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While, looking back at where I was in the middle of March, now it might seem like common sense, but I see and, to an extent, feel the emotion of being 'stuck' mentally, emotionally and physically.
To an extent I still feel this way, but Polly and Max have helped to a very large degree to re-awaken within the feeling of Freedom, at very least emotionally. To an extent I am still stuck, but to a much lesser degree as a very real feeling of accomplish driven by hope, is now identified.
The guidance to leave the past – as the past - has worked, up to a point. Years ago, I pushed really hard to suppress, what to my naïve attitude then, after two decades of living in the NorthEast, was the horror, the madness, the chaos, the deceit, backstabbing, greed, lies and malicious hurt inflicted by something as worthless as the pursuit of a piece of paper.
All the emotions mentioned here came flooding back, like a tsunami crashing onto shore of my psyche, bringing a flood of memories, and causing an erosion in the beach, amongst the memory grains, as eventually, the water subsided, rushing out, taking some of the said emotion, but leaving negative emotions stranded high up on the shore, with stuff. Just stuff. It has been a battle to control my emotions. With my ink and sketch-book, I try hard to turn to The Other Side, to the Love, the Peace, the Quiet, suppressing that bloody tsunamiand how it was created.
Suppression, however, is not good. Sooner or later – tsunamitime. Well, not right now, OK? Yet again, a lesson.
So... having regained control of emotions, what are my primary goals? Not that much has changed. Here they are: i.)Increase cash flow by $250 - $350 per month (work / sale of art) ii.)Launch JCS and build on it to reach a successful outcome. (Here define 'success') iii.)Complete Memories of Eternity ms. by July 15, 2015. iv.)Get to IANDS (Sept. 3-6th.$1,000) v.)Travel, in Fall 2015 or 2016, to visit daughter in Embassy (Berlin) Needs cash + passport). vi.)Using income from i.) above, replenish art supplies, access emotions, create 'art' (?).
i.) ii.)Other than IANDS, currently, if it involves cash, it invokes the rejoinder, “I can't” so, I do not think about many things that involve cash/money, until i.), above is resolved. This all leads to changing an inner dialogue about the future. What is slowly emerging as a more important goal than at first envisaged, is the Jack Chat Show, and what could spring from it. At the very least, when in reply to: “What have you done with the Life just passed?”
Ooh, I'm supposed to focus on a quantifiable, earth-plane goals? Aah, yes, that. Sigh... Travel, of course. How else does one learn? Ladakh, St. Petersburg, Outer Mongolia, alleyways of China, Nepal [or what's left of it].
The crux, the be-all and end-all of the matter, is that I probably would not be sitting here now, had it not been for the timely and effective intervention of Max and Polly. 
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The 'Thou and the Shalt' of... Freeform Writing.
This entry is rushed. May 5th, deadline for JackChatShow.com launch is fast approaching – very fast. My project management site, asana.com, appears to be getting more Tasks, rather than less. What is the solution?: “Ask... and it shall be manifested unto you.”
Yep! I asked for this ! What is the old saw. 'Be careful what you wish for? Is a prayer not a wish? I turned stuff, lots of stuff, emotional and material, over to The Being of Light, to The Other Side. “OK, Take Over. I give up. Steer... Guide me. Your Way, not mine.”
Nuff said, I haven't felt so motivated and enthused about a project, especially one that probably will not bring in much in the way of financial return, for a long time – who cares? I'm helping others with subject matter few know about. If they do know about it – many are reticent in discussing the subject (of alternate realities, death consciousness, etc.) For not talking about death, or a near-death experience, I blame no-one. Most recently, negating my established “selected ears” premise and emitting a more jubilant vibration, I mentioned to the local pizza palour worker, I was hosting a live-streaming TV show.
“On what...?” “Ooh, I had a near-death experience, and it's all about death, and what happens when we die – as we all will and do....”
That is where I stopped. The conversation ended. Why? The look on this fellows face. One side of his jaw went left, the other... right. His face had changed from complacent, to one of abject terror.
Not only did he throw me out of the pizza palor, he called the police as well, later slandering me as a terrorist, because, I said: 'We will all die.' [As, of course, we will. Sooner or later... we will die.]
And that, is where the jackchatshow.com comes in, and I'm hoping I can help.
And this has or has not not been Freeform – if it has, good. If not... so be it. Deadline cometh. Must run. As they say back home: “If I don't see you through the week... I'll see you through the window.”
Jack OUT. Teaching and Learning... Learning and Learning
They often say, and I have proven this to myself more than once, that “...should you really want to learn – go teach someone, what you think you know. Then you'll learn, what you thought you knew.”
This was proven as few years ago, when, trying hard not to lapse into the mode of arrogant, recently graduated undergrad, I applied to tutor art at a local non-profit art place. Receiving zero support and almost less pay, I persisted in creating a class: Pastels for Impressionists.
The class parameters were stated clearly. 'Must have Drawing Fundamentals, must have a command of pastels, hard and soft and be familiar with working on Wallis or Sennelier special pastel paper'. Of course, all this and the pastels cost the student. I know. Stated clearly at the top of the enrollment form.
In class, middle Americans, architect and friend, male, two women, no Fundamentals, - “No, and I don't intend to take that class (Fundamentals) either. Can't (won't?) pay for them”.
And so the battle raged, do I teach... do I learn? 'Art is a symptom of the process of seeing.'
“Pardon me, what's a form? Why do I need lines of, of... what? Perspective? You're weird. I just want to sketch... but I love your accent. I don't want to create a tree. See that monument in the park, that's what...” “You'll have to deal with foreshortening... have you studied Rembrandt?” “Forewhat..., who? Why does it look so weird, it won't come towards me.” “Did you read that you needed Drawing Fundamentals before enrolling in this class.” “My friend said she knew all that.” “And do you?” “Well, she said she would teach me, show me. She's good at holding my hand, that it would be OK for me to enroll.” “Normally, that is the decision made by the instructor. She holds your hand while you sketch? By the way, where is your friend now?” “Ooh, she can't come anymore. Her boyfriend doesn't....”
Sigh... Deep breath time. “Yes... you'd like to talk to me about how I teach my class? Yes, I can come into the office to-morrow.”
“Yes... you're correct. I did not present a syllabus to the class, it's printed in the enrollment form. The student is required to read that and the fact that they need Fundamentals before enrolling.”
“Well... we can't let a dissatisfied student bad mouth our hard work. They have asked that their money be refunded....”
“But they've taken the whole class...! We're two weeks away from semester end.”
“Well, that's why we can't pay you for the entire semester....”
“Can't pay...? You mean, I can teach, and they can learn, then I can learn.”
I also learnt that teaching art students, was not tutoring or leading a team of technical writers. Why? Left hemisphere vs. Right hemisphere. What did I learn? Fine tune the radar, don't get taken advantage of, or try not to, and... aw, rats, it'll happen again. I give up. 'Tis life not a learning experience?
Learning... Teaching, Teaching... Learning.   “Love is the Greatest Force in the Universe, [and the Universes that lie beyond)” those words were the last words I heard from an Ascended Master, as I was asked to leave The OtherSide, and return to Earth-plane consciousness, on my way to becoming a near-death experiencer. I have absolutely no doubt that those words are Divine Wisdom. I can not, on this blog, get into the more esoteric notions of why Love is so crucial, except to state that, when what many religions call 'judgement day', which is truly the Self, judging the 'life just passed', a great majority, if not all, takes place against the backdrop of Perfect Love, and the Wisdom of “...was that a Loving thing to do?” There are two major instances of Love, that have been instrumental in my life. The one is James (below) who sacrificed his job, to get me walking again. Then, the love between the two of us, my life-long friend, the Border-Collie, Kimdog and myself. Introducing James and his Love: Let me bring this down to another level. Back in the 1972, I lay, exhausted, spent, gambling with a major illness, gambling more with 'death' than with life. It seemed every time I rolled the dice, I got weaker and weaker. Enter two such disparate spirits that one can hardly call the connection Love, nor would anyone, in the hospital where I lay, lapsing into a coma, then pulling out again, call these two Divine, or loving – but, after awhile, I did – I still do. The most Loving friendship I have ever had, was between a spirit I named Kimdog, a Border-Collie of no mean repute nor pedigree, and myself. What in a normal society, could not have raised an eyebrow, but apartheid South Africa, where I lay desperately ill, by no means could be called 'normal' – not by any definition of the word 'normal. This spirit's name was James. James with an absolutely unpronounceable African last name, a name I have long forgotten. But James too, I, can never forget. Bear in mind, that under apartheid, the mere fact of one race touching another was punishable under the law. James, being African, was seldom allowed in the wards where I lay. apartheid dictated this. But there, as I slowly recovered, was James. “Come, Mister John, I help you walk again”; Come Mister John, put your arm around James' shoulder, we walk to window; Good, Mister John, good; Come, Mister John, we walk down passage. Come, Mister J....” Needless to say, heads were being turned, eyes were being averted... but an African ward orderly, after all, all the fellow was supposed to do, was wash the floors, he was not allowed in my side of the hospital – but there he was. Yes, eyes were being averted - but were all eyes being averted? apartheid's laws and the implementation of them, were vicious – especially if you were African, and judged a transgressor. No, vicious was not the word – let's try draconian. James and I had practiced putting one foot in front of the other – ever so slowly. Ever so slowly I started convincing my brain that my legs actually did belong to the brain's operation system, could that sub-routine please be activated? With dear James' help, dare I call it Love, at last, it seemed, my brain got the message. “One step, Mister John... now other foot, Mister John....” Such it was with James. Then, as slowly I gained confidence, and the seizures were not as vicious nor as frequent, James, did not make his afternoon appearance. Then he did. For once, the white smile on the charcoal black face was gone. It would seem, there could be a tear, just waiting to roll. “James no can help Mister John no more. They take James' pass away. I go back to Transkei.” For any African under apartheid, a pass was permission to work in certain areas. James' pass had just been revoked. Why? He had touched me, he had helped me. He had helped me walk again – knowing full well, he was breaking the apartheid laws. If that be not an example of the power of Love, agape Love, then, pray tell, what is? This is about our Love for each other, Kimdog and myself: Then there is my friend, Kimdog, who long ago went to have his waterbowl filled on The OtherSide. There were many lessons Kimdog taught me. Border Collies are very, very smart dogs. Kimdog, of course, was exceptional – after all, he was mine (!) Lesson One, never, ever, forget to fill the dog's water-bowl – ever. The sound of a thirsty tongue desperately licking and hence scraping the bottom of the tin water-bowl was a total disgrace to Kimdog. Lesson Two, that I learnt the very hard way, and paid for it with Border Collie scorn and mistrust for weeks afterwards. Do not ever, even if you are the-hand-that-feeds-dog, the him-who-shall-be-obeyed, never, ever, walk up behind dog, as he stands contemplating the clear waters of the pool in the mountain stream, and suddenly push him in. Oooh, I did not live that one down for a long, long time. I could ask myself, “Was that the loving thing to do?” Hmmm? The biggest lesson of canine agape Love came, again, as I was recovering in hospital. Two major issues consumed me. How to start walking again; once that was under control, how to reach the summit of any peak that looked feasible – with or without dog. One Sunday, as I lay in hospital bed, my father walked in. “See, Kim, there he is !” How Dad had gotten permission to get Kimdog into the hospital, I never found out, all I knew, was the leash that had been around Kim's neck had been slipped, by accident or design, I know not. Kimdog fired his afterburners. The leap must have covered at least six feet from a standing, 'where the heck are they taking me' to: ' It's him! It's him! It's my him- who-must-be-obeyed, my-hand-who-feeds-me !' Spreadeagled, Kim landed on the marvelously clean, white sheets – and, to put it mildly – went Border Collie nuts. While I had, of course, submitted to the daily 04:00 hospital hygiene ritual, Kimdog made absolutely certain, his tongue found every inch of exposed skin of mine – just in case. Mother, of course, had to offer to launder the sheets, as Kimdog's excitement, it seemed caused an ever so slight accident – but th excitement of the two of us meeting again – and feeling the Love we had for each other was absolutely ineffable – still is. Many moons later, out of hospital and into the hills surrounding my home town, Kim and I spent days, no, months helping me, in a canine manner of therapy, to completely recover. When my time comes again, to shuffle off and up The Tunnel to The OtherSide, I am more than a bit certain that Kim will come bounding out of the Purple Void of Pure Love, to leap into my arms. That dog's Love I can never forget. Absolute, total, Perfect Love. And James? What of him? What hand did apartheid deal him? Laws were such that never could I find out. But I will. Love, that intense vibration of emotion can not be broken, Love is the binding force, both on the Earth-plane and on The OtherSide. All I have to do is wait, and hope that the two, in spirit, do not leap into my arms at the same time, but leap they will – or I will into their arms. Allow me to repeat: “Love is the greatest Force in the Universe... and the Universes that lie beyond.” Peace, not pieces, Jack.  In Week 1 of the show Jack was assigned to write out a detailed account of his VISION for his life. He came up with this amazingly specific account. Can you do the same for your vision?
"I have a dream. I also have a view. I have seen many views from the summits of many peaks... till recently, this view, from this peak, was a view far too distant to even waste time and neuronal power dreaming about. Ooh, well, it was a lovely view. NO! It soon could be. The view from this summit is phenomenal. Allow me a to describe the view, as I look out from the pile of rocks that serves as a beacon, at the summit. Now, I see, I feel, I touch and experience ten maybe fifteen acres of semi-desert scrubland, what I would call, the veldt. The land, grey, brown, black, beige, white, and pebbles of every size, shape and hue. Some call it bleak and harsh – I sense this beauty as yet another positive vibration from Nature. In the distance, off about 2:00 o'clock, runs a wash, difficult to see from this vantage, here on the front stoep (porch) a third of the way, up the slope, away from the prairie. Way, way yonder, the wash stretches off the property, traversing the fence by slipping under it, in the distance, draining from the south-west sloping vantage where the studio is shaping up. Never, ever do I build on flat-land. Flatlands are for money-grubbers and merchants, not for mountaineers, nor mystics, nor dreamers. The studio I am building, straw-bale in construct, in size a combination of about 3-4 single car garages put to-gether, is safe, quiet, secure. The straw-bales allow for silence, and serve as Nature's insulation, providing warmth when needed and in Summer, keeping the desert heat out. The fence, I realize, needs explaining. This land is 'free'-land, fences keep objects in... or out, depending. Who or what needs to be kept in? Sheep, they do wander, whether lost or no, sheep do tend to wander. Why sheep in a scrub environment? To keep the Border-Collies occupied, of course. Why else, pray tell, did Nature evolve a herd of sheep? One reason only – Border-Collies! There are few things more depressing, than a bored Border-Collie. I know. For most Border-Collies that I know, they subscribe to the BCO – (Border-Collie Oath [Section ii, as amended]) that being: “...herd, herd whenever you can !” Ooh, BCO Section _i?: “Never, ever, bite the hand that feeds you!” So... now I have a view from the summit of the land, the sheep, three BCs, I see the boundaries, I can even describe the few Maslow constraints that are emerging, shelter, sustenance, aha! That's what's 'missing' ? Our needs are simple. But needs, are still... needs. We need KROH (Keep Roof Over Head) issues resolved in this summit view. Of course, the 'we' I have referred to, is , of course, made up of sheep, (check) BCs (check) land (sure) sustenance, of course... aha! What's missing? You. For you, I hope, will remain, much as you are. You, just as you are, loving, intelligent, sensuous, caring and carefree, as a partner in this view – and enjoying whatever caring I can steer your way. Aah, now, to complete the Maslow scenario, our initial studio, the living quarters, that is, is about 100 by 40 feet (initially). Off, in the corner, perched on a slightly raised platform of wonderfully resilient, hard-baked mud, like most of the rest of the floor, is our double-bed. Not too distant from the bed, the pot-bellied wood-stove. Near the foot of the stove, three separate piles of rather grubby blankets. Three Border-Collies do need to sleep somewhere. At the other end of the room, the kitchen and a stove. Not much more. Shelves, sure. Half-way between the corner bed and kitchen, a decent size fire-place, where, after the BCs have been evicted from our pillows, on the floor, and on a cool, autumn evening, with just the faintest glow from the embers, there, we love, just you... and me. The beauty of this view...? Nature's abundance has provided a natural insulator, an insulation from noise, from cold, from heat, giving a natural sense of security – and quiet – straw-bales. The ceiling of the studio has exposed wooden beams, with strips of dried saquaro, making up a ceiling. This pains me, but I use the dead trees as sparingly as possible, and thank the spirit of the tree, for its sacrifice. The area above our bed, will has netting hanging below the saquaro strips – scorpions have a habit of dropping in at inappropriate times. Now, outside, we have instituted water-harvesting. Water, which is conscientiously directed from the roof to the tank, aside the south wall. If needed, we can kick the windmill into work, presuming the wind is co-operative, and sparingly, we can pump from the aquafur. While you are free to design your 'room with a view', I have already created mine. Similar in construction to the main room with its plastered stucco and colourful walls, my art studio is... mine. This is where I download my control batch of Creativity to translate into oil, ink or pastel images. With a northern aspect, I have light streaming in from high above in the north wall, with large sky-lights in the roof as well. Everything else is solid strawbale – no windows to let heat in. Also, other than the workbench, off in the far corner where I have my power, ceramic and encaustic tools, I have a luxury, specially designed for the two-D artist, like myself – that is, space to step back from the easel at least five to six of my long strides. Why on earth? To view the image from a distance, and, like life, to obtain a better perspective of the image. Ooh dear ! Even the best of manifested dreams, occasionally have a hiccup in the plans. I said 'power tools'. That means electricity... aah, yes. Solar panel people, please. There, solves that problem. See, artists are problem solvers. But, and this one isn't quite as easily solved, or if it is, it could cost. That's the need for, no, not a luxury, a necessity – high speed Internet. Downloaded from a satellite? Hmmm... ? Cost. Dream on. Then again, is it quite such a necessity? Monet, and Master van Gogh didn't even have a metal tube (at first) to put their pigment in. They could barely imagine a camera. So why can I not create, or survive, without the Internet? Betcha, in this view from the summit – I can. I will, if, in this view, you are there by my side. Well, this view from the summit started out with a few acres, sheep and the dogs. Well, I'll train the BCs to obey my whistle, to herd the sheep, and above all, to leave a rattle-snake alone – severely alone. While I have had a very, very now escape from a rattler, I'm not too certain if I want a canine to tackle the thing – part of Nature, yes, I understand – a most deadly part of Nature, at that. Like most real estate, dreams have location, location, location. What? Dreams have a location? It's OK... just testing – maybe you truly were asleep. Let's get one thing straight, this is my dream, my view from the summit. Open to dream interpretation – surely, just don't call me Freud. So you are a skeptic with this type of thing? OK... I was too. Until I proved to no bigger skeptic, than myself, that manifestation of dreams can and does come true. Recall that one only appreciates water, once the well has run dry. Likewise, I now appreciate my Freedom, having for 36 years struggled to imagine this strange concept called Freedom. For ten years, I tried to leave apartheid. It was a trying experience, feeling the negative vibrations of people beaten with whips, tear gassed, tortured – and to feel that negativity – and know I could not do anything about it. How is the view from the summit, this dream of mine any different? I'm Free. If I feel motivated to do so, I can express my opposition to events, without threat of banishment. Am I truly able to manifest ten acres of land, sheep, a partner, plus the BorderCollies...? Not as things are at the moment, I will not be able to. But, I'm still trying. How did I reach this summit, where I now sit, back resting against the brown, white and grey stone beacon, how does any mountaineer reach the summit of any peak? Quite simple. Find the peak, check all logistics, create a rece the peak, decide where to have breakfast break ( a gurgling stream with crystal clear water for morning tea, would be ideal) survey the route, after establishing an escape route, in case of inclement weather. Then, gasp, comes the truly difficult part. You hoist the rucsack to your back, help your partner on with hers, and... aiming in the general direction of the summit, which might, or might not be in view, set one foot in front of the other. That is how I have often reached the summit of a peak. And enjoyed the view from it – that is one reason to reach the summit. As Malory is reported to have said, when asked why he wanted to reach the summit of Everest: “Why... ? Because it is there, that's why?” Why do I dream, why did I leave the most beautiful country n the planet, with people as wonderful. Freedom. Because it was there. If I could get away from apartheid, get to this country, achieve what I have achieved, then turning the view from the summit into reality, should be a lot, lot easier – should be. How can this view be turned into an 'actionable event'? “Ask, and it shall be Manifested unto You.”" ~ Jack It was a very, very good first show. Oh, there were kinks, as can be expected. Iron them out and on we go. The one thing I realize from listening carefully, that I can meditate on, is the fact that I had goals – then, most were achieved. I dreamt of this esoteric concept that I now spell with an uppercase 'F'. The concept of Freedom. Having only once experienced a modicum of Freedom (in Nepal) in 1981, before I came to the U.S, in 1982 I can honestly say, I spent most of my life in a police state in apartheid South Africa – but now? Now I'm Free – well, as I have discovered, Freedom is a matter of perception – and the size of your bank-balance. No matter, I am Free ! That goal achieved. Then I became the first South African, with no oxygen, rope or crampons, to fall over the Ganga La, at 19,900 ft. in the Himalaya. Hmmm... Sixty foot later, I had survived that one. We ran back to make the plane in Khatmandu, and back to apartheid South Africa. Goal achieved there too. Then I got married, and now have a daughter who makes me soo very, very proud. Never did I think it would happen. A graduate of Yale, U.S. Diplomat... another goal achieved. Then published in a national computer magazine, and read from Hoboken to Helsinki, from Montclair to Madras. Never in my wildest dreams did I foresee being published in the most competitive market on the planet plus a good bit of ego stroking as well. Goal achieved. Then achieving some notoriety as a sr. technical writer. Goal achieved! A B.A. with two majors and a minor came next, in 2007. On top of that, I am now healthier than I have ever been. Major goal achieved. Sooo? Now what? Where is the vision? Where is my goal? Yes, my daughter is on her second international posting (Berlin) – I'd love to visit. Travel and learning is a goal. Probably the vision I now have though the complexities of achieving the goal are major, that is, of helping Boomers overcome their fear of end-of-life issues. Where the capital, the technology and audience will come from I do not know. A distant vision. A major vision, for me, though most ego driven, I have been told, is obtaining my PhD. Maybe, maybe not. Money, or lack of it, yet again. Personal goal: Go find a partner (at the moment, on the not too distant horizon) find a few acres, plus two or three Border-Collies, build and art studio, and proceed from there. Over and above all of the above is a very deep desire to reach a higher level of consciousness, building on what Einstein is quoted as saying: “All I want to know, are the thoughts of God... the rest are details.” Well, I have modified that to: “All I want is to merge again with the mind of God... the rest is details.” In the mean time, here I sit, trapped in Tucson. To get out of this trap, I need to change my thinking. What I truly need is to (mentally) go on a mountain climb, work the logistics, recce the peak, the route, the escape route and eventually, set one foot in front of the other. Sooner or later comes the view from the summit – aaah! Worthwhile it certainly is ! Sooner... or later. Enter Polly and Max.... next.
2. What is your least favorite word? A four letter word that starts with an 'H" and ends with an 'E' Most destructive word in the Universe 3. What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally? Going nose-to-image with a master artist's original art. Sends chills down my spine to see the brushmark(s) of Monet, Master van Gogh, etc .4.What turns you off? Arrogance. Esp. when money or hurting someone else is flaunted 5. What is your favorite curse word? Damnit ! 6. What sound or noise do you love? Sound of water running over a small mountain stream rapid. 7. What sound or noise do you loathenThumping of heavy metal. 8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Back to technical bookselling, or developing my 'acting' role. 9. What profession would you not like to do? Accountant. 10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? Been there, done that - no If about it. "Do you now understand why you had to return to the earth-plane... 'Well done, you have grown, have not? Now, What have you done with the Life just passed ?; Whom have you Loved and been Loved by? ; What have you learnt ? ' "  In 1982, I came to this country as an immigrant from apartheid South Africa. Within the first five years, I labeled this country “The Land of No Sleep.” Hard work, dedication to ‘the cause’ , plain old tenacity – and prayer certainly helped my cause of survival in a rather strange society. Why I continue to succeed, some have described as a ‘European work ethic’. I must still decide what that is, but to this day I surprise even myself at what I have achieved in the most competitive market on the planet. While trying to escape the negative vibrations of apartheid, a serious illness created the adventure that continues to this day. In 1972, I flat-lined, and was treated to a ‘core near-death experience’(NDE). Now, as I recover from the financial effects of the Recession, I still hope to achieve my PhD in comparing quantum physics with the NDE. I am certain there is a correlation between these two esoteric phenomena. This phenomena fascinates me (as does Creativity) and I continue my research into this phenomena and hope to develop a series of lectures on the subject. I have published and continue to write on the near-death experience in the hopes of helping those with a fear of death. I was forced to leave high-school due to illness. A miracle that I can only attribute to the NDE, is that I am now healthier than I have ever been. A few years ago, I mumbled: “I wonder what this thing called ‘community college’ is all about?” I certainly found the answer, via Pima Community College and the University of Arizona, and am now the proud recipient of a B.A. with two majors and a minor (Studio Art, Creative Writing and minor in Psychology even though most classes in psychology were at an Honours level.) This all thanks to the American taxpayer, as well. I cut the ‘noose of domesticity’ 14 years ago, but the product of that marriage, an only child, Allison, now 29, graduated from Yale with a Masters in International Public Heath. Allison is currently serving her second international posting as a U.S. Diplomat, liaison to the U.S. Ambassador to Berlin, Germany. How proud can a father get? Shortly after arriving in Arizona, responding to the energy of the Sonora Desert, I delved into my right hemisphere’s creative side in developing a long suppressed love of Nature and art. I create in ink, oil and pastel, and continue to dabble in encaustic. In summary, after 33 years in this country, I am a.) technical writer b.) a technical editor, c.) a southwest Impressionist and d.) a death educator. My Positive Principle Show goal i.) To increase my cashflow by (US) $250 - $350 (or more) per month ‘Minor’ goals ii.) to, (while achieving my PhD?) help others in reducing or negating the fear of death through talks and discussion sessions iii.) to develop a modicum of prominence in art and/or writing iv.) to learn by traveling. |
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May 2015
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