You have entered the realm of a writer.

Welcome to A Writer's Landscape!

You have entered the realm of my mind where words play with the fabric of our existence. This is the map of my imagination: the very foundations of inspiration, musing, and thought splayed for your wandering eyes. Dive deep into the tides of these forces and experience my reality, my fantasy, my world; and if you should be so inclined, share your words with this land.

Peace and Love!

J Hart F

Sunday, February 28, 2010

A Wise Man Asked of Me

A wise Man asked of me,
"What do you want?"
Numb were my thoughts
Hungry was my heart
Too quickly I answered
"To be happy."

The word, though it was said,
left chasms through my world
where meaning left cause,
images were wordless
and something deeper looked around
to say

"There is more, so much more,
more than this or that could say!
To be is to be without,
the need for joy can lead
but what is wanted ensures
a path away."

To be happy. Be Happy!
The question rethought
to what I may want in
life? In love? For me?
So I am not happy
right now...

What do I want?
Petty material last of the least,
No joy has come of it.
Money, as things, is loved
and leaves us lost.
Without, no less.

Of love I have, hold
dear and truth, as any would.
Respect is earned throughout,
treasured with honesty and desire.
But I am not happy
right now...

Then Dreams. My Dreams.
True Dreams.
Respected love for being of
aspiration and goals to
fulfill the depths of my

The wise Man will ask me
"What do you want?"
Mind smiling with care,
I shall say with vigor,
thoughts beckoning the truth
of complexity:

"I want my dreams;
to be myself
and hold my words
and know their permanence
to teach the Earth
to be as one."

I wonder then,
what will he ask me now?

Is Speech Based on Visibility?

Sitting at a coffee shop, as I oft do, I overheard a girl say, and I quote, "Call me back to see where I am slash what I'm doing."

My immediate thought was to visualize what she was saying, because slash is a verb and made absolutely no sense where it sat in that sentence... It makes sense in the context of reading: "Call me back to see where I am/what I'm doing." Though there are better ways to write this phrase, transcribing verbal queues allows the imperfect compound sentence. (Am I even diagnosing the sentence structure properly?) After rearranging the sentence, I couldn't help wondering "Why wouldn't you just say 'or'?" There were other thoughts placed after that, but insulting the girl wouldn't be beneficial here.

As children, we don't learn to talk based on what we see. Well, I take that back: our visual queues (signifiers) do stimulate words (signifieds, which then turn into signifiers queuing the objects [signifieds])(Oh the vicious circle) once they are learned. But these visuals aren't written words at first. Writing comes later, when understanding of language has already been obtained. Malleability is taught to us throughout our education, especially with English given the many alternate meanings of words: there, their, and they're as an instance.

With this flexibility, we apparently change the language altogether? Which we are, as a culture. We invent words in English (ex: Muggle), assign it meaning, add it to our language, assert it in our dictionaries, and claim it to be real. Now we have a new one, one that I must admit I might have used under certain circumstances in my speech. But...I don't think it deserves commonplace in out tongue.

'Slash' ~ symbolizing 'or' in context of juxtaposed opinions, events, actions, objects, etc. ex: What did they say slash do slash mean?

Would be an odd addition to the definition we recognize for 'slash' as a verb.

Alright...I just looked it up. The bastards:

Printing A virgule:
a short oblique stroke (/) between two words indicating that whichever is appropriate may be chosen to complete the sense of the text in which they occur: The defendant and/or his/her attorney must appear in court. (Courtesy of

However, this does not mean it is a part of verbal language. It would have been more accurate for the girl to say "Call me back to see where I am virgule what I'm doing."

Ok...that just sounds funny...

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

My Day

Preparations for my Golden Birthday have been a year long process. Subconsciously I always knew it was the year I wanted to be published, to have that recognition of my self worth by a publisher picking me up and putting me out in the world. It was also the birthday for which I looked forward to the most. Sure 16, 18, and 21 were pivotal years which allowed for the growing responsibilities to be owned, but my mind was always looking forward to 24.

Today is my 24th birthday: February 24, 2010.

Today starts my year, as far as I see it; the year I accomplish my life, start down the road which will actually bring my ultimate dreams to fruition, become who I want to be. As a kid, I thought I would be out of school by now, working and writing and teaching. I believed I would be famous in some way, recognized in the world as an influential artist trying to better the world, forcing people to think about their circumstances and how they affect the worldly community. I thought I would be living alone, possibly with a dog or cat, in the middle of a beautiful forest where nature could speak to me and teach me and inspire me.

As we all know, these things have not happened yet. I am a sophomore in college with so many plans I will not graduate with a '4 year' degree, but more like three '4 year' degrees after about six years...possibly seven. I am not famous beyond my job and friends, though it seems the people I have met and who truly are able to understand who I am benefit from my personality on some level I honestly don't comprehend. Fortunately, or not, I am not published yet either; though this blog is technically a publication in its own right.

I guess what I'm trying to say is my dreams have changed drastically. It's still my goal to be published by a year form today, culminating my 24th birthday in a present to myself which means more to me than anything else (I think). But a month ago that milestone was so brutally beat up and bruised I had to seriously reconsider this year and what it could accomplish. Within eight hours at a conference geared to help support writers become authors, I had gone from 'ready to be published' to 'I've got another two years before I can accomplish my dreams'. It was hard, but I made the best of it (and this blog is that moment's child).

A month has gone by and so much has changed. I am writing again, which I've been struggling to do since I finished writing my first novel. This story has fans, one in particular who inspires me to write more and faster than anyone has ever done before. My blog is filling faster than I actually thought it would, and it has motivated me to change the way I look at my life. Structure has come out of the past month, a structure and precision I have been longing for. Relationships are changing around me, new and deeper friendships are forming, and my love is expanding more than I thought it could. I am happy, even though my measures of happiness and accomplishment are not being met at all. I feel this is so ironic and beautiful and perfect, though I wish I could be happy with those achievements in hand.

Yesterday started a thought process which led to this posting. Yesterday made me appreciate what I've done to ensure this year is perfect. Yesterday was perfect.

This aforementioned fan gave me something which, in its being, told me everything is right. I needed that, because I feared today was going to unravel my ambitions and stick me in tar. He gave me a mounted Blue Morpho butterfly. Blue Morphos have always been my favorite butterfly, they are majestic; shimmering blue wings that flash a green so alluding to the sea, flying in the air after bearing their time as a land based creature, passionate in their flutterings. Rare and stunning to behold. It is also a character in my story, "The Changed Earth" (which is available on my blog!), an important character representing the physical manifestation of Gaia to Ethan/Diodoros.

Essentially, my friend and fan gave me everything I could have wanted for my birthday: a symbol, an assurance, an appreciation, a sense of worth and meaning.

Now I cry. I've started my Golden day with tears of... of... content, even though this word doesn't convey what it truly is: happiness, comfort, assurance, inspiration, friendship, love... It's a birthday that means everything to me, and yesterday allowed for me to come to terms with the weight of today. Nobody, perhaps, knew of today's importance (except now it's out in the world for everyone to know). I didn't even know, consciously, the price of this one day. But now I get to appeciate what I'm doing, where I'm going, and who I have in my life as support, love, and inspiration.

Thank you.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

My First Favorite Poem

Many workmen
Built a huge ball of masonry
Upon a mountain-top.
Then they went to the valley below,
And turned to behold their work.
"It is grand," they said;
They loved the thing.

Of a sudden, it moved:
It came upon them swiftly;
It crushed them all to blood.
But some had opportunity to squeal.

By Stephen Crane (I don't know when it was published)

It's kinda funny, isn't it. Kinda sad too, but so relevant to many periods in life. I'm just going to ramble on here about what I think this poem means, how it is significant, so stay with my while my mind works. I'm it may sound unrefined, and that's how I want it today. It's sort of how I need it today, no structure, no rules, just my thoughts pouring freely.

Being introduced to "Many workmen" is obviously very important. Who are these workmen? Are they a representation of the human condition, where we are working forever to sustain our way of life, to find a happiness, a joy, a sense of security in troubled times? Reading through many of Crane's other poetry, he seems to delve a lot on religion; God most specifically (though referencing this deity as 'god' as apposed to 'God', which is an interesting turn for someone who may or may not have been religious. If this poem is then about religion, the workmen are either the clergy or the worshipers. Clergymen build faith for their congregations, and sometimes hold their positions as sacred, as being closer (possibly) to god, thus the "mountain-top". If this is then a critique on faith, religion and religious institutions, then the "valley below" is where we are, where we must live apart from the divine. The clergy and the church then have built up something so heavy, so devastating, that when it comes down upon them there's nothing to protect their own skins. People will criticize and diminish what the clergy have created, and perhaps spin there own interpretation of the church they so clung to. Revolts, death, massacre, martyrdom, etc.; all rising from a belief system created by workmen, by the church and its immediate peoples.

However, if the "workmen" aren't a manifestation of the church's representatives, then who are they? Could they simply be man, humankind? What have we, as humankind built then? Surely buildings and institutions and wealth, etc. etc. etc.; but it all amounts to the Earth, the world. And we've built it up so much, done so many things to it that we're proud of. Yes, we are proud that we have cars that get us from point A to point B in X amount of time, regardless of the true cost of manufacturing the parts to the cars and shipping them so we can build the cars and ship them somewhere else so they can consume a seemingly (though not really) endless amount of petroleum to kill the atmosphere. And what will happen when the earth comes down "upon [us] swiftly"? Well, we'll all die because we didn't truly see what we had done by building a "ball... Upon a mountain-top." And yes, there are those individuals who are squealing now, trying to stop us from damaging our Earth beyond repair. And what about them? Well...they die too.

Ultimately, I think this poem is hilarious. Its humor is well disguised as tragedy, for that is what it will be.

What do you think about it? I want to know your opinions.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

The Changed Earth (Part 6.1)

"Look there's another one!"

"That one's huge!"


The giggling cut through Ethan's heart like earthquakes tearing the surface right through a city's downtown; glass shattering in a crystalline symphony as iron shrieks against the swaying and buckling of the walls. Children's voices marveling at the beauty of the Blue Morpho population now fluttering about the island would normally bring a smile to Ethan's face.

Today, they haunted him.

Weight pressed on his mind; innocence to protect, a world to rebuild, a culture to save, a civilization to nurture, and a war to end. A war to end, he thought again, trying to figure out how he could prevent any loses. Or at least keep the number of casualties to an absolute minimum.

Antoni fell into a silence upon Ethan's return a week ago, shame overcoming his demeanor, wreaking havoc over his eyes, his thoughts and depressing him into a self-serving solitude. Fear, above all else, manipulated his emotions. Alexis tried desperately to break through his walls, but after three days she gave into his desires and followed Ethan's respect for Antoni's motivations.

Even Antoni's shock hadn't compared to Ethan's though, and Alexis feared more so for her former mentor than she did for her colony. Ethan had not shared the entirety of his encounter, and she waited for a full disclosure to better understand the situation. What was understood was the overall threat of conflict, for which Alexis had already created protections for any immediate onslaughts. Once everything had been explained to the humans, a severity descended their tiny culture. Everyone except the children walked around with strained eyes puffy with restless sleep; stiff legs ready to release into finding cover from the skies, a practiced lesson recently put into full appreciation. However much Ethan was needed, he couldn't face working with the humans while his mind still grasped at the emotional torture he found himself in.

And because of this torture, Ethan found himself pacing the length of the island over the past week, searching for some sense of comfort. He struggled with replacing his brother into a new category. His only living family member now the symbol of battle. Charles now bursting forth the power of Helios against the serene energies of Gaia in a warlike afront. Akakios losing his innocence and killing the love he felt toward his only relative and labeling him as an enemy. It took the passage of a week for Ethan to even realize this elementary turn: the dehumanizing gaze at an enemy which denounced all sense of morallity right before action.

"Charles has already labeled me as enemy..." he said to his friend, the butterfly, on the eighth morning after his return. "And I must do the same or be determined to have compassion.


The answer never came, but the Blue Morpho fluttered away as if saying I have no part in decisions apart from protecting Gaia.

Ethan sat alone, laying his head against a coconut tree swaying in the breeze, listening to the far off discussion of people tilling the earth to grow crops and the incessant giggling of children chasing butterflies. A gust of air came, and then came again making a nearly constant wind across the island surface.

Footsteps drew nearer.

"Edler Adair, may I sit with you?"

Ethan nodded.

Alexis sat slightly behind him, angled so she could look directly at his form without being too direct. "It is time for you to decide."

Time to decide, young one.

Ethan turned his head to look at Alexis.

You cannot wait any longer.

"We cannot wait any longer. Preparations must be made to further our survival and the restoration of the Earth." Alexis was calm, speaking slowly. There was practice in her voice, a script not common when heavy decisions were to be made. Ethan appreciated her attention to this speach. "I can only imagine your state right now, but Elder Sadhin's path has been decided upon and he will not change. Not now, at least. Thus, our concern must be for our ensured survival. Not against war, but against extinction."

Protect against my extinction.

"Without our guiding energies, the powers of the Mother will not penetrate the deteriorating forces of humankind's infamous bombs. All life will eventually follow the path of fire and billow away into the air." Alexis would not look away from Ethan's eyes, trying to draw him into the picture she wove of their stuation. "We know Elder Sadhin's plans won't create stability in the ecosystems --"

"He is harvesting the power of Helios," Ethan cut her off, his eyes lowering to look at a bare patch of dirt. "He is using the chaotic forces of the sun to rebuild his people."

Shock, as frequent as it was around Ethan recently, filled Alexis. "What?! That's impossible!?"

"No, it has never been impossible. Dangerous, yes, and more dangerous the less skilled a Sage is. But it always remains unpredictable. That's why I fear so much. That's why I'm having a hard time grasping where I stand." A ragged breath in. "Do I plan to eliminate a threat? Or do I try to dissuade it? Or do we prepare for constant defense? Should we find ways to overpower the forces of Helios? For which there are, but they're even more devestating if not handled properly."

Alexis swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I came to break you from your depression, but I never realized you were actually working things out. I figured you were trying to handle the sudden departure from your familial tie."

"You don't need to apologize, Alexis. I have kept myself apart because I needed to be alone for several reasons; that being one of them. I only just recently came to terms with our... new... relationship." Ethan looked out over the sea again, to the growingly familiar picture.

"What do you advise then?"

"Breaking Antoni from his solitude, first and foremost." Ethan placed his hands on the ground to stand up. As he rose he continued his thought, "And bring together the leaders of the humans with the Council of Gaia and come to decisions together. It is not something your nor I can decide alone. It is unfair."

Alexis stood with Ethan. "I have already called a gathering for tonight, at the break of night."

"Then I shall go speak with Ben and have his congress come meet with us in the sanctuary."


(Part 6 to be continued...)

When to Give In.

Inspiration comes and goes. I think everyone can agree with this, even if inspiration seems to hit you more often than others. You can be at work, mindlessly constructing meaningless objects for others to consume and suddenly a phrase uttered in exasperation can stir a thought process which carries a stream of pictures or scenes through your mind during the most inopportune time. Other times you can be sitting with pen and paper in hand, awaiting that inspiration until if finally comes and the words or pictures flow effortlessly onto the page. However lucky these moments may appear, they are fickle and elusive when you desire them most; when all your intention is to have that spark fire brilliantly and allow for the passion to overcome the world about and take the inner eye to a peaceful, beautiful, artistic, poetic place.

So, what happens if you can't acquire this inspiration, if it simply won't come even if that's all you intended to do. When do you give in?

Ultimately, I think I give in when my mood begins to go south. If I start to feel stressed about what I'm writing, then I stop, because I know it won't be up to my standards. It's healthier that way, and it keeps the aspect of interest and fun in the arenas which I work.

Earlier today, while I was at work, all I wanted to do was write. I had a story going, I had plans in my head, I knew exactly where I was going with words... And yet, when it came time to transcribe those thoughts into a tangible form, my brain turned off. I wish I could have given in while I was working and simply sat down and allowed myself to gush out every little bit of that moment onto paper. Perhaps that's the most frustrating part of it: the job which pays the bills which allow me to purchase writing utensils and operate on a computer is the same job that seemingly impedes my ability to follow my dream. Do I give in to the job then, to allow it to overwhelm the space in my mind where inspiration stirs and deny that freedom to the wandering voice.

I did that for four years; allowed my job to overtake my sense of aspiration in regards to my dreams. I had other aspirations with my career which had pierced its way into my mind and denied that ability of seeking, and it wasn't until I quit that the chains were unlocked and I could finish my first book. Have I allowed this process to begin again? The cycle overtaking my straightforward path toward being published? I hope not. I won't give in to that. I'll never give in to that.

Then why am I having this issue now? Where is the inspiration I had only a few hours ago? Perhaps it's in the energy I had, though that's never truly been an issue before (tiredness has always been a great facility for odd inspiration which seems to be so much more symbolic). Maybe I was overly stressed by the end of my shift and I haven't unwound yet. Then this little tangent of a blog should be able to unravel that feeling and release the flow of tears from a broken sky. We shall see...

Ultimately, my frustration is when to give in. When to give in to the barriers which seemingly build themselves without any construction process on a mental level? And are there methods to breaking them down? I gave in, just now, and allowed myself to run with random thoughts and produced a freeing experience which is now letting me find a new inspiration for things I've already thought about. Blah...

Sorry if this made no sense to you, but my mind is an odd place (as I hope everyone's is).

Friday, February 19, 2010

The Changed Earth (Part 5)

"So it comes to this." Antoni stated. His eyes would not meet Ethan's, shoulders relaxed below normal, hands hidden in his pockets.

"It's not you he's truly angry with, Antoni. Charles has always been short tempered, irrational... dark." Ethan reached his hand out to Antoni. He noticed, seemingly for the first time, how frail the fingers looked; skinny, delicate, weathered with swollen joints. His wrist, though he knew the true strength it possessed, appeared as firm as a sunflower stalk.

This compared to Antoni Eytinge: a force even without the gifts of Gaia. He stood six foot four with wide shoulders bulging with firm muscles. Though he obtained a slender figure, Antoni clearly was built for some physical sport or other. All of his clothes fit tight enough to reveal the subtle curves of his strength. Ethan felt a pang of jealousy as he realized how old his own body was becoming.

Antoni spoke after a few seconds "Do you think there will be a confrontation from Elder Sadhin?"

"That is what I will try to prevent, but I know Charles well enough to understand his motivations. I should be able to persuade him to a peaceful resolution."

"How do you know him?"

Ethan smiled. "A little secret, though i don't know why secrecy surrounds this tidbit of fact; he is my brother. Our father trained us both in the ways of Gaia's wisdom. Me first, since I was firstborn." Shrugging, Ethan removed his hand from Antoni's shoulder.

Antoni's eyes widened ever so slightly, though his composure remained relaxed and slightly dejected. "Then you are our best hope... and possibly our worst hope."

"Yes. This is very true."

"When are you due to meet?"

"Tomorrow at high noon, on the Hawaii Islands. Alone, of course." Ethan saw the worry which spanwed in his colleague. "Don't worry, my friend. Charles has never been stronger than me. Not in mind, not in body, or in power. And though our childhood bickering truly ended a few centuries ago, I don't pretend to think our thickheadednesses won't resurface in this argument." Ethan chuckled.

A memory surfaced, happy and warm. The Balkans, rich with greens, browns and the blue skies, came into focus. Ethan and his brother had been racing to the peak of one of the mountains. Starting early in the morning, having taken a walk off their land with their father, it came to a simple race. Charles wanted to beat his older brother Ethan and posed the race. Neither one could make it to the top and had resolved to walking together up the slope until they nearly reached it to restart their race. Their father was far behind, watching in his special way to make sure they were safe. Ethan knew he could appear if he needed to, and thus felt perfectly safe being so far away from him.

Let him win, a voice whispered, barely loud enough to stimulate Ethan's senses, but obviously present. Ethan knew, even then, to allow the voices of the Earth to guide him, though he knew not who might be speaking to him.

Charles won the race, however narrowly, and continued to taunt his older brother through his winded, bent over state. Ethan stood proud and smiling at his brother, breathing hard enough to show Charle's a possible weakness.

"May I ask a question, Elder Adair?" Antoni's voice cut through his reverie.

Ethan nodded, turning slightly to look toward the human's little town. "You may indeed."

Hesitation parted Anotni's lips. "How... old are you, Elder?"

"A question many people have been fearful to pose. I have forgotten the exact date of my birth, as time has changed throughout Earth's history. However, I know significant dates and peoples as a guide to determining my age when I must remember." Ethan turned back to Antoni and saw the worry which seemed to plague him. "Don't worry, I am not offended by the question. I am three thousand and approximately two hundred years old."

A gapping maw with eyes wider than tea-cup saucers greeted Ethan's words.

"You have to be... the... eldest of us. All of us..."

"Yes. On the Keeling Islands, I am the oldest. Possibly in the world, unless the few of my Elders made it to Antarctica, but I hold little hope."

Ethan slowly straightened his back and shoulders, closing his mouth and bringing his head to a more sensible posture, though his eyes still betrayed the sudden shock he received. "May I ask one more thing of you, Elder Adair?"

"Yes, Antoni."

"Will you mentor me?" He hastily tried to rephrase his question. "I mean... Give me advice and help to expand my abilities? Take me under your wing to really master my potential? I feel there is so much to learn from you now; about the world, about humanity, about myself and the abilities that I harbor."

A warmth filled Ethan's face. "Certainly, I will be here for you in any way I can." The smile which radiated was joyful, even with the upcoming events that loomed like the darkness which follows twilight.

Antoni broke through his speechless barrier. "Thank you!" and bowed.

Night fell quickly.

Meditating to conserve energy, allowing the sanctuary built so skillfully by Alexis and Gaia Herself to penetrate his being and provide more insight and liveliness, Ethan searched. It was hard to know exactly what he sought for his mind seemed to wander even when a path opened before him.

At first, his brother Charles filled his mind. Their history together was full until there paths separated them indefinitely during the early nineteenth century. But these thoughts didn't keep Ethan's mind clear and soon the images of the Church filled his mind. Realizations of what was lost became extraordinarily clear once more. The beauty of religious institutions worldwide as art, gifts to man in their aspirations of faith; one seemingly vital aspect of human culture given back to the earth from which it was harvested. This brought Ethan's mind around to the growth of the six hundred humans he now rested with, wondering if they were headed to a new religion. Voices had spoken out against the trust they still had in one supreme being. After all, where there experiences not similar to the last chapter of their holy book? And if so, where were the chariots and horsemen so promised through prophecy?

Ethan's vigilance did not enlighten their thoughts to the actual outcome still ahead of them. The mystical writings, for which he had influence so many ages ago, had long lost their symbolic references to the grand scheme of the universe as human culture developed. And now, even his physical references were lost to sand, to dust blowing around his haven on the small island in the middle of a vast ocean. An ocean which may still harbor the stirrings of primordial life despite the havoc which demolished all land based life, save the fortunate few that now camped in two pockets of the Earth.

Blue wings fluttered in his mind's eye. Flashing open, bright as the deepest blue in the sky after a summer rain in the afternoon. Closing to blackness which surrounded the hope of being. Open to the depths of the ocean, capturing the beauty of Helios' light. Close to the darkness of underground tunnels traveling below the frozen north-lands of Svalbard. Flash of life regrowing in fertile soil. Dark of the seed germinating in soil.

The answer I have erased from his mind, for he will not see the precision of the necessary course laid before survival.

"Thank you, Mother."

It is time. Be wary of your steps on soil seemingly untouched.

And the world dropped out from beneath Ethan, the familiar tugging sensation pulling through him as he traveled through the Earth, merging temporarily with Gaia as the heat of the core surrounded his fragile being.

Sunlight greeted him as he arrived, still seated, on the small Hawaiian island of Ni'ihau. The eerie calls of tropical birds echoed between the thick fauna which grew in an otherwise quiet paradise. Droplets fell in syncopated cadences, evidence of a recent rain shower that must now be over the Pacific. Opening his eyes, Ethan saw the flawless morsel of flourishing paradise that seemed unscathed by way, despite his knowledge of a nearby bombing which should have destroyed this vision barely a week prior.

He was not fooled.

"It's nice to know this is possible, isn't?" a voice came from somewhere behind Ethan.

Standing, Ethan's response came in a carefully measured voice, not wanting to provoke any hostility from the start. "This is beautiful, and a dream meant to inspire even the most war battered heart."

"Paradise, as the humans see it." Charles stepped up next to Ethan, still looking out through the trees and shrubbery which filled their vision. They were both silent as they appreciated the vision Charles had provided his older brother as a sort of reunion gift.

Once he was able to regard his younger brother again, Ethan realized how similar they had looked. Both were skinny and slightly stooped in the shoulders, though still owning their stature or authority which time had provided them. The grey hair was long enough to flow around their faces and wisp in the gentle breezes. Noses slightly round at the end, eyes greying with the remnants of azure glinting when the sun hit properly. The difference came in subtle lines around their eyes: Charles' creases furrowing above his brow as Ethan's stretched from his eyes along his cheek bones, Ethan's thinning lips slightly curved upwards as Charles' stretched downward.

Charles spoke again first. "Ah, but it seems my gift is short lived, and business has come to a head, has it not Diodoros?"

The use of Ethan's birthname came as a surprise. The mantle of their society was being thrown off forcefully, and a new set of rules was quickly taking its place. Ethan would have to be careful. "Yes, indeed it has Akakios."

"Then I shall get straight to the ultimate goal," Charles stated as he turned to face his older brother directly. "I want Antoni Eytinge to pay for his betrayal of Gaia."

"And to the point you are." Ethan began to walk, knowing his brother would follow an ancient custom of their people. "But I fear we have two different opinions of the events which have transpired."

Feeling, more than hearing, Ethan knew Charles shook his head. "It is quite simple. Antoni was vested with the trust of our people to ensure humanity would not destroy its self."

"Are we not all entrusted with this task? And therefore who is truly to blame?"

"Diodoros, please." He matched Ethan's pace, trying to take a step ahead as they walked through the greenery. "We both know Antoni was given his task to create a treaty of sorts before things got out of hand. He failed, and I believe the intention to fail was present in his actions. We have gifts beyond human reckoning at our desposal, and he had every opportunity to manipulate the circumstances and choose to neglect them."

"It is not our place to manipulate the actions of humans." Ethan would not let him lead, and took a turn to the right around a slightly thicker collection of trees.

Charles couldn't argue directly with a law clearly specified in they code of ethics. "Someone must be held accountable. Rule must be set into Law, written and known with clear penalties for the criminal."

"Is that how you have set up your civilization, Akakios?" Ethan asked before he could filter himself. The nerve was hit.

Charles voice seethed. "It is my right to govern as I see fit now. Gaia has no say in our actions. And I am answering to a more powerful force."

This could mean only one thing. "There has always been danger in that, you know. Father was specific about the circumstances which can come from working with Helios' energies."

"It was done by those before us, and I shall resurrect its calling." Charles had stopped walking, standing with his feet firmly planted, hands reaching at acute angles from his sides, indicating the scenery. "This is His work, his power, and it will reign indefinitely upon Gaia when we have quieted the earth and put humanity in its place." His smirk seemed sunburnt. "Superiority ruling and defending the inferior."

"History does not favor dictatorships when the oppressed become numerous and gilted."

You will not win this. The skies brightness is fortitude to Helios.

Charles lowered his hands and glared at Ethan. "It seems determined we shall not agree today, brother."

"But we must come to some understanding."

"Oh there is understanding. You understand more than any of your Council could ever. You know me, Diodoros, and have known me for three mellennia." He turned, and as his eyes fell upon the distances beyond the foliage, the illusion began to dispurse, revealing a blackened island surrounded by grey waters lapping on the ash laden beach. "You know I will stop at nothing to reclaim this planet and bring it to perfection, with a new law of nature governing over the ones who destroyed it. Technology will go as far as I allow it. Information will be dispersed as I see fit. Knowledge will be conditional, and only the worthy shall wear our mantle." Turning back to look into Ethan's eyes, attempting to appear compassionate, Charles said, "And I do not want to lose my brother in this new world.

"I am willing to welcome any among your survivors who wish to follow my lead to Eden. But reprimand must be made."

Ethan stayed calm, even with panic constricting his chest. There was only one option left to him, and he dared not take the first move to its end. "I cannot follow this vision of yours. It goes against the code. You know it."

Charles did not speak. Their eyes remained locked, but a different sense formed between them: hot, bright, fiery.

Without thinking, Ethan constructed a protection around him, unwilling to make a more aggressive defense against his brother just yet. A fire formed in the air, expanding towards Ethan.

"Don't do this, Akakios," he shouted above the sound of the growing flames.

"It is done. Nearly done." And then Charles whispered, "It must be done."

As the fire exploded and raced toward Ethan, rock protruded up from the blacked ground.

The face of the Earth is changing.

Gaia's hand surrounded Ethan in a clumpy mass of dirt, and the tug pulled him through Her body, her spirit, her hurt. Arriving in the sanctuary once more, Ethan allowed himself to finally feel the pain of his brother's turn. Tears poured down his face, blinding him to the familiar faces which suddenly swam to support his body as he sagged to the soft grass.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Favorite Dido Song: Sand In My Shoes

Two weeks away feels like the whole world should've changed
But I'm home now, and things still look the same.
I think I'll leave it till tomorrow to unpack
Try to forget for one more night that I'm back in my flat
On the road where cars never stop going through the night
To a life where I can't watch the sunset,
I don't have time.
I don't have time.

I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you
I should get on, forget you, but why would I want to
I know we said goodbye
Anything else would've been confused but
I want to see you again.
I want to see you again.

Tomorrow's back to work and down to sanity
Should run a bath and then clean up the mess I left before I left here
Try to remind myself that I was happy here
Before I knew that I could get on a plane and fly away
From the road where the cars never stop going through the night
To a life where I can watch the sunset
And take my time,
Take all our time.

I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you
I should get on, forget you, but why would I want to
I know we said goodbye,
Anything else would've been confused but
I want to see you again.
I want to see you again.

Two weeks away, all it takes
To change and turn me around
I've fallen
I walked away, and never said
That I wanted to see you

I've still got sand in my shoes
And I can't shake the thought of you
I should get on, forget you, but why would I want to
I know we said goodbye,
Anything else would've been confused but
I want to see you again.
I want to see you again.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE this song! For a long time, this was my theme song. Life was so stressful, so full, so changing that I clung to this song like a rock in a sea of rough waters. Thus I share with the rest of you! It's wonderfully melodic and peaceful, yet longing for a life that seems lost and for someone or something that can't be had. Shouldn't be had, but always wanted regardless. Sand is significant for representing time and being an irritant that reminds one constantly of the past. Wonderful!

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The Changed Earth (Part 4)

Through eyelids stained red by the warmth of the sunlight, Ethan saw the shadow of a slender person step over him; hearing the body sit next to his head in a muted rustling of fabric. Allowing his senses to expand along the flow of life on the tiny island, Ethan started to know his visitor. He immediately realized Alexis sat patiently with news eating away at her quiet reserves. Worrisome news, information she could not divulge to anyone except her mentor, the only person she trusted anymore. Ethan's curiosity blossomed in his energy causing Alexis to stir slightly, dropping her hand to the grass and feeling her way into Ethan's thoughts.

Eyes opening gingerly against the sun's light filtering through the pink shield holding back deadly fumes, Ethan raised himself to a sitting position, keeping his back turned to his former student. The beach and sea greeted him, putting a vision to the soft cadence of waves pushing against sand. Three days of constant debate, it seemed, with the human's new congress brought a great appreciation for peaceful moments alone. However, this moment was over, and Ethan knew subconsciously he would never come to this spot for comfort again. The Eastern Sea was now an ominous scape to regard, even before Alexis' news could be heard.

"What is it you have come to tell me?" Ethan asked quietly.

"I have discovered something that Gaia has left obscured for quite some time now." She stopped to allow the gravity of the statement to sink in. "I believe I only came across this information on accident as my mind wandered while meditating."

Ethan kept looking out over the sea. The white capped crests of the larger waves drew his attention farther out; the white an odd shade against the backdrop of charred smoke. Such a small glimmer of purity upon the vast flowing body carrying the sands to their resting places.

Alexis hesitated. "There is another group of survivors."

Excitement did not enter Ethan's heart. Only questions. Why is Alexis worried about this? Why had the Mother kept this from Alexis and the others? Why hasn't there been communication between the two groups?

Most importantly, What does this mean for our group of survivors?

I had those same questions when I stumbled upon this information," Alexis said with a shaky voice. "They were quickly answered for me."

Ethan turned to regard his colleague, breaking the final bond with the Eastern Sea. "She answered these questions?"

"Yes, Elder. She answered as soon as I wondered."

"And this is why you've come to me first?"


"Then we must gather the council and discuss this together." His voice was measured, for he saw the worry in Alexis' eyes.

Tears welled and her head dropped to cover her fear. Brown hair obscured her angular face, still youthful despite her age. "I need to plan before we can convene. Gaia is fearful for us, fearful for the survival of life on Earth. I agree wholeheartedly with her now."

"Tell me..." Ethan waited before pressing a little more firmly. "Tell me everything."

She revealed her enlightenment to a more complex world than either Ethan or Alexis had envisioned possible after the recent circumstances.

The other survivors had escaped to Antarctica, using the natural separation of the great island as part of their defenses against the onslaught of devastation. They had transformed the landscape to better suit human sustainability and had nearly three thousand survivors. However, the number of sages was quite smaller: only six ensuring the survival of their contingent of life. The most heartbreaking revelation was the anger.

Charles Sadhin led the group, and his blame centered around Antoni Eytinge's failure to secure peace. Somehow, Charles had decided Antoni was the force that started the war, somehow concluding Antoni wanted the world to start anew with a different set of standards and beliefs. Fostering this misinformation, Charles persuaded five others to his cause as soon as the war started and they evacuated as many humans as they could gather to Antarctica. Once situated, they began planning for their superiority and survival on Earth. They had knowledge of Ethan's group, knew the intricacies of their structure of life and figured they had time to plan a civilation separate and apart.

However, Ethan knew beyond a doubt, that Charles' longterm goal was to illiminate Antoni and anyone who might harbor similar feelings towards Antoni's ideal culture and goals. Charles prefered dictatorships, and had formed one centering his absolute rule over his civilization. He would therefore not tolerate interference from another and would do anything to destroy another way of life, for he thought his was best. Ethan was familiar with Charles becaue they were mentored by the same person around the same time; Charles a little after Ethan.

"If he starts training more Sages, he will outnumber us very soon and may declare war on Elder Eytinge."

Ethan shook his head. "There is no doubt of that. He already has declared war in his mind, though I doubt he has told anyone about it yet." Looking down, mind racing, Ethan took a deep breath. Should they build different defenses or should they consider moving and concealing themselves from Charles' abilities. Ethan could do this for their group; but anywhere else they went would be chaos. They were lucky to find an island unscathed by the war and would be hard pressed to quickly find or create such a haven again. "We cannot keep this from the Council. If you are to lead us, I will speak for your cause as leader. Now that I have the trust and ear of the humans, they will be ready to listen to my justifications for you to lead. There will be dissent, but that will be dealt with quickly." He looked back into her eyes. "What do you see that we need to do."

Her answer came quickly, as her decisions usually did. "We cannot leave this place, but we must continue with preparing Earth for habitation regardless of Elder Sadhin's plans. However, we must prepare defenses and a possible army. Ask humans to be trained quickly and in masses, if need be. The gifts of Gaia will not tolerate war right now, so we must always be ready to defend, not attack."

"I agree."

Alexis took a deep breath. "I must communicate with Elder Sadhin and try to calm his temper."

"I am not sure you are the best one to do this. No offense meant... I am his superior, by however short a span, but I shall reason with him, if he shall be reasoned with." Ethan prepared to stand.

"Gaia doesn't think he can be reasoned with," Alexis said while standing, reaching out to help Ethan raise off the ground.

Taking her hand, Ethan pulled himself straight. "But it must be done." A moment later, their eyes locked and an understanding passing between which Ethan voiced suddenly. "And must be done in person."

The slightest of nods, barely perceptible, greeted this statement. Alexis said, "I shall gather the Council so we may discuss this and forge ahead."

Alexis released Ethan's hand and bowed. Shoulders relaxing as she turned, her breath leaving in a quiet sob of discomfort, Alexis walked away slowly, heading towards the sanctuary a short distance away. Ethan watched, feeling the breeze shift from east to west. The smell of the sea changed, becoming more salty than earthy, hampered instead of fresh. Stalks of green grass swayed violently, peacefully waving hello to a new set of conditions by which the world played.

The face of the Earth is changing.

"But why is it so? Why must we struggle like this?"

The face of the Earth is changing. I am the Earth. You are the change and its face. Is this not humanity?

Ethan wanted to argue, and could only understand. "But humanity desires peace."

How can it desire something for which there is no opposite?

"But now is not the time for dichotomy! Now is the time for rebuilding, for connectedness, for collective understanding!"

There came no response. Ethan sat down again, suddenly too exhausted to keep his legs under him. Pain spread through his chest, constricted his throat, filled his ears. "Brother," he whispered to himself, "when will we stop fighting each other?"

A Quick Glance of a Sign.

"Truth Is! Lies Have to be Made Up."

An interesting sign, to say the least. It drives home a point which people feel universal and meaningful, on a deeper sense. We, as humanity, strive for truth. We want to know that what we know is the absolute, the right, the incontestable. But I have to laugh, slightly, at the location of this delicious sign. A church of a faith that possibly surfaced a mere six hundred years ago. This is the truth they wish to convey. A truth, I'm sure, they will use to define the lies of other faiths; by which they will then justify their interpretation of a book created by man.

Now there's a sticky subject, and forgive me for saying these things which may incur a sense of offense. I am merely bringing up facts. This book was written in ages past. Written by Man. Not just one man from one point of view where a higher powered being supplemented its thoughts into this one man, but written through the voices of many men throughout a vast period of time. Each time they wrote, they invoked the opinion of what this high power bestowed upon them: Stories, Myths, Abstract Laws, etc. So then...was this book then not "Made Up"? Therefore the very premise that this "Truth" is the one and only through the "Made Up" interpretations of dead-guys we can't communicate with is somewhat contradictory. Ah, how language has betrayed us.

And another point: Language. Is language not "made up", and do we not use language to define the very world around us through definitions and interpretations constructed by the very words which were created by man? Therefore, language must be a lie; and so must everything else that man has built: music, culture, politics, buildings, breeding, standards, clothing... the list goes on. I feel this also proves the fallibility of this book many hold so dear. It is constructed of everything man has made, and there isn't physical proof of its existence beyond our plain of existence. "Truth Is! Lies Have to be Made Up."

And perhaps I'm over analyzing a sign meant to inspire people; but isn't the job of marketing people to think of these aspects as thoroughly as a person who drives by and sees the sign twice a day for 20 seconds total, in the hopes of attracting new worshipers to their religion. I digress. I shall leave the rest of the thought process to your discretion...

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

The Essence of the Universe (Part 1)

In the quiet of itself,
the nether of its being,
the claustrophobic void of which
it is
the Essence thought.
At peace with
the silence after eternity thus far,
finding it impossible to remember
anything before anything and
wondering if
anything truly was

the Essence thought and dreamed;
the creativity and knowledge obtained
by being and knowing but perhaps
never experiencing,
or experienced
such longtimes ago forgotten
now a source
of comfort.

A rumbling,
majestic and beautiful came
from within and without
the Essence,
building harmony in sound and
light, a cacophony from
a bang
from nothing wrought
the light and beauty of
its self
filled the silent nether

And of this naught, in its light,
the jewels glistened into being.
Darkness was no more and the
Essence wandered
through these littered expanses of
its mind.
Wondering, Pondering, until boredom
overcame the thrill of distance.

Here, as oft it did, or never had,
a reflection of its mind the
Essence saw
and it fell into awe once more:
An eternity within an eternity,
the infinite expanse within the
infinite expanse
one mind within a mind.
Thus, reality formed
And the Essence became all,
And nothing,
and more.

The realization of self came surprisingly,
as a nova blows and flashes and
the Essence now birthed, perhaps
again, or never,
and found the expanses of expanses
quantifying the moments of there
to here with none but it to know.

Bright Rain of the West

Great Star of limitless flight
to Westward lands ever sought
in aspirations you hope
for perfections to obtain
in wilds untouched, unscathed by
man's harsh mind and love of own.
Light rain, dark rain protect the

Heart which Westward lands hold lost,
not understandable when
roots still thrive and voices sing
of remembered travelers
who might be gone past vail of
rain, oh light and dark, and hold
the view so far away. Even if

seen, the view retold, others
never shall know the beauty
of it, nor terror to have;
shall only hold the sight of
light rain, dark rain falling soft
before the mountainous black
constantly aiding the ill

to thrive where Great Star and Bright
Moon inspire the faithful to
love the valiant and seek
the garden where the fruit does
grow and save the possible
of knowledge and ever-life
once consumed by thoughtful hands.

Dark rain, light rain; spiteful sight,
deep within the heavy chest
laden hard with sorrowful
cries whom rack the memories
of footsteps washed away by
sodden sky, fast harsh Wind of
unrelenting forceful air.

Nightly words to Westward lands,
in hopes the sound can hear in
beats of rhythmic tones by blood;
to pray, to sleep, mournful rain,
falls dark and light upon graves,
prevent the thoughts beyond true
growth, stagnation sitting bold

and stubborn, like memory
rising in the feel of heart.
Bright Moon, silver mother change,
hold sway of the darker sky,
and shift the night to the stars
which break and bring close throughout
dark rain, light rain of today.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentine's Day

It's true today invokes the need to share love and desire with another, and therefore brings more resentful and callous emotions where necessity and loneliness bore into the longing for joy, but people who understand beyond this fictional holiday have the opportunity to succeed in appreciating attempts made to stimulate love, happiness, and the economy (dare I even mention).

St. Valentine was murdered for rebelling against the church and marrying soldiers to their beloveds. This is where we find the roots of this ceremony, is it not? Though Saint-hood, in the Catholic tradition, requires the practice of three miracles, somehow Valentine (I'm not sure what his Italian/Roman name actually was, but we all know of St. Valentine so we'll stick with that) achieved this title and thus we know him as a martyr who stood against the Catholic Church and the Holy Roman Empire. A man who stood for love, who thought the laws of the church were oppressing the rights of love in the arena of marriage. But then again, the idea of marriage in Valentine's day was not necessarily about love... But maybe he was overcoming that stigma as well. I can't say for sure.

Regardless, the modern day Valentine's Day is based of a Hallmark tradition started within the last century, correct? A method in which to force women into making men feel guilty for not celebrating the day of love. Make men feel guilty and they'll buy lots of chocolates and cards and take their woman to a nice restaurant or buy food to make a fancy meal at home. Maybe they'll make babies that night and stimulate the medical economy (or create more debt which must be repaid overtime ensuring the continued success of the medical field). But the contemporary idea of V-Day is seemingly negative because of its origin.

I would like to propose that people neglect the card giving, the chocolate buying, and the need to take our loved ones out to a fancy restaurant (though who doesn't like a nice French/Italian/Expensive meal?). Lets realign the intentions of this day so it truly symbolizes the appreciation of love, either amongst friendship, family, or significant others. And since this Valentine's Day has landed on a new moon, as a symbol for new beginnings, I think it is the perfect opportunity to foster this new habit.

Here's to love! Now take a sip of your cocktail, grab someone, kiss them, and tell them you love them!

He Smiles

He smiles.

A light in the corner is lit,
revealing the fearful shadows as
hauntings imagined through
scars healed by sand.

A troubling heap has passed,
and the smile turns the glass
freshening the fall to bring
those butterflies so suddenly.

He smiles. Oh, he smiles.

Weather so white and windy,
where the effort of flames
begrudge their shortcomings to
warm the inner heart alone,

melts the springtime roses where once
the ground lay wasted and
rough with grief; loss grown
in shrubs of thorns to bleed.

But he smiles

before me, eyes glittering
with something of desire. I
hold the moment so dear and true,
warming me as the sun rises.

Though tumults twisting my stomach,
I feel reborn to this life,
rosy cheeks heating the air
and words faltering against giggles.

I smile.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

In Memory

The subtle sound of falling water echoes through the trees, softly singing a charm of remembrance like a ghostly whisper. Eyes burning with held-back tears, I step wearily down the trodden path with trees as my only guide. Clear air filling my nostrils seems to poison my thoughts: How beautiful today is. Everything feels so ali-

But even that isn't true. Slowing the clop of my sandals brings ill wanted thoughts, seeping over the whole of my senses. Suddenly, my shirt feels small, chest constricting breath comes in short shallow gasps. A thump between my lungs beats harder, faster, violently reaching for a pain long sundered far bellow all memories. Rushing, like tsunami on a mountain island, ripping off the trees, tears flood down my face; so hot, a contrast to the cool autumn air.

Don't think about it!

Looking up into the canopy, the colored leaves at zenith shuffle carelessly. Greens, reds, death. Life must follow that track. The march, like this walk, to a painful, screaming, convulsing sleep.


The forest stopped moving a while ago. The clop no longer sounding the directionless path. Staccato patter striking the brush causes the tormenting flashback. I walk again, picking a pace much faster than before; a breeze rushes through the audience of trees, rustling the leaves which shed their rain.

The sermon, a sob.

I turn left.

My family across the aisle. A widow, drenched in sorrow. The mother in disarray, weeping to a lost soul. The brothers whose tears I've never seen.

I turn right. The vision won't leave.

Why? Why? "WHY?" The trees don't respond.

I'm not sitting with that family, comforting each other with their hugs and tears. The pieces of me are forced together with marvelous composure, sitting silent, scorning the tears that cross my face.

The forest offers little stability, each trunk bending away as my hand attempts to grab a hold of some solidity. Heat touches my cheeks again, distracting the thoughts for mere seconds. All mobility is lost in that moment, strength gives way to the sadness depressed farther than I could imagine.

A sandal is ripped from my foot, the pain of such action reaping to my brain.

Apart again, standing as bearer to that form we've cherished; the family taking their turns at goodbye. A Daughter, so young, knows not the man she's lost. Another, not sure of herself, contains the strange emotions. The second Daughter falls like me, limp over the casket, healing tears falling hopelessly to the ground. The First in shock, detached fear: lost in darkness, stepping into some form of comfort. Last, the Wife, the Widow; the one who saw it all, who faced fear and shock and death. The tears never stopped, even while she talked to him, saying a goodbye heard only by her and her husband.

The myriad of trees watched in silence. I was one of them, standing and crying, shedding my leaves while erect in fortitude against the sorrow overwhelming the time. Autumn in summer, the goodbye which shouldn't have happened. All I got was observation: the family; my family, the body, the casket, the ground and the hundreds of people he touched.

An already wet hand draws its cold touch across my face, waking me from myself. Attempting to return to my walk sends shivers everywhere. My sandal was lost somewhere behind me, yet I still searched for its protecting comfort. The clean air warms amongst the forest, the rain trickling away. I stumble back the way which feels easy, searching endlessly for the path.

Hours had past within moments. The path was where I left though: stepped aside beyond my sight. The wet asphalt, darkened by the rain, welcomes me onto its surface; clad in a slimy sandal, muddy pants, sticky shirt. The world about is beyond my sight now...all that remains are my limping strides, the known way home; and one sandal.

A weak smile graces my face.

At least I have one.

A speck of light glints to the right, weaving between the trees. Turning to watch it, examine the source closer, it disappears down the path. Beams of light fall from the canopy, casting greens and yellows across each other. The light flashed down the trail, drawing my desire, inspiring hope. Air fills my lungs, forcing the feeling of life beneath my flesh.

Why not? It is beautiful today. It wouldn't be fair to him to not...

Placing a bare foot forward, my life continues. The remaining drops fall idly to the ground, reviving the noise so naturla to a wood like these. A breeze, warm to the touch, guides me down the path, calmly whispering of love.

"I love you too..."

What Is Held Amongst Friends

Subtle breath holding weight of the soul
slips out beyond the concealing lips, soft flesh
holding back the jagged cliffs dripping to
consume the morsel twisting for freedom.
Revealing tears the seal concealing notice
within a world perceived secure sans
adversity. Gauze over a wound gushing its
tears in violent rivers of red, beneath the
armor of fashion; No pressure alleviates
the doubt of actions past, when knife trembles
in mind. The seam sought quickly
bursts despite its resolve, and a newness
replaces the cracks in the surface.
Trees thrusting past the mantle to stand
honest and steadfast, realizing its own truth
by breathing softly and allowing the
subtle breath holding weight of the soul
to slip out beyond the concealing lips.

Silent Observation

It's quiet.

The music overcoming the conversing individuals while the oven's fan whirs in a constant cadence without release. Steaming milk bursts through the air like sonic booms and the grinding blades crushing the coffee beans numbs the inner ear. Even the muffled thud of the refrigerators opening and closing is part of the gentle atmosphere. Cars speeding past, honking their horns at the start of rush hour, penetrate the cell phone chatter of the tech-savvy businessmen.\

It's quiet.

Sitting in a chair alone by the window is a writer, quickly jotting down the words to some inexplicable rambling overwhelming his mind. Neither happy nor sad, his face gazes endlessly at the black on white as it spreads in indecipherable scribbles. His head rests awkwardly in hand, legs crossed, back bent in a gentle arc over the table, all the while holding no perception of the environment around him.

It's quiet.

The breeze rustles a lonely tree standing over dead grass; naked against the twilight. No one appreciates its uniqueness, its sorrow, its sleep. They walk past with no acknowledgment of the possibilities which grow slowly before the concrete paths. Germinating over the ages to fulfill the bounty nature has ensured despite the toxic humans' manipulating its breath. But now it rests; a symbol for eternity of regardless destinations in constant lives.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Changed Earth (Part 3)

"I feel like I came into this easily enough. My mentor was Antoni. He was easy, I suppose."

"Do you think you're ready to take on a pupil yet? How long has it been since you finished with Antoni?"

A pause. "It's been about three years, but I know I'm not ready. I'm too young to take on a pupil."

The female's laughter finally brought Ethan out of his slumber fully. With his eyes still closed he allowed his mind to feel the energies around him. Much was understood.

"I took my first pupil merely two years after I was finished training," the woman said to the young man.

Energy blasted across the land, penetrating the sanctuary Alexis had constructed with the help of the Mother. Helios was in the morning sky, bright and unhampered by clouds. His last pupil was certainly using everything he had taught her to protect the survivors of this abominable war. The sun's energy felt warm and mingled with the energies within the sanctuary to provide a warmth that penetrated through his soul.

The young man answered somewhat dejectedly, leaving the impression he was ashamed that he didn't want to take on a pupil yet. "I don't know... I want to make sure I know what I have to teach before I start corrupting someone else."

Ethan spoke loud enough for them to hear, "If corruption is how you feel about the gifts Gaia has bestowed upon you, then perhaps you should return the energies so She can heal Herself from these devastating circumstances we find ourselves in." He felt their alarm like bullets lodging in a bullet proof vest. Sitting up, he opened his eyes and looked at the other two who sat on the grass about ten yards away. They sat like shocked mice, ready to flee but too afraid to move.

The young man bowed his head. "I'm sorry Elder. I didn't mean it like that." He looked towards his female companion, who Ethan realized was Sarah, a pupil of his from about five hundred years ago. "It's just," he stumbled, "you know, it displaces your life so thoroughly and I don't want to... I'm not ready to leave that behind, much less take someone away from the reality of human civilization."

Ethan moved closer to them, massaging his joints as he stood and seated himself in a triangle with Sarah and the young man. "As we know of it now, human civilization is about six hundred strong. We have a duty to perform which may require you to take one of our survivors away from this reality and bring them to Gaia's power."

"I... realize that. I was speaking about how I felt before this mess." He looked away from the two Elders. "I don't want to think about what we've lost."

Sarah interjected before Ethan could say anything further. "What you've lost, Marc." She reached out and grabbed his hand gently. "We all have to come to terms with our losses before we can lead. It is a requirement in order to work with the Mother and succeed."

Ethan saw a tear run down Marc's youthful face, and suddenly he looked much older than he seemed. "Alexis was probably the first one of us to come to a sense of completion with her losses," Ethan declared in a soft voice.

"You did not, Elder Adair?" Marc asked, fighting the constriction that came with his fears.

Ethan smiled, knowing the magic Marc had just worked to get his name. He was obviously well trained to know and understand his surroundings. "No, I did not. I allowed my hopelessness to overwhelm me. If it wasn't for Alexis' searching, her focused mind, I would probably be left under a tree, burning down to a mass of dust indistinguishable from the earth I sat upon."

Sarah squeezed Marc's hand. "I know your turmoil, as everyone here certainly does. Go, be with nature, listen to Gaia and Helios and allow your emotions to mature however they will. Only then will you be able to move with them toward fully helping rebuild our home."

Turning back toward Sarah and Ethan, Marc tried his best at a half smile, and then stood. "Thank you both." Bowing, he turned to look at Ethan alone. "If I may be so bold as to request a private audience with you later, Elder Adair, I would be most honored."

The sudden formailty startled Ethan. "Thus it is granted. I shall find you when the time is suitable."

"Thank you." And with this, Marc turned and left through a northern exit from the sanctuary and walked out into the beautiful sunlight.

As Marc left, Ethan was able to look around and appreciate the beauty of the grove. Vast green leaves composed the canopy, and they transmitted the light of the sun in beautiful greenish hues like glittering fireflies resting on the underside of the wide leaves. The whole thicket was enriched by the shimmering light which fell in rays to the beautiful forest floor: stalks for grass growing in clusters between bushes and shrubs, a few squirrels scurrying from shelter to trees, the calls of birds through the warm and humid air, and the smell of rain on the horizon drifting through the trunks of the protecting trees. A blue butterfly flew past the opening Marc used.

Ethan smiled.

"Elder, it is a great pleasure to know you're with us." Gratitude saturated Sarah's words.

Regarding her, Ethan stated, "Human forces will be the last which will overcome me, Sarah. But I appreciate your concern and love."

"It has been too long since we've talked, and I fear everything I would have said is now made irrelevant."

"I agree." Ethan didn't bring up her family for fear of stirring a deep sorrow he sensed within her. "She is with us now, though, and we will move forward in spite of the monstrosities."

Sarah sighed. "Yes, indeed we will." Ethan watched her stand gingerly, evidence of her extended stay on the forest floor. "Alexis has called a meeting at high noon here. She wished me to inform you that three more have arrived with a small contingency of humans. They brought some technological devices and food stores."

"Antoni was among one of the three, was he not? He has always been foolhardy in order to secure supplies in the face of disasters."

A wide smile greeted his guess. "You know us all too well."

"I trained most of you." They laughed and warmed their hearts even more. "Thank you for letting me know. I suppose food is with the humans now?"

Nodding, Sarah said, "They insisted on protecting that supply. There is a feeling of inadequacy and they are trying to assert their authority in whichever way they can. Alexis is a very good diplomat. She's allocated quite a few responsibilities and governing powers to the humans."

"Something I would have done. I'm surprised she went down that track."

Sarah gave a sharp chuckle. "I had to talk her into it. A few of the humans are a little head strong and will certainly claim authority even if it requires rebellion against us."

Ethan stood. "We can't have that. They need to understand that we must work together. That is the only way to get society back, to reclaim the Earth as our home." Shaking his head, Ethan dropped the subject. "Shall we go eat?"

Leaving the sanctuary behind was difficult. As soon as they shifted into the ocean air without the protective shielding around the grove, Ethan felt the panic and anxiety that flourished in the air. The sun refracted off the enormous shield Alexis had built, leaving a pinkish hue transposed on the blue sky. Everywhere around this giant haven on the Cocos Islands was black and gray billowing violently. He could only imagine what it would look like from outer space: a world covered in black, gray, and white clouds trying desperately to find a place to escape to. On that orb would be a small pink speck of an island just west of where Australia should be. A pink speck of hope.

The small lunch was flavorful, thanks to Antoni's contingent. He had secured a lot of food over the ages in a protected vault magically enhanced to stop time for whatever was placed within. When the threat of warfare became imminent, Antoni had taken the initiative to stockpile as much as he could get his hands on, sometimes ethically. Ethan commended him on his foresight.

Noon came quickly, the time lost amongst conversations so light and airy that most of the world could be forgotten. At least, the issues which plagued every aspect of their conscious thoughts could be overlaid by a moment of happiness. Many of the humans who had survived had gathered with them and tried to interject their voice with the Sages. Ethan quickly learned that almost all of the six hundred or so humans had started figuring out their own political hierarchy a short distance to the north where Alexis had extended the land and created buildings made of foliage and trees for them to live in peacefully. There was fear and doubt directed at the Sages, and theories of recent events were quickly being turned into mythology and fiction about the Sages' involvement in the war. Speculations circled around their ability to survive and know when to start protecting themselves; and if the Sages knew to protect themselves, they knew when the war would start, and wouldn't that mean they started the war or could have prevented it?

Ethan would see to it personally to speak with them and dispel this train of thought. He had the most experience in this arena and would volunteer for the task at their meeting.

Back inside the sanctuary, Alexis gathered everyone into a circle around her and sat down in the center. Her technique was beautiful, and Ethan couldn't help but feel a little pride in how he had taught her. She recognized her authority amongst her people, but she knew that they would not respect her for standing superior to them. Knowing she wasn't the most powerful, the oldest, the wisest nor the most innovative, Alexis couldn't stand apart and unique. Ethan feared that this small order of twenty-one would force him to stand there in the center. Ethan feared Alexis would ask for this.

When Alexis started speaking, the forest became mute. Everything silenced to hear her words. Her simple words. The words which filled with the essence of Gaia.

"The face of the Earth is changing. We are now that change. We are vested, as we have always been, with the trust of the Mother to progress the Earth toward a harmonious life." Three of the Sages, the youngest, shook their heads. "Humanity stepped beyond our influences and took action without our wisdom. This is not a failure to place blame upon ourselves or human civilization. We have to own our circumstances and rebuild.

"This is going to be hard, but we are strong. I do not feign leadership amongst us, as Alexis Badeau. I am merely connected with Gaia in such a strong way currently, and She wishes me to commence these actions with the twenty-one of us." She looked around in silence, looking into each of the twenty faces staring vehemently. "We start now, as the Council of Gaia, as we shall be known to the humans. We must usher hope and direction to their cause, and once we reinstate a structured and secure society, we must return to our former way of life. It is our way."

Marc, who sat next to his mentor Antoni, spoke up in a timid voice. He was obviously the youngest amongst their ranks. "Elder Badeau... I am not sure what happened and respect everyone's silence in the matters, as a representation of mourning. Could you please..."

She nodded slowly. "For those of you who don't know, and it seems like there are a few, these are the events which led to this disaster:

"Elder Eytinge," she indicated Antoni, "was attempting to negotiate a steadied resolution between America and its allies and the belt of African nations around the Congo who had allied with Korea and the extremist insurgences in Argentina and Chile, whose distrust of America has been growing over the past decade. Korea sent the first bomb soaring toward America, igniting the fuse which sent everyone into chaos. America responded as the President seemed fit. The confusion allowed for the African nations to wreak havoc throughout Europe before long. Elder Adair had been working with the Americans in hopes of preventing retaliation, but the President wouldn't hear of it. His national pride would not allow for inaction." Alexis stopped and looked around once more, her left hand coming to rest on her stomach. "The destruction happened within ten hours and the fires spread faster than any of us could have predicted."

An extended silence greeted the end of her explanation. Ethan knew so much had been left out, but the basics of the intricacies had been explained as quickly as he could conceive. Alexis moved her eyes directly at Ethan, a quite plea filling her expression for a short moment.

He spoke, calculating his words, testing the meaning he wished to invoke. "The past is now written, and we must ensure the knowledge of it is not misinterpretted in myth and half truths. We are now the bearers of the world's history, of the long line of events which are now irrelevant to this small contingency of survivors; except that we cannot allow these events to unfold again."

Sarah spoke, "We are the encyclopedia of humanity now. And we need to ensure its proper documentation for the humans."

"Then we will start our cause there," Alexis stated. "We must also ensure that the humans are getting along fine and they aren't under any illusions of our presence."

"I shall work alongside their numbers, guiding them, teaching them, helping them however I can," Ethan said without a moments hesitation.

"Thank you, Elder Adair. I think we can all agree there is no-one better suited than you." Alexis looked around everyone again. "We have many other tasks to undertake. Elder Eytinge, would you please work with Elder Lama," she indicated Sarah, "in beginning the education of new members and of the humans?"

"I shall." Antoni nodded.

"Though the most important thing is to ensure the success of humanity on Earth, this will not succeed if we cannot bring order beyond our haven. We must first ensure the safety of our numbers by supplying more energy to my barrier which I have errected. From there we must start to quell the fires and rebuild nature."

The meeting continued with discussion of rebuilding the human society. They agreed to give the humans there autonomy and place themselves beyond its influences. Many members wished to have the Council of Gaia be involved in their major political decisions, but Alexis and Ethan convinced them that by remaining a third party to provide advice gave would allow for them to eventually return to the Sage's lifestyle once harmony was reinstated with the Earth.

With the majority of issues discussed and agreed upon, Ethan left the Council of Gaia and left to visit the human town in order to start the Council's proper role in what would be the greater political schema of the human world.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

The Changed Earth (Part 2)

Even with the ever present gloom of the smoke laden air, dusk was noticeably darker and Ethan worried about getting to the islands before the night fell. The fires still raged beyond his shield, licking at the earth in an unnatural manner as if the heat was enough to keep the fires roaring. On top of this, Ethan feared the end of his shield was quickly approaching. Rest was fruitless and his body ached more than when he had arrived beneath the tree several hours before, but his energy was significantly more abundant than when he had originally sat down.

"Well, it's time to go, my little friend," he said while reaching toward his shoulder. The butterfly fluttered to his hand, quiet and light.

Ethan stood gingerly, his back seizing a little from the position he was in for so long. His legs were stiff, his head swam a little from the rushing blood, but his resolve kept him upright with the aid of his free hand against the tree. After a quick survey of his little haven, he determined his predictions were accurate. Smoke was overwhelming the uppermost parts of the dome, filtering in and out of the weakened protection. Soot fell onto the uppermost leaves of the tree which shaded Ethan from the dismal blackness that was the sky.

"The stars should be out tonight, moon almost full. Mars and Saturn almost together in Gemini. The aurora is ripping the skies in gentle folds over Canada and Alaska." Ethan looked down to his hand where the blue butterfly flexed its wings in calm patterns. "All of this we cannot see. I fear we will not see for a long time yet." Unless Alexis found more of us, he thought to himself.

Fear not for the face of the Earth. It is changing.

The familiar voice was too calm for Ethan's ragged heart. Emotion swelled in his throat, drawing breath to a stifled, shallow gasping. Tears welled in his eyes as he thought in response, But I don't want it to change like this! So much is lost that cannot be restored.

No response came.

Wiping at his eyes, Ethan steeled his emotions away, subduing their roaming touch to a darker part of his mind. There would be time later to deal with them; time when he wasn't alone with a silent butterfly as his companion. With this simple task done, he turned to the east, looking in the direction of the Coco's Island where his next salvation, his next haven held fast against the destruction of the Earth.

A deep breath in to clear his thoughts, and the full force of the Earth's power entered his body; the flow of every living thing dieing, the touch of the blacked earth and drying rivers, the suffocating clouds hovering over the silent trees, the roiling of the inner body of the Mother. Every touch brought a power, every power brought a message, and those messages ripped apart the hope Ethan held on to with such futility. He closed his eyes.

Alexis pushed herself into his mind, outstretched hands welcoming all who sought her guidance, all who needed her strength, all who longed for comfort. The image was vivid, and Ethan suddenly realized how she had truly embraced her potential, her gifts to communicate with Gaia, and was now directing her full efforts in gathering the remaining Sages. Ethan embraced Alexis' image and felt the touch of the Mother flow up from the Earth, feeding on the life force the tree and the grass, reaching deep into the roots and insects that enriched the soil. He could taste the earth, feel the fresh air coming from the leaves, heard the roar of fire in such a different perspective.

Then the gentle tendrils gripped at his being, wrapping in a tight, prickly way which shocked the hairs on his skin into attention. They coursed in and out of his body, empowering his cells with the gift of Gaia's energy. A sharp tug pulled him downwards.

The sensation of falling through the Earth never brought elation, as he had heard from his pupils over the ages. Feeling the quick drop into the mantle of his world, dropping into the inner fires of its heart, and resurfacing onto a different part of the world unsettled him. Perhaps it was his philosophical background, but he wondered how much of his spirit, his soul, his being remained the same through such a giving of his self. Complete emersion in Gaia. The utter release of reality.

The vision of Alexis guided the pull, and soon his body felt a rising again. With eyes closed and a subtle acknowledgement of his companion, Ethan started to feel the cooling of the surface reach his body. Finally, in such a short time even with the extented awareness of the motion of time through the Mother's understanding of it, the wet press of the ocean's air surrounded the Elder.

Ethan opened his eyes and greeted the welcome paradise of the Coco's Islands, the sea stretching onward and the sky mostly clear. The moon hung above him, bright and beautiful. The butterfly which had accompanied him drifted past his sight, soaring towards its own paradise in the small brush. As he followed its flight, Ethan found the other survivors asleep or resting together some distance to the north of where he stood.

And there, Alexis stood watching him with a smile that lightened Ethan's heart.

As she came closer she called out, "Elder! It is such a relief to see you safe. I was beginning to worry."

"I was well protected, Alexis." He opened his arms and welcomed her body against his. They hugged for a moment before releasing.

She looked directly into his eyes. "Your body is weak and stiff. You need rest."

"When there is time, my child. I have lived through--" Ethan couldn't finish his sentence. It was a lie. "When there is time. I must assist you in whatever way I can."

"There is really nothing for you to do but rest, Elder Adair." Her voice was hard, and Ethan knew exactly what that meant. She reached for his hand and pulled him towards the south where a few unnatural trees were swaying in a gentle sea breeze. "I have set up a special sanctuary for our survivors. It is being enriched completely by Gaia, as if She is focusing on this one spot. I could never have asked for such power from her."

Nodding slowly, "She is making sure we survive. She knows the significance of what is happening and is willing to give us what we need." He stopped just outside the trees, pulling her back from the grace of its beauty. "How many are we?" his voice asked firmly, allowing no decent from her now, pulling every right of status to ensure his answers were met.

She didn't look into his eyes, sorrow or tiredness filling her stature. "Not twenty so far. You make eighteen, but I know of a few more, whether they will make it or not... I don't know."

"And the humans?"

"Approximately five hundred fifty. Some of the other sages are bringing small groups with them... again... if they make it all together. It takes preparation to make it through the Earth, and they may not have time enough for that." She shivered slightly.

Five hundred fifty humans left on Earth. If estimates favored them, six hundred left to rebuild society and start the race anew. "Are these locals just to the north?"

"Yes. I've convinced them to stay nearer to us, promising them protection from the onslaught of the destruction."

He nodded in approval. I would have done the same thing, said the same words, but her presence was always immediately stronger. "Good." He let her hand go and started into the small wood.

Once inside Ethan felt the eminence of power that circled within his new home. The canopy broadened and seemed transparent; pulling the lights from the sky into the underside as if the onlookers gazed at the clear night sky. The interior was much larger than it looked from the outside; allowing for much personal space and quiet from the few others that rested within. Sleeping on the ground on lush grass and soft earth were the sixteen others who had survived this ordeal.

From behind him, Alexis placed her hand on Ethan's shoulder to direct him to his 'designated' area. She spoke softly, "Tomorrow I'll call a proper gathering, now that you're here, and we'll talk about our first actions. My shields are strong enough to last a week, thanks be to Her. We can worry about their reinforcements later."

"Thank you, Alexis."

She smiled, a tear falling down her cheek. "Thank you. I wouldn't have my strength if you had--" her voice caught. She tried to recover without a pause and continued with, "Get some sleep. I'll keep searching for and aiding the others."

Alexis left the confines of the sanctuary; and suddenly the sounds of a true forest filled his senses. Sleep was easily attained in the comfort he felt within the small grove.

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Sacrilegious Vehemence

Before the others,
Righteous in his fervor,
convicting his views as proper in spite of
Authority teaching wisdom.

"It doesn't contradict itself!"
he declares heated like tempests.
The black Book crossed as titled, sits
quietly undisturbed in his right hand.
"I've read it and it"
"Contradict itself!"

"But it does," her calm, collected
voice speaks slowly.

"He is never wrong, and"
"This is His word, His law!"
The Book wavers in the air,
voiceless before its subjects.

Her patience resolved to simplicity
before the storm of obsessed
"But He did not write it."
"And it wasn't written by one."
"Man wrote it, and therein"
"Lies the contradictions."

Blustering back to his seat,
Book in hand, placed before the temper,
the student brings forth his
Yellow Sword to fight, and find
the truth of statements written,

His faith bruised by Her.

(This was inspired by an account retold to me of a student in a comparative religions class)

Undecided Sympathy Aggressively Sought...

Undecided sympathy aggressively sought
through declared unrest of whole,
broken by hidden agents deserved, perhaps,
through acts of disgusted droll.
Relentless torture voiced as whine
piercing by the table side,
drawing commune selfwards eternally
piercing hearts describing her hide.

Release the center to sunshine days
believe in other's ought
where disquiet liners at her word, who
believe no words can voice their thought.
Uncontrolled animus boldly expands
through unexpressed regret
broken merely by the honest care
through requests of the daily onset.

The Particulars of Perplexities I Place Myself

Acting in ways of morally sound judgment raises the perceived weight carried through and through, as if protecting one aspect over another. The thought of which is a better prospect to protect remains the struggle for which my mind wages, or rather waged till early this morning, to find proper allocation of value in the needed hierarchy where the issue resides. Between intimate and faculty, who reigns of higher import where morality and ethics come to play? Where lives are affected beyond this realm and unto the personal, what decisions matter greatly of chaste towards the environment in question? The former has occupied my perception of righteousness for months, it seems; the enjoyment of knowing amiability amongst fellow proletarians has ever been a treasured commodity and fervently sought throughout my developed life. The latter, however, caused the whole contrariety in the argument for pure ethics in its own arena. Since my beginnings with this berth, the equating of the whole by two of its subordinates has festered intolerability towards the majority. Thus, my acknowledgment of right-doing on the premise of ethics has allowed a swaying of actions within the situation. Rebelliousness is surely enjoyable when discontent and disheartenment prevail the morale amongst peers; and perhaps the matter of contention is a causatum of these reactions. Well, knowingly it is. Then is it not a service to lance the figures on both ends and rebuild the environment with intentions of the necessary? Furthermore, are the benefactors of my actions viewed less through their perception of my eyes than of actuality from thought? I pray not, for the love I feel remains whole even when the conscious effort towards the ameliorated deem the circumstaces be had. Unfortunate circumstances which pound the heart to think of descriptions to the reality. Forgive, oh my spirit needs forgiveness despite the befitting and moral commitment forged over the air. Perchance it is an absolution I give myself... an understanding of the requirments of my responsibility to the community such that thriving persists beyond the seemingly simple hurdle placed conivingly near. Then I must not dwell until the mount is reached and the gates are opened, providing a sound existence to my doubts. May it be.

Thursday, February 4, 2010


Rushing down the slopes, past shadows in the evergreens as they reach out in shapes of those to whom they stand so close. A flash in sight before miles away leans a seconds recognition to form a thought and heart the symbols spoken from the light. Be secret and dark though visible still, deciphered only to those who seek: the search for something known on higher planes or within our souls. Dionysus laughing as we fight in vain to see what so plainly seeks our sight from beyond Lethe.

The Kindle: Modern or Post-Modern?

Is the Kindle a step in modernism despite its postmodern exterior? Even asking the question raises two distinct needs: Modernism and Postmodernism... what the heck are these? Furthermore, which area is being defined: literature or technology, communication or ownership? Looking in all of these areas may help to create an understanding of a categorical placement for the Kindle in the scheme of modernism versus postmodernism.

Modernism has four major values which arose during the Industrial Revolution: "celebrating the individual, believing in rational order, working efficiently, and rejecting tradition" (Campbell et. al, Media and Culture, Boston 2009). It is also characterized as a cultural movement against the Enlightenment thinking, "in which reason was advocated as the primary source of legitimacy and authority" (, 2010). On the other hand, there are four major values which seemingly define the cultural thinking towards Postmodernism: "opposing hierarchy, diversifying and recycling culture, questioning scientific reasoning, and embracing paradox" (Campbell et. al, Media and Culture, Boston 2009). It is also defined as "a style and concept in the arts characterized by distrust in theories and ideologies and by the drawing of attention to convention" (Compact Oxford English Dictionary 2010).

Now the question remains: is the Kindle a modern or postmodern utility. As a device, it exudes postmodernism in its very form. The mingling of technology with a more basic construction and forcing individuals to purchase the data on another device in the form of a data download off the internet is a perfect example of postmodernism as it relates to media convergence and the appropriation of multiple technologies to simply read a book. These steps force the individual to break away from the norms and embrace diverse means. Furthermore, the business hierarchy, in regards to publishing, is a slap in the face to the larger publishing houses who grip the market firmly (in regards to fiction, poetry, fantasy, science-fiction, and the classics). Amazon and the Kindle allow the author to publish her works without the necessity of contracts with publishing houses or relying on agents to do the work.

However, this device has a stronghold on its own market. Sure there is the Sony Reader and other devices that do the same thing, but the Kindle seems to be the one people cling to in conversations, to criticize about their business practices, to claim is the new trophy of postmodernism. Doesn't the Kindle set itself apart as the individual, the item that will help everyone keep all their books together on one device, to be unique and accessible? Isn't Amazon attempting to entice people to use the Kindle as a means of working efficiently when it relates to books, novels, and reading in general? Don't they want everyone to reject the tradition of buying books in hardback or paperback form and accept the Kindle as a new and rational step in the progress of humanity as it relates to technology? Perhaps the Kindle is actually a tool of modernism and not so much the icon of postmodernism then.

What does this mean then? Is the use of buying of books the new symbolic action of postmodernism? Or perhaps going back to checking books out form the library then? Is resisting the Kindle a postmodern act, by rejecting the authority of Amazon and embracing the old cultural norm of reading from a paperback book?

What do you think? I can't help buy think of both levels of the Kindle and therefore place the Kindle in the postmodern category, because it forces us to think about the contexts and question maybe sociological meanings of the Kindle in contemporary society.