Sparkly diamonds fall from the hazel imbued sky and like mad children we bloody each other to catch these precious gems that now define our existence. I am brought before a tribunal for giving these stones away, and I stand at the bottom of a massive rotunda where America stares down upon me. As an impassive interrogation ensues, my fragile mind falls helplessly blank and I shutter to speak. Darkness awakes and begins to sweep fog-like into the room. From the bowels of this massive coliseum a man appears and walks toward me as amber moonbeams follow his every step. He is surrounded in this warm luteous light, and in his approach he gazes upward to the enraged masses as if he’s longed for this Day of Judgment. Streams of phosphoric radiance brush his face and reveal an unfading Kafka. He saunters aplomb through the growing shadows where he places a slaughtered lamb upon the navel of this now roused amphitheatre. Kafka approaches my tiny caged podium, and with the pugnacious audience feverishly taunting our presence, he enters and gently places his bloody hand upon my shoulder. We stand together as we are pelted with fruit and stones, and in this violent storm the light becomes blinding and the darkness suffocating. Yet there is comfort, because although nothing is spoken between us we know that we are alone no longer. It is here in this propitious moment that I realize that A Step Back must begin, for it is my defense.

I awake and gaze out the plane’s small window. I glimpse for the final time, the sea, that sweet salty water of life and as land appears abruptly below we begin to follow the coastline southward to New York City. After more than half year we are returning to America. We are broke, and all we have to physically to show for our sojourn are rolls of film that we can't afford to develop. Those exciting days filled with something new, meeting people from around the world, the clash of fresh ideas, seeing the unique sights and places on this globe of ours, are all now just past experience, a memory. The journey is over. I looked passed Bren out the window to the sea of blue below, and I desperately try to extinguish the possibility that this was our last taste of freedom. Death dances at our doorstep, the seventh seal is broken, and this is our last touch of the "living" part of our existence—our final breath of air unencumbered. Or so it seems—as the stinging pain controls me, it knifes deeper with each passing moment, and I don't want to face the light of this torment. The struggle ensues and I look for a place to hide. It's just so much easier to be a part of the commotion, to find my comfortable quiet place within the mass of confusion, to lay concealed in the chaos.

"I can be happy there," I thought.

However, I now knew different. I knew that living in this realm, this place, this earth, was a never-ending struggle, and this was an unavoidable Truth. For within life we taste incessant death, and in death we find the doorway to life. So, it is here that I stand in the green shadow of death, crippled by this asylum and I watch helplessly as my soul is sucked dry by ignorant deeds and wanton desires, and for this I am judged. For in this defiant end, ironically lay the wispy strands of the beginning.

Like shockwaves, it vividly ripples through my mind as I can still visualize each city, the desert, mountains and sea, all of nature’s bounty. In this crisp breath of purified air, I inhale again the intoxicating ups and downs, the tears and laughs, the flesh-biting shackles and the unbridled freedom. My spirit flies above these places, and I look down upon this now familiar world fueled by my surging memory. Those fleeting experiences race through my mind as sharp flashes of lightning, and my soul recognizes that this was an opportunity to pass through those experiences necessary for development. For all souls either devolve or evolve, nothing remains static, and one must actively pursue its natural course to experience the latter, and this natural progression not only occurs linearly but also it is effectual in all dimensions simultaneously. This journey has been a profound excavation of the soul, and a release of the toxic physical constraints of this material world. Yet am I now a prisoner to those memories, those life-enriching moments, for I feel that they have come to an abrupt end? In this final breath of ethereal air and freedom, I feel my solemn death. Anubis stands before me and his presence distinctly resonates that my judgment is forthcoming.

However, it is within this death, that the demise of the physical has occurred, where the light has breached the vapid, still darkness and vivifying ichor now flows within my mortal veins. For it has been a journey around the world, but also one to awaken the soul within my physical being to the light. This journey has been one distinctly inward. For the first time I have conquered the maddening illusion, and I no longer fear absolutely the shadow that dances at my side. In this profound victory, one achieved by delving beneath the random associations, perceptions and prejudices haplessly created by waxen minds, Truth now prevails over any sense of belonging. This rolling river of Truth, one that flows within each of us, flows back toward the watery loins of creation, and so a greater truth now prevails upon my being. It permeates my spirit and it was this intricate "underlying pattern" that delicately guided this magical transition. Even more, as I embraced its massaging fingers, I embarked upon a unique sojourn, one from being controlled by the physical three-dimensional world to understanding my "soul-self" as a distinct, even detached, entity. I am not my physical body, I am not the physical environment around me, and I am not even a being designed in this time, this realm. Rather, I am a separate entity; my soul is only a component of the physical, bound temporarily in this place, in this time. I only manifest in the physical, from my cells to my overall appearance, which permits my inner self to become a part of, and even alter, the physical world through my thoughts, spirit, and will. My being pierces the physical, and dangles distinctly, conspicuously in the light, untethered by the shackles of the material world, and I sense absolutely this angelic freedom. I found those elusive whales, the dolphins twirls about me, and I sense the Oneness within this, our massive playground.

As I look at Bren in the seat next to me, it strikes me just how far we've come together, just how different we are from those two undefined stragglers who left Pittsburgh seven months ago. We began this journey together, and now we are finishing it together. Within this circle, I know that we did it completely on our own, together we challenged life, and in the end, we literally conquered the world. It feels much like it did at the beginning of our trek into the Himalayas. I remember as we looked up at the Annapurna Range, we recognized the struggle before us, we could see it as it consumed the senses, this tangible composite of rock, jungle, and snow. Here, we were alone, with no one to rescue us, to help or motivate us. Together, we tested our fortitude, our desire, our constitution in the arduous climb. Ironically, I now stand before this same mountainous range in my mind, as my destiny calls forth, to use those same tools to move toward this light, this light of creation and of our fated end. I see it, I feel it, and for now I just stare at the towering stretch of earth rising, much like the pyramids and Red Rock, before me. It holds me rapt with its inherent design and the machinery thumps the beat of my destiny into the air, into this earth, and it beats simultaneously with every retraction of my heart.

By ourselves, with only the other to rely upon, we created interdependence, this faith in one another; we created a bond that will forever endure. We created our own "ring of protection" together. I see that clearly, and I sense that it is a composite of what binds us all, and indeed what forges the path to our Oneness. In this modern age of infidelity, we found trust; in an age where image controls, we found purpose beneath the skin; in an age where focus is on the physical, we found something within the spirit. And in an age where the easiest road is always preferred, we challenged ourselves by taking the uncommon path and along it we found a sense of our significance, faith, and destiny—those intangible pieces necessary to understanding who we are and where we are going as human beings. We challenged together, struggled together, and discovered together, and in this process, we built such a unique and deep bond with each other, one immersed in baptismal waters of Faith. It was here that we splashed in the essence of being human.

I stare at her profile, and I feel it distinctly. Even now, as the trip reaches its terminus, I feel her presence deep within, I feel Faith.

"But why do I have to fight the light," I thought, "Why do I have to make these grave sacrifices?"

I recline the seat and close my weary eyes and envision the trip's beginning in Las Vegas. I can see it all, practically every minute, and it surges through my veins just as naturally as my blood. My mind, my memories though, are the pump that propels it along, and give it life. They are the heart of this journey backward in time. I reflect on the Cook Islands, to Garrett and Roaro, two individuals who found the essence of peace and happiness within this world. They escaped the shackles of the chaos and followed their hearts into the darkness where they confronted their personal truth. Within this battle they ultimately found a deeper sense of themselves and an awareness of the world around them. They set their lives on a track few of us do. Instead of allowing life to simply jerk them around by the neck and make excuses when it doesn't turn out the way desired, they fought back. They confronted the suffering inherent in our daily existence, and they reached out to the world around them and took the risk of believing. Here, they found a sense of happiness.

In a world fervently determined not to live with faith if it can be avoided, we seek servility for it is easier to be shackled than free, we seek independence for it is safer than interdependence, and we seek to live in an illusory world for we erroneously believe that it is a "reality" we can control. I again close my eyes and thought of the woman in Hermanus, who seemed to sense the struggle which laid ahead for us. Indeed, she looked to us as beacons for change; she looked to us for hope. That feeling of expectation now stabs within me, and I desperately cry out for someone, anyone to grab the handle and pull it out, to stop the pain, the agony within this realm. I thought of the tour group through Southern Africa, and the dramatic changes to each of us, and it was a striking reminder of the power in the human spirit, if so directed. I thought about all the "coincidences" that directed me toward understanding my path. Oh, the illuminated pattern, which took us to places, to people, to the epicenter of myself, and showed me the vibrant power, the vibrating beauty, and the magnetic magic of this place. I thought about my "test," and I thought about the Great Pyramid and Uluru.

"But why does my path have to be so different from my personal desires?" I thought.

"Bren, you remember back in Nepal, when I said we'd have to go back and help change the direction of America?"

"Yeah, I remember," she said solemnly knowing something loomed.

"Well, do you think that's my path, my destiny, to somehow participate in this change?"

She looked out the window at the expansive surface of the planet and said sullenly, "Yes, I do."

"But why? It's not something I want. I mean, I can see the awful fight that lies ahead, and it will undoubtedly call for so many personal sacrifices. Why do I have give up my dreams?"

"I know, babe. Believe me, I given this a lot of thought, but I think it's because of Mary Matthews' faith. She's not the only one, you know," Bren said drifting off in thought out the plane window.

"Completely ironic don't you think?" she continued still looking out the window, "That what you so desperately searched for, now binds you to your future. It’s your destiny. I do know that it's your path; I think I was convinced of that all the way back in Bali. I know it's difficult to understand and accept. Just think though, is your path now my path? Do I have to sacrifice my dreams for a path that not a single soul on earth may realize the purity of our intent? Do I have to sacrifice my dreams for a path that may not even be mine?"

"There's just so much to handle, it’s overwhelming."

"Honey, we both believe that there's an underlying pattern to the universe, and now we believe in it strongly. We have been taught through so many lessons on this trip to simply trust it. So," she said with a lingering pause, "I hate to break this to you, but I think you already know the answer to your question. Remember your test?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, the Pemberton Tree, Bri, the Pemberton Tree."

I laughed as I looked back out the window flying through the heavens of earth, I laughed for I knew she was right. I was indeed back on the rungs, terrified by this light of the truth, petrified to accept my destiny. Maybe, just maybe, this was the end, this was the final round of this "test," and indeed, I knew it was. My time had arrived, and it would be ironically the third crossroad since the beginning of my life. The first as I stood at the partner’s desk, deciding if I should pursue Mary’s case—and my legal career hung in the balance. Then the second, whether to experience life beyond the logical and grip the outstretched hand of faith—and my life hung in the balance. Now this, the third, to confront the blinding light of Truth and Destiny—and quite possibly, my entire existence hangs in the balance. This was the "test," and I saw it stretching out before me as plain as the blue ocean out my window. I saw it stretching from the Great Pyramid into the Duat above. It was my genesis to my end. I saw clearly my entire existence stretching outward into the grayness beyond.

I drifted back in the reclined chair and slipped away in thought, my eyes closed, my body relaxed, and my mind took me back to Fiji. I thought of the boat ride with Aponu through the driving storm, and my fruitless search for faith. I thought about the day my journal was stolen, the day I dropped to my knees in the dirt crying, feeling so helpless, so lost. I thought of the search for the journal, which ironically, was a search for something else altogether, the search for understanding, for the ever-elusive Truth. I thought of Eebu and the Tioman monk. I thought about the strange storm in Thailand, and the life-altering epiphany at the top of the world in the Himalayas. I thought about faith. I thought about the enriching voyage through Africa’s wild forces and the final stop in the chaotic and mad world of Egypt. And finally, I thought about this unbelievable journey, a magical search for that which binds us, that which binds humanity and provides the significance to our existence.

I knew as I sat on this plane high above the ocean on the cusp of another comfortable sleep that I was shown the underlying pattern to the universe. Indeed, I was also shown the pattern inscribed within my self. I was shown my path within this formidable expanse, and along this journey, I was shown how to trust in it, how to have faith. I was shown a grandeur so special that I am still in awe of the experiences, the journey, and that I was a part of it. It's been an awkward and trying experience to let go of the handlebars and simply close my eyes; it has taken everything within me to trust something that I couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, and couldn’t touch. I felt like I did learning to dive, awkwardly flopping about in a watery wonderland filled with elegant creatures gracefully gliding all around me. I felt like I was the alien in this world. But I now cling to this unknown, this unseen world, and hold it tightly to my breast where I can feel its presence, its warm, subtle fingers gently massaging my soul. I feel comfortable in my existence, and although I don't in my purpose, I trust it nonetheless.

I laughed to myself, I smiled, my insides trembled with the thought of this strength that now exists within and flows through every part of me. I thought back about the slow, wearisome struggle to find this faith, the process of discovery. But the answers now seem to flow unimpeded through my mind. It began with the faith in myself, Mary Matthews' faith, and understanding what she saw, what she believed in, what she hoped for. After Eebu’s remarkable visions, I inherently questioned the one-dimensional perspective I had of the world around me, and that’s when it all began. That’s when I began the struggle to let go, to learn about a world that I couldn’t see or touch, it was then that I began to understand faith. In Malaysia, this shaky beginning was fortified within the "underlying pattern of the universe" as the monk in Tioman showed me. I then finally learned to have faith in my fellow man, the faith I discovered with Bren in the midst of the Himalayas on top of the world. I found that I, that we, are actually part of something, part of the underlying pattern of the universe, and that within it lies a good, pure, noble, and virtuous pursuit for each one of us. I have faith in my part in this universe, my tiny role in our evolution and even in that of God's, and although it may not be significant, therein lay my humility, my humility in being part of something infinitely larger than myself.

As I finished the stream of thought I realized that Bren was correct, I already knew the answer.

My destiny is sealed, I have only one choice of two, to accept and embrace it, or not.

Kafka breaks his silence and whispers, "You never thought being an insect would be easy did you?"

I stand in this light of Truth now. My existence has been challenged, possibly prior to my entrance into this realm. And every past life leads miraculously to this isolated point in time, a time that was always meant to be, a time that everything I experienced in this realm and beyond points; yes, it points to this fragile grain of sand I hold on my fingertips.

The choice is clear: Do I blow it away or close it into the palm of my hand?

***************

"We're home. We're finally home, Bri." Bren said sanguinely as the wheels of our plane touched down. Memories of the trip raced through my mind, all the places, all the people, all the experiences, and I was filled with intense sorrow. As we walked from the plane I saw a small American flag in the hall of the terminal ramp, I heard everyone speaking English, I saw familiar-looking faces, and I instantly became energized. With every exciting step upon my native soil naturally another followed with gloom as it was the journey’s end. So the torment continued, back and forth charging between deep melancholy and resounding cheer. This confusing haze of emotion continued as we walked through the terminal, where everything around me seemed familiar and yet strangely foreign. The sights, sounds, and smells floated around with me their usual familiarity, but something seemed out of place, indeed something seemed different. Something lurked, troubled, cold and distant; some part of it was my home and some part definitely was not. We arrived at the line for immigration dazed and wilted, anxiously awaiting our official re-entry to our home. As we stood in the line designated specifically for "Nationals," it smacked me, the gelid claw reached deep into my gut as I realized that it was me; I was different.

"How long were you two gone?" the immigration officer asked in clear English.

"Just over half of a year," Bren replied.

"Well, how does it feel, how does it feel to finally be home?"

His question rung through my head, "How does it feel to be home?"

I didn't know.

"I feel almost disoriented, it feels strange, odd somehow," I answered.

"This is strange place my friend, and growing stranger all the time!"

As we turned and began walking away he called after us with smile, "Hey guys, I forgot, welcome home, welcome back to the United States of America."

My spine tingled, I could feel my heart beating madly in my chest, and I stopped to look around me, to gaze at the America of my dreams, my America. I knew at that moment just how much I loved this place, how much I loved America, and how much the Stars and Stripes meant to me. I felt it deep and intensely within, and ironically, I knew in this feeling was my strength. It was my source of courage to continue the struggle, to confront the Truth, and no matter how ugly or distorted to walk to the light.

"Isn't this awesome, we're home. We're finally home. It feels so good to be home. I just love this place!" Bren yelled as she danced jubilantly through the terminal toward baggage claim, where we would pick up our bags for the final time.

Entranced, I stopped. I couldn't speak. I gazed around through this obscure reality, the terminal was spinning, and all melded into one giant spiraling collage.

Bren stopped and looked tentatively at me, "What's wrong, babe?"

She stared intensely and grabbed my arm, "Babe, hey, c'mon what's wrong?"

"We cannot fail!"

"What? What the hell are you talking about?" Bren said placing her face squarely with mine, "Oh no, c'mon, Bri, don't start this stuff up already. We just got home. Can't you at least give me a couple days to enjoy it all!"

I stood before her bound in such beautiful pain, such tormenting splendor.

"Oh, babe," Bren said sensing my fragile state and hugging me as she began to tear up, "It's okay, now, we’re home," she whispered in my ear.

"I know," I said heartened, full of confidence, "I know we are home. I don't think I understood what loving your country, loving humanity, truly meant until just now. It's so deep, so painful, and yet filled with tender empathy. I feel the love; I really feel it, I look around and I see the faces, they are the faces of the infant I saw on that balcony in Cairo, they are all around us, everywhere I look I see the faces of that baby."

Bren looked up at me and smiled softly as I said, "And for this, I know we cannot fail."

***************

When I sit back and breathe in the life of America, instinctively I can only help but cough, for we as Americans live in a pop world of pretend. This realization was palpable, and it had a reckless life of its own as the months slowly faded. I was still acutely dazed by culture shock, and it emanated from returning to my own country, to my home. I was mired in a flinty fog, perplexed by the culture that bore and raised me, the culture that made me one of its own. When we were traveling, as much as I realized my "streams of thought" about America were on some level accurate, it was nonetheless disheartening to be immersed in it again. It shook the foundation of my being, as every day I felt as if I was being flung from point to point by remote control, and I was again engulfed by this raging ball of negative energy, this prosaic depot of diseased minds and poisoned souls. The asylum only reinforced my insanity, and it solemnly drove me deep, deep into a dark pit of disarray and chaos, where only the Great Pyramid stood out.

As the months wore on, I took a step back and observed first hand this madness that gripped America. Not only were many of the problems that had infiltrated the populace before we left not addressed, but the culture seemed to be growing worse, the problems more complex, the pain deeper, and the people more brooding. It was a chilling perspective, and it seemed that Bren and I were the only ones who shared it. One simple look around revealed: children brutally gunning down classmates on their own school yard, arbitrary shooting sprees by seemingly upstanding citizens, the Clinton-Lewinsky saga, and the brazen hostility of the average American in everyday situations. The strangling threads of apathy and complacence were donned like pieces of clothing each morning, racism and prejudice were alive in plain view, and the legs of Democracy were indeed being sheered in a subtle movement toward a parliamentary system. When I sat back in the armchair of America, I saw that this seemingly innocuous pill had been slid deftly into each of our mouths. Instead of spitting it out, however, we had for the most part, swallowed it whole and gone on with our usual business of the day. America behold for your soul has been poisoned. Its people now, and including the leaders of this nation, blatantly disregard the laws, our sacred ideals, and sadly, the deceit doesn't cower in the corner of the darkness, no it dances in the open light, it dances on the tainted soil of red, white and blue. Each one of us within the borders of America has changed; we’ve sold out our essence and freely given away our souls for a "Dream" that offers nothing more than an illusory picture of a utopian world. Sadly, it’s only utopian because the Dream is filled with material objects of our desire, not because it harnesses an even remotely "perfect" world. It is the illusion.

I couldn't understand why no else saw it. For me, it served as a violent reinforcement of all that I had learned on the trip, all those moments of confusion, struggling to understand this hardened truth and to embrace it. I knew then that my heart-felt trials and tribulations were accurate, and so it was here that I stepped into the scorching light of Truth about America. The pain I knew lingered in the light, I now felt. I was back in the corner of the hostel in Cairns, where I first confronted the truth, and bore its pain. I felt abandoned, alone, betrayed, and it became ever so difficult to continue the fight against this tidal force that seemed always on the verge of collapse overhead. The internal struggle had taken hold, and all that I had been taught over those seven months, I desperately clung. I reached deep inside to rely on the new found strength and faith as I lifted my head to bear the weight of this penetrating reality. I knew more than at any other time that I had to accept my destiny, and once I accepted it, and its fortune or misfortune, I had to embrace it with the full force of my being. I had to rely on the spiritual truths, those ideals that were dramatically revealed from the underlying pattern, because to deny this now would be to deny my entire existence in this plane.

So I had no choice but to gaze upon this languid state of entropy in America and its fading future:

I contemplate the man in Iowa whose daughter has been raped, her body freely maimed and tortured, and the man he knows committed this heinous act sits on the stand, before her father, before the court, before America, and before God. The accused commits perjury, and in turn, so do his friends. He is found "not guilty" by inconsistent evidence and is freed. The father falls uncontrollably to the floor and cries out for the injustice done by the hands of this court, indeed of his country. My heart grieves for this innocent man and his bitter heart. My heart grieves for this America, because this rapist was only led by example, an example established by us. It is we the people, who taint the purity of the process of justice and honor. It is we the people who have become tainted. It unrelentingly rolls on as my heart grieves for the child’s life stripped away in an instant by the gunfire of another child who was filled with unnatural rage and violence. I grieve this wasted life because of a clear lack of appreciation for the fragility of life on earth. Yes, this precious soul banished, the corpse but thrown onto the flesh-burning holocaustal fire, for again, it is we the people who create this madness, this stinging virtual reality. It is but our failure. Even more, I grieve for a generation who, much like the AIDS victims in Zimbabwe, have become forlorn souls drifting through time and space generating an Orwellian template for satisfying their programmed material desires. Those so spawned from dual-income families, dual sets of parental units, dual lifestyles, dual sets of principles; yes within this fragile bubble of broken promises, broken vows, broken marriages, broken homes, broken dreams, in this broken duality, this wanton mockery, these souls have been abandoned. Sleep, for in this vast paradise we rest our content heads upon soft, cottony pillows and magicians dance around us. We dream, we live within this dream, and in it we have become the dream. I awake. I stare intensely upon this dream and all its perverse creations, and I wonder: But where does it end, where does it begin?

In a hallway just off the Oval Office, does he mock us in an egomaniacal stance of arrogance? Does he laugh at our flighty ignorance and unfailing apathy as he strikes up the band to the good old tune, "God Bless America"? As I hearken back to our tour through Southern Africa, I remember thinking that, "We are what we accept," and no situation bears out this painful truth any clearer than what is happening in America. What we accept is a form of creation, for we create implicitly nonetheless a world through our ignorance and inaction. Is this blatant blindness that assails the people like a plague a sign of the self-inflicted end? Indeed, I stand at Death’s Gate and watch this paragon of faith and freedom sucked asunder into the bloody sea and I watch its potency of life float westward.

For what is this place called America?

It was my first year in baseball; I was 7. My father explained to me, "Son, you must learn to be a leader on this team, someone must step forward and accept the responsibility for the others."

"But, I don't want to Dad, I just want to play baseball, I just want to think about hitting that ball into the trees, I just want to throw the ball as hard as I can, I want to slide head first into third; Dad, I'll I want to do is play ball."

"That's fine, but you must learn to win, to win with integrity, and don't you want the others to feel about baseball the way you do?"

"Oh yeah, Dad I do," I returned enthusiastically.

"Well then, you must become the leader, you must show them, you must be the example. Otherwise, no one else will. Or worse, someone will step up who doesn't care about the game the way you do, someone who doesn't care about the integrity of the game, someone who doesn't understand that this, son, is baseball."

"Why can't the others just understand, why don't they just know."

"Because they don't, everyone sees things differently, you must show them what you understand, you must express how you feel about baseball—not with words but action."

"I think I understand," I replied hesitatingly.

"But a leader, Brian, a true leader never accepts the positive, the reward, and he always takes the blame. To be a leader, you must step up when something has gone wrong, you take it in the chest, and when things go right, you move back and take a seat."

"I kinda understand, but if I hit the homer that wins the game, then I won the game, right?" I asked.

"Did you? If you hit the game winning shot, and you pronounced that you won the game, how would that make the others feel? If someone else pitched and homered and you only played the field, how would you feel then?"

"Pretty bad, I guess."

"I know you would, now think of that same person but this time he said we won the game, those who fielded, those who pitched, those who sacrificed the runner, those who gave up the glory for the team, won the game—then you would feel apart of the team, apart of the winning. That's being a leader."

"I think I understand now."

What ever happened to doing what was "right," having principles, lustily living life with integrity, and being willing to stick your neck out for others and a righteous cause? I thought that was the American way, I always thought that's what made us different, we Americans, that's what made America. Now, I sit here and realize that it's not true, that again, I've been deceived. Did my grandparents feel this way, my great grandparents, did they also feel this knife of betrayal digging mercilessly into their backs, was it always this way in America, or have we just in the last generation become this horrifying monster? I know the founders of this country would turn their backs on us today as a sign of what we've done with their precious gift; surely they croon from their graves with spite and contempt for this American world. I distinctly remember on the ferry in the Sydney harbor that we are the antithesis of the creators of this great land, and it only took one look at my home after returning to realize with pinging clarity its truth.

We have elected people who glorify rather than lead, who take rather than give, who care only to maintain rather than create or innovate, who would rather lie to save their own hide than tell the truth and preserve the integrity of the people of this country.

"Mr. President," I called out from a sweaty, hazy dream, "You poison our hearts and souls, what do you say for this?"

"I say they were poisoned long before I got there!"

"But Mr. President, what about our children, our precious, innocent children, the babes we hold in our arms?"

"Don't be naive son, they are poisoned in the womb. This is America!"

Indeed, this is an America ruled by petty politics, hopelessly entangled in frivolous games of control. This is an America mired in narcissism and ruthlessness. This is an America where the system has gone obtrusively awry, a system of indiscreet manipulation and exploitation. Democracy, our executive branch, and our judicial system, have all been brought to their knees. They stay silent and still, awaiting; awaiting their final execution. The American way, the heart of America, hangs precariously in the balance and our leaders, our elected officials, the bickering sides of the political game, the media, all haggle, even continue to manipulate, over insignificant, irrelevant details. How can they even claim to care about America? They do not care about the people of America, the fragile future of this country, or that of humanity. And, strikingly, it didn't begin with the current string of scandal, violence and pop news; no, it all began back with the assassination of JFK and the war in Vietnam.

"Mr. President, what should we do now, how do we save our nation?"

"You're asking me," he said with a laugh, "You know many people will blame me in the years that follow, but I didn't start this...no, America did."

I wriggle in my sleep, I toss and turn, "But you must do something!" I cry out.

"Please, you must do something."

"Do what?" he said in exasperated disbelief, "Son, I'm only the President. Either way I will be crucified, it’s inevitable in this world we have created."

Sadly, and most remarkably, America's path has been our choice. We have made America the way we desired it, we have shaped in God’s palm the destiny of demise. We've permitted this deterioration, we have made the conscious choice to watch these horrors, to watch the diseased dream obscure our vision and direction, and now will my generation watch America crumble? We decided to give up after the Vietnam War; we made the collective choice then, all because it was just easier. Ever since, we've placed our efforts into isolating ourselves even further from the savage chaos that grips our country's throat. We chose instead to stay in our comfy boxes and permit the rampaging, generally ruthless and cynical media to decide for us, to be manipulated by the world of the Internet and television. We have freely given away our control. We’ve become robotic cogs in the economic wheel, and as such we have destroyed our autonomy and individuality.

Indeed, we've become mindless toilers.

"Hello, is anybody home?" I said out loud to myself.

"Don't bother even trying son, nobody's listening. Believe me, I know," someone said from behind me.

I quickly turned around, "Oh it's you Mr. President."

As long as we were getting something from the system, we have decided to simply let it be. Do we feel that we have this "right" because our forefathers worked so diligently in the creation of the system, that we now owe nothing back—that we no longer need to sacrifice? Regrettably, if you strip the dollar bill away from our hands, that's what we will finally respond to, that's what will cause our hearts to ache and our palms to sweat, that's when we will finally open our eyes; not, mind you, to the pillage of our honor, integrity, and principles. It's a devastating and haunting reality, this sad state of America my friends, for we have been bought. We've sold out; we have prostituted our souls for yet another dollar, and we Americans have become the ugly horror of this precious planet.

"No thanks, Mr. President, I don't think we’ll be betting this time. I think we'll just hold on to our $100!"

This ball of fire burns deep within me, I cry out, freedom, ring true, ring freedom ring. I am still, calm, as I lie in the bottom of the boat in Fiji. The storm is all around me, it grows and strengthens, but I search not for faith this time but for freedom. In the long-anticipated return home, it rages, I feel helpless, daunted not by that which is unseen, but rather by those elements that I can see so clearly. I am torn, tortured, by that which sits conspicuously before me, dangling in the open light. For what seemed utterly incomprehensible before the trip, to have faith in the unseen, I am now lost and out of touch with the world that is plainly before me. I search for freedom in the land of the free, and I weep, for no one is at the helm, and the ferocious storm now controls my little boat.

How can this happen; what have we done? Is this what my Generation is left with, this our prescribed destiny of flames? And what, we are programmed to believe this is the best it’s ever been? How can we peer from the corner of our eyes and yet so easily turn our backs?

I remember thinking on the trip through Southern Africa that the principles of Democracy seem to be crumbling with each passing day, and I unfortunately now see the demise of our system first hand. This sickly stone has been hurled into the core of our government, into the lungs, which for a couple centuries has breathed life into this great land, and it has now invaded and poisoned the bloodstream of the American people. Democracy is collapsing because we cannot handle our individual responsibilities, and the leaders we elect lack the character to uphold the ideals and principles we once held sacred, those simple truths that made us Americans. Simply, we have lost faith in these leaders, and we'd rather turn our heads than see the ugly face of this glaring reality.

I glance upward to the Duat above me, I see the overwhelming blackness swarming around those tiny isolated points of light, I feel the pervasive subrogation of my creative energy within, the darkness stings, and a single tear slowly drips down my cheek. The battle looms, sides are indeed being chosen and we must go to War. Dharma, the spiritual force that counters the corrosive toxins, must combat entropy, the force that compels all into decompose into a state of inert uniformity. These are forces inherent in the Universe, our world, America, and within each of us. The slaughtered lamb lay at our feet along with the lily and the choice now must be made.

"O’ Creator, don’t abandon us, like we abandoned you? Please, put the golden shears down. We can change."

The wind whips with fury and dried, dead leaves swirl around me. The green grass is scorched, the trees fall limp, and the acidic sea boils furiously. Blackness envelops this world where the howling wind sounds of nature’s demise, and I taste this palpable death upon the buds of my tongue. However, from the beaming stars above I sense the musical call of the Duat vibrating within the depths of my soul. I am caressed by Nature, its rebirth, by our connection, and the focused light seductively sings to me. My being is drawn, absorbed and for a brief moment I become a part of it. However, virtually in that same instant, it all suddenly stops. I stand again amongst this nature’s demise, alone, and as the wind burns my flesh, I meld with those leaves, those stars, and my tear is forever dried.

We all know where this is going; indeed, we watch it everyday, we just don't see it. We sit idly in the darkened corner of Plato’s Cave and watch our children's souls being sold, we watch the ball of violence freely bounce through our neighborhoods and into our homes, we watch the proliferation of irresponsibility, we watch issues of race tear at the fabric of our colorful blanket of red, white and blue, we watch our government's patent weakness on terrorism, we watch the ineffectual, and often hypocritical, attitude we maintain toward other countries. Here in the cave, we believe that the shadows exist, that our world is doused in reality. It's downright ugly, and no one wants to watch it, no one wants to see it, no one wants to walk outside to bask in the painful light of Truth. So we audaciously live in this magician’s illusion, but we must at least know of what atrocious consequence looms, we must see the hand that will choke the life from our collective souls as a result of such insolent blindness. We must see our grossly deformed hand wickedly slapping the face of our founders, our forefathers, those who so constructed these hallowed laws and sacred principles—those past Americans who cared about integrity, about equity, equality, and the right to pursue freedom and individual liberty. As the noose tightens, as we await the fateful one to knock the chair out from beneath us sending us to our grisly death, we certainly owe them at least this much, that we understand what it is we do. We must gaze upon the cracked looking glass to see that we have chosen a path that diminishes each of us as Americans, but more importantly, it denigrates the sanctity of being human. We must recognize our failures, our now programmed automation, and possibly the greatest human sin—turning your back on your fellow man. In this chosen path, it terrifies me for I wonder if we have become the curse for humanity, because with this path we take in large part the rest of the world?

What ails us now, will become patently obvious in the course of the next few years. Our domestic problems will become glaring if not addressed, while we will lose even more respect throughout the world. It is imperative that we see and understand our plight, our path, our destiny, for we cannot fail in this pursuit. The world is moving toward more instability with each passing day, and with it will come many more times of crisis, and in return, more calls for aid. Strikingly, one day, it could even be our call. These issues that will confront us, and indeed the entire world, will be of a magnitude not ever seen before in the history of humanity. It will be unprecedented. We can already see the fine threads of these complex problems, worldwide economic troubles, cascading environmental issues, overpopulation, reckless genetic engineering, global discord and animosity, terrorism and nuclear weapons in the hands of the impetuous and erratic. What brings such devastating potential to the world’s table is that every problem will be inextricably intertwined, and without proper preparation, one simple failure could become the fatal failure for all. We know this day is coming, and we feel its looming presence.

There is only one hope for mankind. There is only one country that can instill stability, one that can snatch harmony from chaos, only one that can help humanity brace for the onslaught that is undoubtedly forthcoming. Yes, there is but one.

And it is the United States of America.

The world needs a true leader, and the trumpets now echo from the firmament for this great nation to rise above itself and come to the podium.

I stand in front of the students in the round, rotund college classroom. They were to read a draft of one of the chapters in this book and comment. I walk silently in front the black, brown, white, and yellow faces before me, I stand beholding the clutches of the "X" generation, the generation of global change. They stare back, these divine markers of diversity, these innocent souls patiently waiting. We wait together, and in this silence I understand.

"Before we get started," I hesitatingly remark, "I'd like to know how many of you, by a show of hands, believe that America is headed in the right direction, that we are moving toward something you believe in?"

I stare out at the class of twenty or so where a mere solitary soul raises his hand.

"Okay, how many of you believe that humanity is headed in the right direction, that we as human beings are moving toward something you believe in?"

I again stare out over the class, where not a soul raises a hand.

It was moment of delicate balance, of harmony. I fell back onto the desk in front of them, dazed, but comforted, almost at ease. I stared out among these souls, the vestiges of the "X" generation, and indeed they had spoken. I looked into each of their eyes, and I knew it, I felt it as it flowed resoundingly through my veins, the circle had finally closed.

I was not alone.

I closed my eyes and drifted into a dreamy sleep, where I no longer saw me, I no longer felt me, I felt only us, I felt our Oneness, indeed I was this Oneness, and the line was drawn. I knew then that my destiny was ours, and that ours was mine. This interlocking link was inescapable. I could either accept and deal with this reality or choose to live outside it and buy into the grand illusion myself. I stared at the light glaring, blinding me, and I donned the fatigues emblazoned with a newfound strength, and I boldly entered its pervasive glow of blackness guided by the focused stream of light of this truth. It struck me deep and with tormenting pain, it knocked me back but I struggled onward filled with the white, pure energy of faith, I pushed on and accepted my destiny, and with it I slowly disappeared.

Together, must we, the "X" Generation, stand at Death’s doorstep; the Gate creaks open and into this fiery blackness must we descend? Is it here that we can only fathom the soiled depths to which we have all fallen? The world cannot change, humanity cannot evolve, destiny cannot unfold, if we as Americans cannot change ourselves first. Is it therefore the daunting task of this generation to rhythmically beat upon the drum of destiny and manifest those necessary changes in the psyche of our souls within the deteriorating walls of America? Does it become our responsibility to selflessly plant those precious seeds of Truth for generations to follow, and possibly for all of humanity? Must we, Generation "X," pledge our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor, to the inhabitants of this blue orb held delicately in this space and time? Is it our responsibility to attune to this Oneness?

Human nature is to fear absolutely change, even in light of knowing it for the better. It stands plainly before us, our distinctive Pemberton Tree, our fight for survival, our fight to be more than we are at this moment, our struggle to accept the pain of absolute truth, and yes the torment of uncovering and embracing our collective destiny. We must move in unison toward the light, the light of truth, and together bear the pain of change and accept our destiny. We must embrace the darkness of the unknown, and do it with the passion and uncompromising determination, in fully accepting the challenges that lie persistently before us. We are Americans, and in this lurid confrontation, we must not fail. I see it clearly now, but are we just that primitive, that arrogant, that ignorant, that we do not "see" this horrendous battle looming beyond on our horizon? Do we not feel it growing within? He speaks to each of us, the warmth of His breath is felt upon each of our foreheads, and we feel the silver link holding us within this physical realm. We are bound yet free. We are silent yet understand. We are harshly torn yet connected. We are afraid yet protected. And we are separate yet together. This Oneness, this vast chain of interdependence is not an inherent weakness, but a profound and penetrating strength, for it is within these precious links that lay the stimulus for cooperation, compassion and faith. It offers us, as human beings, our own distinct pattern within the chaos. Indeed, within this tiny universe of earth, not only does this Oneness exist between us as human beings, but it also exists between the environment and us. For in this earth, a completely self-sufficient and yet dependent environs, we find the sources of our own existence; that is, earth, wind and fire exist within the body, spirit and mind. Within this physical universe, we have been provided with medicines and sustenance to heal and sustain the physical Body, the tools within our Minds to understand this World of Consequence, and the beauty of Nature to transcend materiality with the Spirit.

Simply, the universe is within us.

Strikingly, we as Americans have the resources, the freedom, and the opportunity to foster change, to build and generate this inspirational state of mind—this Oneness. We have the opportunity for spiritual leadership amongst the people of this earth, and yet as Americans we are afraid of absolute freedom. Because with freedom comes inherent responsibility, responsibility to abide by an "aware" Self, and to promote this understanding and selflessness toward others. When we merely react to the environment, then the environment controls us, and in every sense of the word, we are no longer free. Is it even possible to find the essence of liberty without feeling compassion for all? I believe not. So, we can never ignite the torch of liberty for all of humanity until we ourselves are free; yes, until we accept the responsibility of being free and choose to apply its tenets compassionately to all. Unfortunately, we seek in this present day not the precepts of Truth, but merely the justification for what we value and yearn. Because what is freedom without the will to use or the compassion to foster it? It merely becomes another illusory ideal, one that fails to hold meaning because it can be manipulated at will, and sadly in America, that reality is generated and controlled by the few in power. So, it becomes imperative to not only accept this burden of responsibility for the future of Democracy, the future of humanity, but for our individual souls to taste this ethereal essence of freedom. It is here in this application of freedom that we will uncover the vision of change, a vision of our country as we desire it, a vision of the world, all of us as One, the way it was supposed to be, the way it must be. Why?

Because there is two questions that must be answered as human beings, two questions that must be confronted head-on in accepting our destiny to discover our purpose here in earth.

Who are we and where are we going?

On some fundamental level we already know the face of this truth—that our path leads to this crossroad. I hearken back to Eebu, and her visionary ways, I sense my previous incarnation as she portended and I now feel my rebirth within this realm. It is today that I have been reborn, it is today I taste death; for it is today that I no longer live within the illusion. Even more, I sense her words of wisdom, words that seemed somehow uncanny and yet were filled with a resounding truth, one I didn't understand. Indeed, it was a truth I didn't want to understand, to trust in the unseen, the unknown. It's difficult for us all. But on this level of the unseen, we actually do know. We all know that we have been called upon to rise up and accept this challenge, not only for our children and their children, but also for all of humanity. Maybe we all have been sent to this realm at this time for this precise battle. Nevertheless, unseen, distant, transient, it freely floats, it exists and we all feel it. It binds us, and we are all One even in this struggle. This is our strength; this precious bond of humanity, and it is here that we find our significance in this state of existence. Our time has arrived. However, are we going to look to each other to confront this path of destruction, or give in to our primal fears, much like we have to technology, money, and God? Are we going to rely on the easier path, the path of least resistance yet again, and continue to "react" to the environment around us and pathetically defer to God to save us? Yes, are we going to strike up our creative juices in preparation for inventing the means of rationalizing away our weakness, our blatant ignorance, and primal ways?

Our lessons here on earth are but a mirror of the next realm, and if we fail here, we may very well have charted a course for failure into the beyond. Why would it be any easier? Because this is not a godless universe? But why then would He make it easy for us, why would He strip us of the darkness—that which He knows is our path toward awareness and understanding? He wouldn’t. So, it must begin and end with us as individuals. And this progression begins with individual responsibility, for instead of looking to Religion or God to solve our problems, we must look inward. Ironically, it is this precise malady, looking for the larger entity to solve individual problems, which not only cripples us as human beings but also as Americans. We usurp our own power, our source of strength. When the mantra, "We the people" is disregarded as Americans and as human beings, you are then forced to rely on the larger entity for survival. When your manipulated version of "truth" is freely supplied to you like an IV through the Internet and TV, then you have given away your individual identities, because simply, you no longer think and therefore you can longer "act" upon your free will. The absolute Truth stands before us, our collective destiny is within "We the people" of this world, it is our strength and in it lay the genesis of our spiritual revolution.

Simply, we can no longer seek in others what we ourselves are capable.

However, there is only one. There is only one with the resources, the power, and the heart, to become this lighting rod standing tall and into the dark night sky during this raging storm. With it, we Americans must accept this responsibility. We must begin this pilgrimage, and embrace this journey to salvage the human spirit and direct it back onto the tracks of its divine destiny. The Duat calls, our beginnings beseech us, and the genesis of our souls now begs for our attention. Indeed, we hold hope in our meager hands, for we can and must begin the crux of change within our own borders to become the example. We must seek on an individual level happiness by daily reforming our souls into creatures of selflessness and compassion—the process of our Oneness. And from this paradigm, from this ideal we can begin the search for our purpose, and answer those two profound questions—who we are and where are we going? We have a special opportunity as present day Americans, one that quite possibly has never before existed in the history of mankind. We have the opportunity to begin the process of change that might one day, generations from now, culminate in a unified planet of peace, one that unites us, and one that brings us a step closer to God.

Don’t we inherently fear the nothingness we often feel; don’t we fear the void within our earthly existence? Don’t we fear the razor-sharp scythe of Death? If so, then within this process of Oneness, we can banish those feelings forever. For again, we are insignificant in the whole of the universe, but in the universe there is nothing that is not us. Life indeed tells us that nothing is immutable, everything changes, everything evolves or devolves, but there is always something within the chaos that is inherently stable and it becomes the catalyst for directing that randomness positively. Ironically, America can be this vehicle for humanity to reach out to its destiny if we choose to accept its imposing burden. Indeed, one can change the whole. We just need the single domino to fall, the catalyst to ignite the flame. But are we as Americans, as human beings, as a collective, capable of beginning this spark of magic to our existence?

In this evolution of our spiritual side, it will take the differing religions and philosophies of the world to meld, to create one. As I reflect on the Buddhist monks, Taoism and Christianity, and the "tests" that have unfolded along this arduous journey, I sense through thousands of years of haze, a path toward those two questions, our purpose. The Great Pyramid, the Phoenix rises, swoops through the air and scoops up my insane, diseased corpse, but within this trip into the Duat, I see the piercing eyes of creation, I touch the grandeur of my existence, and my path as a human being. It whispers the Truth, and my soul closes to hear this tantalizing, elusive underlying pattern within us, and it says, "You are Nature, you are the Universe, and so rebirth is unavoidable. You will be born again and your course chosen, but it is by YOU that the path is designed. Therefore, what you seek, inevitably, you shall find."

I sense the path toward this lofty goal, and it’s a combination of all that we already are, all that we already know. Therein lay the power and wisdom, for its source is within each one of us and it speaks: Your mission in earth is two-fold. First, you must discover individual happiness and a sense of personal well being. However, as a result of your confusion in this realm (losing sight of your immortality, your oneness), you grow in fear and doubt—the corrosive toxins. This becomes the primary stumbling block, for it becomes the blindfold that keeps you from seeing a distinct side of Truth and leaves you in a self-confined prison. Even more, you’ve learned to absorb a pattern of thinking from the exterior surroundings, rather than from within. Indeed, you’ve learned to avoid the inherent conflict in living life and society demands that you avoid dealing with the natural daily suffering of this physical world. However, you must step from the cave of shadows and learn to celebrate the struggle by confronting those corrosive toxins that expands your clarity of mind. It is here that "happiness" will be discovered.

It is from this critical step, you can ascend to the second mission, to discover the purpose of Man in earth. And it begins and ends with faith. Faith is learned through experience with Nature, it is a life that is inhaled into the soul. If faith is not experienced, then it becomes transitory, and in this state it can be manipulated and easily dismissed. Ironically, therefore, faith begins with doubt. Doubt lay not in opposition to faith, but rather it becomes a crucial piece to understanding faith for without it you will never fully trust that belief, and it is from this doubt therefore that you grow to understand faith in its fullest. However, when you apply doubt, it is also crucial that you release your material fixations to become refreshed and encourage the influx of spirituality—the creative force. Yes, discovering and experiencing faith delicately hinges upon, contrary to prevalent Western thought, releasing control not by mindlessly attempting to grasp it. Open your soul and prompt the mind into action and spirituality will freely enter naturally. Once the mind is accorded this path, it will build toward reflective, logical awareness. Through our senses in the human condition, you can see and feel the world in every capacity and level—this creates compassion. By changing your perspective, seeking the black from white and white from black, you can come to a basic understanding of this world through the wickets of the underlying pattern. When you trust this, the underlying pattern, you will be attracted to the river of your destiny. From this basic insight we can "see" that all are one, all are interconnected. From this understanding laced with compassion, we feel the beginning of developing a selfless disposition toward others. As this world is based upon for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction, and what you sow you will reap, you will see that there is but one Way: Love. From this selfless behavior, our understanding, and love, we will with meditation and everyday practice eventually become an enlightened entity. The final step in our evolution here on earth might very well be an ultimate self-sacrifice, our own personal crucifixion—one that would embody our selfless enlightenment within the mind, body and spirit. Faith becomes therefore the lifeblood, the glue delicately holding each component together. Faith binds the process, this process of our Oneness; it is the bond of our humanity.

However, if our focused gaze is upon Nature to witness and learn this process of Oneness, then do we inherently strip away that which is pure, do we destroy that which is divine and chaste? Yes. But then how can we be a part of perfection if we are a contaminant of that purity and therefore how can we live within this pristine environs with impunity? Because it is an integral element in the order, the pattern, built within this chaotic system. To understand and become aware as human beings, we must necessarily experience. To experience, we must take what was infinite and make it finite within our mind; that is, to learn we must take those virtues of the infinite, and create a past condition—an experience. It is this element, which bears the frailties, the limitations, of the human condition. So, before any condition can exist within our mind, body and spirit—our soul, it must become a past condition from the infinite source. So, these virtues must be tainted and ravaged naturally, that is, with perfected intent—honor and integrity—for us to understand the purity of that virtue. Therefore, when our intent is pure—to learn and grow—when we take the steps through experience in this material world and taint these virtues, we are but becoming aware of these elements as virtues. To be selfless, we must become aware of selflessness as a virtue—we must learn to act without regard to the fruits of that act. But we can only do so if we know and understand precisely what those fruits may be. So, we must experience what it is to be selfish as well as the grace of giving back, we must take the infinite virtue of selflessness and taint it within our realm of experience to understand that it is virtuous, that we are to embrace its majestic qualities to become more Whole, more in tune with the unity of our place.

As the soul begins to experience this sense of the infinite with a finite mind and in a finite world, the soul gains an understanding of the true and pure, and discovers this "I am." The soul discovers a distinct awareness of Self. But is this "I am" merely of Self? No. It experiences the independence of Self, but one bound within a united and harmonic universe and that all creative forces are but one, and we are but one. With this awareness time and space disappear and we again return to the infinite. So to return home, to flow with the boundless, everlasting stream without beginning or end, back to the loins of creation, is to reverse the process—to bring the spiritual into the material, to bring the infinite into the finite. This process beckoning our return begins with a single essential element: Oneness. It is here that we begin to understand our connection in unconnected space. It is here that we begin to feel that we are our brother’s keeper, tethered together in cause and effect and bound singularly by karma. It is here that we are joined with the perfection of Nature. It is here that we sense the initial strands of "I am." It is here that we build a consciousness together and allow the creative forces of the universe to work in this savage material world. And this profound genesis must begin with a leveling of humanity, that all are equal, all are protected, all are connected, and all are one in creating One.

My defense is now presented, and I will be solemnly judged on the application of the infinite within this finite world. It is my test, and so it is for us all. But who is conducting this "test," this judgment of our souls? God? In this magical machinery that has been created in the underlying pattern, it becomes inherently inconsistent that God, this spiritual energy that embodies all, would judge or even have angelic agents judge, for why would God explicitly condemn "judging others" only to then judge us? No, we are all parts of the Whole, integral pieces of the collective, so we are individuals with separate thoughts and contributions but sharing a common destiny. The collective destiny is the fate of each individual and the evolution of their being, their mind, and spirit. This in turn is the evolution of the Whole, including God. We have the same origin, the same destiny, and the same mission. So, if the basis for our return is to be One, and all is interconnected even with God, then the Way must be consistent for us all as One. God therefore would not judge, rather the only one who could judge would be our individual Self. Anubis becomes merely a metaphorical symbol of our subconscious weighing our mortal heart against a feather; that is, he weighs just how much of the infinite, the spiritual world, we brought into the finite, material world, during our physical sojourn upon earth.

So the path onward and upward, the rolling river returning to the sea, this everlasting stream is merely a reflection of Self. Indeed, the path is seen in the Grand Canyon walls, for meeting Self and accepting responsibility for one’s actions in this life and beyond is a constant driving force, one that connects and disconnects at the calling of the underlying pattern. That is, should we fail to accept responsibility, we become disconnected; but like a rubber band, through karma, we are snapped back into the fold of consequence and placed in the same situation to be given another chance or placed in the opposing situation to be shown perspective. From each we learn, from each we judge our every step and from this we develop compassion and love. However, ultimately it is from introspective reflection and judgment of Self that is fountainhead of this spiritual reckoning, education, and growth. It is a constant revolving cycle of meeting of Self. This was my "test," a meeting of Self.

And so it is, once again, for us all.

I stand no longer upon the fragile precipice of earth. I no longer dwell singularly upon the tallest mountains, the depths of the revitalizing sea, or the shifting sands of a peerless desert, for it is all earth nonetheless. I am grateful for the challenges and obstacles this earth offers for it is but my reflection, and I celebrate the struggle through its ever-changing entanglement of jungle because in this festive journey, I am not alone. With a bright, eye-popping flash, Roaro and Aponu stormed before my mind’s eye, Jay and Lisa popped through, then Eebu, then the Thai monks, the Nepalese boys, Bugtu and Serenju, the Swiss, the Aussies, the Americans and Bren. They stand together, they smile, they laugh, and all sing a joyous melody of our creation, of our unity, and of our destiny. I see me joining this group and I fade away within its pervasive glow and I dream no more. We inhale the same breath, we ingest the same sustenance, we vibrate at the same frequency, and we look inward together to see the light of this resounding truth. We hold the white rose tossed back to us from the sea in our collective palm. We hold this Truth within our grip and we raise it high into the celestial air, for we all possess the wisdom, the strength, the fortitude that lay within the collective and we all in concert whisper the greatest message that could ever be spoken: "We are together and we are One."

Copyright © 2000 PbFisher. All rights reserved.