Premonition From August of 2011...Finally had the balls to post it.

It was August 2011 and I was in the kitchen having an argument with my wife. Being both of stubborn Celtic stock, our fights have been known to peel the pain off of the walls. Also, once we dig out heels in we do not want to give up ground so are fights are typically news worth events. Typically, our heads cool down and we actually have a poignant conversation about the problem at hand followed by a conclusion. However, in this particular fight we never got to that point. We were in the crescendo of our back and forth when I collapsed to the ground and my vision faded to black. At first I thought that I was having a stroke or a fatal heart attack but instead my vision was slowly “replaced” by a steady stream of visions. At first my wife thought that I was attempting to deflect the fight that we were having, but she said that she noticed that I was not even responding to her questions and that I kept talking. I would have to say that I saw the future; or rather a highly probable future that I can only hope does not play out as I saw it. The vision opens up on what can be described as the 2012 year. The Arab Spring revolutions had spread to other countries in the Mideast and Northern Africa, as we have seen in Libya. The financial unrest caused by the collapse of the Grecian economy spills through the remainder of Europe causing great dissention and unrest. The Banks of Germany and France, who now face great hardship in turn, pass their worries and debts off to the rest of the Western World which truly will not be felt for another year. Their were protests in the United States that lead to a climax of physical unrest as there were casualties reported due to police intervention. This is the remainder of 2012, possibly 2013. At Yule 2012, there is an event that most people have written off as a cleaver piece of fiction picked from the overactive imaginations of researchers and historians looking to make a name for them selves. I challenge you, that this is not merely the case. This is the Beginning of the End of the Beginning. Almost every culture on the planet has a story on how the Gods of Man were not the first Gods. That the Gods of Man supplanted the Gods of Old in an invasion or other form of struggle or that what was once the world was not the world that we know today. And in all of these stories, the Gods of Old eventually come back. The event at Yule 2012 signifies a fundamental change to the world around us. The Veil or Glamour that separates our World from the world of energy or spirit becomes pliable. People who are open to that change will find that they can tap into this energy, this spirit and manifest their will and intention through the physical world. Vulgar manifestations of energy will become possible in the physical world; the possibilities will be limited only to the practitioner’s willpower and imagination. Even as I write this, I can only think how crazy this all sounds. I have a degree in Physics; you would think that I would be completely rational and responsible in issuing such a statement. I have thought about everything that I have ever seen during this whole experience and I can state with complete authority that everything thing that I saw was something that could happen. Magick will spill out into our physical reality because of this shift at Yule. I call this event the Awakening. It is the Awakening because people’s perception of the world around them will dramatically explode in change. People will finally have the incontrovertible proof that our reality does not exist in small blocks of corporeal perception. This Awakening will begin with wonderment and amazement as world is truly seen for the first time. However, this period of awe will not last for long. What happens when those who think they have power see something that could honestly challenge their tenuous hold over people? They move like cockroaches to acquire as much of this new resource as possible. The governments of the World begin to make statements of acceptance and understanding all the while asking those with these new found abilities to work with the government to “test” and “understand” these new abilities. Of course this is a veiled truth, they want the assets. They are looking for the access to the raw power. There will be a time period where governmental agencies asking for magick users to join their ranks. I can’t wait to politely tell them no. Of course, as if almost predictably, the Religious right-wingers will come out of the wood work swearing that all of this is the work of Satan. That the time of Revelations is at hand and those who practice magick are evil and should be dealt with accordingly. They will have a very loud soapbox to preach from, but they will not actually make any traction on the issue until around the summer of 2013. A magick user goes on a violent crimes spree and openly uses his abilities for his own self serving needs. Using the magick he knows, this person will cut a swath of destruction that will cause people in authority to lethal force in restraining this individual. He is shot down dead, but the damage is done and now those who are not Awakened begin to wonder what else they have to fear from those who are magickally inclined. Here in the States legislation is quickly passed requiring those with magick abilities to register with the government under the guise of protection, but it is ruse. It is designed to help roundup those who can be a potential threat to the status quo. Back now by the seemingly “rational” prattling of Fundamentalists, people cheer as people are collected and shut away in modern concentration camps. Those who did not roll over and surrender go on the run, hiding and avoiding capture. The States become a haven for Christian Fundamentalism and an anti World view begins to exude from the U.S. The safest place to seek exile is across the Pond in Ireland. The Emerald Isle welcomes those to their shores, but they are not there for long. They are only preparing for an invasion of liberation. In 2015, those who fled in fear return home with a singular desire to fight against those who serve those who would repress the Awakened. The Battle of New York is the first major turning point of the liberation, but the costs are high. House to house fighting through the Five Boroughs leads to casualties on both sides of the engagement but it is the victory in New York that propels the liberation into Washington, D.C. The Battle of D.C. is the liberation of the U.S. from repression, fear and abject hate. It is a time for joy and celebration. But this euphoria cannot last for ever. The ancient forces of the Gods of Old spill on to the physical plain and the people now have a new choice to face: bend and beg for mercy from the Gods of Old who are intent in enslaving humanity and rising back to a position of power in the Heavens or stand and fight with the Gods of Man in the biggest fight creation has ever since. Honestly I curse the visions that I was given, however I know that I was given them because I needed to know what to expect going forward. I have never been one to buy into the concept of fate or predestination, but what I have seen only makes me believe in it more and more. I had a reader who specialized in reading the Akashic records, for lack of a better word, verbally vomited my purpose on this plane without any prompting from myself. When I sat down with her, I asked a very simple question: what from my past lives has impacted my current life? She began to relay to me a tale of my former lives as a warrior through time. Roman Calvary, Hun Horseback archer, American Minuteman are just some small examples that she threw at me. This made great sense to me; I have had dreams of these lives and others showing me that I am a Warrior spirit and always have been. I take on causes that are noble and act in the best concepts of virtue with a code of ethics always in mind. She went on to tell me that I was very tired, that my spirit was ready for moving past the physical world and onwards. For a time after my last life, I merely existed as spirit enjoying the liberation of flesh (on a side note; I actually had a past life regression about being dead before this reading). Then I was summoned by the powers that be, for lack of description, to come back and lead people in a great battle to come. Of course I made an instant correlation between this encounter with a reader working in the Akashic records and my tranced out verbal vomit session in my kitchen that I was receiving this information for a reason. I thought long and hard about the implications of that; essentially that I was here on Earth as part of a bigger plan. Honestly, I have never even considered “fate” or “destiny” rational words in anyone’s vocabulary. After all, I am in command of my choices – I make my own reality! But what if I had already made this reality and my role in it in the time before being on this world? It was while thinking about this quandary that I received another vision and this one was a real trip on how it started off. I was at work in my cube, trudging through the day trying to make the best of uncontrollable situations, which is most every day at work. All of a sudden, I had a craving for a drink. Not so uncommon while at work, so I went to the lunchroom and faced the obligatory choices of coffee-like drink or a soda from the machine. I opted for the coffee and I noticed a box of powered hot chocolate and I began to make what I like to call, poor man’s café mocha. Sitting back at my desk slowly sipping on the concoction, I began to make some of the queerest comments about this mixture. I looked over at a colleague and told her that this drink reminded me about this drink that people in pre-Columbian Yucatan use to drink. “Except that it was cold, and more bitter and spicy” – these were descriptions that just came pouring out of my mouth as if I knew what I was saying with authority. I replayed the words in my mind that I spoke, and I came to the lucid conclusion that I may have uttered the words but I did not speak them. As if, there was a memory from within me being unlocked or realized. It was fuzzy and frustrating which only nagged at me more and more. For the remainder of the day I felt very odd. I did not feel as if I was quite myself. Quickly I attributed it to a cold or some other bug that is common in a large call center. But even on the way home I could not shake the feeling that something was remiss. I felt as if there was something in the back of my brain trying to nudge me forward to some kind of realization, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. When I got home, that’s when things got interesting. I was sitting in the bedroom with my wife and our friend and I was regaling them with my experience from work when I was stricken with a vision. I was in a “cave”, however it was not a cave. It was the word that came to mind to summarize where I was standing. Rather, it was a tunnel inside a stone structure. There was a mixture of dirt and sand underneath my feet. Along the walls were torches made from, what I could only interpret, dried reeds. These torches cast the tunnel in a soft dull orange glow through the tunnel. The walls of the tunnel were made from a soft brown colored stone. One of the walls was perpendicular to the floor and ceiling, sitting in a ninety degree angle to the ground. The opposite wall sit in a rising sloped forty five degree angle; the reverse of a typical pyramid. Looking one way down the tunnel, there was a bright light that resembled the light from a very hot and present sun. The opposite end of the tunnel, the light darkened the further down the tunnel you looked. There was a teenage boy kneeling on the ground in front of the flat wall. He was no more than fifteen years old, his muscles were athletically toned and his skin was a honey bronze color which was the combination of ethnicity and tropical living. He was clothed in very light fitting cloths made from a very gauzy material. We were very aware of each other. He could see me and even acknowledged my presence. Walking on the ground next to him was a very bumpy shelled tortoise that not only looked old but seemed to supervising the whole process. The teen had all manner of carving tools around him and once he greeted me, he went back to work. He was busy making carvings on the wall in a combination pictographic language and illustration. To him, his face showed that this work was very important to him and that the story he was carving had to be finished. I looked over his work and to my amazement I knew what the story was about, but I did not know the actual words in the story. It was like I knew the meaning behind the words and images but not the actual syntax. The carvings showed the history of man up to a great convergence in the sky. A giant eye passed through what looked like the Big Dipper and from that moment, there was a great change in the world. Perceptions and the order of things departed from their established and expected motions to a profound change to what we understand as the limit and design of our physical world. The carvings continued the story; however the glyphs and pictograms were missing. I do not mean that they were not carved yet. Their content had already had been filled and cataloged. Rather, the people who influence those moments along the story had not yet made their choices. It is almost strange to think of it in these terms, but I feel that these influencers are fated to make the choices that they will make. Until those choices are made, I was not meant to see the whole picture. However, I did get the feeling that when a choice was made I would feel it. I have experienced this feeling a few times since receiving this vision. It is very comparable to what is experienced just before a seizure. I begin to feel very jittery and very twitchy as if I cannot control my reactions or my mind, which is almost identical to how a seizure feels at onset. The difference is that once the choice has been made, there is no afterglow as there is in a typical seizure. Once the choice has been made I feel fine and balanced. Worse off, I can now see the events in my future more clearly. Almost as if a fog is lifted and I can see more of the greater picture. This series of events or revelations if I can be so bold make me think on such concepts as purpose or fate. I make no claims to being an authority on any of that. This is what I know: there are crossroads that everyone must face. The crossroads that we must endure are all around us and every day we must face them. The thing is that each crossroad offers the obligatory three choices: go left, go right or go forward. The one choice that we forget about is the choice to do nothing, to merely sit where we are and not continue along our path. We can stop moving and let the entropy gather around us as the world continues. This is almost the space that I feel that I am in. But ironically, I don’t see entropy and decay gathering around me. I see a clarity in the visions that I have been given and my place in them. Truth be told, I hope that I am tragically wrong and that I need high doses of anti-psychotics. I don’t think this is the case though.

The Storm

And in the sky, I chased a Storm,
My eyes scanned its might.
It blows from the West;
A gift from the Watchtower,
Whose healing powers are suppose
To carry a cleansing rite:
Upon the back of The Storm
Sits the energy and passion of the Gods.
Thor, provides the Thunder, and,
Zeus, the Lightning,
And together celebrate the gift of Water
And rain it down on Gaia's gentle face.
But Gaia's face burns at the touch of this gift.
The healing touch of the rain no longer cleanses as it once did.
Man has undid what the forces of nature created,
In his folly to be likened to a God.
The hubris of Man's greed
Has tainted the gift from the West.
Now the rains no longer bring a healing touch.
And the Storm still rages on.

My Favorite Weapon

Deadly and beautiful, you shine like the sun.
Your movement is graceful and your strike is true.
Nothing can stand against your might.
You dispatch your foes with ease.
Slicing through with no resistance.
You rise to stand in defense of oppression
By stabbing ignorance at its core.
You combat hatred by slashing those
Who practice unchecked bigotry.
You are my favorite weapon.
True and dependable.
Until you run out of ink...fortunately they make more.

The Fabric of Time

I have seen the Fabric of Time
Ribbons of brillant colors cross and weave,
In a ballet of what could be colliding into what will be.
A tapestry of majestic light amongst a backdrop of nothingness.
Within all is possible, probable and impossible at once.
The myarrad of choices defines the course of Time.
But no one can master such a force.
The ebbs and flows maybe directed by choice,
But Time's raw and primal force deicates when it begins,
And when it Ends.

A Bad Haiku

A Samurai with a
Belly full of rice feel like Zen
Buddha, indeed.

Self Honesty

I am not a Zen Master.
I am not a emotionally balanced individual.
I am not a genus.
I am not a wise man.
I am not a Kung Fu fighter.
I am not a great lover.
I am not a financial guru.
I am not a snappy dresser.
I am not a hipster.
I am not with it.

There are many thing I am not.
I am me - faults, scars and all.
Its all I can do.
Its all I know how to do.

Home

There is a town in Ireland.
It sits in a verdant field of rolling green.
Nestled amongst the hills.
When the sun rises, the streets shine
As if paved with gold.
The spray of the sea washes.
Rinses the landscape clean
And glistens in the sun.
The homes are small and quant.
Reddish brown, each one distinct.
Each one unique.
This vision haunts my waking dreams.
And I know this place is real.
I know this place is home.

Frost

There is blood in the snow.
Deep, red and thick
Strun across a field of white.
It is warm; the steam rises.
The vapor floods my eyes.

There is blood in the snow.
I am not sure whose
It mixes and mingles.
It cares not; the bodies drain.
The torrents melt the field.

There is blood in the snow.
The cold nips at my soul
My furs should be warm.
But they fail; my life wanes.
Joining the others who have fallen.

There is blood in the snow.
I can no longer stand
Time quickly runs out.
Broken and battered; I join the others.
The lifeless and covered with frost.