will be people that say this is impossible! Stillall too clear is that they are naïve beyond the limits of a child tosee what is happening...yet still will not raise a finger to listen,understand in a land of 'non-thought' that seems to envelope theindividual, teacher within them that wants to elevate the podium ontheir level and dispose any who might be enlightening to that fauxfacade on critical levels...those who have not seen the face in thepie, and refuse to see.

Naïveity has its blessing here. The child within goesinto his corner and refuses to see the significance of a change intime, an age of what we may want not to have in the future,encroaching upon us now.

Thus is a dream...and can only be a dream, for those whosee 20/20 its a world lost to tomorrow, and eclipse which has a veryfiery ring has not focused to reveal a problem that has to be foundwith contemporary civilization...to see the meaning of ourselves inthe action of others, assistance of others, or the contingency of abrotherhood that needs to be met with acceptance and not overallneglect.

The house where I am staying erupts into a symbol of newage conflict, metaphor of living in the land of the tomb of thered-rocks. This is not peculiar to here but offers a insight intomuch which is going on in the macrocosm, spirituality not beingspirituality, being a profit driver for the requiem of capitalgain...loss is perfectly evident.

I walk out on an important mission, to be alone in myown life, and continue upon my own path...worthy of my freedom,intellectual existence and not allowing the overpass to becomeanything but an obstacle which one must get around at some time.

Just on this day, upon a long walk I settle when I meeta friend with some interesting news. I have met him many times inpassing and in other conversation s about the past.

He had just returned from Hollywood and a studio of thebig directors having many stories to tell of his adventures as wellas gains to make, and mark.

I talked to him about music videos, and new and upcomingartists...all this considered from my own realm to represent theartifice, but beneficial, since our world exists through the media.

After hours talking about the Beetles, Rolling Stones tosomeone who knew them, I knew that this was a breakthrough in someways. Certainly he knew of my plight here, hope for inspiration,resources and want, need and diagram of my experiences which couldassist others as well as myself. (In Sedona one is less likely tomeet encouraging people than in some place in the Gobi) But this onefellow had a enlightenment about him having lived one of those livesthat all wished they could have had and was now in touch with thegroup again. Too much separates one from the group here. After all itis a small desert town.

Another email comes in after a while and another invitefrom “out-there” in other places of this world which may beencouraging, and were encouraging. The thing is not to become inpattern of the locals here but step aside...

So I did, and the day was encouraging altogether withBirthday blessings all around the world except for my station, likelyfeeling like a radar station in Antarctica at times, dwelling here onthe outside...having to breath my own inspiration, and life from theworld outside me.

Conscious I was when the orb of the sun was beingsaturated by the moon into a fiery ring, that this was the truth ofall that was coming...that somehow and in some way this eclipse wasmeant for me...

I fell asleep and grew more sturdy with my thoughtsabout the next year ahead, the project that must go on and not beencroached upon...

Each and every person has to change...

The eclipse is about mankind to the new age! May GodGrant us Safety in the new realm where man may live at peace, and those who have talents may be rewarded by fair lives