Nano Day 2 - No title as of yet...

[joegoda]

For Capi, because she likes words. I'm doing no editing now, Capster, but you can comment and proof read as you see fit. I'll fix it later.


"Take It Easy" - Prologue.

I'm not a nice guy. I've said this a thousand times, and I'll say it a thousand more. It's no wonder I live alone. It's no wonder that I don't have what might be described as a lasting relationship. There are those who will tell you outright that I'm a bit of a bastard.

I walked out on my wife after 13 years of marriage. Yep, it's true. Why I did it is something that I have yet to figure out. I tend to have very little filter between my brain and my mouth and sometimes it comes out pretty harsh. I have folks that love me and I keep very little contact with them because I really don't remember to contact them. Yeah... I'm a winner, for sure.

It doesn't mean that I don't have redeeming qualities. I'm a good and loyal friend to those that I decide deserve it. For those that I love, I would do pretty much anything, and that includes helping bury the body. For those that are lost, or in need, or cry out for help, I will cry for them, and help when I can.

Fortunately, those times are far and few between. I don't have to go out of my way to give assistance, and that's just fine with me. I mean, if I don't have to do anything, then, by God, I'll just keep on driving.

Even my dearest and closest friends will admit that I'm not a nice guy. Good friend, yes. Caring human being, surely. But a nice guy? You'll get a sad shake of the head from those that know me well.

And that is why I found myself having lost a relationship that some called magical, and some called fated, and some called destined. Simply and straighforwardly because I'm not a nice guy. Her life took her one direction, my life stayed the same. So it goes, such is life. She went there, I stayed here and never the twain should meet again. Doesn't mean I don't miss her, just means that I think she's better off. As for me... well, it just the way my life seems to go.

I tend to be a solitary sort of person. Granted, I like other folks fine, as long as they pretty much leave me alone.

It occured to me, one day when the air was crisp and the world had calmed, that living my life was all fine and good, but at fifty, it was time to do something different. I had nobody to answer to except me, I had no place to go, except where I wanted to go, and I was damned tired of going where other folks pointed and living up to what everyone thought I was supposed to be.

So I scheduled my two weeks off from work, packed my car, and headed in a direction I had always wanted to go. I have a thing for lighthouses, rocky cliffs, rolling waves, even though I've never seen any of these things. I headed out for Oregon. See, not only does it have lighthouses, rocky cliffs and rolling waves, but it also contains something else I've always wanted to see. The Oregon Vortex.

I had heard of the Oregon Vortex about thirteen years ago. It's one of those spots where gravity is supposed to do weird things. Balls roll up hill, optical illusions about height and distance. The perfect place to gain a new perspective. Besides, it just sounded neat.

I figured it would take me about five days to get there, traveling at a steady clip, stoping for gas and food and sleep. Just me, the road, and my thoughts. I'd get there, see the ocean, the light house, the cliffs, and the vortex, and it would give me a chance to be out in the world. Hell, at least it would get me away from the apartment for a while.

Now, I'm not one that usually does things by himself. I tend to stay pretty much at home, unless I'm coherced to get out and about with the few beloved friends I have. I like my own company. I know exactly what I like and I'm pretty darn good at providing it. Besides, I'm really the only one that knows what I like.

So, in reality, this was my escape from myself. Putting myself out of my comfort zone, placing myself in situations where I'm not always in control. I was excited. I was ready. I was terrified.

On that misty October morning, I checked my luggage, made sure there was at least two hundred dollars in cash in my pocket, and locked my apartment door. I walked out carrying my luggage and my jacket over my arm. That jacket had been with me for twenty years and had seen me through a large number of adventures. I had this idea that it was going to be cool up in Oregon. From the folks up there that I had talked to, it was at least as cool as it was in Oklahoma.

I stood there for a few moments, deciding if it was really and truly what I wanted to do. I opened the door to my van, put the key in the ignition, clicked my seat belt and sat. Yep, I was ready.

In my mind, I ran though all the things that could go wrong. Flat tire. Blown engine. Death. Death was not really a concern of mine. But flat tire? That's a biggie. I hate changing tires. Blown engine? Yep. I'd be afoot and carless somewhere that was not home.

I sighed. I sighed again. I turned the key, put the van in reverse and pulled out of my parking space and headed for the open road.

My brother, Sam would check in on the apartment. I had no pets, no coffee maker left on, no bills unpaid. All the folks that I care for were cared for, all worries left behind, except for the worries that always pop up when I start out for a trip.

I shoved those negative thoughts way back and drove on, heading through Tulsa and heading for the highway. So it always goes when I take off for points unknown. My brain tries to find every single possible thing that could go wrong, and tries to convince me that I was doing the exact wrong thing, and for purely selfish reasons.

That feeling lasts about five miles, and then the road takes over. My mind clears, my body starts to feel strong and right and the sound of wheels on asphalt becomes my mantra. I enter a Zen state that causes a cascade of images and thoughts and I regain my connection to the rest of the world. That's not just a turn of phrase. I connect to the world in a literal sense. It's a thing I don't quite understand, and I don't really care to.

See, in some places I'm called a wizard, in some places I'm called a mystic, and in other places, I'm just called plain weird. I reckon I am. My favorite places are those where I'm pretty much left alone. Yeah, so I can do stuff that some call magic. I like to think it's just a thing. Nothing more than that. And I don't like to do much of it.

I suspect it's related to something that happened when I was much, much younger. When I was a religious child, I called it being touched by the hand of God. Now that I'm much older and much more cynical, I still call it being touched by the hand of God. Why? Because that's the only way I know how to describe it. If I said I had and epiphany, it wouldn't come close to it. It was not an Ah Ha moment of intellectual discovery, it was not a broadening of spirit to come to some answer I was searching for. No siree.

It was a moment when I, my mind, my spirt, my chi, my whatever the hell you want to call it, expanded far beyond this physical world and I became a part of everything there was, there is, and there will be. It, whatever it was, lasted about fifteen minutes and left me with a tremendous euphoric 'what the hell was that?' sort of feeling.

And no, I did not and do not do any sort of recreational drugs. If I had, then there would have been an easy explaination. But nope, I was just a very squeakly clean young man, just mid way thought my teens, never even had a girl friend, and I had absolutly no reason that I should suddenly be shot up to the point where I was connected with the ALL. Frankly, I think it's just the way the Universe tends to show it's sense of humor. Showing a kid that he has the same sort of enlightenment that most Zen masters work most of lifetime to achieve, but he did in on one sunny spring day. Yeah. That's pretty funny.

But enough of that. I really don't give a crap about it one way or another. Basically, I try to ignore that side of me, and just live life one day at a time. Of course, sometimes that side does pop up, reminding me that it's still here, reminding me of my ignored Godhead. Sometimes it shows me a vision of things that may happen or has hapened. Sometimes it shows up in the form of odd signs that show me the direction I would need to go to achieve... whatever it is I'm supposed to do.

I do believe there is something I'm supposed to do, even if it's just doing my job from day to day. Sometimes it can be fairly large, like saving the world from a demon invasion that was started because some smartass who thought he knew how to control extra-dimensional beings lost his hard fought control and got himself eaten. Well, ok, so maybe it wasn't the WHOLE world. Maybe it was just one small Oklahoma town, but to me, at the tender age of twenty-two, it might have well been the whole world. They were pretty tough buggers to get rid of, let me tell you.

And before you start to believe that I have some God-like powers, that I control the weather, that I can heal the sick, or raise the dead, forget about it. I don't do that stuff. For one thing, it causes undue attention. For another, every miracle requires balance and control. It's too much responsibility, and I'd rather not have it, thank you very much. I'm fairly happy being a shorter than average, not quite completely bald, over fifty guy with a small paunch that sits in front of me. I'm fairly happy being as normal as I can be, for me. Just a guy who has a straight line to the powers that be.

Of course, having touched the Universal Mind does open one's mind up. It does have it's prices. One is knowing that everything has a purpose, for good or evil. Another is knowing that no matter what you do, you will achieve your purpose. Another is knowing that no matter how much we think we matter, we really don't, even if, in an entirely different sense, every thing we do matters. It's the I, the individual ego, that doesn't matter. It's the things we do as a whole, as a complete entity, that matters, and the funny thing is that, here on Earth, it doesn't matter much of a damn. But it matters a great deal elsewhere. It matters a very great deal. To complicate it even further, to lose any of the individuals diminishes the whole, weakens it, so the individual part is as important as the whole.

I hate it when I start going on like that. I really do. After a while I even bore myself. doesn't make it less true, though.

And so, the road trip. I needed to get out of the place where my roots were and see where my roots had grown to. I needed to clear my head and my heart from this woman that just decided that I wasn't worth her effort... that bothered me a lot more than I wanted to admit. It probably still does. And I wanted to see Oregon for no other reason than it just sounded like a nice place to see. It also has this vortex, see, and I just think that would be darn neat. Maybe important, even. There are signs that point me that way, anyway.

Signs. Sometimes it would be so easy to ignore signs, but there's a price to pay for that as well. If you ignore the signs in your life, they just get bigger and bigger until they bonk you on the head, saying 'Hello! I know you're in there!'

In my case, there had been a website for the Oregon vortex that popped up uninvited as I was surfing, and I recieved an Oregon postcard from a long lost friend. There were mulitple dreams about the vortex, a lighthouse and waves crashing against tall, rocky cliffs. For weeks I was having travel brochures about Oregon fly up out of the road and stick to my windshield. One of my customers called me from there and invited me up. Someone, probably one of my neighbors, left a lighthouse windchime hanging on my door with a note asking if it was mine.

Yep, I was being called. Who am I to ignore the Universe when it comes knocking on my door? Of course, nothing is easy in this sort of thing. I had no earthly idea what it was all about or why I was picked for this. It's also one of those situations where I'm not sure who picked me. Was it subconscious, and I was doing it to myself? Was it a higher power putting me on the road to correct some sort of cosmic wrong? Was someone that I did not know calling out for help that only I could do? I didn't know, nor did I really give it more than a seconds thought. No... that's not true. I tend to give these things a lot of thought, just not all at the same time. It amounts to the same though. I didn't know, so I decided to go find out.

Okay, so the trip wasn't just some will of the whim. I was still determined to enjoy it. Why I was called to go that way, I have no idea. Nor does it really weigh much on me. Much. Whatever the reason is, I'm sure it will reveal itself in time.

It's probably something to do with saving the world. Again. From who knows what sort of moron that is fooling around with things he or she just barely knows how to control, but has the arrogance to believe they know that they know what they're doing.

I hate magic.

Let me clarify that. I don't hate magic, because magic, by and of itself is a cool thing. I know many people that walk through this life projecting their own personal magic and making the world a better place. I call these people Angels, though I don't necessarily believe in that heavenly stuff. Angels and demons, as the bible talks about are as real and solid as the gingerbread man. On the other hand, Angels and demons, in the form of human beings walking the earth are a sure thing, in my universe. We have good folk, we have bad folk. We have some really, really powerful good folk, and some really, really powerful bad folk.

So, what I really hate is not magic, but what humans do with magic. Good lord, there are some really stupid people out there. They actually think they can order the Universe around and have it do what they demand it to do. Demand... really. And those are the good ones! Holding their rituals and swinging their dead cats at midnight. Okay, so I'm kidding a bit about the dead cats.

But seriously, none of that bell, book and candle stuff is necessary. God love 'em. I don't hold it against them. I just think it's kind of a waste of tremendous energy. And, like I said, these are just the good people, holding their healing circles, their seasonal burning of the incense and lighting of the altar. I'm not saying that it doesn't work... it does, it does. But man, they get to be such snobs about it!

Now, the Bad Guys, they are some nasty customers. They do blood sports. They do serious rituals. They do things that would make your loving grandmother rise from her grave and pass out from the sheer terror of it all. I know. I've seen some of it. I've had some of it done to me. And you know what? Some of this evil, nasty crap is government sanctioned. Hitler's Mystics have nothing on these guys.

And that is why I keep a low profile, keep to myself, don't let that little light shine. I hate magic practioners, just because of the people that tend to use it, over use it, misuse it and abuse it, blame it and lay the blame of life on it. Sheesh, c'mon. It people that tap into the power. It's people that direct the energy. It's people that give it the intent, and intent is the strongest force that this power, this energy has.

There are those that I have nothing but the deepest respect for. There is a little woman in California that quietly walks her path. There is a woman in Tulsa who lives her life in the sense of servitude, helping those that need it, regardless of how hard her own life is. There is a man in Pheonix who will spend his last cent to help someone less fortunate than he is. There are a lot of people like them, and they are the ones that give me hope for mankind.

But still, I have moments of extreme cynicism, and that is why I chose to hit the road, to find myself, to see where these signs were leading me, and to see what the hell was up with the Oregon Vortex.

"On The Road Again."

I loved driving. I have done lots of driving over the years, long drives of ten, twelve, fifteen hours at a time. Stopping every couple of hours, or every four hours, for gasoline, eating on the road, or just to rest for a bit before taking off again. I loved listening to the wheels as the shooshed over wet pavement, or groaned as they edged onto the shoulder to warn me that it was time to take that rest stop. I loved watching the other drivers because it was so easy to predict what they were going to do just by the tension in the air around their vehicles.

I love driving. Or, to be more honest, I love highway driving. Get me in a city and I will become a bad tempered monster, cursing the moron in front of me, and blasting negative energy at the stoplights which always seemed to know I was there. But free lanes and open skies? That's where I live the best. Give me a long, straight stretch of road with nobody in my way and my speed going just as fast as I felt safe and I'm a happy camper.

Creeping from light to light, from 31st street to highway 169, my temper only flared two or three times. Once on the highway, though, calm, serene thoughts flooded my brain. Turning West onto 412, I reached down and turned the radio on. 412 is the highway that runs through the Northern edge of Tulsa, and is a meandering road, sometimes four lane, sometimes two lane, but always interesting. To the East is farmland and Menonite bakeries and Arkansas with it's twisty turny roads and high, high hills, and ending in the small town of Columbia, Tennesee. To the West are small towns, an flat road, and dust and more small towns and stoppng in Springer, New Mexico. It never even touches the Pan Handle of Texas, and that is just fine with me.

I don't tend to turn the radio on unless I'm looking for a sign. Music is one of the multiple thousands of ways that people touch the Universe. Me, I got lucky. I didn't even have to try. I was one of the few that the Universe came looking for. But most folks have to find a way, a conduit, to feel the hand of God. Music, for good or bad, is one of those ways. From the very moment Ogg crawled out of his cave and started chanting all the way to where Rap music sounds very much like those million year old chants, people have used magic as a way to touch something that is very much larger than they themselves are.

I turn on the radio looking for a sign. Think of it as casting the bones, tossing the stones, reading cards or checking your horoscope. For me, it's the radio. If I find a song that is playing in the middle, I listen to the next line. If it's just starting, it's the topic of the song. If I catch a song near the end, past the beginning of the final phrase, then the sign tends to be the title of the song. Why? Don't ask me. I have no idea. I just know that's the way it works. Every. Single. Time.

The song was and oldie, but a goodie. Golden Earring, singing Radar Love. I caught just the very last bars of it, but it was recognizable. Radar love. Something up ahead was calling me, that was a for sure and true certainty for me now. More than likely it was a some-one. The love part was an indicator that it was a person of good, so that meant trouble. I always tend to fall for the good people. Bad people give me the willies, but at least they're fairly predictable. They just want to be bad. Love, on the other hand, is always unpredictable.

This was going to prove to be an interesting trip.

Comments

[capi.livejournal.com]

YAY!!

Very "Grapes of Wrath" style going on here - i'm loving it!

I ignored the broad-band sprinkling of typos/spelling errors in favor of sticking with the flow, k? Cuz.... it's YOU in here, and i always want to stick right there when it's you, eh?

*smile*

Let's GO!!!!

[joegoda.livejournal.com]

In favor of the spirit of the thing, I'm not spell checking it either. When all 50 thousand plus words are done, THEN I'll go back and make corrections. This is a far departure from pretty much all my previous work, being mostly biographical commentary with some fantasy thrown in.

Thanks Capi, you know I love you muchly.