SeTH GEzz SoUp ScoOP: 2012

        See you in a future

I my self believe some of the best true

stories start out by being inspired by fiction.           SJGalli

                    Chapter 1

                October 15 2012

            This is what happened.

I was driving like a fiend out into the

northeastern Oregon desert night.

Dreaming out into the night.

It was early morning, I stopped my truck in

the middle of the vastness and stepped out

on to the solidness of the two lane highway,

it was cold and crisp. The universe filled the

sky. I in awe, felt like an antenna picking up

the vibrations of the great expanse.

What lay beyond? I thought

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, screen

lit, one thirty, morning, no bars. I attempted

to take a picture of the heavens with my

phone, no dice, and the milky way right

there, as if I could run my fingers through it.

I got back in my rig and the warmth of the

cab. I rolled down the window and started

the truck, lights on, brights on, I rolled

forward into night.

“I needed to find some higher ground to get

a cell signal“, I thought.

I was between Wagon tire and Riley

junction headed north on three ninety five.

The highway cut over ridge after ridge, dark,

but I could still see the buckled tectonic

plates that made up the land scrape. A rabbit

darted out of the sage brush on to the road,

crumpled and bumped as it passed under my

truck. I slowed as I reached the top of a

short steep grade. On the right hand side of

the road I could see the out line of a gravel

pile, I turned off the highway, drove up to

and parked in front of the mountain of

gravel.

I got out and hustled to the top of the

Pile. Sitting down on a wool blanket I had

grabbed from my truck, I crossed my legs.

Facing north west, I took off my hat to take

in the fullness of the milky way galaxy.

I looked around at the vivid broken horizon

that separated the earth from space.

It was quiet with a light breeze.

There was magic happening out in

the desert, In a strange dark kind of light.

As if the deserts only purpose was to

enhance the night sky.

Then like little raindrops a ribbon of meteors

showered and filled the northern sky.

I felt an exhilaration.

The shower faded in the same moment.

Full moments passed.

I sensed the universe was moving, but

rather, I thought, “it was us on this planet of

mal- and discontent entwined with awe and

epic beauty, screaming through space,

vibrating the void as we pass, then the

emptiness returning to silence and calm,

as we hurdle on in to a future of predictable

repetitiveness, spinning on through the

cosmos.

The universe looked calm from a distance.

The desert and wind had fallen silent.

The air crisped, the moment became vivid.

I plugged in to the source, down loading

knowledge, knowledge, etched in to my

Mind with vivid imagery and the emotion

of awe. Taking in the epic universe, every

grain.

A car hissed by, traveling north,

disappearing into a swale, then lighting the

apposing ridge, summiting and vanishing

into a distant glow beyond my view.

The link was broken, I sat dazed for a

moment. The vision was in tacked .

I felt very calm.

My phone pinged, I pulled it out of my

pocket and turned it on, almost five am,

I had been up on the gravel pile for three

and a half hours, it felt like thirty or forty

minutes, “wild” I thought.

I could see a faint glow and a bluing of the

eastern horizon.

I had been up all night.

I decided to cruzz up north and find some

mountain shade to sleep off the morning.

I checked my phone again it was five thirty

I had a few bars, at least enough to send out

a text message, I thought.

Thirty minutes later I had a text ready that

recounted the night and early morning

events. I sent it to a friend of mine in

California and another friend in Iowa.

I got in my truck and out on to the road

headed north. Two hours later, the sun just

breaking the horizon, the hot light scorching

my dry eyes, I drove in to the shadow of a

canyon, the canyon bottom narrowing as I

drove up the gentle grade. A creek flanked

with willows wound back and forth along

the canyon bottom occasionally skirting the

road.

I pulled off In to a turn out some one had

once used as a camp site with a fire circle in

tacked.

I got out, took a leak, then walked a couple

hundred feet over to the creek.

Reaching in to the chilled gurgling liquid, I

splashed water on my face and head,

working the coolness in to my scalp

and rubbing the stiffness out of my eyes.

I walked back to my pickup and pulled the

wool blanket out from behind my seat, threw

it across my windshield closing both doors

on it to hold it in place, filtering out the

light.

I took my shoes off and settled into the front

seat of my truck for a nap.

        See you in a future past life.

[What is this that dances before my eyes, but that which perplexes and accelerates the human demise. Yes, meaning making, my friend, meaning making.]

                      Chapter 2

                  A traveling day.

I woke up to the sound of a approaching

vehicle. I sat up, opened the door of the

pickup and slipped on my shoes. The vehicle

slowed then stopped. I ran my fingers

through my hair smoothing it, then dawned

my hat. I stepped out and Looked across the

back of my truck. Two game wardens

walked over from a rig they had left parked

on the road. They said hi and asked if I was

doing any hunting or fishing.

I said no and that I had just found this place

to nap earlier that morning.

I told them about the meteor shower and the

amazing scenes from last night and this

morning. They both had stories

of night in the desert. We talked for a while.

They told me about springs, mountains and

old trails in the local area. I told them I was

headed to bend that afternoon for supplies,

and that I was going to go back out in to the

desert and camp to watch another night of

sky and landscape. They bid me fare well,

got back in their truck and eased up the

road.

I unwrapped the windshield and folded up

the wool blanket. I grabbed a shovel and

toilet paper from the truck. I walked up the

creek and found a place to cross.

Behind the screen of willows and away from

the creek I dug a hole, squatted and took in

the view. Finished, I covered up my relief.

Shovel in hand, I crossed back over the

creek to my truck. Stashing the shovel in the

bed of the pick up, I hefted my wooden

kitchen box out and set it next to the fire

ring. I retrieved a bagged bar of soap from

the box and headed over to the creek to

wash up. At the creek I lathered up and

rinsed off with numbingly cold water.

There was a smell close to the water, a sweet

green smell with a waft of juniper spice. At

the creek I collected a arm load of dead

willow stalks and branches. I returned to my

truck and the fire pit, started a fire and made

a breakfast of oatmeal and coffee. After

washing the breakfast dishes, I loaded up the

kitchen box. I checked the camp site for

trash, picked up a few bits, got in my truck

and headed down the canyon in to the wide

valley below.

Rim rocked ridge lines dotted with junipers,

wide valleys of sage and grass, lone

mountains with hillocks leveling out on to

valley floors, gorges cut through the black

volcanic rock between valleys, with plateaus

above and beyond ending at the foot of real

mountains. This is central and eastern

Oregon.

I fueled up at Riley junction, then headed

west on highway twenty towards Bend.

Window rolled down I took in the desert air.

I had no idea what time it was, I wasn’t in a

hurry and had no schedule to keep. I reached

for my phone, battery dead, I plugged it in to

charge. I looked at my watch, one thirty,

funny, twelve hours ago I was communing

with stars, dreaming along the milky way.

I traveled the highway, inside the southern

rim of a long wide basin. The southern rim

of the basin was defined by a continuous

volcanic ridge with the occasional conical

shaped volcanic mountain and some times

chains of them.

At what looked like about half way up the

basin twenty turned hard to the left and crosscut a series of broken and lifted

tectonic plates. Rising above the valley

floor, the views became epic in almost every

direction. Junipers became more common,

the broken plates and ridges softened into

decaying rock drainages and the

surroundings became more that of a

plateau.

I slowed for a rest area, it looked nice, I

pulled in.

I kind of felt like and idiot peeing in a urea

fumed bathroom in the middle of the desert.

Finished, I washed my hands and walked

out in to the landscape. Then I just

wandered off.

[Note;
It was no place for meaning, only feeling

and being. The landscape drew out from me

some poison, as if I had been long since

snake bit and just now freed from its

sickness. Praise the planet, landscapes heal.]

I was wandering around slowly weaving

between sage brush clumps and junipers,

eyes scanning the ground at my feet for the

unusual, in a land of consistently tiny stones

and grains.

I stepped to the edge of a little clearing in

the sage brush and junipers, an ant hill was

at its center. The ground meticulously clean

except an ant scree field of ant size boulders.

Each pebble seamed polished, I noticed,

” perhaps it was, by the thousands little legs

it took to get it there“, I thought.

   I watched the ants work. “What order and

organization”, “amazing” I thought. “What a

fantastic level of cooperation!” I beamed.

“There doing it, why cant we?” (The mental

rift went on, far beyond what needs to be

written hear.)

I imagined the ant hill in its depths, layer

after layer of food, larva, eggs, molds,

microbes, grains of sand and what do they

use the desert dust for…? Humm.. A virtual

city, thousands upon thousands of ants,

farming in the desert, right hear.

I wandered off in a cloud of imaginings.
Finding a little patch of rocks strewn around

and under the sage brush and bunch grass.

Kneeling down, I examined a few, some

kind of soft tan shale.

I noticed the shadows were getting longer. I

headed back to my truck and the rest area.

About an hour later at dusk, I walked in to

the rest area. I got a drink from the fountain

and filled up some water jugs I had and

returned them to my truck. I was about to

get in when I spotted the rest area map. I

looked at the map along twenty towards Bend. On the map I found Glass Buttes.

Years before I had met my mom there, she

was participating in a primitive technology

rendevou. I didn’t feel like driving to bend,

it would make a great place to camp for the

night.

I got back in my truck and took off west to

Glass buttes.

About forty minutes later I pulled up next to

a large dry man made pond, in the saddle on

the back side of the main butte.

Tired, I started a fire in an old fire circle and

heated up some dehydrated beans. I opened

up a can of diced clams and found some

corn tortes’ in my kitchen box, some garlic

and sea salt. It was flavor full and I ate

well.

I took a large canvas tarp from my truck

along with a couple of wool blankets, folded

them together into a bed roll. Climbed in

and fell asleep.

    Note ;
To, the reader first and foremost, thank you!

       See you in a future past life.

                      Chapter 3

    I was where I was going to return to.

I woke up around five thirty. The morning

light was just starting to reveal the details

of the landscape. It was chilly with a light

morning breeze.

An occasional bird flittered between sage

and junipers with what seamed to me

anxious chirps, probably just warning their

world of my presence.

I felt rested and calm..

I had just spent the last five months working

in Redding California, roasting through the

summer. The temperatures were record

breaking. The heat had an angering affect on

the population. Like a hive full of bees

flapping there wings trying to cool the hive,

an angry hum, as if they were just waiting

for some thing to offend them, wanting to

strike.

I savored the cool air and thought back on

the summer events.
            ____________________

Earlier this spring, a gal I know was telling

me about compost tea and the huge harvests

she was getting from her vegetable garden.

I had been thinking about growing a bunch

of hot peppers.

I also was interested in worms and

producing worm castings. I looked on the

internet for worms locally. I found an add

directing me to the farmers market and Ken,

the worm guy.

Ken expanded my view of the world through

soil. He gave me an entirely new world to

dream in.

I met Ken early one Saturday in late spring

at the Redding farmers market . He had an

old ford pickup with a blue tarp canopy he

had rigged up on his lumber rack off the

back, shading beyond the tailgate. he had a

little table, couple of books on soil and

worms. A batch of actively aerated compost

tea bubbling away in a milk jug colored

tank on a stand in the back of his truck .

I could see the dark brown liquid agitated by

a air pump.

A white haired man was sitting on a

cushion on the tailgate of the old ford. He

wore a shorter brimmed straw hat and stood

five foot ten or so in height, medium build

short sleeve shirt with a collar and shorts

down to flip-flops. I walked up and

introduced my self. He had a very open

nature and personality, we quickly fell into a

conversation about worms, teas, soils,

microbes, bugs, shredders, mineralization,

plants, and all of their inter connected

relationships.

People occasionally dropped

by to chat, buy worms, worm castings,

inoculate their plants with worm tea

(Actively aerated compost tea). It was an

inspiring atmosphere.   He told me to get a

book called ;Teaming with microbes. I

bought and read the book the fallowing

week.

The next Saturday and many after, I

would meet Ken at the farmers market,

early, we talked about soils and worms. We

talked about methods of application and

products that might be able to fund a large

scale soil building program.

Ken is passionate about building healthy

soil. I now share his passion. There is a

certain kind of rightness about building

healthy soils, It dose the mind well. That

was a period of magnificent learning.

[ I am now “Pan”, the Greek God of nature,

In my dreams now, I paint landscapes with

fertile soils and lush grasses:]

              _________________

The top of Glass Buttes was just catching

the early morning sun rays, starting out gold

then transitioning to a clean white light, all

the while the activity of the birds rising in

sound.

I started a fire and made coffee.

Drinking a cup of cowboy coffee, grounds

and all, I took in the surrounding area. I was

in the shadow of a ridge line, in a saddle. I

watched the shadows move as the sun rose

over the landscape. After I had finished

several cups of coffee, I packed up camp.

I drove up the road toward the

summit.

Close to the summit, I parked and

walked the remaining distance to the peak.

I took in the stunning view.

There were numerous huge valleys that

stretched out beyond site.

(Glass Buttes sit on a ridge back between

multiple converging valleys/ basins.)

I looked out towards the city of Bend,

it lay beyond site.

I thought, “I wonder if I can get

service on my phone up hear?”.

Heck, I hadn’t looked at my phone since I

had plugged it in the day before to charge.

I walked back down to my truck, found my

phone and unplugged it. I turned my phone

on and watched as it reoriented its self.

I returned to the summit. My phone pinged a

couple of times. Reaching the summit, I

unlocked the screen, I had a bunch of emails

three texts and five voice mails. Nothing to

out of the ordinary

I read the texts, they were from two

different friends of mine in California.

The first text was from George. He told me

he was headed up to Idaho to visit family

and had received the text I had sent him the

day before. He asked me where I was and if

I wanted to meet up, camp and watch a

three day meteor shower that was coming

up. I had good signal, so I called George.

He answered, turns out he had got a late

start and was just passing through Klamath

falls. I told him I was standing on top of

Glass Buttes summit. He said he wanted to

meet me there and that there was a three day

meteor shower starting to night. I told him I

had received his texts about it.

I said I was going to head in to Bend

and get some supplies and more water, then,

I would be back.

Plans set, we hung up. I took some pictures

of the surrounding valleys, ridges and

mountain ranges. I sent a couple pictures to

Georges’ phone and then down loaded all of

the pictures I had taken of the area on to my

face book page.

With a short note; “Camping at Glass

Buttes, Oregon, meeting George there

Tonight, to camp and watch a three day

meteor shower.”

I got back in my pick up, turned around and

headed down and around the Buttes to

highway twenty. I turned on to the hard

smooth surface and headed west to bend.

After bumping around on desert roads,

I enjoyed the asphalt and the speed at which

I could travel, A few stops to look around

and an hour and a half later I was in Bend.

I found the health food store. I bought

several pounds of a granola berry mix. I

picked out some fruit, bananas, oranges and

apples, five pounds of oats, two pounds

of a nut beery mix.

At a gas station I filled up my truck and

topped off my water supply.

Even though Bend was busy, I hardly

noticed any thing out side of getting

supplies, my mind was in the desert.

Before I knew it, I was east of Bend on

highway twenty, headed for Glass Buttes

and camp.

I rolled into the camp I had stayed at the

night before. I was stoked that George was

coming to camp for a few days, I was stoked

that there was going to be a meteor shower

and I that I would get to watch it here in this

place. I thought George would probably

show up around dark.

It was around four in the afternoon.

I set up camp. I put together my bedroll, the

kitchen box and a pile of sticks I had

collected earlier and staged them all around

the fire pit.

I had eaten my fill of granola, drank

some water and was satisfied. I decided to

take a nap before George showed up.


            See you in a future past life.

                        Chapter 4

                  Light and wonder.

I woke and sat up. It was dark. Finding my

phone, I turned it on, it was just past nine.

I got up an straitened my bedroll, folding the

flap at the head of the roll to keep out the

wild life.

I had camped in a saddle, but not at the top

, the air was calm and cooling.

I started a fire.

George hadn’t showed up yet.

Figuring he probably visited friends along

the way, I was not surprised.

I put some water on to boil for coffee.

Staring into the fire, I watched its forbidden

landscapes of molten change and then

dissolve.

The water boiling, I add some coffee

grounds to the pot.

A few more minutes in a cooler spot on the

fire and the coffee would be ready.

I added a couple of sticks to the fire.

Hearing a road gravel noise from down the

draw, I looked to see a dome of light moving

through the juniper, a mile or so away.

Probably George, I thought.

Moments later George showed up with his

usual beaming grin.

We sat by the fire and talked.

He talked about his days drive and some of

the sites he had stopped to check out.

He then showed me some pictures of rivers

he had scouted out over the past summer.

I could tell things were going well with him.

We quieted and stared in to the fire,

enjoying a cup of coffee.

Georges car was squat, loaded down with

adventure gear as usual.

Bike on its carrier hanging dangerously low

to the ground off the back bumper. Back

windows obscured by ropes, bags, climbing

shoes, a milk crate full of food odds and

ends, paddles and a tent. I am sure there was

a boat deep in the gear in the back of his car,

some where.

The car dusted brown.

A adventure travelers car.

I was staring at his car in the fire light,

smiling wryly.

George looked at his car and then back at

me and smiled.

He had been having fun in some un traveled

region, seeing and climbing and traveling

through.

George likes to walk.

We put the fire out, gathered up water,

snacks and other essentials and started

walking up the road to the peak.

We left the road a couple of times, short

cutting across switch backs.

With out using our lights, our eyes had

adjusted to the darkness, we made our

way up the mountain.

Almost at the top, the rounded peak stood

out, black and backed by the milky way.

Summiting, we stood quiet.

A shooting star, then two, streaked and

vanished mid sky.

Silence.

[I knew I was at the right time and place in the universe, doing what I was suppose to be doing.]

I saw a vehicle turn off highway twenty and

start making its way up to the saddle and our

camp site.

George said, out of the silence,

“I invited some friends from bend’’

I looked further up twenty towards bend,

Three sets of headlights each miles apart

were headed towards us, one fading red

glow bound for Burns vanished in the

distant dark.

I asked George if he thought we should

return to camp to meet his friends, he

seamed to think that every thing would be

alright and that his friends would find there

way up to the peak.

We went back to watching the sky.

It was about eleven.

I heard their breathing, then their foot falls

as they approached, lots of feet and some

mild gasping for air.

Every body whispered,

It was great,

like we where at a theater,

And we were!

They where five, two bucks and three does.

Some of Georges friends

We where now a party of seven.

We settled in and watched the sky.

The meteor shower had just begun.

It came on strong, many meteors a minute.

The group was taken by uncontrollable fits

of exclamation.

Out of the ruckus someone said “there is

somebody coming up the road”.

Sure enough, there it was, a truck, rounding

the hill.

One of the gals from our group walked to

meet them as they parked below.

A greeting of familiarity resonated, from

the party now piling out of the truck.

There must have been eight or ten people.

They where friends of Georges friends.

Another rig came, more friends of friends.

Our group met their groups, after we all met

and mixed, I couldn’t figure out who was

who any more.

A hole bunch of names of faces and voices

in the dark.

Turns out, several people sent texts to there

friends to let them know where they where

going incase they went missing.

[A good adventuring policy, when going to the remote, let someone know where you are going. ]

And their friends followed them.

People kept showing up.

We stayed seated as a group and watched the

shower of rocks from space paint the canvas

of the Milky way.

And the cars kept coming.

Every one was surprised at the number of

people that showed up, there may have

been as many as a hundred and fifty people

there.

It was freaking me out a little, as I don’t

prefer crowds.


That night was all about watching light in all

its forms.

It was rad, awe and wonder was in the air.

I fell asleep on my blanket on top of

Glass butte.

       See you in a future past life

                     Chapter 5

            Morning October 17th

                    Anna’s spring.

Morning, October seventeenth.

The morning breeze child me awake.

It was dawn, I could see from the peak,

the eastern horizon waking.

Looking around from my fetal position and

from under what turned out to be a pile of

coats.

I could see other piles of coats,

blanketed fetal lumps, that could only be

human.

I sat up and stood up all in one motion.

Wearing my jacket, still, I was cold.

I hadn’t completely bathed in several days.

Coated in a funky and greasy cold,

I simply had to get bathed and warm.

I was hungry, I could feel the lack of

nourishment in my body.

Spreading out my wool blanket, I stacked all

the coats in the center with the remains of

my provisions, grasping all four corners, I

hefted it over my shoulder.

fetching my hat,

I stuffed it down on to a head of dusty,

brittle, lengthening hair and a sore scalp.

It took a few moments to feel balanced and

focus my swollen eyes.

Still not quite light, I could see the ghost

white of the road below.

I loosely walked on week knees down to

the road.

I was thinking about food, the few handfuls

of granola I had snatched while gathering

things up, left a dry film in my mouth.

I was out of water, I was hungry.

I walked and dreamed about eggs, bacon

and toasted bread slathered with butter.

Humm.. My mouth began to water.

It was starting to get light, I walked across

the saddle and down the road towards camp.

Twenty or more cars where parked just off

and along the road, windows fogged.

I walked up to my truck and camp.

Someone was asleep on top of my bedroll,

covered with a blanket.

I looked around camp.

George was buried in the bottom of his

sleeping bag, not moving.

I set the bundle of coats I was carrying in

the back of my truck.

Someone had add to the pile of wood that I

had collected the day before.

I walked over and collected a hand full of

twigs and some smaller branches from the

pile.

Crunching up the twigs into a wadd of

tinder, I broke and stacked the smaller

branches over the tinder.

Getting up, I walked to the edge of camp

and collected some dry grass.

I waded the grass up into a ball, walking

over and leaning down to the fire pit,

I tucked the ball up under the tinder.

I pulled my lighter out, reached down and lit

the grass.

The fire jumped to life.

Adding more and larger sticks, I built a good

breakfast fire.

I filled the coffee pot with water and

balanced it over the fire between three

rocks, to boil.

Grabbing a cast-iron skillet from my kitchen

box, I wiped the dust out of it with a

kitchen towel and placed it on the fire to

warm.

I retrieved a loaf of bread, olive oil, eggs

and some bacon, from a box on the

passenger side floor board of my truck.

(Supplies I had brought from Redding.)

Returning to the fire, I dug through the

kitchen box, found salt, pepper and some

garlic salt.

A splash of olive oil in the hot frying pan, a

glove and a swirling motion, the pan was

ready.

I put two pieces of bred in the skillet.

Taking a coffee cup, I cut a mug sized hole

in each slice of bread, removing the center.

I filled each hole with an egg.

Its what my family calls a one eyed jack, an

egg fried in a hole in the middle of a piece

of toast.

I examined the bacon and gave it a sniff.

Ever since my navy days and a bout with

food poisoning, I have been weary of foods

that parish and examine them closely.

I flipped the jacks, a crackle and hiss came

from the pan, garlic, salt, pepper added.

The coffee water started to boil, I added

some grounds and set the pot to the side of

the fire to bubble and steep.

I looked up to see an orange glow on the

buttes, the sun was rising.

I heard people stirring.

I looked up the road towards the saddle, a

blanket wrapped straggler from the butte

was making his way down the road.

Minutes later he walked into camp and sat

down on a rock at the edge of the fire across

from me.

He stared at the items cooking on the

breakfast fire.

I collected two plates from my kitchen box,

Forking a jack out of the skillet on to each

plate.

I handed him a fork and one of the plates.

He said “thanks“.

Coffee ready, I Poured two cups of coffee

from the steaming pot and handed the

unnamed visitor a cup.

He smiled and nodded in appreciation as he

ate the jack.

I filled the cast iron skillet with the whole

packet of bacon and pulled all the slices

apart with a fork.

Bacon frying, I picked up my plate to eat.

We ate and drank coffee in silence.

People where waking up, getting up.

A car started.

The bacon started to steam, hiss and pop.

I stirred the bacon with a fork, it hissed and

popped excitedly.

A thick smell rose from the pan.

A car rolled by, a sleep faced driver waved

and smiled through a fog wiped window.

The person on my bedroll stirred.

Sitting on my kitchen box, I turned to see a

woman with black hair lifting herself up

to a sitting position.

She brushed back her hair with a hand

revealing a shy but impish smile, naturally.

She got up and asked “ what do you guys

got cooking.”

I stood up and pulled the last two coffee

cups from the kitchen box.

Filing a cup, she got up, walked over and I

handed her the cup of coffee

She returned to my bedroll and sat down.

Sipping her coffee, she asked our names.

The guy across the fire from me said his

name was “Travis“, I introduced myself , “I

am Seth, what’s your name.”

“Anna“, she said, with a European accent.

“Nice to meet you Anna“, I replied.

I turned to the fire and stirred the bacon.

I was feeling a little uncomfortable, I was

stunned by Anna.

I stood up and walked to my truck.

Reaching in to the bed of my truck, I

grabbed a five gallon bucket containing dry

goods I had purchased in bend the day

before.

I set the bucket near the fire for Anna to sit

on.

I retrieved several more buckets and placed

them around the fire.

Anna came and sat on a bucket and warmed

herself by the fire.

The sun was shining on the buttes.

Glass Butte was half shadow and half sunlit

slope.

More people wandered in to camp.

Several more coffee cups were produced

from the group.

The coffee pot empty, I rinsed the grounds

out, filled the pot with water and set it on the

fire to boil.

Travis, sitting nearest to the wood pile, had

been keeping the fire stoked.

Bacon finished, I drained the fat into a

coffee can and placed the wadded and curled

strips on a plate, with a paper towel

underneath to soak up the excess grease.

Anna asked me if I was Georges friend from

California. I said “yes“.

She said she had gotten a text from a friend

the night before about some guy from

California and that he was on a spiritual

journey in the desert and was at glass buttes

to watch the three day meteor shower.

________________________________

I had texted George the first night up from

California and told him I was in

the eastern Oregon desert for a spiritual

journey, to clear my mind and reorient my

life path.

I wanted George to know where I was and

what I was doing ,incase any thing

happened.

___________________________________

“Yes“, I said, “some thing like that.”

I told her I hadn’t known about the meteor

shower, until George told me about it.

She asked me what I was searching for.

I told her I was searching for answers and

questions.

Also that I was practicing just being and

seeing.

I told her I found it easy to be calm in the

desert and that the desert had very little

movement with great spaces to contemplate

in.

Every one was looking into the fire, minds

entwined with the licking flames and radiant

coals.

I was feeling self conscious and crusty.

I remembered back, yesterday, from the

peak of the buttes, I had seen a splash of

green on the desert floor, water.

I excused my self and walked to my truck.

I grabbed a jug of water, a towel, a

wash cloth, my bagged bar of soap and put it

all in a bucket.

Anna asked me where the showers where,

ribbing me, with a smile.

I told her about the water I had seen on the

western side of the buttes from the top of the

Glass butte, the day before.

Surprised, she asked if she could join me.

I told her I was walking there.

She stood up and walked over to me.

I turned the camp activities over to Travis,

showing him where all the food was and

giving him free rain.

Anna and I walked up the road and through

the saddle.

We found a game trail that cut across the

lower slopes of Glass Buttes, rounding to

the west. We followed the trail around and

through its forking nature, always following

the most well worn path. Until we came to a

saddle between the two main buttes. In the

saddle, the grass short cropped.   At its

center a large depression where animals had

licked away all the soil in search of salt that

had leached out in to the ground, possibly

years ago. Animals laid in that saddle at

night, mostly deer and elk, from the signs.

We sat down at the cusp of the saddle, right

before the ground fell off in to a south

eastern facing drainage, to

take in the view. We took in the fresh

morning air of the desert. We drank deeply

from my jug of water, we got up and started

walking around the side of the adjoining

butte. We walked around the butte to the

southwest and on around to a west pointed

ridge, pointing right to the green splash on

the desert floor. We walked in silence.

We made our way down the ridge to the

desert floor. On the desert floor the trail

widened and pointed strait to the greenery,

almost a half mile from the buttes base.

We arrived at a rock tank, a little while later.

The tank was twenty or so feet across and

four feet hi, it had been built of local rock

and cement.

The rock walled tank was cracked and

empty.

A few hundred feet away, across a used

gravel road, was a water trough, and the

green grass that had drawn us there.

Anna hung her long wool coat on a steel

fence post driven next to the trough.

I bent down, untied my shoes and slipped

them off, leaning on a fence post I removed

my socks and stuffed them in my shoes.

Looking up, to see Anna removing her dress

with care, up over and just clearing her hair.

She hung her dress up and over her jacket

already draped on the post.

She was nude, she turned back facing me,

she smiled as only a shy heart dose.

She was perky, it was everything about her,

Anna, the corners of her eyes, her lips, the

way her ears swept back her hair, her brown

body.

I looked in to her light brown eyes,

and felt peaceful and rejuvenated.

She picked up the bucket ,walked over to the

water trough and scooped water up. She

raised the partially full bucket of water in to

the air and over on to her self.

I heard a controlled smooth gasp.

I was shocked, I had felt the water moments

before, it was cold.

Standing there dripping, I could see mischief

in her eyes, her head lifting in to

challenging adolescent laughter.

Anna was in her mid thirties.

She had challenged me!

I took off my coat, hat, shirt, T-shirt,

unbuckled my belt and stepped out of my

shorts and pants. Nude, I walk over to the

water trough , grabbing the handle on the

partially submerged bucket, I lifted and

dumped the water over my head. A shock

wave passed over my body.

After I caught my breath, I looked to see her

wrenching with laughter, water dripping

from her body.

I reached for the soap and lathered up my

hair, it was cold.

In no hurry, she continued her playfulness

splashing me as I scrubbed up.

She walked over to me and said “turn

around” we had spoken very little, so I

turned around. She started scrubbing my

back with what I imagined was my wash

cloth, she told me to lean forward, grabbing

the bucket from the trough she walked to

my side and pored water over my head and

back.

Gasping for air, I stood up.

I dried off, as she soaped up.

She handed me the soapy wash cloth and

turned around.

I washed her neck, smooth, cleaning her

shoulders and shoulder blades, I ran the

cloth down her spine and out along her ribs,

washing her back with focused care.

She thanked me with a soft voice.

I grabbed the bucket from the trough and

walked to her side dumping the water over

her head, back and butt.

She took a deep breath and breathed out

slowly. She stood up. I handed her a towel.

The rising sun had chassed the shadows of

the buttes back, the sun broke on us and

brought warmth. I looked at Anna, sun lit

drops dripped from her body as she dried

her hair. I was in awe.

We put on our clothes, in a pleasant silence,

collected our stuff and walked by the old

rock walled tank.

The morning sun warmed the desert into

smells of sage brush and juniper.

I heard gravel popping under a tire.

I looked north and to our left, A car was

coming, coming down the gravel road we

crossed. We walked back to the rock tank

and waited.

Several minutes later, a light SUV drove up,

it was Anna’s friends, they had come to

check on her and give us a ride back to

camp.

Though I would have preferred to

walk, the ride was a relief. We arrived in

camp clean, no sweaty walk back, no dust.

Anna and her friends, Travis being one,

where returning to Bend. I felt shocked by

the reality of it. Anna smiled at me, she said

we are going in to town to get supplies for

the next two days and replacing the food we

ate of yours, we are coming back to camp to

watch the meteor shower tonight with you

and all these people.

I felt anxious as they drove away.

There where twenty or thirty people milling

around and at the edge of camp.

I was baffled.

I walked over to George at the fire, said “hi”

He gave me a rye smile, said “cheers” and

told me

“They where all staying another night and

more were coming.”

           See you in a future past life

                         Chapter 6

                  Inside information.


Glass Buttes gets their name from the multi

colored obsidians that are generously

scattered on their slopes.

From what I understand, in days gone by,

Indians use to come to Glass Buttes and

collect obsidian for tool making.

The brittleness and the grain of the

glass like rock makes great spear tips,

arrow heads, and knives.

Glass Buttes has been a destination for many

humans for thousands of years.

The wind swept crown of Glass Buttes is

skirted by junipers shaped by wind, snow,

and time.

These junipers stunted, swept, and gnarled

give the area a deep spiritual feeling. I could

easily imagine these junipers as elders.

To settle in to an area, one must take in the

view, study it in detail. Watch the clouds,

watch cloud shadows lull, and race. Watch

the sun shadows pivot. Smell the air, hunt

sent. Bathe in the wind, find, and feel

textures with your eyes and fingertips.

Scan the ground and horizon for

movement, For change. Identify sounds.

Make your landscape make you curious,

learn.

Challenge your self with a foreign

environment often, relax and move into it

with your mind. “Things that seam foreign,

make common.” you might be surprised

of how it changes you.

____________________________________

I had started on a spiritual journey seven

years ago in two thousand five.

I left California in my car for Iowa.

I built a twenty seven foot trimaran

sailboat out of pallets, plywood, and lumber

retrieved from the logjams, and shorelines of

the Mississippi river.

I ran out of money.

I picked up aluminum cans and did odd jobs

to pay for the screws, and glue I needed to

finish my boat. Humility.

I ate peanut butter and honey.

I washed my clothes and bathed in the

river.

I drank loads of coffee.

I read Gondi’s book, “My experiments with

truth” and listened to Eckhart Tolle’s CD

Series. Vulnerable, I was humbled.

In the course of motoring, and sailing 200

miles to Hannibal, Missouri.

I saved my self many times on that journey.

It was a journey of fears, of capability, of

emergency, of incompetence, of openness,

of restlessness, of long moments of stabbing

fear, of reflection, of solitude, of lengths of

awe, it pealed away many layers of what I

thought was me but didn’t need.

In Hannibal, I was taken in by

the population, I cooperated and

participated, I was cared for and given work.

It was an amazing time in my life.

I traveled all over Missouri, with a potter,

and as a machinery operator for several

rock cories.

This section of the journey, to and from

Iowa, and all over Missouri, lasted about a

year.

I continued my journey to winter in

California,
then Texas where I lived on a sailboat for

the last months of winter.

Realizing I needed a place of solitude to

write, sort things out, and come up with a

plan, and a life coarse.

I went to see my mom in Hells Canyon for

the summer.

On the Idaho side of Hells Canyon, in a

north west facing drainage.

My mom has a homestead, fifty miles to the

nearest serviceable town, no power, no

phone, no TV, running water from a spring,

flower gardens, vegetable gardens,

outhouse, wild fruit trees, blackberries, mint,

a creek with fish, an old wood cook stove,

canning jars full and empty, spices, and

Herbs. An eclectic front porch.

In the bottom of a canyon of black dirt and

red walls.

Another cabin on the property was vacant.

I contacted the owner over the summer

through neighbors and was fortunate enough

to care for the cabin for two years.

I spent most of two winters snowed in, in

the back country.

Desolate winters, with no movement but

storm clouds and shadows on canyon walls.

In the winter, a jet boat delivered mail to

the mouth of the drainage I lived in, where it

flowed into the Snake river, five miles

below my cabin.

With my XM radio (a gift from my Dad),

BBC news, stacks of books, stacks of note

books, oats, beans, canned goods, olive oil,

hours of silent, cold solitude, several

thousand pages of writing, madness of the

mind, a twisting in the human.

I searched my mind for social solutions and

whittled them out on paper, in ink with

words.

I lived in a landscape, of epic proportion.

Hells Canyon and its drainages,

massive, intricate and forbidding.

I traveled back to California, to work in the

fall fields, with a fist full of idealism.


I worked created and built, engaging in

idealism, continually adjusting my ideas to

adapt to the evolving new normal and the

evolving core vocabulary.

I eventually found a house in the Redding

area, where I raised worms, grew peppers,

built worm bins for sale, studied soil

building, revisited and reworked old

writings and plans and had worked to keep

me in loot to pursue my ideas.

Manny of the ideas I worked on are on the

blog the story you are reading now was

originally published on.

All along the way I met amazing people and

formed what will be life long relationships.
____________________________________

Days before, when I left Redding, I was

traveling up to the central Oregon desert and

Glass Buttes to under take another spiritual

journey.

And now, hear I was in a crowd of

people, in the desert, with vivid experiences,

of Anna in my mind.



             See you in a future past life

                         Chapter 7

When multiple foreign perceptions converge

within ones mind, at one time, it easy to lose

the now of the moment.

Out of that haze of mind, I remembered my

purpose of being hear and now, on a

spiritual journey.

Looking around I saw ghost like images of a

crowd of people, my kitchen box came in

focus. I sat down and faced the fire. I was

reeling. I brought my head up out of the

dizziness and focused my eyes on the fire.

Staring in to the fire, I felt this rolling return

of stability to my mind, things cleared to a

vividness.

I regained my mental balance.

I looked up to see George grinning.

Realizing my mental paralysis had been

brought on by an overdose of now.

When I had got out of Anna’s friends rig,

I had looked up and across the group of

people standing on the far side of the fire

ring. Most of them where looking at me and

murmuring. I heard some one say “its him,

its Seth.” it happened right then, a mental

stroke, a panic attack,

Now I was looking at George across the fire,

calm, smiling.

He recognized that I was having

A mental reaction to something.

I swung my head to the left and looked at

the people looking back at me smiling.

I returned a nervous over-smile frozen for

what seamed to be moments. I turned my

head back to George and unlocked my smile

relaxing the muscles in my jaws and cheeks,

(I call it painfully shy).

I looked down in to the fire, George Said,

“these people want to ask you some

questions“.

My heart raced, I felt the adrenalin sear my

veins. I breathed deeply, steadied my

breathing, focused on slowing my heart. I

relaxed, one large clearing breath. I was

relaxed.

I looked back at the group of people and

smiled a relaxed comfortable smile.

My stomach feeling a warm pain of mixing

acids and a ulcer.

Pain has always brought clarity to my mind.

The pain was just enough of a distraction to

bring clarity and focus in to the moment for

me.

Now relaxed and grounded. I asked the

attentive group what they wanted to ask me.

A couple of hands went up, I pointed to a

gal, She lowered her hand.

“Why are you on a spiritual journey?”

I responded with out thinking, “I ran out of

answers.”

She looked at me thoughtfully for a moment,

then thanked me.

Hands went up,

I thought about the exchange between her

and I, the change in expression that crossed

her face, a confirming look echoed in her

eyes, then her mind, in her posture.

I picked another hand, a dusty, blond haired

guy asked, “how do you prepare for a

spiritual journey?”

I smiled, the irony of the question and the

asker, The group laughed lightheartedly.

I paused, I thought, composed I said.

“It starts with, what I bring with me, what I

use as transportation and then what I am

going to do when I get there, to start the

spiritual journey.”

I paused. Then said.

“Planning is important,

unless you need to learn about competency

and preparedness.”

I smiled.

I felt tense, sick.

I needed to get up and walk around. I stood

up and excused my self.

I said to the group and George

“ I just need to go for a walk, clear my mind

for a moment.”

I reached down and grabbed my water bottle

sitting next to the kitchen box.

I looked up the road, there was quite a few

vehicles, I looked down the road, more rigs

parked along side the road. I walked across

the road and up the cut bank, east.

I just needed some desert to think in, Take in

the smells, walk.

I had wanted what was happening to

happen.

But I didn’t imagine it happening hear, or in

this way.

I had to pace my heart, slow my mind, stay

focused and open. I had no answers, but

knew, All the answers I would need would

arrive when the question presented its self.

“If a question is asked at the peak of ones

curiosity, the answer is remembered.” I

thought.

Humm.

“I will answer questions and watch how

things progress.” I though and nodded.

I watched some ants toting loads and

chatting with on coming traffic about the

source of their bounty.

A gust of cool wind, stirred the sage brush,

then a warm current of air settled in its

wake, with desert scents.

I stood up from my crouching study of ants

and smiled.

I walked back to camp refreshed and calm.

I set the tone of my voice at calm and

peaceful, I felt it.

I greeted George “Hi bud”

He said “How is it going man?”

I said “good”

I smiled comfortably and open.

I looked, the group of people where sitting

now, a few less than before, spread out and

talking amongst them selves.

I opened my kitchen box. All of my dishes

where washed and stacked in the box. I

picked a mug out, turned to the fire, and the

warmed pot of coffee, poured myself a cup

and sat down.

He smiled again, saying, “ they have more

questions.”

I got up and walked over to the group.

The area they where sitting had a short

cropped grass and taller tufts of bunch grass.

It looked like wild game and cattle had

nipped the grasses short during the summer.

Clear of sage brush the area looked like a

natural place to gather. Perhaps we were

gathering in the middle of an old Indian

camping spot, it had the feel.

I sat down. The woman who had asked me

why I was on a spiritual journey came and

sat down ten or so feet away facing me, she

raised her hand and waved it back and forth

in a humorous way.

I smiled. I pointed at her and said “do you

have a question mama ?” playing along

with her.

She said “yes”

Then asked “ what did you do to prepare for

your spiritual journey?”

I hesitated. Thinking back, I re-traveled in

my mind the steps I took, gathering up

supplies in Redding and how the plan had

slowly come together.

I asked her, her name.

She said; “I am Jasmine”

I started; “Jasmine’’

“This is what I learned from my experiences

so far.”

“All of my spiritual journeys have had a

jumping off kind of beginning .’’

“I had very little adventure experience in the

beginning.”

“ I have been ill prepared for most of these trips.”

“ On these journeys, I brought to much of

things I didn’t need, and not enough of what

I did need.”

“ Since then I have narrowed the list of

things one must bring down to a essentials

list.”

“First, is always food, you can never go

wrong buy buying non perishable, basic,

easy to prepare or ready to eat foods.”

“This makes the spiritual journey free of

raw survival, unless you are challenging

your capability to survive.”

“Suggestions of essentials to include; “

-“oatmeal.”

-A variety of fruit, oranges, apples, bananas

etcetera.”

-“several different trail mixes, mixed nuts

and mixed dry fruits“.

- “two different mixes of granola. I like to

have some variety even when it comes to

simple survival foods, helps the attitude“.

-“Good water containers with plenty of water.”

“A way to filter or treat water you come

across.”

“All of these ingredients should be carried in

direct proportion to the imagined length and

remoteness of said spiritual journey.”

“A good medical kit ,with bandages, that are

useful!, look at your first aid kit. don’t think

patching up a small scrape, think, the tools I

will need to save my life where there is no

one but me to help me.”

“Bring a well written first aid book, be

familiar with it. Dedicate a sharp knife to

your first aid kit.”

“Hear at Glass Buttes, the obsidian can be

formed in to cutting tools easily.”

“ Nature is full of tools, be aware of your

surroundings and what could be useful as a

resource when you need it.”

“A cell phone, a compass and a map of the

area you are going to spend your spiritual

journey within .”

“If I have a vehicle, I include a kitchen set

up with a sharp hatchet and a five gallon

bucket.”

“I like to carry a canvas tarp. A plastic tarp

will due, but they trap moisture, canvas tarps

also offer more padding and insulation than

plastic ones.”

“Both types of tarps can be used to create a

shelter.”

“A good sleeping bag, one that can keep you

warm in the changing environment you are

going into.”

“Know weather history and altitudes of the

area you will be spending time in.”

“ plenty of Bick lighters!’’

“A lighter in the wilderness is about as close

as you can get to magic.”

“ the alternative of rubbing two sticks

together to start a fire with friction is

daunting, even with experience.’’

The group had scooted in to listen to the

conversation Jasmine and I were having.

“ What did you mean by spiritual journey”,

Jasmine asked.

“My spiritual journey began as I was

planning my trip. As I was planning my trip,

I realized I was planning and packing for

me, and that the level of care and

thoughtfulness I put in to planning and

packing, Would reflect my love for my self.

The love and care for a future me.”

“On my drive up from California, a lot of

things from last summer where on my mind.

I left them in the desert some where between

hear and California.”

“When I filled up with gas in Riley Junction

a couple of days ago. I had started thinking

about what I might do at Glass Buttes.

I felt full of energy, I thought I might map

out a quest. A quest journey, a journey I

might find answers or new questions to

answer on.”

I paused. Thinking back, about the

moments I had spent sitting on the gravel

pile three nights before connected to what

felt like the source.

Sitting there then talking with Jasmine and

the group , I felt a confirming feeling, a

universal fit. My inhabitations fell away.

I looked clearly at Jasmine and the group, I

saw them as they where calm, interested,

happy, distracted, dreaming, thinking

smiling, skeptical, texting, they where all

human, they where all there.


“Three nights ago”, I started out, “I had a

event occur.”

I paused to ponder my story.

“I had a spiritual experience.”

“I have only had two other experiences of

this nature. I say nature, because spiritual

experience seams to confining of a

definition for the experience I had.

I do not fully comprehend the experience I

had three nights ago.

But, I am fairly certain that enlightenment,

Zen, knowing god, having a spiritual

experience, taping in to the source, are all

the same end experience.”

“The closest I can come to explaining my

experiences in full is, seeing the world

whole and inter connected.”

“My first spiritual experience happened after

a series of events occurred with in an hour

or so.’

“This is what happened;”

“First, I stopped by a grave yard to see if I

could find my friends grave. He had been

brutally murdered by his brother. I had been

to his funeral wake a week or so earlier. I

didn’t know where he was buried, but I

suspected it was there in that cemetery.

I looked at the two or three graves that

where fresh.

I couldn’t find him.”

“I got back in my truck and headed for the

coastal mountains and home.

I felt a little lost in wonder to where he

might be resting.”

“I was making my way down a mesmerizing

series of switch backs, zoning out on my

friends where bouts, stretching my mind to

all the possible final places he would be.”

“Then I heard, A local female radio host on

the radio;”

“Do I have this right?” She said. “It would

only take ten noble men one generation to

change the world.”

““Yes“. Her guest, a woman, said clearly

and soundly as if she knew with certainty.”

“The radio host went directly into

reintroducing her guest as having three

doctorates one in psychology, one in

mathematics and one in sociology, from two

different Ivy league schools.”

“She was twenty nine and considered a

genius and had been awarded as such.”

“My immediate thought was,

What dose noble mean?”

“At about the same moment I drove into a

saddle over looking the ocean. I pulled off

the road and parked facing the ocean.

A half sun was descending in to the ocean.

the view was massive and broad. I felt my

self pulled forward, then it happened.”

“I remember, knowledge swarming forth ,

as if volumes of knowledge had always

been stored in my mind, in my cells. Then a

feeling of order to it all, then a deep sense of

knowing, Followed by a great sense of awe

then a great feeling of responsibility.”

“As if my mind and being had momentarily

aliened itself to see the worlds full

potential.”

“There was Then a white flash that rippled

out from me, I saw no other visual imagery ,

just a vividness to the world around me.”

I looked around at the group and Jasmine.

They where silent and staring at me.

I went on.

“I tried to make sense of it all.”

“I thought about the whole experience.

I am not one who sees UFO’s or ghosts.

I am not superstitious.”

“The experience was very foreign to me.”

“I had been wondering about my friend,

broadly reaching with my mind.

Then the guest on the radio show, with her

profound information.

Then I had asked the question to my self

What dose noble mean?

No answer came.

Then the sun setting on a endless horizon.

Then the experience.”

“I believe the shift of mental states and of

emotional extremes, created a mental rift,

a bending or rather a straitening of reality.

A cleaning away of the fog in my reality.

A fog I had been trying to navigate through

my whole life.”

“A purpose, my purpose was to understand

what noble meant. More than just a worded

definition, but to experience it, to

understand it.

“My life journey started that day!”

“The weeks and months after the experience

are a blur. I sold every thing I owned, A

house, other property, machinery, tools,

beds, every thing. I feel into a depreshion.

I spent all most all the money. I found my

self in a mental hospital in Redding

California, about a year later.”

“I spent a month in the hospital, Learning

how to live again, learning how to care for

my self. In the year prior I had lost all the

\skills to live. In Elpida, the mental hospital,

I reoriented my self with my life as it was.

I had sixteen hundred dollars, a car with no

payments and insurance paid for a year.

During the last two weeks in Elpida I made

a plan to go on a spiritual journey, in

search of truth in what ever form it came.

I was open and receptive.”

“I was either going to the desert or I was

going to travel some big river. I chose the

Mississippi river.”

I invited others to come along with me, two

said they wanted to go. I talked the trip up.

When it was time to go they vanished.

I went alone. My dignity was on the line, I

had to make the journey.

I said I would, so there fore I did.”

I paused in thought and reflection of that

journey and those since.

I was still on that journey, I relised sitting in

front of that group, speaking of journeys,

just below Glass Buttes. I was at the right

time and place in life.

I spoke without thinking.

“Now I see noble as; the momentum of truth

within the depth of right choices practiced

every day in ones life.”

“What dose love mean?” Jasmine asked.

I smiled.

I had a spent a long time considering this

question myself. I felt hesitant to answer.

After all it was just my answer or rather

understanding at that moment. Why not?

“Love as I imagine and act it out, is the

multiplicity of thoughtfulness I put into

some thing I do for someone else or for my

self.”

It was getting late in to the afternoon.

I had not eaten sinse brekfast and was

feeling a craving for food.

I looked back over at the fire. Travis, the

fire tender, the guy I had brekfast with was

cooking some thing in a large cast-iron

Dutch oven.

I told the group I needed a break for dinner,

but would be happy to talk again later that

night.



          See you in a future past life.

                          Chapter 8

A large group had formed around the camp

Fire. The beans that Travis had been tending

over the fire where finished.

Travis ladled a scope out to each person who

put forward a bowl.

A quietness followed as folks ate.

I watched people come and go.

Vehicles had been arriving on and off all

day.

By dusk there was a steady flow of people

driving in off the twenty.

People where setting up tents,

building and lighting fires, unfolding chairs,

setting up camp and settling in for the nights

events.

I ate, staring in to the fire, wondering

if this gathering of people was a normal

thing that happened hear at Glass Buttes.

I finished my bowl of beans. Travis had

gotten the dishes routine figured out,   A

large pot I used for canning was on the fire

with water steaming away. Using a coffee

cup, I dipped out some water and rinsed my

spoon and bowl. Towel dried, I returned the

cup, spoon and bowl to my kitchen box.

Walking over to my bedroll I straitened it

out and dusted it off. Sitting, then

stretching out, I lay on my back looking up

at the then revealing stars. I could feel the

warmth of the fire on the side of my face.

I peeled off my shoes with my toes. Then

stretched and spread my toes in the relief of

there freedom and the cooling air.

A moment later a SUV honked as it rolled

by slowly, It was Anna and her friends.

Behind them was a truck I recognized from

the night before. The truck pulled level with

camp and stopped, it was a four door and all

four doors opened, the people inside got out

and went to the back of the truck. The driver

opened the tailgate and started handing

things to the people who had come with

him.

A fifty pound sack of oats, a forty five

pound bag of beans, then another, then came

the fire wood. They where supper stocking

camp. It was neat.

This vibe started to happen.

This young guy maybe in his early

twenties showed up with his guitar. He just

sat down and dove in, he turned into the

vibe in the saddle. Another guy showed up

with a drum, more drums appeared.

Anna showed up, her and her friends had

set up camp on the eastern side of the

saddle, she laid down next to me resting her

head on my out stretched arm.

She rolled her head and faced me, her eyes

bright in the reflection of the fire light,

almost golden. She smiled, I felt

her relax and soften, she rolled her head to

take in the stars. I saw the out line of her

face in the flickering light of the fire,

her nose, her lips, her brow and chin.

I looked up at the stars, with more wonder

than I could ever remember feeling.

We watched the stars and listened to the

building rhythms from around the fire circle.

A meteor skidded across the sky, broke

apart, flashed, then vanished in pieces.

Some one stirred and added wood to the fire

sparks danced and vanished into the night

Sky above.

I wandered off in my mind

The gathering, the almost instant nature of

it, the phenomenon felt some thing like

lightening . Lightening followed by a

thunder clap announcing the change of one

reality to another. A reality in the desert,

a reality of humans mingling with stars and

sparks.

I had experienced the same feelings and

sense of the world when I was a child.

As a hippy child in northern California

during the early and mid seventies. my

parents brought me to a number of festivals.

We went to rainbow festivals, art festivals,

music festivals and community seasonal

party’s in the coastal mountains of southern

Humboldt county. (The harvest festival was

my favorite)

These events of my childhood had

imprinted upon me the potential harmony

that could be achieved by humans in groups

and communities.

I had long believed that there was a

combination of words that could cut through

all belief systems and dogmas and speak

strait to the every human. To activate them,

wake them up out of their slumber of

repetition, unite humans for humans.

That summer, I had been refining my

writing of a social theory and the tenants of

building and sustaining a healthy

community.

I had gone on this spiritual journey to find

the answers I needed to build that

community.

Writing, studying and thinking through the

dynamics and infrastructure of that

community, I hit a wall.

I couldn’t see how to get there from here.

I believed, that my approach, my skill, was

writing, thinking, reasoning and building

perceptions.

Building those perceptions by assembling

ancient knowledge’s, modern efficiencies

and technology, into a highly active human

learning culture.

Anna had rolled over and into my side, just

below my chin she rested her head on my

chest I could hear her breath, slow and easy.

She was asleep. I came down from the

clouds in my mind to enjoy the moment. I

smiled. At that moment I could not imagine

any where else I would rather be than

sharing warmth with Anna.

A few minutes later, Jasmine walked up and

laid a blanket over Anna and I.

I thanked her.

I started thinking about Anna.

Anna and I had spoken very little.

My mind was trying to sort out what it was

that was happening between her and I. Was

she a distraction from my spiritual journey I

was on? Was I blowing it?

Or was she on a similar path and our paths

had just blended?

What ever it was, it was extraordinary.

I wondered, what next? I stopped thinking

about what if, and enjoyed the moment.

In our warm embrace I fell asleep to the

building rhythm of drums around the fire

circle.

I woke up to Anna running her fingers

through my hair. Her head resting on my

shoulder. I turned to her, she was

smiling with a girlish joy about her.

Jasmine had woken Anna up minutes earlier.

Anna said that the metour shower was

starting.

We both got up and walked over to the now

almost vacant fire. Travis was there stoaking

the fire. We sat on five gallon buckets, now

full of supplies. We leaned into the warmth

and the dryness of the fire. Travis greeted

us, handing us both cups of coffee.

He had taken charge of the camp kitchen

and fire. I had seen him earlier organizing

the incoming food and fire wood. Several

more five gallon buckets where next to the

wood pile and kitchen box.

Travis smiled as I looked from the supplies

to where he was sitting across the fire.

I must have looked puzzled, I was.

“Travis what is it that you do?” I asked.

He said, “I am a gourmet chef from San

Francisco.”

“How did you end up cooking beans at my

fire?” I asked.

He smiled, almost laughing.

“Well” he started “ I came up to bend to

look for a house, I am tired of the city and

Bend feels like the place I want live.’’

“Do you have prospects for a job?’’ I asked.

“I am going to take a year off to travel

after I buy my house and settle in.”

He went on.

“ I just got to bend two days ago. My realtor

introduced me to some friends of hers at a

bar that we went to, to listen to music, the

first night I arrived in Bend.

Last night I got a text from a couple I had

met there, they said they where going out in

to the desert to Glass buttes to watch a

meteor shower and that there was this guy

on a spiritual journey. It all sounded

interesting so hear I am.”

“You got a text message about me out hear

on a spiritual journey, watching a meteor

Shower?” I asked, I was shocked.

I had grown use to living an outliers life,

always on the fringes of society, looking in

traveling through, observing, learning. I had

been living an anonymous existence I had

grown to enjoy.

I felt a hand slip into mine, I looked down,

at a smaller hand with long elegant fingers

entwined with my own. Anna sensed my

anxiety. I raised my eyes to meet hers. She

looked at me thoughtfully. I relaxed and

returned a warm shy smile.

“Most of the people out hear tonight,

received a text or message on face book

from a friend, about your journey and the

meteor shower.” Travis said.

“ Really?” I said stunned.

“Yes” he said.

“People have been talking about the ideas

you have written about on your blog.”

He went on.

“I like the Paper you wrote on using flash

mobs to install organic farms.”

“I think it has real potential to change the

food world.” he said.

I could feel my self bottling up nervous

energy.

Anna, still holding my hand, got up and slid

around to my back, her chin resting on my

shoulder, her hair brushing my neck, her lips

to my ear, “ lets walk up to the Butte and

watch the meteor shower” she whispered.

I kissed her hand.

Travis smiled and said “I think you should

do whatever she just said.”

I laughed, short and confirming.

Anna and I stood up.

“Lets walk over to my camp” Anna said as

she linked her arm in mine.

We walked up and into the east side of the

Saddle, passing vehicles parked next to

Camps, the camps covered the whole saddle.

I could hardly recognize the saddle,

fires burned at a few camps, but most were

dark and vacant of people or movement.

We reached her dark camp, she knelt down

and unzipped her tent. Reaching in she

pulled out a full size wool cloak, lifting it

up, over and onto her shoulders.

I was amazed by her movements,

she was graceful, in the dark,

she seamed to float over the ground.

She moved to me, with her arm settled into

mine, we turned, walking slowly across the

saddle to the road leading up to the Butte

summit.

I could hear faint drum rythems up on the

buttes.

The sky was clear, the stars bright and

defined, the milky way vividly flowing, no

wind, it was cooling sharply.

We started up the steepening road.

“Where are you from?” I asked Anna.

“I am originally from England,”


“My grandfather was a barrister in India and

migrated to England to study and practice

law. My father was born in England and

married me mum, she died from stomach

cancer the year before we left.”

“I am sorry” I said.

There was a brief silence as we walked on.

“My father and I came to the United States

when I was seventeen, He opened a business

law practice in San Francisco.”

“I traveled up from San Francisco to visit

some friends in Bend and now I am hear

with you.”

“You never know when lightning will

strike.” I said, as I smiled in to the dark.

She squeezed my arm.

We where getting closer to the top, I could

hear the drums growing louder as we

rounded a bend in the road. The bulk of the

summit came into view as an outline in the

nights sky.

In the dark we could hear people talking in

subdued tones. Still some distance from the

top, we could see blankets spred out on the

slopes of the summit, dark figures moved

slightly, occasionally a finger and arm out

stretched pointing to the sky. I looked up at

the havens. Meteors flickered, drawing

vanishing lines across our view of the

universe. A cluster of meteors salted the sky.

Anna squeezed my arm, she giggled quietly

with joy. I felt a surge of exilaration as we

neared the end of the road. A figure was

walking down the trail approaching us.

I heard a familiar voice.

“Anna, Seth, is that you”

it was Jasmine.

“yes” Anna replied.

We walked to meet her.

“We saved a space for both of you up at the

top of the summit.”

Jasmine said in whispered tones.

Anna gave my arm a squeeze and let go,

Anna and Jasmine locked arms, walking

ahead, up the trail. I stopped and looked

around, the outline of the mountains, sky,

dark valleys, people scattered on the slopes.

It reminded me of a paper I had written

when I was traveling down the Mississippi

river, a psalm of sorts to the traveler.

I had repeated it in my mind some many

times, it was a melody of thought that came

to me during extraordinary moments and

experiences.

I whispered the words as I walked up the

rising trail.


              “The travelers soul.”

“The traveler comes, the traveler goes.

In the wisps of silence he moves.

His cloak worn long with anonymity.

He passes through veils of fear, into who he

has become.

The fragrance of life is his to savor.

                         Now!

A loneliness not so vague gnaws at ego,

bringing him to met himself, and there he is

a traveler.

His only footing is the fresh unknown.

His pool of reflection the world his home.”

I smiled and looked up.

   The Ladies, I could faintly see in the dark,

had reached the top. Blankets some white in

the darkness others just defined black

squares, where spread in every open area I

could see. Some people lying on there backs

under blankets, sleeping bags, hands point,

whispers, a murmur under the drum beat.

A large open area, about ten feet across, was

covered with blankets at the top, I had

watched Anna and Jasmine sit in the center.

I looked around, the whole top of the

mountain was covered in blankets and

people. Down from the summit, on the

northwest side, was a bench. A fire burned,

large with licking flames. A large circle of

people, some feet back from the fire, sat and

stood. The drummers, most sitting, where

enraptured in some rythmatic human

cord. You could hear it, you could see

it in the surrounding crowd. A little old man

frail looking in flesh, wielding two

Tomahawks, beat this huge drum fiercely,

whaling on it with his heart.

Several people danced between the

drummers and the fire, around and around,

caught in the trance of the drums.

It was some thing to see.

I took my shoes off at the edge of the

blankets, straitened my wool socks and

walked just behind where the girls had sat

down. Standing Facing northwest, I looked

to my left at highway twenty pointing

towards Bend.

There was a line of cars as far as I could see,

coming east.

Looking down to the base of the Buttes on

the western side, all around Anna springs,

people where camped, fires burned, car

lights and flash lights bobbed about on the

desert floor.

“There must be thousands of people hear”

I thought.

That’s when I saw the red lights flashing

down on the highway below.

Some one out of the dark handed me

binoculars, I put them to my eyes and

focused them on the flashing lights below.

I saw The highway patrol was diverting

traffic off the highway down towards Anna’s

spring.

A flash of light came from behind me as a

vehicle rounded the ridge below, it was

coming up the summit road, It pulled up and

stopped, two people got out with bright flash

lights. The two flashlights swept over all the

people scattered around the summit slopes,

they stopped to talk to some one, near the

trail head leading up to the summit. The two

flashlights then turned and shined up the

trail, shifted, then started up the trail. As

they walked, occasionally they would shine

over the on looking people.

“Hum” I thought “curious“.

Minutes later, two game wardens showed

up.

Walking up to the edge of the blanket I

greeted them. “ Hi” I said.

“Do you have Identification” one of the

wardens asked.

“I do” I replied.

By this time Anna and Jasmine had gotten

up and moved towards my self and the

officers.

I reached down and pulled my wallet out of

my back pocket, opened it, and handed the

officer my license.

As the girls approached, the other officer

asked to see their identification as well.

They called my name in on their radios.

A few minutes latter he handed me back my

ID.

“Mister Galli can you tell us what is going

on hear?”

I laughed with a “Your asking me” kind of

roll.

“Well officer……..” I just told him the story

Of the past couple days.

He said he had been briefed earlier in the

evening when he came on the night shift in

Bend. He was told that a mass exodus of

people where headed out of

Bend and other surrounding towns

and converging hear at Glass Buttes.

The officer said it was on the evening news.

I looked at the officer, staring for close to a

minute, through him.

“Are you alright Mr. Galli” I heard a voice

say.

I felt a hand slip into mine, It was Anna.

“Yes.. yes I’m ok!” I heard my self say.

The Officer that had checked my ID started,

“This is what’s going on. There are about

fifteen thousand people hear now, we have

been directing traffic off the road towards

the east side of Glass Buttes.

Where are you camped?” he asked

“I am camped just below hear in the

Saddle.” I responded as I pointed.

I turned and looked to where I thought he

meant by the east side of Glass Buttes.

I saw the out line of a ridge past my camp,

to the east, I caught site of a few flash lights

moving around.

He said, “behind that ridge is a large bowl

with a pond in the center and some old

mining sites. There are lots of people

camped over there.” he went on

“What had us the most worried was all the

five gallon buckets people had with them.”

“Until some one told us that they where

getting texts of your conversation about

preparing for a spiritual journey.”

He went on to say

“Every one seams well prepared to camp for

the night. More officers are coming out from

Bend and Burns. We are directing the traffic

flow off twenty into every area we can find

for them to camp for the night. We will be

patrolling all camping areas until morning.”

“Ok” I said.

“Do you want me to do some thing?” I

Asked, With no idea what I could do.

He said “No.”

“We will be close by” he said.

They thanked us and walked down toward

the drum circle.

The drums stopped as they entered the

circle.

They told every one to enjoy the evening

and that Highway twenty was being closed

Down, coming in or out until morning. The

only traffic that was being allowed was

emergency traffic and that two ambulances

where standing by.

The same officer I talked to, pointed down

towards twenty near the turn off to Anna’s

spring and then he pointed down towards

the saddle and my camp, indicating the

ambulances locations.

They bid every one a good night at the fire

circle and walked around the side hill to the

east. They stopped and talked to people

along the way. The officer eventually made

it back to their truck at the end of the road

near the trail head to the summit. They got

in and shut the doors. I watched to see what

they where going to do. After fifteen

minutes or so, I figured they were ware they

were going to be for the night.

The drums had started up with some

renewed intensity. I looked to see Anna and

Jasmine sitting on the blankets watching the

sky.

I smiled thoughtfully.

I sat down next to Anna, Anna moved

behind me, leaned me back in to her lap and

ran her fingers through my hair. She looked

down at me and smiled. She looked back up

at the stars, watching, I watched her for

several minutes and then looked up at the

sky dome, watching, waiting.

I couldn’t think, I didn’t want to think, I fell

asleep under the enormous sky, to the touch

of Anna’s hands.


         See you in a future past life.

                        Chapter 9

I awoke to the air thumping sound of a

helicopter. It was still dark, I sat up and

looked to the east, I could see a faint

lighting of the horizon. A star, perhaps a

planet, shined brightly just above the waking

eastern sky.

The helicopters hack grew louder as it

turned, rounding the south west side of the

buttes. It flew over the valley floor near the

base of the buttes. It flew several hundred

feet lower than the peak where I was

standing. I could see several camp fires

burning below near Anna’s spring. The

helicopter, passing Anna springs and

traveling north, over twenty, then rounding

the northern side of Glass Buttes, on up the

drainage on the eastern side of the buttes, up

into the saddle.

The helicopter hovered for a moment over

the saddle. Flying up the drainage the

helicopter had gained altitude, it now flew

almost level with the summit and me.

The helicopters navigation light blinking

bright in the transitioning light. It turned,

facing the summit, gained altitude, flying up

and over the summit, slowing, then turning

over the western valley and Anna’s spring,

returning to level with the Butte summit.

The helicopter hovered five or six hundred

feet out from the summit, level and facing

me.

The helicopter hovered for what felt like

minutes, then it turned and headed toward

Bend following twenty.

I could see highway twenty below, tail

lights, a line of cars returning toward Bend.

Anna grabbed my hand, puling up close next

to me. Shifting to face her, I pulled her in to

my chest, her nose cold, nuzzled my neck.

She was shivering. I shifted, we shifted, I

looked down at the drum circle fire. Some

one was stoking it. I could see people

standing, sitting up, shaking out blankets.

The sound of voices started to rise.

I could see cell phones lighting up, a few

people near us started talking on their

phones, People were texting.

“Lets go down to the fire and warm up“,

Anna said, between shivers and a set jaw.

We walked down the slope to the fire,

passing now aroused star gazers, some slept.

All where wrapped in blankets or tilted up in

sleeping bags.

We walked between people sitting and

standing near their nights sleeping spots, on

something like a path to a cleared area

around the fire circle. Several people now

stood around the fire, warming their hands

and rubbing the cold out of their clothes,

turning warming, a building conversation, a

gargling of the morning activities, the cold,

the fire. We walked up to a opening around

the fire. Looking around, I spied Travis

squatting down over a large steaming coffee

pot, adding rich brown grounds. I heard

some heavy breathing, I turned to see a guy

carrying two five gallon buckets, he walked

up to the fire next to Travis. Travis reached

in and removed several bottled waters and a

hand full of cups. Moving around the fire,

reaching, he handed me two cups. Travis

looked me in the eyes with clarity. He was

activated. He had taken in the morning

activities, I could see that he was hyper-

aware. Standing next to Travis, the person

who carried the buckets in to camp, was the

same guy that was playing the guitar last

night at my camp, below, in the saddle.

He reached across the fire and introduced

himself, “Hi, my name is Aaron” shaking

my hand, “Nice to meet you Seth!”

I shook his hand authentically, looking at

him I could see he to was activated to.

“Pleasure to meet you Aaron.” I said.

“What do you think about the helicopter“,

Travis said. Smiling, with a wow look on his

face, his hair ruffled and sticking up.

“A cop stopped by your camp last night

Looking for you, did he find you?”

Travis asked.

“No, but we talked to two game wardens last

night up on the summit .” I said.

“What did they want?” Travis asked.

“They asked for my ID and told me what

was going on, and where they had

ambulances parked.” I paused, thinking.

“I think they are parked just over hill by the

trail head?” I added.

The coffee pot boiled over, steaming the

fire.

Travis leaned down and pulled the pot to the

edge of the fire, lifting it, he set it on a flat

rock at the fires edge. Grabbing a water

bottle Travis sprinkled cold water over the

calming, steaming, mixture of coffee

grounds and water.

The cold water helping to settle the grounds

to the bottom of the pot. Collecting

up and handing out a half dozen cups. Travis

began pouring cups full, grateful voices

returned their thanks.

More cups came forward out of the crowd

Travis filled them until the pot was empty.

Jasmine was there, She had walked up and

been talking to Anna while I was talking to

Travis and Aaron.

   I looked at Anna and Jasmine they both

returned perky smiles as they clutched their

cups of coffee. Jasmine had, wool gloves, a

scarf and a pea coat with jeans.

Anna was wrapped in her dark blue cloak.

With her hood up, black hair flowing out

and down the front of her cloak. Hands

forward holding her cup of coffee up to her

lips. She was activated, I watched her look

around the now growing group of people, as

she blew on her hot cup of coffee,

with a twinkle of curiosity in her eyes.

She was slowly moving her gaze across

conversations. I followed her inquisitiveness

as she scanned the now forming crowd.

“They are awake, alive.”

She said, as if she was about to break in

to excited laughter, Anna was getty.

I looked from her around the growing group.

She was right, People where animated,

excited, people where talking on their cell

phones, laughing, eyes bright, reliving the

helicopters flight, retelling the activities of

the morning. There was lots of cell phone

activity.

Up on the buttes was the only place

I had seen anyone use their phone. I had left

mine in my pickup.

It was growing lighter, I could see people on

the slopes above the fire circle, moving

around.

Anna turned to me and said “ I was up most

of the night talking to friends and family in

San Francisco and England.”

She continued.

“We where on CNN last night and this

mornings as a developing story.”

She went on.

“A CNN reporter stood in front of a road

block outside of Bend on highway twenty.”

I was lost in thought, trying to take in the

scope of what was happening and what

Anna was telling me.

I was staring in to the fire, thinking.

I looked up and around at the people

gathered, I fixated on the cell phones being

used, they where magnifying the

phenomenon of the now happening event.

“I wanted this to happen, but why hear and

now, in this way?” I thought.

I saw it all in my mind.

“like digital dominoes Falling,” I thought.

I repressed my growing excitement.

It was out of control though, every one

seamed calm, but there was no real way to

communicate with all these people, no

safety plan.

I must have looked concerned, I was.

I looked over at Travis and Aaron,

They looked back.

“I am going back up to the summit to have a

look around,” I said.

Travis turned talking to the guy next to him

and pointing at the coffee pot. The guy

nodded his head.

Travis turned to me and said, “I am going

with you.”

Aaron followed, “ me to.”

Anna grabbed my hand, I turned, she looked

at me, she was ready to go, Jasmine was

right behind her.

We shuffled around the edge of the fire, the

crowd opened to let us pass. We climbed up

the hill to the summit Anna’s phone was on

vibrate, I could hear its bug like buzz, going

off every couple of minutes, Then it just

didn’t stop. She pulled her cell phone out

and shut it off.

It was getting lighter.

At the summit, I took in the scope of the

landscape covered with camps.

smoke columns rose from camp fires on the

valley floor. Jasmine took pictures of the

butte summit area and the western valley

below. Anna followed with her camera

capturing moments.

Camps were especially dense around

Anna’s Spring, spreading out from there on

the desert floor, camped close to the root

like ridges of the buttes that held the

mountain to the desert floor.

Below and north, the highway patrol was

directing a line of traffic back on to the

highway, back to Bend, where Anna’s

spring road met twenty.

I looked to the east, camp fires burned on

the opposite ridge. People sat in folding

chairs watching the traffic streaming out of

the saddle north to the twenty.

I caught site of twenty, pointing east, a line

of cars pushed on and vanished into the

distance towards Burns.

I could hear it before I could see it,

a helicopter.

A moment latter I saw it traveling east over

highway twenty from Bend.

The sun was starting to break the horizon.

The helicopter approached the buttes, flying

to the north and around the surrounding

area, circling the buttes, then returning

towards Bend along twenty.

Travis taped my elbow. I looked, he pointed

down the trail to the summit road.

The two game wardens were walking up the

trail. We all turned to face them as they

approached.

“Good morning,” “Quite a seen, amazing

isn’t it”

I said, as they walked up.

They both gave me a wry smile.

“Well, what’s going on?” I asked with a low

curious tone.

The two game wardens were local guys, I

could tell, they where as uncomfortable as I

was around so many people.

The game warden I had talked to the night

before had a name tag on his jacket, it read,

“Martin”.

“Can we speak with you for a minute mister

Galli”?…. “ in private!”

Myself and the two officers walked a few

feet away from the group I was with.

I looked back at Anna, and smiled,

confident, I winked at her, she smiled.

I could see concern on her face under her

smile.

I turned to the officers.

Martin put his hand forward to shake, I

reached forward and shook his hand.

The other officer, Scott, I read the name tag

affixed to his jacket, offered his hand, we

shook.

Scott, blond, he wore a white vaquero’s hat,

late twenties, clean faced, respectful nature.

Martin, older, graying brown hair, maybe in

hi early fifties, a silk scarf, a large sweeping

mustache covering his mouth, up to cool

blue eyes. He wore a cowboy hat, white and

caked / stained with age, a short brimmed

ranchers hat. A western man of character, a

man of the desert.

Both wore green pants and jackets with

kaki collard shirts.

Scott stood by, Martin began,

“We have a situation building.”

He said, flat and strait.

“We would like to take you in to Bend,

for your own safety, of your own fee will”

“Why? What’s going on?” I asked, feeling

nervous.

Martin started,

“People are pouring into Bend.”

He paused, he looked at me with a serious

even gaze, as if he was sizing me up.

“ The highway patrol has a road block

on twenty east of Bend.”

“There are ten thousand or better people

bottle neck in Bend, trying to get hear.

People are worried that you might make a

inflammatory comment that might create a

incident.”

He paused, looking out at the surrounding

desert below and the camps scattered on the

desert floor. His eyes came back to me.

He gave me a stressed smile.

“I read your blog last night and I don’t think

that’s what you want.”

“Not at all,’’ I said, with a subdued, stressed,

voice.

I started imagining the potential things that

could go wrong, the people that could get

hurt.

My mind steadied and calmed, my

surroundings became vivid.

I heard behind me, Travis, Anna, Jasmine

and Aaron talking, there voices were

strained.

In my mind, a voice, deep and reverberating

echoed, “Be calm…”

I listened to my breath, I felt my lungs fill, I

breathed out clearing stagnant air from my

chest.

I breathed in, fresh cool air, the smells of the

desert, the sun rising, the shadows stretched

out, a morning wind rattled between sage

brush and juniper.

It was a moment captured by all my senses,

then released with the next exhaling

breath.

I looked back at my group, they where

talking on their cell phones.

I turned back to Martin, with a question in

my mind, my Eyes, he followed.

“These are your friends?”

“Ya..” I said, then paused.

“We have room for them” Martin said.

My mind was examining the elements of the

now progressing events and my part in it, as

innocuous as it was.

I was distracted by multiple lines of thought,

I was staring down in to the valley below at

Anna’s spring.

I looked up at Martin,

“I am going to need to communicate with

these folks.”

I paused, he paused, I started breaking down

what was going on. These people on the

desert floor and on the surrounding lower

ridges couldn’t get cell service.

The people up on the rounded summit area.

I paused.

I had been so wrapped up in the

conversation and complex thoughts that I

had looked right past all the people on the

summit. The people on and around the

summit where all looking up at us, many

talking on their phones, watching, texting,

communicating with each other.

I turned and looked at my group they looked

at me, they hung up their phones.

I turned back to Martin, he nodded

confirming my thoughts, my group moved

over and gathered around, every one

relaxed.

“Martin,” I said directly. He stiffened up.

“They wouldn’t shut all these peoples

phones off, would they?

He looked around, “that wouldn’t be a good

idea, would it?” he said, following my

thoughts.

“There is suppose to be a communications

van on its way from Bend, it is a mobile cell

phone tower,”

Scott volunteered.

Martin turned and walked a few steps from

the group. He was talking on his two way

radio, then his cell phone, Martin came back

and joined the group.

Martin spoke quickly.

“The van is on its way, it just turned off

highway twenty and is headed up the road to

the saddle, it will be at the trail head

shortly.” he paused.

“We should go down and meet it”

Martin tuned and started down the trail,

Scott followed.

It was still early, eight thirty or nine.

It was warming up.

We started down the trail to the end of the

road and the trail head, behind Martin and

Scott.

Anna grabbed my hand, “what are you going

to tell all these people” she said Anxiously,

looking around at the people on the slopes

of the butte summit area.

I stopped, “Officer Martin” I called down

the trail.

Martin turned, “I need to talk to these folks

up here.” I called down to him.

He trotted up the trail, in a moment he was

next to me. “What are you going to say?”

Martin said between breaths.

“I am going to give them my blog address

and tell them that I will communicate with

them through it…. As soon as I get access to

a laptop and internet.”

I paused, I thought, I was making it up as I

went along.

“I also want to tell them every thing is ok,

that the event was unplanned and it had

grown to large to be safe. So, I was

cooperating with local law enforcement in

dispersing the crowd safely.”

Martin, looked at me for a moment, “Ok,”

he said, nodding.

He walked to the side of the trail, opened

and dialed a number on his phone.

I turned and climbed the twenty or so feet

back up to the summit.

“Hi folks, if you could gather a little

closer,”….

The people on the summit knob collected

around.

“First every thing is , ok.

Second, This was not a planed event.

The number of people who

have gathered hear has become unsafe.

I am cooperating with local law enforcement

to disperse the gathering safely.”

“My blog is sethgezzsoupscoop on blogger,

Or Google me, Seth Galli.”

“I will post any news or changes as I

become aware of them on my blog.”

“Please wait at your camp or car until local

law enforcement can direct you safely.”

“Please tell your friends what’s going on, so

they don’t try to travel out hear.”

“this has been a amazing experience to share

with all of you, thank you.”

“namaste”

Martin stood by nervous.

“We got to go” Martin said.

I started down the hill, I looked off to my

right there were thousands of tents on the

valley floor below.

I felt really tired, all of a sudden, it

happened almost instantly, I stopped,

turning to the side of the trail, I leaned

down, hands on my knees, back bowed and I

puked.

I straitened up, Travis was there, he handed

me a bottle of water. A rinse, then a deep

pull draining the bottle.

My sensory system, my mind, couldn’t take

in the scale of what was happening ,the

people present, the now of it all. I had long

been a shadow, a chameleon in and on the

edges of society, an observer out side the

experiment, I had enjoyed the anonymity of

it. That was all gone now.

I felt a clearing, a sense of direction, clarity.

Anna was there, Jasmine handed her a

napkin she had produced from her pea coat,

Anna handed me the napkin and another

bottle of water. I poured some water in my

hand, rinsed my face, clearing my nose and

sinuses, I slicked off the excess water from

my face with my hand, I felt much better.

I smiled at Anna and Jasmine, and nodded.

Martin was down the trail some, he had

turned to see what was going on, he gave me

a “that will do pig!” look with a wry smile.

I had passed some test in his mind, I saw it

just under and in his eyes.

I turned and started down the trail, our group

now strung out walked ahead. Anna a few

feet in front of me, slowed, reaching for my

hand.

We walked down to the trail head and road.

The van was there, behind it was a large

generator. Some technicians where raising a

antenna out of the top of the van.

The game wardens suburban was there, just

down the road.

Martin and Scott walked to the van and

talked to one of the technicians.

Martin, shaking the guys hand, then turned

and walked towards the suburban. Our

group trailed behind, Anna and I walked up

to Martin on the drivers side of the

suburban, he started,

“They are setting up a mobile cell phone

tower,”

The generator started.

“We need to get going,” Martin said.

The rest of the group was already piling in

as Scott held open the rear passenger side

door.

Travis and Aaron sat in the far back jump

seat, Anna, Jasmine and I took the center

bench seat.

Martin and Scott got in and closed their

doors.

“I need to stop at my truck and get my cell

phone, or should I drive my truck in to

Bend?” I said towards the front of the

suburban.

Every one in the group chimed in, needing

this or that from their camps.

I could see martin stiffen, “Are you all

camped in the saddle?” he asked.

“Yes”, we all said in unison.

We drove down and around the butte,

through several switch backs and out on to

the saddle. Martin stopped by a pound in the

lower part of the saddle where the drainage

came together. We all piled out going our

separate directions.

I walked to my truck. The camp fire off to

the left of my truck had a collection of

people standing around it. Coffee cups in

hands, boiling water, some one stirred a pot

of oatmeal, people where talking, waking

up. The fire crackled as wood was added.

    In the back of my truck, my bed roll was

folded up. I unlocked my truck and opened

the door. I grabbed my backpack, unzipping

it, I stuffed some clean town clothes down

next to my laptop. I checked the pockets to

locate my charging cords for my laptop and

phone. Located my phone, a Verizon droid.

Pulled the car charger out, stuffing it in to a

backpack pocket. Found my min-video

recorder, wrapped in a T-shirt, with charger

and extra battery. I fished under the seat, for

a hundred dollar bill I had stashed up under

one of the seat rib springs, found it.

I always new where I was at, when I pulled

the emergency money out. It was time to

find work.

I looked around my truck.

Grabbed the bedroll out of the back of my

truck, putting it in the passenger seat.

I paused and drifted off in thought.

This was not the future I had imagined when

I came up from California.

The summer of two thousand and twelve,

was a mixed experience.

I learned a lot on my journey that summer,

it had many twists and turns.

I had learned a bunch about soils, I

redefined my definition of friend, I had a

inspired month of writing and then, a week

ago I had sold everything I owned. I spent

all but three hundred dollars on supplies for

the trip and set out on a spiritual journey.

In that month of writing, I had been

searching, yet again, for that combination

of words that would speak directly to each

human, to wake them up, to activate them.

Activate, a word I had come to understand

the year before from a friend, Paprika.

Activate, to turn on the human, wake up

their brain, a person of presence , a attitude,

a strong human light.

This is what drives me forward.

Please consider;

The humans spinning through the Milky

way Galaxy.

Where are humans going with their future?

As in a maturing being on a planet called

earth spinning through space, with a view of

the Milky Way Galaxy.

We have the tools but we are slow to mature,

although slow we are learning how to learn,

increasing our efficiency, thus increasing our

momentum, maturing.

Navigate wisely.

When traveling at the speed of light, one

shouldn’t be twitchy, steady the hand and

think through it, then do it.

Now!

Activate, illuminate, cooperate, participate,

produce, reduce, increase, chose, and protect

aaaaalllll human freedoms with fierce

passion.

A sense of rightness,

With in the heart of truth following a line of

self evident thought, a eventuality exists of,

a universal human sense of,

a peaceful enriching coexistence.

In man, first find the truth of character,

then uncover the man, maintain a balanced

view, consider and verify all truth.

Choose wisely.

Consider possibility.

All else is carelessness.

Languish as you may, rolling in your

dogmas.

Still no joy?

Shun rude behavior!

The truth twisted is not the truth at all.

Create a new story, if the one you are living

in is not working.

Noble is, what noble dose.

You have a choice and now you know.

In and with respect I bow to you.

Namaste.

Thank you for reading my writings.

Seth Galli

    See you in a future past life.
                Chapter 10
Time to shake things up a little!
                  Giddy up!!

Note to reader;
This is where the story gets interesting, we switch from fiction to reality. I am nervous as all get out and making it up as I go along, right now.

                   Hears the scoop!

I am going to take a ride across America,

visiting communes, intentional

communities, and organic cultures. Writing

and videoing peoples stories across the

country and sharing them on the web.

The complete story.

On my blog I will have a

“almost daily journal.”

My online journal will report all of my

activities and discoveries, from the handlers

I recruit, to the fire sale of every thing I own

with a special event to kick the trip off, “The

internet search for a intimate female

companion to share the journey with”.

There is a story behind the search for a

woman companion;

About four years ago I went to the Tonasket

Washington Barter fair with my mom.

Barter fair, was a wholesome group of

alternative lifestyle people, fifteen thousand

attended.

My mom had a booth for jewelry she had

collected over the years and was selling. I

decided to write up a “Woman Wanted Add”

as a social experiment and post it at my

mothers booth. The add basically said that I

was living in the back country in Idaho. I

listed the projects and my interests;

Gardening, canning, philosophy, nature,

wine making, rock wall building,

homesteading ect. And that I was looking

for a good soul to share my life with in that

kind of environment. Included was a

warning about being snowed in for several if

not more months.

I put the add up on the front of my moms

booth. It got a lot of attention and was a

topic of passing conversation.

It was funny how it all turned out. I did meet

a lady… wasn’t a good fit. She didn’t want

to live in the backcountry. My mistake was I

took the first offer that came along.

I had met the gal and talked to her at her

tent, I then went back to my moms tent and

wrote on my add, “position filled,”.

Latter, I learned, the guy at the booth next

to my moms, said several gals had been

interested and saw that the position had been

filled and where upset about it.

Hum,

next time I will do interviews, or rather,

women I know will do the interviewing for

me then I can talk to the remaining five or

ten gals my friends pick.

Ok, this is where I am at;

I have been writing this book while I have

been out of work. While writing about a

spiritual journey, I have experienced a

spiritual awakening, I have a quest in mind

and as you can see the planning is underway.

I am ultimately going to sell everything I

own and buy a Goldwing motorcycle,

Something road worthy for the long haul,

but affordable. A good horse!

I am then going to outfit the Goldwing with

a camping system for two, then equipped

myself to travel with the available space.

Then I am going to make some kind of “to

do” out of a search for a female companion,

applications, interviews, the whole nine

yards.

People could probably vote on the woman

they think is a match on the internet…..

Hello, Facebook!

Its all an experiment and I am going to give

it all I got, then, turn all I learn over to you

the reader.

How it could go down.

Purpose of the trip;

The purpose of this trip is to record stories

of people across the land and share them

with my readers on the internet in the form

of a “almost daily Journal” on my blog, I

will also be doing research on the book you

have been reading

“ See you in a future past life.”

To share with folks I met, my experiences

and the journey I am on.

I am going to visit communes , intentional

communities, farmers markets, yoga studios

( for health of mind), Buddhist temples. I am

looking for the vibe and other organic cross

roads.

I want to interview these folks, ask them

about the pivotal moments of their life that

led to their spiritual experiences, their

revolution of mind, those experiences that

led to the turning of life chapters, to the

chapter of life they are now living.

And as a reader, if your town has the organic

vibe, chime in and let me know where, I will

find my way there in words or in person.

(The Proclaimers, I would walk five hundred miles.)


More notes;

To do’s

-Recruit handlers to pledge two hours a

week to sharing/ social networking my blog,

book, and live journal.

-Recruit handlers to find and arrange

appointments with; communes, intentional

communities, Buddhist monasteries, yoga

studios, farmers markets, flee markets, and

any organic cross roads they locate and wish

me to interview as we progress on the trip.

- Recruit handlers to produce interview

questions for the people and communities I

visit.

- Recruit handlers to interview women

interested in being my companion for the

journey. These handlers will select a few

women from those that apply. There will be

three rounds of interviewing until the final

five, then I interview and choose my

companion from the final five with the

assistance of my selection committee.

All women who apply to accompany me

should be come familiar with my blog and

writings, my writings reflect who I am.



                    Are you her?

To the woman of my journey dreams;

There is no doubt that this trip will have its

miserable moments, perhaps days and

weeks.

We will be riding a motorcycle in the

open elements of winter in the southern

states, as spring breaks we will turn north up

along the east coast.

We will have very limited space.

We will be camping regularly.

We will attempt to find lodging with those

we interview along the way.

Our handlers will try to find us lodging as

they can, living room floors (air mattress),

guest rooms, hostels and random

wholesome folks.

     It will be an adventure.

I imagine this lady of choice to be a organic

soul with a strong persevering personality,

warm touch and heart, open, well read, a

intimate companion, a organized team

player, ready to participate in projects the

people we meet need help with, ready to

make it work with a good attitude, and a

passion for the project and the people.

A friend of mine told me;

“Ask the universe for what you need and the

universe will conspire with you to make it

happen.”

So hear I am.

So now I ask the universe for the resources I

need to accomplish the task above.

This is a list of what I need;

-A Goldwing motorcycle in good shape,

affordable or free.

- A wonderful woman to walk the full length

of the trail with me, a intimate relationship,

souls entwined on all levels, lightning.

-Wonderful people from across the country,

lots and lots of them, with stories.

- The wisdom to ask the right questions, and

to listen, to take in humanity.

- The finances to continue the trip, and the

skills and work to bridge any gaps that may

occur.

- Health and safety for both of us.

- The right words to communicate with my

readers, and that my readers may be

changed by reading and sharing my

experiences online.

- That my book is considered by a publisher,

And that those funds will help finance the

journey and the completion of the book,

some where along the way.

- That people, the good folks out there on

the web, participate by producing feed back

and questions, interacting with us on our

journey and sharing our stories with friends.

- Handlers, the right people to help make

this happen as smooth as possible, and that

they live the adventure with me in a way.

-I pray that people will be able to live

through my experiences online and feel

liberation, as I feel it.

Thank you, Universe!!!

Note to the reader.

If you are interested in participating in any

way please use the comment section on the

blog to express your ideas or interests.I will responed in a timely manner.



                          Timing ?

I may leave on the journey as soon as

November or as late as February . It all

depends on how every thing comes together.

And finally, I would like to thank my

readers.

Thank you, you good folks.

Seth Galli

Some last words.

Live life, while you are alive!

Ps. I fixed my blog, you can now make comments, cool, it was turned off ?

               See you in a future past life.

                          Chapter 11

                   Almost daily journal

              Friday September the 14th

I am dragging all my stuff out of my garage

today.

Time to start taking pictures of all my

stuff.

I am going to list all the big items on

Craigslist this weekend.

Humm.

-Two motorized bicycles.

- Ten plus worm frames full of worms

(stackable worm farms.)

- Four, new, five frame worm towers, 1.5 by

    1.5 feet.

- One, new, large worm tower,2 by 3 feet.

- Stihl chainsaw

- One, new, chain link fence roll, six by fifty

Feet.


- 30 steel fence posts and wire.

- A tea brewer, 55 gallon, for actively

    aerated compost tea.

- Several ladders.

- A aluminum movie set camera tripod with

wheals and movement dampening devices

built in.

- a Howell lighting kit for filming sets.

- A collapsible bike stand, for working on

bicycles.

- large live catch trap, in good shape.

- A forty two inch Vizio flat screen TV with

Vizio DVD player.

- A bunch of movies.
---------------------------------------

Changing to a new chapter in my life at 42,

is intimidating to say the least.

I am low on cash and have no work.

So I am going to sell off my stuff until I

have work.

I need to sell my 93’, T-100 Toyota truck to.

Might be able to get fifteen hundred to two

thousand dollars for my truck. That money

will go towards the Honda Goldwing

motorcycle, I will use for my / our cross

country trip.

- I have a Janet Rayner nude pencil sketch,

very graceful, very beautiful, I hate to sell it,

but the play must go on.

--------------------------------------------------

I got a handler to pledge a hour a day to help

organize my trip along the way. Way cool!

She is also excited about thinking up

questions for me to ask people along the

way.

I had a great idea.

Not this weekend but next, I will list all the

items on Craigslist. I will call it a flash mob

yard sale. Only open for four hours 7-11am.

I have a lot of ideas for flash mobs.

I believe a flash mob can build anything.

If the thing to be built or done was designed

to be built or done with mass cooperation,

things could be erected, planted, harvested

and cleaned, as a form of entertainment for

the common man, flash mob style!

I would like to do a flash mob at a organic

farm on my trip across the country, planting

or harvesting a entire crop, almost instantly.

Creating a tourist attraction for the

farm, plus a new base of customers for that

farm.


---------------------------------------------

A discussion.

I am talking to you the reader as I imagine

you across the table from me.

As a singular reader of “see you in a future

past life.”

Dose this material interest you?

Do you feel compelling feelings from “see

you in a future past life”.

Do you feel compelled to travel after

reading?

Would you like to become a part of the

story?

Would you become involved?

           ---------------------------

This afternoon I emailed the Dandelion

commune In Rutledge, Missouri;

The email;

Hi dandelion

I am writing a book about a spiritual

journey. The book starts out fiction and then

on chapter 10 it becomes a nonfiction

journal of a motorcycle trip across America,

interviewing and participating with the

people I meet along the way.

I would like to start a conversation with you.

Seth

----------------------------------------------

Please comment and share.

Thank you.

Seth Galli

            See you in a future past life.

                         Chapter 12
        A almost daily journey/ journal.

                   Fiction and reality.

             What a side track nation.

I am down the road, on my way, some one I

know catches up to me. Says to me;

“you cant do this thing.”

and names all the reasons they believe it

can not be done, They believe it, I can see it

in their eyes.

As they walk along with me. I wonder, how

much further down the road we will walk

before they join me.

Hum, we stop, I smile into their eyes,

“Come with me, let us see it with own eyes,

absorb it with our own minds. Meet the

people, the wonderful people and bring them

the news of what we know, so they may

enlighten us, that we might bring that light

forward, to a new friend, a new community,

evolving the conversation.”

                             Reality.

I originally had the idea of traveling alone or

with a woman companion.

All things evolve….

Best journey invitation ever….ha-ha.

Would you like to go?

As a member of a group of “Traveling

Writer Riders.” Pollinating the nation with

ideas of cooperation, participation, and

wholesome production. Evolving our

strategy as we move through the story.

Recording our story from multiple

perspectives. Always seeking wisdom we

can practice and writing about it all.

Riding, canvassing America, and blogging

it.

Writer Riders, saddle up.

Send me a message.

I am now organizing.

“I love this country, yes I do, and all the folks to, a haiku.”

You are where I am at now.

I thank my readers gratefully.

Seth Galli



          See you in a future past life.

                     Chapter 13

        A almost daily journal/journey.

                    You, the author.

You are the author, of the story you are

writing, the story you are living, life.

Are you aware?

How is it producing good effects?

What is it adding to you?

????

The story you create every day!

How are you adding life to you?

How dose it increase your efficiency, of life?

How dose it add to your momentum?

What techniques have you employed?

How many layers of observation do you

maintain of it, life?

How do you coexist with in it.

What part do you play?

How much emotion do you have invested in

it?

How much do you respect it?

How much do you believe in it?

How are you enriching it?

Are you writing a good story?

Do you see your self as creating the story?

Are you aware you can change your story,

your life?

Are you learning?

Are you creating?

If you don’t like the story you are living,

start telling a new story, then you will start

living it.

Your story will follow the momentum of

your thoughts and words. Believe in your

self, you are real and hear now. Write a good

story, a story you love, a love story of one

type or another.

Write your fiction into reality.

I am writing a new story, A story of reason,

of logic, of the fractural geometry of value

and emotion. A story of communication, of

cooperation, of freedom and of wholesome

production. A story of awakenings. This

story is open to include you.

This is the stage in my story where I appeal

to the readers of my blog and the friends I

know to participate in this journey/ social

adventure, in what ever capacity they can.

The more involved you become, the more

you live part of the adventure, until you

have joined it…

Namaste.

Seth Galli

Some things are best said in other languages.

See you in a future past life.

    Chapter 14

   A almost daily journey/ journal.

Reality, now.

Things are coming together. Friends and

acquaintances are indicating a strong

interest in participating. They have offered

ideas that I will integrate in to our trip.

One of my friends has already put in five

hours. It is amazing what can be done in

such a short period of time. In a few

chapters I will start introducing the people

that are helping me, as timing and comfort

allows. I respect their privacy and want

them to want to become part of the written

story.

A friend of mine has been helping me with

editing, social networking (on and off the

web), trip planning, ideas, and book

development. She is a incredibly busy

person and I am very grateful for the time

she has spent on the project and her

dedication to it.

Another friend of mine, I will call the

Director (film), has been a fountain of great

ideas. (In this chapter I will cover some of

these ideas and how they may be included in

our journey across America.)

My friend the director, also said the trip

needs to be filmed and film projects need to

be integrated into our traveling activities.

He also indicated that he would be interested

in editing and promoting the films.

Update;

I met a guy that is very knowledgeable

about motor cycles, he said I could call him

if I had problems on the trip and he would

help me trouble shoot them and find the

parts that I need. He is very knowledgeable

about trip planning relative to a motorcycle,

such as, methods for riding, gas efficiency,

tire ware, fuel grades, oil viscosities and on

and on, great resource .

All of these people that are helping me are

activated, they are passionate about the

journey and the idea of it. Most of my

friends want to go themselves. They just

might join me for a leg of the journey, who

knows.

Some of the ideas we have been working on;

One idea.

-A new haiku for you. Every day we have a

writing challenge, each member of the

traveling group, writes a haiku and gives it

to some one they meet that day along the

way.

Idea two.

On our journey we carry a three foot by six

foot, maybe longer, piece of painters canvas

rolled up in a tube. In each new town we go

to that has a art culture we find an artist to

add to the traveling patchwork painting .

Documenting its journey on film as it is

created.

Idea three.

We interview people on the road on camera.

Asking them to tell us a story true or fiction.

At the end of each week a story is picked

for; the tallest tail.

Idea four.

We do a series called garage sale stories. We

interview some one having a garage sale,

asking them to tell us a story about some

item they are selling.

Idea five.

Each area we pass through we find or are

given a small object to affix to our trophy,

perhaps a motorcycle trailer that we choose

to ornament.

Idea six.

We stop and ask some one, in any town

USA, on the street on camera if they would

like us to hand deliver a message to some

one in the united states.

After we deliver the message we ask the

person receiving the message if they would

like us to deliver a message to some one for

them.

Idea seven.

Each time we pass a state line and there is a

town on the boarder, we interview people in

that boarder town and ask them what they

think of the state we just left. All filmed.

Idea eight.

To plan and break the trip into legs. The idea

behind this is to make the trip available in

small sections to people who might not be

able to participate in the whole trip. Also

making it possible for more people to

participate in the experience of the journey.

I imagine these legs could conclude in some

kind of event like a flash crowd community

renewal project. Which brings me to idea

nine.

Idea nine

Say twenty or more of us are traveling

across the nation. We are reaching the end of

a leg of the journey. Our plan is to meet at a

river, at some large camp ground. Knowing

ahead of time the destination, we plan a

community renewal project and promote it

as we approach the end of the leg.

The community renewal project could be as

simple as promoting a flash mob river clean

up, or a flash mob organic farm installation/

planting.

Ideally our goal is to use mass participation

to enrich communities along our journey.

This idea will need further work and

exploration of uses of flash crowds for good.

Stone soup.

The plan is developing nicely.

The attraction to this story is growing.

As you can see we will be looking for a few

new members for this traveling creation.

We now need a few film makers to join the

journey, to capture these stories and events.

(I have some film making equipment.)

I think we need a guitar player and maybe a

singer or two, some drums…. Musicians

wanted!

We are open to any traveling and socially

interacting ideas you the reader might have

for us the travelers to do.

We will always be looking for good random

writing assignments and challenges.

More to come.

Tank you for reading.

Namaste

Seth Galli

SeTH GEzz SoUp ScoOP

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

See you in a future past life, Chapter 16

Friday, September 21, 2012

See you in a future past life chapters 1 - 14