52 Stories in 52 Weeks: ## 21 Harry: The Milk Delivery Boy
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr.'s Ambidextrous Brain + Mind.
Harry was born in his parent’s farm house, in the dead cold of winter. The farm house had electricity, but it also had candles and fireplaces to help keep room’s lit and people warm, in the dark cold nights of winter. Harry was born during a time of change for America and for the world; but then again, there is always change in the world; or is there? Harry had learned that some things almost never seem to change, in the world, or in people.
But a farm with land and cows and pigs and chickens, along with long hours of hard work kept Harry’s family from begging for jobs and for food, unlike the many city dwellers who had been laid off from their city jobs and the factory jobs and stock market jobs during America’s hard economic times. Yet, milk was always needed for babies and children, just as it is today. Back then, like today, milk was a small part of the overall economy, yet without milk and the milkman, the tummies and health of all children would never have been the same.
As Harry grew up on the farm, he learned about life as mother nature seemingly intended life to be, away from the city. Animals were animals, while people were people. Or humans were plainly humans. At first, that seemed a simple concept for Harry when he started to visit the city as a helper on the milk route. Sometimes, early in the morning, Harry would ride along side his dad or a farm worker who was assigned to deliver milk to the city people. Harry would ride along just to visit the city, to see the houses and buildings, even when it was dark and cold outside. Of course, it was cold and dark in the house during those hours anyway, so why not seek adventure instead of just freezing in a cold bed. For a long time, young Harry had never met any of the city people, because they were all sleeping. But one day, Harry and his family started to go to church on Sunday.
The first time young Harry went to the church, he saw a blocked shaped cross on the front wall. It was a plain white cross, but he did not know what it meant. He thought that he would find out later what the plain blocked cross meant. He also attended the church’s Sunday school where he soon learned about The Ten Commandments (Exod. 20:1-7) that were written by a man named Moses thousands of years ago. Harry had heard the words, ‘Do not kill.’ But when they returned home, he was ordered by his mother to kill a chicken for their dinner. As Harry picked up the first chicken he could catch, he brought it over to a big tree stump, laid its neck on the tree stump and very quickly raised the axe into the air and swung it down on the chicken’s neck. The head fell off and then Harry had to puck the feathers out of the chicken and then he had to gut and skin the chicken. All the while, Harry thought of those words, do not kill. He wondered what they really meant. Harry felt confused, even as he and his family sat down to a very delicious meal of chicken and buttered corn and potatoes and apple pie, and of course milk.
Furthermore, Harry would read the Sunday newspaper and he would learn about America’s soldiers and foreign soldiers who were all being killed or who were all killing each other for defending America’s freedom or protecting another nation from bad people who wanted to overtake the whole world; as if it was a real life comic book story about good versus evil. The evil people were trained to kill innocent people just for the fun of it, because they were brainwashed into thinking that the innocent everyone were evil. Each group of evil killers all had their reason for killing people, but in the end, killing innocent and helpless people was wrong. Nevertheless, all of those reasons led America and other countries to defend themselves against the really evil people who wanted to kill. So in the end of it all, the killers were killed by the good people who had to defend themselves against crazy minded people.
So Harry the farm boy started to think more and more about human nature in general; about what was truly good and evil in that human nature. Harry started to wonder how killing a chicken for food versus killing a human in self-defense would hurt his soul, if he indeed found out that he had an eternal soul with a memory of his human life on earth. He just did not know about the issues of good and evil, except from what he had learned in Sunday school, and from the church’s preacher, and from what he had read in the daily newspapers. Harry thought that there was a great big divide between the church’s concept of good and evil, and the world’s concept of good and evil. And yet, after church, his dad and friends would all carry guns on the farm to hunt for food and for self-defense and protection from the bad men and the normal animals who wanted to rob the farm for food.
The farm life was simple way of life for the boy Harry because cows were always cows, the chickens were always chickens, the pigs were always pigs, the horses were always horses. Dogs and cats seemed to be part wild animals and partly domesticated. For the most part, people were always people, except for those thinkers or discoverers of new ideas which led to new inventions, like the automobile and electricity. Harry would help milk the cows and put the milk into milk bottles and he would also load the milk bottles into the milk truck. Harry’s muscles grew big and strong by all that hard work and by drinking milk.
One day, Harry rode into the city for a day ride. He noticed that most people wore different clothes than did the farm guys. He compared the farm guy’s blue jeans and work boots to the city peoples’ dresser clothes of dark suits and white shirts and colorful ties and hats and dressy shoes. He wondered what these city people were really like. On that first day into the city, Harry saw a fight break out between two school aged boys. One boy pulled out a boot knife and he stabbed the other boy. The guilty boy ran away as the police were arriving. Harry had seen the two boys in church and Sunday school, so he wondered what had caused them to fight; and for one boy to stab the other boy with a knife. Was good and evil involved before the fight, and during the fight, and even after the fight? What had caused the two boys to fight each other in the first place, which led to the possible death of one boy? A girl or maybe money or maybe just a bunch of bad words and hurt feelings!
As Harry rode pass the scene, he could not help but confusingly wonder about this funny nature in humans. To go to church on Sunday to pray and be peaceful, while fighting outside of church. What was the mystery? What madness! Harry started to believe that humans had two natures in them, an animal nature, and a more advanced human nature. Furthermore, all humans had to constantly choose which nature they wanted to be, the animal or the advanced human. The cows were almost always peaceful, so were the pigs and chickens and roosters and horses and the snakes and the turtles and the birds. So how could humans who were supposed to be more advanced than the animals, be sometimes more cruel than the farm animals? How could people be constantly fighting over religious beliefs for thousands of years and thousands of years? Nations fighting nations over religious beliefs. While in grade school, Harry had read about the America’s civil war. About the thousands of men and people who died because they believed in freedom to practice their own concepts of religion and forms of government, free from the British Empire.
One day, Harry was sitting in class when he looked at a girl. Another boy was so jealous over Harry’s looking that he wanted to fight Harry. Harry looked down at his own fists, and he wondered what it would feel like to hit, to punch, to kick, to damage the skin and bones of another human being, for whatever reason. Harry knew that he did not want to fight, but he also knew that he did not want to be hurt or beat up either. Later, when the boy confronted Harry, no harm was done because a teacher had walked up to the two boys to prevent any trouble.
Later that night, Harry walked outside and he looked up to the sky’s stars and he wondered out loud, ‘Why oh why must humans have to fight and kill each other like no other animal creature on earth?’ Harry did not even wait for an answer; nor did he expect an answer from the stars.
On another day, when Harry was older, he started his first payment collection route for the farm. His mother dressed him up in dresser clothes for appearances sake, but to also prepare Harry for the man he would become after he left the farm; if indeed he wanted to leave the farm. In his sportier clothes, Harry felt like a new person. New enough so he could talk to anyone. There would be no division between him and the others, or so he thought. Harry started off on his money collection route by knocking on the first house on the list. As Harry waited for the person to open the door, he created a few simple lines for his introduction. ‘Good afternoon. I am Harry from the milk farm and I am collecting the money due for the weekly milk. He guessed that simple introduction was better than a long and winded one. As he saw the door knob open, he caught himself slowing down his racing heart beat.
A lady opened the door. ‘Hello.’ Harry almost put out his hand to shake her hand, but he remembered that he was not selling anything. ‘Hello, my name is Harry, from the milk farm. I am collecting this weeks milk money.’ She said, ‘Come on it, young man.’ (Back in those days, people were much friendlier than they are now.) After Harry entered the house; he waited at the door while the lady went upstairs to get her money. Harry looked around the house and he noticed something that shocked him. He saw a rather large cross with a human male hanging on it, with its hands bound or nailed to the cross while his feet seemed to be standing on a piece of wood, keeping his legs and body from solely dangling from the hands and arms.
When the lady descended from the stairs, she walked up to Harry and gave him the money. After Harry said thanks, he could not resist asking the lady a question. ‘We have a block shape cross in our church, but there is not a human hanging from it. What does it mean and who is he?’ The lady opened her eyes wider and replied, ‘Well young man. Your name is Harry, isn’t it? Harry shook his head up and down, for a yes. ‘Well, young man. Over two thousand years ago, the Roman Empire used to crucify people when those people were a threat to the Roman Empire or the Roman government. That guy on the cross represents many things to many people. But to me, one of the things it represents is the evil in human nature. The Romans used to crucify thousands of people on trees and wooden poles, without a blink of a guilty conscience. But people in power have tortured people for all kinds of reasons without an ounce of a guilty conscience. How shameful for the human race. That man is usually referred to as the Savior Jesus, but since the Romans crucified thousands upon thousands of humans, I think that in one sense, the cross symbolizes a sense of good and evil in the human nature.’ Harry felt a numbing in his soul that he had never felt before.
Harry unthinkingly walked over the next house. He again, knocked on the door, only to be greeted by a lady with a strange accent. ‘Hi. I am Harry and I am collecting the milk money this week.’ She said that she would be right back. Harry noticed a picture on the wall. To Harry, it looked like a prison, but he did not know exactly what it was, so when she returned with the milk money, Harry asked her, ‘If you do not mind, can you tell me what is that building is in that picture.’ ‘Sure Harry. That is the concentration camp Auschwitz in Germany, where my uncle and over two million other jews and people died because the Nazis Party. You will learn more about it in your history class. But needless to say, the Nazis hated the jews and other people too; so they killed many of them as if they were cattle.’ Harry knew that they were not killed like cattle because they were killed not for food, but because people hated other groups and kinds of people.
Harry waved good bye to the lady. He was now even more confused about the nature of the human race if people have been hurting each other for thousands of years. Harry knocked on the next door for the milk collection and another lady answered the door. She invited Harry into her house for a moment, to escape the heat of the day. As she went looking for her money, Harry noticed a whip on the fireplace. When the lady returned to give the money to Harry, Harry asked her, ‘What is the whip for? If you do not mind me asking.’ Oh that old thing. That whip was used on the slaves in the south when whipping slaves was legal. But then Abraham Lincoln issued the Emancipation of Proclamation in 1863 to free certain slaves in America. Then in December 6, 1865, the ratification of the Thirteenth Amendment wiped out slavery in America for good.’ Harry asked her, ‘Why would a slave owner whip a slave?’ She replied, ‘Usually because they tried to escape and then they were caught by the slave owners. Of course, whipping those poor slaves only caused them to keep escaping until they were not caught. Sometimes freedom came with a price, like scares on their backs.’ As usual, Harry said good bye as he left the house.
Harry walked slowly to the next house. He was afraid of what he would learn from the next lady. Harry sat down on the side walk for a moment to ponder to himself the question of good and evil in human nature. ‘If humans are supposed to be a more advanced creature than the wild animals, then why do they enjoy hurting, torturing, and even killing other people? Did all of these people drink milk when they were children? Harry stood up and walked to the next house.
Another lady answered the door and she invited Harry into her house. Only this time, Harry was mentally prepared for anything. As the lady searched for her milk money, Harry saw a couple of belts that were hanging on some hooks on the wall. Harry knew better, but he just had to ask what were the reason for those belts because they looked as if they had blood stains on them. The heavy lady’s feet pounded the air with each step as she descended from house’s upstairs.
‘Thank you for the money. May I ask you a question?' 'Go ahead kid, ask away.’ 'Why do you have leather belts hanging on the livingroom wall instead hanging instead a bedroom closet?’ ‘Hey kid, your name is Harry, isn’t it?’ Harry silently shook his head up and down. ‘Well first, it is none of your business kid, but since you asked. Those are for beating my dogs and kids when they are bad or when I just feel like teaching them who is boss.’ Harry replied, ‘But as a mother, aren’t you supposed to be loving to your kids, like a mother cow is loving to her baby cow, or like a mother pig is loving to her baby pig, or like a mother horse is loving to her baby horse, or a mother elephant is loving to her baby elephant, or a mother monkey is loving to her monkey children?’ Harry felt his anger rising when he heard the two young children weeping in the kitchen.
Harry raised his voice just a tone, ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you talked to your kids, teaching them the lessons they need to survive in the world instead of beating fear into them?’ The lady looked down at Harry in utter contempt. Harry quickly left the house as he said, ‘Thanks for the milk money.’
Harry finished collecting the weekly milk money with without asking a single question to anyone. When he arrived home, his parents were waiting in the kitchen. ‘So Harry, did you finish your first milk money collection ok?’ Harry answered, ‘Yea. But I heard some real sad stories every time I asked a question, so I stop asking questions from the ladies.’ His parents slightly giggled at Harry. Harry looked up and said, ‘What is so funny.’ His parents said, ‘We received a phone call from one lady who said that you were preaching to her about talking to her kids instead of beating her kids. Harry did not feel any tension from his parents. ‘We are so proud of you Harry. The whole town (it was a small town) is talking about how you told that old bag to treat her children the way they should be treated. Before she hung up the phone, we told her a thing or two too. Even the preacher called us. He thinks you might be a good preacher one day. And by the way son, I told that lady if she or her husband ever lays a hand on you, they will be dealing with my fists or maybe more, so do not worry about her. They will not bother you.' Harry smiled!
The following Sunday, the preacher was standing at the podium, looking over everyone. ‘What a great day for living and thinking and preaching the Word of God. Today I will talk about kindness to our children. There are some here today who believe in the phrase, ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child. (The notion that children will only flourish if punished, physically or otherwise, for any wrong doing. (He that spareth the rod hated his own son. Proverbs 13-24)). But I say unto you, Jesus himself loved children and he would never hit a child, especially his own, if he had children. Nor would he have taught people to hit their own children. So to those of you who believe that hitting your children is the way to teach your child the difference between right from wrong, hitting and beating them is not the way. When you hit your own children, you are just as guilty as those Roman soldiers who beat on the innocent and good man named Jesus.’
He continued, ‘Adults and children have brains for a reason, to talk to their children, to teach them about life in and out of the church and schools. Beating and whipping their bare skin is no different than when the Romans beat on the man Jesus and the thousands of other poor souls over two thousand years ago. Have we not improved our love for our children and for each other since the times of the Romans? Some people have not learned that pretending to be a Roman solider as they beat and whip on their innocent children is not the best way to be a parent. But you can change! You can stop beating on your children and you can learn to talk to them, to make them wise and healthy and loving, just as the mother cow loves its baby cow, and a mother horse loves its baby horse, and a mother pig loves its baby pig, and a mother elephant loves its baby elephant and a mother monkey loves its baby monkey. We humans are supposed to be superior and more advance than the animals, so lets start to act like it.’
Out from no where, a weeping sound was heard. Everyone in the church turned towards the weeping sound. Harry stood up and saw the lady with the two belts on her wall. She started to weep profusely. The preacher walked over to the lady and sat down next to her. He whispered a few words in her ears and she became silent. The preacher walked back to the podium and spoke. ‘We will help anyone improve their child raising methods, when they ask for advise from other church members.’ Everyone started to clap. As everyone began to leave the church, the teary eyed lady hugged her two children, as other mothers started talking to her.
Harry knew what he wanted to do with his life. He realized that even as a young boy with no real life experience or education, how he had changed the life of one family and a small town by speaking the truth. How much more could he change the world with the TRUTH once he gained real life experience, a better education, knowledge, wisdom. So Harry kept on working on the farm, and even collecting milk money from the families, but Harry started to read too. And he learned to write. And he learned to speak.
Harry made two wooden stands and podiums. Harry put one in the farm’s barn, and he put one out in the farm’s fields. He would then stand out in the open field when the sky was blue with white clouds and Harry would read from the Bible or another spiritual book or even a newspaper. He felt as if some angels were listening into his make believe preaching. He would also read books about government and economics and history. Harry would stand on the barn’s wooden stand and podium and he would read out loud to the farm animals. The cows and the horses and pigs and cats and dogs would all listen to the soul filled individual man child as he practiced giving speeches to the world, though at first only a world of farm animals and angels. Harry was not sure if he was ready to speak in front of people, but he would prepare anyway.
One day, Harry was standing out on the farm field’s wooden stand and podium. He was just talking off the top of his head about talking to children instead of hitting children. He saw his parents walking up to him, so he stopped preaching to the cows. Angels already know that parents should not hit their children. They began to explain to him that the preacher had passed away and that they needed a temporary replacement. Some of the town’s folks requested Harry because he was the town secret. He thought that no one knew that he was practicing to be a preacher, but everyone knew that Harry was playing preacher because the school children would ride their bicycles pass Harry on the farm’s dirt roads. The boys would laugh, but the girls loved Harry's plans for a bright future, not to mention his strong muscles and smart mind.
Harry agreed to preach on Sunday. So he started to prepare for his first Sunday speech, but before he fell asleep, Harry had a day dream that one day, all people would learn to stop hating other people. Then, Harry feel into a very deep sleep.
DVD TO WATCH....END OF THE SPEAR: based on a true story. One line in the movie seems to summarize this week's story. 'If you kill again, you will kill us all.'
Sunday, May 27, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Jack The Jet Fighter Pilot
52 Stories in 52 Weeks: ## 20 Jack the Jet Fighter Pilot
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr.'s Ambidextrous Brain + Mind.
An unusual day for Jack, the jet fighter pilot. Of course, being a jet fighter pilot is an unusual job, for anyone. But Jack had long ago heard and read stories of other jet fighter pilots who had seen weird shapes appear and disappear in and out of the sky; like strange bugs that fly faster per size than the jet fighter planes. Jack had his doubts about strange objects flying in and out of space like some strange creatures from an outer space movie. Nevertheless, an unusual day meant that Jack had an experience that was out of the ordinary, even for a jet fighter pilot.
Most people would agree that just being a jet fighter pilot is an unusual job for anyone to experience; so what else is new? Jack had dreamed of being a jet fighter pilot as a little boy. He would hold one end of a thick string, as the other end of the string was attached to a model airplane. He would sometimes spend hours building model airplanes. That is the wonder of being a child; the ability to dream without the world’s doubt holding you back from dreaming. Some people dream, while others do not dream. Maybe the secret to success is not letting the non-dreamers from stopping the dreamers from dreamers. Jack’s younger brother called such people dream breakers.
Jack would hold the string and twirl the plastic airplane around and around in a basic constant circular motion; even though he later learned that real airplanes have to deal with gravity and g-forces, and a lot of other stuff, like bullets in times of war. But to dream of sitting in the pilots seat of an airplane was only the beginning for Jack’s dreams. Every once in a while, a real plane or jet fighter would fly above his head as he twirled the plastic model airplane around and around. Soon, Jack realized that it was sort of a small miracle that a tons of steel could seemingly float through the air; even as the engines sucked air through the front and then pushed the air out the back. It was a bigger miracle of science and technology. As Jack stood on the ground, he knew that a part his brain somehow saw a tiny speck cruising through the sky; yet his logical mind knew that tons of steel were being uplifted into the air by some invisible principle. A wits of ideas over steel! Jack wanted to know more about airplanes and of the ideas of flight.
One day, Jack’s parents took him to an airplane show. There were biplanes, and World War II planes, and modern day jet planes, plus a Huey airplane; among other planes. As they were walking around the fair grounds, they stopped at a little red plane. The pilot of the plane was almost as long as the plane; it was only six feet long, yet it could travel four hundred miles an hour. The pilot was getting ready to fly the plane, but he was talking about the plane before he stepped into the plane. The pilot was describing that one bolt costs seventy-five dollars. Jack remembered that his dad would buy a whole box of bolts for less than 7 bucks, so those bolts must have been built out of some really strong metal.
Jack watched the pilot climb into the red mini-plane, he wondered what he would feel like if he was flying in that airplane at four hundred miles an hour. Would he feel like a human hummingbird or more like a fly? Maybe he would feel like a new kind of human; after all, the human brain did not seem as if it was built to fly in the sky at four hundred miles an hour.
Jack did not know what the pilot felt like as he flew the red mini-plane around in circles and even straight up towards the sun, but he thought to himself that he must be having fun, so Jack had decided to become a jet fighter pilot when he grew up. Jack started to take flying lessons at a local country farm’s dirt airfield. He had heard about an airfield at an old timer’s farm. So he walked over to the farmer to introduce himself. An older gentleman named Ed, 75 years old, walked out of the barn. After a short introduction, and after they started to talked about flying planes, Ed found it in his heart to give Jack flying lessons in exchange for labor help from Jack.
The first time Jack walked up to the plane, a Cessna 152, Ed showed Jack how to inspect the exterior of the physical plane, and after they were finished with checking the gasoline tank for water moisture, they stepped into the plane to sit in it chairs. When Ed looked over at the young Jack, he noticed the same moment of awe that he first experienced the first time he flew inside a plane. He hoped to exchange some wisdom to young Jack, as a gesture of kindness for his long flying life.
After Ed explained the instrument panel and the plane’s rubbers to Jack, it was the moment for action. As Ed pushed in the plane’s throttle for power, the plane started to move forward on the dirt road. Jack felt like it was like they were in a car, except for the whirling propeller. Ed told Jack to grab unto the steering handle, just so Jack could feel Ed’s handling of the plane. As the plane reached an easy 60 miles an hour, and then seventy miles an hour, Ed turned towards Jack to look at his facial expression as Ed slightly pulled back the plane’s handle less than an inch. The plane lifted above the dirt runway to hover above the ground only four feet. The plane flew over the ground just four feet, so the plane could pick up more speed, so it would be able to climb up to five thousand feet about sea level.
As Jack’s body felt at one with the plane, so too did his mind feel at one with the sky. Jack’s mind felt different in the sky than when he was walking on the dirt road. Instead of looking at the sky, he was in it. As Jack’s body was lifted up towards the sky, so too was Jack’s mind carried forward into a new state of awareness; like that of a creature without wings, yet flying in the sky, like a bird and a human. Now, he was a new creature, with a new lifting spirt which seem to arise from deep within his spiritual identity. His skin and bones body were unchanged before, during, and after the liftoff, but his mind sure had changed. Feeling a new kind of freedom while looking down towards the brown trees and blue water and dark roads and green grass, while seeing the white clouds in front of him, led Jack to forget the world for a few seconds as his mind transformed into a mind with new possibilities and a new future. Jack began to believe that angels do answer prayers because he had been praying for this moment ever since he began building model airplanes and watching airplanes flying over him. His earthly mind was carried forward to fly the heavenly skies, as a future pilot.
Ed looked over to Jack and asked him, ‘Well Jack, what does it feel like to be flying in the sky like a bird?’ Jack’s wide eyes looked over to Ed and responded, ‘Like a bird without wings.’ Ed chuckled as he replied, ‘Well, the airplanes has the wings, but people long ago dreamed of flying. So one day some dreamers did more than dream, the began to build experimental airplanes.
There is some debate about who really built the first airplane. Some people think the Wright Brothers started the whole business. But the two brothers had competitors that were also trying to become the first airplane builders. But the most important part of flying is the invisible principles of flight; such as the principle of lift versus gravity. Thinkers like Leonardo de Vinci started to think about flight long before the first plane was ever built. There is a lesson for you Jack. Thinkers are more important than builders, because you have to be thinking before, during, and after you fly an airplane. Of course, we need thinking builders too. Otherwise, we would not have the planes to fly. Builders have to be thinkers too. Without thinkers, we would not have planes to fly.’
Jack said, ‘I think about angels a lot.’
Ed said, ‘Yea, flying brings a sense of other flying creatures. But I do not think real angels have wings, because their sense of space and time and the seemingly material world is different than what we see with our human brain and human mind.’ Jack just looked at Ed and responded with, ‘But all of the paintings have creatures with wings.’ Ed said, ‘That is just the way humans symbolize creatures that they can not see, but believe exist. Most of those paintings were painted in religious times when planes and science did not exist. Here is a lesson on perspective Jack. If our human brains had developed structurally physiologically different, we would be seeing a completely different universe. Change your perspective, and we might see those angels of yours. But in any case, we would also be experiencing flying different; just as a hummingbird experiences flight different than us.’ Jack responded with an, ‘Oh.’
‘What is that dark spot in the sky? Jack asked Ed. Ed responded, ‘That is another airplane. Good eyes kid. You never know what you will see in the sky kid. Sometimes you see things that no one will ever believe. But you will understand that when you get older. Just remember that I told you so, if you ever fly jets at supersonic speeds. Space and time is different for different creatures of the universe. Do not be surprised if you see things in the sky, Jack. Do not be surprised!’
Ed told Jack that it was time to land the plane. ‘Getting off the ground is easy, Jack. The hard part is landing the airplane.’ As Jack looked at the ground below him, he realized that the plane was not slowing down. ‘Jack, we need to keep the plane at a certain speed and angle; otherwise it will stall, or do some other crazy stuff.’ Jack watched Ed guide the plane to the ground. As they exited the plane, they made plans for Jack to work the farm, and to fly again, with more lessons about flight, planes, life, and the possibilities of other universes which the brain can not see, but which it somehow realizes that exist because even the brain knows its own limitations. Otherwise, telescopes and microscopes would have never been invented.
Much later in his life, after Jack left high school and after he finished college for aerodynamics, he had joined the US Air-force. He worked his way up the ranks of private to naval pilot. Flying planes for the United States Air-force meant that Jack had to be physically fit and psychologically sound, but somehow, even the air force could not have prepared Jack for his unusual day.
Jack was older now, bigger and stronger too, plus much wiser and an experienced pilot. As he sat in the jet fighter plane, speeding pass the Mach 1 sound barrier caused him to focus straight ahead, until he saw the glowing disk in the sky. (Understand dear reader, that traveling at Mach 1 means going about 600 miles per hour or 1,062 kilometers per hour at 20,000 feet above sea level) As Jack headed faster towards Mach 2 and Mach 3, he wondered to himself, ‘I wonder what is going faster than me?’
The glowing object floated up to his side, flying right next to him. In one second, it disappeared from Jack’s vision and he wondered to himself if he had just experienced an hallucination. But he changed his mind after he looked outside from the other window, only to see the same glowing object floating next to him as if he were on a lake of water with another sailboat. Jack thought of rubbing his eyes, but the helmet prevented him from doing touching his face and he knew that if he blinked, the glowing object could simply disappear into the thin air. Of course, Jack had in a sense disappeared into thin air, in the eyes of people who were standing on the ground. Most of them would have heard only the sonic boom that the airplane creates as it moved air molecules around the plane.
But how could this floating glowing object not create any sound as it moved faster than the speed of sound? though Jack. ‘Maybe the speed of sound was different for this floating glowing object and its occupants. And what kind of occupants were sitting in the glowing object?’ thought Jack. His trained mind almost reacted to the glowing object by radioing into ground command, but who would believe him? He knew that for sure! Then, he remembered stories from other pilots and even that of Ed. ‘Do not be surprised by what you might see in the sky.’
In a blink of an eye, in the blink of a thought, Jack sensed a oneness with the glowing craft in the sky, a sense of fellowship and comradery with his flying friends. After all, how many people would be flying next to him, at 40,000 feet above the earth’s sea level, and then 50,000 feet above sea level. Just for the fun of it, Jack waved his black covered hand to the floating glowing craft. ‘I wonder if they can see me. He knew that the black gloves hid his white hands, so he wondered what kind of creatures were under their protective uniforms? A sense of companionship from flying creatures.
In less than a fraction of a miro-second, some lights lit up and blinked off. Jack had been trained to shoot enemy planes out of the sky and to drop bombs from his plane into a camp of the terrorists who believed that killing innocent civilizations who know not the spirit of war and destruction. Therefore, Jack was not trained to be a interstellar diplomat for creatures he could not even see or hear. ‘How am I going to communicate with them?’ he thought to himself. In a flash, the glowing crafted moved effortlessly around to the front of the airplane. ‘Oh great!’ thought Jack. Jack looked down at his weapon’s buttons, but he knew that he had not been fired upon, so maybe they were having some fun with him. So Jack said to himself, ‘Lets have some fun, you mysterious spacecraft.’
Jack guided the jet fighter to the right, at around 700 miles an hour. As the fighter jet glided to the right, the space craft stayed in front of him, as easily as two dragonflies that were flying above a lake, playing dodge and a bit of chicken in the air. ‘So you want to play games?’ thought Jack. The lights blinked again. Jack fearlessly starred at the space craft, as he thought to himself, ‘Are they mind-reading me?’ The lights blinked again. Jack lowered his airspeed, so too did the glowing craft. ‘What now?’ thought Jack.
Jack felt the need to put the plane on autopilot, so he did. Just as he pushed the autopilot button on, Jack saw two foggy glowing white balls of light in front of him. ‘No way!’ thought Jack. ‘I am moving at Mach 3. How in the heck are those two creatures moving along with me while as they seemingly just float in the air?’ But maybe they were not floating or flying. Maybe they were space-less and timeless entities that were kind of simply remaining still, while they were somehow linked to their own universe, while still moving at Mach 3 for humans.’ thought Jack. ‘Maybe to them, Mach 3 is slow.
In a second, his saw the two balls of dull glowing light go to each side of the jet fighter plane. Jack started to sweat. They moved closer to the windows, at Mach 3. ‘I guess they really want to play.’ thought Jack. ‘Or do they want to do something more?’ Jack began to feel a little funny, as in dizzy and lightheaded. ‘Oh no.’ thought Jack.
The two balls of glowing light were now in front of him, between the plane’s control panels and his flight suit. ‘What do you guys want?’ as the space craft floated next to the jet fighter plane. In a single moment of time, Jack forgot his whole human life. He forgot that he was flying an fighter airplane; a plane that was created for the sole purpose to kill people, on earth. And even though the human race was still a very primitive human race, Jack never like the idea of killing other people to solve human’s political and religious problems, even though sometimes there was no other choice, from the government’s viewpoint.
Jack felt his body become a floating entity of light and energy too. He felt his energy and light become one with the energy and light of the two floating and seemingly highly intelligent balls of light. Jack remembered that once a college professor asked him a question. ‘Jack, can one plus one equal one?’ While Jack was trying to think of all the possibilities, the professor answered, ‘Why yes. One cloud and one cloud when joined together equals one cloud. It is just a bigger cloud. Moreover, one plus one plus one can equals a bigger one! Which was proven by the three glowing entities that were now one.
In less than a second, Jack felt his energy and light become bigger and grandeur. His seemingly less material self was now at one with the creatures of light and energy. He heard their voiceless whispers, ‘We know you human earthlings are basically good. But there are those among you who kill and commit deathly crimes and destruction in the name of God and of heaven. This has to stop! God did not create earth for humans to kill themselves in the name of God. If God wanted people dead, God is big enough to kill people by itself. Neither God or the angels need crazy religious nut-job humans to kill other humans for it.
After 13,000,000,000, as in 13 billions years of cosmic evolution, (and in some viewpoints, devolution,) years of cosmic light and energy forming into one stage and another so planet earth could be created, so thinking people could think about God and heaven and even the seemingly solid material universe. (which it isn’t). They should do less killing and more thinking about God and the universe and true religion, along with peace among mankind. Please pass that message to all earthlings if you can, Jack.’
In a second, the two balls of intelligent light and energy were again floating in front of Jack as he regained his composure and thought, ‘Thanks guys. Even though no human will ever believe me.’ The two balls of floating light rapidly left the fighter jet and in a less of a second, they floated to the front of the jet fighter plane. They combined into one bigger light form, while they glowed even bigger than ever, just for fun. They returned to their space craft and then the craft disappeared into thin air.
Jack started to dream of a new mission for his retirement. He saw himself writing at a wooden desk, with bookcases surrounding him, and classical music playing, and his hand moving a fountain pen on paper instead of moving the control stick to a fighter jet. Spiritual ideas about world peace began flowing into his mind, just as if he was still attached to the glowing balls of light and true peaceful intelligence. He knew that he would try to listen to them from wherever he was writing for humans who knew not the true reason for human evolution.
He heard the radio blurt out, ‘Super Dodger. Calling Super Dodger. Are you ok Super Dodger? Please report back to the Command Center II.’ Jack reported back into the radio, ‘Super Dodger ok. Will report back to Command Center II. Will gladly report to Command Center II. Over and out!'
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr.'s Ambidextrous Brain + Mind.
An unusual day for Jack, the jet fighter pilot. Of course, being a jet fighter pilot is an unusual job, for anyone. But Jack had long ago heard and read stories of other jet fighter pilots who had seen weird shapes appear and disappear in and out of the sky; like strange bugs that fly faster per size than the jet fighter planes. Jack had his doubts about strange objects flying in and out of space like some strange creatures from an outer space movie. Nevertheless, an unusual day meant that Jack had an experience that was out of the ordinary, even for a jet fighter pilot.
Most people would agree that just being a jet fighter pilot is an unusual job for anyone to experience; so what else is new? Jack had dreamed of being a jet fighter pilot as a little boy. He would hold one end of a thick string, as the other end of the string was attached to a model airplane. He would sometimes spend hours building model airplanes. That is the wonder of being a child; the ability to dream without the world’s doubt holding you back from dreaming. Some people dream, while others do not dream. Maybe the secret to success is not letting the non-dreamers from stopping the dreamers from dreamers. Jack’s younger brother called such people dream breakers.
Jack would hold the string and twirl the plastic airplane around and around in a basic constant circular motion; even though he later learned that real airplanes have to deal with gravity and g-forces, and a lot of other stuff, like bullets in times of war. But to dream of sitting in the pilots seat of an airplane was only the beginning for Jack’s dreams. Every once in a while, a real plane or jet fighter would fly above his head as he twirled the plastic model airplane around and around. Soon, Jack realized that it was sort of a small miracle that a tons of steel could seemingly float through the air; even as the engines sucked air through the front and then pushed the air out the back. It was a bigger miracle of science and technology. As Jack stood on the ground, he knew that a part his brain somehow saw a tiny speck cruising through the sky; yet his logical mind knew that tons of steel were being uplifted into the air by some invisible principle. A wits of ideas over steel! Jack wanted to know more about airplanes and of the ideas of flight.
One day, Jack’s parents took him to an airplane show. There were biplanes, and World War II planes, and modern day jet planes, plus a Huey airplane; among other planes. As they were walking around the fair grounds, they stopped at a little red plane. The pilot of the plane was almost as long as the plane; it was only six feet long, yet it could travel four hundred miles an hour. The pilot was getting ready to fly the plane, but he was talking about the plane before he stepped into the plane. The pilot was describing that one bolt costs seventy-five dollars. Jack remembered that his dad would buy a whole box of bolts for less than 7 bucks, so those bolts must have been built out of some really strong metal.
Jack watched the pilot climb into the red mini-plane, he wondered what he would feel like if he was flying in that airplane at four hundred miles an hour. Would he feel like a human hummingbird or more like a fly? Maybe he would feel like a new kind of human; after all, the human brain did not seem as if it was built to fly in the sky at four hundred miles an hour.
Jack did not know what the pilot felt like as he flew the red mini-plane around in circles and even straight up towards the sun, but he thought to himself that he must be having fun, so Jack had decided to become a jet fighter pilot when he grew up. Jack started to take flying lessons at a local country farm’s dirt airfield. He had heard about an airfield at an old timer’s farm. So he walked over to the farmer to introduce himself. An older gentleman named Ed, 75 years old, walked out of the barn. After a short introduction, and after they started to talked about flying planes, Ed found it in his heart to give Jack flying lessons in exchange for labor help from Jack.
The first time Jack walked up to the plane, a Cessna 152, Ed showed Jack how to inspect the exterior of the physical plane, and after they were finished with checking the gasoline tank for water moisture, they stepped into the plane to sit in it chairs. When Ed looked over at the young Jack, he noticed the same moment of awe that he first experienced the first time he flew inside a plane. He hoped to exchange some wisdom to young Jack, as a gesture of kindness for his long flying life.
After Ed explained the instrument panel and the plane’s rubbers to Jack, it was the moment for action. As Ed pushed in the plane’s throttle for power, the plane started to move forward on the dirt road. Jack felt like it was like they were in a car, except for the whirling propeller. Ed told Jack to grab unto the steering handle, just so Jack could feel Ed’s handling of the plane. As the plane reached an easy 60 miles an hour, and then seventy miles an hour, Ed turned towards Jack to look at his facial expression as Ed slightly pulled back the plane’s handle less than an inch. The plane lifted above the dirt runway to hover above the ground only four feet. The plane flew over the ground just four feet, so the plane could pick up more speed, so it would be able to climb up to five thousand feet about sea level.
As Jack’s body felt at one with the plane, so too did his mind feel at one with the sky. Jack’s mind felt different in the sky than when he was walking on the dirt road. Instead of looking at the sky, he was in it. As Jack’s body was lifted up towards the sky, so too was Jack’s mind carried forward into a new state of awareness; like that of a creature without wings, yet flying in the sky, like a bird and a human. Now, he was a new creature, with a new lifting spirt which seem to arise from deep within his spiritual identity. His skin and bones body were unchanged before, during, and after the liftoff, but his mind sure had changed. Feeling a new kind of freedom while looking down towards the brown trees and blue water and dark roads and green grass, while seeing the white clouds in front of him, led Jack to forget the world for a few seconds as his mind transformed into a mind with new possibilities and a new future. Jack began to believe that angels do answer prayers because he had been praying for this moment ever since he began building model airplanes and watching airplanes flying over him. His earthly mind was carried forward to fly the heavenly skies, as a future pilot.
Ed looked over to Jack and asked him, ‘Well Jack, what does it feel like to be flying in the sky like a bird?’ Jack’s wide eyes looked over to Ed and responded, ‘Like a bird without wings.’ Ed chuckled as he replied, ‘Well, the airplanes has the wings, but people long ago dreamed of flying. So one day some dreamers did more than dream, the began to build experimental airplanes.
There is some debate about who really built the first airplane. Some people think the Wright Brothers started the whole business. But the two brothers had competitors that were also trying to become the first airplane builders. But the most important part of flying is the invisible principles of flight; such as the principle of lift versus gravity. Thinkers like Leonardo de Vinci started to think about flight long before the first plane was ever built. There is a lesson for you Jack. Thinkers are more important than builders, because you have to be thinking before, during, and after you fly an airplane. Of course, we need thinking builders too. Otherwise, we would not have the planes to fly. Builders have to be thinkers too. Without thinkers, we would not have planes to fly.’
Jack said, ‘I think about angels a lot.’
Ed said, ‘Yea, flying brings a sense of other flying creatures. But I do not think real angels have wings, because their sense of space and time and the seemingly material world is different than what we see with our human brain and human mind.’ Jack just looked at Ed and responded with, ‘But all of the paintings have creatures with wings.’ Ed said, ‘That is just the way humans symbolize creatures that they can not see, but believe exist. Most of those paintings were painted in religious times when planes and science did not exist. Here is a lesson on perspective Jack. If our human brains had developed structurally physiologically different, we would be seeing a completely different universe. Change your perspective, and we might see those angels of yours. But in any case, we would also be experiencing flying different; just as a hummingbird experiences flight different than us.’ Jack responded with an, ‘Oh.’
‘What is that dark spot in the sky? Jack asked Ed. Ed responded, ‘That is another airplane. Good eyes kid. You never know what you will see in the sky kid. Sometimes you see things that no one will ever believe. But you will understand that when you get older. Just remember that I told you so, if you ever fly jets at supersonic speeds. Space and time is different for different creatures of the universe. Do not be surprised if you see things in the sky, Jack. Do not be surprised!’
Ed told Jack that it was time to land the plane. ‘Getting off the ground is easy, Jack. The hard part is landing the airplane.’ As Jack looked at the ground below him, he realized that the plane was not slowing down. ‘Jack, we need to keep the plane at a certain speed and angle; otherwise it will stall, or do some other crazy stuff.’ Jack watched Ed guide the plane to the ground. As they exited the plane, they made plans for Jack to work the farm, and to fly again, with more lessons about flight, planes, life, and the possibilities of other universes which the brain can not see, but which it somehow realizes that exist because even the brain knows its own limitations. Otherwise, telescopes and microscopes would have never been invented.
Much later in his life, after Jack left high school and after he finished college for aerodynamics, he had joined the US Air-force. He worked his way up the ranks of private to naval pilot. Flying planes for the United States Air-force meant that Jack had to be physically fit and psychologically sound, but somehow, even the air force could not have prepared Jack for his unusual day.
Jack was older now, bigger and stronger too, plus much wiser and an experienced pilot. As he sat in the jet fighter plane, speeding pass the Mach 1 sound barrier caused him to focus straight ahead, until he saw the glowing disk in the sky. (Understand dear reader, that traveling at Mach 1 means going about 600 miles per hour or 1,062 kilometers per hour at 20,000 feet above sea level) As Jack headed faster towards Mach 2 and Mach 3, he wondered to himself, ‘I wonder what is going faster than me?’
The glowing object floated up to his side, flying right next to him. In one second, it disappeared from Jack’s vision and he wondered to himself if he had just experienced an hallucination. But he changed his mind after he looked outside from the other window, only to see the same glowing object floating next to him as if he were on a lake of water with another sailboat. Jack thought of rubbing his eyes, but the helmet prevented him from doing touching his face and he knew that if he blinked, the glowing object could simply disappear into the thin air. Of course, Jack had in a sense disappeared into thin air, in the eyes of people who were standing on the ground. Most of them would have heard only the sonic boom that the airplane creates as it moved air molecules around the plane.
But how could this floating glowing object not create any sound as it moved faster than the speed of sound? though Jack. ‘Maybe the speed of sound was different for this floating glowing object and its occupants. And what kind of occupants were sitting in the glowing object?’ thought Jack. His trained mind almost reacted to the glowing object by radioing into ground command, but who would believe him? He knew that for sure! Then, he remembered stories from other pilots and even that of Ed. ‘Do not be surprised by what you might see in the sky.’
In a blink of an eye, in the blink of a thought, Jack sensed a oneness with the glowing craft in the sky, a sense of fellowship and comradery with his flying friends. After all, how many people would be flying next to him, at 40,000 feet above the earth’s sea level, and then 50,000 feet above sea level. Just for the fun of it, Jack waved his black covered hand to the floating glowing craft. ‘I wonder if they can see me. He knew that the black gloves hid his white hands, so he wondered what kind of creatures were under their protective uniforms? A sense of companionship from flying creatures.
In less than a fraction of a miro-second, some lights lit up and blinked off. Jack had been trained to shoot enemy planes out of the sky and to drop bombs from his plane into a camp of the terrorists who believed that killing innocent civilizations who know not the spirit of war and destruction. Therefore, Jack was not trained to be a interstellar diplomat for creatures he could not even see or hear. ‘How am I going to communicate with them?’ he thought to himself. In a flash, the glowing crafted moved effortlessly around to the front of the airplane. ‘Oh great!’ thought Jack. Jack looked down at his weapon’s buttons, but he knew that he had not been fired upon, so maybe they were having some fun with him. So Jack said to himself, ‘Lets have some fun, you mysterious spacecraft.’
Jack guided the jet fighter to the right, at around 700 miles an hour. As the fighter jet glided to the right, the space craft stayed in front of him, as easily as two dragonflies that were flying above a lake, playing dodge and a bit of chicken in the air. ‘So you want to play games?’ thought Jack. The lights blinked again. Jack fearlessly starred at the space craft, as he thought to himself, ‘Are they mind-reading me?’ The lights blinked again. Jack lowered his airspeed, so too did the glowing craft. ‘What now?’ thought Jack.
Jack felt the need to put the plane on autopilot, so he did. Just as he pushed the autopilot button on, Jack saw two foggy glowing white balls of light in front of him. ‘No way!’ thought Jack. ‘I am moving at Mach 3. How in the heck are those two creatures moving along with me while as they seemingly just float in the air?’ But maybe they were not floating or flying. Maybe they were space-less and timeless entities that were kind of simply remaining still, while they were somehow linked to their own universe, while still moving at Mach 3 for humans.’ thought Jack. ‘Maybe to them, Mach 3 is slow.
In a second, his saw the two balls of dull glowing light go to each side of the jet fighter plane. Jack started to sweat. They moved closer to the windows, at Mach 3. ‘I guess they really want to play.’ thought Jack. ‘Or do they want to do something more?’ Jack began to feel a little funny, as in dizzy and lightheaded. ‘Oh no.’ thought Jack.
The two balls of glowing light were now in front of him, between the plane’s control panels and his flight suit. ‘What do you guys want?’ as the space craft floated next to the jet fighter plane. In a single moment of time, Jack forgot his whole human life. He forgot that he was flying an fighter airplane; a plane that was created for the sole purpose to kill people, on earth. And even though the human race was still a very primitive human race, Jack never like the idea of killing other people to solve human’s political and religious problems, even though sometimes there was no other choice, from the government’s viewpoint.
Jack felt his body become a floating entity of light and energy too. He felt his energy and light become one with the energy and light of the two floating and seemingly highly intelligent balls of light. Jack remembered that once a college professor asked him a question. ‘Jack, can one plus one equal one?’ While Jack was trying to think of all the possibilities, the professor answered, ‘Why yes. One cloud and one cloud when joined together equals one cloud. It is just a bigger cloud. Moreover, one plus one plus one can equals a bigger one! Which was proven by the three glowing entities that were now one.
In less than a second, Jack felt his energy and light become bigger and grandeur. His seemingly less material self was now at one with the creatures of light and energy. He heard their voiceless whispers, ‘We know you human earthlings are basically good. But there are those among you who kill and commit deathly crimes and destruction in the name of God and of heaven. This has to stop! God did not create earth for humans to kill themselves in the name of God. If God wanted people dead, God is big enough to kill people by itself. Neither God or the angels need crazy religious nut-job humans to kill other humans for it.
After 13,000,000,000, as in 13 billions years of cosmic evolution, (and in some viewpoints, devolution,) years of cosmic light and energy forming into one stage and another so planet earth could be created, so thinking people could think about God and heaven and even the seemingly solid material universe. (which it isn’t). They should do less killing and more thinking about God and the universe and true religion, along with peace among mankind. Please pass that message to all earthlings if you can, Jack.’
In a second, the two balls of intelligent light and energy were again floating in front of Jack as he regained his composure and thought, ‘Thanks guys. Even though no human will ever believe me.’ The two balls of floating light rapidly left the fighter jet and in a less of a second, they floated to the front of the jet fighter plane. They combined into one bigger light form, while they glowed even bigger than ever, just for fun. They returned to their space craft and then the craft disappeared into thin air.
Jack started to dream of a new mission for his retirement. He saw himself writing at a wooden desk, with bookcases surrounding him, and classical music playing, and his hand moving a fountain pen on paper instead of moving the control stick to a fighter jet. Spiritual ideas about world peace began flowing into his mind, just as if he was still attached to the glowing balls of light and true peaceful intelligence. He knew that he would try to listen to them from wherever he was writing for humans who knew not the true reason for human evolution.
He heard the radio blurt out, ‘Super Dodger. Calling Super Dodger. Are you ok Super Dodger? Please report back to the Command Center II.’ Jack reported back into the radio, ‘Super Dodger ok. Will report back to Command Center II. Will gladly report to Command Center II. Over and out!'
Sunday, May 13, 2007
Carol The Car Mechanic
52 Stories in 52 Weeks: ## 19 Carol The Car Mechanic
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr.'s Ambidextrous Brain + Mind
Every morning, Carol awoke up with a smile on her face, even though she knew that she would be facing a world of men and machines; that is, car engines. As she looked in the mirror, she purposefully smiled a wider smile. She smiled because a new life started to unfold for her. A new job in a new city caused Carol to smile even wider, as looked into the mirror. Carol constantly remembered her dad’s bit of wisdom, ‘At the end of everyday, at the end of your life, you have to be able to look in the mirror’s eyes because you are the only person you will really have to answer to.’ Of course, her mom would also tell her, ‘You also have to answer to the angels!’
When Carol was a little girl, she had first tried to stare into the mirror, into the mirror’s eyes, that were truly her eyes. Carol’s first moment of self-reflection felt strange, as if she had just entered into a self psychic zone. At first, she would not stare into her the mirror’s eyes, being afraid of what she would find hidden within her own mind, within her own soul. As she sensed her freshly showered skin, she had realized that her childhood mind was almost as clean as her bathed body. ‘What could be located deep inside her own mind that might scare her if she discovered some new quality about herself, even as a little girl?’ she thought. Yet, Carol returned to starring into the mirror’s eyes. Avoiding the white’s of her eyes, looking into the darkness of the iris, she saw no visions of good or evil. She felt as clean as a new sheet of writing paper. She realized that since she was like a new sheet of writing paper, she better careful what she would record on her seemingly invisible mirrored soul.
Carol the adult also learned to looked into the eyes of all creatures, just to see what they might be hiding from the world. Some people were excellent at hiding evil, and even their good intentions; while other people easily opened up their minds to Carol. It was the same with car engines. Some car problems were easy to find and solve, while other car problems were not easy to find and solve; just as a psychiatrist would search for what is bothering a patient, so would Carol have to search for what was wrong with a car’s engine. There was the normal ordered process of, analyzing, uncovering, and correcting the car’s problem. Every system was different. There were the electrical systems, the exhaust system, the computer systems, the engine’s systems, etc., etc., etc., One hole in one hose could plainly ruin the whole car from operating correctly.
That seemed to be the same way for people’s minds too. One moment gone wrong could change a person’s whole life, for better or for worse; until the day that they stopped breathing; and even beyond their last breath.
Looking into the eyes of men became a habit from her youth. Carol had learned how people hid so many good and evil intentions behind their eyes; as if most people were made up of basic qualities of a certain human-selfhood and a certain animal-selfhood. It seemed to Carol as if all human had to choose between the two selfhoods; that is the reptile brain and the human brain, between being a caveman or a futuristic human. At least in their dreams. Carol had noticed how some of her childhood friends were kind, gentle, and book-wise, while other children seemed lost in a maze of uncivilized behavior. She simply divided a person’s selfhood into two possible qualities; human or animal. It seemed that simple!
As Carol stepped onto the city’s sidewalk, she glared over the tall buildings of glass, steel, stone, and brick. The city had no eyes, but some of the very tall glass buildings seemed to reflect part of the city’s soul. Carol knew that most people thought that a city was only material buildings, plus people made of skin and bones. But Carol knew better! Once when Carol was a little girl, her parents and she visited New York City - the Big Apple. Carol remembered how she sensed the different airy atmosphere’s around each of Manhattan’s mini-cities. Little Italy. Soho. The Financial District. Harlem. Each part of the big city seemed to have a different kind of life, a different culture, a different history, a different soul. And yet, they were all connected to each other; because that is how life is on planet earth.
As Carol drove up to the garage, she saw the huge dirty,-yellowish rectangle sign on the building. The bold black letters glared with white circles in the letters. GREG’S AUTO REPAIR AND SERVICE CENTER. Carol walked into the front door and smiled at her new boss. After the normal greetings, she walked through the door that led to the eight station garage. One of the guys looked up and yelled at Carol, ‘Hey lady, the waiting room is on the other side of the building. Carol yelled back, ‘Thanks, but I already know that.’ The guy shut up as Carol forcefully walked pass him into the ladies room. After Carol changed her clothes, she looked into the mirror’s eyes, and told herself, ‘Whatever happens, keep your integrity.’ Of course, the guys were a bit confused; especially when she returned to the garage wearing her used overalls. She smiled at the guys as she walked passed them, into the bosses’ office. After she survived the first day, after she had looked into the eyes of men, she would know who was what; what kind of person.
As the Carol and the boss walked back to the garage, some of the of guys were talking in a group circle. The boss walked up to the group circle and said, ‘I want to introduce Carol to you. She will be replacing Joe at station three. The boss named off the guys’ names as it pointed to each of them. I expect that there will be no problems among you. You can get to know each other better later. We have rows of cars that have to be work on, so treat Carol as a co-worker and help her anytime she needs it. Any questions? None! Good! Frank is the crew chief, so he will be helping you out.’ No one said a word. Everyone returned to work on their cars.
Carol and Frank walked to the car in the third station and they discussed the car’s problem. Frank left Carol alone. As she started loading her tools from her car to her personal tall red tool box inside the garage, the radio music echoed in the background. Nevertheless, a certain silence melted through the air. Carol looked at the car before she walked into the car. As she sat I the driver’s seat, she turned the key to start the engine. Nothing happened. Carol guessed that maybe the battery was dead, or maybe the alternator was not charging the battery, or maybe the starter was dead, or maybe a computer relay switch was broken. In any case, she knew what she had to do, so she did it.
Lunch time arrived very soon. Everyone washed up and almost everyone walked over to the break room. One wall was lined up with coffee and soda machines and candy machines and sandwich machines and even a microwave on a side table. A long, rather thin white painted table was located in the center of the break room. After everyone either bought or prepared their home made food, they all sat down and they started to chat. One loud mouth, a guy named Harry, was the first to open his mouth. ‘Hey blonde, what is up with you? Shouldn’t you be working in an office?’ Carol looked at Harry, after she remembered the mirror’s eyes.
Just as a lady would politely, yet a bit cocky would state, ‘Well sir, for your information, I have been working on cars in my dad’s garage ever since I was little girl. Harry’s eyes lowered themselves to the table as he pretended to stare at his food The room became silent as the guys realized that a car mechanic and a lady sat next to them. They feared to speak, to question, to drill Carol about her decision to work as a car mechanic. A few of the guys small talked as Carol opened up a book about cars. As she read the book, she turned towards Harry and she said, ‘Well Harry, do you like Corvettes or Porsche better? You know, for street racing. Harry slowly lifted his head and said, ‘What? You race cars too?’ Carol smiled at Harry as she looked straight into his eyes. Harry froze, waiting for an answer.
Carol looked into Harry’s eyes. A magical moment between two car lovers. Carol became still as she listened to the voice that was screaming out of Harry’s eyes. She saw a dreamer who to afraid to fulfill his dreams, but there was a sense of pain too. ‘Well Harry, do you race cars? A few of the guys laughed. ‘No, he does not race, but he collects racing cards. Do you want to see them?’ Carol shook her head up and down as she said ‘Yes.’ Harry stood up and left the room. He returned to the break room with a few boxes of cards. While looking at a few of the cards: an old black Ford Model T, a yellow 1960 Corvette, and an Indianapolis 500 race car, the boss walked into the break room, ‘Lunch time if over.’ Everyone returned to working on their cars.
At closing time, everyone walked out to their cars, so they could drive home. Carol bumped into Harry as they walked out of the garage. ‘So what do you drive, hotshot?’ Carol asked Harry. I drive that old pick-up truck my dad gave me. What do you drive.’ Carol started to walk towards her car. Harry’s eyes opened wide and his mouth open wide as his jaw dropped a bit as he glared at Carol’s car. A bright blue paint job, with flaming red and yellow flames that started wide from the front and ended with points at the end of the car. The dual shiny silver exhaust pipes were wide and the new extra wide rear black tires stood out too.
‘Do you want to go for a ride?’ Carol asked Harry. ‘Sure, why not.’ with a new smile on his face. They hopped into the car. Harry felt the feel of real racing seats as he looked at the solid black dashboard with the racing gauges. ‘Wow.’ was all Harry could say. Carol turned the ignition’s key and the engine began to purr as if a kitten was under the hood. As Carol’s feet alternated between pushing down on the gas peddle and clutch peddle, her hand moved the gearstick, like a pro. ‘Where did you buy the car?’ Harry asked Carol. Carol replied, ‘Oh, I built it with the help of my dad and his friends.’
As the car exited the parking lot, Carol said, ‘I heard about a racing strip from one of the other guys; lets check it out.’ As Carol drove the car through the rush hour traffic, a few car horns sounded off. As they approached the racing strip, a couple of racing cars were surrounded by some people. As Carol and Harry approached them, Carol slowed her car down to a silent roar. One of the guys jumped through his car’s window, because his car’s door was welded closed; for safety reasons. Carol knew what that meant. She knew that it meant two race car drivers who had not only built their racing cars, but who also wanted to prove who had built faster car, but who was the best race car driver. They all knew that it was a test of wills between a male and a female.
As they lined up at the starting line, Carol looked into the rearview mirror’s eyes, into her own soul. She remembered her dad’s words, ‘No car race is worth dying for.’ But that advise never stopped her from flooring the gas peddle and shifting the gears as fast as she could move her hands and feet. From 0 to 60 miles an hour within four seconds was a trick of the relationship between human and machine. It seemed as if neither the one or the other could exist without the other. Machines were made and needed by men, (and women), but machines also seemed to take on a life of their own for the world of skin and bones, and brains.
At 90 miles an hour, she sensed the moment as the car reached 100 miles an hour. A pop from the other car’s tire caused her competitor’s car to flip over and over and over again, straight into Carol’s car. Her competitor’s car caught on fire, as Carol’s car flip over and over again, until it rested, un-side down. As their bodies laid still, their minds transformed from one state of consciousness to another, as they remained the same unchangeable identity. The great divide between two worlds, between two universes, where the dead slowly experience a new realm after they stopped breathing. Hatching into a new world, just as a baby chicken that hatches from its enclose white shell of an unrealistic protected and closed world, to a wide opened world of time and space, and wild creatures.
‘So we meet again.’ Carol thought to Harry. A silent laugh was all Harry could return to Carol, as they bumped into each other without skin and bones. They embraced and began to dance in a spiraling and twirling whirlwind high above the crashed cars, as they noticed the police cars and the fire trucks and the ambulances arriving on the chaotic scene. They also heard all of the noisy racket as they felt their souls become one; above life, above death. They saw dreams of a family, dreams of owning their own garage one day, dreams of living on earth before they twirled around together once again, one day, if it was meant to be. But for now, they were in love! A moment of unspeakable love, as if destiny had created the moment for two lonely souls.
As they felt their bodies laying in the ambulance’s beds, they reached out to hold each other’s hands; as they both knew that their lives would never be the same, ever again!
Check out the DVD movie, "DUMA."
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr.'s Ambidextrous Brain + Mind
Every morning, Carol awoke up with a smile on her face, even though she knew that she would be facing a world of men and machines; that is, car engines. As she looked in the mirror, she purposefully smiled a wider smile. She smiled because a new life started to unfold for her. A new job in a new city caused Carol to smile even wider, as looked into the mirror. Carol constantly remembered her dad’s bit of wisdom, ‘At the end of everyday, at the end of your life, you have to be able to look in the mirror’s eyes because you are the only person you will really have to answer to.’ Of course, her mom would also tell her, ‘You also have to answer to the angels!’
When Carol was a little girl, she had first tried to stare into the mirror, into the mirror’s eyes, that were truly her eyes. Carol’s first moment of self-reflection felt strange, as if she had just entered into a self psychic zone. At first, she would not stare into her the mirror’s eyes, being afraid of what she would find hidden within her own mind, within her own soul. As she sensed her freshly showered skin, she had realized that her childhood mind was almost as clean as her bathed body. ‘What could be located deep inside her own mind that might scare her if she discovered some new quality about herself, even as a little girl?’ she thought. Yet, Carol returned to starring into the mirror’s eyes. Avoiding the white’s of her eyes, looking into the darkness of the iris, she saw no visions of good or evil. She felt as clean as a new sheet of writing paper. She realized that since she was like a new sheet of writing paper, she better careful what she would record on her seemingly invisible mirrored soul.
Carol the adult also learned to looked into the eyes of all creatures, just to see what they might be hiding from the world. Some people were excellent at hiding evil, and even their good intentions; while other people easily opened up their minds to Carol. It was the same with car engines. Some car problems were easy to find and solve, while other car problems were not easy to find and solve; just as a psychiatrist would search for what is bothering a patient, so would Carol have to search for what was wrong with a car’s engine. There was the normal ordered process of, analyzing, uncovering, and correcting the car’s problem. Every system was different. There were the electrical systems, the exhaust system, the computer systems, the engine’s systems, etc., etc., etc., One hole in one hose could plainly ruin the whole car from operating correctly.
That seemed to be the same way for people’s minds too. One moment gone wrong could change a person’s whole life, for better or for worse; until the day that they stopped breathing; and even beyond their last breath.
Looking into the eyes of men became a habit from her youth. Carol had learned how people hid so many good and evil intentions behind their eyes; as if most people were made up of basic qualities of a certain human-selfhood and a certain animal-selfhood. It seemed to Carol as if all human had to choose between the two selfhoods; that is the reptile brain and the human brain, between being a caveman or a futuristic human. At least in their dreams. Carol had noticed how some of her childhood friends were kind, gentle, and book-wise, while other children seemed lost in a maze of uncivilized behavior. She simply divided a person’s selfhood into two possible qualities; human or animal. It seemed that simple!
As Carol stepped onto the city’s sidewalk, she glared over the tall buildings of glass, steel, stone, and brick. The city had no eyes, but some of the very tall glass buildings seemed to reflect part of the city’s soul. Carol knew that most people thought that a city was only material buildings, plus people made of skin and bones. But Carol knew better! Once when Carol was a little girl, her parents and she visited New York City - the Big Apple. Carol remembered how she sensed the different airy atmosphere’s around each of Manhattan’s mini-cities. Little Italy. Soho. The Financial District. Harlem. Each part of the big city seemed to have a different kind of life, a different culture, a different history, a different soul. And yet, they were all connected to each other; because that is how life is on planet earth.
As Carol drove up to the garage, she saw the huge dirty,-yellowish rectangle sign on the building. The bold black letters glared with white circles in the letters. GREG’S AUTO REPAIR AND SERVICE CENTER. Carol walked into the front door and smiled at her new boss. After the normal greetings, she walked through the door that led to the eight station garage. One of the guys looked up and yelled at Carol, ‘Hey lady, the waiting room is on the other side of the building. Carol yelled back, ‘Thanks, but I already know that.’ The guy shut up as Carol forcefully walked pass him into the ladies room. After Carol changed her clothes, she looked into the mirror’s eyes, and told herself, ‘Whatever happens, keep your integrity.’ Of course, the guys were a bit confused; especially when she returned to the garage wearing her used overalls. She smiled at the guys as she walked passed them, into the bosses’ office. After she survived the first day, after she had looked into the eyes of men, she would know who was what; what kind of person.
As the Carol and the boss walked back to the garage, some of the of guys were talking in a group circle. The boss walked up to the group circle and said, ‘I want to introduce Carol to you. She will be replacing Joe at station three. The boss named off the guys’ names as it pointed to each of them. I expect that there will be no problems among you. You can get to know each other better later. We have rows of cars that have to be work on, so treat Carol as a co-worker and help her anytime she needs it. Any questions? None! Good! Frank is the crew chief, so he will be helping you out.’ No one said a word. Everyone returned to work on their cars.
Carol and Frank walked to the car in the third station and they discussed the car’s problem. Frank left Carol alone. As she started loading her tools from her car to her personal tall red tool box inside the garage, the radio music echoed in the background. Nevertheless, a certain silence melted through the air. Carol looked at the car before she walked into the car. As she sat I the driver’s seat, she turned the key to start the engine. Nothing happened. Carol guessed that maybe the battery was dead, or maybe the alternator was not charging the battery, or maybe the starter was dead, or maybe a computer relay switch was broken. In any case, she knew what she had to do, so she did it.
Lunch time arrived very soon. Everyone washed up and almost everyone walked over to the break room. One wall was lined up with coffee and soda machines and candy machines and sandwich machines and even a microwave on a side table. A long, rather thin white painted table was located in the center of the break room. After everyone either bought or prepared their home made food, they all sat down and they started to chat. One loud mouth, a guy named Harry, was the first to open his mouth. ‘Hey blonde, what is up with you? Shouldn’t you be working in an office?’ Carol looked at Harry, after she remembered the mirror’s eyes.
Just as a lady would politely, yet a bit cocky would state, ‘Well sir, for your information, I have been working on cars in my dad’s garage ever since I was little girl. Harry’s eyes lowered themselves to the table as he pretended to stare at his food The room became silent as the guys realized that a car mechanic and a lady sat next to them. They feared to speak, to question, to drill Carol about her decision to work as a car mechanic. A few of the guys small talked as Carol opened up a book about cars. As she read the book, she turned towards Harry and she said, ‘Well Harry, do you like Corvettes or Porsche better? You know, for street racing. Harry slowly lifted his head and said, ‘What? You race cars too?’ Carol smiled at Harry as she looked straight into his eyes. Harry froze, waiting for an answer.
Carol looked into Harry’s eyes. A magical moment between two car lovers. Carol became still as she listened to the voice that was screaming out of Harry’s eyes. She saw a dreamer who to afraid to fulfill his dreams, but there was a sense of pain too. ‘Well Harry, do you race cars? A few of the guys laughed. ‘No, he does not race, but he collects racing cards. Do you want to see them?’ Carol shook her head up and down as she said ‘Yes.’ Harry stood up and left the room. He returned to the break room with a few boxes of cards. While looking at a few of the cards: an old black Ford Model T, a yellow 1960 Corvette, and an Indianapolis 500 race car, the boss walked into the break room, ‘Lunch time if over.’ Everyone returned to working on their cars.
At closing time, everyone walked out to their cars, so they could drive home. Carol bumped into Harry as they walked out of the garage. ‘So what do you drive, hotshot?’ Carol asked Harry. I drive that old pick-up truck my dad gave me. What do you drive.’ Carol started to walk towards her car. Harry’s eyes opened wide and his mouth open wide as his jaw dropped a bit as he glared at Carol’s car. A bright blue paint job, with flaming red and yellow flames that started wide from the front and ended with points at the end of the car. The dual shiny silver exhaust pipes were wide and the new extra wide rear black tires stood out too.
‘Do you want to go for a ride?’ Carol asked Harry. ‘Sure, why not.’ with a new smile on his face. They hopped into the car. Harry felt the feel of real racing seats as he looked at the solid black dashboard with the racing gauges. ‘Wow.’ was all Harry could say. Carol turned the ignition’s key and the engine began to purr as if a kitten was under the hood. As Carol’s feet alternated between pushing down on the gas peddle and clutch peddle, her hand moved the gearstick, like a pro. ‘Where did you buy the car?’ Harry asked Carol. Carol replied, ‘Oh, I built it with the help of my dad and his friends.’
As the car exited the parking lot, Carol said, ‘I heard about a racing strip from one of the other guys; lets check it out.’ As Carol drove the car through the rush hour traffic, a few car horns sounded off. As they approached the racing strip, a couple of racing cars were surrounded by some people. As Carol and Harry approached them, Carol slowed her car down to a silent roar. One of the guys jumped through his car’s window, because his car’s door was welded closed; for safety reasons. Carol knew what that meant. She knew that it meant two race car drivers who had not only built their racing cars, but who also wanted to prove who had built faster car, but who was the best race car driver. They all knew that it was a test of wills between a male and a female.
As they lined up at the starting line, Carol looked into the rearview mirror’s eyes, into her own soul. She remembered her dad’s words, ‘No car race is worth dying for.’ But that advise never stopped her from flooring the gas peddle and shifting the gears as fast as she could move her hands and feet. From 0 to 60 miles an hour within four seconds was a trick of the relationship between human and machine. It seemed as if neither the one or the other could exist without the other. Machines were made and needed by men, (and women), but machines also seemed to take on a life of their own for the world of skin and bones, and brains.
At 90 miles an hour, she sensed the moment as the car reached 100 miles an hour. A pop from the other car’s tire caused her competitor’s car to flip over and over and over again, straight into Carol’s car. Her competitor’s car caught on fire, as Carol’s car flip over and over again, until it rested, un-side down. As their bodies laid still, their minds transformed from one state of consciousness to another, as they remained the same unchangeable identity. The great divide between two worlds, between two universes, where the dead slowly experience a new realm after they stopped breathing. Hatching into a new world, just as a baby chicken that hatches from its enclose white shell of an unrealistic protected and closed world, to a wide opened world of time and space, and wild creatures.
‘So we meet again.’ Carol thought to Harry. A silent laugh was all Harry could return to Carol, as they bumped into each other without skin and bones. They embraced and began to dance in a spiraling and twirling whirlwind high above the crashed cars, as they noticed the police cars and the fire trucks and the ambulances arriving on the chaotic scene. They also heard all of the noisy racket as they felt their souls become one; above life, above death. They saw dreams of a family, dreams of owning their own garage one day, dreams of living on earth before they twirled around together once again, one day, if it was meant to be. But for now, they were in love! A moment of unspeakable love, as if destiny had created the moment for two lonely souls.
As they felt their bodies laying in the ambulance’s beds, they reached out to hold each other’s hands; as they both knew that their lives would never be the same, ever again!
Check out the DVD movie, "DUMA."
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Brady's Special Bike Ride
52 Stories in 52 Weeks: ## 18 Brady’s Special Bike Ride
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr.'s Ambidextrous Brain + Mind.
Brady the bike rider, always sensed the danger of habitually riding his bike almost every other day, even as he sneakily caught the glares of all those older gentleman who normally left their bicycles somewhere in their childhood memories. The two dangers was real enough. The first danger of crashing into a road or by getting hit by a speeding car seemed less physical than the second danger of being gossiped about by the grow up men who had probably never rode a bike throughout their whole lifetime, but who might have dodged bullets for America’s freedom. ‘How could they remember the thrill of a childhood’s freedom after they had experienced the bloody and deadly hell of the major worlds of long ago?’ Brady would ask himself. Nor would they have risked their lives with the dangers of riding a bike on roads and streets that were built for cars and trucks; so they would stay home, only to watch Brady habitually ride his bike pass their homes, almost every other day.
To see the stares of men who had long ago forgotten or who had never known the spirit of freedom: because they had never rode a bike to explore their childhood neighborhoods or because of the belief of being old, of dying of death. Bray saw the stiffness in their bodies as they worked on their cars in their front yards, along with the stiffness of their minds. But Brady’s body and mind were not stiff. Brady could also hear the silent whispers of those whose people who had never caught the thrill of the wind on their skin, or who had not felt the speed in their night dreams. Therefore, they could not began to know why Brady would ride his bike for the fun if it. Yet, as Brady grew older, he had consciously had kept a tiny part of his childhood as a reminder that youth can still be part of one’s soul, a soul that knows nothing of age and gray hair. But there was more to the spirit of an adventurous child’s spirit besides hopping onto the bike’s seat to explore the neighborhood, to seek out new foods, new games, new friends, even nature’s life.
Brady would carefully normally dressed up in his bike uniform to make his bike ride an official statement of purpose. In his mature years, he normally wore an old pair of very pocketed shorts, and a white tee shirt, and an old pair of sneakers, and a yellow wind breaker and a yellow helmet. But in his younger years, he would have normally worn official bike clothes; black tights under biking shorts to protect his butt from the bike seat, a very bright yellow bike shirt to be seen by car drivers, bike gloves to protect his hands if he fell on the street, and a bike helmet to protect his skull and brain. It was a biking uniform for himself and for those who saw him peddling down the street.
Putting on the bike uniform prepared him mentally for the seemingly simple act of peddling down the street or path, but Brady knew that a split second could change his whole life, forever. So many quick decisions to be made when one is riding a bike, just as when one is driving a car, or trading a stock in the stock market, or when opening one’s mouth to speak a word to people who do not understand the real purpose of America’s freedom. Many bikers have experienced that single fraction of a second, when they knew that their bones were going to be crushed by a crash; as if their fleshy bodies were being thrown over the handle bars just as a piece of jelly would be tossed out a car’s window, to spat on the hard street, or a sharp rock, or even into a moving car. Brady knew that even the three pound brain could not disobey the laws of physics, even if the spirit of freedom ruled his invisible soul. Of course, because Brady truly knew something about his own spiritual life; along with the spiritual life of the universe. His understanding of the higher laws of life would overcome even the so-called laws of physics, and even death itself. What a funny thing was that concept of death! Two thousand years ago, a man named Jesus laughed at death too; to prove to the world that there is no death, but people still believe in death, instead of eternal life. Brady understood something about eternal life, but he was not ready to stop breathing just yet.
Each time Brady lifted his bike or walked it out the wooded door, his mental defenses automatically rose to a higher level, to a level of the Boy Scouts Motto, ‘Be Prepared.’ Brady realized that the Boy Scout Motto was meant for camping when he camped as a boy scout, with his dad and brother. But he knew that the greatest of all warriors have to be prepared for times of battle, even for the simple battles of life. Nevertheless, Brady knew that being prepared against others was at times, nothing compared to being prepared against one’s own decisions in life, especially when he was racing down a hill at 65 miles an hour; with the laws of physics in front of him, a hopeful prayer inside him, with life around him, death riding next to him, and angels flying over him. To make decisions when your speed and time are constantly changing is a tricky business. When all you see in front of you is the hard, cold, and dull cement or paved road speeding by you, as you are making decisions as if you were a fighter jet pilot, but without the safety of air to gently parachute you to the ground.
One of Brady’s favorite streets to ride on was located on the edge of a very long lake. The road split into Y, when Brady always had to choose between going left or going right. Riding the right road of the Y meant Brady would get to see the people partying at their boat houses and cottages; along with the sailboats and speed boats floating on the lake water. The warm sun would be heating up the air with just the correct temperature, a perfect warm between hot and cold. The dream temperature when a person is not really aware of the difference between hot and cold because the air was perfectly warm. Brady always took the right road in the Y because he liked the perfect warm temperature of the road, neither to hot or to cold. He also like the speed of the road, neither to fast or to slow. But the weather never stays at the perfect temperature forever, and neither does a bike ride. As the old saying goes, ‘Only a storm truly makes a sailor.’ or paraphrased, ‘Only a real bike ride makes a biker.’
As Brady rode his bike on that paved street, he always looked at the left road in the road’s Y. The problem with this road was that it led to the upward bound road of a tall and very steep mountain; a road with a struggle. As a matter of fact, Brady could not even see the top of this mountain, nor behind the first ten feet of the road. ‘A mysterious road!’ thought Brady; because he had no idea what kind of curves or how high it was. And more importantly, Brady deeply questioned if he could peddle his bike all the way to the top of the mountain, without quitting. (An ego issue) Brady had passed that left road in the fork of the road so many times, because he was partly worried that he might not make it to the top. But more important than that, he knew how much energy it would take to get to the top of this very high and long windy road which lead to the top of the mountain. But he also knew, in the depth of his mind, that he would be facing death when he raced down the mountain. Brady did not even know if the scene at the top of the mountain was even worth the bike ride.
Sometimes our life decisions and goals in life are like that. We see a new personal goal that we think might led to a better life, but we forget the new goal because we know that itmight be hard work, maybe even painful work. And we do not know if all of our hard work will be worth it at the end. As a matter of fact, sometimes we just see all of the hard work without seeing the end result because we do not know what the end result will be, at the end. The end of what? Yet, every ending is a new beginning to something new!
Brady had passed the road so many times, that he began to get tired of passing it. There it was, a sight of ten feet of road before it disappeared into a curve with trees and bushes on both sides of the road. The road disappeared into a curve that pointed up to a steeper angle. Brady thought to himself that it was just so much easier to peddle down the straight away lake road, instead peddling up the mountain road. How many times do we have to make a decision in our lives, to take the easy way or the hard way. How many people take the easy path in life because they do not want to work, or they are scared to fail, or even to succeed. How many people just want to breath, like the trees and bushes on the side of the road.
But Brady just knew that he had no choice! That one day he was going to bike ride up that unknown mountain road, because it was there to ride. Brady thought to himself, ‘If I get exhausted, if I have to quit, I can always stop and turn around go back down the hill. Then, I can try again another day.’ But he knew, he really knew, that once he started to peddle up that mountain, there was no stopping, no going back, no quitting for any reason; unless he was hit by a car or truck, in which case he would be riding down the hill in an ambulance. Of course, there were other possibilities as well. Like if his heart gave out!
So many times before, Brady had looked at ten feet of road with no end in sight, except of the invisible sight of the climb. He could not see the climb, but he knew it was there, like a life teaser which is begging you to try a new path in your life; almost like those tv information commercials, ‘Need an exercise machine? Just send in your $300 and we will send you an exercise bike for your house, but without the lake.’ Why not buy a real bike? thought Brady. But he knew that sometimes an exercise bike was better than no bike at all, especially to escape biking in really bad weather.
Not once, but every time Brady had passed that first ten feet of road, it ate at him like a mental cancer. He would always pass that first ten feet, opting out for the easy road; the road without the pain, without the struggle. On a Sunday afternoon, why work when you can take the easy path. After all, isn’t that what Sunday afternoons are for, to relax and not to work? A warm, sunny Sunday afternoon with sail boats on the lake, with people visiting their summer houses and their summer cottages. Happy people who are so happy because they are not wearing their business suits, or their blue collar work clothes, and more importantly, working people who are happy to be with their families, the payoff for all of their hard work. Brady like to feel that happiness on the weekends. He did not want to feel the pain in his legs and in his lungs and in his brain. He would be very happy as he rode along the happy road, as if that happy lake road was normally better than the lonely and painful ride up the hill.
Life is like that too! We see everyone having fun, and we want to have fun too. Few people want to take the lonely road which will lead them away from the fun times, especially if pain and loneliness was pointing to an unseen end result. But every time Brady had passed by the first ten feet of the road, he would always wonder to himself, as he peddled along the happy road, ‘I wonder what is at the top of the mountain? What kind of view will be there, at the end of long path of struggle up a seemingly invincible mountain road?
But he knew what was at the end of the happy road. There was an old country store with food, drinks, ice cream, and other goodies. That was the pay off for the easy ride. Of course, Brady would have to peddle back home, so he would be burning off of that prized food. He knew that when he arrived home, he would not be winded and sore physically. But, there would be a burning headache that would bug him all week long, even if he was not aware of it during his busy week.
But of course, one Sunday, Brady started out on the normal easy Sunday bike ride, just as he had for a hundred times before. But a funny thing happened. As he peddled towards the Y in front of him, he looked at it and said to himself, ‘What the heck.’ as he turned left instead of right. So as he turned the bike’s handle bars, he had no doubt that he was going to make it to the top of the mountain. ‘The invisible painful headache would be gone one way or another.’ he thought to himself. Brady knew that it would be a Sunday of work instead of pleasure, but so be it. Brady looked down at his eighteen gears and the 1/4 inch wide wheels. His hand reached out to touch the gear shifters, and as he moved them backward, he heard the clicking of the bike’s chain moving from the smallest and hardest gear to the biggest and easiest gear. No going back now!
But no matter! As soon as he turn left, to began the ascent up the mountain road, he started to slow down. His legs began to feel their muscles tighten, just has he began to feel his hands began to tighten around the bike handlebars. His arms’ muscles also tighten because with each downward peddled step, his arms would be also be reacting to the working legs, to control the bike’s wheels from moving side by side. The goal was to keep the front wheel from moving side to side; he wanted to keep it pointed straight as an arrow so he could conserve energy. But of course, with all of that work, Brady’s heart began to beat faster and faster, as it pumped blood fast and faster throughout his body, just as his lungs were pumping oxygen in and out faster and faster. The salty sweat on his skin was beginning to build up. The salty sweat started began to drip into his eyes, causing his eyes to burn, so with one hand on the bike’s handle bars, Brady used the other hand to wipe the burning sweat off his eyes. He used a old cotton tee shirt because it would dry very fast in the hot sunlight. Every fifteen minutes, Brady would grab the plastic water bottle and take a gulp of water. That was the fifteen minute rule. Brady would also splash some water on his head and face too.
For so long, all that Brady could see was the dull black tarred road, along with the tall trees and bushes on both sides of the road. On the left side of the mountain road the trees and bushes went higher because the mountain went higher. But on the right side of the mountain road, the trees and bushes were all under Brady because on the left side of the mountain road was a cliff; a cliff with millions of jagged tree branches facing him with the silent reminder of a painful death There was no room for error because if Brady had fallen off the side of the road, he would be falling down into very steep decline, with pointed tree branches helping to remind him that falling off the road was a terrible mistake. Moreover, the road was darken by the tree’s shadows, but every so often, a patch of sunlight would shine through the a space in the trees, which give Brady a reminder of the sunlight at the top of the mountain.
Once Brady had reached a steady credence, he simply peddled as if he was a human machine, a machine of skins and bones; which to all appearances and purposes, he was a human machine. He had transformed his consciousness to become a human machine of skin and bones, but of mind too. He had temporality recreated his mind to become a strong pumping and pushing machine that would force and push every fiber and every cell and every bone in his body to push down and pull up the bike’s two peddles; the bike’s peddles that would turn the wheels so slowly to move the bike forward in time. In one sense, time did slowed down for Brady, as he focused on his inward mind, his inward consciousness, his inward stillness, to find the inner strength to not quit.
There was little time to think once he began to focus on the task of pumping his legs up and down, and around and around in constant circles, over and over and over again. As his legs began a steady pumping action, his lungs and heart began to settle down too, even though they were working at a higher level now, every part of his body was operating perfectly. Brady would look forward, in a relaxing manner once he knew his mind and body and ego was going to succeed its mission of the long, long climb up the mountain. He sensed that he was lucky with this mountain ride. The angle of the mountain was not steep enough to stop him. Once, a very steep mountain was so steep, meaning that the angle was so high that climbing it was impossible. So he turned around and quickly cruised down the mountain; which of course is very fun, but a very dangerous thing to do.
The ride down that very steeped angle was so fun, but he knew; Brady really knew that one little slip, on a little stone, at the correct angle could wipe him out forever. One rule of down hill riding was to not hit a stone at the wrong angle. So why even bother taking the dangerous risk? Maybe because some humans needed to face death every once in a while, just for the fun of it.
After a forty minute climb, Brady saw the glaring sunlight above his head and as he turned his head, he saw the lake below him, as if it had became smaller. As he turned his head back to the road, the top of the mountain opened up to him because he had reached the mountain’s top. A wide field of yellow wild flowers awaited him. The sun warmed up his body. Brady had reached the mountain’s top, so he slowed down his pace, to ride a short distance, to slow down his heartbeat and to find a place to rest. He saw an old fashion store-restaurant, so he rode up to the old fashion store-restaurant. Brady felt strong as he walked into the old fashion store-restaurant.
As he walked into the old fashion store-restaurant, he saw an old couple who looked like the owners. They looked as if they had no where to go because they loved living on the top of the mountain. They greeted Brady with a ‘Hi.’ and he greeted them back with a ‘Hi.’ He bought a lemon drink and he sat down on the seat of a picnic bench. He took out a pen and a sheet of paper and he wrote on a piece of paper, ‘I loved living. It was a great ride.’ He put the paper in his pocket and he finished his drink. And before his heartbeat slowed down, he hopped on the bike seat and he turned his handle bars towards the mountain’s downward slope. Brady began his descent down the mighty mountain. As he looked down the mountain’s road, he became consciously aware of the known dangers he faced as he sped down the mountain’s road. A stone on the road, a deer running out form the side of the mountain’s wooded forest, or a skunk, or cat, or dog, or squirrel, or a car or truck. But it was Sunday, so if he was lucky, he might be free and safe from seeing a car or truck for the three to five minutes of downhill breakneck speed.
There was no need to peddle. The bike’s wheels began to turn slowly, but not for long. Brady lowered his body closer to the bike frame as he also lowered his head so the air would glide over his bike helmet. Within a few seconds he was racing down the hill so fast, that within thirty seconds, the bike’s speed odometer read 65 miles an hour. As Brady’s body became at one with bike, as the bike’s thin tires rolled on the paved road, as Brady’s brain saw the earth move under him, he realized that he was now playing with the laws of both physics and metaphysics.
While his mind hoped and prayed that he would not hit a tiny stone at the wrong angle, he also had to control the handle bars as the bike moved around one curve, only to curve around to the left and then to the right over and over again. The timing had to be just correct, because he knew that if he wiped out, he would go flying over the side of the cliff, into the tree’s branches, and if anyone did find him, he knew that he probably would be dead. But he knew that since no one knew he had taken the crazy bike ride of the year, they would not even know where to look for him. He now realized that they would never ever look on the side of the mountain’s cliff, so it would be by an accident when someone did find him. Or maybe he would never be found. Brady’s sensed the danger as he traveled 65 miles down the curvy and windy road, but there was no real time to ponder the mysteries of life and death. He faced the thousands of tiny bumps in the road just as a jet fighter pilot would face the bumps in the sky; with a natural ease of movement. There was no other way. A magical oneness with speed!
The trees stood very still as Brady noticed a truck slowly turning a bend in the road. ‘Wow, I thought that I was going to get lucky.’ as he calculated how much space he needed to pass the truck. He knew that he could not depend on the truck missing him, but as he saw the truck driver smile at the unexpected bullet that headed his way, Brady passed him with flying colors.
Then, a real unexpected surprise, a deer was standing on the side of the road. It was eating some grass. ‘Do not move deer.’ thought Brady. The deer looked up as it realized the silent bike bullet was not going to kill him. Brady glided passed the deer. ‘Thank God’ thought Brady.
After the four minute free fall, Brady saw the beginning of the Y and he gently squeezed his bike brakes. That in itself, was a skill. He knew that if he made a mistake with the brakes, he could still crash. Yet, with just enough pressure, he glided to a full stop at the bottom of the mountain.
As Brady began to turn the bike's handle bars to turn around the leveled street corner, the handle bars turned, but the front wheel did not turn. Brady and the bike fell to the street. Brady stood up and looked at the sky, towards the heavens and said out loud, to the God and the angels, 'I guess my time has not run out!'
By: Mr. George D. Patnoe., Jr.'s Ambidextrous Brain + Mind.
Brady the bike rider, always sensed the danger of habitually riding his bike almost every other day, even as he sneakily caught the glares of all those older gentleman who normally left their bicycles somewhere in their childhood memories. The two dangers was real enough. The first danger of crashing into a road or by getting hit by a speeding car seemed less physical than the second danger of being gossiped about by the grow up men who had probably never rode a bike throughout their whole lifetime, but who might have dodged bullets for America’s freedom. ‘How could they remember the thrill of a childhood’s freedom after they had experienced the bloody and deadly hell of the major worlds of long ago?’ Brady would ask himself. Nor would they have risked their lives with the dangers of riding a bike on roads and streets that were built for cars and trucks; so they would stay home, only to watch Brady habitually ride his bike pass their homes, almost every other day.
To see the stares of men who had long ago forgotten or who had never known the spirit of freedom: because they had never rode a bike to explore their childhood neighborhoods or because of the belief of being old, of dying of death. Bray saw the stiffness in their bodies as they worked on their cars in their front yards, along with the stiffness of their minds. But Brady’s body and mind were not stiff. Brady could also hear the silent whispers of those whose people who had never caught the thrill of the wind on their skin, or who had not felt the speed in their night dreams. Therefore, they could not began to know why Brady would ride his bike for the fun if it. Yet, as Brady grew older, he had consciously had kept a tiny part of his childhood as a reminder that youth can still be part of one’s soul, a soul that knows nothing of age and gray hair. But there was more to the spirit of an adventurous child’s spirit besides hopping onto the bike’s seat to explore the neighborhood, to seek out new foods, new games, new friends, even nature’s life.
Brady would carefully normally dressed up in his bike uniform to make his bike ride an official statement of purpose. In his mature years, he normally wore an old pair of very pocketed shorts, and a white tee shirt, and an old pair of sneakers, and a yellow wind breaker and a yellow helmet. But in his younger years, he would have normally worn official bike clothes; black tights under biking shorts to protect his butt from the bike seat, a very bright yellow bike shirt to be seen by car drivers, bike gloves to protect his hands if he fell on the street, and a bike helmet to protect his skull and brain. It was a biking uniform for himself and for those who saw him peddling down the street.
Putting on the bike uniform prepared him mentally for the seemingly simple act of peddling down the street or path, but Brady knew that a split second could change his whole life, forever. So many quick decisions to be made when one is riding a bike, just as when one is driving a car, or trading a stock in the stock market, or when opening one’s mouth to speak a word to people who do not understand the real purpose of America’s freedom. Many bikers have experienced that single fraction of a second, when they knew that their bones were going to be crushed by a crash; as if their fleshy bodies were being thrown over the handle bars just as a piece of jelly would be tossed out a car’s window, to spat on the hard street, or a sharp rock, or even into a moving car. Brady knew that even the three pound brain could not disobey the laws of physics, even if the spirit of freedom ruled his invisible soul. Of course, because Brady truly knew something about his own spiritual life; along with the spiritual life of the universe. His understanding of the higher laws of life would overcome even the so-called laws of physics, and even death itself. What a funny thing was that concept of death! Two thousand years ago, a man named Jesus laughed at death too; to prove to the world that there is no death, but people still believe in death, instead of eternal life. Brady understood something about eternal life, but he was not ready to stop breathing just yet.
Each time Brady lifted his bike or walked it out the wooded door, his mental defenses automatically rose to a higher level, to a level of the Boy Scouts Motto, ‘Be Prepared.’ Brady realized that the Boy Scout Motto was meant for camping when he camped as a boy scout, with his dad and brother. But he knew that the greatest of all warriors have to be prepared for times of battle, even for the simple battles of life. Nevertheless, Brady knew that being prepared against others was at times, nothing compared to being prepared against one’s own decisions in life, especially when he was racing down a hill at 65 miles an hour; with the laws of physics in front of him, a hopeful prayer inside him, with life around him, death riding next to him, and angels flying over him. To make decisions when your speed and time are constantly changing is a tricky business. When all you see in front of you is the hard, cold, and dull cement or paved road speeding by you, as you are making decisions as if you were a fighter jet pilot, but without the safety of air to gently parachute you to the ground.
One of Brady’s favorite streets to ride on was located on the edge of a very long lake. The road split into Y, when Brady always had to choose between going left or going right. Riding the right road of the Y meant Brady would get to see the people partying at their boat houses and cottages; along with the sailboats and speed boats floating on the lake water. The warm sun would be heating up the air with just the correct temperature, a perfect warm between hot and cold. The dream temperature when a person is not really aware of the difference between hot and cold because the air was perfectly warm. Brady always took the right road in the Y because he liked the perfect warm temperature of the road, neither to hot or to cold. He also like the speed of the road, neither to fast or to slow. But the weather never stays at the perfect temperature forever, and neither does a bike ride. As the old saying goes, ‘Only a storm truly makes a sailor.’ or paraphrased, ‘Only a real bike ride makes a biker.’
As Brady rode his bike on that paved street, he always looked at the left road in the road’s Y. The problem with this road was that it led to the upward bound road of a tall and very steep mountain; a road with a struggle. As a matter of fact, Brady could not even see the top of this mountain, nor behind the first ten feet of the road. ‘A mysterious road!’ thought Brady; because he had no idea what kind of curves or how high it was. And more importantly, Brady deeply questioned if he could peddle his bike all the way to the top of the mountain, without quitting. (An ego issue) Brady had passed that left road in the fork of the road so many times, because he was partly worried that he might not make it to the top. But more important than that, he knew how much energy it would take to get to the top of this very high and long windy road which lead to the top of the mountain. But he also knew, in the depth of his mind, that he would be facing death when he raced down the mountain. Brady did not even know if the scene at the top of the mountain was even worth the bike ride.
Sometimes our life decisions and goals in life are like that. We see a new personal goal that we think might led to a better life, but we forget the new goal because we know that itmight be hard work, maybe even painful work. And we do not know if all of our hard work will be worth it at the end. As a matter of fact, sometimes we just see all of the hard work without seeing the end result because we do not know what the end result will be, at the end. The end of what? Yet, every ending is a new beginning to something new!
Brady had passed the road so many times, that he began to get tired of passing it. There it was, a sight of ten feet of road before it disappeared into a curve with trees and bushes on both sides of the road. The road disappeared into a curve that pointed up to a steeper angle. Brady thought to himself that it was just so much easier to peddle down the straight away lake road, instead peddling up the mountain road. How many times do we have to make a decision in our lives, to take the easy way or the hard way. How many people take the easy path in life because they do not want to work, or they are scared to fail, or even to succeed. How many people just want to breath, like the trees and bushes on the side of the road.
But Brady just knew that he had no choice! That one day he was going to bike ride up that unknown mountain road, because it was there to ride. Brady thought to himself, ‘If I get exhausted, if I have to quit, I can always stop and turn around go back down the hill. Then, I can try again another day.’ But he knew, he really knew, that once he started to peddle up that mountain, there was no stopping, no going back, no quitting for any reason; unless he was hit by a car or truck, in which case he would be riding down the hill in an ambulance. Of course, there were other possibilities as well. Like if his heart gave out!
So many times before, Brady had looked at ten feet of road with no end in sight, except of the invisible sight of the climb. He could not see the climb, but he knew it was there, like a life teaser which is begging you to try a new path in your life; almost like those tv information commercials, ‘Need an exercise machine? Just send in your $300 and we will send you an exercise bike for your house, but without the lake.’ Why not buy a real bike? thought Brady. But he knew that sometimes an exercise bike was better than no bike at all, especially to escape biking in really bad weather.
Not once, but every time Brady had passed that first ten feet of road, it ate at him like a mental cancer. He would always pass that first ten feet, opting out for the easy road; the road without the pain, without the struggle. On a Sunday afternoon, why work when you can take the easy path. After all, isn’t that what Sunday afternoons are for, to relax and not to work? A warm, sunny Sunday afternoon with sail boats on the lake, with people visiting their summer houses and their summer cottages. Happy people who are so happy because they are not wearing their business suits, or their blue collar work clothes, and more importantly, working people who are happy to be with their families, the payoff for all of their hard work. Brady like to feel that happiness on the weekends. He did not want to feel the pain in his legs and in his lungs and in his brain. He would be very happy as he rode along the happy road, as if that happy lake road was normally better than the lonely and painful ride up the hill.
Life is like that too! We see everyone having fun, and we want to have fun too. Few people want to take the lonely road which will lead them away from the fun times, especially if pain and loneliness was pointing to an unseen end result. But every time Brady had passed by the first ten feet of the road, he would always wonder to himself, as he peddled along the happy road, ‘I wonder what is at the top of the mountain? What kind of view will be there, at the end of long path of struggle up a seemingly invincible mountain road?
But he knew what was at the end of the happy road. There was an old country store with food, drinks, ice cream, and other goodies. That was the pay off for the easy ride. Of course, Brady would have to peddle back home, so he would be burning off of that prized food. He knew that when he arrived home, he would not be winded and sore physically. But, there would be a burning headache that would bug him all week long, even if he was not aware of it during his busy week.
But of course, one Sunday, Brady started out on the normal easy Sunday bike ride, just as he had for a hundred times before. But a funny thing happened. As he peddled towards the Y in front of him, he looked at it and said to himself, ‘What the heck.’ as he turned left instead of right. So as he turned the bike’s handle bars, he had no doubt that he was going to make it to the top of the mountain. ‘The invisible painful headache would be gone one way or another.’ he thought to himself. Brady knew that it would be a Sunday of work instead of pleasure, but so be it. Brady looked down at his eighteen gears and the 1/4 inch wide wheels. His hand reached out to touch the gear shifters, and as he moved them backward, he heard the clicking of the bike’s chain moving from the smallest and hardest gear to the biggest and easiest gear. No going back now!
But no matter! As soon as he turn left, to began the ascent up the mountain road, he started to slow down. His legs began to feel their muscles tighten, just has he began to feel his hands began to tighten around the bike handlebars. His arms’ muscles also tighten because with each downward peddled step, his arms would be also be reacting to the working legs, to control the bike’s wheels from moving side by side. The goal was to keep the front wheel from moving side to side; he wanted to keep it pointed straight as an arrow so he could conserve energy. But of course, with all of that work, Brady’s heart began to beat faster and faster, as it pumped blood fast and faster throughout his body, just as his lungs were pumping oxygen in and out faster and faster. The salty sweat on his skin was beginning to build up. The salty sweat started began to drip into his eyes, causing his eyes to burn, so with one hand on the bike’s handle bars, Brady used the other hand to wipe the burning sweat off his eyes. He used a old cotton tee shirt because it would dry very fast in the hot sunlight. Every fifteen minutes, Brady would grab the plastic water bottle and take a gulp of water. That was the fifteen minute rule. Brady would also splash some water on his head and face too.
For so long, all that Brady could see was the dull black tarred road, along with the tall trees and bushes on both sides of the road. On the left side of the mountain road the trees and bushes went higher because the mountain went higher. But on the right side of the mountain road, the trees and bushes were all under Brady because on the left side of the mountain road was a cliff; a cliff with millions of jagged tree branches facing him with the silent reminder of a painful death There was no room for error because if Brady had fallen off the side of the road, he would be falling down into very steep decline, with pointed tree branches helping to remind him that falling off the road was a terrible mistake. Moreover, the road was darken by the tree’s shadows, but every so often, a patch of sunlight would shine through the a space in the trees, which give Brady a reminder of the sunlight at the top of the mountain.
Once Brady had reached a steady credence, he simply peddled as if he was a human machine, a machine of skins and bones; which to all appearances and purposes, he was a human machine. He had transformed his consciousness to become a human machine of skin and bones, but of mind too. He had temporality recreated his mind to become a strong pumping and pushing machine that would force and push every fiber and every cell and every bone in his body to push down and pull up the bike’s two peddles; the bike’s peddles that would turn the wheels so slowly to move the bike forward in time. In one sense, time did slowed down for Brady, as he focused on his inward mind, his inward consciousness, his inward stillness, to find the inner strength to not quit.
There was little time to think once he began to focus on the task of pumping his legs up and down, and around and around in constant circles, over and over and over again. As his legs began a steady pumping action, his lungs and heart began to settle down too, even though they were working at a higher level now, every part of his body was operating perfectly. Brady would look forward, in a relaxing manner once he knew his mind and body and ego was going to succeed its mission of the long, long climb up the mountain. He sensed that he was lucky with this mountain ride. The angle of the mountain was not steep enough to stop him. Once, a very steep mountain was so steep, meaning that the angle was so high that climbing it was impossible. So he turned around and quickly cruised down the mountain; which of course is very fun, but a very dangerous thing to do.
The ride down that very steeped angle was so fun, but he knew; Brady really knew that one little slip, on a little stone, at the correct angle could wipe him out forever. One rule of down hill riding was to not hit a stone at the wrong angle. So why even bother taking the dangerous risk? Maybe because some humans needed to face death every once in a while, just for the fun of it.
After a forty minute climb, Brady saw the glaring sunlight above his head and as he turned his head, he saw the lake below him, as if it had became smaller. As he turned his head back to the road, the top of the mountain opened up to him because he had reached the mountain’s top. A wide field of yellow wild flowers awaited him. The sun warmed up his body. Brady had reached the mountain’s top, so he slowed down his pace, to ride a short distance, to slow down his heartbeat and to find a place to rest. He saw an old fashion store-restaurant, so he rode up to the old fashion store-restaurant. Brady felt strong as he walked into the old fashion store-restaurant.
As he walked into the old fashion store-restaurant, he saw an old couple who looked like the owners. They looked as if they had no where to go because they loved living on the top of the mountain. They greeted Brady with a ‘Hi.’ and he greeted them back with a ‘Hi.’ He bought a lemon drink and he sat down on the seat of a picnic bench. He took out a pen and a sheet of paper and he wrote on a piece of paper, ‘I loved living. It was a great ride.’ He put the paper in his pocket and he finished his drink. And before his heartbeat slowed down, he hopped on the bike seat and he turned his handle bars towards the mountain’s downward slope. Brady began his descent down the mighty mountain. As he looked down the mountain’s road, he became consciously aware of the known dangers he faced as he sped down the mountain’s road. A stone on the road, a deer running out form the side of the mountain’s wooded forest, or a skunk, or cat, or dog, or squirrel, or a car or truck. But it was Sunday, so if he was lucky, he might be free and safe from seeing a car or truck for the three to five minutes of downhill breakneck speed.
There was no need to peddle. The bike’s wheels began to turn slowly, but not for long. Brady lowered his body closer to the bike frame as he also lowered his head so the air would glide over his bike helmet. Within a few seconds he was racing down the hill so fast, that within thirty seconds, the bike’s speed odometer read 65 miles an hour. As Brady’s body became at one with bike, as the bike’s thin tires rolled on the paved road, as Brady’s brain saw the earth move under him, he realized that he was now playing with the laws of both physics and metaphysics.
While his mind hoped and prayed that he would not hit a tiny stone at the wrong angle, he also had to control the handle bars as the bike moved around one curve, only to curve around to the left and then to the right over and over again. The timing had to be just correct, because he knew that if he wiped out, he would go flying over the side of the cliff, into the tree’s branches, and if anyone did find him, he knew that he probably would be dead. But he knew that since no one knew he had taken the crazy bike ride of the year, they would not even know where to look for him. He now realized that they would never ever look on the side of the mountain’s cliff, so it would be by an accident when someone did find him. Or maybe he would never be found. Brady’s sensed the danger as he traveled 65 miles down the curvy and windy road, but there was no real time to ponder the mysteries of life and death. He faced the thousands of tiny bumps in the road just as a jet fighter pilot would face the bumps in the sky; with a natural ease of movement. There was no other way. A magical oneness with speed!
The trees stood very still as Brady noticed a truck slowly turning a bend in the road. ‘Wow, I thought that I was going to get lucky.’ as he calculated how much space he needed to pass the truck. He knew that he could not depend on the truck missing him, but as he saw the truck driver smile at the unexpected bullet that headed his way, Brady passed him with flying colors.
Then, a real unexpected surprise, a deer was standing on the side of the road. It was eating some grass. ‘Do not move deer.’ thought Brady. The deer looked up as it realized the silent bike bullet was not going to kill him. Brady glided passed the deer. ‘Thank God’ thought Brady.
After the four minute free fall, Brady saw the beginning of the Y and he gently squeezed his bike brakes. That in itself, was a skill. He knew that if he made a mistake with the brakes, he could still crash. Yet, with just enough pressure, he glided to a full stop at the bottom of the mountain.
As Brady began to turn the bike's handle bars to turn around the leveled street corner, the handle bars turned, but the front wheel did not turn. Brady and the bike fell to the street. Brady stood up and looked at the sky, towards the heavens and said out loud, to the God and the angels, 'I guess my time has not run out!'
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About Me
- George D. Patnoe., Jr!!!
- United States
- When I was in college studying International Economics/Finance, I was also wondering how to develop a more powerful brain. So in 2001,I began a very specialized ambidextrous brain exercise program, for two hours per day,for many years. Those brain exercise began with me writing out words,mostly verbs, with both hands in different patterns.That developed into dual handed sentence writing to longer stories and dual handed drawing exercises.Details are for future books.I did these two hour brain workouts as a personal experiment to restructure my brain's neurons for the purpose of making my brain stronger for writing and language development; for logically creative storying writing.As far as I know, I am the only person in the course of history to have developed these ambidextrous hand/brain exercises.The purpose of these ambidextrous brain exercises is to strenghten both sides of the brain for language skills development, and to connect both sides of the brain together for language skills development. There is a very logical neurological reason for using two hands to write and draw as brain exercises. I also draw with both hands. 52 Stories is my testament!