The titan island of Red Rock rises from the open plains and into the blue sky like it had been hurled through the air by the hand of God. This mammoth red hump in the earth’s crust emerges from the depths of this planet’s soul. It plunges forth, violently erupting through the surface to breathe the air, bask in the sunlight, and reach for the heavens. In a technological land, where cities sleep and mortal monikers roam, this simple Rock pierces the gloom of this prosaic fortress; it’s a purgative expression of pure energy. I feel its sanctified pulse immediately; this flaming crimson column rising naturally to the blueness is an idyllic vision for the Stylites of Old. I saw it my mind’s eye—this Rock was a magical oasis where prisoners became warriors, where the atrophied mind became pliable again, and the gelid heart regained its spiritual beat. I quickly gasped at this rejuvenating throne, which dutifully exposed my inner fears, and I beheld this timeless test of the soul. I now stood, my feet stuck, my eyes closed, and my spirit caught, in the swirling red sands before Uluru, or Ayers Rock.

Unlike the States, Australia has very few towns or people living in the heartland, as a significant majority live on the coastlines of this huge island continent. In this vast, open interior land, the Red Rock sharply ascends from the flat desert bed to over 1000 feet and runs nearly four kilometers in length. Delicately plopped in the center of this mysterious land, it is Australia’s heart, figuratively and literally, and it towers above me in its appeal, its awe. Like the Grand Canyon and Milford Sound, in these wonders of nature, there’s always something beyond the mere sight, and its majestic appeal lay unseen, beneath the surface. Something about them has a life of its own, they breathe, they live, and subtly draw you into their unique world. To me, this place was Australia. Uluru was the beating heart of the Outback and the Land of Oz; indeed, the Rock was the beating heart of life itself.

I stand in its unique shadow, I watch the red dirt swirl around its base as I lean in and stroke the warm skin of this breathing boulder. This rock has a distinct spiritual pulse, it calls forth from beneath its massive exterior, and its invisible magnetic beams search the vapid air for a soul to connect with, to harness and refocus its energy. Its bleeding energy oozes around my feet, and my body absorbs its magnetic force, it draws me into its matrix of life and I take in its purifying air. I think back to New Zealand and the question is now dramatically answered, yes there is a spiritual force within nature, and it affects and possibly even directs us as human beings. I feel my spirit invigorated by this ruby crown within the desert and I inhale its immortality. My head grows light as I feel the dolphins swarming around me, together our souls, the rock, the animals, and human beings swirl, caress and swim with each other. This sun of consciousness glows, its spicy rainbow fills me, and then it flickers several times and disappears. But I felt it, the sinuous spirit of this mountain of rock, this force of nature, and its magnetic guiding pulse. For those ineffable seconds, I was attuned to this earth. As the pain returns, the suffering within this scorched, virulent world, I am left with a reality that the genuine rewards in life are found in flickering seconds, seconds that be still time and rearrange space. Those moments within the world of the unseen, and much like Uluru where an astounding two-thirds of Ayers rock is said to lay beneath the desert sand, it calls forth from the depth of its soul and instructs.

Yes, destiny is funny for somehow we feel it but much like Uluru, most of it lay buried beneath the surface. For those who don’t believe in this tapestry within our lives, it is easily understood, for it is and always will be unseen, and as such it becomes merely a decision dwelling within the mind. Destiny however is often misunderstood as a ribbon of results, that your life is already played out before you live it; however, this precludes "free choice," and any force of nature can never supercede our will. No, destiny must be a ribbon of choice, a fated line that brings you to a crossroad, a distinct point in your life. The option then stands before you where it then leaves you to make that decision. It is one of the grandest elements of this place, those fateful days when you are brought face-to-face with fear, those days when the "struggle" smacks you in the mouth and leaves you to decide the course of your life. These are days that you instinctively "feel" much more than you observe or understand. Without a doubt, it is a piece of our existence that is so often overlooked, so often untended, untouched, and in it we miss out one of the purest elements of being human—meeting our destiny.

It was the day after our visit with the massive Red Rock and we had flown into Perth, the western-most city in Australia. We immediately rented a car and left Perth to tour the southwestern portion of Oz. The day was dreary and misty as we headed into the most impressive of Australia's national forests, an area referred to as simply "Tall Trees" for its collection of towering Karri, Jarrah and Tingle trees. On this grayish, limp day I felt it as it rolled up my spine and tingle the back of my neck. Everything around me—the smell, the taste, the touch, and my inner perception—all coincided and I felt this ribbon beginning to undulate within, to awaken. This was the day I would meet the Pemberton Tree (actually known as the Gloucester Tree), the highest fire lookout tree in the world. Among the millions of trees, my challenge prominently stood forth, it rose from the bowels of the earth into the gray sky and demanded that I beg for mercy. It openly taunted my spirit. I felt this day long ago, I felt this tidal flow of fear before this trip even began, and I knew as I stood before its intimidating height that the "struggle" was now plainly before me, the choice was now mine—for this was my destiny.

In a twisted sense, I had looked forward to this moment, a moment I would confront my intense fear of heights. The tree now towered above me, rising to well over 200 feet into the clouds above. Metal poles had been poked into the side of the tree winding around and around to the platform at its top, and nothing but my will would prevent a slip to the ground below. For me, it was daunting just to look up, as its intimidating height, its dominance hovered over me. Only one out of four who actually attempt to climb make it to the top, and I realized even prior to my first step that my confidence was beginning to sway with the brisk wind blowing this tree freely side to side. My heart swelled and uncontrollably lodged in the back of my throat, I knew that I asked for this, this challenge and yet I wasn’t prepared for the immensity of the task rising so prominently in front of me. I stood looking upward to the thicket of branches dancing in the wind; immediately my palms moistened, my throat dried, and my limp legs began to quake. I listened, terrified, as the wind whipped and it seemed that its howl through the branches was a sadistic taunt of roaring laughter. It echoed in my mind, this laugh, and I quickly glanced back to the car.

In this inauspicious moment, a middle-aged gentleman, who had earlier attempted the climb and failed, approached us and demurely asked, "Do you plan on trying to get to the top?"

"No doubt," I said excitedly, desperately trying to psyche myself up and conjure up the courage I hoped lay within.

"Yeah...I guess," Bren said with obvious hesitation.

"If you don't mind, I think if I tried with you two I might get a bit farther," our new friend, John, said with a shaken look, obviously still dazed from the first attempt.

"With me?" I said with a bit of shock as I looked around at the others standing around the tall tree contemplating the climb, "I have to tell you, I'm afraid of heights, really there's lots of others here who'd probably be much more help, much more reliant."

"No, no," he said with a stern look into my eyes, "I’ll go with you, if you don’t mind."

"Hey, are you sure that you’re talking to me?" I comically replied, looking over my shoulder.

"Yeah," he said laughing, "Who else would I be talking to? I have faith in you." That last part, with his words, "I have faith in you," seemed to shake his fear, and suddenly he seemed loose, prepared to confront this frightening task. I shrugged my shoulders still stunned as the statement continued to ring through the depths of my mind, that "faith."

"Well, I know you're going to the top," he said with a wink and a brief smile.

"Boy, that’s a hell lot more than I know. I wish I had that much confidence in myself," I said out loud as I thought about Mary Matthews—her faith, for here it was again. I looked up at the tree, to the top I could barely see, my legs now freely shook as I closed my eyes and took a deep, long breath of the fresh forest air. I sensed the pure and tangible tentacles of this "struggle" reaching ever inward to my core. I now inhaled this "struggle" with every breath and it had a life within me. As long as I yearned for this day, I now questioned my sanity, and searched for excuses to jump back in the car and completely forget this day.

"Bri, are you sure you really want to do this?" Bren then asked as if on cue. It was my time to back out with a measure of respect. Bren was deathly terrified and would never bring it up again; I could walk away and forget about this stupid tree.

Forget about it all.

The wind whipped with fury, and the taunting roar of laughter seemed to be growing louder. I looked back again to the car, to Bren, then I reached deep and exhorted myself, "No, I’ve got to do this. I’ll hear that damn howling laughter forever."

"Yeah, babe, I’m sure. Let's go, let's do it!"

"What...right this second?" John said shocked.

"Yeah, now?" Bren echoed.

"Why wait," I replied honestly afraid that if I waited much longer I wouldn't do it myself.

John approached the tree and reluctantly grabbed the first rung and began to climb; I was next and Bren followed. The rungs were cold and slippery from the recent rain, and as a result, I gripped each rung so tight my knuckles were turning white. I methodically grabbed the rungs one by one and simply refused to look down. After a mere 25 feet, however, this plan met its first bump as Bren exclaimed, "No way, this is crazy, Bri; I can't do it, I'm going back down!"

"Okay, babe," I quickly replied, thankful she wasn't in front otherwise forcing me to return to the ground. Bren then began her hasty retreat.

"One step, one reach at a time," I kept telling myself as I continued onward. My palms were sweating profusely, my legs were weak, my arms felt jelly-like for I couldn’t seem to grab the rungs hard enough to satisfy my fear; my head throbbed, freely bobbing side to side without control, and the air in my lungs even began to feel heavy. I asked for this, I wanted to confront my fear. About one-third of the way up or 75 feet, as I began to contemplate the full extent of my undertaking and Bren’s quick surrender, I met the face of fear head on. The demon stood prominently in front of me and I stopped. I took a deep breath. I tried again, but this time I couldn’t catch my breath and I felt panic riddling through my veins and take hold. I tried another, my chest partially expanded but I couldn’t get the air to inflate my lungs. Indeed, I could feel my palms, my legs and my head thumping in chorus; yes, my entire body whispered in unison, "You can't do it; go back down, go back down."

The wind raged through the branches, they swayed, and the taunting howl began again.

I attempted to inhale again, but I choked on the fresh air. I tried to move, but couldn't. I was frozen. My mind reeled, panic fully gripped by body, and I looked down. I clung to the rung with my whole body and never wanted to free my grip. Even the thought of going back down now seemed terrifying. I looked inside, desperate, where I felt something and tried to draw on it. I couldn’t, and it swallowed whole the fear and then sheer panic set in.

"Go back down, you can't do it!" shuttered through my shaken body, "You’re stuck, you idiot!" I thought as I pictured myself having to be pried away from the rungs by professionals. The wind moaned madly, eagerly sensing another victim within its vice-like hold. I could feel the sting, the choking grip of panic, the tears, the knifing pain, as this pervasive fear consumed me. It shook me to the bone, and I almost felt the urge to jump just to end the flood of dread.

"Stop!" I screamed out loud, my voice echoing through the tall trees. I looked inside one more time, determined. I knew I had to find something. I gritted my teeth, and my greasy fists gripped even harder the rungs as I took a quick glance down; I then looked up. I saw what I had already overcome and what I had yet to conquer. Something clicked and I convinced myself to challenge the fear; I had to, I had to fight with everything I had. After all, it was only fear.

"You're not going down," I said now envisioning myself at the top. Something in me solidified, and I became determined. Years of fear controlling, twisting and manipulating me, came rushing forward their spears held forth for one more drive, one last push. I fought back with all had left and drove them into the small dark confines of my mind for another day.

"You’re mine," I thought as I anxiously chuckled at the bellowing wind.

I moved now with confidence, swiftly catching John in a mere few seconds. I found him stuck, however, paralyzed with fear, his arms wrapped around the rungs. He clung for his life, as he said in a blurt of terror, "I can't do it, Brian, I can't."

I looked at his legs shaking. Only a few moments ago I'd been there. I felt it sweep over me again as I watched his legs buckling on the rung above me. I instinctively laughed aloud, for it was all I could do to keep the fear down.

"It's not bloody funny," John cried out in shrilled panic.

"I'm not laughing at you, I was in the same spot a few moments ago. C'mon, John, fight it. You can do it, I know you can," I said.

"Let me go back down, please."

"Please, Brian," he begged.

"You can't John," I returned with a strong determined tone, "You're not going down. You've come so far already. You must continue on, c'mon face it John, face the fear. We're doing it together...c'mon, one step at a time, one rung at a time."

Silently, he continued. It was getting easier for me.

About two-thirds of the way up, John asked, "Do you think it will be just as hard to go back down?"

He was desperate for any excuse to go back down.

"No, I think we'll have conquered our fear at that point," I replied seeing through his tactic.

"Yeah...I guess," he said unconvinced and almost frustrated at my persistence.

After a few more rungs, John cried out, "Oh, God; oh God; I can't do this, I really can't," and it started all over again.

"Take a deep breath. Okay, now a few more steps and you'll be able to actually see the top; you can't go back down now. We're so damn close," I said without a clue as to how close we truly were.

"Brian, I can't. Oh God, how I wish I never attempted this! Stupid, stupid, stupid," he cried out shaken with pure fear, pure panic. He was lost.

"I’m going down, I have to, Brian just let me pass to go back down!"

Now, I had a choice, and I really didn’t know what to do. My mind raced with his fear, how far do you push someone gripped with pure terror?

"John, calm down. Think about it. You can do it; really, you must fight it with all you have. It's only a fear; listen, don't look down, take each step with confidence. You know you're not going to fall, don't let fear win. Buckle up, John, let’s buckled it up, baby."

"I just don’t think I can take another step up…"

I felt like he needed that push, a last nudge, "John, you can’t get passed me to go back down. Just try and take one more step, just one," I said anxiously taking a stand against his fear.

He took a deep breath, and he continued on in silence, pushing beyond the initial step.

Fortunately, after another ten rungs or so, John screamed out with joyous relief, "I can see it, I can see the top. I'm going to make it!"

He pushed on hard now, feeling he was going to beat it. We both did.

We reached the wooden platform that is the top. I stood in absolute glory, towering above all other trees and I could see for miles in every direction. It was a fitting end to the struggle. John, however, was still shaken by fear and refused to even stand up on the platform.

Adrenaline was still riveting through my body high on the accomplishment and fear of going back down, and just as I was preparing for the descent, a small head popped up through the opening to the platform. Before me then stood atop this Land of Oz with us, a child of no more than 10 years of age. She had climbed up alone. She wandered around the platform seemingly without a hint of where she was, carefree and resolute.

I smiled to her, and chuckled to myself, "Wow, that really puts it in perspective!"

We eventually reached the bottom, where John immediately accosted me with a giant hug. His eyes were filled full of pride and accomplishment. He glowed. He jabbered incessantly, reliving virtually every moment of his heartache. It was indeed his moment, and strangely, I was happier for him than I was for myself.

"Thank you, Brian, I never could have done it without you," he said hugging me yet again.

"We did it together, we helped each other," I genuinely offered.

Bren stood next to me, her arms flung around my side as she leaned in and whispered, "I am proud of you, babe. I know how hard that must have been."

I just stood in front of them both, stunned, speechless, still jittering, as I listened to John recount each of our steps to glory. I thought about his "faith." I know after this experience, that it's more than just confidence in another, more than just hope. There's something more; there is indeed something here that defines faith. I can’t put a finger on it, but I know it's what pushed him back onto the rungs with me after his previous failure. And surely, it's what Mary felt years ago.

My adrenaline lasted for hours. On the drive south to Albany, I thought about climbing that tree, and the pause on the rungs about one-third of the way up. That was my struggle, my inner confrontation with fear. Fear certainly manifests in each of our lives in so many ways: in our relationships, employment, friends, and spiritually. It creates our phobias. I realized, at some earlier point in my life, that there is a strong carry-over between every component of our lives—they are interconnected and interdependent. That is, if I were to have shrunk in the face of the fear, which consumed me on the rungs of that tree, it would have naturally carried over into the other areas of my life. When I had a problem I feared in my relationship, a job, or spiritually, therefore, the failure of not confronting and struggling to overcome my fear on the tree undoubtedly would have had a negative impact on overcoming the fear in these other areas. Each small success in our lives, such as climbing the Pemberton Tree for me, serves as a building block adding to the quality of our character. Each failure, by contrast, is knocking one away. It is our choice. Destiny will bring each of us to these choices, but we must make that choice and when we do, it takes our character, the essence of who we are, in that direction.

From a physiological standpoint, I truly believe that our bodies store our actions as a "pattern" within the cells of our bodies, even beyond the consciousness of our mind, and further enhance our direction either way. These cells store our reactions to fear and doubt as well as our persistence and triumph, and imprint them into the cells of our being. Therefore, we make the "choice" consciously and our entire physical bodies (mind, body and spirit) help us to move along that path of conscious choice—to follow our "will" and meet our destiny. Ultimately, it doesn't mean that you can't change the direction or the path once taken, but it becomes more difficult with each step to move against this tidal flow within our beings. It builds, mind, body and spirit, in that direction. Each of us is, without doubt, a living, breathing, compilation of our decisions. We are our decisions. And our physical being, even down to the microscopic cells of our body, help reinforce this every day of our human existence.

So, in essence, fear and doubt become the corrosive toxins that flow through the veins of our being preventing, and certainly inhibiting, personal growth. They prevent us from reaching a higher state of "awareness." It becomes imperative therefore to recognize each opportunity for cleansing our being by confronting head-on fear and doubt. Each small slash at fear and doubt, chops a small piece of it away and not only cleanses the soul but frees it from its confining physical tethers. For me personally, although climbing the tree was certainly not a critical moment in the ultimate direction of my life, it was a small step and one where the intimidating confrontation of my fear was never so intense or tangible. The "struggle" brought me closer to who I really am, as I used my free "will" to constructively push myself passed the darkness of fear and into the hands of inner liberty. The trumpets sound within, my soul revels in this triumph for I have seized fear and doubt by the throat, another piece is now mine, and ironically, so now is another piece of my soul as I push forward into the light of consciousness.

As we passed these tall trees surrounding the single line of concrete that cuts through them, I thought that the Pemberton Tree represents the collective of humanity as well. Just as it’s inevitable in our individual lives that we will reach a point bound in fear and doubt, so it exists on a collective basis. We know that our climb upward will one day bring us to that rung on the ladder where we feel that we can go no further. Where our bodies tell us so distinctly to go back down, and our minds race with rationalized and justified means for returning to the safe confines of the ground. The wind will whip in frenzy and taunt us collectively. Yet if we know to grow, we must confront this fear and freely indulge the pain of grabbing that rung above us, then why do we so ignorantly allow technology and economic returns to permit us to climb an extra few rungs without the inner work?

Indeed, we feel that we are moving forward because of the physical movement upward, we’ve climbed up a few extra rungs than otherwise; however, we have failed as a society to do the work to strengthen our inner beings, for we have simply used technology and money to avoid the menacing "monster." One day, the monetary good-fortune will vanish and technology will naturally reach a point of diminishing return; that is, it will one day in the future fail to help hoist us to the next rung. We will always enhance our technology, but eventually it will reach a point where its impact on our culture will gradually decrease and the spread between life-altering inventions will increase dramatically. It certainly seems incomprehensible at this time of explosive innovation, but it’s the inevitable process of evolution of any machine or living being.

At that point, however, we will be higher up on the ladder than we should have been, and we will quickly realize that we didn’t get there because of our strength as human beings, but rather the strength of our ingenuity. What will happen when we sit collectively on the rungs, looking up with sheer panic at the height, and looking down knowing that we got to this point the easy way? That we had placed so much of our "faith" into technology and materialism when the situation called for us to peer inside for the strength to move upward? Sadly, only then, will we realize that our souls are vapid. What will happen as we stand on this rung paralyzed with fear, the deep fear that we aren’t who we thought we were, fear that what got us here will get us no further? Shaken with such deep and unchallenged fear, and without the personal growth as human beings to match the economic and technological windfalls we’ve taken, will we begin the descent toward what was comfortable, what was easy, what required little or no effort? And in this descent, will we then devolve as a species?

As I envision my America, I know that this day is forthcoming, and painfully so. In the near future when technology has reached its saturation point, the lack of spiritual insight and personal growth will catch up with us, it will snap us in two and leave us forlorn and utterly alone. It may not be in my lifetime or my child’s, but the dark knight rides, follows, and patiently waits for this day. It’s not a religious cry of doom, but simply the social breakdown of American culture, life as we experience it today. We have failed to extract any glimmer of understanding as to who we are, and where it is we desire to go. As a result, those will inevitably be dark years in the history of humanity, years of disillusionment, strife, tension, and bitterness.

The problem during those years beyond our spiritual and psychological inadequacies, beyond the failure to confront our fears, will be even more pragmatic. We will have no place to go, there is little open land left on the planet, no frontier to conquer, and food supplies cannot, even with technological innovation, keep up with the disparate rise in population. Even more, we have created environmental catastrophes, which lay in wait for the "rubber band" to snap and unleash its unruly devastation. Even further, we have no world leadership, no global communion to fight back the erratic, hostile individuals, who will have access to both the technology and the resources to unleash their vision of destruction. In short, we pillage our resources, we rape our land, and we lack the leadership to curb, let alone stop, the potential threats to our species and the precious place we inhabit. And now, we have sold out our "faith," our belief in something stronger than our individual selves, we’ve prostituted the "faith" in the collective of humanity for our own short-sighted, selfish end. There will be nothing to rescue us, to snatch us up from the gloom of these more pragmatic global problems, or to resurrect our spiritual death. We have taken the "golden ring" of our humanity and melted it down for more materialistic uses. Most disturbingly, we as human beings have shown a propensity, historically, during these chaotic times not to look inward for strength, but rather to strike outward. That is, to take it out on each other. It happens on a smaller scale every day in American society, only technology and money now provide the space to conveniently extricate us instead of rabidly attacking one another. So, have we done nothing but create an even weightier pendulum to swing back our way, and take with it the entire breadth of human existence?

One of the most disquieting aspects of this vision is what we have explicitly taught the next generation. Instead of planting the seeds for that fated day of confrontation with our collective fears, to provide them with the "tools" to defeat this looming force, we have simply taught them to take the easiest path to achieve their own personal selfish glory. Scores of examples abound that if these destructive elements at work in the world make a simple buck, or if it contributes to maintaining our depot of wealth, it is actually justified. We are unequivocally teaching our children to take, take for the near-sighted gain; and with such a myopic view, we stroke their little heads, look up to the heavens with a sneer and actually pat ourselves on the back for this resounding accomplishment.

In America, we deliriously paint a grand vision of "success" and the "American Dream," without the foggiest notion of where these frail "ideals" will take us as human beings. In fact, in many respects they undermine the pursuit of discovering who we are, the essence of our being, and our purpose. Our most prominent and decorated goals in society maim and distort who it is we are as human beings, and it prevents in a land of the free, an emancipation from the physical ties of this world. It forces each of us, on a basic level, to live within the darkness of our primal bestiality. That is, to live our lives in "programmed" ignorance. Is to be American, to be forced to walk mindlessly these blackened corridors leading down, down to the depths of our core animal instincts and genetic impulses?

Is this life the way we actually desire it to be?

More specifically, we teach our children, the children whose children will have to deal with these potential dark years, simple rote memorization skills, that book learning and standardized testing is the path to getting ahead, and even worse, we teach them to think on a singular, one-dimensional level. More broadly, we teach these children to be selfish, compassionless, irresponsible, and to respect violence and corruption. We teach them to discriminate, to hate, to find glory in the result instead of the means. We teach them to take advantage of the weak, to promote themselves at the expense of the good-hearted, and to thoughtlessly trample the rights and beliefs of others who are different. We hypocritically exclaim with a God-like voice to embrace difference and uniqueness, but we teach them to be the same, to be critical of, and even ostracize those who do take step outside the precious borders of conformity.

We teach them that murder is not murder, that lying is often better than the truth, that laws, morals and ethics, are just unattainable goals, not the realistic parameters to guide our lives by. We teach them to take the easiest route, to be innovative in finding ways around being morally and ethically responsible. We teach them to have dreams, but fail to educate them on how to achieve a "balance" in attaining them, we tell them to have faith, then undermine it with our primitive, ignorant actions. We lecture them on the value of human life, and then fail to spend time or give them the love they need to understand it. We whisper in their ears that they can do anything, and then we build a society that does everything to label, segregate, and restrict their path. We tell stories of our bravery, our honor, America’s beginnings, and then we cower in the dark corner and bury our heads in the sand from the reality that engulfs us. We show them the challenges before us all, then we teach them how to use technology and money to skirt the crucial issues necessary to confront these challenges, we teach them to be clever cowards. And even worse, we teach them to avoid the "struggle," a place where the essence of being human lay in wait—we teach them not to revel in the human experience. We teach them, we teach our children that what is on the outside means so much more than the inside.

For each in this generation, we have brought children into this world and failed to accept the responsibility for that gift, because of our own selfish indifference, and even worse, in our irresolute capriciousness we have sold their souls. We teach them that life is nothing more than avariciously snatching anything to promote one’s self, that our individual existence is more important than the whole of humanity or the future of mankind, that their significance in being human is derived purely from materialistic pursuits. We tell them to embrace humanity, to frolic in the gift of life, then we abandon them almost from the womb, and we rationalize away their needs, as well as their cry for love and devotion. We teach them to live in the bliss of ignorance.

This lifestyle or philosophical way of life, rings achingly hollow. Yet, we teach them to live in dauntless denial, and for now, technology facilitates this grand escape, and money masks our ignorance. However, we have yet to reap what is being sown. But make no mistake, we have indeed planted the seeds in the next generation for failure, for a crumbling sense of being, of place and society, if not for their living years, then for their children’s. We have briskly shoved them up the Pemberton Tree with unbridled pretension, without truly teaching them how to climb on their own, and one day they surely will be struck with fear, paralyzed on the rungs—afraid to move, and the fear will mercilessly seize their precious souls and crush them. And during, quite possibly, the darkest of years of our existence, we will have already planted the seeds for failure, and our legacy will then be sown. The fear will have won. Does it sit well with us as a society, that we have thrown the next generations into a soupy whirlpool violently moiling with failure? Are we that self-absorbed, that caught up in our possessions, our technology and dollars, that we fail to see such a glaring and palpable crumbling future?

Are we these headless riders of a futureless Way?

Do we not see passed our own hands and feet, do we not see the path that seems to be unfolding before us, and just because it’s flat and unwinding now, that it leads up and into the rough mountains, twisting its way up further into the darkness of the unknown. Why do we look to the future with such awe-inspiring vision and then do so little to ensure its viability? It boggles the reasonable mind why we not only do so little, but that we actively endanger our progeny and their lives. Indeed, it’s almost beyond comprehension for us to think about humanity in100 years, in 1000 years, and planting the seeds now for those days. Are we just that primitive, that narcissistic, filled with such utter conceit, that we fail to see any further than our present hour or our present day? Sadly, the evidence patently suggests that we are indeed just that, and we cannot.

Again, I’m painfully reminded of the perfection within Nature, its cycles, its revolving door of selflessness played over and over. And again, I see our stark contrast within this realm, and I am reminded of our playful indifference that promotes our profound ignorance. However, let us not play the endearing fool for eternity, the primitive beast that beats upon his chest; let us not fall deep with the chasm of folly believing that the future is technology, possessions, and money. For just as on an individual level our reactions to fear and doubt are stored on a cell-level, so they are collectively. Hence, our thoughts contribute to our evolution. Is it not troublesome, if not downright tormenting, to think that our focus today on technology, money and possessions, those things that so easily give us "false hope," will be incorporated into our being. Those things that permit us to take the easy road in our existence will be imprinted on our cells, and we will naturally evolve into a weaker, fear-based, creature in the future. That is, how we live today is a window into who we will become in the future. It is the inherent beauty of "free will," the fabric that weaves the delicate tapestry of our future as human beings. Yes, that not only are we ignorant presently, but that in this state of ignorance, we will have planted the seeds for humanity to lose that special ingredient within its composition, the will to conquer those corrosive toxins and embrace our strength to change.

Individually and collectively, the Pemberton Tree is our future. This singular extension of nature—with its branches reaching for the sky, its green offspring, its strong roots, the metal rungs flowing around its girth, and its selfless cycle of change—is the natural illustration of our future. We must realize that inevitably one day we will reach a rung where everything tangible around us tells us that we can go no further and to return to what is comfortable, easy. It's inevitable, and in that precious moment, this confrontation, the essence of being human, and its future, will be played out within this striking drama. That is, to grow and evolve beyond our primitive, physical existence we must accept this challenge, confront the pervasive fear, and embrace the pain of reaching for the next rung. It is the truest sense of humanity, the purest test of progress. Until we actively acknowledge this day in our future and accept the daunting challenge, we will continue to evolve only as animals do, solely based on the dictates of circumstance and environment. We must boldly take note that we, for the first time in the history of humanity, can direct our evolution. "Free will" has brought us to this day, and yet ironically, so can it take away. The destiny of humanity brings us to this point, this crossroad of choice. So, the future of humanity and its direction are hinged upon the fragile preparation for that day of reckoning, this moment of confrontation, this moment where everything of our past, everything thing we have evolved to be, all must rise in concert and swell beyond the fear. It can become the day we take hold of that next rung and our evolution. We do it, however, not because of technology, but because of who we are and what we’ve become. That is a glowing future, a future for us all, one imprinted on our souls, now and forever more. That is a future, one where we can rest comfortably in the thought that our evolution is moving forward, toward our ideals, and toward what may be a truly majestic existence. Therein, lay true hope, not the tenants of expectation in what may one day be, but actual hope that we are fulfilling the awesome potential of being human, and contributing positively to the evolution of our beings. Indeed, within this "hope" rests the future for us all and this planet.

In a flash, I was reminded of that little girl who plunged forth to the platform along side me, having reached the top alone and without even a hint of fear. I stood on the top with her, still trembling and hesitant with fear, and I watched her flow uninhibited from edge to edge towering unafraid above the world. I knew in that moment that she was our hope, she was the beacon of light for what may indeed lay ahead in the future of humanity, fearless, poised, and confident. The future and past stood upon that platform, together looking out over the destiny of trees, but hopefully it was the little girl that was the future and not the past. For it can only be so, if we let them, only if we teach them how to climb on their own, how to confront the struggle, how to challenge the inevitable fear. I knew that it rested plainly within our grip, this future, the plight of the next generations of the world sit conspicuously within today’s greedy palms. The choice is ours, and the future is ours to bear, forever.

It is but our destiny.
 

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

The following morning, at a B&B in the town of Albany, the owner indicated that he had heard that the Southern Right whales had been spotted just off the coast.

"However, I must tell you that this place is about 300 kilometers further east along the coast, and the last part is extremely rugged," the owner staunchly informed us.

Ever since our experience in Kaikoura with the Sperm whales, we've been searching for more, in fact, seeking the whales out. It's become our mission. We both feel its tantalizing call, beseeching us to undertake the search.

"That’s not a problem—"

"You’re actually goin’ up there?" he asked in disbelief.

Bren and I gazed at one another with smiles and upon observing our gleeful dispositions with the news of the whales he continued, "But you can barely see them! Is it that bloody important to ya?"

Without the slightest hesitation and a quick nod to the owner, we blew off our plans for the day and immediately left without any more information than this lone rumor.

It became, so it was, our quest.

Most of Australia is open and barren with a landmass the size of the continental United States, but inhabited by a mere 17 million people (compared with 267 million in America). In Western Australia there are even fewer, and it has a distinct feel of desolation. We cruised along the two-lane blacktop up the coast for well over two hours before reaching the first sign of humanity since leaving Albany. In the tiny town, we bought a couple sandwiches and inquired into the latest whale sightings. We were sent from place to place, eventually speaking to nearly everyone in the small town, but our persistence paid off as we finally received directions to a spot where they could be.

Most displayed incredulous looks of disbelief and a lack of understanding for our pursuit, "They’re only whales," one gentleman even offered.

"Yes, we know," I returned pleasantly.

"You can’t even see them, ya know," he said firmly.

"We know," Bren replied with a gentle, unassuming smile, and off we continued in pursuit.

We had yet 80 kilometers of unpaved, dirt, rough road to Port Anne—our destination. It was a part of Australia not in any guidebook, barely showing up on a detailed map, it was isolated seclusion on this heavily populated globe of ours. We didn't know it, but that was our true pursuit—letting our spirits fly, to go free unshackled by nothing but our will. The whales represented this for us, the essence of the trip—to discover, to explore, to touch the barest notion of freedom.

It is one thing to dream of freedom, to value freedom, and to even worship freedom, but it is much like the diamond freshly removed from its mountainous deposit for the sparkle, the colorful prism of beauty has yet to be uncovered. To feel freedom, to live freedom, is to remove the hardened soil from the diamond. Is it in American society, in a place that values freedom so, that we know little if nothing of feeling free or living free; yes, that we never see the radiance of the gem beneath? Does it threaten us to remove the rose-shaded spectacles to see that we aren’t free at all—that we are mere apparitions of freedom? That our lifestyle actually shackles us, and worse, we want it that way for it gives us the perception that we are in "control." American society is built around "control" and to be in control is then flippantly equated with freedom. However, is this the converse of living free, is our restricted way of life—one that pounds unmercifully upon our thick brains to dictate our environment, to control every external element around us—actually the chain that shackles our spirit? But what is it to be free, to live free? Is to be free to release control of the outer environment? Is to be free to understand the inner spirit and its place within this external world?

In this hot, hazy dream of reality we drove along the dusty road, and I began to sense this side of freedom—it came however not from a piece of paper or a law, but from this earth. The lone bright red dirt road literally cut through the dense rough shrubbery of the desert, with the sharp, distinct mountains of green towering all around us. The serpentine thin red line and the bright blue dome above were the only places the eye could see not deep green. Despite the dominance of these colors, they were but a rainbow prism of dazzling shades and hues supplied by the fire in the sky. This orphic vision caught me, shook the programmed cobwebs from my lethargic spirit and sparked the soul from its tethers.

"Seek. Release. Cry freedom cry." I heard from the darkness within.

This indestructible energy was inescapable and the fingers of this glorious red path led us into the palm of unburdened impulse and emotion. We were alone. We were the lone signs of humanity. The trumpets of liberty blared, the heavens rumbled as this magnetic earth pulled us into its embrace. I felt a convergence of these transient elements, and a point of light grew with each step along this isolated artery of earth’s spirit. Yes, there was something deep within earth; its core was humming a soothing lyric of its composition and selfless cycles. And for the first time, I knew that this giant rock floating in space was a being with a soul. Yes, release and croon from your naked core; cry freedom cry.

We struck out along faster along this transcendent path that snapped us from our prosaic slumber, bouncing over the rocky, rugged dirt road, kicking up immense clouds of red dust. The music cried forth, and hand of freedom seemed to open as we soared faster to the center. The turbulence of this wormhole grew with acceleration, and each bump sent us hurling, our heads crashing off the ceiling, the maps, our lunch and cassette tapes flying through the air, only the steering wheel held me in place. We laughed together, we sang out loud, faster and faster we went, glowing smiles sprung from our faces, our minds mesmerized by the liberation. Released, our inner voices rang out, cry freedom cry. We glanced to one other, smiling, laughing, singing; boom, another bounce, off the ceiling we flew together. We opened all the windows, faster and faster we went, as red dust sprayed throughout the interior of the car, we put our arms out the window, boom, another bounce, and we sprung high and hard again, our spirits soared as cries of our freedom rang out. And as the coastline began to appear on the horizon, I knew that I held the sparkle of the diamond in my hand for we were finally free.

I screamed with every molecule of air with my lungs, I cried, and as the tears streaked my reddened face, my shrieking voice seemed to echo through this secluded place.

"Now...Bri," Bren yelled back as we bounced once more, "This is LIVING LIFE!"

I inhaled deeply the air, the dust, this earth, and I shouted, "Yes!" as my head smacked off the ceiling yet again.

We came to a screeching halt at the sandy doorway to the purifying waters of this world. We hopped from the car and simultaneously peered back into the interior and roared with laughter. The seats, our lunch, clothes, and bags were laced thick with red dirt. Unfazed, I grabbed Bren’s hand and we ran toward the desolate white beach of Port Anne, carefree, consumed with the wonders of simply being "alive." We roamed the beach hand in hand with the cool sand nestling between our naked toes and the salty air intoxicating our virgin lungs. Although reluctant, we rushed out to the white-cresting waves to wash this ruby dust from our bodies and shake away the soiled ghosts of our past. The salty water massaged our bare flesh, our dreams dancing; it cured our wooly woes and awakened the simple wisdom within this peerless paradise. As I looked back to the asylum, I knew that our lives had subtly changed forever for once liberated you’d fight with everything you had to never be shackled again. We had discovered the harmony of life uninhibited, the sweeping sands of time now had no place, and our spirits embraced the sweet taste of life beyond its physical constraints. The whisky wind whipped along the shore, the sand spiraled upward to the heavens, but we were protected within the divine embryonic waters. Released from the steely bars, we sucked the blood from liberty and basked in its inner sanctuary; here, in this spiral of gold and beneath the arc of blue, I laughed at the mockery of this world of words.

We waited patiently upon this quiet earth watching for the whales, but they never did appear. In some way, we always knew they wouldn't. As we left and began our jaunt back to the main highway, the sun began to set. The orange globe hung just above this desolate stretch of Outback desert. We stopped, climbed atop of the sullied car hood and with our backs against the windshield, we watched the sun descend into the green mountains beyond. As the twilight beams crawled through the reddening sky, I felt those tantalizing rays as earth’s joyful tears. Almost immediately, the blackness surrounded us and a chill rippled through the air as the night sounds of the Outback sprung forth. I realized at that moment, you can watch it, you can listen to it, but the transformation of the Outback into darkness is truly only something that can be felt. It’s an eerily calming experience, one that penetrates into the deep marrow of your bones. And as this spiraling blackness took hold, I felt those whales; I felt the intense emancipation from the physical. It spoke, She whispered in my perched ear, that without Mass, energy is infinite. I understood that our burdens increase our mass and reduce our energy; they confine our soul keeping us ignorant prisoners in our own body—for we are a captive to Mass. Therefore, the same energy that is confined by Mass becomes freedom, for freedom becomes energy unleashed. With this limitless energy, this freedom, faster than the speed of light our souls are then capable of soaring upward to the stars ricocheting to the edges of this vast universe. I knew then, that we are not only part of humanity, but indeed, part of this land, part of this spinning vortex of darkness, part of this world, and the universe is ours through and through.

Yes, within the search is freedom, and this place, this ever-expanding cosmos, is ours to discover.

We drove the two hours further back to Albany in the dark of the night. I thought about driving over 600 kilometers on a whimsical impulse to see whales. Whales, in fact, only rumored to be. I realized, however, what this day was about, our quest, and I knew that we had indeed fulfilled our search.

We had found our whales.
 

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

Albany is the oldest settlement in Western Australia. It’s a quaint and serene harbor town with historically preserved buildings lining its colonial streets. The city is built on a hill that runs steeply down to a picturesque harbor, providing a breathtaking view of the Albany and its surroundings. Albany is a place that summons, to merge with its communal spirit, breathe its clean air and become friends with strangers. We drove around the harbor and to the peninsula just south of Albany, which offers a spectacular stretch of coastline with incredible rock formations and blowholes. The rocky shore seemed to cut the waters of the sea rather than the opposite for they seemed so dramatically indestructible. We stood together next to a cavernous rock gorge where the splash from the crashing waves would eclipse the top hundreds of feet above. Just as the natural beauty inspired me so much like New Zealand, someone yelled from behind us, "Hey, hey, Stars and Stripes…have you seen any dolphins recently?"

We turned to find our British friends, Jay and Lisa, from the dolphin swimming in Kaikoura, New Zealand.

"Oh my! Is that really you guys?" Bren jubilantly exclaimed.

"I can't believe this!" Jay cried out and we all excitedly echoed his sentiment.

Here we all arbitrarily stood nearly 4,000 miles away from our last time together, not only in a remote part of Australia, but a remote part of the small town of Albany. We hung out together on the rocks, telling stories, and explaining how each of us had arrived miraculously at this spot at this particular time. We were to meet again in New Zealand, but never did; what was once to be now was. I stirred by the spirit of this "coincidence," and as I gazed upon each of their faces, it struck me profoundly—this odd twist in the path of life. It was another bizarre waterfall upon this raging river, winding ever to the sea.

I basked in the salty spray that danced through the air from crashing against the rocks of the gorge. I saw the prism of dancing colors from the sun’s rays piercing the water droplets, and I felt the magic of this moment ripple up my bony spine. I glanced back at this waterfall that had arbitrarily flung me into the paths of these two people. Like destiny and the Red Rock, it wasn’t a moment my mind, logical or otherwise, could grapple; no, it was something that was felt subtly. As I listened to their voices dancing upon this silky strand of time, I questioned the existence of pure coincidence. What is coincidence? Do we meet very few people by chance—even on a global scale? Are some of our "tracks" in life inescapably intertwined; are our rivers to the sea inexorably streaming to another’s river? It certainly seemed so; yes, that we were drawn by some unseen energy that controls this place, this earth, even this universe, and we were bound to run into Jay and Lisa once again and continue, even foster, this magical spiritual connection. I was burning within this transcendent moment, as flames ignited upon my world yet again, for something here was beyond the physical, beyond our emotions and thoughts, something far beyond our control. I felt the child emerge, innocent, mired in madness by this suffocating air and the weight of this blackened albatross slung upon my shoulders. Its pupils dilate to see this mystical interlocking matrix, and I realized with scintillating poignancy that the pattern of life holds very few true coincidences. I don’t know how it works, but I feel its pulse beating within this child, within me. Indeed, that our spirits were drawn together by some giant magnet of our souls, and somehow, it was always fated to be.

Does the river ever flow to the sea, connecting, reconnecting, through twisting tributaries and copious curves, drawn by the source to its grand resting place?

With adrenaline still freely flowing from the spiritual reconnection with Jay and Lisa, we headed north for Hyden, home of Wave Rock. We agreed to rendezvous in Perth in two days. We drove over the dirt roads through the Stirling Mountains, and continued on the rest of the afternoon where we arrived in the small town of Hyden in the darkness of the night. We immediately made our way out to the park to catch a glimpse of this mammoth landmark. It's a natural rock formation in the form of a cresting wave, rising over fifty feet and is as long as a football field. Unfortunately, the rock was hidden behind an enclosed park area, turnstiles, and fence. Undeterred, however, we hurdled the small gate and wormed our way cautiously through the black of night to the base of this Australian rock. Its immense shadow hung over us—ominous, imposing within this sightless world.

Beneath a crystal moon, we climbed around the side of the rock to its flat top and lay down upon its hot, smooth surface and gazed upward to the planetarium of stars. I gazed upon Orion, his sword unsheathed prepared for battle, as my back nestled into the soft pillow of rock, sucked in by the earth. The night sounds seemed to become magnified, and in this menacing, almost haunting moment, I dreamt of two men side by side, one dressed in white—Gabriel, and the other in black—Grim Reaper, and they stared discernibly in my direction. As our eyes locked, they turned away from each other, back to back, and each then simultaneously stepped backward. With that step they merged together creating an explosion of light, which was in that same flash sucked into a massive seashell.

I opened my eyes to dots of light glistening through the black sky and I felt the heat of the earth within my body. I couldn’t move, paralyzed, as everything awoke, crying out from its cave of sleep, the life was all around us in this the real Land of Oz. It was within this hyper charged world that I discerned another connection with this planet—one I’ve grown so close to here in Oz, and I understand now just how closely we are connected. The earth, the cosmos, our souls, our paths, and even our destinies all sing a melodic tune of interconnectedness. We inhale the same air; it’s all one, a place of wonder, this place, this realm, this magical existence. As I begin my exit from the blissful larva, I now feel a piece of it, a part of it, the richness of this universe, and I was for a scant split second upon that rock under the blanket of stars, one with it all.

From one surreal second to the next mired hopelessly in the practical, we drove back to town and called every place to stay for the night in our guidebook with no luck. When it was just looking like we'd be sleeping in the car again, a stranger at the only gas station in town gave us the phone number of a woman who possibly could help. We called and she told us to come over...she and her husband ran a farm where she used to have a pseudo B&B. So, she took pity on us and helped out two bedless, exhausted travelers. They were a sweet older couple with all their kids grown having gone their own ways. We chatted for a couple hours over tea; they were fascinated by our travels as they really had never left Hyden. Truthfully, it was a scary thought being the town was so small. In fact, when Bren asked her if they'd ever been to the Pinnacles Desert, a four hour drive away she said, "No, I wish would have, but I'm sure we'll get there someday."

We all knew that she’d never see this grand spectacle, even though it was a mere four-hour drive. It was another surreal moment, one where everything around me suddenly moved in slow motion as her words hung in the air, and a collapsing dream merges into a translucent reality for I felt so full of life. These transcendent moments were suddenly coming closer together, Ayers Rock, the Pemberton Tree, Jay and Lisa, the Wave Rock and now this warm old lady; they were whispering something inaudible into my ears, I listened, but I could so deeply "feel" the call of its message.

I kicked back in the sofa and thought about her stating it so casually, the words effortlessly flowing from her lips, and it gave me an overwhelming feeling that this journey was on some level, "right." I was sailing the river anew, freely released from the resolute grip of the royal paws, and I knew that selling off our possessions, giving up the track in my career, absorbing the risks of this trip, were all not so crazy after all. For the first time, I thought about all the people I knew at home, the ants marking time, the bees buzzing around manufacturing honey, all for an elusive dream. Their spirits consumed with delirious thoughts of being rich, desperately groping for the golden goblet, their heads filled with the next ugly task of selling their soul to get there, and their hearts poisoned by yet another deceitful, compassionless gesture. The land I once so freely roamed, the acts I liberally indulged, and the pain that so easily consumed me. It was all clear now. The cuckoo clock struck just above me, and I chuckled softly in the irony. For I knew that as I sat on that old couch in her living room, listening but hearing nothing, my body floating, numb, just how easy it would to be sitting in that chair at 65 saying, "I wish I would have..."
 

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

After a day enduring the long trek across the southwestern desert to the West Coast, we camped out and waited for Aurora at the Pinnacles Desert. With the sun breaking on the horizon we stood alone among the roaming expanse of this magnificent golden desert. This swirling wonderland of sand is relatively flat, with light brown sand and distinctly punctured by thousands of 30,000 year-old thick limestone pillars. Some are as tall as 15 feet, and due to erosion, the ancient pillars have formed into extremely peculiar shapes. In fact, as it’s a short distance from the coast, it was said that sailors passing along the coast believed the pinnacles to be remnants of an ancient city. It’s a unique natural creation, another reminder of the weird and wonderful, awe-inspiring, world we inhabit.

We then drove the four hours south back into Perth, our starting point for Western Australia. We explored this new modern city, beginning in King's Park, situated on a mountain it contains the city's Botanical Gardens and offers stunning views of the city landscape snuggled in next to the Swan River. Although not nearly as appealing, it was reminiscent of our hometown of Pittsburgh. Without a doubt, the three main Australian cities of Sydney, Melbourne and Perth all offer beautifully modern cities with spectacular views.

As the late afternoon approached, we had yet to mail home any of our disposable belongings, the used film, and most importantly, my journal with the trip notes nearly filling its 300 single-spaced pages. The closer I got to its end, the more anxious I became, knowing the gravity of its importance. As we walked only a few hundred yards for the GPO (General Post Office) from our hostel, I heard a desperate cry for help. I looked quickly across the street where a woman was screaming, "He stole my purse, help, help! He stole my purse." At first I didn't understand her, but then I saw down the street a guy running with something in his hand. I immediately began taking the rucksack off my back and Bren said, "You’re going after him, aren’t you?"

"Yep..." I replied tossing the bag to her as I began to charge down the hill.

I ran as fast as I could down the street where he had already turned the corner. I had the advantage in that he didn't realize someone was chasing him. As I got to the corner he was nearly turning the next corner of the short street. I picked up the pace again pushing hard to close within 30 feet when he twisted around and saw me behind. He immediately began running faster as I called out, "Drop the bag, drop the bag asshole!"

It was just a young kid, 17 or so. He turned and looked at me and without a word kept running. He was zigzagging through the neighborhood. He climbed a wall and down into an alley, I climbed the wall and followed him into the alley where he busted through a gate. I still followed. My breathing was becoming increasing labored, and I was desperately fighting for air. But with the theme music from "Miami Vice" blaring in my head, I was inspired onward. He ran down between two houses through the backyard, around the bend of the street; I began to think that this was more like "Cops" and that this was ridiculous, even bordering on insane. Yet I was pushed onward in pursuit. He ran up a short driveway and opened a garage, and attempted to shut it on me; I then began to ask myself, "What the hell I was doing chasing this punk through a someone's garage."

The back of the garage was open (no interior wall) so he was through the garage and into the backyard as I was just cautiously opening the door. I followed him through the backyard and back onto the street. I was exhausted and lethargic, but I couldn't stop—not now. He turned the corner and was going through the front door of the first house on that street when I finally made the bend. I stopped. Bent over, my hands on my knees, struggling to catch my breath, I looked up and decided "This is where it ends!"

I was just thinking it was his house, when I spotted him in the backyard of the house climbing the wooden fence. I ran around the corner where there was a mechanic's garage, but by the time I ran all the way around the corner, he had disappeared into the confusion of Chinatown. I walked intently through the area but there was no sign of him and I returned to the mechanic's garage still winded, where I ran into Bren and the lady who had her purse taken.

As we stopped in a downtown mall for dinner, I was still fully gripped by the incident. We both were. As we sat in silence eating Chinese noodles from a box, Bren said, "I’m sorry we didn’t get to mail your journal home, I can’t believe this whole thing. With the GPO closed tomorrow, ah, we’ll just have to mail it back from Indo. Don’t worry, don’t worry, babe."

"What d’ya plan on doing anyway if you caught him?" Bren casually continued.

"Hell if I know, but after spending every minute of the last two months with you, I know I could pummel just about anyone!"

"Oh yeah, real funny, but somehow, I just knew you were going after that guy, I just knew it!"

"That’s more than I did."

"I’m telling ya I knew it. I swear there’s something in the air, ‘cause I knew it instantly."

We drifted back into a somber silence, exhausted with the torrid pace of late, and the sheer oddity of the day’s events. I reflected on the reality of taking such a stupid risk. What did drive me to chase that thief down at my own peril, an act I'm not sure I would have even attempted back in the States. It wasn't my responsibility, or was it? I know I felt no obligation, no legal requirement, I wasn't even in my own country, but of course, I knew it was wrong. Something took me and whisked down that hill in pursuit, something deep inside. It was my instinct to help, but why did I act? Why did I seek to contribute, to give back at my own risk? I had taken action beyond my immediate responsibility; I acted as a citizen, a citizen of the world. Indeed, I felt that it was my responsibility. How far that responsibility extended I didn’t have a clue; I only knew that I felt an instinctive duty to chase that petty thief through the streets of Perth, and I felt it as a fellow human being. However, in the same breath, it seems utterly crazy now, that responsibility to help someone in distress in another country all at my own risk.

And almost as another overt sign, Bren then asked with the slurp of noodles into her mouth, "Did that lady ever thank you?"

I quickly glanced upward to the ceiling and uncontrollably smirked at yet another ironic moment as I said with a sigh, "Nope, she never did."
 

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

I sat unsteadily perched upon the windowsill entranced by the beauty of the illusion before me—the concrete and metal reaching into the strands of a cupreous sky. I peered into this world of Perth as the unshakeable roar of the city filled my ears, and these ambient sounds suddenly seemed oddly foreign. People wandered aimlessly, but with purpose, below me dragging their invisible chained trammels, and I gazed upward yet again to the florid sky. A thousand masks within this magical play softly faded and disappeared, as I seemed to shake the bedeviling cobwebs from my diminutive mind. A pithy sense of lucidity quickly enveloped my being and I felt within the conjoining quarks in my body a dreaded sense of fate for the world.

This was our final night in Oz, possibly forever, and yet beyond leaving Jay and Lisa, I feel ready to leave. Expectations didn’t synchronize with reality. The spirit of Australia was much like America's. At times, it felt twisted and tortured, unaccepting, a collectiveness blindly lost within itself; while at other times, it was discerning and genuine, and sprinkled with a whiff of virility. Australia saps your energy and emotion one moment and lifts you to the clouds the next, much in the same way as America. Either way, however, it’s a country struggling to find itself, struggling to grasp its seemingly insoluble pattern of life, and to keep their heads afloat in a soupy vortex that pulls each away from the luminous moon hovering above. Simply, Australia is a slice of bittersweet chocolate. Just like the Land of Stars and Stripes, the Land of Oz is an enigma waiting to be solved. It represents so much of what could be, so much of what is right, so much of what is pure. However, where both countries are filled with this enormous expectation it seems to have slipped into the slumber of deluded hope. For both, this confusing state of unfulfilled expectation has created societies where the reality of being human has become merely a series of decisions, convenience, and physical pleasure. Sadly, so many in both countries fail to see this at all.

Strikingly, both countries represent more than reality; they are places that the deeper you dig, the less you find. It’s an unexpected realization, one profoundly alarming, for they are two countries leading the world. The light fades from this side of the world and a blood red moon hangs ominously atop this stage. Within this desperate search for a piece of significance in the human existence, I wonder, truly, what is the significance of the United States or even Western Culture? Will America merely be remembered in the History books, say 100 years from now, as an economic empire built, even fashioned, simply to maintain their citizens’ mass wealth and to further technology in the name of convenience? Will America be remembered as an integral, even significant, piece to the evolution of humanity? As I look at the crooked path, I shudder to think not. For what America once represented, freedom and the heart to fight for liberty within its borders and out, has been tainted, forever tarnished. The passion for its most basic and cherished ideal has been buried with the corpses of men past. Indeed, in a land that worships freedom, it has become a country littered with fragile glass minds shackled by invisible chains, all lost within a festive ritual of desire. What America once represented may be remembered for nothing more than an unfulfilled ideal.

A short hour later, still feeling drained from the stark realization of our diseased culture, Jay and Lisa popped over to our room. The four of us sat together on a double bed, in a circle. Mired in adrenaline-induced desperation, since this would be our last night together, we talked right through dinner consumed within this euphoric buzz.

"Remember the dolphin swim?" Jay casually asked, and after a couple quick nods in affirmation, he continued, "Well, did you feel a spiritual connection with the dolphins, with the sea that day?"

We all reflected on his suggestion as Bren answered, "Sure, without a doubt."

"What’s interesting, is that just before Lisa and I left for this trip, one of my best friends was brutally murdered in her flat in London," Jay said with a melancholy rich tone.

"Oh my God, that’s horrible!" Bren blurted out as her hand naturally drifted toward her mouth in shock.

I sat too stunned to move or speak. Because of my relatively sheltered life, I couldn’t fathom the experience of a friend dying yet alone one being murdered.

"God, the pain still runs so bloody deep, it’s difficult to explain, even express, really…man o’ man, this is tough…" he said trailing off in disturbed thought.

"Yeah, tell them Jay, tell ‘em," Lisa enthusiastically nudged with a warm embrace.

"Well, my friend’s favorite animal, her favorite creature in the whole world was the dolphin," he said looking up with tears creasing the cusp of his eyes, "and on that day I felt her, she was amongst us in the water. Somehow, she was there, somehow we were together!"

And with that last statement his head fell downward, bent by the sheer pain of his loss.

I sat motionless, still; my heart ached with his pain, for it was so clear, so palpable. Tears began to swell in Bren’s eyes and the moment twisted in the anguish of another’s soul, another’s pain. This tornado of pain was searing, it was boundless chaotic energy raging through his veins, torturing his spirit and daunting his every thought. We all felt it penetrating within, resonating through our bodies, our thoughts, and emotions.

"It was beautiful," he then unexpectedly whispered looking up at the ceiling as a tear swelled and drifted down his cheek, "It was so beautiful swimming with those dolphins…with her."

We all sat quiet in our circle, and for all the heartache and pain, the tears, the emotion, surprisingly, it wasn’t uncomfortable. I too had felt this pervasive transcendence and I now felt those dolphins, their omnipresent grace circling me again. We all did. No one spoke, we all on some level lived it—we were there again, and we absorbed the feelings, the energy of each other. Our souls danced in harmony reliving this tragic moment in Jay’s life, it was a spark of magic, one so deep, so base, that it rocked the soul from its physical binds, and they freely floated together in sweet symmetry above our circle of bodies below.

Jay looked up with a distinct smile, "I know you two believe me…and I could never thank you," he said wiping the tears from his face.

"After our own experience, no doubt we do, and Jay thanks for something like this would never be necessary," Bren excitedly offered from the enlightening connection.

"Thanks anyway," he said as he reached out and we all clasped hands in the center, "Ya know, I wouldn’t have ever thought that it would be important for others to understand, to believe me when I say that she was there, but it is. Somehow, it transcends the pain, and I feel a part of something. I feel a deeper sense of myself, even though I don’t understand it. Know what I mean?"

"Yeah," I said with a bubbling smile, "I think I know, I think we all feel it…those dolphins…they are still with us, forever within us, aren’t they?"

He looked at me with a glow encircling his round face, and he cried out in a harmonic mixture of joy and pain, "And I know now, so will she! She still exists. Now she’s in her own place but she will forever be with me, always within me."

It was a moment that doesn’t elude memory, one that forever burns in the cross of the soul. A moment that would be relived a thousand times in memory and spirit, and it would bring me back time and time again to what in life is important, what should be cherished and held true. Only a few moments earlier I was being smothered by the ever-darkening reality of a society sprightly dancing their obsequies, and now I again found myself at the window gazing out above this forlorn world. Yet within the room, the energy had come full circle, and in a moment of unbearable pain and anguish, the human touch, understanding, and selflessly giving to another human being, all enabled this incredible energy to be reciprocated. It was a heightened awareness, a depth to the human spirit, something that elevated me beyond my "normal" consciousness.

"I love you guys, I really do," Jay finally said. Our bond established only days before had grown to a level not even quantifiable. His statement wasn’t some corny reminder of an expectation, it wasn’t some unfulfilled emotion, and it wasn’t a host of feelings conveniently wrapped together and simply referred to as "love." No, we were immersed in this glorious feeling, this resounding glow of the human spirit, and if I had show someone love for the first time, pure, innocent love, this would be the moment I would show them. Because somehow, I felt deeper, something tangible within, something that identified me beyond my skin or my physical touch. It conferred significance. It expanded my being and somehow clarified who I was—just as it had done for Jay. In a world filled with such overwhelming insignificance, I felt a brief sense of the opulence in my existence.

After an emotional farewell with Jay and Lisa, I stood at the window as the clouds began to drop water upon this land. A million strings seemed to loop around me, within me, strangling me yet leaving me with a deep sense of wonder and clarity; with it, this distant world from my window was now different, for I knew within this violent churning of consciousness that sides were being chosen. I watched the rain douse this concrete earth as the nature barked from the black sky, and I felt this line, this choice, within my soul. Yet it was openly vague, undiscerning, and I couldn’t understand the decision I was being offered, so I just stood servile to this confusion.

I crawled into bed and through the darkness within my mind I began to think about our fated meeting with Jay and Lisa, our parting, and our engrossing conversations. Instantly, it smacked me and rifled through my body like a bird’s melody through the open air, my eyes jolted open, and I knew that I had experienced the ideal. In New Zealand, I felt so distinctly that we as human beings had to establish the ideal of our existence based upon discovering our purpose; yes, what will create harmony amongst us while offering personal sense of significance. And here in Australia, on our final day, it found me. The hand reached out and with a single-cocked finger, magically flicked the tip of my ear. That conversation, that emotional and spiritual experience with Jay and Lisa transcended the boundaries of the physical. That moment was dripping with personal significance, for it was a state of higher awareness, one that naturally transcended the physical binds and freely expanded our consciousness. This simple expansion of our minds must be at least a small part of our purpose and therefore, it must become one of the ideals of our existence.

If we as a society, as humanity, can identify the true ideal of our existence, a truer sense of purpose, we can move forward in unison toward that ideal on a daily basis. Particularly in America, the only ideal or ideals that ring with any clarity, deal with money, possessions, technology and convenience—hence, the poisoned dream. That is, in seeking human significance, we attempt to make ourselves feel more than we are by surrounding ourselves with more of the insignificant. We actually feel as a society that the more you possess, the more significant you become, and even further we even create a social status ladder based on this garish theorem. I have held this arm of "success," I’ve enjoyed this conception of the American Dream, and I felt less, not more, significant. I felt less human. Simply, we have created a society filled with desperate ways to make us "feel" significant, so that we believe that we amount to something beyond our nothingness. But it is we, who create the nothingness from significance; it is we who burden our souls with the trivial, the physical, and the superficial. It is we who trample the inherent beauty in being human. Now, our lives are merely a composite of precisely that, the shallow appearance that we are something deeper than reality. We live behind a host of masks, cowering in the corner alone and afraid of the light that pervades the room; we live merely for the present moment terrified of never reaping the benefit of our investment. We suffocate our dreams, we ignorantly force the material into a spiritual world, and worse, we denigrate the purity that lay mystically within each of our breasts. We have become enslaved by the world we built, and our souls are now forever emblazoned with its burdens. We are beings bloated with Mass and therefore, our souls are listless and bound. Without establishing those ideals that exemplify what we as human beings would hope to be, we have muffled the call of our inner voices, and in a time of freedom and peace, we sit idle watching the chaos and tumult envelope us and torment our wilted spirits.

This cannot be, for all of posterity, our foremost and ultimate ideal in society, for humanity. Do we not seek to at least plant the seeds, those impassioned ideals, to be harvested for generations to come and for the betterment of all humanity? Do we not seek to actively establish these collective ideals that contribute positively to the evolution of our species? Do we not seek the essence of truth, the spiritual connection between us, and to discover the sanctity of faith? Do we not seek to evolve as humans beyond our physical presence? If as a society, you don’t have the time for what makes life special, purposeful, or significant, what do you have? If you don’t create the time to spend with those so loved, especially those personally brought into this world, what do you have? If you don’t seek those basic elements of our existence, and apply those mind-building ideals to raise the level of consciousness—to break free from our cottony larvae, what do you have? After this day, I know you have nothing.

It was the driving force behind this journey, it was the motivation to find something more, to find faith, to find purpose, and at least touch the golden hand of my significance as a human being. Yes I wondered, am I more than a creature that inhales the air merely because it’s instinctive, genetically programmed, or am I something more? If I am something more, then who am I not to undertake this provoking search?

As I lay in bed looking through the darkness blanketing the room, I smiled to myself for I knew I had lightly stroked my significance as a human being. That conversation, where we all selflessly gave our time, our emotion, our energy to another, created a moment similar to the one with Aponu, where somehow the energy came back in a totally different, unique form. I felt a part of something greater, an interconnectedness. I felt whole, a sense of significance far beyond any achievement or "success" in my life. I inhale this hyper-reality, this state of being where my spirit feels a deepening sense of self. My body elevates, mind feels alight, as the magma surges forth from an unknown place within me and I taste upon the rippling buds of my tongue the interdependence, the interconnectedness. The stark vision upon Wave Rock, the strange battle between Gabriel and the Grim Reaper, swallows me and explodes with a white light of meaning. The mystical interweaving matrix was clear. The heart of the significance in being human beat palpably within, for I had unassumingly tripped over this bared root along the path. The Red Rock stood once again before me, exposed and unseen, it spoke from this earth’s soul that every aspect within our individual life is connected—the struggle up the Pemberton Tree helps us to confront those corrosive toxins and purge them from our being. They all carry over—our failures, our successes, and build upon that which we choose to carry in our mind and apply in material form. Profoundly, we have the awesome potential to become what we think—physically, mentally and spiritually. Next, we are connected to each other, and no coincidences lurk within this realm. Those who bounce freely into our lives, do so with purpose and direction—exposed yet unseen. So, what we do is laced with consequence, and these acts pose a corresponding impact upon the collective. Finally, each of our lives, our beings, is connected with this earth through Nature—New Zealand, Port Anne and Wave Rock speak to our spirits a lyrical tune of our existence if we only choose to listen. They enlighten the path by forcing us to understand and bear our imperfections within with this natural world of perfection. But as beads upon this Mother of Pearl Necklace, what is it that holds together this matrix born into earth, this dimension, what is this wispy string that leads our rivers to the sea? What directs this symphony and what is the source of our calling?

I reflected to my earlier thought that we cannot uncover our true destiny in life until we first become selfless and give back. That is, the more we are narcissistic and ego driven, the less "aware" we will become, and naturally the more our being frolics in ignorance. That is, simply, in this materialistic, self-absorbed society we’ve created, we primarily live in a sad state of perpetual ignorance. We are lost within the smoky haze of our distorted dreams where we attempt to mindlessly control our physical surroundings—those things that cannot be controlled. In this state, sadly, you become less than you actually are because your life is reduced to a series of "reactions" to the environment. In this regard, we reduce our uniqueness as human beings to merely a primitive, animal-like state of being. Unfortunately, by living this way our established patterns of life will continue unfettered and we will do the same things, the same way, and most importantly, with the same results, for just because you removed the animal from the jungle doesn’t mean that they are any less an animal. We must understand that this destiny, both individually and collectively, can only be uncovered in at least a simple state of "awareness" which requires at the beginning a sense of selflessness—the desire to give back.

I couldn’t help but think that in discovering and feeling a sense of "significance" in the cosmos, together, as one, that destiny would then unfold naturally. That is, in feeling a part of something greater, you are able to "see," even feel, the once hidden tracks of your life. This must hold true not just on an individual basis, but also for a society, a culture, and quite possibly, all of humanity. So it is, so it will be, that within the sanctified folds of this selflessness, within this vortex of awareness, this oneness, the avenue that expands our basic consciousness, the human spirit lay waiting for the day when its true destiny may be uncovered. And I knew that it began with the ideal of what lay within each one of us, it lay within the glorious glow of the interconnectedness of the human spirit with all things, that it is all intertwined. For every action within this universe, there will be an equal and opposite reaction to that force. That what happens to earth impinges upon the human spirit, and the human spirits upon each other; that what we do to each other we do to ourselves, and this naturally creates a knife that deftly cuts through all living things. Likewise, when we selflessly reach out to touch, it will reach out and touch us back. This is the ideal, one that I now know will lead to a heightened state of "awareness," and as such, it becomes the beacon of hope for the future of humanity. Could this be the beginning, the flinted spark, the ignited genesis of a spiritual revolution?

Just as this thought floated through my mind, I heard a noise by our door. I quickly flipped on the light, noticing a white sheet of paper had been slipped underneath. It was from Jay and Lisa and it read:

We just wanted to thank you guys for such a great time together because we realize just how rare it is to meet people who really touch you. We know that our bond with you both is special, one that we'll always cherish. To us, that's what traveling is all about...that’s what life’s all about. We feel a part of your universe now, and hopefully you feel a part of ours. Fate brought us together, again, and we are now one.

 

"And we are now one," I thought as I finished reading the note. The Red Rock rising from the depths of this planet’s soul, a small sign of what lay beneath and stretching to the inner spirit. Indeed, we were one. I had kissed the precious newborn’s forehead and felt a tangible ripple of that inner spirit, for I had swallowed a sweet piece of the significance in being human. It stands open, alone, penetrating to unseen depths, this Red Rock, connecting, melodiously singing its call, as our collective destiny waits underneath. I felt its subtle touch of significance. I felt its purity, its grace, its soul, I was now distinctly aware of it, and I knew it deep within, this penetrating Truth that, yes, we are all One.

Copyright © 2000 PbFisher. All rights reserved.