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In the warm peace
of my sleeping bag I had to face two major facts; one
was the message on the cell phone and the other was
my complete lack of appetite. To keep my promise to
make the employment interview it was a logical foregone
conclusion that I would need physical energy to deal
with making an effort to depart the island. In many
ways, the death traps defined by the obstacles in the
glacial river around the island didn’t appear evil, no more than a mote around a castle is evil.
My little island was a protective refuge from a world
where people in high speed power boats give no heed
to the fact that passing a one man kayak at sixty miles
per hour left a series of huge waves that could easily
tip a kayak over leaving a person to drown.
I had to acquire the skill of turning my kayak bow toward
the on coming wake so it would ride through the waves
rather than be tipped back and forth in a dangerous
way. The glacial river with its submerged obstacles,
currents of opaque water obfuscating river depths, all
worked together to make this river a very dangerous
place for people in boats and even wildlife. On my little
island I didn’t see or hear any powered water
craft, not even an air boat would travel these rivers.
I discovered that the all important phone message actually
came while I was getting my kayak ready for the trip
but never heard the phone ring, if I had received the
message I would have never made the trip down the river.
Perhaps I was prevented from hearing the phone ring
so I didn’t abort the trip. In a similar manner during previous efforts to make a flight to Canada to visit my friend, I had failed to take my passport with me and after making a flight all the way across Alaska, I was barred from making the final flight to Canada because the airlines required a passport for travel. I now realize that failing to bring the passport was no accident because the seeming accident caused me to remain in Alaska where I was attended to during intervening events by a being with celestial character. There was a critical appointment I was meant to keep with an event involving powers beyond my understanding; the failure to bring my passport permitted a return flight passing right over the summit of Mt. McKinley then descending to a flight that took me right over the area I now know as the Convergence which is exactly where I was suppose to travel to at the height of summers. Regardless, in my foolish efforts to remain faithful to a fault, three days later I did make the trip to Canada where I was showered with material gifts beyond my imagination. It seemed unbelievably wonderful but in another way it did seem odd in an eerie way; after twenty plus years, the friend I knew had changed, he wasn't the same free, happy go lucky wilderness friend as I remembered him in Alaska. I could see it in his eyes and relationship with acquaintances that catered to beings that meant me great harm. It was a frightening moment on the back road highways of Alberta Canada when I was given responsibility to drive my friends car through a land unfamiliar to me while I had to try and endure conversation so filled with perverted filth and morally twisted thought. I had recently returned from a country of moral purity where this kind of thought and conversation were rarely found unless someone were foolish enough to go dig deep enough to seek out the rare connections to westerners living in small dark subgroups deep within the urban sewers of Asia I had not experienced this since my recent return to Alaska due to my daily association with Koreans who knew nothing of this moral degradation. In essence, any understanding of this perverse thought had been lost in my 12 year absence from the west and to experience it while visiting with a friend who claimed to be one with the Source of Light and Purity was a shock I had never before experienced. The timing of this incident where I came under a barrage of moral filth, was an assault engineered to induce a great level of psychological stress while I was driving an unfamiliar car in an unfamiliar land; designed in such a way that missing critical turns and directions was destine to kill me and everyone in the car. This incident became a dividing point in my relationship with my friend, a person I once knew as very free with a desire to know the depths of nature's mysteries. I could detect the presence of my former friend but he was being used as a host to undermine a critical appointment involving an event between life and death this story details. I had to stop and ask, "Why would an acquaintance who visited me in Alaska more than 20 years ago just suddenly appear out of nowhere, someone I knew in the distant past but who never made contact during the intervening twenty plus years suddenly begins to assist me, sending hundreds of dollars before departing Alaska, then upon my arrival in Canada showered me with so many gifts that it is difficult to count?" For me, the single most important thing my friend had offered me was his friendship, yet upon my return to Alaska to look for employment and take responsibility for the children I had returned to help. The only thing of value that survived the visit to my friend's house were two packs of underwear. The most valuable and precious gift of friendship had been replaced with the opposite character of hate, distrust and bitterness, unfortunately his unrelenting bitterness and anger is not against me but rather against the Power that guides me. Now I fear for his life because there is no refuge for anyone who fosters a hate for the powers of nature and life. The last place anyone should go while fostering a hate for the powers of nature and life, is into the very heart of the wilderness; regardless of where this natural power is focused, it must be approached with fear and awesome reverence.. It's similar to saying the last place a person should go who hates snow is the North Pole; or the last place a person should go who hates Spanish people is Spain. He who wields the powers of life and nature will act to correct all attitudes that are not in harmony with the rhythms of life. Just as this story shows, when entering nature carrying an attitude or spirit of death, nature will rapidly surround that person with death until all aspects of death (like hate, unforgivenss, vengence) are consumed. If they fail to grasp the Power of Life and Light, they will be washed down the river of forgetfulness, never to be remembered again; all of this happens and afterwards they forever suffer in torment struggling in a world of death created by the author of hate, distrust and bitterness whom they provide refuge for in their hearts. For me it's one of the final chapters in a story where religion parades itself as goodness and all things right While in Canada, it didn't take long for the intensity of physical suffering to reach its heights bringing weakness to block my return to Alaska. I figured a few weeks was long enough for a visit to a place where I couldn't legally work, especially when the trip was draining financial resources making my escape from Canada impossible. By a miracle similar to the one that got me out of Korea in February 2010, I was able to secure a low cost flight to escape a strangely tangled web in Canada. A few weeks after the trip the results of my effort to keep the appointment in the Convergence began to show up in the cleverly designed dark forces tempting me on matters of my remaining weaknesses all related to a lack of trustworthy peer friendship and a desire to live closely with nature. As I reflected on how much effort was make to stop me from reaching the little island that was truly a celestial castle of Love surrounded by an impenetrable mote insuring protection within fortified walls constructed by death, the icy waters rushed around
my island providing unique protection. Those who live in castles need a draw bridge to lower across the surrounding mote so they can
depart but my island had no such bridge; departure was
possible by physical strength or through a special miracle known only to a Love with a beauty and charm not of this world, possessing a loveliness so stunning that even death is held in hypnotic stasis gazing in dream like stillness upon a radiance powerful enough to illumine the abyss in which it resides.To witness a Love with radiant charm powerful enough to slay death itself through a beauty and charm not of this world.
Celestial Love was always near knowing my every thought.
I remembered that any action I take not directed by the heart beat of Love would be to act
wrongly and actually become an assault against Love Divine, and in so doing become an ally of death from within;
actions such as these only serve to send one into death.
As strange as this may sound, the decision to eat food
when I had no sense that this was the right course of
action, became the issue that would send me to death
if it was the wrong choice.
I remember the moment all so clearly. Exactly like
my commitment to an employment contract in Korea last
February that wound up being in total opposition to
my Father’s desires just two days before I had
flight reservations, I opted to keep my promise to an
employment contract rather than my Father’s desires
and for this act of disobedience I wound up in a kind
of dark torment in a dark Asian city that was unthinkable. But mercy prevailed and
I turned from my failure with my Father working through
my friend to help me get out of Korea and back to Hawaii
(of all places) and finally my earthly departure point in Alaska.
.
Though I had no leading or confirmation from the Love which held me, with what little strength I had, I reached
out through the screen door of my tent as the rain ran
off the cover trying to find the can of beef stew I
brought with me. Everything seemed wrong, I was weak
and needed deeper rest but it was a rest that insures
the island would be my last contact with this world,
oh what a blissful thought. I knew from many times in
the past that Love revealed in nature controlled the weather with much greater
ease than He controlled the wills of men. I knew that
the cold rain that was falling only acted to make me
aware of how poor my timing was and I should have faith
and wait. Once again I was faced with breaking a commitment
with my Dad and His Love; the first time this year was making a decision
to board a plane to Korea when He said “NO!”
Being invited to my friend’s house out of what seemed to be the
most gracious love only to discover the darkness that came during the summer night compelled me to depart in a rush
as I began to notice a growing pain that brought on weakness. As I noticed my finances
getting low I realized that my departure from Alaska was an act directly against my Father's Love. It all happened in a terrible manner as the forces of nature turned from sun one day to clouds the next and finally to cold dark rain as my friend drove me to the airport in silence; unknown to me at the time, it was the silence of the grave which is so clearly obvious now. One hope I have is that he will look into the radiant Light I saw while sitting with him in the hot spring but I feel that I must let go and get ready for departure. Time is short and I must get ready to return.
This must be my cross road for it is certainly not
I, but my Father’s work that brings the perfect
goodness of His Love to a place causing events where
unbelievable physical pain is experienced under darkened
skies as He can’t have anything to do with actions
and events that work in opposition to His Love. Everyone
turned their backs on Him. I turned my back on Him and
opened a cold can of beef stew. I remember the disgusting
moment as the can opened and what I thought was a big
piece of beef appeared under the lid. I picked up the
piece and went to put it in my mouth only to discover
that it wasn’t beef but a huge piece of congealed
fat. I tried to gather up my strength to get up and
out of the tent in the rain. I stood there with the
dripping sauce running down the sides with no place
to wash my hands or a way to deal with the chunk of
lard. I walked over to the steep river bank which was
now very slippery with rain water and carefully made
my way down to the cold muddy river and a log washed
up on shore. I tried to deal with the mess by washing
my hands in the muddy water and flipped the white chuck
of lard out into the river and watched it float down
stream. I pondered the fate of the lard in a strange
way as I don’t like to pollute natural rivers.
It was kind of funny and here I stood in the rain wording
about polluting a muddy river realizing that some happy
raven will spot that floating lard and be thankful for
his good fortune. I cleaned up as best I could, making
my way carefully back up to the dripping cold branches
around the camp area. I rinsed off with the pure clean
water I had in abundance and began to pull out my gas
stove.
It was all miserably damp and rainy with a few over
ambitious mosquitoes who some how located the island
in a world devoid of standing water where they could
breed; I assumed that my adversary was hard at work
taking advantage of my pathetic efforts to play the
part of a hide away hobo. I scooped the revolting concoction
into my camp pan and fired up the stove. It didn’t
take long for me to feel like I was trading paradise
for punishment.
After a short time the stew was hot enough to seem
different than a pan of clay scooped from the river
side. Reluctantly without an appetite I shovelled the
stuff in my mouth and tried to swallow. Like trying
to eat grease stew, I found it horribly tasteless but
I finished off the rest trying to be thankful for something
that most assuredly did not agree with the over all
plan that brought me on such an unthinkable journey.
After finishing I brought the pot and utensils back
down to the muddy river and found the clay to be an
excellent abrasive dish cleanser. With cooking gear
free of all food debris, I finally rinsed them under
clear water being sure not to waste any so I used
it for cleaning my hands and utensils.
I took time while out and about in the rain to tidy
the camp by organizing the few items I vainly left to
dry on my clothes line. Most importantly I went over
to my kayak that I had hauled ashore and found the rain
had washed off most of the sand and mud that was on
the hull yesterday. I checked inside and found all was
dry as I had flipped my kayak over to drain the excess
water from the interior. After making sure everything
was fairly organized, I returned to my tent, removing
the damp outer clothing I had been wearing and hung
it from the ceiling support string. I checked the time
and found it was near two in the afternoon. I had to plan on arrival at the nearest boat launch two hours up stream from the convergence.
I thought, if I am able to regain my strength it would
take about twelve hours for the food to accomplish this task. I knew it would be totally impossible for me to
make it back to my initial starting location on the tundra river because I would have to travel the seven mile back fighting a down stream current; with the current it originally took me five hours heading down stream with the current pushing me. If I made an attempt to travel back to my starting point I had to consider more than eight hours of paddling. I also knew that there was no way
for anyone to find a way to the glacial river by car.
I made the assumption that if I found the tundra river
I could make it to a landing area about three hours
up river from the convergence where the first public boat launch could be found.
To make clear what happen before I lay down to rest
in the tent; my journey into the labyrinth of death
in the convergence of two rivers brought me across the
boundary of life in this physical world to the process
of dying. I am dying now and will continue do so until
I return to the island where my Father took me across
that boundary and I found that what I thought of as
death was actually the entry to the most unspeakable
beauty and peace I have ever known; as I looked back
on the world I once knew as a place of life, I only
saw death in the fearful convergence that everyone in
this world are caught in but are deceived by their ignorance
that the end of their river is marked with a tomb stone
or liturgically embellished poem after flames have reduced
their body to ashes of calcium.
My decision to leave life and enter death which began
the moment I decided to eat food when I had no desire
was based upon the message on my cell phone indicating
an offer to grant my request for inclusion in the so
called “life processes” of those who were
still living in the delusional lie of this physical
world. It is imperative for me to state that reaching
eternal life doesn’t require people to kayak into
a glacial river death trap; I would have never made
the trip if I knew what was waiting for me. From all
my observations of the satellite maps and my life and
times in Alaska., I was familiar with local connecting rivers and none
of those I knew of as connecting had any steep gradients
causing cascading river waves; it was impossible
to tell the gradient of the river from the map and it
is difficult to study the river from places near civilization;
however my journey toward the source of the glacial
river during the winter when temperatures get to forty
below zero did show a lack of freezing of the river
due to the violent movement of waters near the source;
however, all rivers tend to run rapid near the source
and slow down near their terminus at a convergence which
is always another river or the ocean.
How many more can be freed from this illusionary death
trap, the world with all it empty promises of happiness
in wealth and belongings. The darkest places I have
ever seen are the luxurious houses near the terminus
of the peaceful river. They are all built on river front
property, most with luxurious boats that I now know
can’t go any further than the end of the tundra
river because the glacial river is certain death for
any boat that enters; boats that can’t be used
for nine months of the year, owned by people trying
to live the easy life like people who head to over crowded
Florida but in a land that will not permit this kind
of life style. Many people with their own float planes that
sit parked on the river day after day, week after week
because the expense of flying them is too much and the
window for float plane operations is too short.
In my tent I set my alarm for three in the morning
at washed as best I could before trying to sleep. Though
the peace and wonder of what I discovered on the island
remains always with me, I had to let the actions of
true Love guide me. As I’m learning, the purest
Love doesn’t give up the chance to reach out to
little children who are brought into the invisible convergence
that life truly is. They are innocent and yet in the
west they are frequently treated as unwanted by-products
of a society who treats the act of procreation as a
base act of recreation.
I could say that when the morning light came I would
know what was going to happen but it was fortunately
that time of year when there is no dusk or dawn, just
one beautiful sunny northern sky. This would be the
second time I slept on the island so I could enter my
third day. On the third day I might have the strength
to escape the currents that held me captive.
Continued in Chapter
11
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