:::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 15, 2012 What to do. No denial. Tears that don't fall. Stale. Seemingly Godless. Lonely. Masochist. I loved him. I would have continued If it wouldn't have failed on its own. Lonely. Lonely. Alone. Aloneness.
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:::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 13, 2012 Abducted; this is how I find myself. My extraterrestrial invader has taken me to the furthest ring of Saturn. Here in his new ship--with the finest of equipment--he has stripped me from basic request, despite my original understanding.
What have I done? I asked for this. I used my powers to conjure this, and the might of those powers I did not understand.
Whenever you're like me you can fall for anything.
::::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 3, 2012
It's 3:07am; I'm awake with a visitor. I am to man a ship much larger than my own in the coming hours. It's strange where I find myself whenever I've been floating around up here.
I have no real purpose; I'm just observing.
It seems I've landed on the shores of Neptune. I saw picture of it in a magazine; it stuck my fancy, and I saw it as prime real estate for a personal holiday.
;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;it's strange the people you meet here, the sound you hear & the sounds you make, but most of all--the people.
"Exiled," comes to mind.
We're all bound to Egypt, despite my German heritage. I'm native Pagan, and have never escaped the flags of Acadiana.
As if I had more today, there have been no transmissions, however, I have been listening to the memoirs of Mister Bird. He is a lovely bow glazed in rosin.
My invader on the other hand--this illegal alien--is not as soft as I would have imagined him to be. I would suppose someone would think that finding life out here would prompt more ferocity in these words, but the truth is that the life that has been discover has only been rediscovered by since a journey I took five years ago.
Nothing new to report.
::::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; November 1, 2012
Last night a transmission came in over my receiver. The same voice as last time.
“It’s for the best we keep our distance, and for the rest of this I’ll keep it. Most of all, know I’m going to keep my armor on.”
The tiny speaker popped and crackled as the message seemingly finished, and then it continued.
“Boundaries–let’s build them, my own east and west. My own Berlin with a hope in the Fall I’m going to see that crumbling wall.”
The words ended, and I sat in the silence of the controls: a hum and a metronomic blip. I continued to float in my native solar system until sleep came. The message was correct.
::::::::incoming transmission from H.A.L. 2o12; October 27, 2012 I'm hanging out on the deck of a ship. My ship. I've been locked from my own quarters, By an extra terrestrial that I met along the way.
On this night I may come to my senses about this squandering journey. Or I might just spin this wheel one more time. "If circles could get over themselves," A voice from the past passes through a tiny speaker mounted to my receiver.
"Yes. Come in!.;" I spoke through the glass. But my attempts were futile So I allowed my self to drift while I waited for the extra terrestrial to return.
Once upon a time, I was able to sing songs that were true to my heart. I wonder now where those songs are now.
Those years in that solar systems.
I have three books that I want to read, but I wonder whenever I'll get around to it.
I'll be up for the rest of the night probably.
THE LGBT COMMUNITY IS SUCH A BULLY! They create their mantra to be that they were bullied and unaccepted by the rest of society; and go as far to make a public campaign speaking about how "it gets better". BUT whenever one business decides to speak against the HOMOSEXUAL POLITICAL AGENDA they BULLY them and lash out over the media to protest against what is one of the better corporations in the country because they worked their first amendment. To all the gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered who have stood for this, you should be a ashamed of your hypocritical actions. If I have never made it more clear than this, let it be known: I am ashamed that I have ever been associated with the LGBT community, and I DO NOT regret my choice to leave it.
Furthermore, I'm disappointed in Chick-Fil-A for backing down from what they believe as a company. This was all wrong: Everybody knew that Chick-Fil-A was a Christian company, likewise, everyone knows how the Christians stand on the topic of homosexuality.
In my opinion this was a set up--which is something that is only performed by BULLIES.
Tonight, I'm sitting in my automotive class at North Harris. I came into the computer lab to take an online quiz, and whenever I finished I found myself surfing the internet. I took today off of work as a way to unwind, but I think that unwinding take longer than what a day of oversleeping, grocery shoping, catching up on school, and an Amy Jo Johnson interview can provide. From here I could move into step two, but I guess I'm still not ready for that. That's the sad part of all of this: my delayed reaction to what I've already recognized is going on.
I would like to point out to all of my Christian family the thing that absolutely makes no sense: It is often said that America should return to its Christian roots. This is usually said in response to a political office, Muslims, Gay Rights, or any other kind hedonism branded by the Christian Majority (which might I add are typically right winged Republicans—so if you are one listen up).
The First Amendment States: Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievance.
I would like to take our focus on the very first statement of the Amendment. “Congress shall make NO LAW respecting an establishment of religion, or PROHIBITING the free exercise thereof;”
To establish an America as a Christian Country would be in complete disagreement to the doctrine that we so vigorously hold on to. Personally, I agree that the Christian doctrine is THE way of life, and would make for a good ground on which we all could stand on; but regardless of how good or how bad that would be, a Christian America is not an America at all—In fact, it is ANTI-America.
To establish a Christian America would mean to completely throw out the First Amendment, and not to mention that the Second Amendment would soon follow. A Christian America is NOT a free America. Christianity DOES NOT reflect the American Standard, in the same that the America Standard does not reflect Christianity.
Christianity could be paralleled to something more along the lines of a monarchy or socialist government whose ruler would be Jesus Christ. He would have the complete authority and first and final say. In America we govern ourselves as a democracy, which means that everyone has their own say, and that the majority rules in the end. Both of these concepts are completely opposite from each other, and do not cross by any means.
America promotes democracy; Christianity promotes a dictatorship.
We are not part of this world, and the Master makes that clear. Christianity and America are NOT interchangeable concepts, and it is a heresy to believe that they are. It is in my belief that we will never become better Christians—or Americans for that matter—until we can separate the two from each other.
For all of the people who lost someone; to all of the conspiracies; and all of the lives that were changed on that day. Despite what you think happened--it happened.
"It sure seems like God is some kind of trickster. Perhaps the devine is playing games with us."
-Richard Rohr; "Breathing Under Water"
"But He played me the games, and he showed me the ways how they laugh without saying a word."
It's as though the steps must start all over again as if they never started in the first place. I often find myself in places like these--at least once every couple of years. Broken beyond the point of recognition on the inside, and abandoned by even myself.
So what is it? Return to the 12 steps, the church, and the small groups, so that my life can resume it's previous identity as the well put together, well versed, and cultured creature that I pretend to be? That's not quite the answer.
Even to return to the self loathing, fragile, glitter bug that I used to be would not in itself help matters. My actions from the past month have proven that.
So what is it? In this place of vulnerability I have found myself powerless. In this place of vulnerability I have found myself mask-less despite my attempts to where them. I've been tucked away behind the blinds; I'm not lying to anybody, but I'm not telling it all either.
I look at this new place that I've come to call my home. I look at who I've become over the quarter of a century that I've been here: a suburban bohemian vagabond. Initially that's what I thought that I wanted to achieve, but in reality I think I've only accepted what I've felt I can't rise above.
The things I've used to validate myself are melting away; it's like a long drawn out funeral, and I just wish it would end.
In this I've found myself powerless.
"The ego self is always attached to mere externals, since it has no inner substance itself. The ego defines itself by its attachments and revulsion. The soul does not attach nor does i hate; it desires and loves and lets go."
-Richard Rohr; "Breathing Under Water"
Aesop’s story of the Fox and the Grapes is an interesting piece. There is a lot more to the story than the few words available actually present in my eyes. The first things that I would like point out is that our main character, the Fox, is indeed a fox, and through out human history the fox is metaphorically portrayed as sly and clever. However, this fox is not. If anything this fox is lazy and acceptant of denial. Being the cleverest of the animal kingdom, I wonder if this is not what Aesop had in mind when telling this story. Surely he could have climbed up the trellis on which the grapes grew.
Another question point to this tale is who the antagonist really is. At first the blame is directed towards the grapes, but I think the real enemy of the story is the Fox’s own pride, laziness, and arrogance. Initially he wanted the grapes, but eventually he would turn his nose away from them claiming they were sour.
It’s reminds me of my own life, and how in the past—and probably in the future—I have denied myself the better things in life because they were not easily obtained, e.g., scholarships, positions on athletic teams, or a seat next to the pretty girl who I liked. All of these things I could have had for myself, but because I didn’t apply my natural abilities, like the Fox who is clever, I’ve walked away rejecting the grapes that at first I so hungry for. I wonder if the Fox—like myself—was left as bitter and sour on the inside as he perceived the grapes?
Last Friday night, I had dinner at one of the fine restaurants on Kings Harbor with one of my very good friends, Lynn Beckwith. We sat and spoke for hours about her family, her personal life, and daily dealings as an average American. It’s a side of Lynn Beckwith that I’ve seen since the three years ago that we met.
I wondered on that evening: out of all the people in town who know Lynn, how many of them have exclusive dinner dates with the popular radio personality, philanthropist, and businesswoman?
I would like to paint a picture of our evening together, so that everyone can know the woman behind one of the top automotive repair facilities in America—and answer the question on everyone’s mind: Who is this Lynn Beckwith, and how did she become such a small town success of suburbia?
Lynn attended college in Texas where she began to pursue her artistic passions as photography major. “I’ve always had a problem with depth perception, so I think that has always given me an advantage at seeing images as a photograph or a painting. I have an eye for seeing the world flat on the page or canvas;” however, being the logical thinker that she is, part way through her college career she changed her major to something that could allow her to be more valuable in a corporate market. She graduated from college at the top of her class in the late 80’s with a major in Business Administration, and a minor in Photography.
After college, in May of ’89, she went into business for herself opening Beckwith’s Car Care. “My friends from college tell me that I would always talk about owning my own business,” she says, “Working on cars was just something I’ve always done. I never had any money in college, so if whatever I was driving broke—I had to fix it. Whenever the opportunity came to open Beckwith’s everything seemed to fall into place.”
Lynn became an anomaly for the automotive repair industry as a single woman shop owner, and became part of a minority in an extremely competitive market. Beckwith’s soon became the talk of the town as it progressed towards a nationally recognized multi-award winning operation. “I’ve always put 100% into everything that I’ve done. [Everything] from projects in school to marketing, I’ve always strived to be the best that I could.”
As the shops popularity began to grow Lynn was invited to join an alliance of local shop owners in the Houston area that holds meetings discussing the issues that concern the industry as a whole, and the standards by which it operates. “As a woman, being invited into this group—which is dominated by men—was a huge milestone. I was honored to know that Beckwith’s had what it takes.”
As a young girl Lynn’s father professed the mantra to “always surround yourself with people who are better than you are.” It is a practice that has bode well for her, as her employees—like her shop—have been recognized and awarded for their skills as technicians, and for outstanding customer service.
Come the second decade of the new millennium, Lynn’s business had become a “well oiled machine,” but despite its ability to run itself, she still makes a conscious effort to be at the shop the majority of the time saying, “I think it says a lot whenever you go into a business, and the owner is there to shake your hand. In this day that’s something that you don’t see too often.
She has continued to venture into new territory as with two years ago, and the “That Car Lady” personality; it supports a consumer education campaign, and hosts educational classes at the local college and women’s enlightenment. That Car Lady presents a feature based Monday mechanic program on AM950, as well as automotive tips throughout the week. She is a regular host The Car Counselor Show, a call in talk show, and a variety of other shows including Fox New Features.
“I think it’s important to remain goals oriented, and strive to reach those goals.” This is an idea that Lynn continues to practice as this past year has also brought the latest installment of Lynn Beckwith’s enterprise: “Rage Bull Customs,” an aftermarket accessory line that features lift kits, spray in bed liners, and performance upgrades.
She continues to be an active member in the community as well. Just recently Lynn Beckwith helped organize “Cure Fest,” an all day music festival that raised money for brain cancer research. Among other things, she’s supported charities such as The American Heart Association, Child Advocates, and The Susan B. Komen Foundation.
As our evening drew to a close, the waiter brought us our ticket, and the sun set passively over Lake Houston. It is truly an honor to be involved with one of the Lake Houston Area’s finest. Lynn Beckwith has been a blessing to her industry, and to Harris County. “I’ve dedicated myself to making sure that when people leave my doors, they have a smile on their face—because at the end of the day that’s what’s most important.”
To learn more about Lynn Beckwith, Beckwith’s Car Care, That Car Lady, or Raging Bull Customs please visit www.beckwiths.com for more information.
A sound that approached me; It was comforting to learn it.
About a year ago, I embarked on a recording project with a friend of mine—Richard Savercool. Every Tuesday night I would go to a very tiny city north of Houston called Paton Village; I would meet with Richard at Freedom Family Church in a tiny room that he had set up as a recording studio.
Accompanied by his wife, Trista, at times, Richard and I began to explore some of my writings that go back as far as 2007. Together, I was able to journey back to those far reaches of space that I traveled to during “Constellation BluePrint”, and reminisce of the gravity and flood that was “A Piscean Journey Through the Martian Battlefront.”
Though I was able to explore deeper parts of the music that was written so long ago, what was most valuable about the experience with him was that he allowed me to learn a lot about who I am as a musician, what it is I want to achieve, and what it is I’ve been doing since I was in high school.
Richard brought my music to—what could be considered—a pop influenced mainstream sub genre. Growing up on 90’s pop, I couldn’t have been more excited about the ear candy that grazed my ears during the recording process. I learned that songs just don’t happen, and the amount of time that is put into them is grueling.
Earlier this year, the writing process began to creep up on me, and my focuses began to shift from the work that has been to the work that will be. Along with other variables, Richard and I officially ended our unfinished project.
Being a year since the project began—give or take—I thought it to be right to finally share this music with public. The short release features the three songs that Richard and I completed. I hope all enjoys them. All song are available to downloadFREE.
For the past year I have been working closely with the Richard Savercool on many musical projects. With Richard being worship pastor at Family Freedom Church--where his offices are located--I was asked by him, and Brother Roy Jackson to join the worship band on the keys a few months after Richard and I's work had begun.
Within the past month or so, our band has definitely taken a turn for the better. Trista, Richard's wife, was at our practice the other night; she took a video of us revamping one of our regular songs. I hope it is enjoyed:
Ryan is quite the creative character; Also, he's quite destructive to people's private creative space.
Along my artistic journey, I have run into some very inspiring people; one of those people date back to my days in high school, whenever I was a senior. I worked for her mother in the year prior, so I knew to be expecting a talent entering the pit section—that I was the leader of—in the marching band.She and I got off to a horrible start. I could say that I downright despised her. Musically speaking, she was quite better than me, so her demise was something that I would have been satisfied in as I exited my final year of high school. Once the drama of high school disappeared—for reasons I can’t recall—she contacted me via MySpace. I can remember a few Saturdays that she and I would hang out, go to the movies, and talk about our artistic journeys. I learned that she and I were actually a lot alike in how we practiced our trades as musicians, and since then I’ve come to have a great respect for who she is & and what she stands for. She’s kept in touch with me over the past few years since I left my home town, and just recently she’s began posting music videos of her performing original music on YouTube. With all of that being said I would like to introduce to my readers who may or may not know her: Singer/Songwriter; Lori Fields…
To see more videos from Lori check out her YouTube Channel.
While praying for the confirmation to burn my books, I was given a word from the Lord that inferred the following: Don’t worry about it because you have the eclipse. I figured that it was going to be nothing more than another mile stone in my life; it was something that I longed to see for most of my consciousness, but what I was unaware of was the absolute wonder that the Lord would display to me--not just in the phenomenon of the eclipse--but in the revelation revealed to me as I peered upon it.
I left early that Sunday morning, and traveled some nine hours to Lubbock, Texas which was the last stop along the celestial event’s path.
Like most road trips, I prepared the music that I would listen to while I traveled. Bon Iver, Birdy, Trampled by Turtles, Soley, and—peculiarly enough—Veil of Maya were the players of this journey.
I got to spend the majority of the trip towards my destination speaking with a woman that I will one day call my wife. Through unnatural satellites we spoke about many things until the darkest hours of her night, and the brightest hours of my day. It was a pleasure to spend that time with her. I told her I loved her—through futile devices—for the first time since we decided to work towards a future together. My journey continued to mark miles in my life as our conversation faded, and I was on my own.
West Texas is a spectacle in itself. The landscapes are drastically different out there than I imagined. This was the first time I’d ever been so far west.
I saw plateaus manifested; much like I found myself spiritually on a plateau months ago, I saw in the distance the sudden rise of elevation. At its peak, it tapers upward into about fifty yards of flat land: an island in the sky. Upon these peaks were massive white windmills that gathered energy.
As I was viewing this site my CD player had reached track nine of the appropriately titled album Eclipse by Veil of Maya. A dear friend from Acadiana gave the record to me during my last visit to my homeland with the intent that I would find in my acoustic musicianship a respect for metal. The track—bearing the same title as the record—penetrated the seat of my emotions: a somber introduction that lands the listener into a droning genre contradicting circle that had me by the ears as it burned its unspoken message into my heart.
The narrative of Veil of Maya’s record is based on the story of a blind woman the band met in Europe whose vision was restored after starting directly at an eclipse. It was after hearing this song for the first time, recalling its narrative, and knowing what I was told by the Holy Dove, that I realized that I was on a intangible journey as much as I was on a tangible one.
I was tired from my drive when I arrived at Lubbock Lake National Historic Landmark: a very ancient and prehistoric place. There were statues of oversized armadillo, bison, and mammoths. I walked through the exhibits where they showed the grand exodus across Beringia, and into the Americas. The land is dedicated to an ancient spring fed lake that once existed until it dried up in the 1930’s due to modern day Americans digging water wells in the area. What was left behind is what would be an archeologist’s dream.
There I was, in a place that had been inhabited by human for thousands of years waiting for an event that would press into reaches far beyond my ordinary humanity.
A large covering of clouds had the view of the sun blocked for about an hour before the eclipse started. I was worried that it would prevent me from seeing the the show. With this, I soon began to recall my burned writings from 2007.
“It’s just eclipsing, and the overcast is commencing.”
A line from one of my songs—“Out of Aquarius”—from Constellation BluePrint, floated through my mind. This recollection brought a tear to my eye. What was once just a clever hook & a metaphor to one’s relationship with the Father, in a moment became fulfilled in my heart. The song had received its salvation from the fire that consumed it days before.
As the Moon’s transit began an applauds from the crowed followed. I covered my mouth, and again, tears filled my eyes as I watched the bottom right of the Sun begin to darken
The regeneration continued through out the event as I starred at the sun through the protection of a welder’s mask. Like the four hard corners of my writings of 2011--Monolith, the rectangular glass filtered the Sun in a green tent—like the image of the green sun that was assigned to “DreamCast & SolarFlare” in 2007.
The Sun soon set behind the clouds of the western horizon, so I was unable to see the entire event. I watched the sunbeams in the dusk light; my heart was filled with a joy & love of the Father that I was unable express through words, music, or any other futile device.
I was on my way home around nine that evening.
Tears filled my eyes as I waited at red lights in Lubbock to leave. Something that I’d longed to see for so long became the mile stone I thought it would’ve been, and was much more than that alone. The art that I’d burned earlier that week was given a soul purpose; it was as if the writings were all a prophecy that had finally come to fruition. What I thought those songs were about was destroyed in the flame, and were given a new life—something that only comes through Christ: made new through the vehicle of the eclipse.
On the ride home I reached speeds of at least 110mph on the back roads of West Texas. I sang hymns of praise to the Lord as I traveled. He had expressed a love to me that I’d not experienced before. I’d given myself to him in the book burning, and in return he showed his favor to me through the gift of the eclipse. He is the Lord of unequal exchange; for the small things we sacrifice, he gives back with an abundant return.
Standing outside my Civic peering into the night’s sky seeing for the first time an almost complete expanse I stopped on those dark roads that night to keep myself from the hypnosis of the early morning night. I’d never seen so many stars before. These were the main players in the writings of Constellation BluePrint, and finally--I’d seen them with my own eyes.
“…head for the stars…”
Sometimes we have to do the things that we're called to do without questioning the motives of the one who's given the orders. These were the words that I'd collected from my brain for over the past five years. I didn't have to go through with it; I was given the chance to opt out of the situation. Somehow I knew that this was the answer to one of the four questions I've had on my heart for the past few weeks: "How does one drop their nets?" I posed this question to Jehovah & the rest of the Trinity. Denial of self is a strong theme and commandment within my sacred text, and was spoken by Christ Himself. All those words; all those songs; all those hooks, and phrases are now dust. I'm reminded of words that have been cultivated in the flowerbed that is being prepared by the father: "When you die from what you used to be, I found who I was in the man that was left of me"--"From ashes to dust."