My Soul has Shifted…….

My Soul has Shifted……..

Let the truth be told, the week of Spring break this year is far and away not a break at all.  Everyone’s children are out and about, families traveling to be with families and the most beautiful weather we have seen around these parts in a year or so.  The temperatures have fallen to something close to ‘normal’, if there is such a bench mark any more.  I’ve noticed even the most seasoned forecasters, professional media prognosticators on television here in Atlanta, experts from Accu Weather in State College, PA, are shifting to the best test of forecasting, ‘open the door and look outside before making a forecast’.  Two weeks prior to this bit of cooler weather it has been near 20 degrees warmer then, ‘normal’. Is anything ‘normal’ anymore?  With that said the trees have leafed out and the Azalea’s in our part of the world have bloomed beyond expectations. Here in Georgia, when spring and Easter converge there is a simple beauty in nature to not be missed.
Checking my e-mails this evening brought forth a familiar group of faces.  Rhonda Anderson sent me a 2nd notice from Facebook…”You were sent this via FB and you haven’t watched it and it’s URGENT”. I feel no compelling need Rhonda, my Hotmail account has you in spam, besides you’ve sent me the link I count 30 times in as many days. A favorite is ‘ and their 4th notice to call some bank.  I wasted over a hour of my life tracking and never go further than WHOIS.  Best standby in my  Hotmail ‘spam folder’ would have to be, no explanation needed. And like a 2nd cousin is “Tang Sue, Executive Director and Head of Personal Banking, Hang Seng Bank Limited. Tang Sue has 22million dollars, yes and change in my name because…….the investor…..” Aziz Musa Numan and his family had been killed during the war in a bomb blast that hit his home at Mukaradeeb. I, provided a picture of Aziz’s village and still I puzzled how a man with fortune here ended up in Hong Kong.

He lived here.

Mukaradeeb, Iraq

Reading spam e-mails typically is a habit acquired by long grueling days at work, followed by the short nights. Brought onwards by daily and weekly details trying to maintain my home in the suburbs. Turn you back for just a moment on the details? Something is going to fall apart.  I’ve always wonder how you can raise a family, keep a career on track and maintain the household? My spam is becoming seriously interesting and I’m single with not a family. Most of the e-mails I communicate with on the ‘regular list’ consistently pushes to the “Ticketmaster scroll of coming attractions”.
Having spent entire adult life here I’m fairly attuned to a regular scheduled. In Atlanta a handful of events play out each year, consistently.  It snows in early January, yeah everyone get a ‘free day off’. The State legislature convenes. For some unknown reason the night before the gavel drops there is a dinner in downtown Atlanta @the Depot or what remains of Terminus. “The Wild Hogs dinner”, also know as a lobbyist trough, we know who pays for dinner. This year, the dinner was a bit more exciting than lobbyist. Vegans and Occupiers provided the entertainment with their agendas at the front gate, occupiers were treated to a rice dinner by the vegans, across the street in the occupiers camp..  A note to crashers, you would better suite your cause & agenda by waiting a day when the reps convene. BTW, the dinner is hosted by a group that even the impressive investigative arm of the Atlanta Journal could ‘not’ pin down. Although tickets my be purchased by anyone to attend, the closest the ATL journal could come to ‘who sponsor the dinner’, was two years back, and the man had resigned as the treasurer then, and offered up a tobacco lobbyist as a contact.
The next big event would be the Ringling Bros. & Barnum & Bailey Circus.  If memory servers me right, there were two Circuses, one with more animals and the other with more aerial acts each year.  Following the circus was the ‘motor-cross event’.  This always held near and dear to in-town chatter. The old Fulton County stadium became a mountain course for the motorcycles for a week, and left a razor thin margin of weeks to completely restore the ‘turf’, for a round of over 80 @home Atlanta Braves baseball games.
In my memories on this day I feel the full force of Spring and the rhythms of the seasons. My enlightenment of this morning, and the pondering of all day. Yes we are all ‘characters upon a stage’. This day begins, a player in a play, extremely satisfying and yet altogether un-nerving. Feelings as the first time I was in the swimming pool, gripping the edges, chlorine taste of water in my mouth, trying as I might to lower my head beneath the surface, forcing air bubbles from my nose to rise. Again and again I would sink a bit, the water at my chin, lower to my nose at the surface. The other children next to me? Oblivious. My legs beneath the water searching for the invisible balance,  head slightly above and below the water line. The voice inside this small child’s head,  ‘I know I can do this” My age held me from fear an emotion yet to be experienced. This child’s most inner-self and voice grappling for their communion . Soon enough edging below the water, a chorus’ is created Air from my nose escaping outward to water, resonating vibrations, synching. To me the bubbles sing, natural and primal cadence. Satisfaction and accomplishment  rising thru my head, my body, ” a conscious moment of a child?’. Feet and legs moving with purpose, little hands relaxed their grip from pools edge.  I urged my body to float freely, above or below the waters surface and chlorine disinfected waters embraced me, me the child.  A Jonathon Livingston Seagull moment?  Discovering me as me, a season of life begins?
How quickly my time passes, Fall then winter, Spring melding into Autumn. Weeks become fleeting. lasting a day.  The months flying past, now a year seems as only last month. Time in my soul is feeling like currency, the dollar or euro, a bag of gold for yesterday, “pennies for your tomorrow sir??” My clock @home does not tick. The cool watch I have to match my glasses?  It, the watch, seems to resist being set ‘on time’. i-phone? Embarrasses’ me with ‘its’ total accuracy, cannot argue with me it says, and in return I not.  But, and yeah but. What is that movement in the body of mine, what is that pull, a balance of not eyes, the balance of synching within myself.  I pondered this day and must profess, my soul has shifted.
Years and years ago Nat Geo sent to me, after a lifetime of enjoyment a special four book edition. Oh and god-bless Reg Murphy, he is still on-board there. @one time he was ‘Editor in Chief”, after leaving the Atlanta Journal, and after being kidnapped back in the day and the FBI blew the ransom exchange…..btw they did catch the guy after he spent the money.  Unbelievably he spent the ransom money on a college degree.  When the FBI did find him decades later? He was a Doctor practicing medicine in Alaska… Anyhow the 4 set volumes covered 4 basic periods in recorded time.  You know Mid-evil, and Renaissance  movement if your not familiar with them don’t worry, like Knights and druids and such. Romans and Greeks.
Within these 4 volumes the rise, maturing and decline of governments, dogma’s set forth, conquest, inventions, artistry and mathematics. Nothing lasted forever, well maybe the math and science. Just one generation and then another, each busting their balls to be the best, the brightest, the most fair and enlighten generation or ‘civilization’. In the end as we all will by the commands of life and nature melding to the next season, the next generation. I say this and write, as one whose life has afford a unique time frame of solitude. From that solitude, today I felt my soul shift. I am stunned and wary, not enlightened. It was for a moment a perfect pitch in life of all harmony, clouds with blue skies, ocean waves and foam on the sand, I was there and me knew what it was.  There is or was no fear, or wonderment, no Angles singing. The clock may never tic again, but time by natures very substance of renewal, moving  forward as a breath is exhaled and the next begins again, indeed I witnessed my  soul as a tangible substance. Yes as real as the scent of a ‘Queen Elizabeth rose”. Life will frighten me, life will beat me down, lift me up and in the end of me, life will expire.  Again my soul will shift.