Life Lessons



Things We Must Learn and Practice Everyday


Self-awareness is the secret artform of understanding yourself.  Understanding yourself is not easy. Learning your strengths and weaknesses. Finding out what your values and beliefs while making informed decisions on the spot on the way through the maze of personal development.

Emotional intelligence is really a tricky aspect because emotions are tricky by their very nature. We learn early in life that we can use our emotions to get what we want from others. So, as we develop our emotional intelligence, we have to resist beng tricked by managing how we respond to our own emotions. This is the only way we get a firm understanding of what each emotion feels like and can understand the emotions of others. If we fail to control our own emotions, building healthy relationships and fostering effective communication will be impossible.

Critical thinking and problem-solving is one thing that is going to define your personality. What do you do when you are faced with a problem?. At first, we panic. Panic is our first response to any new situation, but we don’t have to act on it. Even when a good thing happens, we usually have a moment when we don’t know what to do. As each new situation arises, we analyze it and develop specific tools to deal with it. Each tool is a thought and should lead to you finding creative solutions. Many problems can not be solved but only present a challenge that needs to be navigated through well-informed decisions

Communication skills will help in navigating the problems that can’t be solved. Effective communication will allow you to building relationships and resolve conflicts that arise. Understanding verbal and non-verbal communication is vital for expressing yourself.

Resilience is not so much a skill, but a strength. It will grow faster if your exercise it. All you have to do is bounce back from setbacks, adapt to change, and not give up in the face of challenges. This strength is crucial for personal and professional growth. If you do not learn to overcome and adapt, you will continually be moved back to square one over and over.

Read three chapters every night before bedtime. I used to suggest one chapter, but three is better. This is create a pattern for continuous learning. You must embracing a growth mindset and stay open to learning new things. You have to learn how to learn. So that all throughout life you can continue to develop. Staying up to date in our changing world will put you miles ahead of the next guy and it will guide you to pursuing new opportunities.

Integrity and ethical behavior sound like policy driven actions. But, it is just being honesty and true. Integrity can be achieved by acting and reacting as if you are being watched. Ethical behavior changes at times, but you will know what’s ethical when you are building trust with yourself. Others will see that you respect yourself and they will follow your lead.

Developing effective time management and organizational skills shows others that you value your time and can be trusted with their time. Obviously, it will help prioritize tasks, be more productive, and achieving the goals you set for yourself. But, the most important thing is that you learn to be on time and ready.

Taking an interested in personal finance, so that you can budget, save, and invest will lead to financial stability, opportunities, and eventually to financial independence.

Empathy and Sympathy. I separate the two by telling myself that empathy usually leads to an action, while sympathy just makes me feel bad. They are both emotions. Empathy comes from (or creates) a connection to someone else and allows you to feel their emotions as your own. As you cultivate empathy and sympathy, you will also be managing your levels of compassion towards others. This will create new positive relationships, deeper understanding of others, and allow you to find your place in the community.

Self-control techniques will allow anger and frustration to be dealt with in a healthy way. Practicing mindfulness, meditaion, deep breathing, and seeking professional help when it comes to addiction or harmful behavior.
We should strive to develop a certain level assertiveness skills, so we can express our needs, set boundaries, and offer opinions in a respectful and confident manner. Being assertive will help you create healthy relationships and avoid being taken advantage of.

Choices and Consequences

Choices and Consequences: we’ve made a few, so we’ve faced a few.

You get to make the decision, but you won’t get to choose the consequence.

You will personally choose the reason for the suffering, but not who suffers or how much. Bad choices will lead to you watching people you love suffering.

Whether it’s stealing, lying, or just being where you shouldn’t be, everything is a choice and there will be consequences. Bad choices are everywhere. You’re probably suffering from a few right now, but you knew full well there would suffering in the future and you made the bad choice anyway.

You know your making a deal. I’ll get this and then I’ll have to pay this, so… you bargain with yourself.

Is it worth it?

Who will know?

Sure, I’ll only pay if I get caught. Right?




You start paying immediately and so does everyone around you. Why? How?

Because of what and how it makes you think. It changes your thoughts and how you interact with the people in your life. And it changes them instantly. From that moment onward you are not the same.

Your bad choices bring suffering and pain to you and everyone. You know all the terrible and horrible consequences that are sure to come to pass, but for a brief moment, you convince yourself that it won’t matter. It won’t be so bad.

And in that blink of a second, you make a choice…you set into motion a mechanism that is completely out of control. The entire process begins at your command and continues until it decides to stop.

Is that how you want your life to play out?

Out of control?

Process after process running full blast and all of them started by you?

Here’s how to avoid an out of control life:

Don’t make bad choices.

Learn to tell people “no.”

Get away from the places offering bad choices.

Get away from the people making bad choices.


At some point, you must realize that your suffering doesn’t always come from a process you started.

So, look around and identify the people who are not trustworthy or helpful. Let them know you deserve to be around people who are brave, kind, resourceful, and cheerful.

It’s hard to do. But good choices always are. Especially at first.

Old people say: Time will out!! And they are 100% right.

If you give someone enough yesterdays, then you’ll know exactly what they’re going to do tomorrow.

Wilber and the Pebble

Wilber and the Pebble

by thadd presley

In the heart of the town lies a forest where a group of children had gathered for a macabre game they played on new kids. Wilber was twelve and had just moved onto South Laughter Street. Oblivious to the horrors that awaited him, he agreed to go into the woods and bring a pebble back from the stream.

Even from the end of the cul-de-sac, the air smelled of moist decay, and the ground squelched beneath his feet, as if it were soaked in the blood of countless soldiers the group said were buried here during the war.

Suddenly, Wilber stumbled upon a grotesque image. He started to laugh, but it wasn’t a joke. It took a moment for his brain to realize he was looking at a mutilated corpse. Its entrails spilled out like a grotesque tapestry. Flies buzzed around the black, putrid remains, feasting on the decaying flesh. The sight was enough to make even the bravest of souls retch in disgust. But Wilber, driven by shame and the need to be accepted, pushed forward. He walked way around the deer carcass, but didn’t dar tear his eyes away, out of fear it might bolt upright and start after him.

Meanwhile, those who had initially reveled in their cruel dare to send the new kid into the haunted forest in search of a smooth creek pebble, began to worry. Anxiety gnawed at their hearts as minutes turned into half an hour. Then, fear crept into their voices as they called out his name.

Their once playful banter about him shitting his pants when he saw he dead deer replaced by genuine concern. Little did they know, their innocent dare had led their friend into a nightmare from which he would never return.

The guilt gnawed at Sarah’s conscience and she was the first to suggest they go in and get him. “He’s lost, that’s all. We can find him and bring him out. He’s probably sitting at the big tree.” She knew they had pushed Wilber too early. They didn’t know him well enough to play a joke like this and now they would have to go in the forest too.

Jake’s face paled, his bravado crumbling under the weight of their actions. He knew Emily was usually the voice of reason, His voice trembled with fear, her eyes darting around as if expecting the forest itself to close up against them, “I don’t know. Maybe we should just say we were all in the forest and he got lost.”

Driven by a mix of guilt and desperation, the trio walked into the opening of the forest. Immediately their voices lost all power as though the desolate woods absorbed them. They continued to call Wilber’s name until they heard an owl.

The air grew heavy with an oppressive silence, broken only by the distant call of the owl. Shadows danced around them, whispering secrets of unspeakable horrors.

As they argued over going further in or lying, the hours became darkness.

South Laughter Strret parents were called in to continue searching the forest in groups, but come morning there was still no sign of Wilber.

“Wasted Time Travel” by Lola Ellen LaForge

Wasted Time Travel

by Lola Ellen Laforge

Every day was like the day before. Get up, wash, eat, read, go outside to exercise. Wait to die. What were the things he had most wanted? How many years had passed since he’d planned to go anywhere or dreamt of anything beyond the sequence of events that brought him here? Could he have taken a different path? Sure. The trajectory of a human life can shift with a solitary choice; even a simple one like where to eat; turning left instead of right; shifting one’s course on a whim. Any plans he’d had beyond July 21, 2010, were obliterated in the wake of a single action. Was it a moment of passion? Could it even be called that? After all, the writing was on the wall long before it was spattered with blood. In retrospect he could see how change is less of a choice than it the consequence of making one. There is no going back.


Every day was like the day before. Access to the extensive library permitted him to read up on subjects that interested him – the collective consciousness, epigenetics, cause and effect, and time-travel. ‘I always wished I had more time to read’, he muttered under his breath, flipping through an old edition of Popular Mechanics. If millions of people had stood in awe of the Eiffel Tower, did he really need to see it with his own eyes? Seeing the Eiffel tower was transmitted in his genes. The tower was as near to him as his grandfather, who had spent three years in Paris working as a bellman. He asked himself why he should need to own a Ducati when thousands of cycle enthusiasts rode them. The experience of riding a Ducati was in his soul’s DNA. Every possible experience was somewhere recorded in the Akashic records; stored in a supercomputer on the ethereal plane. There was no need to go back.


Every day was like the day before. Although travel was still his passion, he had come to see how reading could take him anywhere he wished to go. From what he had read, his vivid imagination was suited to time travel. Prior to that fateful night he had imagined in fifty ways how a crime such as his would unfold; never certain that he could commit it. Not right up to the moment when he thought she had left him the only option what would force him to abandon all his wishes. Now (if he was honest) he’d have to admit that, since his arraignment, his wishes were starkly different. All he wanted now was to do the things most men took for granted. If he could do anything tonight, he would drive his old Mazda pickup down to the am/pm, pick up a couple of stovepipe 40s, sit out at Widow’s Peak and drink the sun down. He’d take his little brother fishing; stopping off at Fosters for burgers. Or sit at his mother’s kitchen table for tea. She loved it when he came around. He’d fix this or that, take out the trash, make her laugh. She always had something that needed repairing. He could almost smell her kitchen right now: simmered lemons, vanilla, strong coffee. And he could predict with near certainty his mother’s every query (and rebuke) while they sat for tea.

“Has that girl left yet? Are you still giving her money?”

“I worry about you getting yourself caught up with drifters and troublemakers. You trust people too easily and get taken advantage of”.

She would look at him with a depth of concern; her eyes pleading for some sign that she was reaching him and that he would comply. He would never go back.


Every day was like the day before. If a bucket list were things a man would vow never to do before he died, well that’d be easy. He’d never have left the military which had given him structure and purpose, and a steady paycheck. He’d never have walked into the Orange Twist that summer afternoon. And he damned sure wouldn’t have spoken to her; or wanted her… or loved her. He’d harbored doubts about her from their very first meeting. She had been so responsive to him, though. Her easy laughter; encouraging him to keep talking. Her willing body; luring him back again and again. Right up to the last time he had heard her familiar footfalls echoed across the wooden planks of the dock. That night her laughter had turned to a derisive cackle; her responsiveness, mocking. Her fists clenched tight in a rage, pounding against his face and neck. Through liquored lips she had spat out what he could not bear to hear her say. Things he did not want her to know about him. Things he himself had told her in moments of weakness. All that he had harbored inside to armor himself had spewed from her whiskey-soaked mouth. He had so wanted to trust her, but she was never the one he could trust; and he knew it. This knowledge haunted him now; that he could not trust himself. That night when he had finally quieted her she stood staring at him; emptiness filling her cheeks and forehead. Emptiness that didn’t spread up from the neck where the puncture wound seemed to be gasping for air, but from the center of her face, moving up and out toward her ears and forehead. She was like a blooming flower; neither her mind nor body able to process the fatal injury. He had shoved her away and she had tripped backward toward the edge of the wall, onto the boat hook that entered through the side of her neck and protruded from her throat. He couldn’t see her well in the dark night. He grabbed her and yanked her forward and she slumped over his arm. He quickly released her, and she slipped on the puddle forming at her feet, her neck twisting up and back as she fell to the side, smacking her chin on the dock before splashing down into the rotting water. He didn’t want to go back.


Every day was like the day before. Get up, wash, eat, read, go out to exercise. Wait to die. If a bucket list was a list of things a man would do instead, he would have walked right past the Orange Twist on his way to his mother’s that afternoon, not even looking through the faded window of the pub toward the now familiar laughter. He would’ve shifted his course that day, and even the subtlest shift would have taken him a different way. He would have visited his mother for tea and, over tea, made her laugh instead. The single item on that backward bucket list of things he would never do was time travel. Instead, he would travel every day in his mind to the places he knew for sure he would avoid at all costs if time travel were possible. Those few places where fate had lurked, disguised as opportunity, waiting to steal his life: the Orange Twist, the harbor, her bed. There is no going back.

After the Ambush

After the Ambush

by thadd presley

Over the next few days, Victor slept through the day and traveled at night. He picked his way through rubbish and broken remains littering the gutters and alleys. He searched for anything he could use for bait or possibly barter. Anything to make life easier. All he had come across alongside the streets and avenues of the city were burnt husks of automobiles. They lined the roads in both directions.

Besides that, and worse in all the ways imaginable, were the staggering heaps of what he hoped were failed funeral pyres. When he saw the fifth or sixth heap of human bodies, some ashes and cinders, some only got hot enough to melt, while some were clothed, most were not. Yet, there they were, all together, holding up their part of the final conglomeration, marking their place in the long line of human development.

Moving deeper into the city, the buildings became more deserted than he had expected. Perhaps, the news of him had spread this far and he was being avoided. But, also, it could be the area which people were avoiding.

Sudden bangs echoed out of the night, along with them voices of men working. It wasn’t until he sat long enough to see the silhouette of a crane on the brightening horizon that he realized he was close to a shipping container yard. It brought two startling facts to light. He was traveling east, when he thought he was going west. Also, he was closer to a river than he thought. This was all good and bad news.

He was cautious as he made his way through the maze of towering metal crates, a chilling wind blew off the water, sending shivers down his spine. The long rays of morning light cast eerie shadows, adding to the sense of foreboding. Suddenly, a faint whimper reached Victor’s ears, drawing him closer to a particular container.

Can you hear me?” A young voice called. Then, there came a light tapping. “I know someone is there.”

With tremendous trepidation, Victor quickly walked across an aisle, closing the distance between him and what he thought had to be a girl’s voice. It was coming from a container. He would have never heard it, if it hadn’t been for the thick steel door being left open.

Then, he felt really dumb. He knew he’d walked into a trap. Fear gripped him and he tensed. His body and mind awaiting the blow that would surely come.

But, when it didn’t, he realized he’d been holding his breath. Slowly, he told himself, stand up and get a look.

Slowly he walked toward the gap in the container doors. To steal a glance inside would be asking for trouble and possibly closer to suicide than he’d ever been. But, he had to do it. He had to know.

Total darkness, of course. But, that wasn’t all. The air blowing through the gap was cold. Really cold. Upon touch the metal of the container was even colder. How had he not noticed the condensation before now? Whatever was inside was meant to be fresh and kept that way for a long time.

God, bless who ever left this door open. It was food. Inside would be pounds of meat and fruit and …

But, the voice…

Victor worked up his courage, deciding if he were going to die it would be to helping someone… not because there was a possibility of fresh food.

Easing his way through the gap without touching the doors, he stopped to wait for his eyes to adjust. It would take a few minutes, but the dim morning light wasn’t enough to help without it. Part of his plan was to stay quiet and still only until he heard the voice again, but even that took too long.

The unimaginable loudness that a scratch of a match makes in total silence is deafening. The darkness sprang into light showing a mostly empty container. Only six wooden boxes in the whole place. Three lines against the walls of each side. From one of the boxes on the left side wall, the voice called. “I see your light. Please, help me.”

Every nerve in Victor’s body jumped at the sound of her voice. He was sure about it being a girl. He stepped quickly and bent down to the wooden box. The tapping started again.

Quiet now. I’m here now.” He pried the lid up enough to get his fingers under the wood. Lifting it up in one motion, he revealed a haunting sight. She was laying in a bed of hay and wet sawdust. Couldn’t be more than 14 years old, maybe older because she was so starved. But, she was just a young, helpless girl.

Her small face was so pale and fragile. Victor’s heart sank as he realized he was too late. The girl was motionless, except for her eyes. Her body was nude, but covered with the straw. The parts he could see were smeared in a thick, dark, and oily mixture, like dirty engine grease. He reached down, his hands trembling, and gently touched her cold. It was cold, but not too cold.

Her eyes blinked then and brightened. “Are you real?”

Victor nodded. “I am.”

The Late Night Knife Fight

The Late Night Knife Fight

by thadd presley

Victor stood in the dimly lit alley, his heart pounding with anticipation. The air was heavy with tension as a man had just demanded money. Slowly Victor turned and saw the menacing grin grow across the face of a very fat man. There were thick patches of scars crossed his chest and neck. A single flickering streetlamp cast deforming shadows across the muggers lumpy face. The strobe effect adding another level of danger to the ambush.

The sweaty flesh was lumpy with cancerous lesions and bacteria filled boils, a grotesque sight at anytime, in any place, but here in a dark alleyway, during the middle of the night, it meant that Victor was in more danger than just being robbed and killed. Even a light misting or splatter of blood meant a infection. The strongest antibiotic wouldn’t be enough to kill the bacteria. There was a very smaller chance that the virus would mature and develop into cancer, but coming into contact with the man’s blood would guarantee a long, painful decline into the crushing mouth of infection and disease.

Victor measured the distance betweent them. Eight feet was close enough to demand money, but not close enough to take it. He could outrun the threat. Maybe. But, it would leave this scum to target and steal from someone else. And worse, even.

Victor tightened his grip on the handle of the curved blade, feeling its familiar weight and balance. Then, he loosened his grip. He swung the cold steel out in an arc, making sure the man could see it. He half expected the man to give up, considering his weight and miserable state of health, but the grin widened across the man’s face and opened into a wide gaping, toothless maw.

With a sudden burst of energy, the fat man lunged forward. The speed of the double-edged short sword came from the need to surprise and the painful anger of desperation.

Victor swiftly sidestepped the attack, his reflexes honed by countless battles. He countered the wild stab with a swift double slash, aiming first for the wrist, then for the soft skin just below the man’s ribs.

In a moment of shuttering disbelief, their blades clashed, the clang of metal on metal echoing through the alleyway and reverberated in Victor’s bones. The sudden halt of his swinging arm made everything clear. The fat man could not be under estimated. He was fast and he was strong.  Adrenaline rush into his blood, coursing through his veins like rocket fuel, drowning out everything except the fat man, heightening his senses and sharpening his focus to a level unknown to most people.

The following attacks turned the alley into a battleground of swirling shadows and slashing steel. The mugger out matched victor in brute strength. It was evident that if not for technique and skill he would already be wounded or dead. But, because of his practice and agility, he was able to time his strikes with precision, exploiting the man’s soft belly and hanging side rolls.

Victor noticed the fat man’s pacing and patterns slowed. As he lost his breath and strength his attacks grew more wild and erratic. Pain and desperation still motivated him. Victor knew he was very dangerous and to stay alive and unharmed he must force his mind to be clear and focused. He had to anticipate each jab and swing of the blade. While trying to only dodge and not parrying because a little slip could slide and cut his thumb or arm.

The chance of catching his disease from the fat man was probably enough to scare anyone from wanting to fight. Resisting him meant infection and infection in this place meant a painful death.. But, this was not the case for Victor. Knowing the man would target others only made him want to defend himself more.  It made him faster and smarter than the fat man.

With a final surge of strength, Victor seized an opening. He swiftly disarmed the man, sending his blade clattering to the ground. The man stumbled backward, his eyes wide with disbelief and defeat.

Victor stood tall, his chest heaving with exertion. He looked into the man’s eyes, a mix of pity and triumph in his gaze. He had won the fight, but it was not over.

There was no joy in victory anymore. The violence had taken its toll.

Victor’s blade found its final mark, opening a deep, bright-red gash under the man’s chin. Blood squirted and spewed like a liquid arrow directly toward Victor’s face, but by some miracle of muscle memory he managed to twist clear of the fountain.

First, he heard it and then he saw the blood pattering the ground. The fat man held his neck and turned from side to side, painting the final picture of his life. Death’s red graffiti bloomed and ran in jagged lines through the cracks of the filthy asphalt at the end of a stinking alleyway. A fitting masterpiece that perfectly described the brutal finality of their struggle.

As the first rays of dawn began to break through the darkness, Victor turned away from his fallen opponent. He knew that his nightmares were far from over, that more battles awaited him in the shadows of nearer the heart of the city.

With a heavy heart, Victor disappeared into the early morning mist, his steps echoing the weight of his choices. The knife fight had come to an end, but the red painting would forever remain in his mind as a reminder of the price for desperation and fear.

Stewed Thoughts


Today’s Special

Stewed Thoughts,
with Over-Ripe Opinions
Home-Grown Philosophies 

While They Last!!


Sweat Drenched,
The long, hot Nights
slowly melting
into Tomorrows,

Safely, Quietly,
within my Dreams,
There’s nothing between me

and everything.

As I evaporated
sliding ever closer
to the abyss of sleep,
Suddenly, dawned on me
was the Why,
things change.

Why everything,
So, completely,
Comes to me
As if I planned it
all along
The darkness begets dawn

The sun rises
uncovering hidden relief,
burning through
all aspects of disbelief.
Drying the Oasis
of thirsty doubters to stone
until dust is made of the skeptic bones.

On the inside, I was troubled,
but still I wondered
How did all this change?
Was it a miracle?
A mystery?
Maybe I sold my soul accidentally?
Or maybe…

I had curiously,
connected to an abundant,
inexhaustible, all-knowing

I was adopted,
brought in,
made an heir
to a powerful, timeless

The world different
And I was changed
on the outside
and the inside

For the first time
There was nothing
between me
and everything.

Haiku Twenty Twenty-Two

From Page Number One
Haiku: Number: Two Zero Two Two
Thaddeus Maximus

Whoa! And Wow Wee Wow
We’re all Willing Witnesses
To our Promises


We Are Constructs
Painful wrecks carefully chiseled
From God’s Own Image


Ring Ring Tinnitus
Musical Gift That Keeps Giving
I hear you, clearly


Click, Pop, Magic Knees
You are amazing, thank you
for everything


Patience, I see you
Growing, silently, But True
The things we will do


The Great I… Always Me… Me!!
Get A Grip!! Grow Up!!


Elusive Story
My American Novel
I know you’re in there


Mental Chain Reaction
Chemical Spirit


Our Lives Read Quickly
‘Though Your Character Lives
Your Fable Will Fade


Great Shepard, My Lord
I am your littlest sheep
Please remember me.
First Words Written in
the year 2022
Thank you for Reading

Thousand Acre Garden

That Garden, That Knowledge,

And Why We Keep Coming Back to the Table

For the first time, possibly the first time ever, we are all faced with a thriving 1000 acre garden of knowledge, topped to the brim, overflowing with information and teeming with teachers from countless colleges, and online classes. Any hobby, any subject, career or past time can be studied from anywhere in the world by anyone at anytime, at whatever pace suits best.

Any endeavor can be explored through pictures, books, and a myriad of multi-media. Lectures held either in person or remotely from over 70 years of archives can be attended immediately; language and location is no longer of any consequence.

Files of dedicated data are constantly compiled and stored outside of the normal channels of learning, the reasons for this ranges from professional, to corporate, to amateur. Every step breaking down every facet of any imagined interest into bite sized easily digestible portions ready to deliver. There is no limit to what a person can learn or where they can apply that knowledge after is is attained.

And, although this beautiful garden is a delicately designed, thoroughly thought out arrangement, perfectly planned with each lesson being it’s own individual intellectual treasure just waiting to be uncovered, this could not be further from the truth.

This garden is wild. The fruits it offers us is old and has appeared many times throughout past ages.

It is unkempt.

The fact that all this knowledge lies at the top layer, mostly exposed, or atleast easily accessible by anyone who is interested is enough to look must prove that this garden of knowledge is a natural phenomenon, like oxygen or sunlight. It’s certainly not something a human civilization or culture would created and hand out completely free for people to enjoy.


The seeds of this garden of knowledge were sown deep into the soil eons and ages ago by something set on the pursuit of educating and evolving a people and planet. This didn’t have to be planned by an alien race or an all-powereful deity.

This explosion of knowledge could just be part of a very simple primitive system.  Even the fundamental system that brought subatomic matter together, is the same that produced gigantic organic factories able to manufacture and pump out megatons of complex molecules into the universe.

Time and Gravity started with electrons and protons and grew into galaxies filled with stars and nebulae and planets, which in our case became a world filled with animals and cultures and who knows what else is to come.

All it takes is Time and Gravity and boom, you get everything we see, hear, taste, and think.

So, after eons, and ages, and ages of eons, Time and Gravity could be responsible for some very delicate and highly sophisticated factories that are able to pump out some very surprising results.

Maybe elements we call Language and Knowledge and Technology.

We know that many Mysteries and Secrets existed in the past and even still today.

At one time, not long ago, the formation of elements and the forces inside of stars was beyond the horizons of our imagination. However, we can now look in at atomic structures and out at astronomical structure and see science as just a fact of life.


Our history is just as elaborate and extensive as it seems to be. From the things Egyptians did to the things modern civilizations can not do, we are overwhelmed by the things we have forgotten. Just the magnitude of ancient truths we see, yet have no explanation for, should be enough to convince us that we are returning to a level of knowledge we once had.

Sea of Love

As We Cast Ourselves Onto The Sea of Love

Thadd Presley

Anyone who talked to, or knew anything about, those who went out onto the sea and over the horizon in search of the elusive dream, must imagine crossing that strange ocean and how it will feel when first they set their feet and plant their flag somewhere in the pristine sands. Stories told of warm beaches and  hinted about the many ways it changes a person’s life.  No one knew for sure what lied out in the depths nor could they name the island.  No one ever dared a guess as to what it would be to go there and no one thought to ask the best way.

It was enough, only, to have hope and strength enough to set off alone into the vast ocean with nothing but a small boat and excited expectation. Arriving alive upon one of the sandy islands with a face full of sun during the day and eyes filled with countless stars at night was more than most would ever acheive.

“I’m going to that place lovers go,” one young man burned into a small piece of leather and that was enough, that was just the way of it.  All the directions around the compass and all the destinations on the world map meant nothing if love didn’t set the wheel and drive the vessel.

No one took provisions or asked for a map, no first mate ever boarded with the explorer.  It was a lone voyage.  On occasion, there were a few words quietly spoken by some who cared to announce their departure, but it rarely surpassed: “Bon voyage.  If I don’t return just know I am happy and I did as I knew best.”

An endless blue sky sat above a never ending ocean, indistinguishable except for sliding wave or a floating cloud. Then, with a pull of anchor, onto the sea of love they went.  Just a hope and a prayer.