Yup, rolled out tonight playing around musically with the kids, sung to the tune of “Jesus Loves Me”

Spirit loves me this I know for my heart tells me so.

We belong to a great source, the universe is always ours.

Yes Spirit loves me, yes Spirit loves me. Yes spirit loves me the universe has spoke.


Prologue

800 years ago, give or take a few years St. Francis of Assisi, the Patron of my Spiritual Charism, cast a new order to go beyond Order of Friars Minor (think Robin Hood’s Friar Tuck) and the Poor Clares (think Nun’s with Feminism dashed in, kind of like Sister Act with Whoopi Goldberg if you will)…

Yet. Much better than a but, Y-E-T- as Francis’ mendicants (insult meaning beggar) travelled spreading the gospel message of poverty, charity, love, and justice for all the interconnected of creation many who were married wanted to forsake their vows and join the celibate orders and…

Yup plus an A-N-D- there was some friars and sisters that well, let’s be honest humanity like every species on the planet is designed for procreation. Francis was an astute spiritual guide in that he realized this and blessed those that are called to be together, to make babies, to populate the world for that is the original commission within the Hebrew Scriptures go forth and out of the indwelling love of Spirit populate the world in love.

This is what birthed the Third, Lay or Secular Order. It was a work by one of these Franciscan’s 19 years into my journey of trying to remember paradise, discover the Spirit within, that working in a bookstore I stumbled upon John Michael Talbot’s (1998) The Life Lessons of St. Francis: How to bring Simplicity and Spirituality into your Daily Life. For someone who had journeyed through many Eastern, Celtic, Pagan, Western and Alien spiritual paths finding myself back in the Christian Church as a Sunday School teacher, this little volume showed me how my beliefs around love and inclusion worked together with belief and living out of God’s love, from the divine spark, the star dust that we are created from.

So dear reader, you are probably wondering what this 800 year history lesson has to do with anything? Especially the book you have picked up to read on different centering values to create a fuller you?

Simple, it is part of the formation of the writer of this book, it has influenced my understanding and shaped any bias within the stories to be found within. Also, when in the mid-2000’s I took the Munay-Ki Shamanic Rites, I was blessed to be labelled a Wisdom Keeper, one that holds the truths of the ancient stories for today.

In the Franciscan story there are many truths for today, but the one to remember as we move through these pages is perhaps the simplest lesson of all:

Within Francsicanism there is no historical Reformation (where the Protestant Church split from the Roman Catholic Church) rather it is a moment by moment reformation of one’s own heart, soul, spirit and community that one is called into.

So thank you for stepping into this new journey, it is a collection of values for all ages. To prepare for this spend time cleansing your energy, exhaling out the negative, and opening your heart to seeing things in a new light. There may be terms that are unfamiliar or may not resonate with you, this is due to my family’s Judeo-Christian Heritage, simply as you are reading replace them with terms that resonate with you.

I encourage you to find the best time of day to do the soul work with these values, take along a prepared kit:

Monk’s Bag of Tricks

  1. A simple bag, back pack or attache case
  2. Place within pens, pencils, crayons, pencil crayons, pastels,
  3. A fidget toy (perhaps a koosh, some Lego, a slinky, mystery box figures, something to play with to clear your mind when you get stumped).
  4. A journal
  5. A book of Wisdom teachings that you can read a snippet of each day.

Armed with this bag in your daily life, either identify a place in your community or your home that you can use as a retreat space to commune deeper within yourself.

So are you ready? This will not be your traditional spiritual formation journey, I mean the book is called Left Field, which for any sports metaphor you know it is usually the unusual team members that do not fit anywhere else.

That is us, those that are seeking the personal ongoing moment by moment reformation of St. Francis of Assisi, not only for ourselves but for our community and out world. So the question is now in your hands, close the book and walk away…

Or turn the page, step into left field with gusto and accept the challenge to create a new you.

Left Field


A new spiritual work…this is a draft of a chapter thought I would share:

For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus.

-Philippians 1:8

Ah the first step in understanding the Cosmic Christ you are, that’s right the star stuff we are created from, that is the Cosmic Christ within, the divine you in unity with the human you in the here and now. The first step in this reality is living a life of compassion. These are simple lessons of life shown not told. It is in the way that you observed your family behaving, how others were treated. Perhaps it was stories told after the fact, or those that became family legend.

For those without a happy family life, perhaps it was the mentors and family you chose to have in your life that laid out the new reality. This is the reality that exists, and that by beginning this new journey you may see again.

One who is not envious but who is a kind friend to all living

entities, who does not think himself a proprietor, who is free

from false ego and equal both in happiness and distress, who

is always satisfied and engaged in devotional service with

determination and whose mind and intelligence are in agreement

 with Me-he is very dear to Me.

                                                –Bhagavad Gita 12: 13-14

The fruits of the Divine within whether you term it Spirit, God, G(o)od, Vishnu, Krishna, Dharma, Karma—the list can go on, but what is evident is we know the star stuff exists as science says, and from that we live out the compassion that burns brightly. By acknowledging it and listening to it, we move beyond the “Old Laws” like Moses character was used to lay out in the 10 Commandments (and the 617 in Leviticus) that in our infancy story guided us towards a selfless self-love life that drew us closest to the divine.

My family was raised with many living examples of the simplicity that is compassion, as Paul wrote to the church in Philippi there is a compassion within each of us as was witnessed in the life of the Master Teacher Jesus of Nazareth. This is the compassion that if you take time to be present in your own story, and the great story around you will see.

In my own life it was being 16 years old and being at my Granddad’s funeral, having many of the now adults that grew up in the town with my grandparents and them sharing the open door they had in their home for the neighbourhood kids, always having the open listening ear to help them work through life issues to come to a solution.

It was hearing about my Grandma Ragan working in a diner in Canada around the Air Force bases, and refusing to bend to American soldier’s whims not to serve African Canadian Soldiers and welcoming them all in. Her following the life of a friend of my Uncle’s of Japanese descent and celebrating his milestones, even though she should have been of a generation that saw him as “enemy”.

It was the open welcoming door in my own home growing up, where whichever person entered became part of the family. My Mum and Dad always having a helping hand for friend, family, neighbour or stranger whether it was help with child care, food, rides or just a listening ear, and a strong shoulder for tears.

These were not people that trumpeted their simple acts of compassion as anything more than simply what one did in life to help another member of the family that is humanity. It is stepping away from mourning what “we don’t have” or “what we can’t do” to looking at the blessing we are, the purpose we have been given and are doing, to something deeper.

N-A-M-A-S-T-E-

The divine in me sees and recognizes the divine in you.

To one step more…even when you don’t I will see it and respond to it, and interact with you as such to help bring you begin to see you as the truth of divinity you are.

An ancient story was used by Jesus of Nazareth, Brother Jesus in Franciscan teachings, from the Gospel of Luke. Luke was a physician and a historian who tradition of the church states in his works Luke and Acts of the Apostles set out to write an orderly historical account of the early church. What is also noted as you read these works as one, these are not high faluting theological texts like John (Greek) or Matthew (Jewish) or a Roman Action Flick like Mark, no Luke is like the investigative reports of the ancient world.

It starts with the story of a girl without voice, nothing more than property, that God breaks that culturally established walls of propriety and asks Mary of Nazareth, if she wants to take on the shame, the outcast, the challenge of a lifetime in becoming a living example of compassion to the world. Would she become a mother out of wedlock? Essentially if her betrothed did not choose to follow would lead to her execution by stoning or being cast out the city to become a beggar/child sex trade worker for survivial.

Yet she chose the power of love, hope and compassion. Mary chose her yes.

The rest of Luke’s works are filled with stories that poke the bear if you will of cultural norms and challenges them. I do believe if Luke was writing in the Twenty-First Century about the church he would tear open the idiocy of the debate around full inclusion by sharing power stories of the divine within the lives of Trans folk, LGBTTQ, the single parents, the addicts, the abused, the fallen from grace and those with disabilities in such a way that they would be as fully included as Mary of Nazareth and lives as celebrated.

But I digress. For this is the backdrop of the writer as Brother Jesus is answering questions. And then a powerful story emerges over a question of “who is my neighbour?”

25 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus.[a] “Teacher,” he said, “what must

I do to inherit eternal life?” 26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What

do you read there?” 27 He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all

your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your

mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” 28 And he said to him, “You have given

the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

29 But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell

into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving

him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when

he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite, when he came

to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan while

traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. 34 He

went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then

he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The

next day he took out two denarii,[b] gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care

of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 36 Which

 of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of

the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go

and do likewise.”

-Luke 10: 25-37

At this point it is time to pause and let the story speak to you. This is a mix of breath prayer and Lectio Divina. The Divine Reading as taught by Ignatius of Loyola as a method of study to allow the inner divinity to speak to you through the ancient stories. Read the story three times, if you can find an audio link online then listen to it. With each reading/listening there will be a question to reflect upon.

Sit comfortably, slow your breathing, focusing on it. Feel the environment you are in fade away. Feel the gritty sand get between your toes, the arid desert air, the sounds of the market place, bleating of live stock, haggling. Take in the aromas of the sacrifices, the fresh food, cooking, children singing and dancing, soldiers moving in and out taking what they want. You find the small group surrounding the labourer who has become a rabbi. How not many know, but they have all heard the legends of this man, the whispers that he is the bastard child of a Roman soldier, yet there is something in his manner, the way he looks upon everyone with tenderness, and compassion regardless of who they are or where they are from, he draws you into the conversation. The lawyer asks the question…who is my neighbour? The priest and the levite are so heavenly minded they will not stray from the rules of holiness to help someone in need, which makes them no earthly good. The Samaritan is part of a race from an exile of ancient Israel that saw them remain in exile and inter-marry with the conquerors, they worship God differently, they are seen as traitor’s to the chosen people, the stereotypical villain of every story.

Hear the story for the first time, during this reading as you walk through as the priest. What times in your life flash back to when you responded as the Priest and Levite? What truth emerges in these memories as you sit with them? Now as you sit write them out, colour them out to cleanse your Chakra energy of this negativity.

Sit looking at the old, are you ready to release this way of being? If so walk it out the garbage bin outside your home, rip it up and throw it in, walk away from this old way of being. If not note why, and come back to it later.

Hear the story for a second time this time as the Samaritan left hurting and bloodied by   bandits on the road side. What comes to you, with those that at first walked past  that you expected aid from and none came as with the Priest and Levite? Write and colour this out in your breathing again to get it out of you. In these moments where did aid come from surprising sources, take this thought and enter it into your journal as a reminder of times when someone else’s divinity came to you.

Are you ready to dispose of the hurt and pain of being left by the roadside by those you believed to be friend or helper? If you are take the walk as before and dispose of, if not place in your journal and note why you are not ready yet?

Hear the story for a third time, this time hear it as the Samaritan. What makes you stop? What times in your life have you lived out this compassion regardless of labels? Not these in your journal to remind yourself of living compassionately, invest these in your heart and sit with them.

Slowly bring your breathing back to normal, the aromas of the market place vanish, the sounds dissipate, the sand and breeze are gone, feel the chair reform around you, hear the sounds of your world, and the new aromas of your world. You are back and have a question to answer? As you interact with your world, others in your community, your workplace, your place of worship, your home and within yourself.

One simple question to answer: 

Who is my neighbour?

 

One simple question to answer:

Who is my neighbour?


It is so weird when we speak of inclusion that there are still the “stigmatized” out there. I remember years ago when I first entered my mental health journey being told, “don’t say anything” or “others will see you as weak if they know” or “leaders don’t speak of their weaknesses.”

Weakness?

That is the wrong term to be used in regards to depression/anxiety, or even disabilities. All misnomers. Our world is made up of many different types of people, who have different abilities, and also mentally/spiritually experience the world differently. By moving towards exclusionary terminology, labels or even worse degradation to less than they are capable of being. For it is in building a world, where each person can excel to their fullest potential that is needed, not one where we place our own ideal of what is “normal” or “civilized” or “healthy” onto everyone else. For it is in trying to bring others up to our desired level that isolation, aloneness and seperatedness from community happens to the point where I believe it creates a huge contributing factor to the rise of addictions of every shape, for it is easier to allow something to overtake your life to the point of not being in touch with the reality around you, than to be a constant disappointment to the reality around you.

Think about it?

Are you willing to provide support for individuals to become full partiicpating members of community in a healthy way?

Are you willing to look beyong labels to who they truly are as a divine being?

Is the community you are a part of willing to open their arms in a welcoming fashion regardless of cultural/societal label and create a courageous and safe space for all?

Hmmm… or are the words of inclusion empty platitudes to make us feel better while we do not need to transform ourselves or our world for the better?

What is inclusion for you?

What does it take to shine the light into the Dark Nights? And allow the rainbows through the bleakness of day?

How much does it cost for everyone to find a true Home?

How Many Boxes?

Posted: August 10, 2015 by Ty in New Thought Journal
Tags: , ,

It is astoundingly queer as my Nan would say

for us today that would be strange,

regardless of the life one has lived

affluent or pauper

that in the end,

after the good byes

the mourning and the funeral song

what is physically left of one’s life when all is said and done

is a few boxes and bags of papers and personals

the number of such changes depending on one’s station in life

truly reveals

that what matters most

is NOT the number of boxes one leaves behind to fill,

BUT the life one has left

that fills the hearts and souls of those who live on

reflecting that life in their day to day actions.


The First run at the prologue for the new book…a step in getting the dust out if you will:

For the past 24 months I have admittedly struggled in getting a book together. All that began to change in July of 2015 I entered into a course at the Calgary Centre for Spiritual Living. It was to be a fun summer course playing around with manifestation and energy. The course was based on Pam Grout’s 2013 book, E Squared. It was 9 do it yourself energy experiments. Experiment # 4 The Abracadabra Principle (pp. 67-88) is what birthed this book. For in it you are to manifest something simple in your mind.

Me being a man before reading the chapter was going to manifest the completely accessible bungalow home that my family needs, but then read the chapter and the instruction on starting small realized that as a book I was reading wound down and decided to try manifesting my wife, Shawna, getting me a new book without saying anything. A safe bet for these 48 hour experiments or so I thought, for the 48 hours came and almost went and no book.

Except—drum roll please—a new book. That is the volume you are currently holding and reading. See in conversations during those 2 days with Shawna, what was birthed was the title and outline for this little book.

Quite the thing, as it came about a year into my family’s new commitment into the New Thought movement. Each chapter will explore a different theme, and a metaphysical narrative for understanding and application for one’s life. Things rolled along quite well as the outline fleshed out, and kept going with the course, then hit two more experiments, one around weight loss and one around gardening.

Ooops. The greatest hurdle to energy work or in my case writing suddenly hit the bricks: P-R-O-C-R-A-S-T-I-N-A-T-I-O-N!

The procrastination tool to avoid homework for a course is what writing can look like, but when one has not been able to create a solid work for a while as a writer, well then you take the run when you can.

Let’s be honest that everyone has a key procrastination tool. For Ty Ragan, I am that procrastination tool, a character that has existed in one form or another through various incarnations within his fiction stories. These stories whether mystery, adventure, pulp, super hero or all the previous existed within the Tyverse as he so admirably dubbed it (most recent adventures available on his website: tyragan.wordpress.com). I have been a detective, a pastor, a sidekick, a super hero, a trans-dimensional mystic, a mentor and…

            I even manifested at one point as a Tulpa, as Ty was journeying through his Franciscan formation to aid him in reconciling his past, and working on bringing together his journey through multiple religious paths. Now I am introducing the new book. Why?

            Simple, there was a mystery-mystical story in the work that has stalled out several times for my new identity as John MacCurtis, mayor of the city, former sidekick, and dragged back into the life by a mass murderer targeting former teammates. Yet it could not get beyond the first 500 words. So I decided it was time to get into a published work after 28 years of kicking around and kicking butt, providing the odd spiritual guidance that brought together fractured pieces from a burnt out time of life, to fully accept who he was.

            Now this book is going to be another journey for the reader. A next step in the spiritual journey of wholeness by looking at powers within our being that when discovered, reflected and empowered upon can and will create a new spiritual self.

The new spiritual self. How do you get there? It is a constant process in working on yourself, but also outside yourself and with the other. Those around you, the community you exist in. Finding a safe community to grow in as well.

Community is the key piece that many forget within their spiritual journey. Especially in the Western World we have a hold on to individualism, the sad part being that by tying it to only us on our journey, not a “we” on the journey, the key piece from most of the master teachers: Buddha, Bahhaluah, Jesus, Mohammed, Moses, Francis of Assisi, Dalai Lama, Ghandhi, etc. is lost for they did not exist within a vacuum, they did not manifest and transform as individuals. They were full participating members of their society, they had connections with others, and were positive justice focused participants within their world for the better.

That is the journey of the book you now hold, looking at each power/emotion/energy there is a piece of the meta-narrative, the story of the Universe it is tied into, there is a piece tied into the weave of the threads of you, and then there is a way that you connect into your community.

By turning the page, you are accepting a step into learning this new reality and preparing to live out of this new reality to transform the world.

The question is simple;

Are you willing to create a new you and a new world?


Yes I have been struggling with writing for a few months, almost a year or more…not short time projects, but putting together a new book for publication. Part of this struggle comes from the ease of publishing online via blogs etc. Part of it is the idea of taking money for spiritual guidance, which is why I was thinking a fiction work was needed.

In the last few months, here are the few excerpts of two new and halted projects:

The coffee should have been consistently good, someone forgot to inform the new franchisee of that fact as Jack MacCurtis gulped a mouthful of coffee grounds that he deemed necessary to discreetly spit back into the cup. It was time to go, as he finished the apple oatmeal muffin. Zed had called him on his cell phone and asked him to come by the Centre.

                It had been a few years since John had been inside any spiritual place, not since he chose to walk away from his ordination track, and stick to being a writer…okay blogger, but in the reality of Canadian conglomerated media it made no sense as it truly tied one’s voice to being nothing more than a corporate shill. The slide cell phone his girlfriend mocks for the Luddite social-media writer vibrates.

                “Jack here.” There is a blast of static, a crackling voice that begins to take raspy shape.

Jack recognizes the sound of the breathing apparatus of his long term mentor. “Jack.” Each word punctuated by a gasp for oxygen. William McKay was a private investigator who usually did the schlocky divorce jobs, corporate espionage etc. His nick name was Shotgun, why? Simple, in mostly gun free Canada, he would keep a shotgun in the trunk of his car as a persuasion device if things went sideways. Which was not often for the 6 foot tall man who crested close to 300 pounds. But handlebar moustache aside, one day investigating a Klan rally ended with gun play and him trussed up in a bonfire gone south.

                Now William was cared for by his long term companion, Rex O’Neil, a lifer in the public school liaison role for police service, as the last bout five years ago had left him with most of his lungs burnt up, and a quadriplegic.  “What’s up Will?”

                McKay begins filling Jack in. “Shady things at Zed’s joint.”

“I am on my way, just waiting on transit.” Will begins kibitzing to Jack about why the man chose never to drive, it was too hard on him to re-explain to his friend that his mind was no wired to be able to easily focus on one task that it required to drive.

                “Seriously Will, what can I do you for?”

“Well kid, you really aren’t my type, but Zed is needing aid, and figure you are a good ground work man.” Jack steps onto the bus and flashes his pass as Will continues. “Something weird is happening at the Centre and you were the one I thought about contacting.”

               **************************************************************************************

Chapter One

The left hand scars…reminders of the heat of the flames in the van…tears and screams… Unable to move. The drive shaft piercing through the left knee cap. No longer able to walk unaided by a cane. Scarring on the left side of his body. Cleanly shaved head, goatee and whiskers, missing the left eye, the heat and smoke damage to severe.

                His gold signet ring on his right pinky tapping the oak of the podium in the June day sun. The press conference no one thought he would call. But as mayor it is time to be responsible. Three weeks and the flashes are still there.

                “Three years ago the people of this city graced me with a second term as mayor. This was the year to clean up the corruption in our city. The year of the battle, a battle we were winning…” Scarred hand is trembling. Her hand goes onto his back. Jake (Jacqueline) Slick, body guard, daughter of one of his former teammates, what seemed a lifetime ago.

                His rock, her fiery red hair reminding him of the flames of what he lost. When those he took on finally bit back, what he was expecting to deal with on his own, he had forgotten this wasn’t just the good old days when it was friends and the single life. But it was no longer the single life.

                For it was his family. Back from the Pride Parade when it happened.

Still feel the smoke filling his lungs.

                “You stood with me as we indicted our corrupt leaders in the police, fire and health services. Stood with me as we cleared out corrupt city management, and councillors. Then we went after the builders who were using unfair campaign leverage through donations to curb the market on housing, and actually create poverty and homelessness in this city. We stood as a community and fought back.”

                 His good eye looks to the crowd. The battle had raged. How many weird things had he been involved with before he became mayor.

                From his teen years as a supra hero PinBall with his best friend… to super spy in young adult hood when his powers faded… then a mystical archer (Bionic Archer)…to back to being a humble journalist before mass media conglomeration…to being believed dead as he was sucked into another dimension and became a Tulpa (Buddhist guide)… to new life here and now, first as a teacher, then as a street pastor and social justice activist where he fell in love.

                Robin…no vows, simply love, with three children…Rex, Rick (after his best friend), and Kyler…

A new life and a wife that believed to truly change the soul of the city one had to run the city. Mortgaging their house—twice—to win to large majorities, refusing corporate and union donations, and not taking any donations over $50 from one person to ensure no one person had a stronger voice within City Hall than anyone else.

                7 hard fought years. Then the last big challenge to happen. Rooting out the construction contracts. Someone fought back.

                “I have literally been to Hell and back, but I must admit that is what I believed, as you can tell from the memoir I release in the first year of my second term to come completely clean with you, the citizens who government was meant for. In Canada constitutionally we are guaranteed Peace, Order and Good Governance. Gothic City Alberta hasn’t always allowed for that. We changed that.”

                Working with the Canada Revenue Agency he had challenged the last holdout of corruption…the Religious network. In and out schemes of money, living larger, as the working and lower classes suffered. Began auditing, and shuttering churches and temples.

                He had a lot of enemies before his political life, and each month in the Mayor’s office created new enemies from each sector.

                “Evil has not one, but my friends, I am tired. They took the love from my life.” The lone figure standing in the rain storm, lightning crackling across the sky and thunder claps. Children singing. He tried to swerve. Arms came up and aimed. Robin grabbed his arm.

                A lightning crack. Explosion of fire.

“I need to pass the torch to you the citizens of Gothic to continue the work.”

                Jake squeezes his shoulder again, as some tears begin to stream down his cheeks. In all his years he has never been this beaten. “For as of this moment, since they took my family, I resign.”

                A red laser flash from the clock tower in city hall. Flashes, microphones pushing forward. Screaming questions. Commentators asking if the rot would seep back into the city now that the hero was leaving the big chair. Over the past 7 years had there been enough back bone built up. Or was the murder just showing that good could never triumph.

                Jake takes the podium mike. “Mayor MacCurtis is not taking any questions.”

Using the cane, John MacCurtis moves down from the podium and begins walking towards a waiting taxi cab. Jake follows. It was a weird feeling the last time such a large press conference had been called was during his first term when the “Great Crime Fighters” reformed for a short time and cleaned up the ultra-violent anti-heroes of the new generation. The Feds then sponsored the team and they vanished from the work a day world.

                John officially retired from the hero game as his powers faded for a third time, and he settled into focusing on city clean up. Which is what he really wanted to do anyways, but now, now it was simply time to stop.

                John stops at the door of the cab as Slick catches up, he leans in to Jake. “There’s someone in the clock tower tracking me with a rifle site.” Jake touches an ear piece and relays to the GCPS who are throughout the square. “Part of me misses the days I would bounce up there and take the poser out.”

                Jake smirks. “John you got a bad knee ya ain’t dead.”

John smiled. His eye moved to the clock tower, and diagonal down in the sandstone building to the centre right window that was darkened. His old office. His good eye catches the fluorescent vests of GCPS and taking down the gunman.

                “Got him boss. Twenty-one year old Neo-Nazi want to be.”

John laughed. “Wow, can’t believe in the 21st century that drivel still attracts the young.”

                They get in the cab and it pulls away. The radio in the cab has commentators reporting on the big announcement and if there was going to be a comeback. “Seriously John, what are you going to do?”

“Besides get a good therapist?”

                “Yea, besides that.”

“I don’t know, Jake, I honestly thought I would round out my second term, and then go back to teaching at University, but then.” His voice catches in the back of his throat. “I want to kill the son of a bitch that shot the rocket into my family.”

                “You’re not a killer John. That’s why you hero types usually hung out with my family.” Jake Slick Sr. was a gun for hire that worked with the heroes of the day, and was one of the few of the old guard that could get away with taking a life here and there.

                “Sometimes things change.” He twisted the elephant head of his cane, it kept sheathed a sword, one more piece of defense. There was still a piece of him that knew the killer would come to finish the job. The announcement would only placate the attackers for so long.

             Chapter Two

Six months may seem like a long time for others, but not for John. The hot shower was refreshing after a long day of not being the mayor.

The journey of the writer out of the block being ignited with a new idea came through the E-Squared Course this summer I started (okay like week one, but hey count your blessings where they come from). It is coming through reading a quote within Pam Grout’s book E Sqaured around St. Francis of Assisi and Barbara Walter’s and another section around the myths around anthromorphizing God that to quote Gru from Despicable Me “light bulb”…

That’s right the walk through on the shaping of a faith in the idea of healing the world, and investigative journalism to discover truth, and live life holding the story, realizing there was a reason the past ministry roles did not fit, and why there was so much struggle as my understanding has never held to the idea of Original Sin, but rather I have always centered on openness, love, and Original Blessing.

Which led to the next “light bulb” with the quote of playing in left field, and realizing that is a way to describe my vein of spiritual teaching…and the click of the next step on the writing path, the next story to be told.

That of my spiritual understanding: metaphysical interpretation and working with stories from my mystic, Francis, master teacher, Jesus and Buddha, and other wisdom teachings. Next steps…to begin writing, and wondering what stories others may believe have shaped my spiritual journey to explore along with the ones I will?