Saturday, October 25, 2008

Be near me

While on this journey through life the same question arises. Amongst my other thoughts during reflection on what I have done and what I will do. The riddle pops into my head yearning for me to answer. Each time I respond the answer changes. It changes as my life progresses. "What is life?" or "What is reality?"
In a chaotic world full of confusion I strive for a patent moral compass. One capable of weathering any storm. No matter how lost or bewildered I become it always points me north. So that I may continue on my journey.
To create such a compass I must began with the question "what is reality?"
All of earth and space is matter. The ground, the air, sky and us. We are matter. Matter is energy. Light energy that creates matter by vibrations. Slower vibrations in the light energy are more denser objects such as rocks and the earth. Faster vibrations are liquids, gases, and flesh.
Harnessing the light energy in my brain I am able to form memories and thoughts. These thoughts allow me to create my own reality. A reality of light energy. In my reality my choices affect everything in it. My world changes as I change it.
When I encounter another human being reality becomes a co-creation of separate realities. Therefore my reality is projected onto yours and vice versa. If my world is full of love. Then now part of your world is love. If my world is hate. Then your world has in it hate.
In effect I everything I do is reflected onto the other realities I encounter. Therefore if my mission in life is to create a safe and loving world for myself, my family and my community then my reality must reflect that. So that my reality can project onto others to make that mission achievable.
This requires a man to being open and loving. Not just any form of love but truly unconditional love. Any true man is capable of that love. The love that God intended for us. A man must purge himself and his wounds carried from birth. That baggage, hate and fear must be removed so the space left can be filled with love. Not a cheesy love but one that burns deep inside. Burning love that ignites in others through smoking embers that float from one reality to another. Burning love that will began to catch other realities on fire. Now my reality is as I choose it to be. A flaming ball of love, openess and integrity to others.
So be near me and feel this burning love. Let the embers travel to your reality and ignite your own fire.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008


Service to me means:
    1. Assistance; help: was of great service to him during his illness.
    2. An act of assistance or benefit; a favor: My friend did me a service in fixing the door.
    1. Active devotion to God, as through good works or prayer.
    2. A religious rite.

So I'm a little confused when I hear these terms with reference to the
word 'service'.

Internal Revenue 'Service'

U.S. Postal 'Service'

Telephone 'Service'

Cable 'Service'

State, City & County Public 'Service' Customer 'Service'

This is not what I thought 'service' meant. But when I overheard
two farmers talking, and one of them said he had hired a bull to
'service' a few cows. BAM!!! It all came into focus. Now I
understand what all those 'service' agencies are doing to us.

Now you're are as enlightened as I am.

Saturday, October 11, 2008

Fall Springs

So as you may have noticed I never got around to writing my second Hurricane Ike post. Shame on me. Amazing how after power was regained two weeks later, everything was back in full swing. That's life. Mentally, I had a wonderful hurricane preparation list I wanted to share. It was much more useful, in my opinion, to a normal human. At least compared to the BS list the TV and newspaper use. Too bad I've forgotten to write most of it down. I guess if my blogs ever going to popular I need to carry around a pen and pad.

So Fall is here. The weather has been nice lately. Allowing me to spend nights on the porch reflecting, people watching, catching up with neighbors and friends. When I was a younger tadpole, I remember enjoying the summers more. Probably the lack of school and responsibilities. Now I find the fall to be my favorite time of the year. Which is ironic as a optimist. Fall is used as setting in literature for dying, death, and the beggining of the end. But for me it's a chance to enjoy cool evenings and maybe even wear a few articles of clothing that I hardly get an opportunity to. The seventy five percent of the year when it's hot allows for very little wardrobe variation. Now I can pimp some long sleeve shirts and jackets without looking out of place.

Work has been interesting of late. Somewhere deep inside I've even found a new love for my work. Feelings most of which came from reviving a elderly woman at a nursing home. The call came in as a respiratory problem; the normal routine stuff. We arrived on scene weary eyed and zombie like at 2am. It struck me something was awry when I saw the look on the ambulance crews' faces. There was our patient laying face up on the bathroom floor motionless. With the two of them seeming lost and giving indirect looks that asked for help. It took me longer than I care to admit before I was fully conscious. CPR was initiated, intraosseous needle to the leg for IV access. The cardiac monitor was textbook asystole (flat line). Not ten minutes later we had pulses back.
A few days later it felt like a full moon. By lunch time we had already made a call where a guy jumped out of a car going sixty plus down the freeway. Apparently he had given up on life. His girlfriend was driving and in the middle of traffic he invited death to take him. The lucky SOB managed to not get hit by surrounding traffic. He was briefly unconscious when we arrived. To my disbelieve I could only find a large hematoma on the right side of his head where he made love to the concrete. Of course he had large sections of fleshless abrasions on his elbows and knees. En route to the hospital he looked at me and asked if he was going to make it. Despite most peoples understanding that we are inclined to give reassuring comments, its actually the contrary. Giving false hope is a terrible seed to plant that can blossom and blow up in your face. It's not we don't desire to give hope. Just not in false assurances. We do it through actions. Nothing worse that looking into the face of someone breathing their last few breaths and their last facial expression is a sorrowful "why did you lie to me" look.
However, in this case the guy was actually going to make it. So I told him "yeah man, you're going to be alright." To which he quickly replied as if in pain "ahh no, damn it." I said some things to him. Most of which I can't seem to recall. It was a transfer of invisible energy from the heart of someone who thrives on the beauty of life to one who finds it undesirable to the point of anguish. The words were not thought through. Then he cried, making sounds I haven't heard a man make. He wanted me to hold his hand and I obliged. All the reasons inside of me that make me do this type of work wanted this story to have a happy ending.
One of the less talked about type of problems with this job is not always seeing the happy ending. Sometimes it reminds me of lighting a firework but turning away. You never know if it's a beautiful display or a dud. Take my suicidial friend for instance. We delivered our boy safely to the hospital were he'll be receiving treatment for his traumatic wounds. Then they'll transfer him to psych. From there they'll examine his head in a total different method from the ER. Part of me wants to beleive he'll be a new man. But it's the part that likes to give false assurances as well. The romantic, dreamer part of me that often fails to see reality. That's where my realist side steps in a sort of couple like compromise. So I fear I'll never know the outcome and what the future holds.
The rest of the day was full of insanity. Lot's of overdoses on every type of meds, drug, alochol cocktail you can imagine. It makes me wonder if our instant gratification society now turns to an easy alternative for confronting internal strife. What's in our programming to make us behave in such a way?
Later that night we had a stab wound call. Well actually we heard it on the radio and told dispatch to add us on the record. Upon arrival we found a lady, half covered in blood and still partly in shock, walking towards us. Apparently there was a small get together. Everything was going well. Everyone was enjoying themselves. Until one of the peeps went beserk breaking glass, mirrors and grabbing a knife in the process. We found the sheath to the dagger. It had a dragon painted on the leather. Similar to the ones bought at the renaissance festival. The interesting part of the story is after the guy went beserk and stabbed a few people. Someone called 911 and by the time we got there all the party goers had fled. Which to me screams drugs. Let the imagine wonder... The woman was fine. So we had no patient. I did make sure to watch my back walking around the darkness of the house while there's some guy loose with a medeival dagger.
En garde!

Well that's my spill for now. I did want to share that I have been doing some work on myself. Actually going to a retreat in a few weeks. Nervous and excited about it at the same time. Some skeletons in the closet I'm not looking forward to seeing.

I'd like to close with a challenge for my readers. Go out and do something extraordinary today. Stop for a few minutes in silence and listen to your heart, conscience, internal monologue. You might have to really listen, something most of us are not accustomed to. Hear what it's telling you and take action. If you desire shoot me an email or comment on the outcome.

In harsh and brutal unifying love,