Have you ever had mysterious things happen on your trek through everyday life, and it seems in some way that it could be a ‘message’, but in the fact of everything, you probably will never know?

I used to trust this place with my thoughts.

Wouldn’t you know it.

When I lie on my back for long periods of time, a pain begins to swell in the middle of my back, just left of my spine. This is probably the result of past injury with my neck, although that has pretty much passed. I’ve always done meditation lying down on my bed, either before I go to sleep, or before I wake up. However, this seems to disrupt my ability to meditate now.

There was once a traveler, in a distant realm of existence, who wore peasant clothing, carried a long walking stick with him, and carried a sack at his back. Yet, unlike most peasants, this traveler was clever,… and had gained much wisdom for his age. Yet, despite his wisdom, he was still young, and still unwise in most ways. … He was a person of vision. And as a person of vision, he desired to stand out from the mass of other peasants in their beliefs. You see,… the society of which he lived was not very spiritual. They did not believe in supernatural beings, and did not indulge their spirit, say for the local religion. As a person who grew up into this religion, and believed its creeds, the traveler had figured that there was much more to the world than what met the eye,… so he ventured away from his home.

His mind stirred of various images and scenarios of what he might encounter on his journey for the unknown. Each seemed little more than a daydream however; a self-invoked vision that would have seemed unlikely in reality. In his first trek, he traveled the deep, deep marshes of his homelands. Each day of traveling made him weary. As a child, he would feel a deep sinking of his soul as sorrowful emotions filled his heart, confused and frightened. He was locked in an unknowing that toyed with his heart, and a few times, the marshes were so dark and thick, his sanity would slip away from him, and he would sink into an emotional breakdown. His exposition to this darkness caused him to lose track of his journey. However, as he traveled, another traveler he had met and known on his journey arrived to him. The other traveler said to the first traveler that he knew how much potential he had in his wisdom. He was also wise. … On his own journey, be found a hidden path in the marsh which lead out into an open field, away from the darkness of the marshland, where the sun was shining bright, and that he remembered the first traveler, and decided to find him to tell him in excitement about the field. The first traveler followed the second out of the marsh, and to his relief, he was touched with the rays of the sun, and a spiritual light engulfed them.

Here, out in the meadow, they found scrolls sitting next to a large tree. One of them spoke of things that neither of them could understand, but knew that someday, they could interpret it. One showed a map, leading in the direction of a great mountain, far, far away, which at first seemed like it would be unreachable in their lifetime. One showed a picture of a human body, with seven symbols lined across the spine. The point which seemed to interest the travelers the most was the bluish symbol located on the forehead of the picture, in the shape of a great eye. It was for them so compelling, because of how long they had lingered in the darkness of the marsh, and their longing to see things they could not see. There were plenty of other scrolls around the tree that seemed both ancient and recent. Some spanned from civilizations that have long disappeared into oblivion, that are only held in myth. Others seemed as if they were written just the day before by a wandering sage. Quickly, the two travelers decided to pack these scrolls into the sacks at their backs, and they parted ways, knowing that although they should meet again on their journeys, their journeys were theirs, and theirs alone.

As the original traveler continued through the meadow, and into a peaceful forest, with the sun shining through the canopy, the traveler began reading some of his scrolls, fascinated with this new world of both travel and thought that he encountered. In a way, he felt no rush toward his unknown destination; the great mountain,… since he was now comfortable dwelling in the light of the sun, and knowing that his world was much more vibrant than it was in the marsh, and even in his homelands. Yet, his journey continued toward the destination.

Throughout the whole of his journey,… even through the marshes,… he would come across various plants. One specific plant he discovered he began to harvest and eat. This plant would cause his perception to alter, and would invoke a psychedelic euphoria. Although this plant never harmed him, or did him wrong, it would cause him to walk in a direction which seemed adverse to his destination. He never minded it in the swamp, since there was no destination,… but in the discovery of this great mountain, he became a bit more self-aware of what the plant did. It was not an evil plant. It was merely an aid for him to view the world in ways unlike if he had not taken the plant. In the forest, the plant was more common it seemed at first. He discovered that the only negative to this plant was that it would cause him to wander from the path if too much was consumed. He began to moderate his use of this plant, in the interest of staying approximate to the path he was traveling. He never gave up the plant, but he knew that someday, he might.

He continued to read the scrolls, and found himself buried in one scroll in specific. This scroll spoke about spirits, whose purpose was to accompany travelers on their journey. Some were seen as friendly familiars. Others saw them as spirits of the dead. Others thought they were holy beings,… guides of the spiritual. The traveler became excited about the writings in this scroll, as they seemed to resemble a strange scroll he had discovered in the marshlands. He attempted to follow the scrolls instructions on how to discover or summon these spirits. However, he seemed to have been distracted at all attempts to summon them. When days would die down, and he would get ready to set up camp, he would attempt to summon them. He would always fail however. … Although wise he was, on his trek, he knew that his mind liked to wander, create false images, and blow perception out of proportion if left uncontrolled. Sometimes, the plant would be at fault, and so he would have to refrain from the plant the next day. Yet even on the days when the plant was nowhere to be seen or heard from, he could not focus on his goal. As he read further into the scroll, it spoke of technicals and certain practices. Pieces of advice that would usually help others, but did not help him. The travelers rambling mind could not hone the power of this new discovery. Sadly, he put the scroll away, and hoped he could establish contact sometime soon on his journey.

…

The story of the traveler is widely incomplete, but a constant does remain in the story. The journey travelers usually take have always been known to be lonely ones. Yet, on the journey, perhaps the greatest thing they cherish aside from the journey itself are those they meet on the journey. Those of various ability and wisdom achieve from their own individual paths toward the great mountain. Travelers are bound to cross the paths of other travelers, and each traveler is different in nature, appearance, belief, gender, race, origin, lineage, zodiac, power, understanding, wisdom, an all things that a human being, or a being of sentience is known for. Many times,… many unfortunate times,… travelers cross each other, and never recognize their similar journey, and thusly, depart ways. Sometimes, a traveler will discover someone who is only beginning their travel, and will assist them with wisdom, magic, or knowledge. Sometimes, a traveler will encounter a dilemma which can only be solved with the co-operation of another traveler. Some travelers try to stay adverse to the belief that journeys are lonesome, and travel together anyhow. Some are bound by both unfortunate circumstance, and fortune. … Yet, at any point in time, the lonesome traveler only desires to discover an array of interesting travelers. Individuals, Covens. Communities. Congregations. Aggregates. …

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If you have read this far into the story,… here is what I want you to do.

… Share your story of travel and intrigue on your spiritual journey. Write a story/post in your own blog in the same format: a peasant traveler that ventures on a journey away from their home.
Share your story, and share experiences with your fellow travelers. Adventure. Suspense. Depression. Good and evil. Struggle. Self-discovery. Victory. … Just write a story!

Establish unique relationships with people you may have met before, or have never met before.

When you are done, copy everything below the line in this post, and paste it at the end of your post. Hopefully it catches on.
If not, just remember that you are all travelers on a journey. Please remember to treat your fellow travelers with respect as you venture onward.

I’m drained, and slightly worn.

…

Let me tell you,… helping to set up a music festival is some hard work. Gratifying, but hard.

… and I haven’t the energy to go through all that happened at this festival, other than to say that it was a valiant success, besides a few people being less than supportive.

I currently feel myself dwelling within this purgatory of unknowing.
I lost my job last week, but that one was my fault.
I saw some faults in close friends that I didn’t want to see.
I’ve been pushing and preaching positivity, and yet everyones wreck-less pessimism is intoxicating the air.

Things seem somewhat bleak during a time that should be as bright as the sun. A new summer for the venture of music.
… and despite some bigger steps, it seemed as if poison has been flowing through the minds of everyone I work with. Some more than others.

Miscommunications. Paranoia. Pride. Judgementalism. Drama. Lost ambitions. Raging emotions.

Its like the musical landscape is changing, and larger cracks have formed in the ground. The likeliness that things will fall into the earth is increasing.
And no form of real-talk or straight-forwardness is solving anything.

I’m not sure how long this is going to last, but I am positive that many bridges will be warped and perhaps even burned.
And for those out to make such things happen out of self-loathing or envy, the price will weigh even heavier.

I just hope the long-term disruption caused by this momentary curse bypasses most of us.
I just hope everyone can wake up.

Perhaps let their own weary eyes rest, and awaken to clairity.

…

Unlock new turns and phrases
With words painted on a pastel of light
Meeting of the minds, eye to eye
Imbuing cortex stimuli, future sight

We gather in front of the beacons of data
Hyper-text forged subjective throught
Gazing upon the realm of each patron
A clone of id, ego, and dreams sought

Wonder how I can reach these patrons
In ways only the image can stir
Creative wielding each shape and pixel
Which keys of lettering can only concur

I find in me an unspoken desire
Express the mess that one can only digress
Seek kinship, beholding supernatural trials
To enhance the taste of life’s very crest

…

I have no explanation for this poem … It just came out of me.
… and it had to go somewhere.

If you want to hear something a bit surprising,… my grandmother just passed away this morning. I found it a strange thing that I was not at all overcome with sadness. I felt completely clear in conscious, and I knew that this was the time to be a different person from those weeping, especially my mother, who had just lost HER mother.
If you know my history, death is not a stranger to me. I find that if you are not the one weeping for the loss of someone else, than it is your responsibility to be the ironman. To hold down the household for others, and be the shoulder to cry on.

I could feel my mothers pain, and her sadness, but I felt it presence, not its overwhelming power. Thusly, I could tell prior to my grandmothers death that the air was thickening. That I would play a valuable role in nurturing the mourning, and empowering them afterward.

Will I eventually mourn? Maybe.
Maybe the funeral, I will shed a tear.

I remember when my grandfather passed away a couple years ago. It was like today. A sunday, during the spring. … Except I didn’t actually cry until they lowered the casket, and the company at arms had done the 21 gun salute, and began playing ‘Taps’. (my grandfather was a WWII veteran. One of the first on shore of Normandy in fact. I never thanked him for his service to the country, but I’m not one to regret the small things, since he is a conscious being enjoying a non-physical state as of right now, and through some astral grapevine, he probably is aware already.)

…

The way I view death,… it is only the end of something little, to the beginning of something much more. In a comical sense, I could just imagine the grim reaper passing by after doing his deed, and I would be leaning against the wall, surveying others brewing sadness, while glancing over to the reaper for a nod. …

“Hello Death. … Out on the daily routine again?”

He, of course, wouldn’t say anything. He would merely nod, … as the silent individual he was. Perhaps even Death needs positive notice every once in a while by people who are not opposed to his job. … Its only a force of nature. If this force of nature actually HAD a conscious form like the ‘mainstream’ image of ‘him’,… I would probably respect him very much so. He would be quite the dark, yet insightful person. … and I’m sure that my own passing won’t be a horrible miscreant of nature if I continue to respect him thusly so. But people can be disappointed.

…

I’ve been on both sides of death; the deepest of mourning and anguish, and the most un-emotional, logical, and understanding. Death gives purpose, and its continued visit to my world has helped form me into a person who truly respects the power of being the ‘strong one’. The one who is not overcome by those emotions, and is available,… like a soldier, standing at arms,… as a person to assist the mourning process, and uplift them from pain. My respect for death has fostered respect for myself.

… Enjoy your life.
Quit worrying about financial troubles. Quit worrying about friendship troubles. Quit worrying about job/responsibility troubles.
These worries were all programmed into you from birth. They are only thoughts; only distractions that stand between you, and happiness.

Don’t weigh your mind down.

Just be happy.

…

You won’t regret it! =)