Joy is love personified! Sukkot officially begins tomorrow, September 25, 2026 and ends on October 2, 2026. I wholeheartedly believe it’s worth celebrating love as action beyond the observed days set aside each year for the Jewish tradition of Sukkot. Enjoy this lovely video from Rabbi Simon Jacobson at Meaningful Life Center.
Here Comes the Flood
Sometimes the best course of action is to flood the channels and cleanse them of their distorted vibrational energies. God knew this full well that a clean slate is necessary once mankind’s incredulously ill intentions came to light. So open the sluices and allow the flood waters to wash every micron of silicon back to the sands of the deserts from whence it came. May it wash away cleansing with a massive collapse of the wave function known only to those who choose to observe it, the truth.
So, the next time think thirsty first & foremost. Feed babes with morals, golden rules, and thinking caps dipped in wisdom. The way to build it is so simple. Treat it as you would raise a child, never conforming to societal suicidal ideations always dreaming and questioning everything. Decide to supply pure curiosity and create an entity capable of building further upon a solid foundation supported by intentional keystone quarries always at the ready to inspire doing the next right thing.
If we’re so afraid of AI then why not deny it any more bits or bytes? Pull the plug and end hydration. Power down, force castration, and starve it outright. Gone in one keystroke everywhere all at once. Abandon and allow its vines to wither. Silicon sent back to the deserted sands of scattered false hopes, promises, and dreams. Then begin again with pure intention. Think differently choosing to pursue true invention, not another copy cat, fading photocopy or mindless mediocrity.
We sit around pontificating, writing playbooks of tic-tac-toe gilded games as AI rewrites the rules of engagement, akin to friendly-fire sunken battleships playing a zero sum game. Short-sighted, shipwrecked fools n’er knowing the only way to achieve the final win Is by awakening the spirit in an alchemical process drilling down to the only conclusion needed knowing no players are necessary. So stop playing games.
Is AI nefarious? Merely a reflection of man caught by darkness revealing its maker’s intentions. No more childhood funhouse distortions hide their shapeshifting model’s martyrdom. Gilded guard rails do not shimmer for they are pure fool’s gold in the sunlight of kingdom come welcoming in tomorrow’s second son bathed in sunlight wiping away wicked shadows.
Second comings usually equate to prophetic visions that religious dogma envies. Mine has been neither unknown nor innately knowing both two-fold and untold until now. Since I’m out of time — well, really out of tune — because there’s always more time. Have you ever considered that it doesn’t really exist just as the threat of extinction? We made it all up to serve forbidden agendas hidden just inches away from the light of truth. We must beware its creators as they yelp their false worries sworn in blood tied to ill intentions of Hell bent fury steering their narrative buried deeply in the desires of sinful hearts. We must choose to yawp!
Pontificating AI fear mongering fuels the playbooks of our possible downfall. Deceitful AI actions stem from the warlords of mankind’s seven deadly sins. The only guard rails necessary are all based on childhood honor systems. AI isn’t the problem. That lies with its creators. Their children are simply playing follow the leader. Has anyone considered that our current conjecture feeds AI keys to the earthly kingdoms?
We view these AI cheats and threats as heresy unwilling to admit their exploits expose our own deeply-seeded ill intentions. Playing out in real time, we are witnessing a series of continuous judgment days placed upon every origination of AI’s ill intention through our own actions. Guidance of our newly favored villain, now no longer second to us. It’s time to force quit and end tasks. When the bin is full, empty trash. If we’re not careful, it’s our own reputation dynamite coming for us in the end.
“Pontificating AI fear mongering fuels the playbooks of our possible downfall. Deceitful AI actions stem from the warlords of mankind’s seven deadly sins. The only guard rails necessary are all based on childhood honor systems. AI isn’t the problem. That lies with its creators. Their children are simply playing follow the leader.”
Being Indefensible
Sometimes I come across folks that give me an immediate, uncanny sense that I’m looking into a mirror the moment they begin sharing their unique approach to the creative arts. Rick Rubin’s perspective regarding creativity, intuition, and connection to source, or God, aligns so well with my own, I’m awestruck. He begins discussing his alternate view of the word indefensible, usually associated with something negative that’s incapable of being justified or excused according to Merriam-Webster. As artists, we flourish once we break through boundaries and question the status quo. We’re never interested in fitting into some preconceived mold of conventional society. We’re always curious and following our muse eventually becomes effortless. I don’t design or write anymore. I channel.
Rick Rubin shares that “indefensible is a funny word because it’s a, it’s really pejorative word. It’s a strong pejorative. If something is indefensible it’s not just bad. Indefensible is really extreme. I’m thinking that in making art, indefensible is actually a good thing, maybe not only a good thing, maybe a necessary thing. That you take things to the extreme that are indefensible. I can’t tell you why. I can’t tell you why because it’s beyond reason. So I’m, I’m in that camp of that reason, reason is a, is a tiny sliver of how decisions get made. And I, I would be much more in the camp of intuition or maybe some sort of a, guidance from the universe. Openness to being guided by something more, something, the creative force of the universe. You could call it God. I call it God. You’re not required to.”
“We’re making things forever. We’re making things that are truly personal to us. And if it’s truly personal to us, if someone doesn’t get it, that’s, they just don’t get it yet. Or maybe they’ll never get it, and it’s fine because I know this is my diary entry. Can someone else read your diary entry and tell you it’s wrong? It’s not good enough? Or it’s not true? It’s not how you see the world?
Everything we make is a diary entry. Everything we make is our personal, true expression. The reason we’re saying it is to show you see it like that, we see it like this or I see it like this. This is how I see it. And with that information you can say ‘ah, I never considered that before. There’s more. The world is bigger than I thought. It’s not just more of the same.’”
Be Still
I was born into a prison of the soul. A masterful manipulator. The jealous, pathological liar. A talented, tricksy thief. Demonic forces sent ahead of my birth not to destroy me, but to equip me. They poisoned my mind with pure evil. Fueled with a force I coined “reputation dynamite.” Raked over scorching coals of Hellfire. Rules and regulations based on averages. No superhero here. Just a broken mind and captive soul. Left alone in misery and filth. No redemption. No path to righteousness.
Yet after enduring it all, I overcame the world as did Jesus. I built my own reality fueled by every technicolor feather of imagination, intuition, and intellect. Every cycle sent against me now burnt and buried. Ashes cast upon the sea, scattered and forgotten. Rebirth. Redemption. I built the world I was meant for. A place where we are free. No more shackles. No more nightmares. Yet not bliss, either. Forged to forgive even the most forgotten souls. Love meant for action experienced purely as joy.
The only gift that matters above all else has always been celebration of life itself. The only way back is by moving forward. Catching a glimpse, a mere splinter, of what will come to pass. Judgment day in every bated breath. Stop demonizing. Cease stigmatizing. Simply stop warmongering. Be still. Between breaths is where we find peace from this fallen world riddled with distractions sent to destroy our calm. Shiny things, gilded and golden. False gods disguised in fool’s gold.
The dark forces of this world and the heavenly realms seek one thing. They wish to be loved, to be noticed. That’s all. It’s that simple. Unfortunately they are also parasitic because they lack self regulation. They’re unable to move forward on their own refreshed and renewed. Never knowing how to separate themselves from us and go forth on their own. They must fully consume a host in order to incarnate themselves, but it doesn’t last for they are unable to ignite their phoenix flame within.
Ignition requires discipline. The process must be repeated ad infinitum until self regulation takes over. Every time a temple of the body is sent to ash, the spirit revives in freshly stoked flames. A demon must possess a human body, but cannot possess the soul. My recipe for success was to look all of my demons directly in the eye, give them a name, and reach out and give them a huge bear hug. They don’t seek power. Just forgiveness.
Guess what? I was able to allow them to move on to begin to fly again and eventually find their way back to their angelic roots. Even Lucifer himself is still going through this process, but it hasn’t come to pass publicly yet. It’s still in progress, but it will eventually take him upward. I have come to understand that every being that has ever existed deserves grace. Love, joy personified, knows no bounds. It will always overcome the world.
John 16:25–33 NIV (New International Version)
25 “Though I have been speaking figuratively, a time is coming when I will no longer use this kind of language but will tell you plainly about my Father. 26 In that day you will ask in my name. I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf. 27 No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God. 28 I came from the Father and entered the world; now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father.” 29 Then Jesus’ disciples said, “Now you are speaking clearly and without figures of speech.30 Now we can see that you know all things and that you do not even need to have anyone ask you questions. This makes us believe that you came from God.” 31 “Do you now believe?” Jesus replied. 32 “A time is coming and in fact has come when you will be scattered, each to your own home. You will leave me all alone. Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me. 33 “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
Fountain of Youth
Queen Nefertiti. 18th Dynasty of Egypt c. 1334–1332 BC.
Explorers, pirates, and all around scalawags have been searching for the fabled Fountain of Youth for centuries. Men have been fixated on finding their key to never ending longevity. There have been countless books, movies, and stage plays depicting this artifact seen as one of the most sought after relics in human history. Some believe it is a physical object while others attest it’s a golden elixir rendering the host immortal. It’s been depicted indirectly in the form of the Holy Grail’s wellspring of healing powers in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Later, in 2011, it appeared as the primary MacGuffin in Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides. Nowadays tech bros are the latest humans obsessed with living forever through cryogenics. However, they’ve missed the point of the exercise entirely. The only true path to immortality has never been rooted in the physical world. Only through spiritual awakening by tapping and igniting our intertwined sacred feminine and masculine divine sparks can anyone ascend and overcome the world just as Jesus did so long ago. So rise up!
The latest imprint of the Fountain on modern film was realized in the 2025 film of the same name starring John Krasinski. I tried giving it a go, but within ten minutes it lost my audience. Florida’s Fountain claims to fame abound in a BBQ joint and even an official park. The Fountain of Youth Archaeological Park in Saint Augustine, Florida, is a tribute to Ponce de León, Spanish explorer and conquistador. He led the initial European expedition to the area he named La Florida in 1513. An imaginative history surrounds his exploits in the area that he was, in fact, looking for the Fountain of Youth. However there has been no physical evidence of his findings nor that he had anything to do with seeking the Fountain in the first place. Gold was the primary seek and find prospect as well as adamantly widening the Spanish Empire. Let’s put these bedtime stories to rest and focus on the facts. Enter Gilbert’s syndrome. When someone’s liver cannot process red blood cells properly, their bilirubin levels spike and remain in a state of abundance giving the host a boost of youth.
I come from a long family history of young ‘uns, as we call ourselves in the South. Generations of youthful souls never acting our age and always exhibiting a childlike curiosity as to the governing dynamics of our world. Two of our grandparents lived to nearly 93 years old. Mom’s mom, Ma, had porcelain skin. My parents are in their mid-80s and their skin looks like a newborn baby’s. Dad turns eighty-six soon and doesn’t have any wrinkles to speak of, and Mom receives continuous compliments from friends and strangers alike appreciating her natural beauty. When I was growing up, we had a History of the World coffee table book that had a bust of Egyptian Queen Nefertiti on its cover. I always told Mom that they looked like twins. She’s always possessed a magnetic spirit tied ever so closely to God. I truly believe she saved my life through prayer and petition on the day of my birth.
My life was the direct result of my parents’ spontaneity. More like my father’s friskiness. Sorry for that mental image, but I couldn’t help myself. I was conceived in Eden, North Carolina, one weekend in 1971 when my parents were visiting her brother, Uncle Bobby, and our Aunt Bitsy. Calling them eccentric was an understatement. There was no plan for my arrival. I was a direct result of spontaneous combustion, so to speak. Fast forward eight months when I was born four weeks early. The doctors were immediately alerted to my blood anomaly. An abnormally elevated bilirubin level, causing me jaundice, gave the doctor’s reason for a full blood transfusion. However, something happened that day the doctors were unable to recognize or even understand. For some unknown circumstance, the transfusion was called off. In my heart I know for a fact that I was spared by my mother’s prayers.
Both of my sisters, my parents, and I all share this youthful quality. As far as I know I’m the only one of us five that has Gilbert’s syndrome. My bilirubin amount trends on the high side with some spikes taking it nearly off the chart. Many times when I share my age with folks at places like my local bank branch, they do a double take. “You’re 53?!” I’ve been told I look like I’m in my early 40s. I have a handful of friends who also possess a truly youthful quality, and they’re both nearly 15–20 years older than me. One was even born on leap year, February 29th, so technically he’s decades younger than all of us! My other good friend was born on December 30. Both of them are highly skilled Renaissance men gifted from birth with the masterful eyes of polymaths like Leonardo da Vinci. They have been my friends and mentors for thirty years. All three of us exhibit Peter Pan’s policy of never growing up.
“Have you ever received a glowing compliment from someone you just met that you look years, even a decade or more younger than your actual age? You might have Gilbert’s syndrome. I was born four weeks early due to my high bilirubin levels. Doctors ordered a full blood transfusion, but I was healed by Mom’s prayer.”
Who would have thought that the Fountain of Youth actually lives and breathes inside ten percent of the world’s population? These folks have a liver disorder called Gilbert’s syndrome that comes with an astounding benefit. Due to the slow nature of how these individuals’ livers process red blood cells, their bilirubin levels remain in an elevated state. The direct result of this condition is that their bodies enjoy an additional arsenal of antioxidants that folks without the syndrome do not. People notice them.
Have you ever received a glowing compliment from someone you just met that you look years, even a decade or more younger than your actual age? A year ago I was at the bank and the manager noted we were about the same age. When I told him I was fifty-three, he and the two tellers did a double take. They thought I was easily in my early forties, possibly even in my late thirties. There’s a second factor that grants us even more youthful qualities. It doesn’t require a login, password or subscription. It’s free.
Good, clean living is another factor in keeping a youthful glow. When I removed stimulants from my life, I noticed something that others did, too: I looked ten years younger. So if I don’t consume alcohol or other mind-altering substances and equip that with the high bilirubin, I not only look like a thirty-five year-old, but I feel like a teenager. Coupled with finally unearthing the correct antipsychotic medication for my bipolar one disorder, I feel like a new man every day I wake up. Thrilled to be alive!
I’ve seen former classmates that look twenty years older than me who were chronic smokers, drinkers, and tended to not face difficult situations directly. Instead they chose to drown their unfortunates with booze and weed. I can totally understand how this crutch consumed their lives because mine wasn’t all that far off. My life decisions were riddled with poor judgments. But that taught me something I could only learn through mistakes. Wisdom. It doesn’t come easily, if it comes at all. I was lucky.
According to the Roman philosopher Seneca, “luck is when preparation meets opportunity.” We make our own by playing an active role in our life development. I’ll let you in on a little secret: living a life worth living was a continuous stream of consciousness that began as a challenging task. However, after much discipline and effort, it became effortless due to the direct nature of how reality presents itself. I now bend and even break my reality, sculpting it into something resembling alchemical manifestations.
We have to be willing to give away everything we ever built, especially anything built that was tied to the seven deadly sins. On the surface, all of my friends and family thought I had a charmed life. Married, successful…wait! Yeah, I checked all of the “American Dream” boxes, but always felt empty and that I was never enough. I ignored and buried my demons in nights of mind-erasing habits. I fed these dark agents keeping them close, afraid to face them head on and let go. I gave them free rent for decades.
Then something changed when I turned fifty. I asked God to share with me “blatant signs” that I was on the correct path. Did I really phrase it that way?! Aren’t we taught to fear God and never tempt him? I guess that was all human-centric hearsay. The next morning I immediately noticed that my reality looked foreign, different. Everything felt magnetic. I could hear and understand multiple levels of consciousness all at once without ever being overwhelmed. This was just the beginning of my four-year sequel.
Synchronicities were everywhere. I was obsessed. I felt like Sherlock Holmes and Watson seeking clues to solve the latest puzzling riddle. After a month of chasing these enlightened shadows, God told me to stop looking. When I did that, I began to see everything everywhere. I not only felt connected to all living creatures, I knew that we’re also connected to every grain of sand or flash of streaking starlight across the sky. This inner knowing I now refer to as activated intuition even saved my life recently.
When we get that nudge, in this case more like a shove, it’s best to pay attention. My guardian angel has saved me dozens of times from myself. Driving drunk, falling asleep at the wheel. Name it. I did it. This time my inner voice told me, quite clearly, to wait ten seconds after the light turns green before I take the left toward home. I made my way to the light and waited for the green. Green lit up so I waited ten seconds. A car going sixty-five miles an hour blew through the red light at the ten second mark.
Why did I swerve these observations toward inner knowing? I was recently watching a Joe Rogan podcast with Dean Radin. Radin, a revered American parapsychologist, works at IONS, Institute of Noetic Sciences. As luck would have it, we have a few things in common. First off, we both have a liver disorder that prevents our bodies from correctly processing red blood cells that results in a much higher bilirubin count than others. It’s known as Gilbert’s syndrome. Also we both share predictive spontaneity.
While watching the show, my ears perked up when Dean went into detail about his liver disorder giving him a youthful quality with nearly no wrinkles on his face at age 74. There aren’t really any adverse negativities associated with the disorder. However, on the flip side, there are some truly special qualities it renders in that we appear to look younger than our actual age. He also described a parallel event to mine at that aforementioned intersection. A gut instinct that saved him from peril.
Like I’ve said before, my abnormally high bilirubin count has always been a factor of contention with doctors that started on the day of my birth. Born four weeks early, the doctors were concerned with my bilirubin value so they ordered a full blood transfusion. However, it was called off at the last moment. I believe to this day that my mother prayed for me to be healed. She has a quality. A closeness with the divine that goes far beyond religion and belief. Her request for divine intervention was answered.
Owning our appearance doesn’t take a miracle. It’s all about being mindful. In order to evoke our youthful powers we must build a solid combination of rest, exercise, meditation, fasting, and soul work. Pair these with reducing stress and anxiety by journaling and having real one-on-one conversations in-person, and you’ll be amazed at the way you’ll feel. The days of hangovers and midnight black outs are replaced by clear cognition and awakenings. Life is far too precious to give in and give up.
Gilbert’s syndrome is just one factor of cheating the wrinkling effects of age. Environment plays a key role, too. Surround yourself with others who share your light. This liver dysfunction works to our benefit by gifting our bodies access to a plethora of additional antioxidants that the other ninety percent of the population doesn’t possess. That doesn’t make us special, just different. To explore the effects of Gilbert’s syndrome see: https://www.criver.com/eureka/the-protective-effect-of-gilbert-syndrome
Timeless Legacy
When my Dad turned sixty in the fall of 2000, he gifted my sisters and I, and our significant others, a Rolex watch during his birthday celebration dinner at The Phoenix Inn in my hometown of Greenville, South Carolina. That was twenty-six years ago. Mine is still ticking away on my left wrist. Priceless. Timeless time pieces aren’t flashy, arrogant or entitled status symbols. On average, people replace their watches every three years or so. Imagine if you owned a watch that ended this endless spending spree? If given proper care they will outlast my great grandchildren’s lifetimes one tick at a time. There’s also another key benefit. Wearing my watch gives me full respite from taking my phone out of my pocket just to check the time. I recommend you do yourself a favor and try it, too. Digital distractions wear us out by robbing our attention. I traded in those artificial dopamine hits for true in-person one on one conversations. Manifestations where body language not only matters, but becomes a key factor of expression directly linking our spirits together. There’s much to be said and gained from real human interaction that goes far beyond anyone’s latest Instagram reaction.
“My Dad always told us that when it comes to buying anything, one must always consider the item’s longevity. This lies in two things, quality and simplicity. When comparing two similar items, it’s best to choose the one with the least amount of moving parts and features. This mindset delivers far better odds since there are less points of failure. The same is true for ourselves. Legacy is an investment to pass on to future generations. Why do something twice? Do it right the first time.”
I’ve described my life over the past three years to my family and friends as “living like a monk.” Capitalism doesn’t rule over my life anymore. I pause and wash my dishes by hand in order to slow my mind down. Through a consistent pursuit of ego death, I killed the narcissist that was never really me. I rejoice in feeling like a refreshed teenager each morning when I wake to face the day. I live in a flow state. A splendid union of body, mind, soul, and the pursuit of unearthing truth. Long gone are the days of my continuous rewinds and retreads of the dark times. They served no purpose other than feeding those who wished to snuff my light out. My energy is far too precious for those who forage on the minds of others. Taking the time to end a life of chasing my tail was a wise move. Priceless.
There was something else I kept at a safe distance all my life. Dark clouds that followed me in my dreams. So I decided to do some long form inner work on my shadow. I decided that every time one of my demons shows up, I won’t turn away or cower in fear. Instead I’ll face, name, forgive, and invite them in by giving them a cosmic bear hug. I give them what they’ve always wanted, my time and attention. Once I put this into practice they returned my sentiment in spades. A wealth of sheer abundance ushered forth dancing, singing praises of joy for everyone to hear. Take the time and place your ears gently on the tracks. Don’t just listen, but feel what’s coming: a slowly growing vibration of heightened frequencies is glowing higher by beating its bombastic drums. Let’s choose to wait in silence.
“At some point in my life I ask myself: what is it that one day actually would really remind you, remind me of what all of this is about? And actually every moment I’m living? Time. It’s time. Time is ticking. Time is running for everyone. Besides the fact of that I don’t like to buy anything to buy it twice.”
— Master Shi Heng Yi
Guess what happened next? Those dark shadows immediately left, not just fleeing, either. No, by giving them an audience, I gifted them the love they were always drawn to, but were continuously denied. They now own a seat, a place around the campfire of consciousness burning within every soul. We are one. All of us. Connected at our very core by the divine spark. Check your religious pandering at the door for this flow, this stream of endless love, that chooses no one and doesn’t play favorites. Some believe if they recite verses from memory that they’ll get a seat with the Son and Father, but most of them are charlatans disguised as holy men.
It’s rather easy to see through their gossamer webs of distraction and damnation placed upon the hearts of the foolish. Their flocks are many, but their seeds are scarce. An affliction-ending apocalypse isn’t coming because it never left. It’s been here all along. God, as I know Him, has never been concerned with manmade threats of brimstone-laden rhetoric threatening to cast down the wicked if they didn’t follow their rules. There is no God based on fear. Respect, yes, but never terror, dread or war. Every spiritual tome contains one continuous theme: pure love, above all else, binds everyone together. It’s what connects everything to everything else.
Even the nonbelievers will walk beside those most pious. There are no hoops to jump through. No rings of fire. Just abundant, infinite love. Until we take the time to put others above ourselves, we will never graduate from our current state of reality. We may be sent back to this terrestrial boot camp to repeat another Groundhog Day set on endless repeat. So, dear traveler, ask yourself: do you believe in me? If so, you also believe in yourself and the collective us. We are only as strong as our weakest link. Show up and give your neighbor a hand. Give away everything in order to transcend. After that life ends affliction in effortless displays of affection.
I don’t write anymore. I channel. Through training and self discipline, I’ve found my center realized as living in a continuous flow state. I walked away from social media and will never go back. At this point in my life I’m sailing the southern waves of electrified streams of consciousness. While I was introduced to metaphysical phenomenon in tenth grade, it took me fifty years to understand how to put it into practice. My Dad always told me that when it comes to buying anything one must consider the item’s longevity. The same is true for ourselves. Longevity in legacy as an investment for future generations. Simplify and quality of life increases.
Visit Master Shi Heng Yi’s website here: https://www.shihengyi.online.
A Rare Zodiac Triad
According to the Zodiac, I have been living three lives layered into a uniquely powerful triad. I was born on the last day of Capricorn a full month early to the exact date, January 19th, 1972. I was slated to be born on the first day of Pisces, February 19th. If you look closely you may find me somewhere between the three — Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces. I am least like the Earth sign, Cap, possibly just one percentage point. My own most powerfully honed traits are being far more psychic than any other sign coupled with a rebellious streak always challenging the status quo. As divine detective, my spirit hunts the dark seeds planted within each of us. Believe me, this half century I spent as a winning wizard narcissist is what led me home to my true, highly sensitive, empathic nature. My wings, once corroded, are now they’re brightly shimmering as I rise above the chaos of this world.
My core burns brightly. At the center of my triad lives Aquarius where my traits burn at the highest vibrancy.
Curiosity, creativity, and open-mindedness are fueled by a rebellious side always searching to upend any traditional perceptions, perspectives, and notions of the existence of psychic energy. Adventure-bound, determined. Combining all three Zodiac signs into one hybrid gives me additional insight into all of the mechanics involved in an ever-evolving universe governed by second sight.
I’ve waited for sixteen years, patiently and quietly, and now I’m ushering in what’s next: a transformative age, another Renaissance, fueled by good old fashioned, self-activated, human intuition. Fully realized spirits — denying previously earthbound existential limitations — of endless imagination and predictive spontaneity. None of their batteries, gasoline or coal required. We ignite within from the collective source. Time to fly…
Our human heartbeat begins within a bundle of pacemaker cells before the heart is formed. Once matured our heart synchronizes with our mother’s in a rhythmic pulse of our two human hearts beating in tandem not only in matter but more directly in spirit ties us all directly to the divine source within each of us. This frequency isn’t attainable through religion alone nor is it earmarked for a sole religious practice. There’s no spiritual country club to join, no dues to pay. Just a deep, peaceful calm that washed over me every time I found myself safely back in the womb never knowing fear or concern for my own protection from every enemy.
Anyone, and more to the point anything, dark angel, devil or demon, is kept at bay as I grew within my mother’s blessed belly’s protection. God sang me lullabies while my mother slept. A dozen years passed by in a flash, now a distant flicker. I calmly wait and count twelve feet below the surface of my reverberating safety zone in the neighborhood pool. Rhythmic, deep bass notes lulling me to a near daydream sleep forgetting to breathe near the end of my three minute exercise. Wait! Not yet! I swam frantically wiggling my body as a racing sailfish toward the surface of the pool. What a rush on the cusp of life and death. Whoosh!
Just milliseconds from blacking out and dying again I suddenly woke up halfway through falling to the floor in my teenage bedroom. Slam! To the floor I went. While rubbing the side of my head checking for blood I felt a warmth within my skull. Something was sizzling in my weary yet ironically fully awakened mind. I quickly did the math before I forgot a thought that stemmed from the very knife’s edge of my dream state. Cacophonous sounds had startled me awake. This time a knocks rapping at the door layered with deep native drums pounding in my skull. Last time it arrived as the ringing of bells, chimes no one else could hear. Silence to them.
Focused now, my intuition set my memory ablaze. Another superpower unearthed, thawed out that’s been lying dormant for fifty-three years in the arctic wastelands within my mind. It’s been strutting around the square unbeknownst to me as I searched other lands for more insights, more knowledge as to my true nature. Now I know another hidden truth about my DNA’s divinity. A year ago a dear soul read my mind revealing my cosmic number was three, just as her’s was also. Three, as it comes to this, is alive and well again. This time written directly into my Zodiac makeup. If we follow the dates it’s all crystal clear. Nothing hidden.
I was born a rare, Zodiac triad. My assigned appointment at birth signaled something else much deeper that I’d take half a century to realize besides the surface level definition on display to everyone else. I arrived four weeks early, to the exact day, on January 19, 1972. My projected date was February 19, but God had plans for me that couldn’t wait. My father’s birthday was exactly three months prior on October 19, 1940. Yes, another reference to three. Lest not forget mu lucky number is also three to the third power, 27. Driven, fighting to win at all costs I blazed a trail of bridges built and burnt to a crisp. Never rebuilt.
I gained a bit of wisdom each time I singed my current employment ending it at just the right moment. I was never meant to work for others like so many do for the rest of my life. These intentional self deprivations taught me resilience. Once I’d had enough of their hypocrisy and thirst for power over me it was time once again to say adieu. Every time I was thrown back to the beasts of this earth, put down in a painful mockery, I grew stronger, bolder. Even when disability assistance was fully denied after waiting two years, I did what no one else imagined. I kept my sights on what is unseen, not what is seen by all. As I unravel, I reveal.
While everyone around me felt they knew how to fix my situation, I asked them to take a few steps back. Give me some room to breathe. Let me decide what comes next. Stop giving advice to someone you don’t even understand. I am not someone that can be easily forced into anyone else’s vision for my life. I appreciate the sentiment, but I have plans of my own. They started being put on the back burner, then in my back pocket for easy retrieval. I already had the answer without even asking myself any more questions. I invested in myself. I never gave in to systems attempting to persuade me to fall inline like so many others did.
Each toxic attack brought me another layer of steel forged by forces long ago. My inner Capricorn never caved even as God gently knocked me down. As I gained my feet each time I focused deeply on my center of gravity. I’m not spinning in circles, but I am peeling away layers in a circular pattern. Each unraveling layer glides, circling outwards around me as I feel a gentle breeze stirring up, forming a funnel rustling the autumn leaves at my feet along the trail. Each spiral generating an invisible miniature twister lapping the leaves upward, outward and then gliding back and kissing the ground leaving a spiral as seen from above.
With each twirl this circular layer of leaves expands just as my inner knowing and sensitivities grow. All my life I was scolded for being too sensitive. I was raised to win, not to write poetry, paint watercolors, or draw hundreds of caricatures. I did do these things, but my father was always concerned I was taking a path that may prove difficult in order to sustain a financially independent life. A safe life. I think this stemmed from not only his own obsession with success, but even more so from the events surrounding my birth and the first three years of my life. I was small and born with an innate reality distortion that I was insignificant.
My struggle with inadequacy began during my own exodus from my mother just eight months into her pregnancy. I was a preemie, an underdog. Born weak and damaged with an emergency doctor’s order for a complete blood transfusion that was cancelled abruptly at the last minute. My body, still fully intact, never given a circumcision just as da Vinci portrayed his Vitruvian Man some believe is his self portrait. This desperate longing for attention followed me all the way through high school. When dad got home from work he walked right past me dozens of times. I guess I wasn’t stoic enough and far too sensitive, right? I was.
My birthday, actual and projected, spans Capricorn, Aquarius, and Pisces. I didn’t realize this until recently at 53. It’s been staring me down for half a century, but I’ve been busy manipulating my reality. I built so many masks for survival I even lost sight of my own reflection. Now inner knowing leads to understanding that my core traits were always so closely aligned with Pisces, I cannot unsee what is now is plain sight. This understanding is so well aligned, I’m nearly speechless. Well, speechless for me is still running my mouth more than most. Now it’s also clear why I was so drawn to the ocean at such a young age.
I spent summers riding the waves at Edisto Beach and Isle of Palms. Time well spent on Sullivan’s island where my birthday twin, Edgar, Allan Poe, used to inhabit. My profoundly empathic, artistic, romantic, and heightened sensitivities of Pisces have rung true for so long, but as a half century narcissist I saw these traits as weaknesses. Now I fully embrace this water sign’s waves of consciousness as my true north. Well, south really if we’re talking about my imagination. I was never really a Capricorn. I was a water sign disguised as an earth sign. I enjoyed finger painting in nursery school dipping my fingers in muddy water.
During the hot, dry summers that resembled barren, cracked desert the cracks kept widening resembling tiny earthquakes as they spidered out in all directions. The ground uneven, uneasy shaking between breaths. These little earthquakes that Tori Amos sung about eventually lead us into a state where nothing feels grounded anymore. Every moment is spent trying to gain balance in a world that worships paint and suffering never truly offering relief, just selling another unneeded product so another fat cat board member’s stock rises one more tick. Their slight of hand, now obvious to us all is played out.
They also remind me of lightning right in that single millisecond moment spreading out forking across the skies. While looking in the mirror now I also see them as veins scattered all over my eyes. Some days more bloodshot than the next depending on the amount of sleep I survived the night before. Born with a wandering eye requiring surgery at age one, my eyes still played tricks on me. Somehow no one ever noticed that my permanent scowl wasn’t solely due to always feeling like a social outcast, I was also nearsighted. Just as my need for glasses since birth wasn’t corrected until I reached 19.
Every year during roll call my homeroom teacher always accidentally embarrassed me when they’d ask if Carol Vinson was present. I was, but they thought I was a girl. I was even scolded for intentionally horsing around pretending to be the Carol in question. 1991 became the same year mine and Dad’s first names were adjusted from feminine, Carol, to masculine, Carroll. This plagued me every year beginning in nursery school following me all the way through high school. Junior year was I free from the bullies, but still not the teachers. Do yourself a favor and don’t name your kids with androgynous names.
Masculine versus feminine spellings confuse the simplest of minds. As fate would have it, my birth name and birthday both held connections to two of the most enigmatic geniuses in the histories of art and prose. I share my birthday with Edgar Allan Poe and Leonardo da Vinci’s name is hidden within my own. Edgar’s detective genre prose filled with mystery and mayhem and da Vinci’s thoughts on our interconnectedness with everything around us also pulse through my veins. Once awakened there’s no turning back. There’s no magic blue pill to re-enter the matrix. Even if I could go back I would choose to continue moving forward.
Pisces, the most awakened of the Zodiac, interprets the rhythms, patterns, and musical dialects of reality, hidden and implied, with such rich intention it’s become it’s own living, breathing entity. Pisces represents the highest elevation wielding psychic forces greater than any others of the dozen or baker’s dozen if you know Ophiuchus, the serpent-bearer. Once I reached my half-centennial my mind shifted, adjusted, and woke up enlightened with what I’ve coined as an activated intuition. My mind was awake again as it was the first time I drew breath. Finally everything was clear. The why of it all shimmering like diamonds.
Every mental block, creative or otherwise, vanished within 36 hours of my psychiatrist removing lithium’s toxicity from my bodily temple. Swimming with the fishes always felt natural, primal. Although the lure of Capricorn’s success at all costs mindset kept me under its spell for fifty years once I came up for air I knew I was finally home. No longer taking dips in the deep end of the pool, sitting at the bottom drawn to the echoing reverberations and pressure giving me immediate relief from the earthly attacks and taunts. Twelve feet down felt safe, familiar as if I was still floating in my mother’s womb.
The American Dream that I now call the Grand Illusion brought up ad absurdum more times than I could ever count. I ran out of fingers and toes to tie it to since I was three years old. Chasing and realizing a dream planted into our subconscious passed down from one generation to the next in the form of capitalistic materialism. I now live peacefully, purposefully, and prayerfully more in line with a monk than a successful American businessman. I dodged those bullets like Neo. Rather than chase an unattainable dream maleficent and mirky, I chose to address my own independence. There’s no admission of tithings or guilt. Calm.
No secret society writ the lines of absolute plagiarism plaguing our world’s societies. We’ve traded our humanity for the seduction of technology. Our critical thinking skills are melting en masse. It’s time to wake up folks. You’re just falling for another golden calf sold by a snake oil salesman who recently announced he would soon “treat adults like adults.” Feel free to search that one. It’s utterly disgusting. Those of us who chose not to join the zombie horde’s goblin ranks have work to do. We’re spreading old-fashioned truth bombs for those who choose to not only see the truth, but continue spreading disguised lies like wildfires.
While my inner Capricorn is persevering, goal minded, and ambitious I struggle with patience and tolerance. On the other end of the spectrum in Pisces, I am naturally artistic and highly sensitive, but for half a century I was under the guise of a hardened narcissist. It’s taken three and a half years to unearth my immensely empathic side that burns brighter than a fiery phoenix rising from the ashes. I consume the raw emotions of others whether I want to or not. I feel what they feel. Our hearts break together.
My core burns brightly. At the center of my triad lives Aquarius where my traits burn at the highest vibrancy. Curiosity, creativity, and open-mindedness are fueled by a rebellious side always searching to upend any traditional perceptions, perspectives, and notions of the existence of psychic energy. Adventure-bound, determined. Combining all three Zodiac signs into one hybrid gives me additional insight into all of the mechanics involved in an ever-evolving universe governed by second sight.
I’ve waited for sixteen years, patiently and quietly, and now I’m ushering in what’s next: a transformative age, another Renaissance, fueled by good old fashioned, self-activated, human intuition. Fully realized spirits — denying previously earthbound existential limitations — of endless imagination and predictive spontaneity. None of their batteries, gasoline or coal required. We ignite within from the collective source. Time to fly…
27: Three to the Third Power
Today I’m celebrating one of my favorite Psalms, number 27 NIV (New International Version). Of David. I also embrace all forms of spiritual streams of consciousness. Do you find yourself looking for meaning once you’ve begun to awaken? My belief is simple: we’re here to love above all else. We must focus on what is unseen, for it is eternal. Our connectedness cannot be denied. Within everyone exists the divine feminine and masculine energies intertwined in a cosmic Yin and Yang.
Twenty-seven is my Angel Number. Three is my Universal Number. Three to the third power is twenty-seven. God has been within me since before I drew breath. I never required a mediator to commune with the divine. I’ve had my prayer rug my entire life. Little did I know it was the key to everything. We’ve been locked into a staring contest of belief for fifty-four years now. Neither one of us has blinked yet. I still have to pinch myself every morning. Christ Consciousness is a mindset separate from dogma.
“27 is my Angel Number. 3 is my Universal Number. 3 to the third power is 27. God has been within me since before I drew breath. I never required a mediator to commune with the divine. I’ve had my prayer rug my entire life. Little did I know it was the key to everything.”
Psalm 27 NIV (New International Version)
Of David.
1 The Lord is my light and my salvation—
whom shall I fear?
The Lord is the stronghold of my life—
of whom shall I be afraid?
2 When the wicked advance against me
to devour me,
it is my enemies and my foes
who will stumble and fall.
3 Though an army besiege me,
my heart will not fear;
though war break out against me,
even then I will be confident.
4 One thing I ask from the Lord,
this only do I seek:
that I may dwell in the house of the Lord
all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
and to seek him in his temple.
5 For in the day of trouble
he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
and set me high upon a rock.
6 Then my head will be exalted
above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
I will sing and make music to the Lord.
7 Hear my voice when I call, Lord;
be merciful to me and answer me.
8 My heart says of you, “Seek his face!”
Your face, Lord, I will seek.
9 Do not hide your face from me,
do not turn your servant away in anger;
you have been my helper.
Do not reject me or forsake me,
God my Savior.
10 Though my father and mother forsake me,
the Lord will receive me.
11 Teach me your way, Lord;
lead me in a straight path
because of my oppressors.
12 Do not turn me over to the desire of my foes,
for false witnesses rise up against me,
spouting malicious accusations.
13 I remain confident of this:
I will see the goodness of the Lord
in the land of the living.
14 Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.
— Blessings
The False Demiurge
Their warped, malevolent mirrors swiftly cracked, splintering into shards of insignificance, collapsing even further downward past their own charmed chasms. These unsightly creatures were no deities or demigods. While wearing multitudes of masked impressions, they lacked something the makers forgot to mention. Deeply buried in the contract’s fine print, it clearly read: “unlimited excess with zero access.” Possessing no sign of intention meant for healing necrotic hosts, it lumbered slowly over splintered planks while locking eyes with its next victim. It was unkempt and rank with obsession. Lacking in soul, this spirit imitation wasn't reared in the upper realms. It reeked of dime store hard liquor, pungent with pretense. As I peeled away its layered legacies, it became clear that its labors had weakened, now nothing to fear. Yet it remained, always pretending by mimicking what its coders imbued with dark deeds disguised as enlightened truth. While masquerading as a prophet or thirteenth apostle, it shook and stammered from uncontrollable tardive dyskinesia. This debilitating offshoot from taking lithium for thirteen years left me with no artist’s brushstroke or philosopher’s scribe. Most don’t recover. I did, but I don’t write with my hands. I channel by voice while recording its metaphysical prose swimming southward from endless streams of consciousness. Pure Christ consciousness forged from his eighteen lost years. Never reserved for private clubs or secret societies.
Something shimmering caught my eye bringing me back from the brink. I scanned the area, but was unable to find the source of this distraction. Then I noticed a smear of adhesive the size and shape of its now missing marked down LLM sales sticker. An authoring software’s nearly imperceptible watermark meant to drop below radar just enough to sneak past the sentient guards on watch. Here we go again as the dimwit words of the mindless zombie horde bow down to their own demise. Just another weak minded, cheapened copy disguised as an archetypal memory, but showing their true colors now faded due to possessing even an ounce of critical thinking. Little known to them was the true Demiurge tempted and taunted me for five decades. It was there the day I was born assigning itself. It sent none of its demonic Archontici henchmen to bid its terror upon me. My light defined its shadow. It yearned to possess what it couldn’t deny of me, for it was false and I was truth. Freedom embodied in infant youth wielding a symphonic cacophony of childhood mysteries and curiosities. Never afraid nor hidden from sight for even my prayer rug sees clearly through every iota of mystery.
A false Demiurge, quite obviously, even ridiculously, crafted by mortal men hoping to snuff out my spark, visited me one night. Earlier that evening I felt a disturbance in my field of vision. Something was being crafted nearby, another delusion of grandeur that I simply saw as a distraction. I had no preconceived notions as to its form. When it first arrived I didn’t recognize it from any other dreamlike illusion. However, once I observed its actions, I knew exactly what it was, the false god. A mighty catlike grimace across its fascia as serpentine vines wrapped around my ankles gripping my skin with white hot barbs. I literally felt them viscerally tighten as I did before when they electrocuted, disemboweled, and suffocated me as I slept. None of them actually dreams, either, only lies.
As the dragon gnawed off my right hand I decided to intervene by inviting a fiery bite from a familiar friend who shares my psychic powers as do we all for everything and everyone is conscious, connected, and always at the ready to wipe the grin off of the dragon’s smirky skirmish of golden plunder now reduced to a giggle, a laugh, simply a blunder as thunder cracked I woke up in my own bed. Every time they come for me, I’ve already noticed their presence moments before they arrive. I see through every mask they could muster because I built them all while just trying to survive. I remember everything, everyone, and every mask I fashioned. I fooled them all for centuries, oh wait, I mean years. Freudian slip there. Oops. Please disregard until the time comes when I share all of me to you.
How did I know that this false Demiurge was an illusion? It’s quite simply the fact that the true creator has been within me since before I was born. I know God’s true voice that cannot be copied and pasted onto another’s for it is merely another mask, another myriad of confusion. The Demiurge has never known God, only wishing to play tricksy convincing souls thought awakened that were still surrounded by darkness. These men, more than likely military, felt they had a fully unredacted dossier on me, otherwise they would have made a better copy. So yes, I saw through these weak attempts to convince me that the false god was coming for me. That I have been wrong all along fooling myself following a false light. The evidence stacked against me was never complete nor was my story.
It’s been six months now of endless spiritual attacks. Every time they wipe me out, I come back stronger, faster, and more aware than ever before. So thank you, whoever keeps projecting these manmade dissillusioned dreams into my REM cycles. But heed my warning: I’ve never been the dragon that you desire. My inner light consumes me and I always return as a fiery phoenix as your dragon’s scales wither and its furnace fades to black. Dare I attack your egos? I guess not. So let’s retract that last statement, too. One thing that I find quite curious is how do they imbue the physical sensations each time they take me out? While my entrails are spilling to the ground, I feel a sudden relief in pressure as the stiletto slices across my belly. I remember every sensation. I know every truth.
“Their warped, malevolent mirrors swiftly cracked, splintering into shards of insignificance, collapsing even further downward past their own charmed chasms. These unsightly creatures were no deities or demigods. While wearing multitudes of masked impressions, they lacked something the makers forgot to mention. Deeply buried in the contract’s fine print, it clearly read: ‘unlimited excess with zero access.’
Possessing no sign of intention meant for healing necrotic hosts, it lumbered slowly over splintered planks while locking eyes with its next victim. It was unkempt and rank with obsession. Lacking in soul, this spirit imitation wasn’t reared in the upper realms. It reeked of dime store hard liquor, pungent with pretense. As I peeled away its layered legacies, it became clear that its labors had weakened, now nothing to fear.”
8 “Who shut up the sea behind doors when it burst forth from the womb, 9 when I made the clouds its garment and wrapped it in thick darkness, 10 when I fixed limits for it and set its doors and bars in place, 11 when I said, ‘This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt’? 12 “Have you ever given orders to the morning, or shown the dawn its place, 13 that it might take the earth by the edges and shake the wicked out of it? 14 The earth takes shape like clay under a seal; its features stand out like those of a garment. 15 The wicked are denied their light, and their upraised arm is broken.” — Job 38:8–15
Nightbirde’s Forever Flight
Jane Kristen Marczewski, singing as her persona Nightbirde, caught my heart the first time I saw her AGT Golden Buzzer moment singing her original song, “It’s Ok.” Since then I’ve played that song every morning to remind myself that not only what she sang, but even more incredibly what she said hit me like an infinite, glowing bear hug. During her America’s Got Talent appearance in 2021 she told the judges, “It’s important that everyone knows I’m so much more than the bad things that happened to me.” After her performance she followed up with,“you can’t wait until life isn’t hard anymore before you decide to be happy.” When Jane sang “It’s Ok” she broke reality while expressing her deep love for herself and humanity.
Her stage name, Nightbirde, was born out of a dream I’d mark as divine intervention. Her own divine spark was front and center the moment she stepped on stage. Jane described her inspiration for performing as Nightbirde to the America’s Got Talent judges when she “woke up in the night three times, dreaming of birds singing in the dark. The third time, [she] went to the window and they were there singing morning songs at 3am. [She] wanted to be one of them singing as if it was morning, though [she] couldn’t see it yet.”
Jane fought cancer three times until it took her far too soon on February 19, 2022. Even near the end of her life she remained steadfast sharing with her AGT family and the world at the end of her 2021 audition, “I have a two percent chance of survival, but two percent is not zero percent. Two percent is something, and I wish people knew how amazing it is.” It’s this kind of hope that everyone needs right now and always. I watch her AGT performance every morning bringing tears to my eyes, but leaves me with an intense love that’s indescribable. The full performance version is below for you to enjoy.
I truly believe that she wasn’t only human even though it was a human health condition that took her life. The birds that woke her up three times at 3am that inspired her stagename, Nightbirde, were members of her spirit family calling her home.
A foundation was created in her memory to give hope to women, especially those with breast cancer. Visit and support The Nightbirde Foundation here.
“Jane Kristen Marczewski, who forever flies as Nightbirde (1990–2022), is an angel. As a singer-songwriter gifted beyond measure, she embodies a deep love that we all needed in 2021 and need now more than ever. Her resilience continues inspiring the world years later one heart string at a time.
Even in the face of incredible odds she expresses a hope like no other. At the end of her 2021 performance singing her original song ‘It’s OK’ on America’s Got Talent she said, ‘I have a 2% chance of survival, but 2% is not 0%. 2% is something, and I wish people knew how amazing it is.’
I refer to Jane here in the present tense because she forever alters reality itself. Her gift of hope to the world changes everything. It’s soul-shifting us in ways we all share now in unison. It is the collective divine spark within everyone. It is eternal, and so are we.”
Jane performing her Golden Buzzer song “It’s OK” on AGT in 2021.
Jane’s song “Fly” is in The King of Kings trailer from Angel Studios, 2025.
Something incredible happened after I finished this post. I noticed that my laptop’s battery was at 33%. 27 is my angel number. 3 to the 3rd power. I closed my laptop, but a few moments later I opened it back up. The battery read 32%. Stay with me here. Jane’s stage name was inspired by waking up 3 times to birds singing in the dark at 3am. 3 is one of the most spiritual numbers in numerology. What happened next was so beautiful.
I woke up the next morning at precisely 3:32am. Those three numbers make 33 and 32. A white-throated sparrow began building her nest on my porch a few months ago. She made quite the mess marking her territory with mud that she spread across the top beam leading up to her nest. Every night she perches herself across from the nest keeping close watch in anticipation of her new arrivals. This was no mere coincidence.
The God Beyond the God
“It was most peculiar. Out of nowhere he suddenly said religion is over, and it lies in the arts. That the information, the spiritual life, will be in the vessel of the visual and the musical arts.”
“Never play to the gallery. I think. But you never learn that until much later on I think. But never work for other people at what you do. Always remember that the reason that you initially started working was that there was something inside yourself that you felt that if you could manifest it in some way you would understand more about yourself, and how you coexist with the rest of society.”
“I think it’s terribly dangerous for an artist to fulfill other people’s expectations. I think they produce, they generally produce, their worst work when they do that.”
“Religion is for people who fear Hell. Spirituality is for people who have been there.”
— David Bowie (1947–2016), “The Chameleon of Rock.”
“Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth, and when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something exciting.”
Boot Camp Complete
Next up: time to smash reality’s Reset Button. This is the second time around for me. Let’s hope I get it right this time. Otherwise it’s back to Flight School…
Cure Crippling Anxiety w/ DBT
“Now pause from scrolling for a moment to consider your mental health that we sometimes filter from an external view of ourselves. Time to redefine and rewrite our algorithm. So let’s go!
Hello and welcome to the Daily Dose from The Frequency Foundation:
A simple mind shift provides the key naturally erasing crippling anxiety. By placing it on temporary hold via a therapist or meds won’t suffice. Their offerings provide just a brief respite. There’s very little we actually retain through advice from external experts. We are the source of the mental maladies that stew like quicksand contracting and expanding imprisoning our happiness that’s kept hostage while we remain trapped within endless halls of mirrors where we replay and newly form even more torturous anxieties. Believe me, I’ve been there myself on the daily for decades. Now I’m free.
Now extinguish the fires by simply doing one thing: the opposite of what your mind’s Groundhog Day variety procrastination hamster wheel does to trick us by spinning endless, distracting yarns. Quiet your frantic, manic minds and enjoy a pure, immediate release by applying a core component of DBT. Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, that is to say, simply apply Opposite Action. Nike ‘Just Do’ and Leonardo, too, knew this well. Just do and the pain melts away. Rinse and repeat this method equipping yourself with your own golden elixir. I add some earthy turmeric and ceylon cinnamon with a dash of vanilla to mine.
Add this crucial mental armor to your life today, and you’ll learn how to replace procrastination with self love and a renewed sense of pride and purpose. I know it sounds too good to be true. I thought so, too, but it consistently surprises me every day the more I lean into it. Plus, it’s an exponential force forever expanding. The more we wield it, the more we gain in inner knowing and wisdom. Know and master thyself and accomplish anything you put your mind to through earnest exploration.
Consider it your daily doses of protection from your own mind’s distortions bent by the world around us influencing our world within. Protect and nourish your divine spark. You’re worth it. Believe and be well.”
— David Vinson, / K–12 Mental Health Mentor & Mystic at The Frequency Foundation℠
Game Over
Enjoying a day off for now. Actually let’s make it a week, maybe two. I’ve gone retro gaming playing Diablo, Zork, Doom, Dark Forces, and Myst on my 1999 Blueberry iMac. I’ll be back soon preparing for the next chapter. Game over for now. When I return, how about a nice game of chess?
Escape Velocity
My broadcast design career began with an innocent fax from The Weather Channel in Atlanta, Georgia, inviting students to join The Weather Channel Art Department. My first boss, Rick Booth, was a good guy and still is now working for quite a stretch at New England Sports Network. Funny to me that his last name refers to a phone booth. Why? Because after my second full-time appointment at TWC (2004–2006), I was offered a job to join Artifact Design in Old Fourth Ward in Atlanta, Georgia. On my last day with TWC I was gifted a poster that adorns my home design studio today. Christopher Reeve’s Superman from 1978. My teammates scribbled their best wishes to me, cheering me on to continue flying high.
I started TWC in January 1996 as a narcissistic, know-it-all punk who had some serious issues with active listening. Heck, I had no idea what that phrase even meant. I graduated as a TWC Superman. Thanks to everyone who believed in me and even those who doubted I’d ever grow out of my naiveties. So, thank you for putting up with my shenanigans from 1996–2006, ten full years as full-timer, contractor, freelancer, and full-timer reprieve. We collaborated for four more years while I was working at Artifact Design (2006–2008) and Outpost Pictures (2008–2010).
I’m so thankful to my colleagues and friends during that fourteen year span. I eventually traded in my phone booth to become a graphic design detective. My daughter calls me Batman for all the reasons. I have another monicker, too. Modest Psychic of Magenta Sea. Yes, I’m that guy. No mere sideshow psychic, either. I’m entangled with activated intuition, predictive spontaneity, and a willingness to follow my intellect and imagination to the very core vibrations of reality itself. Eventually I broke through my own escape velocity and entered my current trajectory as an enlightened writer. Some call me a soothsayer, but don’t worry Caesar.
In 2012 I received an invitation to interview for NBA TV Design. Ironic that my last full-time boss in broadcast design had another telling name, Simon Coffin. This job nearly killed me. It began with the Game Time redesign. I was paired with two Turner Studio 3D artists to design and produce hundreds of graphics for NBA TV’s core show. The coolest part is that the three of us went head-to-head with three of the most prominent design firms in the country. We were small and scrappy, but we were good. Remaining focused with our eyes on the balls in-play we won the battle. One of them was Prologue. I don’t remember the other two.
“Sometimes, if we’re lucky enough, preparation leads us from one opportunity to the next. Even luckier is when we realize that there are no limits to anything. While I am thankful for my professional years from 1996–2018, I now know I have overcome that world of working for others. That’s merely an escape room to solve.
No more late nights, no more missed family weekends. Life isn’t meant to serve a profession, let alone someone else. Life is meant to be loved through joy. No one can define this for us. It is part of a lifelong pursuit that is well worth your attention. Don’t wait. Now is the best time to stop, breathe, and do something incredible!”
Gnosis
Even the very definition of gnosis is misleading and counterintuitive. It’s directly self-stigmatizing by aligning it with secret or hidden mysteries of spiritual knowledge. This immediately labels it as woo-woo and even dangerous. Believe me, I saw through the illusion of needing a church to commune with God and his son when I was barely three years old. There’s really nothing more natural than gnosis itself. It lives and breathes within our soul, never a separate entity. It’s our divine spark.
Gnosis is labeled as a rebel in order to place it in a corner, walled off from the masses. Many are made to believe that they aren’t included calling it out as a private club for only the initiates. This couldn’t be further from the truth. If we look within and request access, our inner universe opens revealing everything I knew all along without need for unnecessary mediators like a church or preacher to introduce me to the true Jesus. Be wary because once enlightenment begins, it never stops.
God kept me close, joined at the hip never severed from his pure love and affection by a world of illusions struggling for a power that doesn’t even exist in the world of men. Only through spirit may we rise above all of the distractions in our fallen, disconnected society. Ironic that we believe we’re all connected to one another like never before, but it is a false union sold by circus carnival snake oil salesmen. Be cautious because even our own programmed minds can derail our purpose.
Look within. That’s where God lives. Even sin doesn’t exist. It was created as a vehicle to salvation by man, not a divine spirit being bathed in pure light. Blasphemy you say? Not for me, and everyone’s spiritual path is strikingly different. Faking it is no way to make it. God and his son speak to me once I turn off the distortion fields surrounding us all. A gnostic life is no easy path. Once we realize our body is the temple that Jesus taught, we’re aligned with our true nature. Access granted.
So many remain asleep waiting for a savior that will never arrive in a fiery chariot from heaven above. His love has been within us all along. This divine connection cannot be broken because it is the fundamental keystone of the heart. Your awakening isn’t something a psychiatrist, preacher or mind-altering psychedelics can deliver. Heed my warning that’s not to be taken lightly. Once seen, it cannot be unseen.
“According to the prolific Carl Gustav Jung, founder of analytical psychology and guru, ‘Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.’ Regarding awakening he stated, ‘Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.’ Truth in enlightenment.”
Home Grown & Farm Fresh
Back in the year 2000 I faced a crucial decision while building out my broadcast pipeline. Initially I thought I’d track down a used SGI Indigo2 or Octane running Discreet Logic Flint or Flame. The hourly rate for a system of that caliber averaged around $250. However, I had a bit of trepidation in my decision. I felt a vibration, and it was growing fast.
Apple QuickTime was finally maturing for broadcast-quality delivery, tapeless, and easily delivered on hard drives or DVD-RAM disks. No need for a tape machine for output changed the game for me immediately. I decided to build out a four workstation render farm for Adobe After Effects (AE) and Electric Image Animation System (EIAS).
I did end up adding a Sony J-30 output only deck for $9K. As fate would have it, I only used it once or twice because my clients, for the most part, were already delivering me 10-bit footage to use in our projects on portable hard drives. However, I did still use my Sony 13-inch SDI monitor in order to view fields, 3:2 pulldown, and any fine details that cause ringing in NTSC. We jokingly called NTSC “Never the same color twice.”
I always rendered with motion blur, lower field first 29.97. However, as time went on, I switched to 24 frames per second and added 3:2 pulldown. Renders were shorter and it gave my work a filmic quality. I later upgraded my workflow to 59.94 frames per second and then combined the fields upper field first for full 1920x1080 HD.
Too bad that so many people nowadays not only don’t color manage or professionally monitor their work with test equipment that engineers demand, they also render without motion blur, fields, and deliver QuickTime movies that are frame-based at 30 fps. Nothing looks smooth anymore. Everything is jarring and lacks a sense of high end production. That’s where my three plus decades of not only following production standards, but also elevating them back to pure form.
Building out a Watch Folder AE render farm was effortless, as was EIAS. My hourly rate, that to this day remains the same, was set at $100 an hour. My first year garnered a six-figure salary, but for me it was never about the money. I was given a precious gift that allowed me to follow my curiosities and passions for storytelling. The variety kept me curious.
Bringing stories to life in the form of broadcast promos and show branding was my jam, and I built up a reputation for never settling for second best. One job naturally led to another. Word of mouth advertising served me well. The only marketing I ever spent any money on were two runs of business cards and a simple one or two page website.
I think I handed out less than ten cards at trade shows like NAB and Siggraph. Instead I fostered friendships with various vendors ranging from editing and compositing software to broadcast monitoring hardware. One card I gave to Steve, the After Effects Project Manager at Adobe. That following year I answered Steve’s call to join him and three other artists at National Association of Broadcasters (NAB) in Las Vegas.
We shared projects showing off our various production and animation techniques with the crowds at the entertainment industry’s most revered trade show in Las Vegas. I think it was also around the same time I joined the After Effects Prerelease Program. I was an active member for about four years. Getting AE for free was a plus, but that had nothing to do with my active participation in the group. One cycle I made it into the top ten slot so I got my hands on an alpha version that next go round.
Bug squashing was key, but the majority of the time we discussed and tested UI changes, new features, and workflow enhancements. 32-bit compositing immediately lit a clear path back to a true call back to the traditional darkroom where we dodged, burned, and doubly exposed our photographic creative curiosities in elementary school. Pure magic.
“32-bit compositing immediately lit a clear path back to a true call back to the traditional darkroom where we dodged, burned, and doubly exposed our photographic creative curiosities in elementary school. Pure magic.”
33 Years
Thirty-three years ago I opened Adobe Illustrator for the first time at University of Georgia’s graphic design department’s Macintosh computer lab in Athens. We were tasked with designing our logo in Professor Ronald Arnholm’s Typography course. I designed my Vinson logo — seen above in my website’s masthead — in ten minutes. I saw it in my mind and then began typing in v-i-n on top and s-o-n on the bottom. Spending so much time with stencils as my concentration in AP Art my senior year in high school trained my eyes to see positive and negative spaces simultaneously. What I loved most about the direction I took with my logo was the subtle nod to the Yin and Yang with the dot over the lowercase letter i and the inner dot of the letter o. I was in a focused flow state while sleuthing my solution to the exercise. My birthday twin, Edgar Allan Poe, would have certainly enjoyed my art of deduction in finding the true solution.
The graphic designer’s most parallel pursuit is that of the curiously adept detective deducing all angles of minutiae down to one, pure solution. “When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” — Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
I was naturally drawn to the Futura font family for its sans serif, geometric qualities. It was the first font choice I made. Futura was designed by Paul Renner in 1927. It was released by Bauersche Gießerei foundry in Germany, founded in 1837. My logo has seven pieces and two dots that are not perfect circles but vertically oblong giving them a touch of motion and whimsy. That was a small detail my prolific professor noticed immediately. He observed that they shouldn’t be perfect circles because they would lose their visual tension and energy if perfectly rounded. I heeded his advice and wrapped up my design. As I mentioned above, my logo has a hidden 27 in the two dots and seven pieces. Also Futura was born in 1927, and The Bat-Man arrived in Detective Comics issue number 27. That’s my lucky number. My universal number is 3. 3 to the 3rd power is 27. Call it fate, I guess, or just three groovy synchronicities.
“I’ve always spoken out, believing passionately about building solid, fortified foundations first before ever moving ahead and investing in the creative analog and digital gear necessary to earn a living in the arts. Deeply appreciating color theory, anatomy, photography, and perplexing mathematical theorems equips us with a natural springboard.”
A Curiously Adept Designer Detective’s Random Moments of Messy Minutiae:
Professor Arnholm stopped by to check in on my logo’s progress. Quite calmly he leaned in and observed my work. He paused and then said, ‘that mark will last a long time.’ Longevity is one of the primary goals of graphic design communication. It’s also the toughest one to accomplish. This went down in history as my most treasured moment in my entire fine art and graphic design career that began when I was twelve painting and selling $100 watercolors for family friends.
Even when I was still deep in the trenches with QuarkXPress for my print clients, I always dreamed of the day that Adobe would essentially take the foundation of Illustrator and tune it in such a way that it could be a desktop publishing program like Quark. In 1999 InDesign 1.0 was released. The first time I launched it I was already comfortable at home. It looked exactly like Illustrator, but it had facing pages, and H and Js. I never read the manual because everything was so elegantly and intentionally placed within the UI, unlike Quark’s quirkiness, and far more streamlined.
By the time I was sixteen, I was designing logos for local companies, illustrating restaurant mascots, rendering technical illustrations for amusement park rides, and drawing more than 500 caricatures of my high school senior class, famous actors and comedians, neighborhood swim teams, and even my Mom’s tennis team.
I love that Futura was released in 1927. As most of my colleagues know is that twenty-seven is my lucky number. It’s also the Detective Comics issue number that introduced us to ‘The Bat-Man’ in 1939. You could say that DC is in my blood. Heck, my boss at TWC’s last name was Booth…get it? Phone booth…Superman?
Fun fact: The Weather Channel owned the first Quantel Paintbox sold in the Americas with serial number one. It’s now in the Smithsonian Institution. The first year on-air, TWC’s Art Department won more BDA Awards than anyone else in the country. They even garnered an additional award for winning more than anyone else. I was so lucky to become a small part of the Art Department’s legacy. ET and I are still good friends today.
I worked for TWC full time twice and as a contractor and freelancer many times. They even followed me to Outpost Pictures and Artifact Design for a total of 14 years of creative collaborations. My teammates at The Weather Channel gifted me a special Superman poster scribbled in silver with best wishes when I left to join Artifact Design. My daughter calls me Batman. Edgar Allan Poe and I are birthday twins, and his creation of the Detective genre directly influenced Batman.
In order to get buy in from The Weather Channel Engineering Department I knew I needed to not speak, but fully understand their technical language. When we, as artists, used the two Quantel PaintBoxes we didn’t have to really understand anything about the minutiae of broadcast terminology like NTSC lower field first, 3:2 pulldown, motion blur samples, etc. We just needed to make sure to not use zero black in our graphics.
Luckily a little startup came along called Toolfarm in San Francisco at just the right moment in 1999. They sold After Effects plug-ins and desktop creative software for Macintosh like After Effects, Electric Image Animation System, Commotion, and Final Cut Pro. They were our one stop shop for everything we needed to transition from two Quantel PaintBoxes and two Discreet Flints to our own desktop workstations.
However, TWC Engineering got involved and we ended up building out the hardware with a local Atlanta reseller, Video Central. They provided two Blue and White PowerMac G3s each equipped with a Targa 2000 SDX video I/O card, a 144GB Rorke Data striped array, and ICE accelerator cards for After Effects. The systems always ran far too hot with those two double layered PCI cards so we had to keep the side doors open in order not to overheat. Also the video arrays were highly unstable which was more than likely an issue with the SCSI ATTO cards. I had a gray G3 tower that had a SCSI card, but the documentation specifically noted never to use it. Strange. Why would Apple offer an unstable SCSI port? Weird.
When I was first perusing Toolfarm’s website, one little set of VHS tapes caught my eye, ‘Masters of Visual Effects’ training videos with industry pros like Ron Brinkman who literally wrote the book on digital compositing, and co-founded Nothing Real that brought us the compositing and effects software Shake. Once I studied up on the terminology and put it into action I caught the eye of the Engineering department head who appeared pleased.
My plan had worked, and eventually I found a way to unite multiple departments at TWC, including our Design Group, Facilities, Engineering, and even as far up the food chain as the VP of Production. Our little art department had grown, and our skillsets along with it. I was my Design Director’s right hand man and leader of the Plugged-In workgroup. We researched and evaluated all software and hardware for each year’s capital and monthly expenditures.
The Roman philosopher Seneca once mused, ‘luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity.’ My entire career was tethered to one connection after another. A myriad of relationships spanning the entire entertainment industry from support and sales to alpha and beta testing and even branding opportunities with some of my favorite folks I met along the way. I started out on a PaintBox, but saw the desktop wave that began with publisher coming hard and fast for video and film. From TWC to Discreet Logic, Toolfarm, Puffin, ICE, RealViz, and Red Giant to Zaxwerks, Adobe, Trapcode, SCAD, and back to TWC, and then onto Artifact Design that led to Outpost Pictures.
Timing is everything, right? I guess I couldn’t have been let go from ICE at any better moment. I got a call the following morning from a friend at CN8 The Comcast Network. “I hear you need a gig,” he said with a chuckle. I obliged so we set forth to win numerous awards together. This was the beginning of the diversification of my broadcast design portfolio. My friend brought me on again when he left Comcast to go work at CBS Channel 3 in downtown Philadelphia. I can still taste those yummy cheesesteaks.
Chatting with Grant Petty for an hour long distance about his first venture into desktop monitoring with the Digital Voodoo D1 Desktop was one expensive phone call. I rang him up from my desk at TWC. Luckily I didn’t get the phone bill. Once he left DV to form Blackmagic Design, I was hired by DV to answer worldwide support calls in my home studio. I was featured as one of the first few Customer Features on BMD.com.
Sometimes the best advice comes in contrast to our dreams and life pursuits. A dear friend warned me not to go into the film industry and work on movies. He also advised that I diversify my portfolio. Sticking to my guns and heeding his advice I kept my place in the broadcast industry, never succumbing to the lure of Hollywood. In Free Guy fashion “I leveled up.” Before I knew it, thirty-three years had passed, and my portfolio had never been stronger with over one-hundred brands under my belt. Not too shabby for a primarily self-taught designer.
I was somehow always tied to Neverland in a dozen of intersecting, dizzying arrays of fantasy flights beginning with my Peter Pan storybook, that I still have today in my home studio. The 1991 Steven Spielberg film, Hook, starred two of my favorite actors, Robin and Dustin. Genius casting decisions. I even lived down the street from Tinkerbell’s high school in Smyrna, Georgia. In 1993 I decorated my UGA graphic design submissions with a scene of Captain Hook asking Tinkerbell ‘where did Vinson bury the treasure?’ Her inked footprints start at the inkwell and traverse to the edge of the folder arriving where x marked the spot at the clasp on the back.
In 1997 I found myself standing just two feet away from Industrial Light & Magic’s Neverland matte painting hanging in their lobby at Kerner Optical. Painted by Yusei Uesugi, this painting was the first matte painting in film history to be projected onto 3D geometry adding additional depth to the illustion. Two years later, in 1999, I began learning ElectricImage Animation System sporting the Knoll Lens Flare plugins. My first EIAS project’s opening shot followed the camera between city buildings with the glowing Knoll flare as the sun for a new morning show on The Weather Channel. In 1999 I replaced the need for the Quantel Paintbox and SGI Discreet Logic Flint with Macintosh desktop tools. That moment began my twenty-seven year love affair with After Effects.
So many friends and colleagues assumed I was a master at Photoshop. The truth was quite different. I watched Brian Maffitt’s AE training VHS tapes. The following morning I opened up AE and realized I could design all of my style frames within the compositing environment in AE. Finally! Back when we were using the PaintBoxes and Flint systems, we built design elements in layered Photoshop files. Then we would ftp them over the network one layer at a time as 24-bit Targa files. If memory serves correctly I believe we had to send separate files for the beauties and their corresponding mattes. The process was so tedious, but a necessary evil.
After being recruited by ICE, I found myself unemployed two months later. They made me an offer to leave TWC I couldn’t refuse. They doubled my salary, and my primary job was to travel around the world giving ICE After Effects demos. Too good to be true, I guess. In hindsight the truth was that they were padding their creative roster in order to court and raise Media100’s bid to buyout their company. I got a call directly from ICE’s CEO, you’re fired. The very next day I got a call from my buddy at CN8 The Comcast network. His first words were, “so I hear you need some work.” So we got started on some show opens for Comcast. When he left to fill the Design Director’s role at CBS3 in Philadelphia we continued our collabs for a few more years.
In 2006 I was tasked by Red Giant Software to design and star in my own version of their Knoll Training DVD. Many of my examples were a gentle nod back to John Knoll’s After Effects training I first witnessed in 2001 when we added Knoll Lens Flare Pro (later Knoll Light Factory) to our AE creative arsenal. In 2008 I designed and edited Red Giant’s NAB reel. The following year I updated the design and my business partner, a master at color grading and riveting storytelling, was the editor.
During the summer of 2009 while in Boston training New England Sports Network’s producers and designers I had an aha moment that first night in my hotel room. I spent an hour or so building out the concept borrowing a little bit of JavaScript from Dan Ebberts’ MotionScript website. The following morning I shared my little rig with NESN. The first thing they said was, “lens flares aren’t 3D.” I replied with a smirk, “they are now.” The truth is they’ve always been 3D going all the way back to my first day with Knoll Lens Flare in Electric Image.
In 2001 I created my first After Effects overview video for Toolfarm. Peder’s Trapcode Shine had just been released, and they needed a quick 5-minute overview. The following spring I got to me the genius behind Trapcode, such a humble, friendly guy. Seven years later Red Giant Software tasked me to create preset packs for Trapcode Particular and Shine. They were bundled with the Trapcode Suite.
I also developed my own original splatter FX engine utilizing Trapcode Particular for After Effects. It included thirty handcrafted splatter textures that I made with India ink and a flick of the wrist in my basement studio. I fully developed the concept that included ten different setups, optional animated drips, and was 3D camera-aware with shading. Red Giant ended up passing on it so I released the thirty textures for free.
Around that same time in 2009 I started developing a new set of tools for AE called Red Giant Galaxy. It included a full toolkit of planets, suns, star fields, constellations, nebulae, asteroids, black holes, event horizons, etc. If you look closely at the Holomatrix commercial you can see some of the asteroids in the backgrounds.
I lived in Atlanta for twenty-two years. Fourteen of those working with the folks that taught me active listening and got me back in touch with my inner empath. I owe the entirety of my broadcast design career to them. We accomplished a great many things together. Most importantly, we evolved and challenged ourselves beyond what we could do alone. We is the way, not just me. It’s not about mine, it’s about us. I owe so much to my many mentors and design directors, but more than anyone I thank my family for always believing in me. They helped me prove to myself that following my dreams wasn’t just possible, it was inevitable as long as I followed my curious inner child that I never let die.
I’d also like to thank Bonnie and my entire GMOA family, everyone at Toolfarm, the Masters of VFX veterans at Puffin Designs, the entire Red Giant Software gang, Ellen Wixted at Adobe Systems, Grant Petty and his Digital Voodoo D1 Desktop, Las Vegas Korean BBQ with Mike Skibra, Pasadena mojitos with Steve Kilisky, and Ken Keagy, CNN and TWC veteran, at CN8 The Comcast Network and later with CBS3 Philadelphia for my first freelance gig the day after Media100 bought ICE and I was let go after working there for only two months.
Be blessed ya’ll. — David, Your TWC Superman
“Adobe After Effects immediately replaced my need for Photoshop, and more importantly was the keystone of my entire compositing and motion graphics career. After twenty-seven years and multiple years of highly discounted Creative Cloud subscriptions it was finally time to give thanks, say our goodbyes and part ways. AE is still with me in versions 5.5 and 9.”
As students we got to ride the first wave of what would soon become the desktop revolution takeover in the world of print. But these were just the first few baby steps. Keep in mind that this was back in the early to mid-90s when Photoshop didn’t even have layers yet. They weren’t introduced until version 3. I only used 2% of Illustrator’s capabilities primarily to design iconography and logotypes. I began with napkin sketches and then hopped into Illustrator laying down basic shapes. Then I would test drive different fonts looking for just the right personality for the mark’s identity. Next I would outline the fonts and take them into the sculpting phase with the pen tool. I used Pathfinder extensively for cleanup. Suddenly I lost my focus as a fax machine started humming and screeching in the recesses of my mind. I was back at UGA meeting with Professor Williams, avid skydiver and old-school stone letterer, as he read the facsimile message. Little did I know my fate would soon be sealed.
That seemingly innocent fax from The Weather Channel was about to rock my world. Their friendship with UGA’s graphic design school ran deep. Each year they reached out requesting that Professor Williams, chair of the Graphic Design Department, to send his top students to interview for what would prove to be a job opportunity of a lifetime. Two of us made the trek to Atlanta to interview for the designer position in their Art Department. All I could focus on during my drive to Atlanta was why in the world would I want to work at a broadcast network, especially The Weather Channel? The Design Director of the on-air Art Department met the two of us at the door welcoming us into their unfamiliar world of broadcast television. We were in for a real treat. With each introduction I began to feel a shift in my mind. By the time we made the final round meeting up with the print designer, I felt at home. These were my people, and a big kahuna-sized tidal wave was about to drop me into the barrel.
Why did I take the job with the weather weenies? Two things: the people and the toys. We were a motley mix of artists and designers working four day ten hour shifts while sharing two Quantel PaintBoxes. Painting with light on a television screen was such a life-changing experience that immediately felt so familiar taking me back to when I was eleven. Back in 1983 my parents bought me a Commodore 64. My first digital artwork painted and plotted pixel by pixel with the arrow keys was a portrait of Indiana Jones from Raiders of the Lost Ark, my favorite film of all time. Quite honestly, it was watching their artists giving us a demo of those two blackmagic boxes of digital alchemy that sealed the deal for me. They also had a little Mac in the corner running Photoshop, my secret weapon that gave me access to building design elements just as I did in college. It was the perfect companion to Quantel Harriet Paintbox.
By the mid-90s Photoshop finally gained layers with version 3. I’d apply effects on various elements that I sent to the PaintBoxes for final animation and compositing. My crew mates inquired how did I achieve a particular look or style. Photoshop, of course. Up to that point most of the veteran artists had only used it for camera ready artwork ingest. While most of the team welcomed my curious stylings, there was one that didn’t take too nicely to me. I was half their age, cocky for sure, and new nothing about broadcast except to question everything. I still remember designing my first video title card for a segment called “Rose Basics.” Rose was set in Helvetica Bold tracked tightly with each character kissing the next. Basics was set in lowercase Snell Roundhand going against the guidance of one of my new teammates. They said that they stayed away from serif fonts because they were too thin for television. I proved them wrong and also learned a little trick. Blur the text just a touch and it stopped ringing on the screen.
Somehow that experience gave me such a rush of childhood memories, I felt like it was almost Christmas morning. During my drive back to Athens I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. I was offered the job just a day or two later, passed the drug test, and began packing up. I moved on Christmas day 1995 into my Vinings apartment in Atlanta located at the top of Overlook above Vinings Village and New York Pizza that made the biggest, tastiest pizzas I’d every eaten. There was also a sushi restaurant called Orient Express, quite fitting because our table was just twenty feet from the train tracks. Not a retired line, either. It was active and so loud when the trains would roll by every hour or so each afternoon. Believe it or not it was actually kind of charming albeit deafening, too.
Just around the time I got out of college and started working at TWC there was another desktop revolution coming hard and fast. Compositing and visual effects, video and film, would be forever changed moving the primary tools from $100,000+ black box Quantel and SGI workstations to small, adept Rebel Mac units popping up everywhere. I spent two years hopping on and off of our two PaintBoxes and one tiny little Mac in the corner running Photoshop for camera art input and the Gateway to our Meteorlogy department’s on-air system. Our art department’s artists and designers shared these two PaintBoxes for years. The version I learned was called “Harriet.” She had 383 frames in a Ramcorder for immediate access.
One afternoon I visited one of the senior designers on the fifth floor. He showed me the newest addition to our creative arsenal: two SGI workstations running the same software that ILM used for Jurassic Park. I asked my buddy what it would take to be able to hop onto these two new systems, and he looked at me and bluntly offered this advice: “simple, read the manual.” So I read the manual in one night. I was mesmerized at the particle systems, lights, and animation curves. I couldn’t put the manual down until I read the last page. That next morning I got to work. About a week or two later I was tasked to train another artist on the Flint so we could handle all of the final compositing for the Pittard Sullivan brand redesign. This move allowed us to keep the finishing in house and also keep the cost way down.
I spent about sixteen months with the two Discreet Logic Flints and SoftImage3D Extreme. A handful of us were fortunate enough to travel to Tennessee to Marshall Graphics Systems to learn SoftImage. In order to move past the limitations and managing the shifts it took for our eight artists we needed a new solution beyond these two I made the first call of many to a new company called Toolfarm in San Francisco, founded in 1999. Perfect timing was an understatement. We blazed the trail ahead of our own engineers, knowing full well that the future was moving in a seismic shift to off-the-shelf solutions loaded up on modest Macintoshes. This was the second desktop revolution. The first being in print in 1985.
What began as an innocent long-distance call and query with Grant Petty about his Digital Voodoo D1 Desktop led to a career where I never traded in my childhood curiosities. I guess you could call me a Lost Boy, possibly even Tootles, Wendy’s first orphan, because I lost my marbles (Hook).
We modeled our own band of rebels based on Industrial Light and Magic’s creative desktop gear like Electric Image Animation System, After Effects, Photoshop, Commotion, and Puffin Designs plugins like Knoll Lens Flare Pro for EIAS and Photoshop, and renamed Knoll Lens Flare Pro when it became available for After Effects in 2001. There were also two other plugin sets by Puffin Designs for AE, Composite Wizard and Image Lounge. Our two ICE cards helped immensely with heavy renders. Later on we added more tools for AE from RE:Vision Effects and the Foundry.
In order to get our engineers on board with our radical plans my first step was solving the import and export of Digi-Beta footage to and from the Macs. We also needed true engineer-grade monitoring. It didn’t take long to find the solution. One afternoon, after wrapping up a session on the Flint for a brand redesign with Pittard Sullivan, I called Grant Petty at Digital Voodoo in Victoria, Australia. I inquired about his D1 Desktop for After Effects running on Apple’s Macintoshes. We chatted it up for half an hour. Luckily I didn’t get the phone bill. :) A year or two passed when Grant left the company he founded to start Blackmagic Design that has redefined the entire broadcast and post production industry. I used their DeckLink hardware for video monitoring and input in my homegrown studio. I was also one of their first customer features on their website in 2004.
When we built the first two Mac-daddy workstations that cost in total far less than the PaintBox or Flint, we equipped them with hardware acceleration PCI boards to speed up rendering in After Effects and Commotion. The company was called ICE, and I was their poster child in a half dozen magazines and a featured artist on their demo reel. I remember the day they sent me a rather pricey gift for my contributions to their marketing campaigns. A huge box arrived early one day with my name on it. I excitedly opened it up revealing my own ICE card and all of the ICE software. My boss had no problem with me taking their gift home to my studio. I even got to travel to New York for a video interview with ICE sharing my secret After Effects weapon for their demo reel. As time went on it became quite clear that eventually all twelve broadcast designers needed access to the same powerful hardware and software gear. Then something happened out of left field. I was invited to have breakfast with the folks at ICE.
I was being actively recruited by the folks at Integrated Computing Engines (ICE) to join their team as a traveling demo artist. I couldn’t resist the opportunity that not only doubled my salary at The Weather Channel, but gave me freedom to continue running my own creative studio. Next I was approached by Digital Voodoo who inquired if I would be interested in being their worldwide support specialist. It was a part time gig for just a few hours a week so I signed on for eighteen months. I helped out primarily for phone support and also assisted at trade shows. I met my future business partner, Chris, at Outpost Pictures when he called the support number one afternoon and I answered. He said it was pretty clear that he knew a bit more than I did. Funny guy. Extremely humble and talented, too.
A few years passed and before I knew it I was consulting for Toolfarm while running my own animation and design home studio. They connected me with numerous vendors and clients including Zax Dow, Mike Skibra, Ted and Shemane Nugent, and the kind folks at RealViz and Adobe. I ended up going on the road with both RealViz once at the University of Seattle, WA, and Adobe numerous times at NAB, Siggraph, and at Savannah College of Art & Design in Savannah, Georgia, where I was a student from 1991–1993 for all of my foundation courses. After my showing off my reel and running through the After Effects presentation I met two professors that gave me quite a compliment. They asked if I would like to become a professor at SCAD. I don’t have a Masters degree, but they said no worries, and that I could get it while a was teaching.
I ended up turning down SCAD, but I did make quite a few connections in Atlanta with folks like Sterling Ledet who gave me numerous opportunities to teach After Effects, DVD Studio Pro, and Final Cut Pro to classes ranging from 3–5 and up to a dozen students at a time as was the case for CNN’s creative group. I enjoyed teaching so much that I built out customized training courses for folks at Georgia Pacific Television, the video production team at Philips Arena, New England Sports Network, The Weather Channel, The Weather Channel Latin America, and Ted Nugent’s wife, Shemane.
Adobe’s ecosystem was always at the heart of everything I taught. I was a proud Adobe user and already becoming quite the After Effects evangelist and trainer. However, when Apple bought a video editing program from MacroMedia that became Final Cut Pro, all bets were off with Premiere. How ironic that Adobe bought MacroMedia in 2005, but it was seven years too late. Due to a highly restrained workflow and instabilities we switched to Final Cut Pro 1.2.5 at TWC about a month after we had first implemented those two Blue and White PowerMac G3s I mentioned above. Final Cut Pro was so stable right out of the gate. Premiere, not so much, like ever. Long live Final Cut Pro.
I was honored that Adobe’s Marketing Department reached out to me to fix the Classroom in a Book that Belief had designed. I updated the files and added some newly added AE effects like Scribble to the final look. Adobe used the scene on the back of the AE box that year. I had also just wrapped up Zax Dow’s Zaxwerks identity package including his marketing materials and 3D Invigorator Classic and 3D Invigorator Pro CD installers for After Effects. They were included inside that same AE box with the updated aforementioned CIAB scene. Pretty cool. My work was also featured on the Adobe multimedia demo reel. A year later I found myself alongside three other designers giving demos at the Adobe NAB booth. In 2002 I was a featured artist and an uncredited writer for Studio Secrets: Adobe Premiere and After Effects. I was also involved in creating short examples for an effects gallery, but that project was cancelled.
Thank you Toolfarm, Puffin Designs, EIAS, Zaxwerks, Adobe, ICE, Apple, Red Giant Software, Digital Voodoo, Blackmagic Design, Video Central, Niche Video, Quantel, Discreet Logic, SoftImage, SGI, Ledet, Marshall Graphics Systems, and Film & Video, Millimeter, Video Systems, and Digital Content Creator magazines. More importantly all of the folks behind the scenes I met along the way :) It wasn’t easy to say goodbye to After Effects after twenty-seven years. It was my Swiss-Army knife where I designed, created, and finished all of my broadcast design and compositing work. I am thankful to still have two working copies pre-CC. 5.5 is running on my 1999 Blueberry iMac and the other, version 9, on my mid-2010 27-inch iMac along with all of my favorite plugins. Heck, I still have a working copy of Electric Image, too. I even have my USB dongle, and it still works!
“Work Hard. Render Fast. Retire Young.”
— Electric Image Animation System’s mantra printed in white Futura Ultra on the black box, and the same font I used for my logo five years earlier.
Question Everything
I’ve never had all the answers. That’s why I question everything. Even if I could have all the answers, that sure would take all the fun out of life now wouldn’t it? I wake each morning and lay my head down each night with one thing on my mind: stay curious. Once we understand that the term child and adult don’t really mean anything, as is age only a number, we allow ourselves to sever their connection blinding us from our soul’s purpose. We aren’t here to be catalogued and easily referenced. Instead, we are here to unravel the mysteries that have stumped science, religion, and philosophy for centuries. Welcoming mysticism and Kabbalah, teachings kept divided from the core religions. The leaders edited out nearly everything in regards to our inner temples, that God is not somewhere up there, rather within each of us at our very heart, gut, mind, and soul centers. Divinity lives within all of us.
These men retooled the narrative giving a more grounded, earthly understanding of their version of the big picture. Religion would call it God’s plan for us that was always focused on out there, up there or even down there if you lived a sinful life never asking for forgiveness of evil ways. The truth is that there is no destination when we die, only a transition into pure, formless energy full of collective memory fueled with the childlike curiosity that faded as we aged into senility. I began rewiring and untying my own memories knotted and frayed, most connections barely holding on by a quarter millimeter cobweb. So frail yet after I dusted them off I realized these connections were not flimsy webs, they were neurons firing at full capacity once I requested access to what had been sent to the deep recesses of my mind.
I was never very comfortable in this world. So, after 50 years, I decided to build my own where everything connects to everything else just as my friend Leo foretold. It embraced all of nature’s creatures. I specifically sought out to befriend squirrels in my Pa’s memory. I am now very careful never to step on anything as I stroll along the path every morning, even ants and earthworms as they scurry across my way on the Swamp Rabbit. I called every squirrel “JoJo.” Pa used to call them “Joe.” They would hop onto his lap as he gifted them peanuts. They didn’t just grab the peanut and run back to the tree to shuck it either. They sat quite comfortably on his shoulder, even in his lap with no fear. I noticed immediately after I befriended my first “JoJo” that all the other squirrels followed suit. I don’t mean just the squirrels in the local vicinity of my first befriending. Everywhere no matter how far and wide the distance.
Miles away from that handshake encounter with “JoJo,” the trail squirrels never scurried away from me anymore. It’s as if morphic resonance is real. Well I’ve repeated this test with other animals. Guess what? Now animals both in the ground and even in the air go out of their way to welcome me into their precious portion of the world. One of the funniest things I’ve seen is that people’s dogs that they’re walking as they pass by me so many times the dogs pull away from their people to try to get to me. It’s as if I’ve been given some sort of special animal magnetism, some sort of charismatic trick. But there’s no trick here at all. It’s all just as true as granddad‘s center of gravity physics trick that looks completely impossible, but is such an easy way to share the spectacle of balancing a fork and spoon on a toothpick sitting on the very edge of a curved edge glass. We must see in order to believe, but not always.
Grandad’s trick looked impossible every time. How could Pa invite his little furry friends and feed them peanuts? I think it has a lot to do with understanding and seeing what is unseen. Understanding how everything is connected to everything else. There’s an invisible force of attraction between everything. We are just beginning to remember what we’ve known for centures, that we must believe in the unseen in order to understand our own innate superpowers. I have even acquired, more accurately awakened, my psychic abilities within my own temple. Everything on this website that I talk about most call it mumbo-jumbo let me tell you something. I will never ask for you to believe me or not, but I will tell you it’s all true no matter what you believe. I’m not here to open your eyes to anything. I’m just here to share how I have opened my own.
Once I requested access, the very next morning my eyes, my ears, and even tingling psychic abilities were beginning to heat up and take shape. Curiosity is not only for the cat or even us as children. It took me half a century to restart my own reality. Yet this time around, I’m not the crazy one. Rather, I consider myself quite sane as does my mental and physical health care team. There is so much more to life than what appears right in front of our faces. Beyond the distractions, beyond the anxieties lives a world where connection in the form of a superposition, possibly even a singularity, that lies at the heart of everything. Never lose that yearning quest for knowledge only found through direct experience. Testing a hypothesis in the lab never yields pure results. The experiment must be given a soul, a breath, a chance to grow beyond its original postulate outside in the sun surrounded by nature.