Daily Routines

 Human beings are creatures of habit.  We do things in set orders and timings so we can express a simulated control over our own personal environments.  In this way we can exercise a comfortable repour with our own surroundings and personal space.  We pretend to be the masters of our homes and the Kings of our own little countries, or depending on your personality, the gods of our own personal worlds.   

I exercise my own daily routines.  I usually wake early every morning and do the zombie stroll to the counter in my kitchen where sits a holy shrine at which I pay homage to the Coffee Gods.  My zombie self waits as the shrine gurgles and burps and wafts the room with a very satisfying aroma.  At the end of a short period of waiting and praying for a good cup, I partake in the daily practice of ingesting this holy liquid which miraculously pulls my self out of the zombieness that stands before it, I am awake, and I am grateful. 

Routines like this are important for the sanctity of self preservation.  Each one of us has his or her own little sacred routines that we go through on a daily basis keeping order and balance in our personal environment completing the day.  We all tend to repeat these routines on a regular time exchange daily.  This helps us understand the passing of Time as it relates to our personal Space as we travel through the universe we occupy at any given moment.  

During our days other routines occupy our time.  I, after my daily Coffee ritual, do what my wife has playfully dubbed as the Funky Chicken dance.  That is I practice my daily Taijiquan and Gong Fu  Taulo, or what we call Lohan and Morning Dancing.  What Master Tim has coined as Kitchen Kung Fu.  Others do other things, running, lift weights, Yoga, or whatever strikes the fancy of the practitioner.  These are all daily routines.  Lest we insult the other's around us with our odoriferousness, we follow with the other important daily happenings, Shower, shave, and mirror gazing trying to figure out just who the hell is staring back at us from the other side.  Once we have established our own identities we can move on to the rest of the day.  

Every one of us has a set number of these routines we go through day in and day out as we progress through our present livings.  Occasionally we divert and change the order in which we practice our dailies, but that has very little effect on the forward momentum we have carved our for ourselves.  

Does this look familiar to the reader, does this have a smattering of reality?   It should, because for many of us these daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly practices, these things that are pushing you ever closer to your God are as close as you'll ever get to the practice of a "Real" religion.   Amen, HO

Peace and Balance,

John

Mowing the Lawn

 A twelve year old boy just loves his tractors and trucks.  He drives them back and forth and around and round for hours and hours.  Then we grow up and leave our tractors and trucks behind.  Such a sad state of affairs when a grown man can't admit to still wanting to play with tractors and trucks. Sad indeed.

It's a wonder that more of us haven't gone into the agricultural pursuits just to get that fix of driving tractors and trucks that we are all so craving.  As we get older our tractors and trucks get bigger and more complicated.  Some of us start venerating companies like, Big Bud, and John Deer.  Other's of us go so far as to deify the companies of our favorite models of Tractors and Trucks thus create the Cults of John Deer and Ford/Chevy who's existence resembles closely the Chinese Yin Yang. I leave it up to the reader to place Ford or Chevy in the proper perspective.  Tractors and Truckers unite, stay young.

Many of us rural boys have the responsibilities of taking care of the yards, lawns, and gardens in which our domiciles are encased.  Some of us have more yard space than others.   We have adapted to gain our Tractor and Truck fix through the use of the Lawn Tractor and the F150 Ford truck to haul stuff and mow the lawns of our extended yards.  I love mowing lawns.

My inner child has been expressing himself through the extension of my very own Lawn Tractor.  My yard has some convenient ups and downs, a little rise and fall which gives riding the tractor that thrill my inner twelve year old boy craves.  Mowing the lawn has become a Zen Garden moment, round and round in patterns of expression and meaning. The movements of the Tractor and Truck, contemplation and meditations remembered from childhood.

Peace and Balance,

John

Is all work Honorable?

Many years ago my dentist said to me that, "All work is Honorable."  I didn't agree with him, and still don't.  He had no idea at the time what kinds of things can lie in one's past.  Today I work at Walmart two days per week.  Walmart has become the largest entity of it's kind on the planet.  It has more employees world wide than the United States military.  Considering the US has the largest active professional military  on the planet that is saying something.  Walmart has Stores and Supercenters in virtually every nation in the world.  The company has recently pulled it's holdings out of Russia due to the war in Ukraine.  Russia has since stolen the operating model and opened versions of Walmart of their very own using the old locations that were previously occupied by Walmart.  

I'm not a real fan of Walmart however.  I have recently been convinced that the Devil's name is actually Walton.  This is a family name not actually the name of one man, we know him as Sam.  Sam Walton is not the Devil, he would roll over in his grave if he knew what had happened to his company, however his grandchildren and greatgrandchildren proudly collectively wear the moniker, Devil.  

When arriving at work on the weekends I can swear I hear the screams and moans of tortured souls.  The place called Wal exists on one of the outer rings of Hell.  It is said the Dante channeled demons when writing the "Divine Comedy".  I believe he was actually seeing into the future and witnessed the rise of the world of Wal.  His work of literature is a perfect copy of the operations and power structure of Walmart.  It is the coming and goings of the green river that keeps the business alive.  The associates are the poor souls that are being tortured and the management are the demons that guard each ring of Hell.  At the Centre stands the Devil amid the Camping and outdoors equipment, Hitler in one hand, Caligula in the other, and the Donald at his feet, all taking turns being devoured by their own sins.  

I disagreed with my Dentist that day.  Not all work is Honorable.  However, Honorable people often do un-honorable acts in order to create positive change in the people.  Walmart has more employees than the US military.  Fortunately the average intelligence of Walmart management is that of a walnut.  Therefore there is no worry about an armed conflict brewing with the Land of Wal.  You never know what things look like in the universe right on the other side.

Peace and Balance,

John  

A Change in Perspective

 As we grow from childhood through adolescence into adulthood how we perceive our environment and our world changes from age to age.  At the beginning when we are small children, the world is a magical place full of wonder and awe.  At each step in our development we encounter stimulus that changes our perception at small intervals.  Some of this influence isn't always warm and fuzzy.  Much of the stimulus and influence  changing our perception is dark and nefarious.  

How we navigate these stops and goes in our lives, both the goodies and the baddies, determines what kind of character we will develop when we finely reach adulthood and crawl out of the larval stage of the Human Being.  When we become our own personal Butterfly.  

Sometimes we have changes after we are adults and have already gone through the mutations of the pupa.  These points, these rare occurrences can often become terrifying.  When the adult is presented with a stimulus that the mind can't wrap itself around there can be a multitude of interesting reactions.  Often times these influences cause or may create a fight or flight response in the receiver of the information.  The character that was created earlier in life determines how and what kind of reaction is created.  

Classically there are one of three responses, the individual will fight automatically to protect itself, the individual will run away to protect itself, or the individual will freeze in place to protect itself.  This happens physically as well as mentally and emotionally.  

There are ways to countermand these responses in our psyche through lots of training and practice, years of practice.  We can turn those responses into positive growth and life lessons.  We can open our eyes, and our minds eyes to get a full picture of what is actually presenting itself and we can see truth.  

It is also possible to use this training to mirror reflect negative influences directly back at the giver turning the control on them.  This can have the effect of scaring the hell out of our opponents.  Because now they are presented with an unknown, a wild card.  

When your world suddenly starts spinning backwards on its axis and a purple haze begins to rise from the mist, look straight at it and through it.  Absorb what you see, program it in your minds eye, let it become part of your being because what does not kill you makes you stronger.  Become the Sorcerer.  

Peace and Balance,

John

Just wait 5 minutes

 

It's said of the weather in New Hampshire that if you don't like it, just wait five minutes.  The past week has been hot and unhappily sticky.  The humidity level was high enough that I was contemplating carrying a canoe around with me, just in case.  Just in case of what, you ask?  Well one can never be sure.  Who knows if the skies aren't about to open up and throw a deluge of that wet stuff straight into our faces. The implications could turn almost biblical.  The almost is the reason why I was only contemplating a canoe. After all why would I over react?  

Our five minutes have past and I wake this morning to a rather pleasant 60 ish degrees with no humidity. Makes the air all most chilly.  Ah, it's good to be alive.  I gander at the weather reports coming in this summer from all over the globe, and ask myself, "Who doesn't believe in global warming now?"  Idiots...

I recently wrote about the change in weather and I'm thinking things are progressing allot faster than even I foresee.  The human race on this fine and wonderous planet of ours, "Earth" seems to be headlong into committing suicide through slow poison. We are poisoning our environments so completely that the possibilities of a quick cleanup are impossible.  I don't believe there is enough time.  

To my mind there are two solutions to the problem.  The first is that Mother Earth shakes the infection off of her surface and letting her natural immune system take charge and do away with the infection.  Unfortunately we, the Human Beings, are the infection.  That solution doesn't bode well.  

Second solution, and it seems to be on the minds of many these days, a world wide intervention from Alien Beings from a far off place, or space, or whatever.  That intervention hopefully would be a positive one in which the friends from abroad would teach us the errors of our ways and help us evolve beyond the need for poisoning our mother.  Of course an other out come would be possible as well, they want the Earth for themselves, terra form it and enslave us tinny creatures to do their bidding.  This wouldn't bode well.  

So, out of 2 and a half possibilities, 2/3 of it is not boding well for us, and one scenario that sounds more like a fantasy novel that a real possibility.  hmmmm.  

So fellow Humans, tighten up your sphincter and keep your fingers crossed, and hope I'm just a babbling fool..  

Peace and Balance,

Johb

Grandma's German Pancakes

One of the great morning creations in my kitchen are pancakes and sausages.  I create pancakes from that crazy rarely used substance called, "Scratch".  With Scratch you can create a multitude of wonderful morning items with which to nourish the body.  I have a tasty list of goodies that I use that magical Scratch stuff to create.  Freshly fried Potatoes and Onions sprinkled with diced Kielbasa, seasoned with Garlick salt, Sweet Basil, Kosher Salt, and Black Pepper.  Yummy.   

Scratch has blessed me with the likes of Toast, Bacon, and yes Eggs.  This is a favorite.  Mona can't eat eggs, she's allergic.  But, hey more for me.  I know some of these Scratchy things sound simplistic, but it's the simplest things in life that mean to most.  

If a good Breakfast becomes to complicated the pleasure of the moment disappears hidden in the complications of the recipe and the taste, and who needs complicated taste?  I'll stick with Scratch any day.  

Here's a recipe for you.  Grandma's German Pancakes.  

Mix up your favorite, From Scratch, pancake mix.  Mix it real thin, the thinner the better.

On a hot griddle spread the batter thin let it sizzle until small bubbles escape.  Flip.  

Cook 30 seconds on other side, add sliced strawberries, blueberries, and bananas. 

Roll up into a tasty log of goodyness.  

Place on plate and top with made from Scratch whip cream and butter, with just a tad bit of Ole Fashioned New Hampshire made Maple Syrup.  

Serve with Hot coffee for the adults or nice warm coco for the kiddies and a side of OJ.  

Enjoy the sugar rush...

Peace and Balance,

John

A Re-Emergence

 

Many of you know, many may not, that for the majority of my early adult professional life I was a full time Martial Arts instructor and Athlete.  I would travel around visiting different venues giving lectures, and classes ranging from stress relief techniques for professionals, to martial arts, tactics, and self defense for Security, EMS, Police, and Fire Departments in the Tri state area of Northern New Hampshire, Vermont, and Maine.  I would occasionally accept invitations to tournaments where another Martial Artist would attempt to punch or kick my head off, or if the practicum called for it, try to tie me into a tiny knot.  I made enough money playing this game for a little over twenty years to pay my bills and keep me in beans and rice.  Life was good.

In 1998 while I was training for a local event I injured myself to the verge of early retirement.  I was going through a Yoga routine, one that I had been practicing for more than 30 years, and found myself in the position of having to watch the ACL, (anterior cruciate ligament) in my right knee slowly tear itself apart.  I couldn't move or change position, all I could do was experience the pain while it happened, and it happened at an excruciating slow pace. I could even hear the sickening sound of the tissue pulling itself apart.  Not an experience I would wish on anyone.  

It took me two years to rehab from this injury, after having a cadaver ligament used to replace the blown out one.  Regular visits to physical therapy and the sports Docs place eventually got me to the point where I could get my limb back into kicking and low stance shape.  I was now 40 years old and not as willing to crawl into the ring with 20 to 30 year old kids.  I'll teach them how to be proverbial punching bags, I just won't be the punching bag.  Business picked up and I again was paying the bills and eating the occasional burrito.  I had a couple other gigs, but hey.  

The turn of the century came and the economy of our fine town died.  The paper mills closed, and folks of all kinds lost jobs and began shifting around into different life styles and different occupations.  I went back to school to work on a degree in education.  I was the oldest student in the class for most of my experience.  During this time I was forced to close my Dojo, a Japanese word for school.  This is kind of funny since I teach Chinese Gong Fu and the correct word is actually Kwoon, but hey Americans are gullible.  Anyways I closed up operations of my Dojo in 2005 after being a part time academy for two or three years.  

By the time I had closed up my school I had already spent a lifetime studying and practicing  the classical martial arts.   I decided to take my school underground and re-create myself and dump all old things purging myself from bad influences and negative teachings and thoughts, to begin anew again.  

The year was now 2019 and after a conversation with two of my most honorable and loyal students I began teaching again.  I just didn't tell them that I had dumped all prior material and re-created the whole curriculum of the system.  I have spent the past 20 years creating and re-creating a whole set of new forms, techniques, and teaching principles with which to express my understanding of Martial Philosophy and introduce to them a brand new Gong Fu system and style.  

We are now a wandering school that travels from my backyard, to one of my master student's garages, to the incredible Zoom device.  When we began meeting for classes the Pandemic decided to emerge and we we're forced to hold classes online over Zoom and on Google Classroom, a good place to keep a record of our material, and easy meeting place.  We have become a hybrid half online half in person Kwoon.  The modern era is here.  

Today we are on the lookout for a economically viable location with which to share our material with new generations of students.  Our new introduction.  

We are The New School Of The Silent Warrior, I am John the Head Master and founder of the system, style, and school  I am assisted by two of my Master students, Adam, and Tim who have together become a foundation for the Kwoon.  In the background are two other Master's of the Esoteric who prefer to keep themselves clandestine, with whom I share the higher states of being with, the secrets to Enlightenment, for which I will be forever grateful.

Peace and Balance,

John

NaCl

 Salt is one of the most important minerals to our physical well being and personal health.  The chemical combination of two very deadly poisons, Na (Sodium) which will violently combust in the presence of oxygen, and Cl (Chlorine) that travels around in a sickly green gas waiting to combine with water to chemically transform into HCl (Hydrochloric Acid).  At the very wrong moment this green gas can be breathed into the lungs and transform in the lungs to this acid.  Not a good thing at all.  However, you combine the two and have a substance that the human body can not live without.  

I used to be a fairly proficient outdoorsy type.  When I was younger I would grab a backpack, a sleeping bag, some extra water, and a couple of granola bars, and head out on the nearest trail to find an adventure at the hands and or paws of nature.  If need be with the help of my handy dandy Swiss Army knife, I could dig up edibles  and whittle myself a shelter out of  an old log.  I was good.  At that time in my youth I even had the presence of mind to create what we used to call rescue water.  That would be a quart of water mixed with a couple tablespoons of table salt.  This concoction of slightly salty water was to fight off the effects of the Big Yellow Orb in the sky.  I grew up in the Great American desert where the proper balance of water and salt can keep you alive under the right conditions.  Today the young hikers drink things like Gatorade, and other premade products to do much the same thing, keep you hydrated and properly chemically balanced.  

Now that I live in Northern New Hampster, a place that usually has such pleasant weather, I've forgotten the simple things that an outdoorsy fellow such as myself should know, Salt.  We have been experiencing what the weather man calls a legitimate heat wave.  We have had temps of over 90ish degrees for an extended period of time that is extenuated by such lovely super humidness. The fluids of my body are leaking excessively from the pores of my skin.  I found my self extremely dehydrated and feeling like I should have taken the license plate of the truck that ran me over.  

It was later in the week that I had one of those epiphanies, an event of overwhelming memory, and moment when I could swear I actually saw a light bulb over my head, rather dim but there non the less.  I mixed up some rescue water, had a few chips and, poof, the majick happened and I felt much better.  

The things we learn early in life sometimes come in quite handy later in life.  The next step has to do with Potassium I'm sure of it...

Peace and Balance,

John

To See or Not To See

 

I new a man years ago that had dead eyes.  His gaze would stare straight through you.  This would creep me right out.  He had the ability to make the staunchest person uneasy and those in authority forget their purpose.  My friend was a sniper during the Viet Nam conflict.  

His gaze reminded me of the eyes of a wolf.  Wolves will look straight through you.  They will not turn their eyes aside and most likely will give you a very low almost inaudible growl if you look straight back.  To the wolf this look is a challenge, it is telling the wolf that you are the Alpha, the one in charge.  

My friend was just like that.  Maybe he got a kick out of making people uneasy, maybe not, we'll never know.  He has since past from our plane of existence.  This was his super power.  

My friend had the look of a killer.  When you looked into his eyes you could see, or rather feel, the turmoil within that gaze.  It is said that the soul will reveal itself to you, the observer who looks into the eyes of the one who is communicating with him.  When looking into my friend's eyes you felt vulnerable and would think about your own weakness'.  He was reminiscent of a Vampyre.  

When I hear stories of people who claim to be, "Killers" or are willing to do such a thing I remember the look in my friend's eyes.  I use this as a guide to gain insight into the mind of those that make such claims.  This guide hasn't let me down for years. 

Individuals that will start such conversations with me while wearing sunglasses or some other form of eye shades are possibly lying to me as well as themselves.  I knew another man who would teach whole classes on different aspects of violence and self defense with sunglasses on.  It turns out he was suffering from massive insecurity and did not want the class witnessing this in his eyes.  His lies eventually imploded his business interests and left those around him to operate within their own strengths.  Those who could look into a clients eyes without the shades and speak truth succeeded. Those who copied the practices of their instructor followed his fate.  

My friend with the dead eyes taught me a great lesson in recognizing truth vs. BS.  He suffered the pains of his past, but he was true to himself and others.  His relationship to the undead, well that was purely coincidental...

Peace and Balance,

John

Basic Punching

Water water everywhere and not a drop to Drink.

 

Water, human beings have a sacred relationship with water.  We were birthed from the Waters, we are nurtured by the Waters, we are bathed and fed by the Waters.  Without the Waters there would be no life on this planet.  Every thing we are from conception to to death is due to the Waters.  I am capitalizing the word Waters and making them plural intentionally to make a point, and pay homage to the Spirit of the Water's.  In the past I've had conversations about the blood of the Mother, the Earth with those who equate the blood of the Earth to the oil that we misuse from the Earth.  This is not the blood of the Earth.  The Blood of the Earth are the Waters of the Mother.  Ina Mahka, Mother Earth is a being that has Four distinct parts, The Land, The Air, Her Immense molten Heart, and the Water's.  Each of these parts has a Spirit of it's own that combines to become our ever loving Mother.  Each one of these parts has to be conjoined to the other three in order for our Mother to live and to keep we frail Human Beings alive.  The Fires and the Land combine together as the masculine side of the Earth's being, and the Airs and the Waters combine to become the feminine side of the Earth's being.  We, the children of the Earth, have done so much damage to the Waters of the Earth that there has been a measurable change in the way the Surface of the Earth is reacting to the Waters.  We have injected poisons into the Waters that have driven the PH levels of acids and alkalis out of balance enough that we are not able to live on certain parts of the Mother.  The land is becoming incapable of sustaining the lives of all, not just us puny Human Beings.  What is not widely known, because those in the know don't want the majority to know, is that there is an actual measurable swing in the weather that parallels and reflects what's happening with the Waters.   When we poison our Atmospheres we are poisoning our Waters.  The Airs react and the Waters react, then the Lands react.  We are raising the temperatures of our Mother to the point of no going back, there is no Band-Aid big enough to help.  We know how to fix the problem, we just don't have enough time, nor enough recourses to help clean up our mistake.  Eventually over long periods of time because of our failures to  properly care for the surface of our Mother the Earth, the surface of the Lands, the Airs, and the poisoning and destruction of the Waters, will bring our overall temperature closer to that of the internal Heart of the Earth and we will All die.   If we plan on returning to our Mother after our deaths, to re-incarnate our beings, we are either going to have to look for another planet, or incarnate as a being that can live in extreme temperatures, not one of my personal choices...

Peace and Balance,

John

Coffee on Fridays

 

Every Friday as the weather holds out a couple of spiritual brothers and I gather together and burn some sacred wood on a sacred fire drinking the sacred drink.  That being nice black strong coffee. Lots of nice black strong Coffee.  Although we all disagree on just how strong is strong enough, and how to prepare the black blood of life, we all enjoy the burning, the conversation, and of course the drink itself. I prefer the Keurig machine, possibly the name of a future god. Each of us has his own preparation methods.  It is said that an Ethiopian Goat Herd named, Kaldi was wandering with his goats along a plateau and discovered some aromatic beans.  As with all curiosities he tried consuming them in all manner of preparation.  After much time and a few hyper active goats, Kaldi found an acceptable method of consuming the beans by forcing hot water through a ground dried version, Coffee was born.  Kaldi reported his findings to an Abbot in a local monastery and as things happen the Abbot and the Monks claimed the discovery for themselves and poor Kaldi was lost to history, dang Catholics.  My two Coffee worshiping brothers and I manage to consume enough of the drink each Friday evening to stimulate some pretty Big happenings.  These happenings can quite literally be classified as ole fashioned Majick.  In my Grandmother's speak there are two words for Coffee, Pejuta Sapa, and Wakaliapi.  Wakaliapi literally translates to "Holy Bean"  Waka is sacred or holy, and Liapi means bean, "Holy Bean", and Pejuta Sapa translates to "Black Medicine".  Pejuta is medicine, and Sapa means black.  So, we have Black Medicine.  From the Holy Beans we make Black Medicine.  Sort of makes sense doesn't it.  It turns out that there is real scientific evidence that says drinking coffee every day can ward off certain aliments, lower the risk of cancer, and extend the life.  So I guess in one form or another it is medicinal.  The conversations this majickal liquid entices range anywhere from bad politics to the new classification of the UFO, or UAP as they are now called.  Although I have recent discovered that there are three main classifications of flying things, UAP, unknown aerial phenomena, those are the flying things that we see and can't identify at all, but they are flying and not identifiable. Then, there's the UFO, those are things that we see and can say, "Hey that's an object of some kind," be it a physical thing, a metal think, or an energy thing, we can determine that it is an object of sorts, UFO.  Last there are the IFO, identified flying objects.  That one is self explanatory.  We see it and we identify it.  Recently some of the UFO's have become IFO's and some of the UAP's have become UFO's.  This is how declassification works, little steps.  If the whole truth came out all at once you never know what sort of mayhem and mirth may be the result.  Dogs and cats getting along, people traveling without fear, no more shootings in the streets, the possibilities are endless.  Fridays have become a new Holy Day for me.  I really like Coffee.   So, I say to all readers, spend some time with close friends, family, and like minded persons, drink some of the Holy Beans and talk the Black Medicine, communicate and your conversations may actually turn into, a Communion...  

Peace and Balance,

John

A Helping Hand

 One of the greatest attributes of a Human Being is the ability to provide a service for another Human Being.  Offering this service from one to another is a great gift given to us from the Creator of all things, WakanTanka Tunkasila, Allah, the Atman, or just plain ole God.  We small creatures have been given a great gift, the ability to exercise our power of choice and offer up this gift to our fellow beings.  Compassion towards another enables us to lighten our own loads and heighten our personal vibrations. What this means is that your energies are more in tune to like minded folks that presumably are doing the same sort of thing and are on similar paths.  Or, if you believe in such things, can communicate or commune with beings on a higher vibration, ya know, angels, positive entities, friendly beings, and of course the occasional alien that wants to guide us along our path of development.  This is when I interject a little bit of caution.  Remember the episode of "The Twilight Zone" where there are supposed nice aliens that give man a bunch of stuff, high technologies, the cure for all disease, a personal sense of happiness, and of course the occasional ride in a space ship.  These tall goofy looking fellers carried around a book that said, "To Serve Man Kind" on it , also the title of the episode.  Turns out at the end of the episode, after our protagonist gets on board a ship for his ride, that the book, the wonderful doctrine of the Aliens, "To Serve Man Kind" is a Cook Book.  Ye gads man, kinda puts us in the realm of being the Cattle.  So, we might have higher vibrations, but we still need to look out whom we communicate with. Any Ways I digress.  The word Shaman, which comes from a Manchu-Tungus word saman, literally translates to, "One who knows."    This is a word that has been used generically world wide to describe indigenous Holy people, and Medicine folks.  In the ancient or not so ancient past/present, the shaman would go through rituals to eventually communicate or commune with the being described above.  It used to be the responsibility of every responsible adult member of the tribe/clan to be a Shaman.  That slowly changed as populations grew.  Eventually it moved to the head of the household, and then the spiritual head of the community.  Then later then spiritual keepers separated from the medicine keepers and we created a priest hood and a medical community.  The priest hood eventually lost the ability to commune and started lying to the people, and the medical folks began a war of monetary attrition.  Today we find ourselves in the position of returning back to our origins and upon reaching higher vibrational states return to the original, Shaman.  Again I put out the warning of whom we communicate with and who we, "Believe"  For Belief is based on Faith and Faith can become the start of Worship.  Worship starts Religions, and that's no good for anyone.  Stay Spiritual and raise your vibrations to the highest level with a wary eye, and Serve your fellow Beings, for the Doors to the Heavens will open to you.  

Peace and Balance,

John

Sleep less nights

 

Last night, a night that will live in memory and abused coffee machines, was long and sleepless.  Mona and I spent the night going over book shelves and watching old reruns of Columbo on Tubi.  Now, there is a point at which awakeness will turn into stupidness.  The thing is we don't usually recognize the stupid in our actions until you find yourself talking to inanimate objects such as the refrigerator, a chair, and the all knowing bathroom door, about subjects that you usually reserve for the occasional college lecture.  Ya know, stuff like the state of the economy, quantum physics, how to eat an Oreo, and the great mathematical question, "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?"  With so many great mystical questions  in our multiverse it's a mystery how we get any sleep at all. The books never did get arraigned.  I should mention I haven't had a drink in years and don't partake on any recreational multivitamins.  Late at night, lack of sleep, this is my usual weirdness.  The Aliens are amused...  

Peace and Balance,

John

Alien Origins

 I woke this morning after a dream wondering where exactly do we Earth bound beings come from.  There are thoughts that we might hail from the planet Mars after a cataclysmic event.  Possibly an event that left a wandering planet in shambles in-between Mars and Jupiter.  That would be the asteroid belt, the possible rubble of a collision of worlds.  The Martians escaped and landed on Earth to eventually populate and terraform a new world for habitation.  hmmm, that sounds plausible.  Another idea is that a race of super intelligent beings wandered by and decided to experiment with the indigenous peoples of the Earth  playing Biogenetic games on our ancestors, the apes.  Rearraigning DNA multiple times until we hairless large lobed critters stepped out of the ooze to claim the world as our own.  That's what we do best, point at an object and say, "Hey that belongs to me." then stick a flag in it and do a dance, poof.  Depending on how provocative the dance and how convincing your, "My" statement is determines just how much of the thing is yours and how much you have to share with those who had already stuck a flag in it.  Whole generations  have used this method for claiming worlds.  And whole generations have disappeared.  Another idea is that there is this real big bearded fellow that magically created human kind with the snap of his fingers.  This big hairy dude has been watching over us and guiding us with his sense of right and wrong since the beginning of, well, all things.  We know when he gets irritated because the ground shakes and the skies throw lightning at us.  And we know when he's feeling good because the sun shines and the harvest is bountiful.  Thing about this guy is that you're not supposed to talk about any other big creative folks or suffer the wrath.  Sounds like a good story for folks to manipulate other folks with.  Still, doesn't really explain where we Earth bound kids come from.  Maybe, just maybe have you, that we thought the whole thing up in the first place.  That everything around us is the product of some really rad shrooms, or Uncle Buck's private stock, or we just create stuff with our own thought engine, we are the creator of all we see.  Sounds kinda trippy, but hey you never know...  

Peace and Balance,

John

Time

 Time is an elusive thing.  It comes, it goes, it stays fleeting in the present then  suddenly becomes the past.  Future events can only be speculated upon and become history in the bat of an eye.  The thing about time is you can ignore things for long periods of it then realize after that it would be good to catch up on events before there is no going back.  This is one of those moments.  This is an exercise in time reawakening the Zen of any given moment.  I write this blog realizing fully that it has been many years since I have types keys to this page, and I am hopeful that there are still eyes wondering pages that might read these thoughts.  I have spent the majority of my time awakening the sleeping giant within us all hoping that the message will kick in.  Finding that message, well that's up to you.  Now and Zen, is here again.  Enjoy...

Peace and Balance,

John

Audrey Gibson, "Little Red Cloud"

I don’t know much about the early life of my Mother’s mother other that she was born in Butte Mt. somewhere early in the last century. From what I’ve gathered there was some controversy over my grandma’s birth, but that was never fully explained to me. Anywho, she eventually ended up in Boulder married to my grandpa, “Hoot”.

My Grandmother was a Kootenai/ Salish Irish/Welsh Indian kid that became very educated. She was formally schooled as well as educated in the secret ways of her people. My grandma was a medicine woman. When I was young I remember doing the rounds with her. She would travel a wide circle around the Billings Mt. And Crow agency area’s visiting the old and infirm elders of both Indian and White families. She would give advice, share stories and administer a certain sort of medical advise we can call big medicine. There was one lady she would visit more than other’s. Unfortunately I can’t remember her name, but the exchange of wisdom was mutual from both women. They shared a certain bond that was more than a friendship or a client. This lady would give me candy and goodies upon our arrival, so as you can imagine it was a favorite stop for me.

My Grandma was the one who showed me how to throw a ball, ride a bike, use a glove, shoot baskets, and swing a golf club. I’m not good at the golf club thing. They remind me too much of a sword and I’ve got that inner born hit to kill instinct that makes golfing difficult. She also taught me the ways of her medicine. The secrets of listening that go a long to help heal.

Audrey was all of 4 feet 11 with boots on and she was the head girls basketball coach of the Crow Agency high school at Hardin Mt. They called her Little Red Cloud because her hair was bright almost orange red. It wasn’t her natural color. She died her hair red because that was the school colors for Crow Agency High School. After all she was the basketball coach. She was also a teacher that taught both English and Science. My grandma was a very learned woman. I remember listening to my Dad and her have discussions that would blow the mind of the average listener. My Dad was a great fan of grandma and followed her lead into teaching.

My Grandma Gibson was Heyoka. She was a backwards warrior and often a clown. She spent her life working with the elderly and the children. She was and still is the great memory of my childhood. She taught me the things that I brought with me into adulthood, the important things that people store from their childhoods. She separated the wheat from the chaff.

My grandmother eventually succumbed to the advanced stages of the Alzheimer’s disease that first attacked her in her fifties and sixties. Her memories decade, but my memories of her live on strong. Live on Little Red, I know the Happy Hunting Grounds are good to you.

Peace and Balance,

John

Henry Clark Gibson, "Hoot"

My mother’s Father was a big Choctaw/Chickasaw Irish Indian from Texarkana, Arkansas. Even though he adamantly claimed to be from the Texas side of the Border because all things in Texas are bigger. Research showed that he was actually born on the Arkansas side of the border. Texarkana is a city ripped in two by the Texas, Arkansas border. However, when my grandfather was born there may have not been state boundaries in that part of the country yet. He was born somewhere in the late 1800’s. He never really new his real age.

On a shelf in my home I have some horse tack that was owned by my Grandpa. There is a bridal, bit, and a strap that all have a bold US stamped on them. These are US Calvary issued items that date somewhere during the turn of the last century, or one before. He wasn’t in the Calvary. He was an Indian kid growing up in the southwestern desert.

When my Grandpa was a young man he and some friends drove a heard of horses and cattle straight north from Texas to Montana. As he told me the story, there were no fences or roads that bared their progress. Now remember these were a group of Indians heading north. Somewhere along the way they happened to pick up the Calvary tack. I do believe there may have been some horses attached. How ever they acquired the material I’ll leave up to your imaginations.

After arriving in the Montana territory, grandpa began working as a cowboy and horse trainer on a large ranch in Boulder Mt. He eventually became the ranch foreman in charge of a staff of cowboys and drivers. He was the boss, El Heffe. During his time in Boulder he met a Kootenai/Salish Irish woman named Audrey and they married. I’ll write about her later on.

My mother, Linda Elaine Gibson, was born in August of 1938 in the back seat of an old sedan when my grandpa was in his early to mid forties. She was raised until she was about 13 years old on that Ranch in Boulder. My Uncle John came after. Being in Montana living on a Ranch protected my grandparents from the worst of the depression. Being a couple Indian kids gave them the skills and stamina to survive.

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor Grandpa joined the US Navy. He worked as a diesel mechanic in the boiler room of a ship. During his time in the Navy he boxed. Fighting was a way to keep his mind off of not being home. Wars do that. They take people from their families and change them.

My grandfather traveled all over the world. He knew people and he taught them what he knew. What he knew, the secrets he shared along with the life he led are the stuff of legends. Minor ones maybe, but hey legends are legends however short they are. They called him Hoot, the sounds of an Owl. He died at the approximate age of 111.

Peace and Balance,

John

Up And Coming

Howdy all, in the next few blogs I’ve decided to share with you some stories about my family. That is my gandparents, parents, siblings, friends,  and everyone I remember.  The stories may be entertaining, or they may not be, we shall see.

Peace and Balance,

John

The High Road

There’s an old Scottish song that says, “You’ll take the High road and I’ll take the Low road and I’ll get to Scotland before Ye.” This morning I write thinking about the High road. The High road is the rough road, the rocky road, the road that gives us cuts and bruises and often open wounds. I’m thinking about this road because of the recent ordeal that my beautiful wife, Romona and I have been going through this summer.

Sometimes there is a point in which mountains crumble and walls removed, in which all sacred things seem lost and human trust gone with it. If it were not for my savior, my Mona, I do not believe I would be surviving this ordeal. She has been my foundation, my crutch, she has been my confidant, my conscience, the rock that holds me together grounded. It has been a hard and painful journey. The veil has been lifted from our eyes and we have seen the face of humanity.

I removed a post I had written claiming I was on walkabout. This was not true. I was merely fooling myself into believing large philosophical thoughts that blinded me to the truth. I am not on a road alone. I am embraced by the most beautiful soul I have ever met, my Romona, and I regret to say that I have not treated her with the respect, dignity, and trust that is hers. She stands ever present giving me the inspiration to get out of bed each morning and to carry on each day, she is my hope. For her ever present faith in me and the guidance she gives I am forever grateful, Romona I love you and thank you for being you.

Our story began somewhere after the holiday last year when I called in ill from work and slept in. Romona and I stayed in bed and caught an extra eye full of sleep. I don’t know why I woke, maybe to go to the bathroom, but there was something missing from our driveway. Our car was missing. It was repossessed on the day I was going to make a double payment. The bank would not negotiate and the amount of money to get the vehicle back was so large that it was no longer an option. Supposedly we still owe. This I don’t understand. My friend Ray drove me down south to the car lockup and we retrieved our belongings from the deposed car.

Another friend found a cheap car for us to drive after letting us use his personal vehicle, thank you Tim. I was supposed to pay for the car when we got our finances together. This was supposed to happen by now, it did not. On the way home from grocery shopping late on a very cold night, we tend to shop late, the vehicle made a funny spit and a hissing noise and slowly came to a stop. It hasn’t ran since. It was about eleven in the evening and we had a carload of groceries to get home. Luckily a police officer came by soon after and took Mona home and came back and waited with me for the tow truck. We got it towed home, emptied the cargo and have been without a car ever since. This was about eight months ago. I relied on a friend to cart me back and forth from work, we walked, and we have been going to appointments and the stores when our son, Lee is home with his car. Thank you Lee and thank God he’s been here when home from school. Lee’s a student in his final year now at PSU. I should mention, the very same day we had trouble with our car, his engine blew in his car. It was fixed after much trouble and expense on Lee’s part. Now he’s driving a much nicer vehicle, thank God.

Another thing I should mention. My foundation and inspiration, Romona, is not well. She is a very ill young lady that needs constant medical attention. Consequently I have not been able to get her to her doctor’s appointments like she should. There are several specialists she needs to see that we can’t get to because of the lack of reliable wheels. Due to this fact several things are happening right now that would have been avoided if it were only the convenience of a working car and a better income, or a “real job” as I call it. She is still twice what I am ill or not.

As the school year progressed and I began making inquires about my summer job, I worked with the custodians at the same school I work in during the winter, I discovered I did not have a job. This revelation came with two weeks left in the school year. I am devastated, floored, and in serious financial trouble. Bills have piled up, and our mortgage is now in arrears, and I haven’t been able to collect unemployment. We’ve tried some desperate measures like selling gold, which we did not do, and we’ve managed to pull through to the mid of August. A summer without an income.

I’m facing garnishment on my school loans, no mortgage payment until school starts, and a multitude of piled up stuff that seems to keep finding it’s way here. Including very recently the discovery of a Face Book page that was started in my name without my approval. This is technically called identity theft and will be dealt with. When will it stop?

With all this happening my Romona has still stood by strong and vigilant giving me advise and the benefit of her wisdom. She is my inspiration, she is my angel, and she has taken the “High Road” with me. Now, on to Scotland.

John