| General Non-Fiction posted December 8, 2012 | Chapters: |
...89 90 -91- 92... 
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Gefilte Fish -Some language and situations.
A chapter in the book Performance Problems- My Life! LOL
Footsteps and Gefilte Fish (1)
by Mike K2
At this point in this book, I ran into a severe problem and it took months to figure out that a biographical work is near impossible to conclude because I still am alive. The last two chapters took over ten months to complete for some very simple reasons. The events are so fresh in one's mind enough time hasn't elapsed yet to not only organize them, or to see how they will affect your life.
Then you spend the odd month to pen them onto paper, or type them into your computer. The trepidation is here, you seem to want to present the most positive light with a positive message, but that wasn't what this book was about, as I felt I had commentary that the world needed to consider.
My simple prayer to God was to give me what I need to bring this book to a successful conclusion, and when a story came along that just about ties everything up, you praise God in your prayers!
Then you walk away, knowing that instead, you have the perfect story to conclude your book and now see the Son-of-a-bitch element that can be found in God. You didn't get what you needed to paint that positive picture for people to consider, you got the story that was the original reason you started writing this book, someone has to say something.
Before we summarize, what I consider the trail of tears, I have to say that I have learned to love life and have a wonderful sense of what it is about. I have a place in it as well for other people's lives that touched mine, be it for a few minutes, over a life span; be it constantly or intermittently.
I think the best thing I picked up in life is also the best one to relay, "Dreams don't die!" and will come back into your life even though circumstance dictated you shelve them; provided you never forget about them. I wanted to be a mountaineer and explorer, to wade through a frozen hell with that possibility I will die.
That was the first dream I gave up, because my father insisted on it as virtue is the practical of hard work and worship. While I knew I had no chance of a major mountain trek, I still loved camping and still had the fortitude to try in smaller ways, even if only to pass on the spirit to others.
OK, I also did it to needle my old man with just enough rebellion to communicate to him, I am still trying. To me, when I got my technical mountaineering equipment and hung it up on the basement wall, it was priceless to see the look of total disbelief and astonishment when he said, "Jesus Christ Mike, you have enough stuff hanging up to do a major assault on an installation."
While he thought my remaining in Scouts was a childish endeavor, he knew by my sheer exhaustion after I returned. "I discovered the weather report from the area you camped at said, 'Life Threatening Conditions,' I was sure you were out having fun in it. I wasn't worried about you because if I was God, I wouldn't want to have to deal with you."
I figured with all that was already explored, I would never be involved with a discovery of my own and didn't even consider it. It wouldn't be on the earth this would change, but deep in the earth. Even with caving, I wasn't involved with an academic cave group and the caves we enjoyed were always mapped out.
My favorite was mapped out by a New York caving group, but the owner wouldn't permit them to return because of their behavior. We were permitted and it turned out to be a wonderful feeling to realize that we not only werre in an area they hadn't mapped out, there were no footprints or scuff marks in the passages and we knew we were the first. We were happy with the high fives, until a member pointed out, "We're not the first. Look around, God's been here!"
What gave me the most satisfaction is my interaction with other people, namely in Boy Scouts; and passing on knowledge and experiences to others was what I felt I should be doing as I fit in perfectly to that endeavor. With the high adventure programs I ran, I was glad to have the constitution to accept the liability that other lives were in my hands.
I was also glad that the few problems were close calls and not a major incident; but what a shame to see those programs shut down because of cowardly minds no able to accept the minute liabilities that could come to them. To see a fully functioning Boy Scout slowly die as the older kids left and new adults come in unwelcoming all that remained in and made the troop great.
My greatest joy I discovered is what I term, "Creationistic Evolution," which seems to work in my life. I easily grew tired of the arguments over creationism and evolution. Ok, one side says the world and life was started by God's hand, the other a spark; sort of one in the same by me; especially if you find yourself struck by lightning!
It fits in with, dreams never truly die. All the projects and skills I acquired yet were put aside because either the dream wasn't practical for me, or circumstances came about where I had to put them away.
I was amazed at just how much those talents recombine when needed, which is especially true with my latest discovery, my poetic writings! While not being successful at being a money maker for me, people's appreciation has provided me with what money is purported to supply you with; true joy and knowing what you wrote benefitted someone.
What I love about writing is, not only does it challenge me to the point, I have to give it all I got. It is just as much an adventure and exploration as climbing that mountain and to me, requires as much mental aptitude and resourcefulness. I love the process of getting a thought or idea you want to convey, or creating a mood so the person sees something different, into a way people are a bit awed by it and see something in a different light.
What I appreciated the most about my life is the absolute sheer dynamics of it, which I think is bolstered with a bit of gifting myself out for other's benefit. I saw this more as a process where I would get life all figured out to my satisfaction, then it always seemed that God would grab me by the nape of my neck and insist, "Oh yea, guess again!"
Some of the areas of my life, I was that mountaineering explorer where not only no one has been, but the conditions are not known either. It has required from me, every bit spirit and determination that I could muster; and courage, but more so, the will to press on with complete acceptance of the hardships and the real possibilities of mortal failure.
The cruelest thing in my life was perusing that love in my life, Jean; who always had a place by my side. I can't explain that sudden urgency to really try, but there is nothing crueler then praying for the opportunity to convey it to her, seconds later finding her, and not only displaying that love to her, but making the case of it; only to find then next time you say those words, "I love you" ... She's in a coffin because she was struck and killed by a drunk driver and since she never rejected you, you don't know whether she truly loved you or not.
That would be such a profound experience; it would be ten years later until you rediscovered all those memories that told you why you loved her. Then the greatest injustice you witnessed, no one's fault, but the cold and harsh facts of life. Finding your life changed once again on a dime, because your mother suffered a cardiac arrest at home, survived, but with severe brain damage and ultimately couldn't be cared for at home.
Even though you devoted your life to at least make the attempt of her care possible, to see so many people you love and respect; to actually hasten Mom's demise. This came about because they sympathized with a vengeful mother and not applying understanding of the total picture instead. It is no fun, watching your mother suffer everyday for eighteen years, knowing you can never return that immense love and care that she had for you.
Or attempting to apply those feelings of love to others, and not only see them received with a negative return, but to be taken advantage of, or having disproportionate ramifications that in no way, should they have had.
My biggest mistake was getting married to Rita, and in the end I fault myself. I knew about her and her plights for years, as well how she contributed to them; yet I became interested and dated her, ultimately to marry her. I felt my time clock was ticking and though I understood the risks, felt she had come a long way so the risk was worth taking, but it wasn't a satisfying journey as a lot became evident as the marriage progressed.
I felt she had unfair expectations and idealism that put tremendous pressures on me, as well her lack of contributions as what I would term, "The family as a whole." Alone, having to deal with the constant tumult and moodiness and if she wasn't happy, no one would be either. Made even more severe as I felt, she always felt she deserved better.
No doubt I wasn't happy to be the person that I ended up becoming, or walking away as much as I did and when she said she was doing her own thing and declared the marriage null and void, I considered it a step in the right direction.
Yet, I have no regrets about getting married, or bitterness towards Rita; though I must admit I don't really permit any conversations more than a minute or two, sort of an enjoyable control I never had in the actual marriage.
Though the marriage was doomed to fail, I was happy to maintain the qualities to see it though. It very quickly changed to having to serve a wife, to attempt to struggle to do what is best in regards to my step children, and it was there I felt that God would be judging me on.
I wasn't supposed to settle to get Rita out of the house, it was insisted upon that I be an absolute bastard; even if it involved starving and freezing out her children. I felt there was no morally permissible way to do that, but it came close to me changing my mind. Luckily I sensed the house had turned bad, and Rita picked up on that too; which finally got us to a rational settlement so she could leave.
I lived in a world of stupid, in fact my first two scoutmasters called me that so much, I stopped answering to Michael. They would be considered abusive by today's standards, but they always let you know just how much they cared. Something not usually done today either.
There were those moments, which I knew I had put myself in a life threatening situation, such as lighting a firework (basically a bomb) with a trail of firecracker powder and my head inches from the paper. Luckily, I lit it just right or ...
The biggest stupid I did was in putting principle above the ire of The Boss Man to stay away from Robin; then sending it over the top with my first attributed poem regarding love. My favorite time with Robin was when The Boss Man was on vacation and we struck a rapport, but when he came back and expressed his disapproval, I should have left by a different door and had nothing to do with her.
I was happy when she agreed to read, my second incarnation of this book, and between The Boss Man's disapproval and her not giving me the criticism I desired, should have left well enough alone.
All I ever asked of Robin is to let me know when she was leaving to work for the FBI, and to be straight with me, so even if emotional, I could thank her for being there and wish her well. On her actual last day, that she didn't announce she was leaving; goes through my mind as a constant, agonizing regret. I see here handing me my work, and saying that she no longer has the time to read it and my angry and hurt response of snatching the envelope and said, "That's just great! Now I feel like an asshole."
If she had leveled with me, "Mike, I can't read it, this is my last day of work here." It would have generated a completely different response. Basically me totally breaking down and crying, maybe getting a hug out of the deal and at least being able to get my thanks and best wishes for her in. Had that happened though, I never would have found the inspiration towards writing, nor had any of the adventure as I did, as well find the immense value my life actually holds.
In the end, with what happened to me regarding the promise of paying for the family medical care being broken and it causing so many problems that I damn near lost the house, there was a little redemption in it for The Boss Man. When you get tax notices and bill, you pretty much figure out you are going to get nailed and the best I could do is stall for a month, when I needed a couple more years.
I figured the IRS would simply put a lean on the house, but instead sent a wage garnishment order to my employer. I figured I was screwed, and didn't think of using any profit sharing money because the employer told me they would never consider it. They came to me with the wage garnishment information, and I told them to do what they have to. "But you will be left with so little, you'll lose everything."
I told them that I don't care and what will happen, will happen. I didn't tell them about my plans to relocate. Instead they asked what caused the situation and even though I honestly told them, it became, "My opinion," and also what I will need to fix things. I told them everything in the profit sharing plan to be sent to federal and state taxes.
I got the amount the IRS was asking for as well their calculations in what I would owe in taxes from the profit sharing withdraw, but they low balled it so it will only delay and come back again. They said the way I told them it worked created the situation you could never figure out what you owe. I've been through this several times and they didn't believe me, but The Boss Man got to inform me, "You are a criminal now." Still it was a great help I never thought was available.
What always still fascinates me about my life is the role the paranormal has played in it. Believe me, that I always seek out the most practical and rational explanation that I possibly can. My joy is in my split second ability at debunking such phenomena, which is bolstered by my desire and even skills I picked up from photography and working with that trying to capture nature on film.
The problem is, that you are great at debunking things and can be a showman at times with this as suddenly someone around you looks like they just saw a ghost, so you ask them if they saw it to and they freak even more. "No, that wasn't a ghost, this is what it is ..." as you point out the items that registered in their minds as a ghost. The curse with gaining the talent and ability to debunk things is, when you can't! It just sticks inside you that much more.
My first memory still haunts me, as at age 4, we were in a line of people leaving the Cathedral in Washington, DC with a priest giving a blessing and touching people with knotted robe belt. Until he got to me and ran that rope belt across my back like it was a lash from a whip. Afterwards going home and seeing a robe and hooded shadow figure turn and look at me as we pulled into the back patio.
It was only a short time afterwards, returning home from another family trip to Lancaster, that I watched my grandfather die, out on the back steps of where I now live. Then a couple years later, seeing the same hooded shadow figure shoot through the yards, then find out the next day that a neighbor down the street died.
I didn't see my first illustration of the Grim Reaper until age twelve and when I did and read the explanation, it completely boggled my mind. I never saw a priest actually wear the hood on that type or robe and didn't even consider it such, until age eighteen when I had my own hooded robe made up for a stage costume.
With anything paranormal, I do have to consider the possibility that my visualization skills are so powerful that I am actually superimposing a thought into what I am experiencing on a sensory basis. When I felt that much missed hand on my shoulder as I lamented in reference to Mr. Quinn who had died years ago, I figured that comforting and enjoyable hand was just that, my thoughts being manifested as if they were real.
Then that hand went right through me and put me in a state of instant hypothermia; I packed up, clocked out and got the hell out of there. Then before that, my experience at the Shrine of Elizabeth Ann Seton in Emmitsburg, Maryland while kneeling at her coffin.
"Mother Seton, you have a fine Basilica dedicated to you."
I never expected to hear in the most peculiar and unique woman's voice, "Yes it is, but the money would have better used for the poor!"
"Bitch!" Immediately I had the sensation of a thumb being jammed into my back and ran up it. I jumped back from that coffin and would have run out of there had Rita not stopped me. There too, the experience would haunt me as I realized there were other such events that came before my bow. Enough so, I felt it best to contact the Holy See and report them with I believe a suggestion of who would conduct future tests in reference to her.
Most such events, while unexplainable are handled with a certain sense of humor and grain of salt. Such as the time I heard a noise at the cat door in basement door, and watched an orange shadow go shooting though the room and out the front bay window. But then again, why did both animals watch and follow this too? I even messed with me making the same movement with my head and the animals could have cared less.
As far as any poltergeist activity, at best it has been fleeting and unimpressive. But what I have experienced in my dreams has left me paralyzed in bed for a good half hour, as Poe would say, "Trapped within one's own mind to ponder what they experienced..." I consider them just that, real good nightmares!
Then again, why in a dream would I experience a spectral haunting in my house as I was chasing around a problem I felt existed, to tell the forming apparition, "Oh come on, I had enough of this haunting bullshit!" Then twenty minutes after waking, finding a neighbor's body in their yard, with others seemingly guided to the discovery in some strange way...
Another dream I had happened at the house I grew up on. I was dreaming of walking in the woods when I heard this strange ethereal music and these fire spirits started to dance with me. I danced with them in this trance like state until one touched me and I woke up in an instant feeling feverish and unable to breathe.
I attempted to get out of bed and instead, flopped on the floor and realizing I was paralyzed on my left side, had to desperately use the wall to walk to and open the bathroom window, where I found instant relief. I suspected a carbon monoxide problem, but no one could verify it. It would be ten years later that my sister, now living there, had found out that my father had the fireplace flue cemented over, but they did the flue to the furnace instead.
A ghostly warning, or my mind trying to communicate to me I was about to die? It not only saved my life that time, but one other as a spiritually, uncontrollable urge to smoke in the middle of the night revealed a smoked out basement with solvent laden rags about to burst into flames.
To me, my burning bush experiences are the most phenomenally impacting and unexplainable because of the circumstances that seemingly brought them about. I did have a favorite day with my mother, and having nothing to do we just sat and talked to each other while she did her handicrafts.
I found it amazing Mom showed her total love and dedication to raising us, as well, the principles and philosophies behind them. She mentioned she was so happy to have just completed reading the Bible, and expressed it gave her comfort and confidence that she did the job as mother and wife, because she always wanted to do so in a Biblical manner.
Then she added a Mickey, when she expressed her wish not to be put on life support of any kind. My parents planed to put it in legal writing, as well should she be put on life support. She expected me to be the one to remove her from it in any way possible and knowing the consequences for me, however, she felt the Lord would be with me...
...Then two weeks later, waking up to the hell of a mother in cardiac arrest in the living room. I got lost in the hospital and spied Mom being bagged as they transported her from the Emergency Room to the CCU. It went beyond instinct to carry out my mother's wishes, but in the split second of planting my foot to kick over the respirator, I honestly believed God intervened with a message heard though every cell of my body, "You are expected to deal with this, and you will fail! But you are expected none the less."
Had I do it to do over again, I would have ignored the message and kicked over that respirator; dropping at least two or three of the staff and sending the others to get security while I crushed my mother's throat! I have a feeling that possibility was planned for as I was frozen in place, except my neck and head to see Mom being wheeled right by.
As the social worker put it, "Welcome to the world of mega stress!" The when she was home and being cared for, the hours of prayer to God to let me face Jesus so I can tell Him a thing or two! I got my wish, and it didn't go well for me, as whether it was a vision, dream or delusion; it came with the message not to make demands of Them, but to do what they demand for me!
At least there isn't a passage in the New Testament of, "And upon Jesus' infuriated wakened graze, the naketh white man ran away from Jesus' encampment as he received his message." Then the final burning bush experience as I was in the park petitioning the Lord for the power of miracle to save my marriage to show God I am committed to the end. At that point a fifteen foot detailed, but not in any way identifiable form, informed me in the same manor, "I am walking away from this relationship ... And you do to ... When you are ready!"
Being sort of used to these things, all I could think to say is, "I'm fucked!" It would be another year in a half spent to try to right a run away and out of control step daughter, and get her to the point she won't do something that gets herself killed and boy was it an adventure! Then to have the patience of waiting for the wife to be in a position to negotiate to get the hell out of the house, instead of using it for a base of operations for her alter ego.
As a boy, most pastors admired me for my spiritualistic aptitude and command, but I was more worried about failing God's judgment, especially in question if all that stuff in the Bible was real. I was most comfortable with my religious beliefs when I bought Joseph Campbell's video on comparative mythology express his beliefs that the stories in the Bible were actually fairy tales for adults.
Then the discovery, they aren't fairy tales, but real and came still happen. Such burning bush experiences can really make you feel picked on, but you get just enough to survive and squeak though. Such courage is needed with writing, as there is that element of applying total faith in what you do.
Who the hell wants to write an anti-terrorism poem? I may hold posting it even after I wrote it, but I make the case to myself,I have discovered something from a completely unique and new manner and it must be related to others. The final arbiter is, "Can you live with yourself if you don't?" Same for me with love poems these days...
There are many explanations for ghostly phenomena from science, to metaphysics, the psychological, and religious. There are so many theories who have some valid considerations to ponder. I needn't the waste of time or the headaches of such pursuits so I chalk it all up to the Heavenly realm. There are many explanations on Heaven and what that is as well, but I feel one sentence from God is more explanatory then the greatest volumes of publications.
Very often religion is not a spiritual pursuit, but simply a practice that is stressed. Often the more spiritually oriented are often looked down upon. While I feel mainly Christian in beliefs, something from just about every religion has benefited me greatly. Stuck on a mountain doing nature photography in 103 degree weather in one position for hours, Zen meditations come in rather handy.
I loved the activities I did such as nature photography, mountaineering, and caving, because you had to reach so far outside of yourself and fit you into environments you were not supposed to be in, and the same goes for writing as well.
I feel there are far more ghostly encounters with living people in your life, as people and faces come and go. If they make your appearance for a brief minute, and in some small way, they provide for you something that completely changes or course or conception of life. You just knew you were supposed to meet each other.
Like the woman I encountered at the convention, who I wanted to dine with at the banquet only to lose that possibility, and dine with another ... Who turned out to be her! Then discovering that another person there and closest to me, was also her and what I believed was a wonderful relationship on the site I wrote on at that time.
She became one of the most important people to me for a while, and without her, I wouldn't be the writer I turned out to be. As soon as I looked into her eyes on the transport bus, I knew we were supposed to meet and thankful that we did.
But any talk of a relationship sent her into a total panic, and while she ungraciously cut those ties at the next convention, the thought still persists with me, she should have remained in my life as a friend. Had she been able to accept that and been the actual person she was, somehow it would have benefitted both of us, even if only distant writing friends.
I did learn more about her, and tracked down several threads which make sense. There was a hint she did a little acting as another member gave me the heads up and the character was as nutty as she actually is. She is big in writing and discovering her as editor in some of my cookbooks made me a happy little dough boy.
I couldn't resist alerting the writing site, and said I found Hugh's sloppy seconds on a Playboy video tape, and suddenly a humorous poem popped up talking about the fool who is chasing mirages. Well I looked at the video tape and that blond a buxom Playboy Bunny was definitely not her.
However the biggest hint is on the thumbnail sized people on the cover at the Playboy Mansion. Same red hair, same facial structure and eyes; as well freckles so big you can still see them despite how small the image was. It isn't hard to image she was part of the Playboy production crew and got a whale of an idea, "Honey, you don't want to use your real name. Hey, why don't us use mine!"
I also did feel that she had a lot to do with the site I wrote on as I also found a book with poetry and it matched many of the moods the site had, as well another author with her same name, also appeared as a photograph for one of the other members. Since this book was dealing with a child's disease, I figured the Convention Woman penned it, and the lady pictured was one of the care givers.
Other people entering into your life are just as profound as a poltergeist experience as they come into it in a totally unanticipated manner and really shake it up! Such as the Palestinian family who gave me my greatest compliment, "Perhaps, God might appreciate you honesty."
With seeing one of their girls walking funny with her hands out, and since her mother appeared to have no face, I walked up and intended to ask her, but wasn't prepared for the girl's reaction which sent waves of love though me and would take three months alone to figure it all out.
From the start, I knew I wasn't in love with her. I didn't even know her, yet every time I remembered that look, I felt nothing but love. Trying to figure it out was driving me crazy as each day; I would try and try again. I finally lamented, "God, I just can't figure it out."
That was when I heard Jean's voice as if she was standing next to me say, "Mike, don't you remember? You saw that look before." As if I was instantly touched, the bit of memory came forth of the last day I saw Jean alive. There to, praying to God that I find her and have the opportunity, courage and the words to tell her I love her.
I didn't expect to walk right out of the door, and have to hit her in the back of the head to get her attention before she walked into the girl's bathroom, or the magical words to get the same reaction the Muslim girl had was, "Jean, you're beautiful and I want you to model for me!" Since, she said, "No," I walked into the bathroom after her and instead of my usual words for reluctant models, but instead stated, "Jesus Christ, Jean! Can't we do something together, I love you!"
Then the petition upon bent knee with a stall door as the chaperone to state you case. I did believe I drew a little attention from the Palestinian girl, but that is not the way they do things and sure enough the hubbub was indeed an arranged marriage. Then during that time Mom deciding to rush me with my only thought, "Bring it on woman, you'll be the best fight I ever had!"
Little did I know a year later, they would once again fit into my life in a whacky way as my quest for Indian cooking led to me learning to cook Halal. I managed to catch her sister and beg her attention and she seemed prepared as if I was going to ask her out or ask about her sister, as that seemed to be the stance with, "Yes." I suddenly wanted to ask her out just to see how she would deal with a pervert.
Then she got this, What the hell? look on her face when I started talking about Indian cooking and Halal, but was gracious enough to explain she was Palestinian and told me to knock on their door and talk to her mother. Enter a befuddled man who had no idea about Halal cooking, or intention to let me meet his wife, his struggle to explain what he knew, making me realize I knew more than he did.
I loved the man as he was definitely a proponent of Islam and told me the fallacies of my Christian beliefs, and making my defence harder is that is he was using waht many Christians express. I enjoyed the spirit of this challenge and defended myself and beliefs with the Apostle's Creed, starting with, "I believe in one God, the father, the almighty..." He didn't like the part about forgiving trespasses though.
My favorite time was when he attempted to convert me to Islam and mistook my tolerance for interest. I had to stop him and say, "Don't you remember, my faith starts with, 'I believe in one God, the father...' I feel obligated to listen to Him and I feel he believes he expects me to do my part and speak when I feel it is necessary. Is Islam prepared to receive its Christ?"
I think he had the same image as me put into his mind, of his name being in the Holy Quran, under responsible party; he no longer thought the idea was a very good one.
Or, knowing what he will say about the Israeli rocket attacks by being prepared with a satellite image of our area and threatening to model rocket attack him. I used his threat to call the police if I do, as a way to describe the state of Israel, the Palestinians as well used the police as an example of the United Nations.
Then he asked a question about becoming a Palestinian country, and I responded; "There are three types of borders; economic, cultural and geographical. If I was Palestinian and had the same soul, I would want what is best for me and my family's success. I would want to be a citizen of Israel because they are a democracy, have a good economy and protect one's religious beliefs and cultural practices, provided they are within reason."
He respectfully said, "Perhaps God will appreciate your honesty." Never told him, that's who I asked for the words. He did something rare for a Muslim and always referred to me as a man of faith to his friends; but I did wonder if that was the polite way to tell his friends, "Leave him alone, he'll mess with your head."
But there is nothing like feeling a pat on the back from God with the demand, "Give it to him." As the next time he saw me, he insisted that not only were the Palestinians there first, but Islam as well.
"Oh, come on Joama, perhaps if your knowledge of history starts in the 1930's! Whose mosque is built on whose temple foundation? Palestine is mentioned in the Bible, but more alongside and not on top of Israel, the borders have all changed!"
"It says the Jews wandered in the desert for forty years, but I don't believe it was because of sin, but that was how long it took them to buy and earn Israel though treaty!"
So many people came into my life and touched it, and even with things went wrong, I somehow remembered the good or the intentions. From time to time, I do spirit keep to remind me of the many people who entered my life and either help me with mine or gave my life meaning; no matter if only a fleeting face or fleeing one as something goes wrong.
(Continued Next Chapter)
At this point in this book, I ran into a severe problem and it took months to figure out that a biographical work is near impossible to conclude because I still am alive. The last two chapters took over ten months to complete for some very simple reasons. The events are so fresh in one's mind enough time hasn't elapsed yet to not only organize them, or to see how they will affect your life.
Then you spend the odd month to pen them onto paper, or type them into your computer. The trepidation is here, you seem to want to present the most positive light with a positive message, but that wasn't what this book was about, as I felt I had commentary that the world needed to consider.
My simple prayer to God was to give me what I need to bring this book to a successful conclusion, and when a story came along that just about ties everything up, you praise God in your prayers!
Then you walk away, knowing that instead, you have the perfect story to conclude your book and now see the Son-of-a-bitch element that can be found in God. You didn't get what you needed to paint that positive picture for people to consider, you got the story that was the original reason you started writing this book, someone has to say something.
Before we summarize, what I consider the trail of tears, I have to say that I have learned to love life and have a wonderful sense of what it is about. I have a place in it as well for other people's lives that touched mine, be it for a few minutes, over a life span; be it constantly or intermittently.
I think the best thing I picked up in life is also the best one to relay, "Dreams don't die!" and will come back into your life even though circumstance dictated you shelve them; provided you never forget about them. I wanted to be a mountaineer and explorer, to wade through a frozen hell with that possibility I will die.
That was the first dream I gave up, because my father insisted on it as virtue is the practical of hard work and worship. While I knew I had no chance of a major mountain trek, I still loved camping and still had the fortitude to try in smaller ways, even if only to pass on the spirit to others.
OK, I also did it to needle my old man with just enough rebellion to communicate to him, I am still trying. To me, when I got my technical mountaineering equipment and hung it up on the basement wall, it was priceless to see the look of total disbelief and astonishment when he said, "Jesus Christ Mike, you have enough stuff hanging up to do a major assault on an installation."
While he thought my remaining in Scouts was a childish endeavor, he knew by my sheer exhaustion after I returned. "I discovered the weather report from the area you camped at said, 'Life Threatening Conditions,' I was sure you were out having fun in it. I wasn't worried about you because if I was God, I wouldn't want to have to deal with you."
I figured with all that was already explored, I would never be involved with a discovery of my own and didn't even consider it. It wouldn't be on the earth this would change, but deep in the earth. Even with caving, I wasn't involved with an academic cave group and the caves we enjoyed were always mapped out.
My favorite was mapped out by a New York caving group, but the owner wouldn't permit them to return because of their behavior. We were permitted and it turned out to be a wonderful feeling to realize that we not only werre in an area they hadn't mapped out, there were no footprints or scuff marks in the passages and we knew we were the first. We were happy with the high fives, until a member pointed out, "We're not the first. Look around, God's been here!"
What gave me the most satisfaction is my interaction with other people, namely in Boy Scouts; and passing on knowledge and experiences to others was what I felt I should be doing as I fit in perfectly to that endeavor. With the high adventure programs I ran, I was glad to have the constitution to accept the liability that other lives were in my hands.
I was also glad that the few problems were close calls and not a major incident; but what a shame to see those programs shut down because of cowardly minds no able to accept the minute liabilities that could come to them. To see a fully functioning Boy Scout slowly die as the older kids left and new adults come in unwelcoming all that remained in and made the troop great.
My greatest joy I discovered is what I term, "Creationistic Evolution," which seems to work in my life. I easily grew tired of the arguments over creationism and evolution. Ok, one side says the world and life was started by God's hand, the other a spark; sort of one in the same by me; especially if you find yourself struck by lightning!
It fits in with, dreams never truly die. All the projects and skills I acquired yet were put aside because either the dream wasn't practical for me, or circumstances came about where I had to put them away.
I was amazed at just how much those talents recombine when needed, which is especially true with my latest discovery, my poetic writings! While not being successful at being a money maker for me, people's appreciation has provided me with what money is purported to supply you with; true joy and knowing what you wrote benefitted someone.
What I love about writing is, not only does it challenge me to the point, I have to give it all I got. It is just as much an adventure and exploration as climbing that mountain and to me, requires as much mental aptitude and resourcefulness. I love the process of getting a thought or idea you want to convey, or creating a mood so the person sees something different, into a way people are a bit awed by it and see something in a different light.
What I appreciated the most about my life is the absolute sheer dynamics of it, which I think is bolstered with a bit of gifting myself out for other's benefit. I saw this more as a process where I would get life all figured out to my satisfaction, then it always seemed that God would grab me by the nape of my neck and insist, "Oh yea, guess again!"
Some of the areas of my life, I was that mountaineering explorer where not only no one has been, but the conditions are not known either. It has required from me, every bit spirit and determination that I could muster; and courage, but more so, the will to press on with complete acceptance of the hardships and the real possibilities of mortal failure.
The cruelest thing in my life was perusing that love in my life, Jean; who always had a place by my side. I can't explain that sudden urgency to really try, but there is nothing crueler then praying for the opportunity to convey it to her, seconds later finding her, and not only displaying that love to her, but making the case of it; only to find then next time you say those words, "I love you" ... She's in a coffin because she was struck and killed by a drunk driver and since she never rejected you, you don't know whether she truly loved you or not.
That would be such a profound experience; it would be ten years later until you rediscovered all those memories that told you why you loved her. Then the greatest injustice you witnessed, no one's fault, but the cold and harsh facts of life. Finding your life changed once again on a dime, because your mother suffered a cardiac arrest at home, survived, but with severe brain damage and ultimately couldn't be cared for at home.
Even though you devoted your life to at least make the attempt of her care possible, to see so many people you love and respect; to actually hasten Mom's demise. This came about because they sympathized with a vengeful mother and not applying understanding of the total picture instead. It is no fun, watching your mother suffer everyday for eighteen years, knowing you can never return that immense love and care that she had for you.
Or attempting to apply those feelings of love to others, and not only see them received with a negative return, but to be taken advantage of, or having disproportionate ramifications that in no way, should they have had.
My biggest mistake was getting married to Rita, and in the end I fault myself. I knew about her and her plights for years, as well how she contributed to them; yet I became interested and dated her, ultimately to marry her. I felt my time clock was ticking and though I understood the risks, felt she had come a long way so the risk was worth taking, but it wasn't a satisfying journey as a lot became evident as the marriage progressed.
I felt she had unfair expectations and idealism that put tremendous pressures on me, as well her lack of contributions as what I would term, "The family as a whole." Alone, having to deal with the constant tumult and moodiness and if she wasn't happy, no one would be either. Made even more severe as I felt, she always felt she deserved better.
No doubt I wasn't happy to be the person that I ended up becoming, or walking away as much as I did and when she said she was doing her own thing and declared the marriage null and void, I considered it a step in the right direction.
Yet, I have no regrets about getting married, or bitterness towards Rita; though I must admit I don't really permit any conversations more than a minute or two, sort of an enjoyable control I never had in the actual marriage.
Though the marriage was doomed to fail, I was happy to maintain the qualities to see it though. It very quickly changed to having to serve a wife, to attempt to struggle to do what is best in regards to my step children, and it was there I felt that God would be judging me on.
I wasn't supposed to settle to get Rita out of the house, it was insisted upon that I be an absolute bastard; even if it involved starving and freezing out her children. I felt there was no morally permissible way to do that, but it came close to me changing my mind. Luckily I sensed the house had turned bad, and Rita picked up on that too; which finally got us to a rational settlement so she could leave.
I lived in a world of stupid, in fact my first two scoutmasters called me that so much, I stopped answering to Michael. They would be considered abusive by today's standards, but they always let you know just how much they cared. Something not usually done today either.
There were those moments, which I knew I had put myself in a life threatening situation, such as lighting a firework (basically a bomb) with a trail of firecracker powder and my head inches from the paper. Luckily, I lit it just right or ...
The biggest stupid I did was in putting principle above the ire of The Boss Man to stay away from Robin; then sending it over the top with my first attributed poem regarding love. My favorite time with Robin was when The Boss Man was on vacation and we struck a rapport, but when he came back and expressed his disapproval, I should have left by a different door and had nothing to do with her.
I was happy when she agreed to read, my second incarnation of this book, and between The Boss Man's disapproval and her not giving me the criticism I desired, should have left well enough alone.
All I ever asked of Robin is to let me know when she was leaving to work for the FBI, and to be straight with me, so even if emotional, I could thank her for being there and wish her well. On her actual last day, that she didn't announce she was leaving; goes through my mind as a constant, agonizing regret. I see here handing me my work, and saying that she no longer has the time to read it and my angry and hurt response of snatching the envelope and said, "That's just great! Now I feel like an asshole."
If she had leveled with me, "Mike, I can't read it, this is my last day of work here." It would have generated a completely different response. Basically me totally breaking down and crying, maybe getting a hug out of the deal and at least being able to get my thanks and best wishes for her in. Had that happened though, I never would have found the inspiration towards writing, nor had any of the adventure as I did, as well find the immense value my life actually holds.
In the end, with what happened to me regarding the promise of paying for the family medical care being broken and it causing so many problems that I damn near lost the house, there was a little redemption in it for The Boss Man. When you get tax notices and bill, you pretty much figure out you are going to get nailed and the best I could do is stall for a month, when I needed a couple more years.
I figured the IRS would simply put a lean on the house, but instead sent a wage garnishment order to my employer. I figured I was screwed, and didn't think of using any profit sharing money because the employer told me they would never consider it. They came to me with the wage garnishment information, and I told them to do what they have to. "But you will be left with so little, you'll lose everything."
I told them that I don't care and what will happen, will happen. I didn't tell them about my plans to relocate. Instead they asked what caused the situation and even though I honestly told them, it became, "My opinion," and also what I will need to fix things. I told them everything in the profit sharing plan to be sent to federal and state taxes.
I got the amount the IRS was asking for as well their calculations in what I would owe in taxes from the profit sharing withdraw, but they low balled it so it will only delay and come back again. They said the way I told them it worked created the situation you could never figure out what you owe. I've been through this several times and they didn't believe me, but The Boss Man got to inform me, "You are a criminal now." Still it was a great help I never thought was available.
What always still fascinates me about my life is the role the paranormal has played in it. Believe me, that I always seek out the most practical and rational explanation that I possibly can. My joy is in my split second ability at debunking such phenomena, which is bolstered by my desire and even skills I picked up from photography and working with that trying to capture nature on film.
The problem is, that you are great at debunking things and can be a showman at times with this as suddenly someone around you looks like they just saw a ghost, so you ask them if they saw it to and they freak even more. "No, that wasn't a ghost, this is what it is ..." as you point out the items that registered in their minds as a ghost. The curse with gaining the talent and ability to debunk things is, when you can't! It just sticks inside you that much more.
My first memory still haunts me, as at age 4, we were in a line of people leaving the Cathedral in Washington, DC with a priest giving a blessing and touching people with knotted robe belt. Until he got to me and ran that rope belt across my back like it was a lash from a whip. Afterwards going home and seeing a robe and hooded shadow figure turn and look at me as we pulled into the back patio.
It was only a short time afterwards, returning home from another family trip to Lancaster, that I watched my grandfather die, out on the back steps of where I now live. Then a couple years later, seeing the same hooded shadow figure shoot through the yards, then find out the next day that a neighbor down the street died.
I didn't see my first illustration of the Grim Reaper until age twelve and when I did and read the explanation, it completely boggled my mind. I never saw a priest actually wear the hood on that type or robe and didn't even consider it such, until age eighteen when I had my own hooded robe made up for a stage costume.
With anything paranormal, I do have to consider the possibility that my visualization skills are so powerful that I am actually superimposing a thought into what I am experiencing on a sensory basis. When I felt that much missed hand on my shoulder as I lamented in reference to Mr. Quinn who had died years ago, I figured that comforting and enjoyable hand was just that, my thoughts being manifested as if they were real.
Then that hand went right through me and put me in a state of instant hypothermia; I packed up, clocked out and got the hell out of there. Then before that, my experience at the Shrine of Elizabeth Ann Seton in Emmitsburg, Maryland while kneeling at her coffin.
"Mother Seton, you have a fine Basilica dedicated to you."
I never expected to hear in the most peculiar and unique woman's voice, "Yes it is, but the money would have better used for the poor!"
"Bitch!" Immediately I had the sensation of a thumb being jammed into my back and ran up it. I jumped back from that coffin and would have run out of there had Rita not stopped me. There too, the experience would haunt me as I realized there were other such events that came before my bow. Enough so, I felt it best to contact the Holy See and report them with I believe a suggestion of who would conduct future tests in reference to her.
Most such events, while unexplainable are handled with a certain sense of humor and grain of salt. Such as the time I heard a noise at the cat door in basement door, and watched an orange shadow go shooting though the room and out the front bay window. But then again, why did both animals watch and follow this too? I even messed with me making the same movement with my head and the animals could have cared less.
As far as any poltergeist activity, at best it has been fleeting and unimpressive. But what I have experienced in my dreams has left me paralyzed in bed for a good half hour, as Poe would say, "Trapped within one's own mind to ponder what they experienced..." I consider them just that, real good nightmares!
Then again, why in a dream would I experience a spectral haunting in my house as I was chasing around a problem I felt existed, to tell the forming apparition, "Oh come on, I had enough of this haunting bullshit!" Then twenty minutes after waking, finding a neighbor's body in their yard, with others seemingly guided to the discovery in some strange way...
Another dream I had happened at the house I grew up on. I was dreaming of walking in the woods when I heard this strange ethereal music and these fire spirits started to dance with me. I danced with them in this trance like state until one touched me and I woke up in an instant feeling feverish and unable to breathe.
I attempted to get out of bed and instead, flopped on the floor and realizing I was paralyzed on my left side, had to desperately use the wall to walk to and open the bathroom window, where I found instant relief. I suspected a carbon monoxide problem, but no one could verify it. It would be ten years later that my sister, now living there, had found out that my father had the fireplace flue cemented over, but they did the flue to the furnace instead.
A ghostly warning, or my mind trying to communicate to me I was about to die? It not only saved my life that time, but one other as a spiritually, uncontrollable urge to smoke in the middle of the night revealed a smoked out basement with solvent laden rags about to burst into flames.
To me, my burning bush experiences are the most phenomenally impacting and unexplainable because of the circumstances that seemingly brought them about. I did have a favorite day with my mother, and having nothing to do we just sat and talked to each other while she did her handicrafts.
I found it amazing Mom showed her total love and dedication to raising us, as well, the principles and philosophies behind them. She mentioned she was so happy to have just completed reading the Bible, and expressed it gave her comfort and confidence that she did the job as mother and wife, because she always wanted to do so in a Biblical manner.
Then she added a Mickey, when she expressed her wish not to be put on life support of any kind. My parents planed to put it in legal writing, as well should she be put on life support. She expected me to be the one to remove her from it in any way possible and knowing the consequences for me, however, she felt the Lord would be with me...
...Then two weeks later, waking up to the hell of a mother in cardiac arrest in the living room. I got lost in the hospital and spied Mom being bagged as they transported her from the Emergency Room to the CCU. It went beyond instinct to carry out my mother's wishes, but in the split second of planting my foot to kick over the respirator, I honestly believed God intervened with a message heard though every cell of my body, "You are expected to deal with this, and you will fail! But you are expected none the less."
Had I do it to do over again, I would have ignored the message and kicked over that respirator; dropping at least two or three of the staff and sending the others to get security while I crushed my mother's throat! I have a feeling that possibility was planned for as I was frozen in place, except my neck and head to see Mom being wheeled right by.
As the social worker put it, "Welcome to the world of mega stress!" The when she was home and being cared for, the hours of prayer to God to let me face Jesus so I can tell Him a thing or two! I got my wish, and it didn't go well for me, as whether it was a vision, dream or delusion; it came with the message not to make demands of Them, but to do what they demand for me!
At least there isn't a passage in the New Testament of, "And upon Jesus' infuriated wakened graze, the naketh white man ran away from Jesus' encampment as he received his message." Then the final burning bush experience as I was in the park petitioning the Lord for the power of miracle to save my marriage to show God I am committed to the end. At that point a fifteen foot detailed, but not in any way identifiable form, informed me in the same manor, "I am walking away from this relationship ... And you do to ... When you are ready!"
Being sort of used to these things, all I could think to say is, "I'm fucked!" It would be another year in a half spent to try to right a run away and out of control step daughter, and get her to the point she won't do something that gets herself killed and boy was it an adventure! Then to have the patience of waiting for the wife to be in a position to negotiate to get the hell out of the house, instead of using it for a base of operations for her alter ego.
As a boy, most pastors admired me for my spiritualistic aptitude and command, but I was more worried about failing God's judgment, especially in question if all that stuff in the Bible was real. I was most comfortable with my religious beliefs when I bought Joseph Campbell's video on comparative mythology express his beliefs that the stories in the Bible were actually fairy tales for adults.
Then the discovery, they aren't fairy tales, but real and came still happen. Such burning bush experiences can really make you feel picked on, but you get just enough to survive and squeak though. Such courage is needed with writing, as there is that element of applying total faith in what you do.
Who the hell wants to write an anti-terrorism poem? I may hold posting it even after I wrote it, but I make the case to myself,I have discovered something from a completely unique and new manner and it must be related to others. The final arbiter is, "Can you live with yourself if you don't?" Same for me with love poems these days...
There are many explanations for ghostly phenomena from science, to metaphysics, the psychological, and religious. There are so many theories who have some valid considerations to ponder. I needn't the waste of time or the headaches of such pursuits so I chalk it all up to the Heavenly realm. There are many explanations on Heaven and what that is as well, but I feel one sentence from God is more explanatory then the greatest volumes of publications.
Very often religion is not a spiritual pursuit, but simply a practice that is stressed. Often the more spiritually oriented are often looked down upon. While I feel mainly Christian in beliefs, something from just about every religion has benefited me greatly. Stuck on a mountain doing nature photography in 103 degree weather in one position for hours, Zen meditations come in rather handy.
I loved the activities I did such as nature photography, mountaineering, and caving, because you had to reach so far outside of yourself and fit you into environments you were not supposed to be in, and the same goes for writing as well.
I feel there are far more ghostly encounters with living people in your life, as people and faces come and go. If they make your appearance for a brief minute, and in some small way, they provide for you something that completely changes or course or conception of life. You just knew you were supposed to meet each other.
Like the woman I encountered at the convention, who I wanted to dine with at the banquet only to lose that possibility, and dine with another ... Who turned out to be her! Then discovering that another person there and closest to me, was also her and what I believed was a wonderful relationship on the site I wrote on at that time.
She became one of the most important people to me for a while, and without her, I wouldn't be the writer I turned out to be. As soon as I looked into her eyes on the transport bus, I knew we were supposed to meet and thankful that we did.
But any talk of a relationship sent her into a total panic, and while she ungraciously cut those ties at the next convention, the thought still persists with me, she should have remained in my life as a friend. Had she been able to accept that and been the actual person she was, somehow it would have benefitted both of us, even if only distant writing friends.
I did learn more about her, and tracked down several threads which make sense. There was a hint she did a little acting as another member gave me the heads up and the character was as nutty as she actually is. She is big in writing and discovering her as editor in some of my cookbooks made me a happy little dough boy.
I couldn't resist alerting the writing site, and said I found Hugh's sloppy seconds on a Playboy video tape, and suddenly a humorous poem popped up talking about the fool who is chasing mirages. Well I looked at the video tape and that blond a buxom Playboy Bunny was definitely not her.
However the biggest hint is on the thumbnail sized people on the cover at the Playboy Mansion. Same red hair, same facial structure and eyes; as well freckles so big you can still see them despite how small the image was. It isn't hard to image she was part of the Playboy production crew and got a whale of an idea, "Honey, you don't want to use your real name. Hey, why don't us use mine!"
I also did feel that she had a lot to do with the site I wrote on as I also found a book with poetry and it matched many of the moods the site had, as well another author with her same name, also appeared as a photograph for one of the other members. Since this book was dealing with a child's disease, I figured the Convention Woman penned it, and the lady pictured was one of the care givers.
Other people entering into your life are just as profound as a poltergeist experience as they come into it in a totally unanticipated manner and really shake it up! Such as the Palestinian family who gave me my greatest compliment, "Perhaps, God might appreciate you honesty."
With seeing one of their girls walking funny with her hands out, and since her mother appeared to have no face, I walked up and intended to ask her, but wasn't prepared for the girl's reaction which sent waves of love though me and would take three months alone to figure it all out.
From the start, I knew I wasn't in love with her. I didn't even know her, yet every time I remembered that look, I felt nothing but love. Trying to figure it out was driving me crazy as each day; I would try and try again. I finally lamented, "God, I just can't figure it out."
That was when I heard Jean's voice as if she was standing next to me say, "Mike, don't you remember? You saw that look before." As if I was instantly touched, the bit of memory came forth of the last day I saw Jean alive. There to, praying to God that I find her and have the opportunity, courage and the words to tell her I love her.
I didn't expect to walk right out of the door, and have to hit her in the back of the head to get her attention before she walked into the girl's bathroom, or the magical words to get the same reaction the Muslim girl had was, "Jean, you're beautiful and I want you to model for me!" Since, she said, "No," I walked into the bathroom after her and instead of my usual words for reluctant models, but instead stated, "Jesus Christ, Jean! Can't we do something together, I love you!"
Then the petition upon bent knee with a stall door as the chaperone to state you case. I did believe I drew a little attention from the Palestinian girl, but that is not the way they do things and sure enough the hubbub was indeed an arranged marriage. Then during that time Mom deciding to rush me with my only thought, "Bring it on woman, you'll be the best fight I ever had!"
Little did I know a year later, they would once again fit into my life in a whacky way as my quest for Indian cooking led to me learning to cook Halal. I managed to catch her sister and beg her attention and she seemed prepared as if I was going to ask her out or ask about her sister, as that seemed to be the stance with, "Yes." I suddenly wanted to ask her out just to see how she would deal with a pervert.
Then she got this, What the hell? look on her face when I started talking about Indian cooking and Halal, but was gracious enough to explain she was Palestinian and told me to knock on their door and talk to her mother. Enter a befuddled man who had no idea about Halal cooking, or intention to let me meet his wife, his struggle to explain what he knew, making me realize I knew more than he did.
I loved the man as he was definitely a proponent of Islam and told me the fallacies of my Christian beliefs, and making my defence harder is that is he was using waht many Christians express. I enjoyed the spirit of this challenge and defended myself and beliefs with the Apostle's Creed, starting with, "I believe in one God, the father, the almighty..." He didn't like the part about forgiving trespasses though.
My favorite time was when he attempted to convert me to Islam and mistook my tolerance for interest. I had to stop him and say, "Don't you remember, my faith starts with, 'I believe in one God, the father...' I feel obligated to listen to Him and I feel he believes he expects me to do my part and speak when I feel it is necessary. Is Islam prepared to receive its Christ?"
I think he had the same image as me put into his mind, of his name being in the Holy Quran, under responsible party; he no longer thought the idea was a very good one.
Or, knowing what he will say about the Israeli rocket attacks by being prepared with a satellite image of our area and threatening to model rocket attack him. I used his threat to call the police if I do, as a way to describe the state of Israel, the Palestinians as well used the police as an example of the United Nations.
Then he asked a question about becoming a Palestinian country, and I responded; "There are three types of borders; economic, cultural and geographical. If I was Palestinian and had the same soul, I would want what is best for me and my family's success. I would want to be a citizen of Israel because they are a democracy, have a good economy and protect one's religious beliefs and cultural practices, provided they are within reason."
He respectfully said, "Perhaps God will appreciate your honesty." Never told him, that's who I asked for the words. He did something rare for a Muslim and always referred to me as a man of faith to his friends; but I did wonder if that was the polite way to tell his friends, "Leave him alone, he'll mess with your head."
But there is nothing like feeling a pat on the back from God with the demand, "Give it to him." As the next time he saw me, he insisted that not only were the Palestinians there first, but Islam as well.
"Oh, come on Joama, perhaps if your knowledge of history starts in the 1930's! Whose mosque is built on whose temple foundation? Palestine is mentioned in the Bible, but more alongside and not on top of Israel, the borders have all changed!"
"It says the Jews wandered in the desert for forty years, but I don't believe it was because of sin, but that was how long it took them to buy and earn Israel though treaty!"
So many people came into my life and touched it, and even with things went wrong, I somehow remembered the good or the intentions. From time to time, I do spirit keep to remind me of the many people who entered my life and either help me with mine or gave my life meaning; no matter if only a fleeting face or fleeing one as something goes wrong.
(Continued Next Chapter)
Then you spend the odd month to pen them onto paper, or type them into your computer. The trepidation is here, you seem to want to present the most positive light with a positive message, but that wasn't what this book was about, as I felt I had commentary that the world needed to consider.
My simple prayer to God was to give me what I need to bring this book to a successful conclusion, and when a story came along that just about ties everything up, you praise God in your prayers!
Then you walk away, knowing that instead, you have the perfect story to conclude your book and now see the Son-of-a-bitch element that can be found in God. You didn't get what you needed to paint that positive picture for people to consider, you got the story that was the original reason you started writing this book, someone has to say something.
Before we summarize, what I consider the trail of tears, I have to say that I have learned to love life and have a wonderful sense of what it is about. I have a place in it as well for other people's lives that touched mine, be it for a few minutes, over a life span; be it constantly or intermittently.
I think the best thing I picked up in life is also the best one to relay, "Dreams don't die!" and will come back into your life even though circumstance dictated you shelve them; provided you never forget about them. I wanted to be a mountaineer and explorer, to wade through a frozen hell with that possibility I will die.
That was the first dream I gave up, because my father insisted on it as virtue is the practical of hard work and worship. While I knew I had no chance of a major mountain trek, I still loved camping and still had the fortitude to try in smaller ways, even if only to pass on the spirit to others.
OK, I also did it to needle my old man with just enough rebellion to communicate to him, I am still trying. To me, when I got my technical mountaineering equipment and hung it up on the basement wall, it was priceless to see the look of total disbelief and astonishment when he said, "Jesus Christ Mike, you have enough stuff hanging up to do a major assault on an installation."
While he thought my remaining in Scouts was a childish endeavor, he knew by my sheer exhaustion after I returned. "I discovered the weather report from the area you camped at said, 'Life Threatening Conditions,' I was sure you were out having fun in it. I wasn't worried about you because if I was God, I wouldn't want to have to deal with you."
I figured with all that was already explored, I would never be involved with a discovery of my own and didn't even consider it. It wouldn't be on the earth this would change, but deep in the earth. Even with caving, I wasn't involved with an academic cave group and the caves we enjoyed were always mapped out.
My favorite was mapped out by a New York caving group, but the owner wouldn't permit them to return because of their behavior. We were permitted and it turned out to be a wonderful feeling to realize that we not only werre in an area they hadn't mapped out, there were no footprints or scuff marks in the passages and we knew we were the first. We were happy with the high fives, until a member pointed out, "We're not the first. Look around, God's been here!"
What gave me the most satisfaction is my interaction with other people, namely in Boy Scouts; and passing on knowledge and experiences to others was what I felt I should be doing as I fit in perfectly to that endeavor. With the high adventure programs I ran, I was glad to have the constitution to accept the liability that other lives were in my hands.
I was also glad that the few problems were close calls and not a major incident; but what a shame to see those programs shut down because of cowardly minds no able to accept the minute liabilities that could come to them. To see a fully functioning Boy Scout slowly die as the older kids left and new adults come in unwelcoming all that remained in and made the troop great.
My greatest joy I discovered is what I term, "Creationistic Evolution," which seems to work in my life. I easily grew tired of the arguments over creationism and evolution. Ok, one side says the world and life was started by God's hand, the other a spark; sort of one in the same by me; especially if you find yourself struck by lightning!
It fits in with, dreams never truly die. All the projects and skills I acquired yet were put aside because either the dream wasn't practical for me, or circumstances came about where I had to put them away.
I was amazed at just how much those talents recombine when needed, which is especially true with my latest discovery, my poetic writings! While not being successful at being a money maker for me, people's appreciation has provided me with what money is purported to supply you with; true joy and knowing what you wrote benefitted someone.
What I love about writing is, not only does it challenge me to the point, I have to give it all I got. It is just as much an adventure and exploration as climbing that mountain and to me, requires as much mental aptitude and resourcefulness. I love the process of getting a thought or idea you want to convey, or creating a mood so the person sees something different, into a way people are a bit awed by it and see something in a different light.
What I appreciated the most about my life is the absolute sheer dynamics of it, which I think is bolstered with a bit of gifting myself out for other's benefit. I saw this more as a process where I would get life all figured out to my satisfaction, then it always seemed that God would grab me by the nape of my neck and insist, "Oh yea, guess again!"
Some of the areas of my life, I was that mountaineering explorer where not only no one has been, but the conditions are not known either. It has required from me, every bit spirit and determination that I could muster; and courage, but more so, the will to press on with complete acceptance of the hardships and the real possibilities of mortal failure.
The cruelest thing in my life was perusing that love in my life, Jean; who always had a place by my side. I can't explain that sudden urgency to really try, but there is nothing crueler then praying for the opportunity to convey it to her, seconds later finding her, and not only displaying that love to her, but making the case of it; only to find then next time you say those words, "I love you" ... She's in a coffin because she was struck and killed by a drunk driver and since she never rejected you, you don't know whether she truly loved you or not.
That would be such a profound experience; it would be ten years later until you rediscovered all those memories that told you why you loved her. Then the greatest injustice you witnessed, no one's fault, but the cold and harsh facts of life. Finding your life changed once again on a dime, because your mother suffered a cardiac arrest at home, survived, but with severe brain damage and ultimately couldn't be cared for at home.
Even though you devoted your life to at least make the attempt of her care possible, to see so many people you love and respect; to actually hasten Mom's demise. This came about because they sympathized with a vengeful mother and not applying understanding of the total picture instead. It is no fun, watching your mother suffer everyday for eighteen years, knowing you can never return that immense love and care that she had for you.
Or attempting to apply those feelings of love to others, and not only see them received with a negative return, but to be taken advantage of, or having disproportionate ramifications that in no way, should they have had.
My biggest mistake was getting married to Rita, and in the end I fault myself. I knew about her and her plights for years, as well how she contributed to them; yet I became interested and dated her, ultimately to marry her. I felt my time clock was ticking and though I understood the risks, felt she had come a long way so the risk was worth taking, but it wasn't a satisfying journey as a lot became evident as the marriage progressed.
I felt she had unfair expectations and idealism that put tremendous pressures on me, as well her lack of contributions as what I would term, "The family as a whole." Alone, having to deal with the constant tumult and moodiness and if she wasn't happy, no one would be either. Made even more severe as I felt, she always felt she deserved better.
No doubt I wasn't happy to be the person that I ended up becoming, or walking away as much as I did and when she said she was doing her own thing and declared the marriage null and void, I considered it a step in the right direction.
Yet, I have no regrets about getting married, or bitterness towards Rita; though I must admit I don't really permit any conversations more than a minute or two, sort of an enjoyable control I never had in the actual marriage.
Though the marriage was doomed to fail, I was happy to maintain the qualities to see it though. It very quickly changed to having to serve a wife, to attempt to struggle to do what is best in regards to my step children, and it was there I felt that God would be judging me on.
I wasn't supposed to settle to get Rita out of the house, it was insisted upon that I be an absolute bastard; even if it involved starving and freezing out her children. I felt there was no morally permissible way to do that, but it came close to me changing my mind. Luckily I sensed the house had turned bad, and Rita picked up on that too; which finally got us to a rational settlement so she could leave.
I lived in a world of stupid, in fact my first two scoutmasters called me that so much, I stopped answering to Michael. They would be considered abusive by today's standards, but they always let you know just how much they cared. Something not usually done today either.
There were those moments, which I knew I had put myself in a life threatening situation, such as lighting a firework (basically a bomb) with a trail of firecracker powder and my head inches from the paper. Luckily, I lit it just right or ...
The biggest stupid I did was in putting principle above the ire of The Boss Man to stay away from Robin; then sending it over the top with my first attributed poem regarding love. My favorite time with Robin was when The Boss Man was on vacation and we struck a rapport, but when he came back and expressed his disapproval, I should have left by a different door and had nothing to do with her.
I was happy when she agreed to read, my second incarnation of this book, and between The Boss Man's disapproval and her not giving me the criticism I desired, should have left well enough alone.
All I ever asked of Robin is to let me know when she was leaving to work for the FBI, and to be straight with me, so even if emotional, I could thank her for being there and wish her well. On her actual last day, that she didn't announce she was leaving; goes through my mind as a constant, agonizing regret. I see here handing me my work, and saying that she no longer has the time to read it and my angry and hurt response of snatching the envelope and said, "That's just great! Now I feel like an asshole."
If she had leveled with me, "Mike, I can't read it, this is my last day of work here." It would have generated a completely different response. Basically me totally breaking down and crying, maybe getting a hug out of the deal and at least being able to get my thanks and best wishes for her in. Had that happened though, I never would have found the inspiration towards writing, nor had any of the adventure as I did, as well find the immense value my life actually holds.
In the end, with what happened to me regarding the promise of paying for the family medical care being broken and it causing so many problems that I damn near lost the house, there was a little redemption in it for The Boss Man. When you get tax notices and bill, you pretty much figure out you are going to get nailed and the best I could do is stall for a month, when I needed a couple more years.
I figured the IRS would simply put a lean on the house, but instead sent a wage garnishment order to my employer. I figured I was screwed, and didn't think of using any profit sharing money because the employer told me they would never consider it. They came to me with the wage garnishment information, and I told them to do what they have to. "But you will be left with so little, you'll lose everything."
I told them that I don't care and what will happen, will happen. I didn't tell them about my plans to relocate. Instead they asked what caused the situation and even though I honestly told them, it became, "My opinion," and also what I will need to fix things. I told them everything in the profit sharing plan to be sent to federal and state taxes.
I got the amount the IRS was asking for as well their calculations in what I would owe in taxes from the profit sharing withdraw, but they low balled it so it will only delay and come back again. They said the way I told them it worked created the situation you could never figure out what you owe. I've been through this several times and they didn't believe me, but The Boss Man got to inform me, "You are a criminal now." Still it was a great help I never thought was available.
What always still fascinates me about my life is the role the paranormal has played in it. Believe me, that I always seek out the most practical and rational explanation that I possibly can. My joy is in my split second ability at debunking such phenomena, which is bolstered by my desire and even skills I picked up from photography and working with that trying to capture nature on film.
The problem is, that you are great at debunking things and can be a showman at times with this as suddenly someone around you looks like they just saw a ghost, so you ask them if they saw it to and they freak even more. "No, that wasn't a ghost, this is what it is ..." as you point out the items that registered in their minds as a ghost. The curse with gaining the talent and ability to debunk things is, when you can't! It just sticks inside you that much more.
My first memory still haunts me, as at age 4, we were in a line of people leaving the Cathedral in Washington, DC with a priest giving a blessing and touching people with knotted robe belt. Until he got to me and ran that rope belt across my back like it was a lash from a whip. Afterwards going home and seeing a robe and hooded shadow figure turn and look at me as we pulled into the back patio.
It was only a short time afterwards, returning home from another family trip to Lancaster, that I watched my grandfather die, out on the back steps of where I now live. Then a couple years later, seeing the same hooded shadow figure shoot through the yards, then find out the next day that a neighbor down the street died.
I didn't see my first illustration of the Grim Reaper until age twelve and when I did and read the explanation, it completely boggled my mind. I never saw a priest actually wear the hood on that type or robe and didn't even consider it such, until age eighteen when I had my own hooded robe made up for a stage costume.
With anything paranormal, I do have to consider the possibility that my visualization skills are so powerful that I am actually superimposing a thought into what I am experiencing on a sensory basis. When I felt that much missed hand on my shoulder as I lamented in reference to Mr. Quinn who had died years ago, I figured that comforting and enjoyable hand was just that, my thoughts being manifested as if they were real.
Then that hand went right through me and put me in a state of instant hypothermia; I packed up, clocked out and got the hell out of there. Then before that, my experience at the Shrine of Elizabeth Ann Seton in Emmitsburg, Maryland while kneeling at her coffin.
"Mother Seton, you have a fine Basilica dedicated to you."
I never expected to hear in the most peculiar and unique woman's voice, "Yes it is, but the money would have better used for the poor!"
"Bitch!" Immediately I had the sensation of a thumb being jammed into my back and ran up it. I jumped back from that coffin and would have run out of there had Rita not stopped me. There too, the experience would haunt me as I realized there were other such events that came before my bow. Enough so, I felt it best to contact the Holy See and report them with I believe a suggestion of who would conduct future tests in reference to her.
Most such events, while unexplainable are handled with a certain sense of humor and grain of salt. Such as the time I heard a noise at the cat door in basement door, and watched an orange shadow go shooting though the room and out the front bay window. But then again, why did both animals watch and follow this too? I even messed with me making the same movement with my head and the animals could have cared less.
As far as any poltergeist activity, at best it has been fleeting and unimpressive. But what I have experienced in my dreams has left me paralyzed in bed for a good half hour, as Poe would say, "Trapped within one's own mind to ponder what they experienced..." I consider them just that, real good nightmares!
Then again, why in a dream would I experience a spectral haunting in my house as I was chasing around a problem I felt existed, to tell the forming apparition, "Oh come on, I had enough of this haunting bullshit!" Then twenty minutes after waking, finding a neighbor's body in their yard, with others seemingly guided to the discovery in some strange way...
Another dream I had happened at the house I grew up on. I was dreaming of walking in the woods when I heard this strange ethereal music and these fire spirits started to dance with me. I danced with them in this trance like state until one touched me and I woke up in an instant feeling feverish and unable to breathe.
I attempted to get out of bed and instead, flopped on the floor and realizing I was paralyzed on my left side, had to desperately use the wall to walk to and open the bathroom window, where I found instant relief. I suspected a carbon monoxide problem, but no one could verify it. It would be ten years later that my sister, now living there, had found out that my father had the fireplace flue cemented over, but they did the flue to the furnace instead.
A ghostly warning, or my mind trying to communicate to me I was about to die? It not only saved my life that time, but one other as a spiritually, uncontrollable urge to smoke in the middle of the night revealed a smoked out basement with solvent laden rags about to burst into flames.
To me, my burning bush experiences are the most phenomenally impacting and unexplainable because of the circumstances that seemingly brought them about. I did have a favorite day with my mother, and having nothing to do we just sat and talked to each other while she did her handicrafts.
I found it amazing Mom showed her total love and dedication to raising us, as well, the principles and philosophies behind them. She mentioned she was so happy to have just completed reading the Bible, and expressed it gave her comfort and confidence that she did the job as mother and wife, because she always wanted to do so in a Biblical manner.
Then she added a Mickey, when she expressed her wish not to be put on life support of any kind. My parents planed to put it in legal writing, as well should she be put on life support. She expected me to be the one to remove her from it in any way possible and knowing the consequences for me, however, she felt the Lord would be with me...
...Then two weeks later, waking up to the hell of a mother in cardiac arrest in the living room. I got lost in the hospital and spied Mom being bagged as they transported her from the Emergency Room to the CCU. It went beyond instinct to carry out my mother's wishes, but in the split second of planting my foot to kick over the respirator, I honestly believed God intervened with a message heard though every cell of my body, "You are expected to deal with this, and you will fail! But you are expected none the less."
Had I do it to do over again, I would have ignored the message and kicked over that respirator; dropping at least two or three of the staff and sending the others to get security while I crushed my mother's throat! I have a feeling that possibility was planned for as I was frozen in place, except my neck and head to see Mom being wheeled right by.
As the social worker put it, "Welcome to the world of mega stress!" The when she was home and being cared for, the hours of prayer to God to let me face Jesus so I can tell Him a thing or two! I got my wish, and it didn't go well for me, as whether it was a vision, dream or delusion; it came with the message not to make demands of Them, but to do what they demand for me!
At least there isn't a passage in the New Testament of, "And upon Jesus' infuriated wakened graze, the naketh white man ran away from Jesus' encampment as he received his message." Then the final burning bush experience as I was in the park petitioning the Lord for the power of miracle to save my marriage to show God I am committed to the end. At that point a fifteen foot detailed, but not in any way identifiable form, informed me in the same manor, "I am walking away from this relationship ... And you do to ... When you are ready!"
Being sort of used to these things, all I could think to say is, "I'm fucked!" It would be another year in a half spent to try to right a run away and out of control step daughter, and get her to the point she won't do something that gets herself killed and boy was it an adventure! Then to have the patience of waiting for the wife to be in a position to negotiate to get the hell out of the house, instead of using it for a base of operations for her alter ego.
As a boy, most pastors admired me for my spiritualistic aptitude and command, but I was more worried about failing God's judgment, especially in question if all that stuff in the Bible was real. I was most comfortable with my religious beliefs when I bought Joseph Campbell's video on comparative mythology express his beliefs that the stories in the Bible were actually fairy tales for adults.
Then the discovery, they aren't fairy tales, but real and came still happen. Such burning bush experiences can really make you feel picked on, but you get just enough to survive and squeak though. Such courage is needed with writing, as there is that element of applying total faith in what you do.
Who the hell wants to write an anti-terrorism poem? I may hold posting it even after I wrote it, but I make the case to myself,I have discovered something from a completely unique and new manner and it must be related to others. The final arbiter is, "Can you live with yourself if you don't?" Same for me with love poems these days...
There are many explanations for ghostly phenomena from science, to metaphysics, the psychological, and religious. There are so many theories who have some valid considerations to ponder. I needn't the waste of time or the headaches of such pursuits so I chalk it all up to the Heavenly realm. There are many explanations on Heaven and what that is as well, but I feel one sentence from God is more explanatory then the greatest volumes of publications.
Very often religion is not a spiritual pursuit, but simply a practice that is stressed. Often the more spiritually oriented are often looked down upon. While I feel mainly Christian in beliefs, something from just about every religion has benefited me greatly. Stuck on a mountain doing nature photography in 103 degree weather in one position for hours, Zen meditations come in rather handy.
I loved the activities I did such as nature photography, mountaineering, and caving, because you had to reach so far outside of yourself and fit you into environments you were not supposed to be in, and the same goes for writing as well.
I feel there are far more ghostly encounters with living people in your life, as people and faces come and go. If they make your appearance for a brief minute, and in some small way, they provide for you something that completely changes or course or conception of life. You just knew you were supposed to meet each other.
Like the woman I encountered at the convention, who I wanted to dine with at the banquet only to lose that possibility, and dine with another ... Who turned out to be her! Then discovering that another person there and closest to me, was also her and what I believed was a wonderful relationship on the site I wrote on at that time.
She became one of the most important people to me for a while, and without her, I wouldn't be the writer I turned out to be. As soon as I looked into her eyes on the transport bus, I knew we were supposed to meet and thankful that we did.
But any talk of a relationship sent her into a total panic, and while she ungraciously cut those ties at the next convention, the thought still persists with me, she should have remained in my life as a friend. Had she been able to accept that and been the actual person she was, somehow it would have benefitted both of us, even if only distant writing friends.
I did learn more about her, and tracked down several threads which make sense. There was a hint she did a little acting as another member gave me the heads up and the character was as nutty as she actually is. She is big in writing and discovering her as editor in some of my cookbooks made me a happy little dough boy.
I couldn't resist alerting the writing site, and said I found Hugh's sloppy seconds on a Playboy video tape, and suddenly a humorous poem popped up talking about the fool who is chasing mirages. Well I looked at the video tape and that blond a buxom Playboy Bunny was definitely not her.
However the biggest hint is on the thumbnail sized people on the cover at the Playboy Mansion. Same red hair, same facial structure and eyes; as well freckles so big you can still see them despite how small the image was. It isn't hard to image she was part of the Playboy production crew and got a whale of an idea, "Honey, you don't want to use your real name. Hey, why don't us use mine!"
I also did feel that she had a lot to do with the site I wrote on as I also found a book with poetry and it matched many of the moods the site had, as well another author with her same name, also appeared as a photograph for one of the other members. Since this book was dealing with a child's disease, I figured the Convention Woman penned it, and the lady pictured was one of the care givers.
Other people entering into your life are just as profound as a poltergeist experience as they come into it in a totally unanticipated manner and really shake it up! Such as the Palestinian family who gave me my greatest compliment, "Perhaps, God might appreciate you honesty."
With seeing one of their girls walking funny with her hands out, and since her mother appeared to have no face, I walked up and intended to ask her, but wasn't prepared for the girl's reaction which sent waves of love though me and would take three months alone to figure it all out.
From the start, I knew I wasn't in love with her. I didn't even know her, yet every time I remembered that look, I felt nothing but love. Trying to figure it out was driving me crazy as each day; I would try and try again. I finally lamented, "God, I just can't figure it out."
That was when I heard Jean's voice as if she was standing next to me say, "Mike, don't you remember? You saw that look before." As if I was instantly touched, the bit of memory came forth of the last day I saw Jean alive. There to, praying to God that I find her and have the opportunity, courage and the words to tell her I love her.
I didn't expect to walk right out of the door, and have to hit her in the back of the head to get her attention before she walked into the girl's bathroom, or the magical words to get the same reaction the Muslim girl had was, "Jean, you're beautiful and I want you to model for me!" Since, she said, "No," I walked into the bathroom after her and instead of my usual words for reluctant models, but instead stated, "Jesus Christ, Jean! Can't we do something together, I love you!"
Then the petition upon bent knee with a stall door as the chaperone to state you case. I did believe I drew a little attention from the Palestinian girl, but that is not the way they do things and sure enough the hubbub was indeed an arranged marriage. Then during that time Mom deciding to rush me with my only thought, "Bring it on woman, you'll be the best fight I ever had!"
Little did I know a year later, they would once again fit into my life in a whacky way as my quest for Indian cooking led to me learning to cook Halal. I managed to catch her sister and beg her attention and she seemed prepared as if I was going to ask her out or ask about her sister, as that seemed to be the stance with, "Yes." I suddenly wanted to ask her out just to see how she would deal with a pervert.
Then she got this, What the hell? look on her face when I started talking about Indian cooking and Halal, but was gracious enough to explain she was Palestinian and told me to knock on their door and talk to her mother. Enter a befuddled man who had no idea about Halal cooking, or intention to let me meet his wife, his struggle to explain what he knew, making me realize I knew more than he did.
I loved the man as he was definitely a proponent of Islam and told me the fallacies of my Christian beliefs, and making my defence harder is that is he was using waht many Christians express. I enjoyed the spirit of this challenge and defended myself and beliefs with the Apostle's Creed, starting with, "I believe in one God, the father, the almighty..." He didn't like the part about forgiving trespasses though.
My favorite time was when he attempted to convert me to Islam and mistook my tolerance for interest. I had to stop him and say, "Don't you remember, my faith starts with, 'I believe in one God, the father...' I feel obligated to listen to Him and I feel he believes he expects me to do my part and speak when I feel it is necessary. Is Islam prepared to receive its Christ?"
I think he had the same image as me put into his mind, of his name being in the Holy Quran, under responsible party; he no longer thought the idea was a very good one.
Or, knowing what he will say about the Israeli rocket attacks by being prepared with a satellite image of our area and threatening to model rocket attack him. I used his threat to call the police if I do, as a way to describe the state of Israel, the Palestinians as well used the police as an example of the United Nations.
Then he asked a question about becoming a Palestinian country, and I responded; "There are three types of borders; economic, cultural and geographical. If I was Palestinian and had the same soul, I would want what is best for me and my family's success. I would want to be a citizen of Israel because they are a democracy, have a good economy and protect one's religious beliefs and cultural practices, provided they are within reason."
He respectfully said, "Perhaps God will appreciate your honesty." Never told him, that's who I asked for the words. He did something rare for a Muslim and always referred to me as a man of faith to his friends; but I did wonder if that was the polite way to tell his friends, "Leave him alone, he'll mess with your head."
But there is nothing like feeling a pat on the back from God with the demand, "Give it to him." As the next time he saw me, he insisted that not only were the Palestinians there first, but Islam as well.
"Oh, come on Joama, perhaps if your knowledge of history starts in the 1930's! Whose mosque is built on whose temple foundation? Palestine is mentioned in the Bible, but more alongside and not on top of Israel, the borders have all changed!"
"It says the Jews wandered in the desert for forty years, but I don't believe it was because of sin, but that was how long it took them to buy and earn Israel though treaty!"
So many people came into my life and touched it, and even with things went wrong, I somehow remembered the good or the intentions. From time to time, I do spirit keep to remind me of the many people who entered my life and either help me with mine or gave my life meaning; no matter if only a fleeting face or fleeing one as something goes wrong.
(Continued Next Chapter)
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