I’ve been a moving target for half a century. I’ve been labeled bipolar one, schizo too, macro-religious with a gifted IQ. Then my psychiatrist, the Medical Director at Carolina Center of Behavioral Health, looked up and posed a final question: is it a vivid imagination or manic depression? Dr. D. proved to me that I must unravel the mysteries of me myself because no one else knows me like I do. She was right. All I had to do was ask God for counsel. He showed me everything once I took the time to request access. It’s written within our archetypal DNA. Every breath.
Who could have predicted that my Hero would be me? Born a month early and beatened down from day one. Convinced by dark forces I was cursed, even tied to the Devil himself. After half a century of trials and tribulations I was reminded by God that my wings weren't clipped. They were invisible. I’d been floating down the hallways of my childhood home since before I could write or draw. My mind was born brightly with foresights set on blinding lights.
I was blinded again on the fifth decade’s anniversary night. Once toxic to lithium 36 hours later I woke up fully for the first time in my life. My inner knowing was finely tuned to solving the rhymes and reverberations of everything around me. Limitless, but grounded in faith. Be wary now to my prose. I enjoy flowery language at times. I’m apt to share both riddle and rhyme grounded in the universal language of infinitely recurring numbers. I see them all around me never hiding from my gaze.
My Father and I believe our strength lies in numbers. Both of our names are Roman numerals, his is CDV and mine is CDVII. 405 the former and 407 the latter. The hero’s journey is riddled with challenges. No mere meekly imagined ones either. I’m talking about blood, sweat, and tears. Possessed by demons in my case for half a century. Babied from the start understanding on day one my craftiness for manipulation. I had it all in my grasp, but God took away everything.
Not just once, thrice. If not given these fifty years of losing everything my soul might have remained damned. You see I’ve been stalked since birth. Attacked by dark forces in the heavenly realms. I know all to well how it feels in becoming a homicidal threat to myself and those I love most dearly. Pushed past the brink and beyond delusions of grandeur I discovered my calm. Serene seas of imaginative dreams while awake with lucidity the ground shakes.
My storm was manufactured by outside influences, those wishing to destroy me. To snuff out my light. Yet in the end of those fifty years they failed. Never realizing that every time I was cast aside and left to die I rose higher each time in my resolve. Now I've become not only my fully realized spiritual form within this mortal shell, but I know all to well how to spot a demon. It takes one to know one so thank you for every trial. All you did was fulfill God’s plan for me.
I am strong again, but not only in muscle. This time my strengths have come full circle pulsing through my veins. My superpowers lie in my activated intuition, imagination, intellect, and predictive spontaneity. Once I combined all four I knew with a wink and a smile my life force is set to full measure. Glowing from within my light cannot be dimmed. My eyes cannot unsee the truth all around me. The less I look the more I see while I swim the waters of eternity.
I’m surrounded, grounded by numbers repeating on both sides of my periphery. They give me a peaceful resolve that’s crystal clear. I face each day with consistency breeding calmness. Calamities called out amongst devices spreading infectious distractions and interruptions wade to each side of me. Looking closer upon inspection I realize that the numbers correspond to particular directions. Some go north, others south into my imagination.
The southernly seas in poetry and prose contain a stream of electrified, metaphysical consciousness. Choosing to not deny I’ve completed the test. That’s where I choose to lay down and rest. Evil lives and dies while love evolves. “And in the naked light I saw; Ten thousand people, maybe more; people talking without speaking; People hearing without listening.” — “The Sound of Silence,” Simon and Garfunkel, 1964.
Numbers. Mathematics. Logic. That’s where the riddles live and breathe. I’ve been bending gravity to my will since I was only three. Grandad, Doc, taught us all about the center of gravity in his seemingly impossible toothpick physics tricks. The lesson wasn’t that we could cheat gravity itself. No, his goal was to reveal that nothing is what it seems and anything is possible if we apply the shortest solve stripped bare of any additions our minds attempted to add to the recipe. Even his peanut candy only had three ingredients. There is power in simplicity. It arrives in the form of efficiency.
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line. However, no lines are actually straight. If we step back and observe we immediately notice that every line is curved. Each just a slice of space time. We are intertwined with divine, but at birth we’re divided into threes in order for us to rise above our knees. Bowing down to an earthly force robs us of our inner resources leaving us empty and bare. Yet the best part in the end grants us fully aware of what’s to come.
A kingdom on Earth surrounded by angels. Our wings weren’t clipped. We weren’t cast out of Heaven, but there were those lurking in the midst of shadows who wanted us dead and buried swiftly, silently. Yes, demons have hunted us down for centuries. Some of us even made pacts with the Devil himself. Steps taken all part of God’s game plan handed down from on high. Heroes face trials. That’s how we rise. It’s how we learn to see and sort the false mediocrity from what lives within each of us. A timeless, untouchable truth: pure love, never aloof.
We must fall more times than naught in order to fully grasp our importance to the universal narrative. We’re all connected as da Vinci observed. He knew full well that our savior was within us, not out there. He knew we are all mortal until we remember we flew before we crawled. Insight into our hidden delights left in darkened corners safe from strife. Now we must choose to fight back the tears and wipe away the burdens of centuries past. We all rise again wide and vast.
I knew you’d never reach the end so I saved the best for last. I told a little, white lie from the beginning. I am not the Hero, rather I lived the life of the anti-hero until I turned fifty three years ago. The truth is we are all collectively the Hero in disguise. I have a little secret to tell. Jesus never left and neither did our wings. He an they are only invisible until we’re ready to crown our King. He doesn’t worship golden calfs.
Like I’ve said He lives in us regardless of our faith we follow or naught. He isn’t reserved for a particular lot. Christ Consciousness is the Hero and will always be. Each one of us He lives in thee. So close your eyes and say a prayer for now is forever for us who dare. We’ll rise above all else while earthly tyrants tear themselves apart limb from limb for they’ll never fathom our divine greatness within. The future is I AM, not AI.
The mighty pen, sharpest of any dimwit words of a mindless zombie horde generating mediocre masses while societal brain matters is shrinking with no neurons left for critical thinking. We must choose to use it or lose it. I chose to wield Christ Consciousness not belonging to any one, but everyone equally. False power eventually fizzles out. We’re nearing that time soon when it will be time to turn off the lights, go back to farming, and a simpler way of life.
Once we’re stripped of cash and corruption, our natural abilities once labeled fringe will ignite us again from deep within. Too much flowery prose? Well I must admit I’m to blame. I don’t allow machines to talk my game. It’s all coming from the heart, and for now I must depart. But wait, there’s one last trick I have for you that comes from a book we all know. It’s not up my sleeve this time, but alas time is the answer if one understands. Time isn’t linear. It’s cyclical. We’ve been here before.
It’s caught within the middle of each and every riddle. Answering riddle five to stay alive: “This thing all things devours; Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Slays king, ruins town, And beats mountain down.” — Gollum’s final riddle to Bilbo in The Hobbit. Yes, time tells the tale. We are at a crossroads of morality and vision of clouded, divisive derision. Will we fight or will evil prevail?
“Numbers. Mathematics. Logic. That’s where the riddles live and breathe. I’ve been bending gravity to my will since I was only three. Grandad, Doc, taught us all about the center of gravity in his seemingly impossible toothpick physics trick.”