The hidden voice

When it comes to senses, perhaps the most helpful one of all when one needs to perceive things that are hidden between the lines, is intuition. It seems to be a voice of reason when we get caught up in a new situation, or are not fully focused in the present moment and need an internal slap to bring us back. I firmly believe in this sixth sense and cannot count the times it has been useful, even lifesaving.

Several years ago I was touring Portugal by train. As I was nearing the city of Sintra where I would disembark, I decided to stretch my legs and walk through one train car to the next. It was very late and I was quite tired from the long day touring about, so probably wasn't as keen to pick up on what would have otherwise been screaming out to me.

As I got to the end of the car, I opened the door and could see the door to the next car a few feet ahead. It was dark and as I started to take a step, I paused. Perhaps it was a voice from within that prompted me to reconsider, or some other force at work, but it was enough to get me to stop.

I then looked down and I froze as a saw that a couple of feet of good floor board suddenly gave way to a steady dark movement. As I looked closer, I could see open track flashing by - a certain and quick demise that was saved for another day simply because I listened to that inner voice that was telling me something wasn't right. I recall standing there dumbfounded and then turning back and staying glued to my seat, hardly believing the speed at which one can transition between pleasure to ill fate, simply by not staying aware.

There are many facets to life that we do not have the answers to or can measure, however, they still exist. Occasional experiences like this causes one to step back and question the possibilities and unseen forces that may be at work, and in a sense adds to the mystery of what else may be there which our limited senses can pick up on.

Perhaps intuition is just a higher brain function - a communication between the subconscious and conscious - when something is perceived as not being right on a deeper level that our basic senses overlook. Whatever the case, intuition can offer us occasional insights that can useful, even life saving.

On weight loss

The human brain is a very important tool that can greatly aid in weight management when properly channeled, in addition to other sensible lifestyle changes. Since everything is basically energy, thought can be harnessed to produce real physical changes in one's body and overall health.

If you follow the steps below, you will loose weight and keep it off:

1) Formulate an image of the body you want to have and think of it continually. See that body in your mind's eye and believe in yourself to get it. Visualization is very powerful, in all areas of improvement.

2) Eat sensibly and be aware of the calories you are consuming. Read labels and avoid foods that contain excess sugar and sodium. As you cut sugar and sodium out, your taste for those foods containing it will naturally diminish. The same principle applies to fatty foods. Eat a lot of fiber rich foods: fruits, vegetables, whole grains, Etc. Additionally, eating several smaller meals is better than three larger ones where you are stuffing yourself. Drinking two large glasses of water before you eat to help fill you up is helpful as well.
It's okay to treat yourself now and then, but not every day. One day a week can be designated as your splurge day where you can have dessert or that fatty hamburger. If you follow the one day a week concept, that means only four days a month will be days you went off your diet, which is obviously much better than 30 days. Whatever you do, do not starve yourself to loose weight, since repeated hunger triggers processes in your body to conserve calories and will slow your metabolism.

3) Avoid diet pills - there are no quick fixes and they can be dangerous!

4) Exercise, exercise, exercise! Everyone can do something physical unless you cannot move due to a disability. A good start is to build the muscle in your legs, by using a thread mill or exercycle. I don't recommend running if you are too big, as this can put enormous strain on your knees and an injury will take you out of the game. The quadriceps are the largest muscles in your body and are fat burning machines. And everyone knows muscle burns fat.
Spend the first four to six weeks focusing on your quadriceps and then incorporate other muscle groups. Muscle boosts your metabolism and that's the key - burning calories while you are resting. One hour a day is a good start and make sure you sweat. If you have any heart concerns, get a physical prior to starting an exercise routine, especially if you have been off one for awhile

5) Believe and you will achieve. Don't forget to use visualization, its power cannot be over stated.
Loosing weight and keeping it off is not complicated and there are simple steps you can take to achieve your goals. There is no such thing as a quick fix when it comes to weight management and the reality is it takes commitment and a lot of effort. The hardest part is consistency. You must make a decision to help yourself and stick with it - this is your time and if you really want to loose the excess weight you can do it.

The Sea

By the Sea I feel the wonder,
aside its greatness I am small,
waves crash in steady rhythm,
carrying messages as they fall.

In the void I look for answers,
sift the shore for hidden clues,
unable to reach the treasure,

churning deep beneath the blue.

A darkness shrouds the water,

in dunes I move with care,
on a thin veil floats a whisper,
the Sea finds me through the air.

Memory

The ability to remember events from a very early age has always been easy for me and to this day, decades afterwards with clarity, I can remember being in a stroller very close to a large fountain that has water cascading down an ornate center piece. It is very hot out and I can feel the misty spray hitting my face.

That is as far back as I can go with memories of real events and I was probably two when it took place. There is another memory that I believe comes earlier, but doesn't line up to anything factual. I am in a room lying in an older style bed with vertical metal bars at the end of it. There is a person in the room I sense to be a nurse and the overall style of everything appears to be from the 1940's.

The feeling that I get when I reflect on this memory is that the person in the bed is dying. When I recall the memory - which is always easy to do with the same detail - it is very different in the sense that there is a strong emotion that ties to it. What I feel is a great sadness that involves longing and a fear of dying alone. Since this memory doesn't belong to this lifetime, I feel it is the last images of a real moment; an event that took place in another time and place. The emotion of this memory is so strong and surpasses the visual details.

Here's my Hollywood version of what might have happened: I was a soldier once fighting on foreign soil with only a short time left before my tour of duty was over. My wife was at home preparing to give birth and this is all I thought about, her image remaining a constant. Her letters were tied together and I kept them in the pocket that was right above my heart. Whenever I touched the bundle, her sweet smile took shape before my eyes and reminded me of what was right in the world. There was one last mission to do, a simple supply run within a safe zone. While enroute our convoy was ambushed and the truck I was riding in overturned. The last thing I remember is something that felt like a bee sting, then seeing a pool of red form which quickly engulfed the bundle of letters I always held close to me.

I wonder about this early memory and if I glimpsed into something that I should not have. Or maybe this memory is something that I should have which is a natural part of the process? Perhaps the memory will make sense later and is something that will happen in the future on a foreign landscape. Or maybe it was a carry-over from a past life? Whatever should become of this memory, I feel that it possibly holds an answer and will one day make sense. At times it doesn't seem that there can be any promise in death, however, in death perhaps there is a new beginning and occasionally something slips through with it that should have remained behind.

I am a product of the Los Angeles Unified Public School System - academically molded and shaped by the well intentioned, yet creativity-lacking hands of yesteryear. In retrospect, I believe that there was a great lack of creativity in the way education was delivered and that we students were not always taught how to be passionate about acquiring knowledge. The art of teaching is so much more than just droning on about the facts; it is more importantly about instilling a passion and getting students excited to learn.

I don't blame my teachers from so long ago, they were doing their job to the best of their ability and most likely were not getting the compensation that they deserved. That lament can still be heard years hence with teachers periodically striking for better pay or benefits. How can it possibly be expected that teachers who make it their life's work to help others, motivate students when they are not fully satisfied with their employment?

I recall way back when the busing system was first implemented. I was a tall, skinny kid in the seventh grade just getting over the shock of transferring to the "big kids school." One day, several buses showed up and delivered countless inner-city kids to my new school's door. There was never any communication from the teachers to us students about the new arrivals and they just appeared. I suppose the administrators imagined that there would be a seamless integration - how wrong they were. It seems so ridiculous now that a plan could be implemented on that large of scale with so little regard for preparing the students; I imagine as well those being delivered to our school.

Was it that the students just didn't matter, or the idea we might be prepared for the upcoming change just overlooked? Or was it imagined that we were so pliable that it would just all work itself out? This ties into something that I experienced over and over as a student, that a vital connection seemed to be missing and that the teachers were the teachers, and the students were merely the students without any deep interface between the two. I never recall feeling connected to any of my teachers.

I'm not professing that I was a perfect student by any means and that there wasn't a little rebel there, but why couldn't at least one of them have broken through? Did they just not try? I never remember being excited about school and it was a drudgery for the most part. The role of a teacher is foremost, an instructor of facts. But there must be a connection, or conduit, for that knowledge to pass through and reach impressionable young students - energy and passion opens that pipeline and students feed off it! Learning must be kept creative and fun.

Additionally, early learning skills should be taught at home, but unfortunately some children come from environments where this is not happening as it should. School is not meant to be a replacement for home and teachers are not in the position to be surrogate parents, however, this reality is commonplace and children often put their early teachers on the same level as a parent. Teachers, in a sense, are holding clay and can be very instrumental in shaping the future of their students. They play vital roles in their students lives and teach the fundamentals, as well as filling in the gaps that are too often overlooked at home. Passion is sometimes missing and is the one important key to get children excited about learning and on their way to being academically successful.

Softly it flutters,
on wind it flies,
carries emotion,
cuts like a knife.

Formless it loves,
weightless it kills,
passionately cries,
a fate it will seal.

Pulls down the holy,
kings from their thrones,
allays while unseen,
hearts that are torn.

Moves in the air,
profound and absurd,
carried by inflection,
a powerful word.

Watery rushes of music,
A soothing earth song,
Flowing past a moment,
Echoing time gone.

The soft-spoken water,
Etches ribbon pathways,
Sparkles dance in the air,
As it sculpts in the clay.

Messages in the granite,
Deep carves in the stone,
Earthly hieroglyphs reveal,
A cascading lost song.

Passion

Passion is a term with many different meanings depending on the context - from steamy sheets to a spring in our step, it covers the gamut. In its purest sense, passion moves one forward and keeps things interesting as we spin at hundreds of miles of hour through space, giving us energy and driving us forward on our life's ride.

Passion for life and the ability to see the abounding greatness that surrounds us at every turn, is perhaps the greatest passion of all. When you think about it, every single day can hold infinite possibilities and each new day grants us many reasons to be passionate if we allow ourselves to be receptive. When we start a new day, we should be thankful that we have been afforded more time for accomplishment.

Whatever a person's status, there is always room for improvement and the chance to become better; each day being a new page to allow one to rewrite their story. In the end, we are accountable for our days and how we use them. As the steady beat of time moves us through life hyper-speed, it is easy for hours to merge as a dull blur if one is not managing the content of them very carefully. Or conversely, each day can be rich and free-standing as mini accomplishments of our own masterful design.

When one chooses to be passionate about life and understands that great changes can occur in a very short time if good energy is properly channeled, life really moves to a different level and becomes magical. When everything is flowing and one is confident and following the principles of karma, self-actualization occurs and unimagined levels can be reached - good energy always finding its way to good energy. These concepts are not difficult and are a natural a part of the order of the universe. Karma is self-fulfilling.

As one journeys through life, one must continually remember that they are the masters of their fate; the writers of their history. Whatever one's station in life is, it was by a series of personal choices that moved them forward to it. If we should fly, we must gather the strength to pull ourselves through the wind and have the courage to soar high - our course beintg limited or as far-reaching as we decide.

The ability to rediscover passion for life is always there within us and waiting. One just simply needs to look at the depth of the ocean or the reach of the stars above. Or look into the eyes of a young child which always contain visible white sparkles of happiness and realize that we are part of something greater - a buzzing energy stream that can never cease to exist, which is all held as a small bundle within the palm of God.

To find life's passion, one simply needs to open their eyes. Seeing with the heart is the hard part.

Egos suck

I have worked in Hollywood for the past ten years and while I enjoy the employment, I dislike the big egos that seem to pervade the entertainment business at every turn. There can be such a warped sense of reality when it comes to what is actually important in life, compared to that which is imaged as being important that can create foolish power drives for some. Sadly the basis for some to gauge success off can contain some fairly shallow elements, all seeming to be born from the motivation of making a buck and stepping on whomever one needs to while making it happen.

While it goes without saying that the need to obtain money makes us all to varying degrees slaves to it and unable to always have a complete freedom of choice to what we do for employment, we do have the power to choose how we conduct ourselves. That is called being evolved. While a person can be a successful money-maker, they can simultaneously be a failure at being human if they whore themselves in the process.

On Travel...

To best understand the reasons why to travel, it is important to classify the various ways one can go about it. One method involves taking a pre-planned tour which obviously removes the headache out of arranging the trip and keeps things predictable; a travel adventure is another way that involves something a bit more culturally immersing and is quite unpredictable. That is the method of travel I prefer and it is addicting.

A travel adventure offers the unknown, but potential traveler be warned, you will most likely return more tired than when you left. To best relate why I opt to travel this way, it is necessary to draw on my own great traveling experience which took three-months and involved visiting 13 countries.

I left on soggy morning from LAX and flew off to Madrid with only a backpack and a wad of travelers checks. I was alone, save for a couple of travel books for companions that were swiftly ditched in a dirty hotel in Madrid due to the excess weight and lack the usable information they contained. It was a difficult decision, but trust me, the ounces (in this case pounds) count when one is lugging a heavy backpack around!

As a male, going alone was not as much as an issue as it would be for a female (this is a sad reality due to some countries view that women are somehow less than men; an unfortunate and deep-seated social dynamic affecting both women travelers, as well as the native residents). Going alone was not being alone at all; in the end I estimated that I traveled with others I had met on trains, boats, or wherever for about 75% of my trip, which allowed me to forge some long-lasting friendships while I bounced aound the world. There is something to be said about solo travel and how it is a good set-up to connecting with others, whereas going with someone might cause you to limit yourself.

A travel adventure means getting in the streets and doing a lot of walking, which brings one into inevitable contact with the locals - how else can one truly experience a culture and a country other than mixing with the inhabitants? But one should read up on the culture where they plan to visit, as all too often new travelers loose sight that things are not the same all over the world.

My trip was a non-stop adventure! I would wake very early and would leave myself open to any number of possibilities the day presented.. I had a loose itinerary that I more or less followed, but always left me space to deviate if a new whim should present itself. Each city I visited became a puzzle to be solved, and I would time my arrivals so there would be enough daylight to look around for a room, which was always the first order of business. Once settled in , I would hit the streets and stay out as long as my tired feet would allow.

When arriving to a new city, I would try to find a tourist office and secure a good map. If one was not available, I would start walking towards what I thought to be the city center and look for places to stay as I made my way along, which naturally became a mini-tour in itself. Sheer intuition was my guide more times than I could count, but when that didn't work, I became lost which more often than not had some serendipitous outcome. This approach afforded me so many great experiences of becoming mis- and re-directed by the kind advice of others. Again, the importance of experiencing the streets - rather than so-called tourists attractions or stuffy museums - to add a cultural dynamic of one's travel can not be overstated.

Every day offered something new and exciting and this went on for three months. My days expanded, as time will, when they are filled with a lot of variety and change. By the close of my trip, it felt like a year had gone by and everything would have been a huge blur if I hadn't logged my day's events into a travel journal, which is something I strongly recommend for later reflection when forgetfulness starts to overtake the once vivid memories.

There were days when things didn't go well and I couldn't find a room and had no other choice but to hop back on a train and take a all-night trip somewhere as my pseudo room for the night. Or the time a drunk guy attempted to rob me in Cadiz, Spain and almost fell over in the process. Later this all became a necessary part of the overall experience, greatly adding to it a strange way.

In retrospect, my traveling adventure was one of the best educational experiences I have ever had and introduced me to so many wonderful cultures and friends from around the world, which I could have only guessed about if I hadn't gone out there and found out for myself. It made my world smaller, leaving me with the impression that people are essentially the same where ever you go.

So go out and see the world! And if you opt for adventure travel when you go, you will love it and return a much changed person.

The sense of loss when my father passed away gripped at my insides and forever changed my world. It was easy to imagine that he would always be there, that he was somehow super human and would defy medical logic and live way beyond normal. However, his time came way too soon as it always does when one looses a parent.

My father was my friend and my buoy - the one soul who would listen to my idealistic ramblings with a calm patience and guide me through my oversights with artful sensitivity. He was quick with a witty remark, always had a wonderful story to tell, and could light up a room simply by walking into it. He had a commanding presence and looked a bit like "Mannix," the TV detective of the 70's. He was also a consummate ladies man with a compliment waiting up both sleeves that was always unique and genuine; a polished speaker with brains to back it up, he really seemed to have it all.

My father was quick to laugh from his heart, but there was also a sadness that pervaded him on occasion that I link to his time spent fighting for his country in the Korean War. I am sure he saw hell on the frozen North Korean landscape and would only speak briefly about his time as a Marine Sargent. If my brother and I pinned him down with enough questions about the various scars that he wore, he would tell us a watered down version of some event to satiate our inquisitiveness and then send us on our way. We never considered what inner wounds our prodding was pouring salt into - he was GI Joe to us and we didn't care.

In some ineffable communication, my father told us that his stories would need to stay under lock and key - maybe it was a glimmer of pain that showed in his eyes - and we soon understood not to ask anymore. In my later teens I got bold and queried again and was told of an event where his boot got partially shot off his foot and that the large scar on his shin was caused by a 40 caliber round. Apparently that wasn't enough and he also got hit with burning shrapnel in the forehead, which left a diagonal scar as a reminder and promptly knocked him unconscious. He later awoke strapped to the side of a helicopter a few hundred feet in the air, apparently saved by some unknown comrade. There was a notable anguish in his eyes when he recounted his story that seemed to say: this is all I can give you, please don't ask me again.

I only recall seeing the Purple Heart he received once and never knew what became of it. But after he had passed away my brother and I packed his belongings and there it was, hidden with some other military items including his discharge papers and the records of the various military campaigns that he was involved in. It almost seemed that these items were kept not out of pride of accomplishment, but to remind him that what had happened while he was in the war was ordered by his country and not out of any design of his own.

My father was a man of integrity and had a strength of character that I couldn't grasp when I was younger and still don't fully get as an adult. He was from another time that seemed to be stronger and braver - of a generation of men that the world will not see the likes of again.

911

A fire ripped open the sky,
scorching the hearts
of the world.
Stunned in silence we watched,
not believing,
unable to grasp
what lay in the ruins.
Something great was lost,
indefinable,
ineffable,
far beyond the destruction
and death,
an ideal.
A page turned,
a chapter ended,
the new one
too painful
for the story.
Marching forward,
we took backwards steps,
trying to force redemption,
while sifting for closure
in dust that could never settle.
There was nothing
that could begin
to replace
what was taken
right before our eyes, 
and in the moment
we blinked,
the last remains of
our innocence
was stolen away.

Faraway girl, dark and mysterious to me,

she's free like the wind to be who she must be,

free with a spirit that moves alone in time,

with pretty-knowing eyes, so unlike other kinds.

Her untamed heart beats the songs of her will,

her haunting eyes whisper softly whisper,

your soul she will steal,

faraway girl, so different like the sands,

she holds me close without a touch of her hand.

The night city hides in glimmer,

transforming images of despair,

sparkles fall from cast reflections,

and rain from panes up in the air.

Dissonance turns into sad music,

sirens mourn out from the lanes,

city noises become a soundtrack,

on high-heeled streets devoid of shame.

Soiled walks appear to glitter,

bathed in neon from the square,

shaded alleys slip into darkness,

hiding screams that choke for air.

Humanity turns to dark refrain,

ghostly figures walk and sway,

living lies within their bottles,

the soulless city throwaways.

The night city seems to beckon,

over the water it reaches and calls,

moving, alive, and pulsing,

across the river one will fall.

The Ice Garden (c) 2009

The first hint of day was revealed by a thin sliver of light that kissed the horizon. Eli Cray lay in his bed, wishing that this day would somehow be different, than the dull stream that had preceded it. Just moments before, he had been dreaming of a garden - his prize winning garden - with corn stalks reaching the clouds and pumpkins the size of small cars.

"I will win this year's event," he thought, "you just try and top this Broady Wilson!"

But the sound of a passing snow plow tore him from his slumber and as he realized it was only a dream, he fought to hold the image of the giant stalks and the large pumpkins a moment longer before they faded away.

"Great, just a darn dream," he muttered.

"Eli, breakfast," rang out from the stairs below.

"How's your ice garden Eli," came next followed by a giggle and the sound of feet running down the stairs."

"At least I'm growing something," screamed Eli at the fading footsteps.

"I'm not going to ask you again," yelled Eli's mother from below, "just because school is closed today doesn't mean you get a free day!"

Eli pulled himself out of bed and the sting of the cold floor made his body quiver. He flipped on the light and checked his breath with a steady blow towards the ceiling, watching as a familiar white puff danced away.

As he opened the curtains he saw the misty panes of glass aglow with morning red, giving him the impression of a multi-faceted insect's eye. He wiped at a pane, clearing a circle of icy mist and inspected the landscape. A lone tree stood in the middle of the yard like a frozen sentry guarding a giant white ocean.

"More snow, just what we needed," he muttered.

His eyes traced the trunk of the tree downwards, to a small garden enclosure that stood by its base. The roof was missing and a side wall was leaning outward.

"Eli...don't make me come up there," rang out from below.

"I knew it wouldn't work...why did I listen?" thought Eli as he flung the curtains closed and looked around for his sweatshirt.

"I'm coming," screamed Eli towards his bedroom door, as if answering a thought he sensed would soon be articulated.

As he made his way down the stairs to the kitchen, he exhaled in short puffs and watched as the cold air condensed his breath, imagining himself a steam train descending into a mountain town.
"Well look who decided to show up," said his mother without any further greeting.

"Sorry, can we use the heat for a while?" mumbled Eli as if pleading with the cold air.

"Heat," retorted his mother, "is a luxury you'll have to do without!"
She then looked towards Eli's father as the last word left her mouth, who was sitting somewhere behind a newspaper and her eyes began to say something, but she caught herself before the words could pass her lips.

"Just think how cold your garden must feel," quipped Eli's little sister Sam, whose eyes followed his every move. Eli considered his seeds frozen in the soil outside.

"Shut up about my garden and stop staring," snapped Eli.

"Enough...sit Eli," shouted his mother who discreetly wiped a tear from her eye that no one had noticed. The creased face of his father suddenly emerged from behind the floating newspaper at the table.

"We'll fix it Eli, this weather has got to break."

Eli hurried down breakfast and put on his heavy jacket and snow boots.

"I need to clear the snow off my garden," he announced and quickly ran out.

"Well stay on our property E...," was cut off by the slamming of the door. Eli's mother watched as Eli jumped from the porch and kicked at the snow.

"He'll never win, he never does," said Eli's sister.
His father put down his paper and looked tenderly at Sam.

"Quiet...he's trying at least."

He then looked out the window at Eli, who was trying to push up the side of the enclosure. He recalled his own school project; a small popsicle-stick mission that slanted to one side as if melting.

"I'm going to help Eli," Eli's father said, which hardly stirred any response other than a nod from Eli's mother and a frown from Sam.

As Eli's father opened the door, the crisp air bit at his ears and he reconsidered his outfit.

"Blasted news, they never get it right!" he mumbled.

Before he shut the door, he looked out at his son who appeared small against the monotonous landscape, as a lone ship might lose its scale when seen on a flat and blank ocean.

"I'll be out soon...don't disturb the seeds," he yelled, as Eli pushed at the enclosure. He thought of his mission and smiled at the parallel that suddenly occurred to him.

Eli removed his mittens and raked between the flattened rows of his garden with his fingers. The cold made them burn and every few moments he rubbed his hands together and slapped the icy dirt off. He looked towards the lone tree and saw his leather work gloves underneath, frozen in a permanent wave. He laughed and waved back. Eli reached down and pulled a seed from the soil, remembering exactly where he had planted the biggest one.

"Hey Eli, you coming over today?" yelled a small voice from behind him.

"Maybe, but I've got to finish some things first," answered Eli without turning to look at his neighbor, more interested in the raised voices suddenly coming from his own house.

The door suddenly swung open and Eli looked for his father, but Sam was ushered onto the porch instead and he knew what that meant, which confirmation soon came by muffled yelling coming from his house. His sister was in a red-down jumpsuit that reminded him of an elf's uniform and stood motionless as if waiting for a signal from Eli.

As if drawing a breath with his eyes, Eli simotaneously took in his garden, his house, the stagnant sky and the white that held everything in place, and the tears that were forming in Sam's eyes. He then turned and began to run. The impulse carried him and he didn't know why, but just that he had to go. He ran out towards the pale landscape, making his way down a hill into a ravine and continuing up the other side. He stopped to look at his property and was surprised at how far he got, so fast. He could faintly see the red dot that marked his sister on the porch, and he turned and continued to run.

Eli stopped and pulled the seed from his pocket and looked at it with wistful eyes and thought, "if only you would grow, I know I would win." He held the seed tight and continued to run, imagining himself on a stage in front of countless people, receiving a trophy for his record-breaking corn, which made him smile.

The image was suddenly lost to the sound of cracking ice and the feeling of falling. Eli was chest hight in icy water and confused, but suddenly realized where he was in his landscape. The sudden image of the swimming hole he would enjoy during the warm days of Summer flashed before him.

As he tried to grip the side of the icey ring and pull himself up, the weight of his clothes drew him back into the circle. Freezing, Eli cried out, but didn't recognize the weakened voice he heard as his own. His limbs quickly grew numb and he held himself motionless by the side of the hole and didn't feel cold anymore. He fought to keep his head above the water, but lost to the pull and slowly sank below the surface.

The sun's rays breaking through the opening in the ice made the water glitter like a kaleidoscope, and in spirals and falling images Eli was carried away.

His father followed his tracks through the snow and when he got to the ice and saw the hole, screamed for Eli. He fell to the snow and gripped at it, perceiving what had happened. As he turned to get help, he noticed something resting on the edge of the ice and picked it up, and instantly knew where it came from.

When the days finally warmed and any hint of the bitter season had passed, Eli's father raked the soil of his son's garden and pulled from his pocket the seed that Eli had taken from his garden.

It grew to over ten-feet high and nearly reached the clouds.

Whispering eyes of azure and light,

radiantly sparkles in diamond white,

soft smiles dance and the fondle air,

hearts burn within, hidden from sight.

Secret desires flow and return,

amorously ignite, rage and burn,

an angel's spirit breathes in the air,

a heart gives in, is slowly ensnared.

Passion flows in soft-tender stabs,

entangling minds, as energy collides,

tearing inside without a caress,

unable to move, it surrenders and dies.

The Adventures of Stingray and Chopper

Many years ago my next door neighbor and I, both ten, went on a great bicycle adventure. By today's standards it probably wouldn't seem that incredible, however, combined with our ages and the fact that we didn't have fancy bikes or equipment, it was nothing to be scoffed at. Our mode of transport consisted of one Schwinn Stingray with a banana style seat, and one modified model of a similar style, with the added feature of having the forks greatly extended for aesthetics, which offered little in the way of practical purpose. I rode the former, my friend the latter.

The plan - which was surely made up on a whim with no real consideration for the distance to be traveled or quality of equipment - was put into place one day with little fanfare and nothing in the way of granted permission from the higher-ups, aka, our parents.

Our trip would take us from Canoga Park to Santa Monic via Topanga Canyon and was approximately 25 miles one way. On level ground that is fine, however, at one point Topanga Canyon gets extremely steep and once the incline is breached, proceeds to descend sharply towards the Ocean. It only has two narrow lanes and is definitely not for the squeamish, especially when cars go whipping past you at sixty mph. I cannot recall bringing water, food, or for that matter any money to buy some if we wanted; we were essentially, just two young boys with only our bikes and our will.

Luckily we made it through the canyon and along Pacific Coast Highway to my father's place, who going to visit was the primary motivation for the adventure for me at least. He was living in a small beach apartment at the time. After the initial shock and surprise at seeing his young son so far from home with his friend and our bikes, he quickly decided there was no way he could allow us to make the return trip and drove us home. He spoke of it for years afterwards.

I have made the same ride as an adult, with perhaps just a bit more emphasis on equipment and a greater forethought into the level of my fitness, but it has never been the same. The ride of my youth was the last great adventure before crossing into a place where everything is planned and ideas thought through; a place where you go when you are no longer a pirate on a ship, but merely a boy standing in a tree house. It was a simpler time - a time to just live in the moment and not worry if something would work or not; a time to do now and think later.

We didn't need a lot then, with little more than a Stingray and a Chopper, we rode off to adventure.

On Love

How to find true love and stay involved in a healthy relationship is one of life's lessons that would be invaluable to know from an early age, but unfortunately is one we are left to figure it out on our own. The fundamentals are not difficult to grasp, and while they don't remove the need for trial, the information can definitely help to cut down on the broken hearts. A lot of the reasons relationships go sour ties to the fact that many people don't know the true meaning of love.

If you ask someone how they define love, most of the time they will look at you with a funny expression and say something like "do you mean romantic love?" Love is essentially love no matter how you define it and the best definition I have ever heard is: "it is the will to extend oneself for the purpose of helping another to grow emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually." But so often that simple definition is not understood and people can expect more from love than they are willing to give.

Beyond not having a clear understanding on how to love, some people go from relationship to relationship as if they cannot function unless they are involved with someone at all times. However, it is so important to take time out for yourself and work on the areas that need improving, which would just make you more prepared for the next "true" love opportunity that will eventually come along. When we invest in ourselves and truly feel good about who we are as people, certain unwritten laws of attraction take effect and quality people will magically find us. It all starts with loving ourselves first and understanding this truth is fundamental to having healthy and loving relationships.

Once we find that certain someone, the key to keeping the relationship on track is communication and the willingness to love unconditionally. One must also be happy with oneself and again, the importance of this cannot be overstated. It is easy to imagine that a relationship will automatically make one happy and everything will magically take care of itself. But the truth is, that fulfilling relationships need continuous input and as we change as people, so must the relationship continue to grow with both people committing to it and giving to it.

It is easy to be attracted to someone for the wrong reasons and get caught up in the physical aspect of the person, rather than learning of their true essence. If you ask anyone who has been involved in a long-lasting relationship or marriage, the first thing they usually will say is that being best friends is key. Everything builds off friendship and when this ingredient is present, anything is possible and most likely will come to be. There obviously must be an attraction, but attraction can take many forms that transcend the physical.

It's also important to define what we want out of the relationship and establish it early on, because often people who seem like they would be a good match have different expectations.

As humans we are made to love, and in the end that is all that really matters.

Is there a God?

This eternal question may be the most intriguing of all. Not so much for the possible answers which are readily available if one simply feels, but more for the varied responses that one gets including those derived from the most foolish of beliefs, to those that just flat-out deny any possibility at all. Did man invent God or did God invent man?

Man most certainly invented religion, which various forms are all valid and offer different pathways to connect to the One source. And man most certainly attempted at various times in history to embody in other men or animals God-like attributes; a practice that altogether seems foolish. However, in the end, the One true power that sparked into creation other universes like our own as well as other planets like our own - which are most likely peopled with other evolved creations whose sole design is perfection - stands alone as the One power. Some would suggest that earthly existence is all just a big accident - the position held by most scientists as well as other academics who must be able to touch, feel, and measure a thing for it to exist. They do not seem to grasp the limiting and foolish stance they keep and ironically treat others who choose to display a belief, as being the foolish ones.

Perhaps in the end, it will come down to those who hold a conviction of something greater than what can be found within the confines of our earthly domain, will merge with that One power and exist on another level throughout eternity. And conversely, for those who refuse to believe in the possibility of something greater, will only come to know only the expected darkness that they conceive as the only possibility and will cease to exist on any level.

It seems as humans we are limited and can never have a complete understanding, and to know the ultimate truth is something we can only speculate at before that occurs. However, the person who says that they are not sure and leaves themselves open to the possibility of something greater, seems to be of a more intelligent nature than the steadfast ones who just simply deny it all.

To find answers to the great questions in life, often the easiest way is to just let go and feel for the answer. The steady stream of energy that ties everything together - both past, present, and future - contains within it the countless truths of all time which is always ready to speak volumes to us; the hard part is shutting out the noise and learning to listen.