Those Gay things

A Storm of Crows

2011-06-28T00:28:00.000-04:00

I had come to this place to remember, nothing more. As I was sitting there on the sandy bank of the river where I had spent the happiest moments of my youth I began to hear again the voices of playful laughter rising above the constant roar of the passing water. It was in those first days when I had escaped the home I came from that I knew a kind of peace, and here in this place those first peaceful memories were made.

I remembered the stories told of those who had jumped from the bridge which stood to my left over the deepest part of the river before me. It wasn’t a very large deep spot, and it was this that had paralyzed at least three young men that I knew of. I had met two of them, and heard about a third during my time in the rural hell I had come from.

It was here that I had found enough time, and peace to talk to people for the first time free of the ever watchful eye of the monster I had been raised by. It was here I had spent all the hours of the sunlit day alternating between soaking in the river, drying in the sun, or sitting peacefully beneath the shadow of the bridge. Here on the bank of this river I had spent countless hours drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and getting high on pot whenever there was one or more of these three things to be had.

Now years later all I had left were the memories of those times made stronger by the smell of water and sand, and the noise of the muted roar of the water flowing over the rocks just upstream of where I was. There was a cooler with a few beers under the bridge, and now in the complete shade of the evening sun as it spent its last couple of hours falling toward the horizon. I had just finished a beer, and lit a cigarette while lost in my own mind I spent what seemed like and eternity shuffling through my memories of those days long gone by. The glistening of the water on golden skin, the screams and yells of splashing fun were just a few of the things that flowed through my mind.

“Hey there.” Said someone behind me and a little to my right.

Jumping I rose to my feet and turned in one motion dropping my cigarette on the sand, and bending my knees and bringing my arms up into a defensive posture.

“whoa, hey didn’t mean to scare you man.” Said my unexpected company.

He was taller than my nearly six foot by a couple of inches. As I looked at him I noticed his dark eyes and his deep brown skin. My heart began to dance in my chest and I wasn’t sure that it was entirely from the scare I had just received.

“Hey, sorry.” I said, making a conscious effort to slow my breathing and unclench my fists and lower my arms. “I was.......remembering.” I said.

“Yeah man, you sure weren’t here.” Said the stranger as he bent over to pick up the cigarette I had dropped never taking his eyes off of mine. Rising with a slow grace, he said. “You know this shit will kill you.” He said as he took a long draw from my Marlboro. Inhaling slowly he let some of the smoke rise up slowly caressing his upper lip and tanned cheek before inhaling what was left all in a rush only to exhale it all back toward my face. I couldn’t help but notice his wide shoulders and lean hips as he stood there in a tight black T-shirt and blue jeans. He was in his early thirties, or some age close to my own, and was still in good shape.

I smelled the exhaled tobacco wafting toward my face and I began to relax. I simply stood there looking at him while he took another long drag off of my cigarette. “So, what is your name?” I asked.

“What do you want it to be?” He asked smiling as he reached out his long brown arm to give me back my cigarette.

“Doesn’t matter to me.” I said as I took the cigarette back. “You’re the one who has to be called by your name all the time. I’d hate to give you a name you didn’t like.” I smiled and took a drag of the cigarette.

“What would you like to call me?” He asked as I looked at the cigarette frowning.

“It’s wet.” I said.

“You want to call me It’s Wet? That could be interesting, if a little awkward in public.” He said.

“No, the cigarette is wet.” I said rolling my eyes. “You gave it too much lip.” I said.

“What if I told you that I gave it a little tongue too?” He asked.

I burst out laughing at the absurdity of the conversation.

“I’d say you were a little gross.” I said as I took another drag.

“And yet you don’t seem to be bothered by it, because you just keep sucking....or should I say puffing.” He said with a lopsided grin revealing perfect white teeth all but glowing against his dark bronze skin. I suddenly felt my face get hot as I stood there speechless for a couple of seconds.

“Yeah, so my name is John.” I said trying to cover my discomfort.

“Nice name John, but that name doesn’t suit you very well.” He said with the corners of his mouth turning up in a cocky half smile.

“No? What name does suit me then?” I asked.

“I’m not sure yet, but I’m thinking something with pale in it.” He said.

“Ha ha, I see, so I’ll be the white destroyer like my ancestors. The pale demon” I said.

“You admit so readily that your ancestors destroyed the native peoples here?” He asked.

“Yes, I do, it is the truth isn’t it? I mean that is what we did. We came, we killed, and we took what wasn’t ours by cheating, stealing, and sadly, killing as many natives as we had bullets to fire and Small Pox blankets to give away..” I said.

“Aren't you just full of surprises? I expected arrogance, denial, hell, anything but an admission. Do you know how rare it is for one of your people to know the truth and speak it out loud like you just did?” He asked.

“I don’t have a people.” I said growing suddenly serious. “My people no longer exist as far as I am concerned. The ones who are still alive hold no more interest for me than the sand beneath my feet. They are memories that cast shadows upon my life and nothing more.” I said thinking again of the past.

“Well, you’re even a little poetic huh?” He said.

Thinking of my family that I had turned my back on because I’d finally figured out that I would never be good enough for them I got lost in thought again until my new friend moved slightly and brought my attention back to the present. “Eh. Would you like a beer?” I asked as I stepped back toward my cooler to grab a couple out. For some reason I couldn’t turn my back on my this handsome stranger so I simply knelt down on one leg to get the beer without taking my eyes off of him. As I rose I gently tossed him a beer which he caught just as easily so that it wouldn’t be shaken too much.

I stood and opened my beer and took a long pull and still I couldn't take my eyes off of this strange man. “So, were you going to give me your name, or should I just refer to you as The Tall Brown Man?” I asked.

“I will give you one of my names. Osh-Tisch is how I was once known.” He said as he came closer and sat down in one fluid motion.

“I’m not sure I could pronounce that correctly. Can I just call you Osh?” I asked as I sat down beside the cooler still wary of the stranger named Osh.

He threw his head back and laughed. “You would call me by only half of my name? Am I only half of a man?” He asked.

“I don’t know, how does one tell if you are only half a man?” I asked smiling and thinking mischievous thoughts.

Smiling he said. “Maybe you’ll get to find out one day.”

Suddenly feeling my face go hot again I asked. “What does your name mean?”

Suddenly very serious, and seemingly regretful he replied. “If I tell you now, you will leave, and I’d rather you stayed a little while. It has been a long time since I just sat around and talked to someone.”

“Okay then Osh. I think I need company oddly enough. I think it was a mistake to come here alone with all of my memories anyway.” I said.

“Are your memories so bad?” He asked.

“Some of them yes, others no, and others still were very happy memories.” I said. “Do you have any memories tied to this place?” I asked.

“More than I care to admit.” He said. “Like you, some of them were happy, others not so much. Here is where I realized I was Badé a very long time ago when I was a young man of twelve summers.”

“What is.......Badé?” I asked struggling with the pronunciation.

“Translated it means Two-Spirit, and it was a title given to my kind by my people and their traditions, both long dead now.” He said. “No one remembers how the Badé were revered, and now those who are of Two-Spirits are ostracized and treated worse than sick dogs.”

“I’m sorry.” I said, not understanding but feeling compassion for the loss of what must have been a beautiful people, and a beautiful culture.

“You would have loved it.” He said.

“Oh? How so?” I asked.

“You would have been accepted for who you are from the time you were a child, long before you yourself would have known the difference between you and other men.” He said seriously while making eye contact that I couldn’t return for more than an instant before I averted my gaze and got out another beer.

“You want another one?” I asked still not meeting his gaze.

“Sure.” He said.

Handing him a beer and watching him without looking at his face I asked, “So, what do you mean the difference between me and other men?”

“The way that other men like women, and you like other men.” He said.

Suddenly very tense and a little afraid I half rose into a crouch with all of my attention focused on Osh while he remained calm and didn’t move except to pop open his can of beer.

“Be still little brother, I mean you no harm.” He said.

“Sorry, but I’ve heard that one before.” I said.

“Yes, but I am telling the truth, I know you can hear it in my voice. I know that have an ear for truth.” He said as he raised his can of beer to drink every motion slow and careful. “What kind of life have you led to leave you so distrustful and ready to fight at such simple words?” He asked.

“The kind where I’ve been tricked and hurt, and humiliated, and beaten.” I said with sudden fury that had left me standing before I had realized it with a can of beer held tightly in my hand and raised to be used as a weapon.

“Sorry.” I said. “Sometimes I forget that the past is just..........the past.”

“Peace little brother.” He said. “My name does not mean trickster.”

I had to take a moment to remember how to breathe normally in order to think through the words of this stranger and wonder why they had so provoked me.

“Sorry.” I repeated as I sat back down, as always on my knees in a position to rise quickly. “Maybe I’m too paranoid.”

“No need to apologize. I have something that might help you relax if you will trust me.” Said Osh.

“How do I know I can trust you?” I asked.

“That is a very good question. The answer is that you don’t, at least not until you try.” He said again smiling and seeming at ease. “You brought the beer, let me supply the one thing you don’t have.” He said as he pulled out what looked like a perfectly hand rolled cigarette.

“Is that weed?” I asked.

“Yes.” He said. “And just to show you that you can trust me I’ll smoke it by myself, and you can have some if you want.”

“Okay.” I said.

“You have some trust issues little brother.” He said as he lit his joint and inhaled after he got it burning good.

“Sorry, and stop calling me little brother.” I said as the pungent scent of marijuana came wafting across the short distance between us.

I watched him take a couple of more good hits then I leaned over to reach for the joint saying. “Hell, give me some I guess.”

“I knew you would help me smoke this.” He said as he raised up to hand me the joint. “It would be easier if you sat closer though.”

“I am sitting beside the cooler, you come sit closer to me.” I said as I hit the joint and felt the old familiar burn in my throat that once meant sweet escape from a life I hated, even if only temporarily.

Standing Osh walked a couple of short steps and sat quickly down in front of me, and before I realized it I was half-way to standing once again. Forcing myself to breathe and sit back down I handed the joint back to Osh.

“It’s strong.” I said.

“I know.” He said.

“It has been a long time since I smoked weed.” I said.

“Then you probably shouldn’t have any more, we’ll put this out and save the rest for later.” Said Osh as he stuck the lit end of the joint into the loose sand leaving it sticking up.

“Yes, good idea, I don’t like to get too high, especially when I’m not somewhere safe.” I said.

“You are safe here with me.” He said.

“Really? Maybe it is because I am here with you that I am not safe.” I said.

“So paranoid. How do you have any friends?” He asked.

“I get to know them before I do anything with them. It often takes time, and since so few people are patient, then I have only a few friends.” I said.

“So, you never just jump up and go with someone to do something fun?” He asked.

“Nope, not really.” I said.

“I see.” He said.

“You wont see for long.” I said with a straight face.

“Why is that?” He asked with a grin.

“Because the sun is setting and soon it will be dark.” I said. “We wont see much of anything then.

“Oh, I’ll still see you.” He said in a low and deep voice with a tone that made me shiver and scared me a little all at once. “That pale skin will shine like a beacon in the moonlight. Do you never walk under the sun?” He asked.

“Not often.” I said laughing a little nervously.

“Besides, I am ‘one of the natives’ as you called my people, I will build us a fire from sticks and flint.” He said.

“Why not just use the lighter that you lit the joint with?” I said with a straight face.

Osh burst out laughing in a deep loud voice as the last rays of the sun struck his dark golden brown face making his brown eyes glitter in the yellow light. “Or, I could use my lighter.” He said as he rose. “I’m going to find some wood. I’ll be right back.”

I watched him walk toward the trees that had grown up around and behind the old dilapidated mill that was even now falling in upon itself with age and disrepair. I stood and walked to the bushes on the far edge of the clean sand under bridge being careful not to bang my head on the beams there where the sand rose forcing me to bend down until I was out from under the bridge. As stood there facing the setting sun and the light it shed through the dancing leaves I began to relieve myself there onto the grassy drop off where a small trickle of water joined the river in the cooling evening air. I once again got lost in the memories of my past and this place so inextricably intertwined.

I remembered how my teenage crush looked standing there waist deep in the water with the sun glistening on his sun darkened skin. Neil always looked so good no matter what he was doing. He had that perfect balance of tone and meaty flesh that I had liked so well.

“Hey, come on in the water is great.” Said Neil.

“Hey, come on up here under the bridge out of sight of the road.” I said, and a lazy smile crossed Neil’s features as he splashed up out of the water to come running at me under the bridge. I was still amazed at how quickly clothing could come off in those days.

Unbidden my memories shifted to another time so soon after that sunny day where I had taken pleasure and solace in Niel’s tan muscled body. A time where I saw him pale with bloody bandages around his head. Later in another time still when his parents stood there months afterward making the decision to pull the plug on Neil’s life support machines. The pain still cut deep at the memory of his funeral, when I had no choice but to remain in the back ground as just another friend while I fought with everything I had not to weep screaming out my grief at the loss of my lover.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Said Osh as I jumped and turned to face him, except this time he was ready for me and simply stepped up into my personal space before I had time to get my feet under me purposefully keeping me off balance, and the drop off behind me keeping me from backing up. I had to grab his arms in order to keep my balance while he simply stood there smiling his smug smile.

“If you wanted to feel my biceps all you had to do was ask.” He said.

“Why do you sneak up on....?” I began to ask in a voice that was still choked with grief as I saw the first flames beginning to rise from the circle of sticks and branches that he had set in a shallow pit in the sand.

Turning my head back I looked to see that the sun had set and full darkness had come while I was lost in those bright sunlit moments of long ago. When I looked back at Osh he was simply smiling a smile that reached his eyes and seemed to make them sparkle in the darkness. When I looked down I saw that he had a hold on my arms with large brown hands that looked calloused and worn.

“Let me go.” I said.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “You nearly fell before I grabbed you, and I’m wondering if maybe the pot wasn’t too strong, or maybe you are more delicate than you appear.” He said apparently choosing not to notice the crocodile tears standing in my eyes making my vision slightly blurry..

My anger flared and I shifted my weight to the right and putting my right leg behind his left I moved with practiced ease to push him back to trip over my right leg, but instead of being unprepared he simply lifted his left leg and stepped back shifting his weight and suddenly I was off balance and headed to the ground. It came as a surprise when I didn’t hit hard as Osh was still holding my arms and slowing my fall only to lose his own balance and land on top of me with his arms out to each side to catch himself and keep his full weight off of me.

“Good thing I’m fast.” He said.

“Why is that? So that I couldn't throw you?” I asked.

“No, so I could keep you from hitting the ground.” He said laughing again as his long hair fell down in a curtain to bridge the space between our faces. Suddenly the whole world consisted of his face just a couple of inches from mine, and the shifting light of the fire lighting his face through his hair in a mixture of shadow and light that was mesmerizing.

“Please let me up.” I said which only came out as a quiet whisper due to the sudden choking nervous dryness in my throat.

“Very well.” Osh said as he lifted himself up, and to the side rising with that strange fluid grace he had exhibited before. As soon as he was standing he held out his hand to help me up. Taking it I rose from the sandy earth to follow him back to the camp fire, walking hunched over so as not to strike the steel beams of the bridge with my head.

When we sat down by the fire Osh reached into the cooler and got out two beers cracking one open and handing it to me, then opening his own.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Here.” He replied.

“Okay, which part of here?” I asked.

“Every part really. I’ve always just traveled around in this area.” He said.

“So you don’t have a home?” I asked.

“Yes, I do, my home is everywhere I go, this land is my home.” He said with a smirk.

“I see.” I said, smiling and giving up on that conversation as I drank deeply from my beer.

For a time there was silence as we sat and drank listening to the crackle of the fire. The creatures of the night had awoken fully now and the sounds of tree frogs, and insects blanketed the night with a living symphony of harmony and nature in balance.

“So do you like beer?” He asked.

“No, I hate beer honestly.” I replied

“Then why do you drink it?” He asked.

“Because it doesn’t hurt my stomach like liquor, and it has alcohol.” I said as I quickly drank the last quarter of the can to be done with it.

“Do you ever regret drinking.” He asked.

“Only when I wake up with a hangover the next day.” I said snickering a little at the irony of the question.

“Do you ever get too drunk to remember what happened the night before?” He asked.

“No, I don’t think so, but then if I did would I remember not remembering?” I asked.

“Haha, very nice my pale faced friend.” He said smiling once again with his white teeth shining in the firelight in contrast to his ruddy brown skin. For a time we simply sat staring at the fire as the smoke and sparks rose into the blackness above to disappear as the tiny embers lost their inner fire.

Suddenly I was aware that something had changed. The light from the fire had grown dimmer, and it was difficult to focus on any one thing. “Something is wrong.” I said and I realized my words had come out slightly slurred and my speech was sluggish.

“It is the beer, you drank it too fast.” Said Osh.

“No, thish is different.” I slurred a little worse than before.

“You put something in that lasht beer!” I said suddenly scared but unable to move quickly enough to keep my balance as I tried to stand.

Catching me before I fell into the fire Osh said. “Not so fast my pale friend, you are in no shape to be trying to walk.”

The fear I felt had given me a little clarity as the adrenaline in my blood fought the drug for just a moment. “Why have you done this?” I asked.

“I think now I should tell you my full name, and what it means.” He said.

“What? Now? Why have you drugged me?” I asked as he pulled me back away from the fire and pushed me down on my back which cause my head to suddenly start spinning.

“My full name is Osh-Tisch.” He said. “It means Finds Them and Kills Them.” Then he lowered his head and kissed me on the lips as once again his hair formed a curtain of darkness around me like being sheltered in the wings of a great black bird.

“No.” I tried to say as I felt a trill of fear at his words but I could only moan out in fear as my body betrayed me into oblivion.

I was standing on a plain of grass surrounded by trees in a perfect circle. There were animals close by, and they were all looking at me. There was a cougar, several deer, a flock of geese, thousands of smaller birds and rodents, and the only thing in the sky was a vast amount of crows. Looking up I saw the sky covered in wing beating pieces of flying darkness.

The shadows they cast as they circled overhead made it seem like the sun was flashing in time to some unknown beat. Turning I saw a pack of wolves with one great golden wolf standing at the head of the pack, his fur the golden color of the sun at its most beautiful, and his mate standing at his side with her coat the color of the silver moon on a clear night.

Beyond the wolves I saw a couple of beavers, a bear, and a badger standing all alone up on his hind legs. There were snakes, and rats walking among squirrels and birds. All of the smaller animals just visible in the tall yellow grass of the field, with the larger animals looking at me expectantly, as if judging how I might taste.

Suddenly I felt the earth move beneath my feet, and when I looked down I saw the ground itself become the semblance of a face. Startled I stepped back only to feel a lump beneath my bare foot. Turning I saw that I was standing on yet another face, and this one I recognized, and with recognition came the pain of memory. Turning back to the first face I realized that I remembered it was well.

Feeling lost, and hurt as I looked at the multitude of faces that rose from the earth around me each one associated with a painful memory my heart began to ache with the pain those memories brought. Some of those faces reminded me of a pale young man wasting away in a hospital bed because of the violence they had perpetrated. I felt heavy, as if I could barely stand, tired as if I had been in the river all day, with that special weakness that pulls on us after we leave the water. Looking down I saw my feet had sank into the earth about an inch and I knew then that these memories were here to devour me whole.

Suddenly the crows above me erupted into a cacophony of noise. All of them cawing all at once was at first deafening and then a single word emerged from the din. It was a word in an ancient and all but forgotten tongue, but I somehow knew the meaning. It meant, ‘move your feet’ which for some reason made me think of dancing.

Lifting my head with great effort I looked up at the sky full of crows as the sun flashed over head between their wings as they circled around me and the center of the field like the arms of a hurricane I saw them in all their blue black beauty as the sun sparkled off of the blue hazy sheen on the black of their feathers, and the impression of near perfect darkness where their bodies cast a shadow beneath them.

Looking down I saw that the earth now nearly covered the tops of my feet as if attempting to pull me down before I could move enough to escape. I lifted my right foot and found that I couldn't pull it free. Shifting my weight I tried lifting my left foot which I also could not pull free. Looking back to my right I noticed that the earth had receded ever so slightly.

Shifting my weight back and forth I worked myself free of the earth and as soon as my feet came free I began to dance, stomping my feet down upon the earth and those hateful faces to the beat of the chant of the crows in their foreign tongue.

After a few steps I realized that my feet were no longer touching the ground, but they were hitting something solid a couple of inches above the earthen countenances. Seeing this I felt a thrill of excitement and I began to move in earnest. I spun in place stomping my feet beneath me and I rose a foot from the earth.

The animals in the field below watched mesmerized, all except for the gold and silver wolf, they sat their with their mouths hanging open and their tongues lolling out in what struck me as a sly wolfish grin. Spin step, step, jump, step, step, spin, and I was suddenly ten feet off the ground as the wolves followed me with their eyes and their wolfish laughter.

I felt joy, and freedom the likes of which I had never felt before, and somewhere in the distance I thought I heard drums beating out a beat which seemed to match the pace I was keeping with my own dance steps.

Step, step, spin, step, step, leap, and I was twenty feet in the air. Turning again and again I was now sweating with effort but I couldn’t stop, and I couldn’t slow down, the only thing I could do was move faster. Step, step, spin, step step. I noticed that it wasn’t drums that I was hearing but soft concussion sounds as I stomped my feet onto the empty air beneath me.

Now just above me were the circling maelstrom of light absorbing graceful crows. Step, step, spin, step, step, leap. Faster and faster and with each increase in the strength of my steps so to did the sound of the concussions my feet made in the air increase.

Suddenly I was moving faster, and faster until it seemed like there was muted thunder beneath my feet, a dull rolling boom with each step in the dance. Looking down again at the earth where I had stood now there was an empty circle surrounded by my animal witnesses and that circle was full of the writhing faces of memory.

Filled with sudden energy and rage I stomped down upon the air above the faces in the earth and thunder, true loud crashing thunder rolled out across the meadow moving the hair of the wolves, and bears and those with fur and ruffling the feathers of the birds on the ground. Step, step, spin, step, step, leap, stomp, Boom! another powerful peal of thunder rolled out beneath me in deafening waves, and as I watched the faces that were memories from a painful past began to crumble, and weather away before my eyes.

Step, step, spin, step, step, leap, stomp Boom!! Suddenly I was eye level with the cyclone of crows and their mass opened a space for me in their midst. Faster and faster I moved, my fury and rage fueling my movements ever faster, and filling my feet with power as they came down upon the seemingly solidified air. Step, step, spin, step, step, leap, stomp, and a deafening explosion of thunder rocked the world around me as I rose above the crows and the faces in the earth crumbled to nothing but grassy earth once more.

There above the circling sea of black that was now beneath me I danced for a while, shaking with exultation, and euphoria feeling free for the first time in my life. An eternity passed while I danced there in the sky my feet now only making crashes of thunder that seemed far away and harmless now. More the beating of a great drum than the terrible thunder I had unleashed before in my rage at the memories that wanted to destroy me.

My steps slowed as exhaustion claimed my body, and I began to sink back to the waiting earth. On my way the crows in the sky surrounded me, and followed my spinning dance back to the earth. The world was a storm of crows surrounding me with only the earth beneath me visible while everything else was just flashes of background leaking through the curtain of dancing night colored crows.

When my feet touched the earth I once again felt heavy, but this time it was the heavy of feeling tired. The heaviness of a day well spent and productive. I stopped my spinning dance and lay down on the seemingly soft earth now flat and untainted by memory evoking faces out of my own personal nightmares. Down into darkness I fell, and unmarred oblivion embraced me with the arms of a lover.

Be well Pale Thunder Dances in the Sky “Huh?!” With a start I woke and sat up to the morning sun to my right in the east, and the river before me with its quiet roar of water over stones. I stood looking around suddenly wary, and a little worried that I wasn’t alone. Shaking my head and trying to clear the grogginess I walked once again to my left and under the bridge to relieve myself off of the bank of the small stream that joined the river. When I was finished I turned and there standing on the other side of the now cooling ashes of last night’s fire was an old woman, small and brown and shrunken, dressed in leather adorned with beads and feathers.

Her hair was silver, and worn in two braids down the front of each shoulder with black feathers woven in her braids in such a way that they seemed like they simply should be there, as an extension of her own hair.

“Tell me pale demon, how is it that you yet live?” She asked.

“Excuse me?” I said still not feeling well and like I was having to do everything through a haze.

“I came here this morning to push your body into the river and here you are alive and walking and talking instead of dead, and quiet and unmoving. I saw you come here last night with your cooler and your arrogance thinking that you could simply walk where you pleased.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was trespassing. What do you mean push my body into the river?” I asked only then understanding the meaning of her words.

I looked around and saw only foot prints, cigarette butts, and the joint that Osh had brought laying on the ground with no sign of Osh anywhere.

“You should be dead.” Said the old woman suddenly making me feel like I was wrong for being alive.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand..........well, much of anything right now. Have you seen Osh?” I asked.

“WHAT?!” The woman yelled in a voice that seemed to drive a stake through my head, and through the pain I managed to think “How did that little old lady make her voice so loud?” As I opened my eyes I saw that she was now a little pale under her leathery brown skin.

“Osh, you know, tall, brown skin, long hair, perfect teeth, handsome, good weed. I think he said his name was Osh-Tisch, or maybe I’m pronouncing it wrong.” I said trying to sort out everything being said in this strange conversation with my memories of the night before being thrown in the mix like a bad carnival ride that just wouldn’t stop long enough for me to catch my breath.

“He told you his name, and yet you still live. Did he tell you what it means?” She asked.

“Uhm, Finds, or Kills, no no........Finds Them and Kills Them, I think.” I said.

She sank to her knees there in the sand, and she suddenly looked like an old lady instead of the intimidating and powerful presence she had been a moment before.

“Hey, are you okay?” I asked. When she didn’t answer I picked up the joint Osh had brought and knelt down in front of her. “Can I help you?” I asked looking at her and waiting for her to give some sign that she was still there with me.

“You can light that and share it with me.” She said.

I lit the joint and took a couple of hits to get it going good and handed it to the ancient lady. She took it from me, took one hit, frowned at it, and threw it into the river.

“No one has spent the night here and survived since they killed my grandson.” She said.

“Who killed your grandson?” I asked.

“You, your people killed him here and his blood flowed into the sand, and into the river. Everything that he was murdered in that one act of hatred and arrogance that your kind are so good at.” She said once again seemingly powerful and full of a terrifying strength.

“I’m sorry.” I said.

“Sorry doesn’t bring my grandson back!” She spat out with renewed fury.

I sat there unsure of what to say, finally I said. “Should I apologize for not dying, or for coming here? I’m confused.”

“What did Osh-Tisch say to you?” She asked.

“Not a lot really, mostly he just scared the hell out of me, and I think he drugged me.” I said, and then the whole world seemed to go quiet as I began to remember the dream I’d had and how it had started. “He kissed me.” I said.

I sat there lost in the memories of the dream staring at the old woman as a gentle breeze seemed to come from the river and somewhere I thought I heard an echo of that loud deep laughter I had heard from Osh the night before.

“Did you like it when he kissed you?” She asked suddenly watching me like a mountain lion watches its prey before it pounces.

Blushing I looked away from her intense gaze and said. “Mostly I was just scared because I didn’t know what he was going to do to me. I got caught unaware once before and was nearly killed by........well, as you call them my kind. Just a gang of rednecks out looking for some violent fun.”

“You are Badé then. That is why you still live.” She said.

“Osh said he was Badé, or Two-Spirit.” I said. “It means gay right?”

“It does not mean gay, as your people say. It means Two-Spirit, the spirit of a man, and of a woman, in one body. Once my people revered the Badé because of their wisdom, and knowledge of the world, because they could see with the eyes of a woman, and the eyes of a man.” She said looking at me with her ancient brown eyes.

“Osh-Tisch spared your life because you are a Two-Spirit, like he was in life. He spared you, but surely not only because of that. You had a dream didn’t you?” She asked.

“Yes, a really strange one, I...there was.....it was very strange. What do you mean in life?” I said thinking once again back on the dream that seemed to be still just as fresh in my mind as everything else that had happened the night before.

“Indeed, I can see some of the dream as you think upon it, and it was no ordinary dream” She said apparently ignoring my question.

“No, well it certainly wasn’t ordinary.” I said. “You can see parts of it?” I asked confused.

“It was a gift to you, and possibly to me.” She said ignoring my question again and frowning thoughtfully.

“A gift? How so?” I asked.

“Are you still afraid?” She asked.

I opened my mouth to tell her that I wasn’t afraid, but then I stopped, because I realized that I was only a little afraid now, and looking back it seemed like I had been terrified for a very, very long time. Finally I said simply. “Not so much now.”

“A wise answer.” She said.

“Where did Osh go?” I asked.

“He was never here, so he could not have went anywhere.” She said.

“But he was here, and we drank beer, and he........well, he was here.” I said.

Smiling a knowing and wolfish smile the old woman said. “I imagine he was, you did, and he did, but Osh-Tisch is a spirit who is everywhere and nowhere, so he couldn’t have been here.” She said.

“But.” I said with my expertise of the English language while the old woman simply arched an eyebrow and waited.

Finally I had nothing to say because I couldn't get what had happened last night out of my head. I knew he must have been there, and I had felt him hadn’t I? Didn’t he throw me to the ground? Hadn’t he been right there above me twice with his curtain of hair falling around my face.

Gasping I suddenly realized, he had not had a smell. The whole time he was there all I could smell was the fire, the water, the sand, the pot, and the fresh air coming in when the wind blew in from the trees. Twice he had been all but laying on top of me and he hadn’t had a scent at all.

“Now you understand.” Said the old woman. “Now you know that he was here, and yet he was not.” She said.

I looked out across the river to the other side and saw a single wolf watching me with its golden eyes as it drank from the river. It raised its head and looked at me with that same open mouthed wolfish laugh that I had seen in my dream, and I was suddenly reminded of Osh’s deep throaty laugh as he had all but howled in delight the night before as we had joked back and forth.

I looked back at the old woman who had also been watching the wolf and asked. “That’s him isn’t it?”

“Possibly child, possibly.” She said as she began to rise.

I rose quickly and offered her my hand, and for a moment there was again that flash of fury in her eyes when she looked at my pale white hand, but it passed when her eyes met mine, and she took my offered hand.

I didn’t pull her up, I simply held my arm strong so that she could pull herself up, and then I said. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“I don’t think you can cook without building another fire, and I am too old to wait that long.” She said.

“I was thinking more along the lines of the local cafe just down Old Mill Rd.” I said as I let go of her hand and began to head toward the cooler full of empty cans and I hoped a couple of still cold beers.

“As long as you are buying.” She said.

“I can. I don’t mind.” I said.

“Would you like a beer?” I asked. “I have two left.”

“Sure.” She said. “Shall we drink to Pale Thunder?”

Stopping in the middle of reaching into the cooler to fish out the last two beers I looked at her suddenly wary again.

“Don’t fret child, I heard Osh-Tisch’s voice on the wind when I was walking down this way.” She said with a mischievous grin.

“That’s creepy old woman, very creepy.” I said as I finished digging out the two beers and handing her one.

“What should I call you?” I asked.

“Well, I was thinking grandmother.” She said with a quiet voice.

Smiling I looked at her and remembered what she had said about her grandson, then I said. “Grandmother it is then.”

We both drank from our beers and started walking up the hill to the road where my car was still parked. When I stopped to look back I thought I heard once again that deep velvet laughter on the wind and it brought a sad smile to my face along with a new memory of someone beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

States Immigration Laws by yours truly

2010-06-17T12:40:00.002-04:00

I don't think most people don't realize the importance of what these state based immigration laws really is. In effect the state is giving itself the ability to legally discriminate based on skin color, race, national origin, spoken language, and physical characteristics. Unfortunately there are people who apparently think it is a good idea to single people out by how they look. I mean really, does anyone really believe that they wont be "racial profiling" (Translation: Checking papers based on what race an individual appears to be).

The governments of these states considering these laws must believe that their populations are complete idiots. This paves the way for them to one day be able to say something like, "If you don't have blue eyes then you are not worthy enough to live in our state." Haven't we already been through this with Hitler? Didn't this already happen once? Apparently we need to be reminded. So those of you who support these laws realize one day in the future that you made a mistake because your brown eyed dark haired grandchildren are being accosted on the street, I hope you remember pushing such a racist law.

Fate tends to punish us with what we deserve. Racist people tend to end up with mixed grandchildren, no matter how hard they try to avoid such a thing. While they are busy cutting their children out of their wills for such an obvious indiscretion, Fate, along with Destiny, and Karma are laughing their endless asses off.

If what I have written here gives you pause for thought, imagine this. There are already so many people here who are from south of the Texas, Mexico border, (this includes many other countries for those idiots among you who think they are all "Mexican") that there is no way that the balance of power will not be shifted in a generation or so anyway.

This is the point, the power(Translation: White and Rich) that is fighting for it's dying breath knows it has come to its end. These laws are a last desperate grasp at keeping power where these people think it belongs(White, Rich politicians). The children of these people who were born here are by themselves enough to shift the balance of power in a couple of generations. I sincerely hope that I do not have to wait that long for this idiocy to come to an end, but anyway.

Has anyone considered the "humanistic" consequences of these racist, bigoted laws? Has anyone considered how many children(who were born here, and by birth right are united states citizens with all the basic rights that this involves) will be separated from their parents, and possibly be left without parents? This is the most inhumane result of these ridiculous and hate born laws. Make no mistake, this will happen, imagine the trauma to the child who goes to school one day and has both parents when he gets on the bus. Only to come home to have only one parent, or if the worse case scenario happens, and both parents are taken from their jobs, or on their way to their jobs,(Translation: Legally Abducted).

Imagine a child who gets of the school bus a happy, worry free child that runs strait to his front door to go in and tell his mother about his day in school, only to find the door still locked. Imagine a child a little apprehensive, but not overly worried that his parents have not come home, so he goes to his neighbors house to play with their children. Imagine that same child as the day grows longer, and he doesn't see or hear from his parents. Imagine that child when the call finally comes to his worried neighbors house that both his parents have been taken(Translation: Abducted) off the street, and are already well on their way to being deported by this new and terrible regime that has taken over common sense. Of course this lonely sad child doesn't care about the political implications, all he knows is that he wants his parents back, and he can't think of any reason why someone that loves him so much could be "deported". To a five year old "deported" may as well mean murdered. He will not understand why his parents have been taken, only that "the state" "the police" "ICE" has taken his parents for no good reason, and he has to suffer the consequences of his parents wanting a better life for him than they had for themselves. Hardworking parents who have never been in trouble with the law, parents who tell their child that they love him a dozen times a day. Parents who though may not be well educated, are better parents to their child than half of the parenting population of the entire United States.

These are not nameless people who come here for the sole purpose to take all our low paying jobs, and day labor jobs(Translation: Jobs fat ass white people wont do anyway) from us. Each and every single one has a face, a family, a name, and a history filled with poverty, and hardship. A story that was filled with a constant struggle to feed themselves and their families. All you assholes who have decided that we should send all the "Mexicans" back to where they belong, should have to explain yourselves to that one brown eyed, beautiful, well behaved, well loved, child who in a matter of a few hours lost everything he had in the whole world.

Then their are the racist senators, and political bigots who hide their true motivations behind well built political histories, and reputations. Reputations, and histories that have taken unimaginable self control to never tell anyone how they really feel about anyone who is not white, or rich, or educated. Virginia Foxx here in North Carolina is especially bigoted, and has taken every action she can to continue the aforementioned balance of power(Translation: White and rich) that has undoubtedly lined her old wrinkled pockets. I can only hope that some psycho will take her out one day with a sniper rifle to end her power fueled bigotry, because she has certainly sold her humanity, and compassion to someone(Translation: Sold her soul for love of money and power) for political gain. Almost all current politicians are in office for one reason alone. Money. That is why they strive so very hard to maintain the current status-quo(Translation: White, and Rich in power with no room for anyone else).

I hope common sense and human decency will prevail, but I'm not fool enough to hold my breath where greedy politicians are concerned.

Yours Truly

Jason

Orson Scott Card Death of a Personal Hero

2009-10-25T13:34:00.003-04:00

The Death and Dishonor of a Personal Hero

I recently discovered through browsing news articles that one of my favorite authors is against not just gay marriage, but against gays in general. He has always been one of my favorite authors and it was in one of his books, that I encountered my first gay character in a novel. I have read the majority of his work. He has several series of books, and I have greatly enjoyed many of them. Only now do I find myself ashamed that I came to knowledge of his political views after having spent so much money on reading his work. You see there are very few things that I am ashamed of, I am not ashamed of my past, the hell I lived in as an adolescent, the pills I have to take every day as a result of that adolescence. I am not ashamed of being gay, nor am I ashamed of the fact that I am for the most part solitary and unsocial, except for a small and intimate circle of friends. I don't mind being different, or looked at with expressions of incredulity from time to time. I am unique because I have embraced everything about myself that is considered outside the norm, and I am happier for it. Being gay is just a small part of who I am, and it by no means dictates the decisions that I make in my day to day life, other than of course who I choose to have intimate relationships with.

Having said all that, back to my point. I had long held this particular author in high esteem, and I would say that I would one day have liked to have met him. Now I can no longer say any of those things, because in my typical fashion I have seen the things that, though unpleasant, I cannot unsee. I cannot unknow. I always seem to be able to see the worst sides of people in all the nakedness of hateful truth. I think it's because I lived so long in denial about so many things. It took me years to realize that taking care of a certain family member had never been in my best interest, and that sacrificing that relationship was the healthiest thing I could have ever done for myself. When I google the essays of this writer whose name I will presently give, I saw with a greater depth than I imagine the usual reader would see. I saw that he knows how his writings can influence people and how powerful a voice he actually is. I saw with dawning horror the full breadth of his wordy prowess, and I knew that I simply had to do something in some small way to expose these things as I see them.

Orson Scott Card is one of the premier authors of fiction, science fiction, and fantasy in the united states. His bibliography is large, and well built, his fan base, numerous and fanatical. All in all a very successful writer. I admit that I read his Ender series with a passion that has rarely been surpassed by reading the books of other authors. I have spent the better part of the last ten years reading Mr. Card's books, and now I wish I had kept my money out of his pockets, and out of the pockets of his publishers if for no better reason than to not support him or anyone that supports him. I wish now that I had looked for his ideals a little sooner, because for the last ten years he has been outspoken opposition of gay marriage, and I think had the time frame been right he would have been an outspoken opponent of gay rights in general.

Having read his essays I will address them as I come to them. One of my favorites is one called the The Hypocrites of Homosexuality . (http://www.nauvoo.com/library/card-hypocrites.html) In this essay Mr. Card explores various issues. The first of which is the destruction of the church by homosexuals. This essay alone is ripe with various well worded manipulations and thought provoking lines that would lead to the logical conclusion that gay marriage, as well as being gay is wrong on a moral, societal, and genetic level. In the first few paragraphs Mr, Card explores how homosexuals, in general are a threat to the church.

Mr. Card implies that by showing too much tolerance the church might be brought down and destroyed by allowing gays into their congregation as gays, instead of reformed individuals who do not act on their desires or their homosexuality. He likens us to wolves in sheep's clothing in our desire to be both gay and spiritual. He states that we cannot serve two masters because being gay is one, and following the faith of the church is another. This is ridiculous, because if one truly desires to worship God then one simply has to have faith. Granted those individuals who were raised Mormon will have a difficult time of keeping their religious ties, but I have found that god does not seem to be predisposed to any one faith. It could be said that if one cannot find happiness in existing religions, then one could conceivably make one's own religion, after all the Mormons did it, with divine intervention of course.

Another point that Mr. Card made was that a fifteen year old boy is predisposed to have sex with anything that moves. I also find this rediculous because having been a fifteen year old boy, and having known quite a few of them when I was that age I would say that sure, at that age all boys are after those new o so good sensations, and though bad judgment seems to run hand in hand with being a teenager, I would not go so far as to insult all such youths with the generalization that they will copulate with anything that moves. The implications in such a statement are disturbing to say the least. If you really take this thought and look at it then you might realize that very young men, while flooded with strange feelings, and new chemicals in their blood, are often too afraid, or awkward, or shy to be so promiscuous. I know that I was even given several opportunities in my youth, with both other boys, and girls.

In another part of the essay Mr. Card calls for counseling, and teaching of young gays, to help them overcome their gayness, or homosexuality. And excommunication should only be a last resort for those who continually engage in such behavior. I say this, if you are living in an environment that tells you that your basic nature is against all the rules, and that it is wrong for you to love someone regardless of their sex, then you should leave that place, and find your own personal path to god. I condone all action that seeks to prevent further harm to self and psyche, up too and including taking yourself to someone you trust and asking for help in getting out of a bad situation. Be thoughtful, and concise in your explanation of why you cannot abide living in such a situation any longer. There are laws to protect children of all ages from such experiences.

Mr. Card also states that the laws that make homosexuality a crime should not only remain on the books, but they should also be enforced more, in order to make examples of those of us who do not fit a predefined social norm. This is the first part in which Mr. Cards true colors begin to shine through. Even looking at this statement in it's context one can clearly see that Mr. Card would return us to a time when it was okay to arrest people for being gay, for what they do in their own homes. Or even holding hands on the street should be a crime that could carry some jail time. This is the time in history that Mr. Card would return us to, had he just the power to do so. Arresting people for holding hands or some other small gesture of affection would be the equivalent to returning to a time when it was OK to burn people at the stake, whether it could be proven that they were witches or not. To make an example of us indeed!

And then in the next few lines or so he says that the goal would not be to put people in jail, but to discourage homosexual activity, and to encourage them to be discreet. Let's face it even when heterosexual couples make out in public it is tacky, and sometimes a little embarrassing to those of us who might be spectators, but we tend to look the other way when we see such a thing in most environments because ultimately it is none of our business. What Mr. Card proposes however is that we would be arrested for showing affections in public, and all “for the good” of society.

Mr. Card wrote this essay to try and show the hypocrisy of homosexuals using the term homophobe, and to some extent I agree that some of the less articulate of the gay community seem to use this word as a defense and a slur when their words fail them. I will even admit that there are quite a few hypocrites in the gay community, but it seems to me that there are far, far more in the populace in general, most of which claim Christianity of one denomination or other as not only their faith, but their way of life. Those who amen to love thy neighbor on Sunday mornings, and are practicing stab thy neighbor in the back by Monday afternoon. These are the people who are continually and consistently kind to the face of anyone they see different than themselves, and then speak in hushed tones about how horrible a person those others must be behind closed doors.

The thing that Mr. Card takes advantage of is indeed the most horrible affliction in this country. It is the reason that we still hate, and the reason that so many people become so terribly angry over some of these sensitive issues. Mr. Card isn't the only one because every politician in this nation also uses the affliction that I am speaking of to their advantage. It is the thing that television and sloth have brought us to, along with obesity, and diabetes. Our lack of desire to research and read for our selves is just as deadly and ten times as dangerous as any current social problem that we might face. It is this lack of self-informing that will one day bring use to our knees as a country, a society, and a people.

It is this lack of self-informing will that Mr. Card and those like him would use to manipulate the populace to their own ends so that the world would be remade as they wish it to be, no matter the cost to the personal freedoms of the individual. I have read one of Mr. Cards greatest works, the entire series called by most the Ender series. In the beginning of this series there were two characters who were the brother and sister of the main character. Valentine, and Peter Wiggin, and they used nicknames in order to write a series of essays on the Nets, in order to influence the will of the people of the entire earth. They succeeded, and when I read some of Mr. Card's essays I realized that not only has he took it upon himself to become one of these champions of social manipulation but he presents himself as hero of all that is right and good, while condemning with seemingly perfect logic the vagaries and amoral habits of the “homosexual”. All the while claiming to consider his gay acquaintances dear and true friends while he endlessly speaks of how the “homosexuals” should be handled both in the church and in society as a whole. The sad part is that he may well succeed if the populace of this nation were to become sufficiently complacent to simply believe what they are told, and vote how they are told to vote.

In his essay “Why and How to Defend Marriage” he tells the reader that gay marriage is wrong not only because it is forbidden by god but because it is wrong, and destructive to society, and harmful to his marriage and his way of life. Really? How is gay marriage harmful to Mr. Card's way of life? How can it possibly be harmful to his Marriage? Is his marriage so weak that he fears it being seen for what it is? I doubt it. I imagine more that it is just another tactic at manipulation in general. One more easily accessible, borrowable, jab for the inarticulate. Mr. Card even talks about his friends who are in gay marriages and says that he knows they mean no harm for they are good people, and he also means no harm. But even as he says that he is a friend to these people he writes this essay about how wrong he thinks they are in the choices they have made in their lives, and how those choices will undermine everything he holds dear. I would prefer a well known enemy to a friend like Mr. Card. I expect and receive the love and support of my friends in all things. Granted my circle of true friends is small, but it is intimate, and demanding. I would give the same to them that they give to me in a moment. If I don't agree with who my friends choose to marry then I tell them once, and only once that I think they are making a mistake. After that I support them even if I don't like their spouse, or significant other. I listen when they complain without saying “I told you so”. If I was in a position like Mr. Card seems to be with his “gay friends” and his religion then I certainly wouldn't be writing essays about how wrong I think they are, or at the very least I wouldn't mention them in an essay that I was sure they would find offensive on some level. It is better not to be named than to have your name used in something you are opposed to. I would even go so far to say that Mr. Card doesn't have any gay friends that have taken the time to read the same essays that I have read.

I shudder to imagine someone with the popularity of Mr. Card using that popularity to influence politics. I am afraid because my fellow countrymen do not wish to take the time and effort involved in informing themselves before they go to the ballot box. I am terrified that one day someone as persuasive, as Mr. Card will also be exceptionally charismatic, because if that day comes then our country, and quite possibly our world will be remade to their liking, and not the liking of the people.

We should all be, if not afraid, then wary, because these people do exist they are out there and Mr. Card has but to have the power to do so and he will destroy everything that we are. At the end of his essay “State Job Is Not to Redefine Marriage” Mr. Card states that there is only one definition of marriage and that any government who says otherwise is his mortal enemy and should be torn down. He even goes so far to say that he would help to tear said government down and rebuild it should such a redefining come to pass. So in Mr. Cards eyes then he would act to destroy the very foundation of our personal safety should gay marriage be allowed. Should he or someone like him succeed in overthrowing the government then our lives would become chaos, with riots in the street, and lack of law enforcement because of the fall of the government. Having made these statements Mr. Card has revealed himself as the enemy of free will, the democratic process, and the basic freedoms that are inherent in being a human being. In Mr. Card's world there would be no one's ideal of marriage or society but his own. The truth is that neither Mr. Card nor anyone else can prove that allowing gay people to marry will do any harm to their own marriage. This is ridiculous and nothing more than another piece of ammunition for those who would spout from their mouths what they have heard someone else say. Just like those who use the word “homophobe” a lot more often than they should. There is no logical reason that gay people cannot be given the same rights, and responsibilities as heterosexual couples who have entered into the contract of marriage. I personally don't care about a church wedding but the legal implications of being “married” by law. In the magistrates office or the altar, it doesn't matter to me as long as these couplings are seen as equal. If Mr. Card's church doesn't want to perform gay marriage ceremonies then they should be given the right, as a congregation to choose not to. It's not about redefining marriage, it's about giving one couple the same rights as another, without looking at the sexes of the couples involved. And excuse me for being so blunt, but The Mormon Church has no more right dictating government policy than it has the right to dictate catholic policy.

Church and state should be separated completely and let the only religious influence on the government be by the exercising of the morals of government officials as they see fit, as elected officials of the people, by the people, and for the people, to borrow a phrase. We all may disagree on the shades of gray, but we all know that there is a difference between right and wrong on the important things. Even though Mr. Card would stir equal parts fear, and righteousness, gays and lesbians being able to have the same benefits, and responsibilities as marriage, no matter what the name would in no way take from heterosexual marriage. Neither Mr. Card's marriage or any other will be harmed by allowing gay marriage, and in spite of his desire to influence the masses like Demosthenes and Lock, he will inevitably fail, or at least I hope he does.

Having said all that, here are some words for those who are less articulate than myself. Conniving, manipulative, self-righteous, arrogant, hypocrite. Conniving because he would force his views, and his way of life on any one who doesn't agree with his idea of how the world should be. Manipulative because he would use both his skill as a writer, and his popularity in order to keep anything from coming to pass that isn't included in his decidedly narrow world view. Self righteuos for the mind boggling scope of his desire to grind the gay community beneath his heel without concern for their thoughts, and feelings. Arrogant, because he thinks that with enough counseling the basic impulses of something we are born with can be changed to his liking, or the Straight path. Hypocrite because of his claims to have gay friends. If he has gay friends then it is because they have never read the essays written by Mr. Card that I have read. Hypocrite because he would mention these “gay friends” to further his own agenda in an effort to return those same gay friends to days when we had to fear walking up the street. Hypocrite, because he would dare talk about love, and kindness when there is so obviously a simmering dislike of gays trapped under the lid of his psyche just waiting to boil over.

I hope for the sake of all that this country is that Mr. Card and people like him fail in their campaigns of oppression. I hope that every man and woman finds their own flavor of happiness. I hope that the people of the United States of America will make an effort to enlighten themselves about the state of the world and the reality that surrounds them. I hope that the average person will no longer be content to take all their information from the television, or just one news source, or just one opinion. If we do make an effort to inform ourselves, then actions like Mr. Cards threat to overthrow the government will never come to pass because reason, and common sense will rule our collective actions, and no one will be able to hold too much sway in any one part of public opinion. I hope every member of society continues to look forward to the future, and not backward, as Mr. Card would have us look.

Divine

2009-10-25T13:32:00.001-04:00

I see god/divine being when I walk beneath the stars on a clear night.
I see him/her/it when I see the trees in an endless procession before and behind me as they whisper thier ancient knowledge to the winds.
I see the creator of all when I stand at the edge of the awesome ocean and feel the powerful thrumming of the waves
I see the maker of souls when I make love soft and slow for hours on end with the person I love
I feel the giver of joy lying in the grass on a perfect spring day when everything is that special green only found here in spring.
I see revealed the gateway to nirvana when I look into the clear sky and see the azure blue that promises peace and everlasting freedom.
I know something holy when I look into the liquid pools of deep chocolate brown that are my lovers eyes.
I consecrate myself my house and my partner with my love.
I love and I know I know and I love.
That is god/divine being/him/her/it/creator of all/maker of souls/giver of joy/gateway to nirvana/something holy/love/know/love/love/love/love/love/love/love/love/love