SEDRO WOOLLEY 1          by D. Lester     THE CAMPSITE     Rev 12

The red hues were darkening fast, and the light was escaping the horizon. A yellow tongue flashed up its disapproval of the impending darkness by offering a shallow sense of security. The light, and warmth being generated from the aromatic wood drifting in the still air.

Around the fire, boulders served as seats, and the seven of us were sharing stories along with roasted marshmallows. Each one of us was piercing them with long sticks, two sometimes three wide, sitting there, drifting from one tale to another. Someone always had something to say in these sessions, when they occurred, for they lasted well into the early hours of the morning.

The campsite stood on a small clearing overlooking the village of Sedro Woolley, a small village in the valley serving as the center of the surrounding area. A village that had many mysteries, and magnetisms that seemed to keep the area captive.

On other occasions, people like TJ would sit up here alone, sometimes with special friends, pondering the reason why no one wanted to leave, and if someone did choose to depart Sedro Woolley, and decided to return, the person was never the same.

Such a person is Ray, one of them around the campfire, thought TJ. He is a gentle man in his fifties, slight bald spot on his head, and a little bit of a limp when he walks, which he has always tried to hide. However, his most noticeable feature is that when he becomes uneasy, he breaks out into a sweat that covers him from head to toe, his nerves toss it off much like a wet dog.

Ray is one excellent sculptor. What he can do with a block of wood, marble, or really about anything solid enough to hold an image is incredible. His objects reach out at you, grabbing the greatest sense of amazement from deep within you, releasing this warm glow of contentment. They usually have a texture so soft as to melt your eyes. He seems to be at his happiest, when he is trying to make something solid come alive.

Once, TJ had been allowed to watch Ray use his hands to create a masterpiece of artisanship. This was a great gift from him, for he had only let two others watch him work before. As Ray took his tools into his hands, they joined him in the striking harmony of the sound of the hammer chiseling away at pure beauty. How something so hard could turn into jelly, is something that TJ still does not understand today. TJ’s eyes were glued to Ray working, for what TJ found out later was about 7 hours. It is funny but TJ never became tired as he watched John Henry come to life.

John Henry, would turn out to share TJ’s bedroom from then on. It really was a gift too precious to accept from Ray. However, he had given it to TJ for the greatest of reasons, that of friendship, and mutual respect. John Henry's eyes peered at TJ from all the corners of the room to inspire him upon his thoughts. All TJ would have to do is look at the depth of John Henry’s face, touch his velvet skin, and the questions came seeking TJ out.

Only once did TJ ask Ray about his trip to the Outlands, and he broke into beads of sweat like TJ had never seen him do before. His nerves were jumping for two days afterwards, so TJ swore he would never bring that subject up with him again.

A branch snapped in the fire, as Steve started to tell the tale about the time in his youth that he was in the high hills, and turned the corner to see the biggest bear he had ever seen. He let out the biggest yell that he could, and the bear looked at him, letting out a bigger growl of his own. The bear's eyes pierced his, as they both froze in place. The bear then shook his head as if in pain, pivoted, and bolted away.

Steve is the outdoorsman of the group. He and his wife Janet, who was seated next to him, are more comfortable in a sleeping bag than in a confining bed. What they knew between the two of them about nature, would fill several books at a bare minimum.

Janet is a very attractive woman with a very slight Tomboy look. Given most any situation, she could handle them with the ease of a great diplomat, for she has this way with words that hypnotize you into her way of thinking. She also had a feisty fist to back her up, if the person was deaf.

It was strange how they met. It seems they went to war against each other, and to this day, TJ does not know who won. It does not matter for the two of them blended into a great match.

Steve, TJ thinks, is about forty, or something like that for he never lets on about his age, while Janet is exactly twenty-nine, and proud of it. She seems to be happy about everything. She says that time is just something that moves her along to her destiny. Steve on the other hand, takes time more seriously, he tries to schedule in as much as he possibly can, except here at the campsite, where he relaxes his tempo up a bit.

Much of what TJ has learned about the outdoors came from the both of them. Steve taught TJ about all the wild vegetation, which was found in the surrounding area. Steve had taught TJ the names of every creature bigger than a speck. Steve’s favorite subjects were the birds, and it seemed that the birds sensed it. On more than one occasion, TJ had spotted a bird on his finger, or hand. The animals sensed that both of them were at ease with themselves. Janet had made sure that TJ knew all the names of all the wild flowers. However, what she had taught TJ the best was the ability to speak with a voice that commanded attention.

Opposite Steve was Jim, the architect. He is the builder, and fixer-upper of the group. He can take something apart to repair it, study it, and remember how everything would come back together. He once took a rusted up John Deere tractor apart that was deeply hidden in some remote storage barn behind cobwebs. It had been hidden behind years of abuse. Slowly he returned the beauty of the once proud machine. He painted it a shade of green that, at the time, seemed wrong, but he stated that it was the trademark of its day. TJ learned to like the color after that. It seemed fitting that something out of the past could be brought out of the dust, and restored to its former grandeur.

We all poked fun at him as to how Jim always saw things in pieces, rather than as a whole. To make matters worse, his favorite hobbies were jigsaw, and crossword puzzles, never having fewer than three going at one time. TJ learned to do them but only one at a time. He had the audacity to laugh at TJ, and say, "What is the matter with you, can you only use one side of your brain at a time."

All kidding aside, TJ enjoyed helping him disassemble an object, and put it back in working order. Once TJ was too proud to ask about how something went back together, and out of the corner of his eye. TJ thought he saw this funny look come to Jim’s eye. Being stubborn, TJ kept going until he knew he was in trouble. TJ blurted out, "It does not seem to fit." Jim laughed, and he said this, "A man should never be too proud to ask a question, no matter how much pride he will lose, for he will make a bigger ass out of himself if he does not." Moreover, he was right, his ass was showing.

A new sound filtered its way into the campsite, a melody so light that the wind floated the notes into the stars, a sound that always put nature at peace. The ole magician was casting his spell.

Martin the musician, and his electronic flute were making the sounds that blends in with the trees, and the owl's ears. All the night critters grew quiet with respect. Whenever he starts playing TJ’s mind seeks out each note. TJ will sit back, or lay down, as his mind starts springing among the clouds, flying among them with his own imagination to this special magical place no one else shares. A dream world where his mind is put at ease, and there are no questions to ask, for everything revolves in simplistic truth of a greater beauty.

TJ had known Martin all his life, just like most of the people from the Sedro Woolley area, for very few strangers turned up to inspire his curiosity.

Martin could take any instrument, and make it blend along with his voice. At the campsite however, he was always more comfortable letting, the music blend in with nature's voice.

As a small child, TJ remembers being gently pushed to develop his musical talents. TJ hated the confinement of the lessons, and practice. Only when Martin played his magic, and it stilled him in amazement, did TJ reach the next level of his imperfection. TJ remembered the bone chilling, and glass shattering sounds that started it all, when TJ first tried out the violin, seeing Martin's eyes rolling in their sockets, and his skin crawling with goose bumps. Once, TJ offered him earplugs, and he declined saying, "Thanks but they would interfere with the beauty of the sounds coming from the violin." Somehow, that statement motivated TJ, and the quality started to improve.

TJ stated he was still improving his interpretation of the violin, and that Martin never said anything about his skin crawling anymore. When TJ plays a solo, or they play a duet, TJ even occasionally sees this small smile come from the corner of Martin’s mouth of this seriously motivated perfectionist. TJ’s favorite saying of Martin is, "Let the instrument become an extension of your greatest peace of mind. Let your mind go, talking the language of the Gods in the softness, and depth of the approaching thunderstorm, letting the tempo rise, and fall in harmony with the lightning. And then let the audience seek out the stillness where needed."

TJ did not know why he had chose the violin, maybe because of the history of it, and the complexity of the sounds it produces, if it is played right.

As the sounds drifted off into memory, Socrates nuzzled TJ. He always seemed to sense things around him. TJ remembered that when he went to pick a puppy out of the litter, seeing Socrates jump, and play in the tall grass. He did a flip, and rolled down this small hill. He got to his feet, and shook his head as to say; what happened? He then spotted TJ, and kind of tilted his head one-way, then the other way, paused a second, and ran to TJ stumbling once. Then the other pups stopped their play, they also made a dash for him. TJ was full of pups biting at his pant's bottoms, knocking TJ down in play. Nonetheless, it was this wild pup with the wagging fanny, which captured his fancy. Therefore, he left his brothers, and sisters that day. They have been an inseparable pair ever since then.

TJ remembers how at first, he had snuck Socrates into the bedroom, through the window. They had a routine worked out, only to find out a little later, that TJ’s mom had already figured it out. So Socrates place at the foot of TJ’s bed was then assured.

TJ’s hand scratched Socrates ear, and he placed his head on TJ’s lap, peering out of the corner of his eye up at TJ, Socrates tail wagging in his contentment.

The last one of tonight's group was Matthew. The professor, so called because of his way of instilling thought. He would bring up a question that would defy explanation, and each one of us was left to ponder it, usually giving different interpretations on it. Most often, he did not answer his own questions, leaving us to struggle for the answer that satisfied us the most. His most disturbing feature to TJ was that when we were all satisfied with the answer, he brought inject another element into it. Then TJ would have to go to the books of Mathew’s personal library once again.

Mathew’s library had a computer in it that when you stated the subject to it, the darn thing had as many questions as Matthew. When you finally got close to the subject’s answer, it gave you references, and you had to look them up for yourself from the books given to you. Matthew said it was better that way, forcing you to do the research, rather than Zeus, the computer.

Once, TJ spotted Matthew talking to the computer, and speaking in some foreign language. In this strange language, TJ saw him research a subject, and Zeus display all kind of information. As TJ approached, Matthew spotted him, and told Zeus to stop the research. The screen blanked back to its usual form, and when Zeus sensed TJ’s presence stated, "Hello TJ, how are you today?" TJ told Zeus, “Hi!” Since then TJ’s curiosity, had at times, sought out this other language, but Matthew must have had a special key word, because TJ used all the ones he could think of.

Matthew’s talent also involved writing in different types of venues. He trained his thoughts on the pen that flowed with depth, and with great emotion. His love of the written word was well known. Whenever he had the time, he instilled the need of this in others. He did it by taking the time to analyze, and criticize in a way that the person developed a love of the language; on his, or her own terms. He never destroyed the beginning talent that was already there.

He said to TJ that giving criticism is what is sometimes hardest to do. Matthew stated, "Criticize to perfect, not destroy a language." He did this by making a person aware of his, or her faults, and then letting them know, he was going after their weaknesses in order to improve the final results. He often stated that if you are truthful when analyzing something, say what you really believe inside yourself, or say nothing at all, that it is a gift from your beating heart, because they are searching for the truth, not fabricated lies.

So here they were, all sharing a great experience. Jim walked over to the woodpile, and selected a hickory log. He approached the fire, and gently tossed it into the center of it. A snapping sound was heard, and it proceeded to send sparks spiraling into the ceiling of the night.

Jim proceeded to talk about his great find of two days ago, of course most everything to him was a great find. However, there was something interesting in this story. Jim said he was at the home of Robert Gray, a recluse, who had passed away recently. Everyone knew of him in the village, so the interest of the group had peaked.

Robert Gray, they said, used to be a genius. They said his mind could capture images in words, as well as paintings, and that his recall to detail was outstanding. That was, until his wife passed away a few years back. He then let everything go to hell, and talking to him, amounted to the most simplistic of communications. That Robert Gray had rarely appeared in the village, where anyone seen him. When he did, it was with his money card, and a list of items needed by him. No one questioned, what he did with some of these items, but everyone could tell it was not put into ‘The Dump’ he lived in.

"You know it was Robert Gray, who had a lot to do with where I am today," said Ray.

"Yeah, they said he had helped a lot of people around here," said Steve.

"He helped me get Zeus, and I know he must have something to do with the books that appeared on my doorstep, especially before his wife Helen's death. But you know it's funny, at odd times after that, special volumes appeared in different places, and how they got there is beyond me," said Matthew.

"He gave me the video disks of the great orators of their time," said Janet. "It's a shame he had to lose his mind at the end."

"Yeah, he gave me hell one time, because I had made Janet mad," roared Steve. "And I was right."

"No, you were not," laughed Janet.

"What talent the man had, he was one in a lifetime," replied Ray.

"You know, I only met him ten to a dozen times that I remember of," TJ stated. "He always seemed to be watching me with those quiet deep blue eyes. Once, while playing ball, the ball rolled over to him, and with what seemed some pain, he reached down for it. He tossed the ball toward my direction, and I caught it, I remember he said something like, ‘Your mind will be your greatest asset.’ He then walked away as I watched him disappear. Puzzled, I swear there was a gleam in his eyes.”

"I know he used to like classical music," replied Martin. "He used to come to some of my recitals, before Helen's death."

"Well,” Jim said, "I used to sneak homemade meals onto his porch in some spare dishes I had. My wife, as you all know, is one hell of a cook. To my surprise every morning afterwards, the dishes appeared on the back steps neatly cleaned, along with a small vase with a single rose in it. This along with how he knew who had put the meals there always mystified me. The more I tried to peer into his windows, the more curious I became. I never found out any of the answers, until the other day."

"Well how come you never told anyone about this?" yelled Ray.

"Because my wife made me promise not to tell anyone, or she threatened to quit cooking for me. You all know how I like to eat!" Jim said.

"It just doesn't seem right somehow," Janet said. "I thought he had totally lost it."

"Well you all know, I inherited ‘The Dump’ when Robert Gray passed on. In the will, he left everything to my wife and me. I never thought much about it, but was glad that my questions would be finally answered about how the man had lived in his final days. However, there was this curious passage in the will, 'and I bequeath my rose garden to the gardener.' Well my wife was as puzzled as I was at the time, about the statement. What and whom was Robert writing about in the will? We decided to pass it off as a whim of a dying man. We entered the house, and found a smell that turned our stomachs. We opened the windows, and then returned two hours later. We brought back a bombardment of cleaning scents, making it almost sterile smelling. In the disarray of broken furniture, and dishes with hardened mold on them, I found another letter addressed to me. It stated, 'look beyond your eyes, and seek out the puzzle you have been seeking.'" said Jim.

"Well what did you find," asked Martin.

"A great magician," Jim replied.

"That doesn't tell me anything," said Martin.

"Well show time will be tomorrow at five in the afternoon, and you are all invited, for everyone needs to be there," Jim stated.

"What the hell is this about?" said Steve.

"About a baseball, and more," Jim replied as he reached into his bag, pulled out something, and tossed it to TJ.

"Well I’ll be darned, that looks like my favorite baseball, the one I lost when I was fourteen," TJ said.

"It is, and there is more, but we will have to retire to finish the puzzle tomorrow." Jim said.

Well, all of us started to reach for our sleeping bags, and to see these strange faces on each one of us was, it was just unbelievable, and only Jim sat there with the puzzle completed, or so he thought.

Socrates found the foot of TJ’s bag, as the fire started to dwindle, and night finally overcame light.

Sedro Woolley      2      The Winged Past       Rev # 11

The fight for morning light was on; the red hues were advancing upon the night’s shadows. The sun started its morning ritual bouncing onto the horizon, reaching for its flight.

The yellow penetrating light of the morning, pried open TJ’s eyes. He had not slept very well, tossing with anticipation, and with this great curiosity inside him. He had not felt this kind of feeling in a long time. He remembered finally falling asleep, then hearing Martin's ghostly music floating inside his head. This had created a mood that had put him into an abstract fantasy world of make believe, and nightmare distortions.

TJ looked down at Socrates, and his eyes were focused on him, like that of every morning, but this morning his tail was swinging with less enthusiasm, TJ thought he was tired too.

The smell of bacon reached TJ’s nostrils. Janet was bending over the rejuvenated campfire, which now had a fabricated metal grill frame put over it to hold the pans and cookware. The redness of her eyes could be seen from here. Ray and Steve started getting our homemade table moved, which Ray had made. They were now ready to start their feast.

Steve realizing that the rest of us were semi-consciousness stated, "Rise and shine, for the day's a wasting."

What an old saying, TJ thought.

"Oh, what a beautiful day this is!" exclaimed Jim. "This is a perfect day for someone to start working a crossword puzzle." His eyes looked surprisingly well rested. His smile was as big as anyone had ever remembered it being.

"Shut up," yelled Matthew. His appearance was also somewhat ragged, “I will get even with all of you for this."

"Yeah, yeah!" the chorus replied.

Jim absolutely gloated with this Cheshire cat grin.

"Come and get it," yelled Steve.

They all drifted toward the table, where the dishes were piled for their use. Each person grabbed one plate, glass, and some silverware. They put the silverware on the table, to claim their individual spot, as they wandered over to the campfire grill to have Janet use her utensils to fill their dishes. Steve brought over an extra plate for Janet, which she filled after Steve was finished. Then the gloves were off, as each one started taking jabs at each other, to receive some jabs back in return. The conversation floated among them, from subject to subject. The barrage was to keep your head above the others, and enjoy the fray among the company of friends having a good time. This time they also hashed around tales of Robert Gray, and his many antics.

Excusing himself, TJ cleaned his dish, glass, and silverware and put them in their storage containers. He told everyone that he was going up to his lookout point. He left the campsite, about twenty minutes later he started walking among the shadows of his mother’s memories, Walking Moon Steward.

TJ mother was of American Indian heritage. Her haunting messages whispered among the winds, especially with the full moon present. Her Indian spirit often came alive within the memories of this area, putting on a glowing smile within TJ. She seemed to talk to him here, by just walking in her past steps. She seems to float down upon TJ like a blanket of love, giving him comfort in walking with their united spirits. She always had told him to walk the path of the full moon, for in the shadows lie the answers to his enlightenment.

As a very young child, TJ’s mother had taken him among these cliffs; this is where TJ had found his wings of youthful imagination. She would let him imagine himself floating, as a white eagle upon the sky, feathering the breezes of his thoughts within the free spirit of exhilarated inspiration. At times, it seemed TJ was free of any confining boundaries. She said the mind, was the heart of tomorrow’s existence, for someday it would float him away from the physical limitations of conformity. He found it strange, for there was no conformity in Sedro Woolley. She had also told him, to seek his own path of knowledge, to always seek the truth from the depth of another’s eyes, and mind that he could reason within what he was taught growing up to always determine the truth.

She had left TJ wonder about his father, Thurmond Ridgewald Steward. They were married in what she called, a greater love. She had told him that she had this great disgust for him at first. That she then started finding this lonely man with such gentle compassion. His father was just seeking out a friend, who could hug his soul into understanding him. That was when they started sharing themselves in the quest of knowledge and universal understanding. Surprisingly they started to find this friendship, and a creativity that lay between the two of them coming alive together. A year later, they were married in a secret ceremony, and almost to the day a year later, Felix squirmed to a wailing life of Sedro Woolley, as Felix Songbird Steward. Felix was not sure, but he had thought he had gained his nickname TJ, from his mother. He did ask her a couple times about where it had come from, and she just walked away smiling. His dad was some sort of big wig, and had a position as some kind of great leader somewhere, but she would never say where. Somehow, he had learned that his father would become his ghost father, for some unknown reason. TJ used to receive gifts from him, while his mother was alive, but they had stopped after that. They were mostly books on philosophy, nature, and poetry. TJ remembered his mom would disappear for days at a time growing up, leaving someone to care for him, but he learned to avoid asking any questions of where she had disappeared to.

TJ remembered of a time, when he was young, that he had gotten upset with his father, and had scolded his father for not being there for him. That is when his mother had to set him aside, letting him know his dad always asked about him, and had pictures of him growing up. That the both of them together had agreed it was best for TJ to be separated from his father for a while, or even forever. Soon the hurt healed in a sad kind of way, but TJ could feel his dad’s spirit at times, upon the winds.

Two years ago, after a sudden thunderstorm, TJ’s mom was caught on high ground, when a bolt of lightning struck a tree, which then grounded into her. She had been painting an approaching weather front, and the storm was still way off in the distance, and a freak lightning bolt struck her. By the time they had found her, she had been dead for several hours, she had been killed instantly. In a surprise, it looked like she had just finished her painting, and it was standing there drying. It was never damaged. She was buried upon the high ground of the surrounding area. TJ remembers a floral arrangement made up like an angel, which had come from his father. How his dad had found out, TJ was not sure of, but he had prayed for him to be there for the services. However, all he received was a note, and a love book of poetry called “Natural Beauty”. The note stated, “I wrote these poems for your mother and you, I love you both so much, my heart was devastated by her passing, your dad, Thurmond.” In the book of poems, he found this dedication, “Dedicated to my greatest friend, and lover for she is my inner partner of a greater love that we share together, and to a special love child, we helped conceive.” No names were given in another mystery, but TJ knew it had been dedicated to both him, and his mother, before she had passed on. The wire-framed angel still rests by her today, where the vines have taken over its shape. At certain times, TJ will add flowers to it, and keep it trimmed as a living tribute to his mother life..

What had happened last night at the campsite was a surprise to TJ, as he rolled the baseball he had been given in his hands. The sun was fingering its way into the valleys below him. Socrates had gone, and rested his head in his usual spot. The sun was starting to beat down from a clear blue sky, so he was glad he brought his hat. Some wild flowers were blossoming upon breezes from a clearing to his left. His mom, and TJ had helped scatter the seeds for the yearly abstractions of coloring.

Nibbles and his friends soon poked their heads out of the rocks, Nibbles was the present leader of the bunch of chipmunks. TJ reached into his knapsack, threw some nuts out, but kept one in his hand for Nibbles; this nut Nibbles would retrieve from TJ. Nibbles slowly maneuvered as Socrates watched, for he was trained to ignore the chipmunks. In a short while, he grabbed the nut putting it in his pouch, and waddled back to his den. He might see them later sometimes playing together, but this was a normal routine during the days he visited.

TJ looked upon the horizon to see if any of the eagles were flying, and in the far distance, he managed to make out a pair. As he sat there, he started to whistle, and soon the songbirds were singing in a joint melody. He had learned to imitate birdcalls, and that they seemed to sense his special gift of interaction. Soon all kinds of choruses echoed among the rocks, and trees. He grabbed a pen, and scratch pad to write his thought down. “The journey cracks with challenges, among an ever changing terrain.” TJ would work on that one later, for it was just important for him to get his thoughts written down, to improve on them later. The powder blue ceiling showed traces of white clouds coming out of the west but they were not very ominous right now. The mated pair of eagles had enlarged there presence, but they were still too far away for recognition. He had logged about seventy eagles, since Steve had taught him how to identify them. He kept a logbook ready, to record any of the contacts. His binoculars would be his magnified eyes.

He remembered that after his mom had passed on, he was given a sign of peace. Right about sunset one day, a white eagle had appeared from nowhere, it floated above his head circling in a majestic show. Its wings spread as if; an angel had been set free upon the heavens. TJ shouted in praise of God, as he floated among the vision before him. He closed his eyes in a prayer of thanks, to have the eagle disappear among the stars, after reopening his eyes. He recorded his vision, and the vivid details of this special angelic flight into a short story.

He closed his eyes, letting his mind float upon the winds levitating the currents of his imagination that climbs beyond the horizon upon the mysteries that bring him the blurry vision, unfocused perspectives that keep haunting him for the purpose of there meaning.

He opened his eyes, and glanced into the horizon observing the eagles circling each other getting closer and closer. They then grabbed each other’s talons, as their wings almost went vertical, descending they started falling toward earth. They keep doing this dance until they finally break loose right before hitting the ground, only to then climb back up, to repeat it again. He had seen this once before, but it was so spectacular to see. He grabbed his binoculars to identify 6f 34 and 6m40. TJ then made his notes about their mannerisms today.

He again closed his eyes, letting his mind meditate upon his inner visions. He has never understood why, but he knew that they meant something. It is at these times sometimes that he felt his mother sending her signals of tranquility. She would floats upon his aura, in this divine blessing.

TJ opened his eyes to write. “The feathered spirit levitates upon its resilience, the tethered spirit flounders upon its anchor.” TJ wrote it down with the rest of his recordings. It was his mother, who first encouraged his freethinking. She had so far published fifteen volumes of his philosophy and poetry, something he had evidently inherited from both of his parents. She had told TJ that where his dad Thurmond now lived, poetry for the masses was censored to promote productivity. From this limitation and others that he had heard about Thurmond’s place, he was complacent with his present boundaries. He did once however try to test them once, only to find too many challenges, and physical impossibilities were involved in doing it. Walking Moon, his mother had found out, but she never scolded him. He kept waiting for some kind of parental message, but all he heard was, “I love you so much TJ.”

The clouded warriors had drifted across the blue plain as a tribe migrating across time. They were tall powerful creations, strong willed spirits of his imagination. How he loved this place of seclusion and reflection. Here and there were human traces over his dreamscape, it was here, where he could fantasize becoming the liberator of creativity. He would holler among the winds of time, his orations of grandeur. He would recite the plays of the masters, with such great emphasis that they shouted upon the vibrations echoing into the heavens. He laughed, for as a kid, he even had made up some of his own hero outfits. It was here where he claimed his golden star; it was in the constellation Ursa Major, and named it his ‘Poets Star’.

TJ often wrote of this seclusion as a singular entity in a mass of nature. Implanted here by fate, which sent his spirit upon transmigrating journeys, to places where his eagle clairvoyance were smothered by humanities overabundance. Waves of people waving back and forth, in a sea of controlled lost people. He would then zone out of this view, back to his mountain reservation of complacency.

His thoughts floated back to when his first poetry book was published at seven. Walking Moon started dancing her steps, so proud, and so full of pride that day, for her loving son. TJ she had opened the book to show him the handwriting of his father stating how proud it had made him. The hook was then set in TJ, for his creative side was then set free to wander upon its own unique path.

Sometimes the dark side appeared to thunder in, on a voice rolling within a great inner pain. TJ wondered why his mom had never stopped him from feeling this at first, especially when she saw his tears. Later he would realize that living is about two extremes, and that sometimes darkness is necessary for mental enlightenment. TJ guessed that she knew that as a writer, TJ had to feel the diversity of emotions from the devastation of destruction of life ending storms, to the renewal of the beauty of springing up of life. TJ was sure she would have been there to catch him, if TJ had requested it. To her, he guessed, motivation was self-taught illumination, not a dictated conformity to someone else’s norm of imprisonment. She was there as a mother, to nurture her child with the compassion of them knowing right from wrong.

All of a sudden, TJ started to feel all alone, in this nightmare reality. He knew his mind existed uniquely. However, he could not get into someone else’s mind for any kind of comforting reassurance. This is when TJ really felt completely alone. A breeze lifted TJ’s soul among the renewed songbird’s song. His angel had been watching over him, in what mothers do upon heaven and earth. The signs were among them as Socrates stood up to sense the change. Socrates came over, and put his head on TJ’s lap. “I know Socrates, I feel her too!” Socrates eyes then looked into TJ’s, as his hands comforted his special pal. Socrates then lay down across his feet, protecting TJ from feeling so alone.

TJ warriors had traversed the ocean of sky, followed by their children scurrying to follow. TJ looked to see if an approaching storm was coming, and was assured there were nothing in the works. Socrates would have also told him if things were about to change quickly. Yes, Socrates was almost like an extension of himself, for they bonded in this hidden language of mutual respect. His mother had always said Socrates had chosen him, and not that he had chosen Socrates. TJ had thought this strange at first, but then he found out how nature works its own magic, upon it chosen ones of humanity. TJ’s mother said he was chosen for a great task, for she had an intuition that was sometimes scary to phantom. However, this part he knew his mom was wrong about, for how could one person have such an effect on others. Furthermore, God had made him too human, so full of faults.  He knew that he was a young man with too many unanswered questions to make any kind of big difference.

TJ mind wandered back about the secretive meeting at five tonight, what could Jim be up to in his meeting? How did it involve him? He again grabbed the baseball, and shifted it within his hands. He had always respected Robert Gray, for he was the de facto leader of the artists of Sedro Woolley. He was the one, who seemed to coordinate the town in some sort of fashion. However, TJ was not aware how he did it. He imagined Robert Gray at times, being a spirit of two worlds. One of these worlds was the one he was aware of, with those living in Sedro Woolley, and the other one having this great-unknown mystery. Oh well he thought, he might find out something tonight. Looking down at the baseball, he still wondered how Robert Gray had gotten this baseball from TJ, for it even still had his fading name on it.

Socrates stood up, and whimpered looking into the horizon.  TJ glanced upon the western horizon to see a faded line across the skyline. “Okay Socrates, I see it!” TJ gathered his precious notes. He then scattered a few more nuts for Nibbles and the gang. He had better hurry and get started back down the trail. He looked once more toward the approaching storm, and decided he would take the shortcut. About a mile down the trail, TJ stopped, and told Socrates to meet him below. Socrates ran ahead to meet TJ further down the trail. TJ turned to crank the improvised pulley system, as a loose line retracted over a wire reinforced taunt line. Soon the nylon harness was in his hands, after inspecting it, and the whole system, TJ strapped himself in it. Jim had helped him construct it over his mother objections. It was constructed only after TJ had promised to safety check it every time. TJ released the catch, and TJ had his wings. It released the rope at an increasing level until at a certain speed where it momentarily stayed the same speed to then only graduate down over a forty-meter landing spot. TJ un-strapped himself and laughed, for it was always so invigorating. TJ had promised only to use it, if it seemed things were changing too fast to walk down. Socrates echoed that he had seen TJ land, so TJ preceded down the path.

The wind was starting to pick up, and the rain was upon the air, but TJ sensed no immediate danger, so TJ decided to make his way down to Sedro Woolley, after all, there was a shelter half way down, for any emergencies. Socrates barking became louder, and he was making it for the record books. Soon he came bouncing like a jackrabbit whipping around TJ’s feet. TJ looked at where they were, and said to Socrates, “Darn that is thirty meters better than your very best.” Socrates seemed to know wagging his tail so proud, TJ had to hug him. “Come on, we got to get home.” That was his signal as he darted ahead, and knew he had to follow. They had a game they invented, where they would hide, and it was up to TJ to spot Socrates. He was so good at it now that TJ had to use an intuitive sense to spot Socrates. Every once in awhile, when TJ would be momentarily distracted, Socrates would catch TJ in one good rush, making TJ jump in surprise, then barking off down the path.

It was an hour, and fifteen minutes later. The rescue shack was now behind them, when the wind let them know that they would be inside for at least an hour during the storm. TJ nodded to some of his neighbors going by, and whistled his signal to Ray, who was working on a sculpture in his back yard. Ray had become programmed to this signal, as TJ pointed up at the sky. Jim, at times, would get too self-absorbed in his work. Jim started to gather up his things, as TJ turned the corner to see Socrates lying on the porch with those, ‘I beat you eyes’. “Smart aleck!” TJ smiled.

The storm proved itself to be very formidable, as sheets of rain poured, electrified upon the air. Cracking thunder shaking the house as Socrates watched over TJ. TJ had zoned out the weather by reading a book that was ‘Gone with the Wind’. TJ just relaxed with the song of the storm waiting to get ready for the meeting later.