Posts Tagged ‘John MacCurtis’


It is weird the things that run through your mind as a disembodied journalist, who has a theological background (though comics and myths already alluded higher meaning to me). As Rick floats through this weird limbo since imploding the dimension once known as Camelot.  Must be Anglican guilt speaking to him (it’s like Catholic guilt, but the inner voice comes with a British Accent) …for it is the story of Salome that speaks into his mind when he notes the small portal spark open and mind push Pen through to his wife.

Time to change things up. Time to be able to step through the horrors forced to be apart of. A child, used a lecherous offering by a megalomaniac villain. Herod Tetrarch. The Herod family was not about their faith or their people, they were about power. They played all sides of Roman Civil wars to ensure they always maintained power regardless of the winner. As Rick sends Pen through he sees the Ashram, Zed reminded him of the Herod family.

Yet this Herod may or may not have killed his own brother to wed his brother’s wife. But only to legally get to the niece.  This is the activity John the (Harbinger) Baptist called him out about publically, and was imprisoned for. But the line about the woman scorned. For it was Herod’s wife/sister-in-law that saw the need to go further. One of Rick’s favourite versions is found in Levi’s reimagining of the Cosmic Christ story in the early 1900’s the Aquarian Gospel.

But it is the lecherous uncle that truly wants Salome, and gets her to dance/strip in his drunken party.  And when she has him so wound up, he states he will give her anything, and that is when the mother strikes stating for her daughter to ask for John’s head on a platter…and yes it does not go well for the young Salome presented with this dead head on a silver platter.

The pursuit of absolute power pushing out anything else. The drive for revenge and being “right”. All warnings for any hero.  Warnings to ensure decisions made do not affect the young or that trauma is not passed down.

Rick’s astral projection was not alone in these ruminations. For next to him, was his old partner, John MacCurtis. Believed dead. Unable to be redeemed after he had been possessed by an insane alien entity seeking to destroy all.  The death if the truth was fully leaked out would have left him tarnished, cast away as a traitor, a fraud. His long hero lineage not seen.

Which brings Rick back to ancient ponderings around the child Salome, and the woman Salome at the tomb. The ultimate healing-redemption for this traumatized-abused child assassin.   For there is growing thoughts after the head on the platter she fled to the streets, and found home within the Christines. Even so to become part of the strong inner circle of women that stood their sacred ground at the darkest time.

“Rick what’s the score?”

“About the same Johnny.”

“Funny I thought we used to have bodies.”

“Okay maybe a bit worse off than usual. But I got Pen to Susan.” Rick said.

Rick’s mind was reeling, they had to get back. Pen was a toggle back to the mortal realm, the earthly what was usually known as Midgard. But there without him, the ancient evil had re-manifested. He could hear the echoes. The implosion of the realm that trapped him here had kept him trapped had allowed for the cell to break open.

John glanced at the small portal as it was about to close. Rick was his friend. Had been for most of his life. Partners in many world saving ventures. Rick had stood by him when he lost his family. Stood by him through the craziness with the Thor possession. Stood with him through the mayoral race. Through being mayor. The dark time and the re-emergence. And even with the darkness seizing his soul again. Yet even with dying so that the world could be saved, and being on the wrong side of good in that moment. His friend came for him again.

But it was time.

Time to truly pay him back.

“Rick!”

His friend turned.

Focus complete.

Energy shared.

Peace earned.

With two final words

“Bionics On!”

As his fist knocked his friend towards the portal that he was tethered to Pen through.

John MacCurtis winked at his friend.

“Give Susie a hug for me.”

Rick’s astral body struck the portal before closure.

A flash of lightning.

As the limbo remaining from Camelot.

As John MacCurtis.

Winked out.

To Be Continued…


  1. How can you see the splinter in your brother’s eye while you have chunks within your own?
    21.First take the chunks from out your eye and then you may behold the splinter in your brother’s eye and help him take it out,
    22. And while your eyes are full of foreign things you cannot see the way, for you are blind,
    23. And when the blind lead forth the blind, both lose the way and fall into the slough.
    24. If you would lead the way to God you must be clear in sight, as well as pure in heart.

-Aquarian Gospel of Jesus the Christ 100: 20-24

Zed attempted to kill me instead of allowing the journey to free my friend to unfold. The question that needed to be asked is freed from what? Something was blocking me. In some religions, they call it sin. In other forms of spiritualism, it is the ego or the shadow that derails you out of the flow of creation. Is this what the Thor entity represented to my friend?

Ancient Rabbi Jesus of Nazareth taught about the log in your own eye while you picked at another friend’s sin.  The challenge on not being able to see yourself or what is going wrong because there is always someone else you can say “at least I am no them” or “at least its not that.” Completely missing the point that those chunks floating around within your own eye are clouding your soul. Is this the journey, better yet the grail quest I am on now? To be able to remove the chunks from my own eye? Release my ego and re-enter the flow properly? Is that where this journey is leading.

Susan is lightly snoring on the sofa when I re-enter the house, Pen is still on my shoulder purring…yes, I realize it is weird to think that a dragon would purr, but the gaffer is species fluid. I pull up the afghan on to her. She mumbles slightly and turns her head into my bruised knuckles. After all these years, you would think I would learn how to throw a punch that wouldn’t hurt so much? Check that I am used to throwing punches in mystical armour, but Zed had shown something is going down, and I need to figure out how to bridge the gap.

It is almost impulsive to rub my own eyes as I slump on the floor by her head. The light in the hall way lights the way to the girls’ room. My two empaths that can give you a clear read on any person in the world and their intention. It is one of the blessings that come with there being differently abled.

Susan stirs. “Rick did you…”

“Zed attempted to kill me.”

I let that statement hang in the air. Not exactly something she was expecting to hear, but not shocking enough to fully awake my dozing wife. Though I guess she has come to the same conclusion that I did, this immortal wants to seek revenge against the antagonist entity, or is there something else? Since the ashram beat down that teaching of Brother Jesus has been bouncing around in my brain the chunks I am looking through to hyper focus on the speck.  What is the speck?

“The speck is John’s ghost.” Susan mumbles before turning back over to sleep.

The speck is John’s ghost.

What are the chunks in my own eyes?

Time to go back to the grave, the fist chunk is my own grief.

Pen slips quietly into my coat pocket as I once again leave the house locking the door behind me. Towards the cemetery to clear the chunks from my own eyes to clearly see. See what?

Grail quest. For some it was the cup of Christ, that which he drank from at the Last Supper, that which Judas and Peter, the yin-yang of the Holy Week happenings shared communion with the Lord. Sought by the supposed source I am resurrected from when I speak my mantra, Arthur PenDragon who searched many years for the Grail. Yet more recently some have supposed that the Grail was the Sacred Feminine, or even the ancient line of Christ himself as carried through his bride in gnostic teachings of Mary Magdalene, who it is believed by legend fled to France post resurrection.

But where does this lead me? Except into a foggy old cemetery at night. Standing before the grave marker of my friend. John MacCurtis. Needing to dive back into the divine flow to truly see where he is resting. To release his soul into resurrection or release? What choice will he make? Pen stirs again as I kneel on the damp ground.

The cross of life, or as some would know it as an Ankh on the ground digging into the ground of the grave. The Latin comes through my connection to Pen.   The chunks have fallen away as the incantation concludes and lightning flashes in my eyes.

Golden lightning.

Time to re-enter Camelot a place I thought long destroyed but that is the revelation for the grail is beyond the veil and the cross of life reveals the face of my friend.

One last time into the breach.

“Bionics on.”

Lightning crashes the ground.

Across the city, a woman with blue flame streaked hair sits upright fully awake on a couch. “Come home to me Rick or by God I will kill you.” A lone tear trickles down her face for fear this may be the one time she won’t be the grail he seeks to come home through.

To Be Continued…

 


Prologue:

Sabbatical

 The words of my editor ring in my ears as I look down at my best friend’s grave. “This is not the time as a journalist to take a sabbatical. With conglomeration, it spells career death.” Not sure if the answer I retorted with about finally writing my new book is true or just wanting to get her off my back.  Truth is I have not been enjoying my role in the media for quite sometime as I have watched friends downsized, and more of our vaulted opinions become centralized. Sure, the crime beat wasn’t as overly run, but the time was coming.

Time. Susan kept telling me it was passing me by. When we oldsters (God I am not even 40 yet and I am an oldster in this game) took a stand, and took down the more black and white capital punishment types a few years back. John was mayor, things were looking bright, when the darkness crept back in, and his life was lost.

The armour’s shine was dimmed a little. Been a while since I have called upon the full power of the Pendragon, but I kept doing what I was going to keep the city safe. My pen crawls out of my pocket, a little pen sized dragon, a reminder of the magic I can wield in my other life, that manifests in my day to day to help.

Susan is wondering how with the rising affordability of life we will make it as a family if I was not working (sole income an all that) …but there’s investments, savings, that will be cashed in as I figure this out. She is still as beautiful as the day we met in elementary school, and when we fell in love in junior high, and when I rescued her from Killer Face VII in high school (hey it was the 80’s villains weren’t creative just copy cats).

The flattened plaque stating John’s name, the dates, the dash where he did so much good, and then some not so much good that would eventually return karmically to cost him his life. “I miss you man. Thought we would have years more adventuring to go.”

A twig snap behind me, a more paranoid man would whip around, transform and put whatever in its place. I simply let my Pen hiss. “Would like some privacy mate.”

“Even from an old friend, Ricky.” John said.

To be continued…


-A Mayoral Interlude-

The Dodge Caravan. Dogs in back—one for each kid, and each adult don’tcha know, his son and daughter dozing while Brad Paisley sings about Me and Jesus having it all figured out. His wife laughing at his side over some silly joke he had made. The darkened highway on the road suddenly appearing out of the darkness of the high way.

                John’s eyes readjust when his wife motions. Coming back from time in the mountains with Rick and Susan, a nice respite from the mayor’s office. Johnny and Kyler had left alone. Zed was a mysterious monastic that had called them together for the BBQ but then wouldn’t say why the reunion of the Great Crime Fighter’s needed to happen over burgers and dogs.

                From the billows of blackness the form moves, a girl, MacCurtis’ eyes refocus again, he knows the form- a girl.

                “Good Night PinBall.”

The night sky is lit blue with flames.

“Fuck!” sweat pours down the mayor’s body, the flannel sheets were to be a comfort at this time, not a trigger. But the dream—night terror proved the trigger.

A reminder the night his family were killed months ago.

He knew the woman, but who was it? Who could light the night sky blue with fire that destroyed his family and left him with new scars? A flame that vanished with the form as quickly as she had appeared.

Vibration from his night stand. A quick swipe and tap to activate speaker mode on the Smart Phone. “Mayor MacCurtis here.”

“Hey boss update, Speare was here.”

“That’s not an update Shades, your father was Captain Obvious, what does that make you Commander Oblivious?” He knows he shouldn’t be snarky, this is a weird time for the city, and something ominous is about to be let loose. Why is the woman haunting his dreams? Rick thought she was a demon from Gerklyn’s dimension, but that did not seem to set well with John’s soul, even after putting his family to rest. There was something all too familiar about her, and the fact that she knew one of his heroic identities.

“Look Mayoral Asshat—Sorry boss, that was uncalled for.”

John’s eyes go to the clock, 2 a.m., he clicks off the television in his bedroom, a Spenser dvd is droning on replay he had fallen asleep watching. “Look Shades, it’s late or early depending on when one’s day starts. So what is Speare up to?”

Speare was a new player, unfamiliar, a supposed private detective who had done some good in the city, how had he gotten caught up in all the Supra dramas? That is what concerned John, these high level games already killed far too many.

“Natan called me, Sax dropped the Prophets and Martyrs on him, he was in the bookshop asking about…”

“Reesa.”

A woman with darkness billowing around her. John’s eyes refocus as he can in the night on the darkened highway. His heightened hearing hear’s the name she whispers—“PinBall.”

                The voice so familiar, from a time when he tried to play Professor Xavier…working with youngsters who were gifted by the Effect.  The blue flame crackles, his wife screams. The name in his mind gets caught in his throat as he attempts to scream for mercy, but the words—“Reesa please God not my family.” Never clear his mouth….

 


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?