It i snow late in the season and there is no time left to make the great crossing of the North Pacific Arcti Ocean. Every dream or hope I ever had about seeing an improvement of society in the west has been trampled and burned. If there was ever any hopeful outlet for the gifts I have been given, they have be obfusated but more probabily neer exxisted.
As iy was in teh beginning of my journey my greatest griefs have come from people who are church goers; I'e been rejeted, left on the road, and ignored by these people in teh past but now upon my return I have found a specially designed system of solitary provision that leaves me to evny the creatures of nature. Of all my thinsg sent from Korea a\many of the most valuable have been stolen from my belongings while they were stored in what I thought was a safe church.
My heart fails me as this being my second day trying to drive a bus of poor messed up westen childen begen by trying to negotiate a turn in a parking lost that was imposible with a large bus; the back wheels of the bus touched a parked vehicles front bumper as I saw a huge constructon vehicle in frint of me. As I tried to avoid the construction vehicle I caused damage to the parker vehicle. There was no discussion but the directors of teh bus company instantly sent me off to a hospital not to check my health but rather to have me tested for substance (drug) abuse.
My mind has been bombarded by the sick twisted way of westen social life that revolves around disfunctional families, pitifully sad children whose ind and lives have been battered by abuse before the een get out of grade shool. I was told as an applying substitute teacher that I must know how to conduct a "lock down" which I never fully understood beause the diretion the explanation was going was going to violate my conscience. Broken families, criminals, drug abuse, ccrimes of teh most base kind no worth mentioning, homeless peopel living in areas where they hae found a place wit public acesss 12 housr a day
Tired, the great river in the north meanders quietly through the tundra into the tall pine. My kayak drifts up stream among the songs of robins in the midnight sun. Out of the still silent woods a beam of rainbow catches my eye with its brilliant colors; suddenly time stands still and the river no longer pushes my little boat down stream on its slow steady current. I do not understand how time stops yet there before me is a brilliant portal of light with a warm invitation to wake up.
Its all over and it has been for a while. All the pressures in the universe now fail to stop my departure and nothing can act to make the dream continue. Exhaustion leads eventually to sleep and every effort to keep me here produces a greater opening in the brilliant door of light beside the river my kayak floats in motionless mystery.
After what seems to be an end to a long journey, the moment arrives and I turn my little kayak back down stream where I hope to find an easy trip back to shore; paddling down steam amidst the silent calm river is not easy but rather arduous, the silence is broken by the loud clap of a beaver's tail slapping the water's surface. I paddle over to chase the beaver who leads me away from his sturdy lodge by river side. I soon find myself exhausted after the chase so I slowly drift in quiet peace beside the beaver lodge then paddle the rest of my way to the shore where my trip began.
It's all over and the invitation remains after a summer's thunder shower calls me out to run and busy myself among the large cool drops that come and go so suddenly. My time in the failing dream now comes to an end and only those caught in its fading colors try and stop me from entering that brilliant portal of light reflected off the river's surface. I think I would like to stay but the more they try and stop me, the greater the pressure I feel in the current that is pushing me to finally wake up.
I have been there already and there is nothing in this world of fading echoes and water color stains that can keep me here. Like the sands in a clock I see the very substance of what holds me to this tear filled world dropping away. There is nothing left to stop the force that move the stars and the great river of time that I now find and end to. It has been an adventure and no regrets remain at all. Do not go gentle into that good night and with eternal day wrapped around me I now look back toward the rainbow door by the great river where the white birds drift in grace and find my breath somehow stilled and my eyes washed with tears bourn by the Sun.
|