THE STORY OF JOHNNY WHOOPER SWAN We go to school trusting our parents. We meet a teacher there who stands up front with a big desk, and a pointer. She or he trains us in an authoritative manner. We attach mentally to a life long need for authority in order to live lives successfully. Right so far? In my case, at the age of 25 I was ready to enter the practice of law where I hoped for success and a happy life finally. Very shortly, very shortly, I became anxious. There was a foreboding. I was made more uncomfortable with each experience. Law work is nothing like what I was told it would be. The system is corrupt. But I still cling to my expectation that career success is necessary to my happiness as a man. Each day my grasp of what the fuck success amounts to after all becomes more clouded, murkier. I hear songs on the airwaves and at concerts which describe my life as the life of a fool. What am I becoming? I want to rip off my business suit to run naked in the street with my hair on fire! But I am too afraid. In strange, weird (weird comes from a word meaning wise), fragmented steps I go about a journey of my own believing myself to be the first man to have failed in such a total way which journey works so as to break up my career, end a marriage, and start an entirely new way of relating with my two children whom I love deeply. Almost magically I meet a woman who is a career counselor who asserts a beautiful message that I am made to be joyful in my work everyday and at all levels. This understanding sets me on a completely new course. It is no longer a world of systems to me but an undivided one of unlimited beauty. It reminds me of a painting. A true masterpiece. I am drawn from within to learn the truth about my identity and nobody else can teach me that. From this point onward I will use thinking capacity for mastering mechanical processes and follow my heart, which includes my whole nature, which includes your whole nature and that of every human being for all the rest. I’ll go by the name Johnny Whooper Swan who does not explain itself to anyone. By my fruits shall I be known. Watch me soar!

Thursday, June 4, 2020

The desert can be a place of desolation. It can seem hopeless. Lifeless. Empty. It is a good place to be when you want to know the truth. It will be shown to those with eyes to see.

It rains. And when it does, the place comes alive with possibility. Nothing becomes everything.  That is the truth. All has been baked down to its essence and then it rains. And then it rains. 

I have heard it said the amazing smell in the desert after a rain is the fragrance of water falling upon parched earth. You have to smell it to believe it. It is the perfume of kindness. 

There is a truth that is always here. It is now. Simple. Yet to give it attention feeds something in you that holds an artesian well of pure goodness. Sir Issac Newton looked for it in secret all his life. The Philosopher’s Stone he sought goes by at least as many names as there are religions of mankind. All the while, all mankind needed was to be kind. As a whooper swan I found that to be so.

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