-Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner

    Enlightenment “is the removal of a self-imposed nonage.”
                - Immanuel Kant

Somewhere on this phantasm many call earth rests a small grove. No one is quite sure where this median between heaven and earth resides, but some say if you travel up the Orinoco River a 21 days journey you will see a bend in the river and a stream of sunlight that flows through the dense rain forest and meets the Orinoco. It is here where the gentle arm of the sun stretches down and graces the earth with its touch. You must be careful for once you pass it on the 21st day there possibility of gaining entrance. Many have perished in there quest to find this place. If you do somehow chance upon a muse that would guide you, then God is with you in your quest and you are doing better than most. And if you have already stumbled upon this muse and he should agree to guide you, then perchance that golden ray will cover your feet, shine upon your brow, and before you realize you will have gained passage into this land of untold splendor. Some say the grass there is made of emeralds and yet remains soft as silk; others have said that there are flowers of sapphire, the purest of sorts, and these radiate with a fragrance that would cause any man’s nose to see visions. These are all precious to the people but not because of there monetary value; for what are mere worldly riches to a people like these? What they cherish is the fruit that is birthed on the trees of this land with whom they dwell. The people say that God Himself comes and plants the trees in the groves. His Spirit tends to the trees and the trees in turn tend to the people. O yes, I do say these people are a God fearing people, and it is with the emerald blades of grass and the sapphire blossoms that they cry out in a most outrageous praise to a Most High God. Their language sounds like an angelic tongue, others say it is like a gently babbling brook, but all agree however, that whosever ears hear it, it is like the sweetest honey. Their words are potent and hold the power to create and heal. These words delightfully haunt whoever hears them for the rest of there lives; they create a part of them that can not be changed back, and they are forever better for it. They are a most amazing race, they call them the children birthed in the sun but none are sure exactly what that means.

This is the land I was born into, the land called Nature’s Bounty. It was an early morning, the sun just returning to visit, when I opened my eyes and realized I was attached to an orange tree. It was in the very next moment from my becoming aware of what was now my former state, that I came to find my self on the ground just under that tree, and quite to my delightful discontent. In that moment between moments of my once being apart of the tree to finding myself on the ground, I had come upon a knowledge of something called Chemistry and Psychology, words which I had not even heard spoken. I had knowledge, abilities, and experiences that were not limited to just these philosophies but also a vast array of things. I gained the ability to squeeze juice from any object. This is an ability that a few have in the land of Nature’s Bounty. My favorite are oranges. There are varying requests of fruits to squeeze, however some find the privilege of squeezing the fruit from the essence of life trees and bottle it. This is called Frank’s Redhot Sauce, just the right amount of spice and plenty of flavor.         From this moment between moments, I knew of places called New York and Australia, a land of ice, Vietnam, Thailand, Malaysia, China. In the land of ice I had climbed waterfalls, and ridden horses through valleys, as ominous glacier watched me on my way. I had traversed the deserts of Australia, swam beneath its seas, and lived in its bush. I have seen visions for its land and for its people. The craters where bombs once fell in Vietnam came to me in that moment between moments and are still with me today, as are the people of that nation. I traveled the histories of Malaka and the modernity of Kuala Lumpur. I heard the calls go out five times a day, the mornings were the most mysterious to me. I lived with the people in the Hills, and ate cinnamon bark in the forest with their shaman. I have driven in a mischievous “tuk-tuk” amidst the streets of Bangkok and bowed before my God in Chang Mai. I have seen the rainforests of Costa Rica, it was there that I saw that dirtiness of Kathy McBride’s combat boot’s. My heart was pierced in China as I saw its glory and its demise. I have been covered in the Breath amidst a man and his child sitting next to a half fallen wall along the streets of Kunming. Whether or not this was all a dream or reality I am not sure, but I move on from that moment between moments to the moments before me.         I hope to return to this land someday, but for now I must continue in the reasons for being sent out from this place. As the days move on I often wonder if all men are not from this land where the sun graces the earth, where the Spirit moves as plainly as you and I, and where unfathomable glories reside. Perhaps in a moment between moments they will see another world, and just as I, wish to return to it someday.

Somehow Jeff obtained a picture of Patrick's Mom's Combat Boots!