Plain-crash (FUI-OD part ii): Angels + Clouds

A burning world thru sunken eyes A search for peace by reading signs An unmatched beauty within them lies A guilty boy is weak inside As I awoke from the crash, hope for survival was renewed. The wreckage that surrounded me didn't seem to smell of death.. Yet. However, I know that waiting for such a smell would mean I was much too late.  A new timeline shatters my conscious. If anyone is still in the plane, they must be found and possibly revived immediately. Guilt courses thru me as I finally peer into the darkness, calling out for anyone that might be there. My impaired vision had already blurred the surrounding cliffs of the impact site, so a desperate panic guided me.  As luck would have it, my (guardian) angel was watching and saved me from tipping the remains of the crash into the ocean.  Concentrate. Time. Sustainable shelters must be made. In my disgusting state of weakness I'm unable to move large items without external help. I'm afraid that I might move the wrong thing, or request the assistance of the wrong person or people. Smaller initiatives can't repair or rebuild quickly enough, but a decision must be made soon.  Meditation. Research. One million different options, each offering unique difficulties and solutions. Somehow I feel the best options will be the hardest.  I pray to my angel to help me find the right path: 'My savior, Angel of wisdom and compassion: please help!! My judgement is bad. Guide my hand so that I might understand.  Please allow me to see, help and protect the one I've harmed most. Please grant her confidence, family, friends, hope, strength, and small miracles in their times of need. Dear Angel, i humbly ask that you attempt to speak with me in child's terms so I might carry out your will correctly. I am hard of hearing, please gracious angel, allow me to hear your voice loud and clear from inside the castle of clouds . if you can forgive me just long enough to pass me your golden words, I will dedicate every breath of air in my body to see those words are realized immediately.' If you are listening, Thank you Angel guardian Ian MacAlistair White

Once upon a time...

8 may 2012 Once upon a time I was a slayer. Protector of the innocent, provider to any in need. Now I am the dragon. Breather of fire, scorcher of souls.  We all know what a heart looks like, so why is there confusion when one is pulled out? Furthermore, how can I disown a blood drenched hand after recognizing it as my own? Something surreal yet simple... denied existence by its creator who suddenly disowns the abomination only to save himself. Unprecedented and premeditated selfishness.  I have never met a person as selfish as I am. As I see her eyes change, a small piece of her spirit leave her body, I begin to wonder how many times this has been done. How can a person be so strong for others when their chest has been picked out repeatedly.  Scar tissue over scar tissue hides and protects a faint, small amount of life force. The rest has been picked away by other dragons, thieves and scavengers.  The difference between wrong and evil: hope.  Wrong justifies, avoids truth and responsibility, yet admits change. Evil is destructive in much the same way, but does not seek correction. No one wants to  feel like or be labeled as an "evil person". i imagine most of us force ourselves into repentance after we've been caught, rather than  admit what our true motives were.   Recently, I've begun to feel that understanding is the most important step in forgiveness, tolerance or dismissal.  People that have been wronged deserve to know the truth in its entirety, otherwise they may suffer more than once for the same action.  Such negativity and finality are difficult to  break free from.  I want to feel that there is some way to correct my actions so that I am not condemned. I imagine others feel the same way (or at least similar).  How many spirits have I crushed, lives destroyed? Which mask was I wearing when i cut into people's souls?  How much of the past can I correct? And maybe most importantly: why? I imagine the pain left inside her ricocheted within a shell of existence. Food lost flavor, water ran dry. Life seemed to lose meaning in a momentary pause. Hope sat in a corner, eagerly awaiting a cause, while fear loomed on the approaching horizon. A 50 year storm that no one could have foreseen or in any way prepared for, yet she has already built a shelter for us. Thank you my savior, My life belongs to you. 

Inside my mind: the monster machine

19 apr 12- Solitude. Alone in my car.. A stale desert wind chills my face. The sun retreats from another unproductive day, leaving me alone again with my thoughts. The vortex of irrationality spins with great force inside my head.  My unconscious mind digs into itself, creating false wounds in a narcissistic attempt to lure me into self pity.. But it's too late. A beacon of light has already exposed the smiling, shiny-toothed monster. I am exposed. The light pours over the crevices of my brain, dispelling hallucinations of injury. Projecting the radiant picture of truth: the injury of others.  This new image is so vivid, graphic and utterly devastating. I pause in awe of its presence. So unfamiliar, yet natural. I command the monster and he billows waves of guilt over my barren psyche. The ego sits lazily in its chair of approval, but my savior doesn't allow this. Voices are attached to the projection. Screams of pain and ultimate frustration course thru my veins, only this time they aren't my own.  The heart attempts to take over what the desolate mind cannot comprehend. Beating faster without understanding. Without true compassion or empathy. The entire process comes into focus. A flawed machine clunks on fossil fumes, spitting out a powdery black smoke... (to be continued)

FUI-OD: (flying under the influence of a dream)

3 may 12 I have  lied. Once is usually unacceptable, but I've probably lied 100s, maybe 1000s of times. Why? The strange thing is that most of the topics Ive hidden are not inherently bad, although there are a few. Most people would accept the truth without punishing me for my actions, thoughts or opinions. So why lie? As best as I can tell, I've lied to myself most of my life. From exaggerating the facts for a better story to premeditated negative impacts on other people's lives (or even my own!). I think that my favorite (aka most used) lies are exaggeration and omission. "Bold faced" lies, or "the sky is red" lies are more difficult as the liar has to actually alter their perception in order to believe any bullshit generated this way. I have many bold-faced lies under my belt. Currently, I've been called out on 3-4 of them and now I'm working on routing out any more that might be hiding.  Detaching from an intricate fantasy world that I've created has been challenging. Sometimes I want to slip back there, just for a second.. Just to rest. What the liar must realize, however, is that rest is much more fulfilling on the truthful side of the fence. Less to remember, less to forget. Less pain, heartbreak and betrayal to those we love most. Sounds like a great deal! So why am i just now signing up for this offer at age 30? Somewhere along the line ive convinced myself to value fiction over fact. The exact reason for this still eludes me, as I understand the numerous emotional benefits of honesty.  The problem with fantasy is that living there too long makes the crash back to reality that much harder. I've had a few minor crashes in my life, but none as destructive as my recent fall. I'm not hurt, but I've killed a plane full of emotions for the person I care most about.  At first I was piloting our lives to a sunny island destination. When I woke up from my fantasy the plane was damaged and quickly losing altitude. Panic seemed to override emotion as I sat frozen in my chair.  I've never been sure what I'd do in an emergency situation like this.. Even tho ive caused this tragedy, it is somehow foreign to me. I want reality to be the dream and wake up in a tropical destination: denial.  Sometimes I think that few people know until they get there. Other times I see survivors that look prepared and confident. She is a survivor. Even tho she is battered, bruised and has lost some sense of direction, I see that she is helping others before herself. She pulled me out of dangers way. She saved my life. Yet I'm frozen. Unable to offer even the slightest grain of gratitude as we plummet to our demise. Lives were entrusted to me and now they are in danger b/c I fell asleep at the wheel. Good pilots dont kill people. She knows it is my fault, yet her eyes comfort me. How strange! I have taken so much from her, but she tries to understand.  A quiet anarchy storms over every chair and down every aisle. Nobody knows that we didn't have to crash, that I could have saved us before leaving the ground. She knows. She always does. This has happened before and she was there and survived. I denied her predictions of it happening again, but here we are.  For a while I sat down and talked. We are all going to die and I'm asking her how her day was? How Trivial and inhuman. She converses as if nothing is wrong, just to ease my pain. More lights, more smoke.. We are falling faster. As I get up to tie my shoes, I knock over a fire extinguisher and injure her again. Having sustained so many traumatic impacts already, I am terrified that this perfect person might not see the light of day again.  She is now the only reason in life. she must be saved. There must be some hope for both of. us, if only I can finish tieing my shoes and find it.  it's nice to have scapegoat words such as: subconscious, habit, Impulse, fear, danger, etc. Yet, at the end of the day, there are very few problems in life that wouldn't be better off with a truthful resolution.