My Soul Has Shifted….corrected version.

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 also the experts from Accu-Weather, State College, PA, shifted towards a ‘open the door and look outside before making a forecast’ method.  Two weeks prior to this cooler weather it has been near 20 degrees warmer then, ‘normal’. Anything ‘normal’ anymore?  With that said the trees have leafed out and the Azalea’s have bloomed beyond expectations. When spring and Easter here in Georgia, converge there is a simple beauty in nature.

Checking my e-mails this evening brought I spied the 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”. My Dear Rhonda, Hotmail account has you in Spam, if you do not receive my attention after 30 attempts within thirty consecutive days please consider removing me from you’re a-list. Another favorite?  Is‘’ and their 4th notice to e-mail/call some bank on the island of Hong Kong.  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.

  Turn you back for just a moment on the details of daily life? Something is going to fall apart.  How you can raise a family, keep a career on track and maintain a household? I am single slash no family. 7/24 is shy of making a week. In the metro Atlanta area come hell or high-water a handful of events occur.  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. This year, the dinner was a bit more exciting than lobbyist sponsored feasting. Vegans and Occupiers staged as cousins at the dinner. The 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.  Following next into town is  Ringling Bros. & Barnum & Bailey Circus.  There are two traveling circuses’ one with more animals and the other with more aerial acts each year.  There was the motor cross event @The old Fulton County stadium, destroying the infield and outfield.

  Yes we are all ‘characters upon a stage’. This day begins, a player in a play, extremely satisfying and altogether un-nerving. Personal intuitive feelings the same as the first time I was in the swimming pool for lessons. Gripping the edges, chlorine taste of water in my mouth, trying as I might to lower my head beneath the surface, forcing air bubbles outward through my nose. 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, a 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 surface as 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 into Autumn. Weeks become fleeting. Lasting a day? The months’ flying past, now a year seems as only a 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 seems to resist being set ‘on time’. i-phone? Embarrasses’ me with total accuracy, cannot argue with me it says, and in return I not.  What is that movement in the body of mine, what is the pull? In the fleeting of a moment I suspected and concluded. “ My soul has shifted.”

Many years ago I received a four-volume set from National Geographic. God-bless Reg Murphy, he is still on-board there. Once upon a time he was ‘Editor in Chief” of Nat Geo, having left as eic of The Atlanta Journal. Reg had been kidnapped back in the day and the FBI blew the ransom exchange, under the overpass of Georgia 400 at Holcomb Bridge road, ten minutes from where I sit today. Reg was returned but the kidnapper did escape. Reg’s kidnapper was caught many years later.  Seems he used the ransom money to finance his degree in medicine.

Anyhow the volumes covered 4 basic periods in recorded time. You know Mid-evil and Renaissance movement. Like Knights and druids, the 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. One generation does rise and then another generation. Each busting their balls to be the best, the brightest, the most fair and enlighten generation or ‘civilization’.

I chance to say, as one whose life has afforded a unending time frame of solitude. From that solitude’s edge I did feel and sense ‘my soul shift’. I am stunned and wary, not enlightened. It was for a moment a perfect pitch of harmony, the whitest clouds with blue skies, the ocean’s waves and foam across the sands. I was there and I knew what it was.  No feeling fear, or wonderment, but a breathless wonderment. The clock may never tic again. Time and nature are one and the same, as a breath is exhaled and the next begins again. I witnessed my own soul as a tangible substance. Life will expire. And again ‘my soul will shift’.



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