Choosing Choice

Choice makes untenable situations, tenable choose choice.

Choice and having freedom of it also grants one omnipotence. It is
freedom of choice which is all powerful. Choice may create a world or
destroy it.

Those who write, tell stories learned this long ago. Myth was a means
to harness this power. In myths ideas are promoted in cleverly chosen
opinions, or what one believes.

Belief is nothing more than speculation regarding the unknown. Those who
can by means of choosing to create myths, also gain control by creation
of speculations regarding the unknown.

Myths serve to create worlds based upon opinions, which are perceptions,
speculations upon the unknown. These can then form as religions,
dogmatic beliefs regarding all the unknowns in our own individual world.

The hermetic understand well the axiom, “know thyself”. It is in
this knowing of themselves the hermetic come to know all humanity, and
its fears regarding unknowns. It is easily deduced from this vantage
point that humanity may be harnessed as energy via use of myths, or
stories promoting ideas, opinions about unknowns.

This is why humanity became obsessed with space exploration. Myths
guided humanity to explore beyond our world seeking out some celestial
entity greater than ourselves.

This entity was used also to enact a belief system of coincidence and
fatalism. How often heard is the expression, “leave it to God”,
or “it was God’s will”? Humanity by exploration has discovered no
celestial entity does exist, or at least not in the celestial sense.

This misdirection led humanity into creation of a world benefiting
exploration, innovation, the power to will. It is the power to will that
was harnessed to steer us to achieve further advances in technology
which leads in empowering us by removal of fears.

The phrase, “we came, we saw and we conquered” reveals much truth in
this regard. Humanity indeed was conquered and that was the objective
goal ultimately.

This is the parasite of greed. It thrives upon misdirection to attain
power. Greed then uses this power to subdue its host and suckle away the
host’s energy.

Greed is an idea, one that tells each of us the lie that we need more,
better, more. Avarice also lies to us by suggesting ideas cannot die.
Ideas can indeed die. Each of us must regain our own power. We each can
choose to starve greed out. It will be then when greed dies for each of
us respectively.

It is then greed will die in our world collectively. Exposure of an evil
kills the evil. Welcome to the daylight, greed. Hope enjoy basking in
the more of the light of love.


Something zanny this way reads …

Currently reading Terry Pratchett’s Equal Rites. My wife recently
brought in about a half dozen or so of his novels. I am happy to have
such great reading material. Yes, he has ‘Old Timer’s’ and is a bit
loony. He is also a brilliant and master storyteller. Caught myself
being sucker punched in the first pages of Equal rites.

Pratchett was describing a wizard, the wizard’s journey down a winding
mountain path. He then explained a goat looked up at the wizard,
interested. “It does not take much to interest goats.” The sucker punch?
Well, it does not take much to interest people, either. How’s that get
your goat? 🙂 😛 You get pulled right into the story without realizing

Pratchett like Sheldon for me, is one of the few ‘magicians’ who I can
still enjoy despite knowing how they weave the magic. As I read Sheldon,
I sense a secondary conversation ‘behind the scenes’ where he plays a
professor, illustrating to writers how to do things.

In Pratchett’s stories there is a similar conversation, yet the depths
of it go far beyond him being a professor. He creates a whole new way to
live, to think, to feel and yet lets you see exactly what he’s doing and
why. Sure it is hilarious fiction meant as entertainment. Does not mean
it cannot at least try to make things a little better. 🙂

The Glitter

“I remember lots of spiders”, he said. He took a seat by the campfire.
Camilla passed him a mug of warmed rum and bowl of hobo stew.
Her body seemed to draw tense and relax, shivering in repulsion of
spiders. “Well, we are safe here”, she told him. She sat opposite him
and busied herself with adjusting some camping gear in a pack.
“Sure, as long as we keep the fire burning. Ever seen how light attracts
them? They collude in their spider plots while light harbors them. If
light goes away, they aggressively seek out the nearest warm body”, he
said. The rum tasted acrid in his mouth. Looking into the bowl of stew,
he thought he saw wings of some kind.
An eerie calm overtook the camp. Noises became distant and then,
stopped. He looked up from his stew with only enough time to see her
wielding four extra arms, hearing her ask, “Oh, do we now my sweet
dinner?” In the still calm of a velveteen night, it may behoove one to
remember glittering lights often conceal spider plots.
~ Finis ~
This short story earned me a minor ego boost this morning. Check it out. 🙂

I write like
J. R. R. Tolkien

I Write Like. Analyze your writing!

The Scout Camp

Outside of a small town in Virginia, near the Shenandoah river, up
a hill lay a camp. This camp was used for a scouting group’s yearly
events. There sits on the Northern point of the camp an old wooden fire
These lockers housed tools for helping extinguish fires. Often, you
could find axes, pails, flame blankets in these lockers. This camp
having been long ago abandoned had none of these in its fire locker.
Nothing was in this locker. It got converted into a target bin for
slingshot, bow, steel shot air rifle. The target stood until once it got
pulverized with explosives on an arrow.
Aside from that day’s ear shattering explosion, the camp was a quiet
harbor in the woods. Deer would come to bed down here. A snake den lay
in the Eastern end of the camp.
The snake den was under a rock outcropping which cascaded over a drop of
twenty foot. A trail ran by the rock, leading down to a gully. The gully
was used more often than not as a bit of a natural hunting blind.
Game would cross below the gully. A trail ran below it about thirty
yards. This trail led down around the hill and crossed over to the
The gully is a sacred place from memory. A first kill taken here. The
lesson of life being sacred taught here, in the quiet rustle of dry
leaves as a deer bled out.
Nothing left to waste by a grandfather overseeing a grandson and a son.
An uncle explaining how broad-head arrows were supposed to function.
Gentle laughter from all three in realizing plans do not always carry
themselves out as planned.
Deer hide stretched between two long sticks forming a liter to haul
venison down the hill. After reaching home the hide was sent to a family
friend who crafted leather goods. The friend offered a few dollars for
the hide and grandfather set it aside to pay for fishing license.
Memory bringing smiles despite this past year sending a grandfather on
his way. The uncle, his son, took a view that grandfather had gone on
ahead to find us a good spot along the eternal river to fish. A grandson
finally understanding he knew his grandfather more than he thought.
In that scouting camp, many lessons were taught without being spoken. So it is a sanctuary. The scouting camp where a young boy exploded a fire locker, the scout camp where mortality left no doubts. Here in the camp sits the scout.  

Tidbits of Terror

Enjoy these micro-horor stories. The parameters were two sentences.

You inhale deeply. Your lungs burn as liquefied concrete fills them.

Gazing deep into the campfire, you notice some peculiar. It is a shame you did not notice before the garret slipping taut around your neck.

The subtle ticking followed you into the diner. Looking down to your left a clock reads 00.00.00.