I’d do it all again

Midnight red high heels led to thin marble ankles. Her vanilla yellow skirt, like drapes; covering everything else I could see.

The blood pooled in my lungs, the slug from the Walther p38 had moved on with its final destination in mind.

Ingret laid her pretty blonde bombshell down beside my immovable face, my spirit fought to hold on to its last moments; even being of betrayal and wrath.

I lay dying, but the purple outline of her soulless eyes showed my abuse had robbed her of life ages ago.

I’d do it all over again just to see those eyes.

Tales of the Nightingale

Nebulas Distress

Chapter 2

The crew assembled on the bridge; The Nightingale was about to exit slipstream, and everybody was at general quarters.

Kassy, in charge of engineering, regulated everything related to the ship’s systems from a terminal that had a rat’s nest of cables connected to it, giving her access to multiple systems that would otherwise have to be accessed elsewhere.

Doc monitored the Nightingales communications systems.

Cal sat in the Calypso, a short-range moon hopper jerry-rigged with mines and anti-ship missiles, Cal was suited up in the off chance he needed to board an enemy ship or his own lost atmosphere.

Captain Key and Cora stood in between Doc and Kassy on the bridge. Cora wasn’t just an onboard computer with bells and whistles. Cora was the living consciousness of the Nightingale; she was feeling everything the ship was feeling, seeing everything the Nightingale was seeing. Cora was just as capable of moving and operating the ship while simultaneously operating any number of other functions just as any human would be with their body.
Still, for Kassy it was unnerving at times to watch Cora in action.

Cora never turned from the Giant HUD, “Captain, a Distress beacon has been located in a class four nebula. It looks to be automated and on a loop. From this distance, I cannot determine anything else of note.”

The same tech that gave Cora the run of the ship also turned the nose of the ship and the bridge into a virtual transparency of the verse they flew through. It literally looked like you walk off the ship into the vastness of space.
Deacceleration engine burns still put the ship twelve hours out from their destination, but the crew had learned a long time ago to be ready for anything when slipping into a new system.

Captain Key wouldn’t admit it, but he lived for these moments; entering a new system always was filled with the unknown, and whether it was terrifying or spectacular or both, he loved it all the same. Captain Key took it all in with a deep inhalation before he looked to Doc, “Doc. anything?”

Doc looked away from the screen to respond, “Something is blocking our sensors at specific points within the system.”

Captain squinted in question, “something?”

Cora interrupted, “isolating the disturbance.”

Doc reinserted himself, “The nebula, and a few pockets of ionized space, ranging from 30 meters in diameter to planetoid in size.”

Cora looked at Captain Keys with a child’s glee, “I think I know what is causing the disturbance in the nebula.”

Captain Key looked to Cora which was all the prodding she needed. “A singularity is in process of creation. It has created ribbons of compressed time in the radio frequency bands, though has not yet reached critical mass. This could explain why there is so much interference.”

Doc shook his head in disagreement, “This appears more artificial.”

Cora retorted, “I believe that it is the distress signal folded over itself, because of the frequency compression caused by the time dilation.”

Captain Key remained anchored were he stood with his hands behind his back folded over themselves, but he turned his head before addressing Kassy, “Kassy?”

Kassy responded without ever taking her attention of the readings that created an eerie glow on her face as she answered, “Doesn’t look like the nebula has created any distortions that could harm the Nightingale, but I wouldn’t stick around this sector for longer than we have to. I am getting odd readings from the slipstream.”

Captain Key turned his entire upper body, “Theories?”

Kassy shrugged her shoulders, “I fix things, but if I had to guess I would say that this nebula is about to connect to neighboring star systems via Slip Stream. We don’t want to be here after that happens.”

Captain Key looked troubled, “My spatial slip theory is a little rusty but I thought slipstream was another dimension altogether separate from our own. We just used it to travel FTL.”

Cora and Kassy both excitedly, “No.” “Cora, show him why.”

Cora transformed the front of the bridge into a diagram of connecting lines that branched off like the roots and branches of a tree, “These are the superhighways we call slipstream. They are energetic connections between stars. Some travel between galaxies and even some between different verses. When a star is born, there is an explosion in slipstream surrounding the immediate space around the new star. It allows the star to make those connections in the slipstream, but immediately after this explosion, there is no way to connect to slipstream.”

Captain Key nodded, “Meaning we would be stuck humping out of deep space.”

Doc chimed in with ominous finality, “There is nothing for twenty light years in any direction, not even a planet. This space is a cosmic desert.”

Captain Key looked to Cora, “Cora, can you speed up our approach?”

Cora’s head tilted unnaturally, “Calculating. If we skip the last two burns and do an evasive burn 3 AU from our projected stop point we would cut 9 hours off our arrival time…theoretically.”

Captain Key, “theoretically?”

Cora continued, “The inertia dampening technology wasn’t designed to operate under such stress, and the Nightingale may have suffered structural damage from micrometeor impacts we suffered earlier.”

Captain Key exhaled through his mouth in a pressured release and nodded, “Cora prepare the Nightingale for a hard burn. Doc, I want you to suit up and join Cal, you two are going to launch once we are in range. You will retrieve the package while Cal provides overwatch.”

Doc nodded, “Yes Captain.” Doc unbuckled the five-point harness and exited the bridge without another word.

Cora turned with genuine concern on her face, “Are you getting your feelings again? I am detecting no activity in the range of our sensors.”

Captain Key looked hauntingly at Cora, but addressed Kassy, “Kassy, get a clock ready, and prepare for a manual slipstream jump.” Then Captain Key addressed Cora under his breath, “That doesn’t mean that there isn’t somebody here.”

Kassy quipped, “Aye Captain” and then flipped open a box that contained a black ore hand mold. Kassy placed her hand in the mold. The mold perfectly fit Kassy’s hand, lighting up, incrementally as it scanned her hand. The floor opened up in front of Captain Key, an old earth sea vessel ship wheel emerged. As the wheel rose a helmet connected with hundreds of fiber optic cables attached to it, lowered from the ceiling.

Cora turned to face Captain Key, her eye’s wide and distant, a look that she would have when her considerable processing capability was stressed, “Captain the burn is ready on your command. Captain, do you believe that I may be comprised?”

Captain Key said, “What? No! I just don’t like not being able to see what could be a whole damn planet, space station, space monster, and whatever hell else that could hide there. Especially with energies bordering on star level. I want to be ready to leave by any means available and that means melding for slipstream.”

Cora became completely present and looked Captain Key right in his eyes, “You have to consider the possibility you may not be equipped to handle a melding. It is designed for sixth density beings and higher.”

Captain Key, “It’s worth the risk.”

Cora increased power to her emitters and grabbed Captain Key’s forearm, something Captain Key didn’t know she was capable of doing, “It wasn’t designed for you”, capping the statement by nodding at Kassy.

The reverie was broken when Kassy strapped back into her harness, “Captain, I have all major system wired to my terminal; if we need to we can dead stick through a slipstream event.”

Captain Key, answered by recoiling, “Cora, Initiate the burn sequence.” He then buckled himself in.

The Nightingale slid through space, at speeds that defied the human imagination. The first burn turned everything they were, light, and reconstituted it all as matter as the deacceleration process began. The nightingale hummed when it was moving at the edge of FTL. It was like being in the eye of a hurricane, calm serene, yet every atom was popping with electricity until it all took its place in a dance of a slower, denser tempo.

Cora, tilted her head, Captain I am detecting an energy signature in the nearest pocket of interference. two vessels have just been detected exiting what appears to be a dimensional event horizon. They are on an intercept course. Contact in seven minutes. I am receiving a communique, I believe the source is the planet-sized interference.”

Captain Key put the helmet on, while standing up in the middle of the bridge. A flurry of tentacle-like protrusions came out of the back of the helmet and attached at key locations along his spine. The helmet covered his eyes with a holo-shield, designed to work in concert with his visual receptors, while simultaneously blocking Captain Key from seeing anything but what was being sent from the Nightingale. They were one. Cora, Key, and the ship were one.

Nicholas Key saw Cora’s entire being all at once and not at all. She was many life’s, many deaths. So much.

Captain Key whispered, “Cora, your. beautiful.”

The captain said, rather distractedly, “Kassy, keep everything running from your end, I’ll deal with our new friends.”

Captain key then grabbed the wheel, “Cora open a channel, all waves.

Cora answered, “Channel open.”

Captain Key, “Approaching Vessels: disengage from your current course. Your actions are viewed as hostile and will be met with extreme prejudice, please respond if you don’t want to die.”

Cora and the Nightingale were joined with Captian Keys in a unified consciousness. The ship responded to thought. Cora and Captain Key could talk without speaking. In fact, that is exactly what Cora was doing.

Cora, “They are not changing course and no response could be detected.”

The white noise of an open channel filling the silence was felt by everybody, the counting seconds that ticking away in Captain Key’s skull. “What to do? What to do?”

The channel filled the heads of the entire crew with a chorus of million screams, followed by a collective shrill, “Bicorporal beings, Bring your artificial skin to a halt. Prepare to be boarded. Prepare to Surrender your light.”

Captain Key didn’t like the sound of that, “Cora, what kind of armament do they have?”

Cora responded, “Our sensors can’t penetrate their hull.”


Captain Key, “What if they aren’t ships at all?”

Kassy yelled over the now violently rattling ship, “No life signs detected!”

Captain Key didn’t like being on the defensive and he would rather take his fate into his own hands, so he ordered Cora, “Plot an intercept without the second burn.”

Cora, “Yes Captain.”

The Cockpit that Cal and Doc were sitting in was a side-by-side fighter set up. It could be run by one person or you could pair the co-pilot with weapons and navigation, allowing the pilot to focus solely on flying.

Captain Key’s voice suddenly filled both men’s suit’s, “prepare for a near FTL departure gentleman. Cal…Doc… You might be on your own, and you might have company. Get to the transponder location and search for survivors. The alien artifact is an ancient builder relic. The relic is an orb approximately half a meter in diameter. The relic first, then survivors. Copy?”

Both men, “Copy.”

Both men, shaken by the erie communique, suddenly became businesslike,

Doc spoke first, “I will start with the mines, best to keep a measured response. Let us allow for peace, at least.”

Cal looked at Doc like he was crazy, “Them things are coming at us like bullets from a gun and you want to worry about peace? Doc, I don’t tell you how to patch people up, don’t tell me how to regulate some hate…But we are gonna start with the mines, on account they’re chasin.”

Doc smiled, “Wise choice.”

The cockpit filled with a red light as the bay doors opened underneath them, Cal disengaged the docking clamps leaving the Calypso in hover mode, ready to peel off from the Nightingale.

Captain Key was already three steps ahead of what Cal was about to undertake, using the nebula to mask his turn, slowing him enough to allow capture of the Calypso, and giving the Nightingale the best chance of getting to slipstream. It was the only way he could get the cargo, and avoid tangling with space demons.

Captain Key filled the men’s headsets once more, “I need the Calypso at these coordinates in approximately one hour after peel off. Men, if you miss the window I may have to leave you. If that happens, use the nebula to hide from our new friends here.”


Cal got on the channel, “You don’t leave us. I ain’t giving them my light!” Cal looked at Doc and mumbled, “Whatever the hell that means.”

Captain Key responded, “Make the rendezvous and you won’t get left.”

Cal looked at Doc knowingly. They both knew that the captain meant every word, but they also knew that if they were at the rendezvous within the window that they wouldn’t get left behind. It was a trust built with similar experiences to this one.

Captain Key filled the air once more, “Happy hunting Gentlemen…Calypso, you are green for peel off.”

Cal pulled the chewing gum that he always had in his mouth out, and put it on an old earth relic called a license plate that hung next to an old hulu-skirt bobblehead. He replaced the gum with a mouth guard, ever since he almost bit off his own tongue, Cals errored on the side of caution.
Cal responded, “Copy that Nightingale. Peel off in 3…2…1.”

The Nightingale looked like a comet to the naked eye, and if they were looking up at that exact moment they would have seen much smaller comet peel off before disappearing altogether.

The black translucent shards were invisible to the naked eye, they devoured all light. Doc knew them as light eaters. Ghost stories he was told as a child, or so Doc thought. Every time the stakes were high, Doc would remember the promise made. He remembered the sacrifice that Captain Key and Kassy made for his family. He remembered Hope, and the ultimate sacrifice she made to save them all. It was all the encouragement he needed. His life and that of his family was owed to Captain Key, and he would honor it in death, if necessary.

Cal broke Doc’s frightful resolution, “I am detecting a ship. It matches the Elizabeth’s signature. It’s intact. No atmosphere.”

Cal could feel the gravity well of the approaching craft, it felt like a predator nipping at their heels, “Doc we have a visitor. One of the shards peeled off with us, and it’s hungry.”

Cal flew by feel, He didn’t need fancy computers to tell him when the calypso was going to rip apart at the seams, he knew, and now Cal pushed the ship all the way to the breaking point, and then some; as they deaccelerated, the G’s were incredible. Cal began to see black crowd his vision until he could only read his console through the pinpricks of consciousness. His hands felt like sausages with ice needles in spewing out the tips. Cal put the Calypso in a Corkscrew, simultaneously diving off from the Nightingale, causing the shard to overshoot, and instead of changing course and losing inertia, it continued after the Nightingale disappearing into the nebula’s ionized gas clouds.

Doc shouted, “firing missiles.”

Cal interrupted, “Don’t. You might hit the Tin Can.”

Doc looked out and whispered, “May the One be served.”

The Train of Self-Will

The Guide at the Final Stop

               Why is stupid money so alluring? Is it the idea of freedom; being able to do what I want when I want, on my terms? Every time I get what I think I want, I end up reeling from the results. I end up spending more time cleaning up the mess created by my schemes of grandeur, then enjoying any fruit from such endeavors.

               It isn’t until the pain of my self-serving wreckage, comes knocking at my door, do I even realize that I was acting in a solely self-serving manner. It’s like that train of unconsciousness builds up speed, and you don’t wake up until you pass a train station you were sure was on your itinerary of desire.

               That train just keeps on rolling and no, “excuse me sir, that was my stop you passed.” is going to stop it from rolling by the next and the next. The conductor is just tending the engine. The tracks were laid out by you, at least at first. Self-will has a mind of its own, and it isn’t yours; I know that sounds counter intuitive, but that’s why it kills so many of us.

               Self-will is will without grace. You are not. This Will wants what it wants, regardless of your joy, and is powered by your guilt, and the tracks are laid by your wrath. I was lucky enough this last time to jump off that train before it gained too much momentum or speed, and waiting for me, without fail, was my guide.

               This guide was always there, it just isn’t willing to get on that train. He is willing to wait though; wait until I was willing to turn and look at that train to see that those tracks go right off a cliff. I think the only difference for people is when they get on that train, and how much track is left before they go careening into the canyon.

               In the end, though, we are not in it alone. If just a single one of us is left on that train, we all have to come back, to wait for him or her to realize that the guide waiting at the station is the one that will lead us home. Otherwise, it is a self-serving endeavor and not a selfless one.

               Would you really want to go home a few short? Could you leave the house with three billion of your brothers and sisters; an innocent trip to the convenience store, and then come back two siblings short, and not expect your parents to send you back for the ones you left behind?

               It’s all or none, and mom and dad are willing to wait until we bring everybody back. It’s a good thing our guide, an elder brother, is in charge. Elsewise some of us would be here and there; Have you ever tried to herd cats? When enough of us have noticed our guide, the others will see that they haven’t noticed theirs.

Couples with Chemistry Make Better Long-Term Sitters

Couples work better, when they work together. You’re going to have to make that call when choosing your sitter-couple. If they trip over each other, or they micro-manage and nip at each other, then you need to keep looking.

               During the interview process, don’t give them bad marks for interrupting each other, but pay attention to the vibes between them when those interruptions occur. Are they building off each other after the interruption, or are they attempting to have two separate conversations? Are they responding as a team or are they competing to respond?

               There is an energy between couples that rev’s like an engine when they are in sync, and stalls out when they are at odds; they either cancel each other out, or worse, the energy becomes hostile or explosive.

               Our pets can feel that energy, and you want them surrounded by a harmonious couple. If you’re in a turbulent relationship yourself, then you maybe gauge the sitters by asking yourself do I want what they have, regarding their chemistry? If the answer is no, then keep looking. There are numerous couples out there doing the pet sitting thing, so it’s a choosers market.

Us during a pet sitter interview

               We use TrustedHousesitters: the sitters there are free, when it comes to out of pocket expenses. All you do is continue to pay your bills while they stay in your house and love on your Furbabies. Sometimes there are agreements made on the side, like stipends for food and basic necessities, but that is done on a case-by-case basis and is independent of the website.

               Couples in general make better long-term sitters; doing the same thing day in and day out can slowly become joyless for the solitary sitter, but when you have another person to alternate the daily responsibilities it makes each day new and fresh. Except that’s not the whole of it, there are the chemistries of the Furbabies to consider as well.

               You see the animals, cats in this case, usually pick who their favorites are, and while it may have somewhat to do with who feeds them, or cleans the litter boxes, it usually has more to do with what roles we fulfill within their social structure.

               Momo for instance, has come to expect me to be his hunting trainer, and exclusively asks me to run him through the motions with the Jangle-on-a-stick. Melissa has tried, but about three minutes in, Momo looks up at her with disapproval before he walks away. On the other hand, if Momo wants to cuddle, knead his blankie against softness, or be comforted after he was just sprayed for getting in the plants, he goes to Melissa.               

Momo after his play session

If there was just one sitter, the cats in this case, would still have the same needs; being adaptable, they would make do, but making do isn’t what we’re striving for. We want the best.

The Furbabies of the Blue Ridge Mountains

A Reflection of Our First Sit

               The morning usually begins with a scratching at the bedroom door. I can usually tell who is scratching, and by the type of scratch, what is needed and by whom. This process was learned over the days and weeks of the sit, and was in sense, a form of language that developed over time.

               At first the scratches were a list of demands; as if to say, “This is how it is humans. Your behavior needs to change or life cannot go on.” These scratches were loud, deep, and long; usually a combination of two of the three Furbabies.

Momo

               Momo, the youngest of the trio, is by far the most inquisitive and intelligent. Being raised by a conglomerate of cats and dogs, he had the advantage of a multicultural upbringing. He is the philosopher and great thinker of the group. Always questioning the how and why of things. He would look down into the toilet as it flushes, and tilt is head as if to question, “Where does this water go, and how does it come back?”

               Momo demands at least three play sessions where he plays fetch with his jangle-on-a-stick. If you do not play with him, he will proceed to pick up the jangle-on-a-stick by the stick end, and then attack the jangle end like a child playing pretend. I was honored to watch him discover just how the stick animated the jangle. His inquisitiveness and higher than average intelligence has made me question the origin of kitties altogether.

               Momo spends the rest of his time practicing martial arts with his elder brother Puffin, and thoroughly terrorizing his older sister, who barely tolerates him with disdainful hisses. Ending his day with Zen like reflection.

Puffin deciding my fate

               Momo’s brother, Puffin, is a creature of simpler pleasures; he has thoroughly fallen in love with my wife. Sometimes I catch him touching her with intimacy, while looking at me with murderous intent. I return the gaze with a smirk, and somehow he manages to look away with hubris, giving him the win regarding our non-verbal exchange. When Melissa ceases her petting, he puts a paw on her chest, reminding her that it is he that decides when the loving stops. Puffin loves pizza like Garfield loves lasagna. If we have it, we must share, or he protests with almost sad retort.

Wicket being cute, a truly rare site

               Wicket, the only female of the group, while only being two years old, has the feel of a brittle old lady. She has made it clear that she hates men, no matter the species. In the six weeks that I have been here I can count on one hand the times that she has let me pet her. She has one need, food. When it isn’t met in a time that wicket finds acceptable, she protests with vigor and volume to Melissa. I am looked at from afar with curiosity, but I am not worthy of communion.

               The three Furbabies of the Blue Ridge Mountains have accepted us, in one form or another, and we have become a pride of sorts. Momo has claimed me has his, Puffin has claimed Melissa, and Wicket has been kind enough to allow us to share space. It will be hard to say goodbye when our time is up at this sit, but I have learned so much from them. Momo has taught me courage, Puffin has taught me confidence, and Wicket has taught me acceptance.

Turning Away From Division

The Final Solution to Politics

What a mind job. How is turning away from division a solution to our political woes, when politics very function seems to be the division of its people? The question is an answer in and of itself.

               Politics divide us as a people, as a culture, as a very means of decision making within this nation! So how then do we turn away from it, without abandoning it all together? The answer: You don’t, you can’t, its impossible. The answer is unacceptable, right? I don’t think so, especially when you step back from it all and look at the trajectory of all nations of the world as a whole, and the behavior of our so-called leaders.

               It is obvious to this observer that the leaders of any nation, not just the U.S., are solely self-serving. The checks and balances of the United States Government was supposed to keep those that lead in check, but when the corruption so completely saturates a governing body that no group within that body is untouched by said corruption, then it doesn’t matter what checks and balances you put in its path. The corruption simply manipulates the checks and balances to get what it wants, no matter who or how power is balanced.

               What is this corruption? The Fed? Corporations? Secret cults? Non-terrestrials? I don’tknow, but with the exception of the last option, I am of the persuasion that it is all of the above, and as far as the last one goes, I can’t prove it, but I am going to go out on a limb and say that the first three have most likely been manipulated by the last, since before World War II.

               This system called governance has brought the cream of the crop of all those that crave power to the forefront of our awareness. Any who craves power to this magnitude must be starved of any true semblance of real power. Why else would they be willing to sell out so completely to attain it? Almost from the moment a politician comes to power, he is pandering to anyone who has the money to fund his sustainment in that power structure. We already know that a small percentage of people have the largest percentage of wealth. So, who does that politician represent, truly? You? Me? No, I think not.

               We really don’t have the means to redistribute wealth, without abandoning its current form and definition, so does it not make sense then to abandon the system that led us down this rotten path as well as individuals that claim homage and fealty to it?

               If we all are of the same mind, when it comes to the understanding that this system attracts the wrong type of ethos, leaders, and concepts of governance, then it should not be difficult, as a Nation, to abandon it all together. We don’t need this type of governance. We need governance at the soul level. We need governance when it comes to how we want our minds ordered. We need our finger on the pulse of the soul; are we moving towards true happiness? If you are of the non-religious persuasion then look at it from the stand point of, “are we truly happy as a collective or community?” Your Religious or Spiritual persuasion aside, the answer is old fashion follow your heart, do what feels right.

               Our current governments would rather send their people into needless war to cull the population for the sole purpose of maintaining control. They poison our food, just to improve the bottom line financially, and they destroy any and all who threaten their control structure. I am tired of letting tyrants and sociopaths’ rule without so much as a shrug of our collective shoulders. We have been deterred by the belief that someone within the system would save us or the system itself would auto-correct. It hasn’t auto-corrected, and nobody is going to save us, because sociopaths don’t work like that.

               We must do what this governing system is so hell bent against us doing. We must unite under the common flag of peace and unity. We must route the system in place and we must do so in the spirit of peace, so we don’t lose sight of what we are attempting to achieve.

               Let us unite under this common understanding and not let the powers that be tear us apart and beset us against each other. It’s their one and only play, and its past time it stopped working.

HOW I GOT THERE

Trudging that Happy Road of Destiny 

               Pet sitting and house sitting is more a sabbatical then a career. Assuming of course that you can scrounge up enough money monthly to meet your minimal needs. You know, like food, insurance, gas for the car, and whatever hellish bills you’ve racked up over the years. If you can cover that, you could essentially never leave the home you sit at unless you were headed to market for the essentials.

               The animals come first of course, they are the reason you have a roof over your head, let’s not forget about hot water, electricity, and whatever other energy you use day to day. The price for peace of mind. Imagine if you didn’t have to pay for your home in any way; what little you would need in terms of resources, whether you look at it in a financial sense, or just plain stuff, it still changes how you see the bottom line.

               Now imagine if you could line up paying pet gigs around the neighborhood that you were house/pet sitting at? All of sudden you have a traveling pet sitting system that pays for home and hearth as well as a little pocket money so you don’t go without what you need.

               You’re always filling a need, providing a service, and if you know where to look and how to present yourself, the possibilities are endless. I’m not here to tell how and where, but maybe your somebody like me who was tired of the nine-to-five grind, who was constantly being told to get a job, and hold on to it.

               I did that when I had to, but when my disability check came in the mail for the first time, I left that 9 to 5 grind. I didn’t have a plan, all I knew was that life was too short to be a lemming. I was unhappy, and had been unhappy for a long time, and I just couldn’t tolerate another second of doing the same shit anymore.

               I was still in a bind; That check only amounted to about a third of what I needed to break even, monthly. So, I went back to school, because my then girlfriend, now wife, told me that the government would pay me to go to school! She was right; with the G.I. bill and the Pell grant combined we had more money than we knew what to do with.

               I didn’t know just how good I had it until two and half degrees later. The money dried up and so did the stalling. The job market was calling, and I was stuck facing that 9-to-5 outcome once more. I would rather be homeless.

               My wife landed this big director position of a non-profit, so we moved two hours south and I worked hard at not working. Don’t get me wrong, I was still of service being the best house-husband. I cooked, cleaned and did whatever I could to justify my lack of income. My wife was gracious enough to remark that I still brought income in with the disability check, but deep down it just didn’t feel right.

               My wife became incredibly depressed at this new job, but was honor bound to stick it out until her contract was up. So, I had to watch her trudge through the muck of being forced to be that very same lemming that I refused to become. I watched as it ate her very soul, and still I didn’t budge. I couldn’t, I knew it would mean death for me, as much as it seemed for her. I told her to quit so many times, but she stuck it out, until her contract was up. It was then that our life changed forever.

               We headed to Denver because the city was green with opportunity. I told myself no matter what, I was going to get a job. I knew if I didn’t my partner wasn’t going to make it. There were plenty of jobs, and all of them spelled misery for me, at least that is how it felt in my heart. I asked my wife in desperation, “Isn’t there a way that we can work together? We spend every waking moment with each other and we love it.” She was as desperate for another way as I was, and it just so happened a coworker from her previous job had told her about this website called WorkingCouples.com.

               It led us to a house/pet sitting gig. We have since made it a way of life; traveling the country living in other people’s homes, loving other people’s pets, being filled with self-worth getting to be of service to others. I get paid in ways I didn’t even know I knew were possible.

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone. We find it with another” — Thomas Merton

One Step Further

drean

image copied from BoardGameGeek.com

Let’s take this idea of dream exchange and use it to metamorphosize those who’s dreams that dip into the realm of nightmares by lifting them up into something lighter. If you come to the conclusion that our lives are in fact a dream, then it won’t take long to realize that we, and our dreams are all interconnected. It would behoove us to lift those stuck in a nightmare into a space where peace is possible.

A certain level of willingness is necessary of the individual within his or her nightmare. He or she must be willing to let go what is causing this intense suffering, but when that they do come to this willingness should we not be there with an open hand ready to catapult them into a space conducive for peace and healing?

For most, this process has been arduous and slow going, mainly because of our unacceptance that this is in fact, a dream. When that fact is accepted, the speed and fluidity of change is resisted less, allowing the rapid change to be more accepted.

This requires something we all must lack in this day in age, and that is trust. Trust that those we turn our dreams over to won’t burn them down at first chance, or hurt our loved ones. I don’t approach this idea lightly, in fact I tip toe towards it, in hopes that you won’t run screaming, “Lunacy!”

We can apply the principle of gain with the idea of trust. If we give complete trust, then those that accept it will be more likely to accept and thus cherish what is given. The dream given, being cherished will not fade, or fall into nightmarish qualities. Peace of mind can be maintained by the giver, and peace of mind can be attained by the receiver through the process and principle of gain.

People who are hurt and wounded mentally, physically, and yes spiritually, need a new way, and it’s obvious their cup is lacking. They can’t pour from an empty cup. These people need those folks that can pour from their own vessel. These people need from those that have already walked through the dark night and came back to tell the tale.

We need to take our power back. The idea that state institutions can be or should be relied upon is starkly apparent to this observer to be a rash and irresponsible notion. To be brief, the state is in bed with special interest, or is completely self-serving. These entities are more interested in keeping us, as a whole, embedded within our individual dreams and nightmares.

This control structure would keep us separated and weak, if allowed to continue on its current trajectory. The only responsible course is to take our fates into our own hands, with love and unyielding perseverance.

The only way I see forward is a form of charity supported by an independent resource (rooted in community) that is neither backed financially or relied upon through any other device, legal or otherwise, to or by a corporate, State, or Federal institution(s).

This charity will be both helpful to those that are giving of their dreams, and those that are needing of a new dream. It will be an opportunity to give back what was so graciously given, and in the end to keep; for what is freely given, will be freely accepted and returned. The cycle of gain will serve the giver and gifted, enormously.

 

“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” –Edgar Allen Poe

The Shared Dream

A New Way of Looking at an Old Idea

me 2

 

I don’t know about you, but I have felt lost for for a long while. The old paradigm of  growing up, going to school, working for twenty to thirty years and then retiring on some nice lake property has become all but impossible, but for a few.

Both my parents have done well for themselves and if you asked them they would tell you they worked their asses off to get there. I don’t know why I had such a problem with that philosophy, but I did. I thought I was lazy, and truth be told, for many years I was. In the end though you have to make your own way, lazy or not. 

What if I told you there was a way to have that lake property now. You do have to work for it, but not in the way you locked your mind into thinking. There is a shift happening; a generation that worked themselves to the bone for their dreams, and a generation that refused to waste what precious time they have doing so, yet terribly unhappy with what can be seen ahead. 

I am here to tell you that if you are willing to serve each other we can find that happy place once again. What most people are finding is that they would rather travel, but have responsibilities that keep them home bound; pets, old and young family that needs looking after, or just plain worries that are no where but in their mind.

There is a whole movement of lost souls out there just looking for a way to live that isn’t like the way of our predecessors. It’s like we feel we don’t have same time or freedoms that our parents and grandparents had. A lot of us out there don’t believe honest hard work is worth the dollar it gets these days, and maybe they’re right, but maybe it’s because more and more people are willing to undercut their fellow man, cheapening the value of the honest dollar.

How do we live in a such a volatile environment? We start by hiring people we can see, touch and commune with. We need to work together. Going for it alone with so many unaccounted, as a collective we can not afford such ignorant profligacy. 

My Wife and Myself house and pet sit. They don’t pay us a dime, we simply live in there home, take care of their Furbabies and care for their property, while they do whatever they do. When they come back we give their home back to them and we move on to the next home.

We love traveling and so in a sense, we exchange dreams. They do our travel dream for awhile, and we do their house on a lake dream. In the end we both surrender what is taken and peace and prosperity are restored. 

This exchange is a service; It is based on the principle of gain, and it goes something like this, “We get to keep what we have, by giving it away.” Now some of you out there are going to recognize immediately that this principle is used elsewhere. Good for you. You then already see it’s value. 

 I am simply expanding this principle to all areas of my life.  What you give you get. It’s that simple, Give it all to get it all. Lets give all of what we have to each other while we still have the freedom and ability to do so.

“We can serve the world if we serve each other.” — The Traveling Philosopher

 

“The meaning of Life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.” — Pablo Picasso