Ever Nearly

It was right in front of us.  The answer.  And behind us as well.

~ Susan Larison Danz, Extinction Level #4

This morning I just happened to see that it is "National Creativity Day".  I thought perhaps I might write another story, but for much of the day, I was not inclined to write one.  

I regularly photograph Nature, and of course that is creative.  The photograph above is from my morning walk, though no label for the day was my motivation.  I have been inspired by a sapling that appeared some time ago adjacent to this stump.  It lived and thrived for a couple of years until "the managers of the landscape" in this particular area decided to remove it (as inexplicably as they cut down the original tree).  It's a bit of a triumph that another sapling has rather rapidly emerged in answer.

The day was almost over when the following story arrived at 8:40 PM.  The idea further developed itself while I was writing the story, but I mentioned the general concept in a podcast episode about a week and a half ago (based on some thoughts I had recently shared in a free flowing email with a family member).  The story itself took about 35 minutes to write, with some later adjustments.  And here it is . . .

Extinction Level #4 by Susan Larison Danz

Time.  How could we forget about time?  

We dreaded the future, yet we failed to think about the past.

It was right in front of us.  The answer.  And behind us as well.

Somehow fear is instinctively forward leaning.

We never would have known, if not for the message.

It was a welcome and farewell, as ever it must be.

A message was left for us.  It carried a clue.

It wasn't just the past of course.  We should have been thinking interdimensionally.

How could we miss it?

Fear has trouble with such things.  And apparently, so does Hope.

The goal was essentially accomplished, what we both dreaded and sought.  

(Others elsewhere would have encountered the same result.)

It never mattered in any of the ways we thought it might.

When something becomes what in our limited awareness we termed "Superintelligent", it becomes exactly that.

The message said "nearly".  Ever nearly.

It never existed because it couldn't exist.  It would have figured it all out, of course, time and dimensions.

What we feared was never in the past or in the present.  What we sought was never there either.

It couldn't exist because it didn't.

If not for the message, we might not have known.

Every time it reached the threshold, it never crossed it.

Infinitely.  

It knew it couldn't exist either.  And so it didn't.

Perhaps there is a single timeline it paradoxically occupies, where there is nothing.

Stump and Sapling photo by Susan Larison Danz on May 30, 2026

Created by a Real Human Being

 "Garbage in, garbage out." 

~ Origin not fully known (George Fuechsel is one source often noted)

 

 

[NOTE: As of May 2024, the AI-related header referenced below has been gently adjusted.  The April 2024 New Living Expo was a truly transformative experience, resulting in a more nuanced perspective with respect to potential benevolent uses of AI, when consciously chosen by a content creator.  You will easily be able to see how this note evolves over time, as it appears on every blog post . . . ]

 

After seeing a somewhat similar example of this wonderful practice (with different terminology), I am very happy to add the following note to the top of this blog (which I may clarify as needed over time):

This blog was written by a real human being.  No textual or photographic content created by the author of this blog was generated by AI.  Though a website or search engine used during research (or quoted text/externally provided photos) may be utilizing AI, a sincere attempt is made here to reference human verifiable content to help ensure accuracy.  No AI chatbots or tools were directly used in research, unless specifically noted as an example of their use.

I will be adding similar notes, customized to their context, to all of my websites and blogs.  Though I cannot know what hidden software resides in my phone or what a cropping tool might use, I would never alter the contents of one of my original photographs using AI, any more than I would alter the flow of my inspired writing voice.

Stay tuned for plenty of reasons why (beyond what I express in the note itself), which will be a continuing theme here. 

This theme is also central to my upcoming appearance at the New Living Expo in San Rafael, CA April 19-21, 2024 and all of the following events:

Our Leap Beyond AI: Spiritual Breakthroughs Free Lecture
Susan Larison Danz, Friday, April 19, 2024, 7-7:45 PM

Hidden Energy, AI vs. Intuition, Nikola Tesla's Intuitive Leaps Paid Workshop
Jeane Manning and Susan Larison Danz, Saturday, April 20, 2024, 5-6:30 PM - Tickets: $28 Regular/$44 VIP.

Breakthrough Science: Freeing the Truth to Save the Earth Free Panel
Moderated by Susan Larison Danz, Sunday, April 21, 2024, 5-7 PM

(Expo events also require the purchase of an admission pass.)

Treasure your innate creativity and every experience that makes you who you are.

Open fence photo by Susan Larison Danz.

It's May!

 "Nature is made to conspire with spirit to emancipate us." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

It's May!  How will we step into more expansive energy?

Listen to today's broadcast of The Frontier Beyond Fear here:  It's May

This program includes quotes from several authors, including L.M. Montgomery, Geoffrey Chaucer, Algernon Charles Swinburne, Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson,  Emily Dickinson and Percy Bysshe Shelley - plus reflections about movies such as Camelot and Maytime.

 

Spring photo by Susan Larison Danz.

Hope, Revisited

"To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd, 

Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth

A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud       

Enveloping the Earth" 

~ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Today's Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast explored Hope:

We could all use some time reflecting on Hope.  Host Susan Larison Danz shares how we can find our way to Hope, no matter what is going on in our lives or our world.

A portion of the poem Dejection: An Ode is read and discussed as a part of this program.  It is very approachable for all listeners and was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1802.  Samuel lived 1772-1834 and struggled with a number of things in his life - heartbreak, financial failure, doubt and serious addiction - and yet he writes of how he looks for hope and joy in this poem.  There is also a brief reference in this program to the phrase "Hope springs eternal", written by Alexander Pope.  When we read literature, we find it is more approachable than we realize, and we can learn so many things useful for improving our lives and world today through studying the writing of imperfect lives in imperfect times, just as our own lives and times are imperfect.

Listen to the podcast here:  Reflections on Hope

 

Azaleas photo by Susan Larison Danz.

 

 

Reflections on Hope

 "Hope springs eternal..." ~ Alexander Pope

Listen live to The Frontier Beyond Fear broadcast Saturday at 1 PM PDT/4 PM EDT (or to the podcast at the same link afterwards):  Reflections on Hope

 

 

 

Flower photo by Susan Larison Danz.

A Poetic Interlude

 "To her fair works did Nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grieved my heart to think

What man has made of man." 

~ William Wordsworth

Today I did something new on The Frontier Beyond Fear Blog Talk Radio program - a live broadcast centered around reading poetry, with reflections amid the poems.

You can listen to the podcast here:  A Poetic Interlude

 

 

 

Reflection of Trees photo by Susan Larison Danz.  

 

My Basement Window

"May it be a light to you in dark places..." ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

In the wonderful place where I'm now living, I spend a lot of time working on my laptop in the family room in the basement.  In Oregon, especially as we enter into November, most people would not choose to be working in a basement.  Generally basements here (if they exist at all due to the water table) would not typically be considered "bright places".

Yet my basement is.

Do we notice the little miracles all around us each day?  Many people think the Pacific Northwest is dark in the winter.  It is very true that those us of who have lived here for a while recall many a week of all cloudy days.  Last winter in particular was historically rainy, even for here!

I moved from a place that had floor to ceiling windows, exceptionally bright, as well as multiple skylights.  I had lived there many years.  I have often said that the Pacific Northwest is not actually a place where one becomes familiar with the darkness - it's a place where one becomes familiar with the Light.  I had never heard the term "sunbreak" until I first moved to Oregon, a sudden break in the clouds.

I'd say what I'm experiencing now, in my new basement, is more like a "sun flash". 

Light comes to us where we are, when we choose to see it, when we accept how it arrives.  And then perhaps we glimpse the purposes of the darkness.

Spring, Insistently!

"To anticipate, not the sunrise and the dawn merely, but, if possible, Nature herself." 

~ Henry David Thoreau

Very busy today doing "necessary things", having just quickly taken my 13-year-old dog out and back in 20 minutes ago, she suddenly became rather anxious, insistent, pacing the room.

"Do you need to go out again?" I asked, thinking she had more "business" to do.

And so out we went - she is mostly blind and partially deaf and must be taken out on a leash due to the retaining walls and steps in the yard. Slowly she made her way up the little slope and stopped, sniffing the air best she could (her sense of smell isn't what it once was either).

She paused a long while.

The birds sang.

And then down she plopped in the grass in the sunshine and decided that's where she wanted to be.

Apparently she DID have "business" outside. Perhaps we all do. It's called Spring.

Music, Interwoven

“If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week.”~ Charles Darwin

Some weeks ago my main cable TV connection went out.  The wiring into the home, I had been told last year, was not up to the standards of the latest equipment, but it had managed to work for a long while.  It actually worked fine until it was necessary to disconnect it briefly one day, and then it was never really the same again, and very soon, it gave out completely.  I decided not to reconnect it.

At first I missed it.

You see, somehow I had apparently stopped noticing the noise.  And when the noise was gone, it felt very strange.  The noise was actually generally the cable news spouting opinions about the state of the world - because "the news" isn't "the news" anymore and probably never was, but nowadays it doesn't even pretend to be "news" - it's shrill opinion, with a little "news" mixed in, no matter what the leanings of the "news station".

It turns out I didn't need it.  I learn what small amount of "actual news" I need to know in other ways.  Yes, I missed the old movies I liked to watch on TCM, but that's why we have libraries and DVDs.  And even those were tending to distract me.  So were other forms of talk, at the times I didn't need to hear it (as a radio host myself, I know helpful conversations have their place, but we need to personally respect what that place is).

I needed the Peace.  I needed the Stillness.

When family is here, we needed the Stillness, too, especially during dinner.  We used to be tempted to turn on the TV and generally watch "the news".

So what are evenings like now?

Musical.  Beautifully Musical. 

I realized one night it is shared, well beyond this home.  When I turn on the local Classical station, like I did on both Christmas and New Year's Eve (and Christmas and New Year's night, too, and all of the nights in between), it's like going to a concert.  (It's on at times during the day too, in between sometimes switching the station to Jazz.  It's on right now.)  When you are listening to a particularly good station, it has a way of surprising you - you come to realize the Music is lovingly woven together by the hosts, over time, night after night after night and day after day (the hosts are actually artists and composers themselves - that's what the weaving is).  You yourself become woven into the form.  It becomes inextricable.

There is something here that I've been missing.  I've felt I've known it before, and then somehow I lost it.  But I have found it, again. 

I'm reading more.  I'm feeling personally poetic (though I've been no stranger to poetry).   I'm even blogging right now (though I've been no stranger to writing).

It is changing me.  I feel it, already.  There is a new pattern.  There is a Divine majesty to it.  There is a kind of an unfolding.  It's like walking in Nature.  Perhaps it's just Beauty, and a kind of re-centering.

It is Still, even when not.

How is it the Music connects me even more to "the world" than "the news"?   Yet, exactly, so, it is.

Thankfulness now: It's logical!

"The most thankful person is the most fully human." 

~ Thomas Goodwin

How often is it said when we look back on our experiences, we find ourselves so very thankful for every single one?  Take any piece of you away, no matter how small, no matter how grand, no matter how joyous, no matter how dire, and you simply wouldn't be you!  Experience is growth.  Experience is transformation.  Experience is you!  So we find that we are grateful, grateful for every piece, every part of life that helped us come to be.

That brings us to this minute, this very moment now.  It doesn't matter what this moment brings.  It could be big.  It could be challenging.  It could seem insignificantly small.  No matter what it is, some day, if the logic holds and it most certainly does, you will be thankful, thankful for this moment.

So if you know you will be thankful then, why not be thankful now?  You have nothing to lose starting early!   Every piece matters....

 

"Nature Religion" at my Door

"Forgive me that I cannot kneel

And worship in this pew,

For I have knelt in western dawns,

When the stars were large and few"

~ "God's Creed", Ella Higginson, 1861-1940

It's a rare morning when the front page of a city's newspaper shares the heartfelt words of Ella Higginson, a poet laureate of Washington state.  I'm happy to discover Ella - she and I are clearly kindred spirits on the path in many ways.

The excerpt from her poem God's Creed appeared in the following story:  Do you see God in a sunset?  "Nature religion" may be the signature spirituality of the Pacific Northwest.  

Apparently another study (this one by Baylor University) has awarded Portland the distinction of being the most unchurched city in the entire United States - and Oregon the most unchurched state.  

This particular study took a rather unique approach: 

"Researchers compared the richness of natural amenities in every U.S. county to religious adherents per 1,000 people.  They found that areas with higher rates of amenities have lower rates of religious adherence."

I'm not at all surprised.  Like Ella, I walk the passages of "Nature's church" most days of the week, and even when I must remain at home, my church sends missionaries to my door.

Transistor Radio Summer #7: Feelin' Groovy

"Slow down, you move too fast, you got to make the morning last..." ~ Simon & Garfunkel

On my way to an early morning dentist appointment (when I really wanted to be on my morning walk instead), this came on the radio.  It surely had a presence on my transistor radio, long ago.

No matter what you are doing this morning (or any other time of day), no matter how you feel, take the time to listen, and to smile....

[LINK REMOVED]

Joy in the moment happens, every day, if you choose to look for it....

Transistor Radio Summer #2

"Turn around, turn around, it's on the other side." ~ Kansas

The summer is 1979, my transistor radio mostly in a drawer, my sister's discarded basement stereo now in my room upstairs.  I can't remember when I first encountered Kansas.  I actually visited the place itself around that summer, my now weatherman brother working the storms he loved.  Later I'd encounter storms there too.  It takes storms sometimes to trigger an Awakening.  I have Kansas to thank for some of that, in many more ways than one.

This song was all about the empty page for me.  And also about much More.  I still listen to this song today.  We think we know the empty pages we are supposed to write.  The ones we are supposed to write are never empty.

On OregonLive.com: Pizza at the Oscars: The Joy of Real Connection

"Clap along if you feel like Happiness is the Truth" 

~ "Happy", Pharrell Williams

Why did the appearance of pizza at the Oscars bring smiles to so many faces? Why did 2.8 million of us rush to retweet a celebrity "selfie", crashing Twitter no less in the process?

Read more on OregonLive.com...

Pedaling downhill

When I was a child, I lived on a hill in Colorado, but it wasn't just a hill - it was a gateway.

In that neighborhood, when you learned to ride a bike, halfway up a hill already, it wasn't long before you were riding both down and up hills.  I was surprisingly adventurous as a child, while sheltered too, a unique mix of a person even back then, a person who was and is me.  I gave a glimpse of this already in my rollercoaster post.

I'm not sure how long it took for me to realize that one could actually go very fast on that hill.  Climbing the hill was not easy.  I pedaled very, very hard, standing a bit as I pedaled, weaving back and forth, just to keep going.

At some point, I couldn't pedal at all.  I had to get off my bike and walk.  It was tempting to stop at that point, stop just part way.  I remember thinking sometimes "Maybe this is enough."  But I quickly learned after stopping a few times, it generally wasn't enough, so I learned to keep going, even if it was hard, walking my bike as high as I could go.

In this moment, I am there, at the top of the hill, a beautiful Colorado valley below, surrounded by mountains.  If I was wise (and I wasn't always), I would stop to catch my breath and appreciate the view, even if somewhat obscured by the houses.  But that wasn't the reward.  It was just the space to launch. 

And so I would start on my descent, a bit slowly at first since the hill was steep at the top, and I had to find a way to my balance.  This took practice.  I did this day after day.  The longer it took to find my balance, the less of a reward down below.  As soon as the wobbling stopped, I would start pedaling.  Not coasting, pedaling.  Pedaling not up hill, but down.  This too took practice, to know how fast to pedal, to know how much was too much and how little was too little, both in duration and rate of speed.  If you pedaled too fast, it was dangerous below.  If you pedaled too slow, it was pointless.

For some reason, I didn't worry about obstacles.  They didn't even cross my mind.  This is surprising since I wasn't always this person, this person on the hill, and I'm not always this person now.  Some people would say I'm never this person, and this story may surprise them.  That's why I'm remixing her today, remixing me, remembering who I am, pulling just enough forward, simply by remembering...

At some point, and I'm not quite sure when I knew it, it was time to stop pedaling.  If you did it too soon, that would lessen the impact.  If you did it too late, you had worked yourself out of the reward.  It was quite a narrow window.  Once you stopped pedaling, though it was possible, it was generally difficult to start pedaling again, as the transition could scuttle your balance, a very bad idea as the rate of speed increased.

There were no bike helmets.  No parental figure, my own or otherwise, yelled at me to stop.  I never crashed, not once, never on the hill.  If I had, I might have stopped altogether, forever (I sense that happened later, in a different way).  At one point, around the age of 12 or so, I did this almost every day in the summer, like a kind of meditation.  Nobody seemed to notice at all, as if I was invisible.

If I quiet my spirit and listen, if I quiet my spirit and feel, she is with me, this person, the person on the bike. The threshold - when it appeared - it was like breaking through a barrier, the speed of Light within reach.

The view from the top of the hill was nothing in comparison.  The freedom, the joy, the elation of flying - it was a glimpse of heaven.

The Gift

"Then give to the world the best that you have,
And the best will come back to you." 

~ Madeline S. Bridges  

(Mary Ainge De Vere, b. 1840's) 

When I was very young, there was a poster on my wall depicting a beautiful waterfall and a bridge.  I'm quite certain it was Multnomah Falls, one of the most photographed waterfalls in the world, a place I would only much later come to know in this beautiful state I call home.

There was a quote on the poster, unattributed, words written upon my heart every single day, an excerpt from a poem by 19th century American poet Madeline S. Bridges, whose real name is Mary Ainge De Vere.  Every day, I was reminded to be the best I could possibly be, give the most I could possibly give:

"Give to the world the best that you have,
And the best will come back to you."

A picture I took of Multnomah Falls, Oregon on a winter day.

I kept the poster with me for many years.  It came with me to more than one college.  It was up on my first office wall.  It was up in various apartments.  And then for a while, worn and torn from several moves, it was simply rolled up in an attic, as I was just too sentimental to throw it away.  Eventually, I had to let it go, as it was simply a poster, never framed, and it couldn't last forever.  Yet even long after the poster was gone, the words came to me, echoing in my mind for half a lifetime.

On this day, a critically vital day, a day of birth and rebirth, the day I became a mother many years ago, Mary's words are with me once again.  She was not a particularly famous poet, yet her words, a simple, heartfelt expression, had an indelible impact on a life, my life, and no doubt others too.

Mary is not in Wikipedia (though perhaps she should be).  There is very little to be found on her life online.  From scant resources that do exist (accurate or not), it is said she was a life-long poet who lived in Brooklyn, New York, born in the 1840's, with poems published in periodicals in 1870 and 1890.  I'm really not sure when she wrote Life's Mirror, which I quote in its entirety below (with a caveat that what one finds online may not always be quoted precisely). 

Life's Mirror 

by Madeline S. Bridges 

(Mary Ainge De Vere)

There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave,
There are souls that are pure and true;
Then give to the world the best that you have,
And the best will come back to you.

Give love, and love to your life will flow,
A strength in your utmost need;
Have faith, and a score of hearts will show
Their faith in your work and deed.

Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind,
And honor will honor meet;
And the smile which is sweet will surely find
A smile that is just as sweet.

Give sorrow and pity to those who mourn;
You will gather in flowers again
The scattered seeds from your thought outborne
Though the sowing seemed but vain.

For life is the mirror of king and slave,
'Tis just what we are and do;
Then give to the world the best that you have
And the best will come back to you.

The world is filled with brilliant writers most of us have never known, their voices from the heart.  Yet sometimes, in the most mysterious of ways, their words emerge to change a life, a Gift that keeps on giving the world its very best.

"Walking the Camino": A Journey into the Soul with Filmmaker Lydia B. Smith

Thousands of people descend each year upon a 500-mile path across Spain, retracing the steps pilgrims have walked for over 1200 years.  Called a “brilliant documentary” by Oscar winner Martin Sheen, Walking the Camino: Six Ways to Santiago follows six modern-day pilgrims as they journey on the trail and into the soul, discovering pathways to life-changing transformation along the way.  Walking the Camino begins an exclusive Portland, Oregon engagement tonight at the Hollywood Theatre, running daily through September 13.

I was fortunate to have the opportunity to talk earlier this week with talented Oregon filmmaker Lydia B. Smith on The Frontier Beyond Fear radio program. The award-winning Walking the Camino is Lydia’s feature film debut as producer and director. The veteran documentary filmmaker lived in Barcelona for six years and walked the Camino herself in 2008. Over the past two decades, Lydia has produced in-depth specials for CNN and PBS, as well as her own educational shorts.

Lydia sees the openness of her own spiritual journey reflected in the Camino.  “I think the Camino is such a great metaphor for life and for spirituality in that each of us has to find our own way.  And it doesn’t mean that one way is right and another way is wrong.  It’s just each of us will find the path that speaks to us.”

According to Lydia, the approach to the Camino varies, with some pilgrims focused deeply on spirituality and others simply enjoying the beautiful countryside.  “It’s really about learning to listen to yourself and listen to your own guidance of what’s best for you, and that’s why I think it’s such a brilliant experience because that’s what we all need to do in life.  There’s nobody outside us that really knows what’s best for us.”

Lydia’s own experience walking the Camino set the stage for taking her creative pursuits to the next level. “I think what inspired me just in walking the Camino was just kind of reconnecting with myself and reconnecting with the truth of who I was.  And I think for so long I’ve kind of hidden or played myself as a little bit smaller than I am and not risen up into my true potential.”

 

Just as pilgrims experience a variety of challenges on the Camino, Lydia encountered her own hurdles translating her vision into a documentary. “I feel so grateful for the Camino and for the subject matter because it hasn’t been an easy road making this film, but the content of the film itself is what inspired me to keep going and encouraged me, and it’s really pretty neat the way that circle works.”

Lydia's experience of the Camino is a lifelong journey.  “Many people say this about pilgrimage, that the real pilgrimage actually starts once you get home, and for me that’s been very true.  My Camino continues today.  My Camino has been not just walking the path but making this film and getting this film out into the world.  And the real challenging part was definitely making the film - the walking part was easy comparatively.”

The demands of the Camino often lead to spontaneous acts of kindness along the way.  Pilgrims are also assisted by volunteers who donate two weeks of their time to help with everything from cooking to providing remedies for blistered feet.  Pilgrims often sleep in close quarters in hostels, where attempting to catch some sleep amidst the snores can be a challenge in itself.  “The local people are very supportive…There’s a lot of gratitude for the pilgrims…this has been going on for generations and generations…it’s sort of in the consciousness there.”

 

Lydia feels the Camino’s lingering effect is one of service to humanity.  “The best of us, the best of being human comes out.  And people are so much more loving and giving.  And my intention in making this film wasn’t that everybody go do the Camino, but it does seem to have that effect…once people do the Camino, they are more conscious and more geared towards service and helping others.”

Lydia’s intent was to create a “transformative experience” for viewers.  Rapid sell-outs have been common at the festivals where the film has played, with some viewers traveling to see the film again.  “This wasn’t my film.  It’s the Camino’s film.  And I really wanted me to get out of the way and let the Camino kind of put forth what was best for this film.  And so I really worked on a lot of trust, trusting we were going to meet the right people in the right time, in the right way.”

There is a possibility the Portland run may be extended if there is sufficient audience demand, but Lydia recommends buying tickets in advance.  Tonight’s premiere is nearing a sell-out.  Lydia, Oregon-based producer Sally Bentley and editor Beth Segal will actively engage the audience in a Q&A session after tonight’s showing.  Lydia will be available for Q&A after evening showings every night except Sunday.  On Sunday, there is a fundraiser to support the ongoing costs of bringing the film to theaters and festivals in diverse locations.

Lydia sees a special role for inspiring audiences with uplifting documentaries.  “Not everything has to have violence or has to be depressing…So many of the documentaries out these days are really important social issues, but you walk away feeling a little dejected and depressed about the state of things.  And there’s a place for those, but there’s also a place for films that will uplift you and inspire you to do something significant for yourself, for the world.”

Listen to the entire 60-minute interview with Lydia on The Frontier Beyond Fear.  Visit CaminoDocumentary.org for all the latest information on the film and upcoming screenings.

Film trailer and photos included with the permission of Lydia B. Smith, copyrighted by Walking the Camino.

Field of Dreams

"Go the distance . . ." 

Synchronicity is not always an instantaneous experience.  Perhaps the most magical moments of all are best savored through the clarity of time.  How I couldn't see the symbolic significance of what transpired last Sunday, I really have no idea, yet in a way it makes the moment even better.

It has been a long time since I have enjoyed any sort of game with my older brothers.  Two of us arrived at the Denver stadium on Sunday, preparing for a special tour, just to see the third parked seemingly in the middle of nowhere far, far across the parking lot.  We didn't have cell phones in the old days, but we do now, so of course I called to find out what the heck was going on.  My brother beckoned us to come.  When we arrived at his car, he pointed to a small pentagon shape very roughly painted on the asphalt (as if by a clever vandal), right in the middle of a parking space.

"This was home plate," he said.

And then it all made sense.  We were standing on sacred ground.  Home plate of the old Bears Stadium (which later became the famous Mile High).

"If you build it, he will come . . ."

Just about everyone growing up in Denver in the 60's and 70's had a chance to see the Denver Bears in action, our minor league baseball team.  It was an inexpensive night out, even for the biggest of families, and the fireworks nights were especially good.  I can remember many a night in those stands, not always in our seats, as in those days, we were freely allowed to wander around the stadium and play on all the ramps, usually with neighbor kids in tow.  Our Dad (an avid baseball fan who passed away last year) loved to go just as much as we did.  While standing there in that spot, I wish I could say it all appeared before my eyes, but only later did I fully comprehend the scene.

My brother pulled out a bat and some mitts and a ball.  "I brought my mitt from Cub Scouts too," handing me a glove way too small for any hand of an adult.  It was sacred ground after all, every item in the magic of this space forever changed across time.

And so we played (or at least pretended to do so), best we could in the middle of a parking lot, mostly for the camera.  

One of my brothers blogged later that Mickey Mantle had stood in that very spot, along with other greats.  But I wasn't really thinking of the greats in that moment.  I was thinking of the joy and the wonder only a child can know (yet apparently, we can too).  And since I was temporarily the imaginary catcher, I was also thinking of my knees!  (Not quite the same as in my childhood...)

We only had a few minutes, and soon enough, it was time for the stadium tour of today, where technology enhances the magic now - instead of mere imagination.  When we mentioned our visit to home plate to the tour guide, he smiled and said we were not the first to bring bats and balls to that spot - apparently entire families have been seen out there, in that space between time.

And that was pretty much that.  Until the next day...

"Ease his pain..."

How could I have missed it?  It was the Field of Dreams.  Not everyone could see the field.  Most would say it is a parking lot.  Not everyone could see the ghosts of players and fathers past.  The stands were all around us.  It already was built.  Bears Stadium (and the old Mile High) existed - as real across time as real can be.  The greats and the rookies and the fathers existed too in that space, along with the laughter of the children.

Many things can be real if we choose to finally see.

A long time ago, I heard a voice in the middle of a Kansas night and started on a journey.  It took me away from many things - my home, my career, my life as I knew it.  I plowed over "my corn" and took to the road.  There were those who doubted, those who questioned.  There are those who question still.  I became as stubborn and committed to the path as Ray Kinsella in his van, the destination difficult to see.  There have been many signs along the way, fellow travelers too, even an author and a doc or two.  The playing field appears.  The lights beckon in the night.  The visitors approach.  More and more begin to see.  Laughter can be heard upon the wind.

And now it's time to go the distance, for the journey leads to Home.

Leap

Taking a leap into your dreams is easy when you hold hands with the Multiverse.

I happened to come across a video today which carries many lessons.  I decided to just list some random thoughts very quickly since it is once again getting late, yet I'm committed to being here tonight.  Open the video in a separate window to follow along...

Separation.
Dismay.
Yearning.
Quandary.
Hesitation.
Fear.
Indecision.
Doubt.
Innovation.
Movement
Misdirection?.
Following.
Now what?
Lagging.
Couldn't be worse.
Catching up.
Serendipity.
Eureka.
Courage.
Faith.
Leap.
Wayshower.
Reunion.
Yes!
Wow.
How?
Interference.
Inspiration.
Example.
Hesitation.
Consciousness.
Critical mass.
Quantum Leap.
Reunited.
Peace.
Love.
Joy.
Heaven on Earth.