You and I are going to Shambala. I pray for your safe journey there so that we may meet. Some of you will have been my enemies: some will be friends. We will meet in Shambala. We will talk of what we went through in the life. We will embrace as brother and sister in Shambala.
Our hearts will be true. Our souls will rejoice and we will share the joy of a job well done.
Shambala.
What it means is so many things to so many people. Yet it is what we seek for ourselves and those we love and respect.
We wash away the shame and guilt. We wash away the hate and fear in Shambala.
What ever belief you have does not matter for Shambala is there for all.
Shambala is freedom.
Bless us in freedom and I will greet you all in Shambala.

Coming out of sleep each day, for those of us on a regular schedule, is being born with a memory of our past life; yesterday.

This notion is not new. It has been an element of many cultures.
It is an interesting way of dealing with a human biological rhythm. A rhythm of life we often take for granted.
Our Earth spins completely around, one revolution, over the course of about 24 hours. Part of that time is spent with half of the earth facing the Sun, our home star, and facing the vast dark sea of space.

Much of life is bound by this rhythm.

Our lives become bracketed by days, more than hours, yet we see ourselves as "living" months and years at a time.

Really, when you wake up you are born again, another life! How are you going to spend your life today? Will you bring joy or will you bring sadness?
Will we bring the electricity of excitement or slowness of dread and fear.
Let's all make the best choice!
Happy Birthday!

Confusion comes usually from a conflict in what we hear or see, and what we think we know.
For instance when someone says something like; "you are going to the store are you not".
Well that seems like a statement more than a question but some folks answer it as a question. It can be seen as confusing.
Now you have the general idea.
I have spent much of my life in rural settings and have lived in cities as well. My last residence was halfway around the world in a rather rough place.
I came back to the states and relocated to a city for family duties. In the early morning I enjoy a walk. A few brave souls are out walking and some have their dogs.
I watched a dog do it's "business" and then I watched the dog owner reach down with a plastic bag and pick up the "business".
Don't get me wrong here. I think it's bloody noble to keep the side walk and street free of "business" but I could not help thinking that there is no way in Hell I would walk around behind a dog picking it's "business" up and then carry it about, or take it home.
That was my confusion.
The dog is owned but the owner waits on the dog. What's wrong with this picture?

Side note (In India the children will follow sacred cows about town collecting the Poop. When the children have a full sack of cow poop they take it home and smear it on a wall, let it dry ,and peel off strips to burn as fuel in cooking. No confusion in survival tactics )

Something about blacking out that defies description is the loss of color vision.
Over the Pacific ocean. Endless miles of the Big Blue to my left and the rolling California Coast to my right. A beautiful day for aerobatics.
Throttle up and back on the stick.
It's going to be a routine called "snapping the loop". The aircraft goes into a loop and as it get to the top of the loop, perform a snap roll and then complete the loop.
Number one rule!
Once the routine is started, follow it through by the numbers.

At the top of the loop I decided to change the routine.
Bad idea.
The "G" transition hit me and then got I light headed.
I could tell I was in trouble.
My vision started to go. It started to get dark around my field of vision; then I lost my color vision.
It was like i was looking though a jar full of clear marbles at a black and white picture.
This was going to be bad if I blacked out.
I tightened my body, tightened down in my chest and breathed.
My arms were like lead.
Then then dark hole began to widen and I got my color vision back.
I was closer to the ocean than I wanted to be and pulled into a steep climb.
All the time saying, outloud, to myself.
NEVER, NEVER CHANGE the AEROBATIC ROUTINE! whew!

I think sometimes we have a plan in life and then we change it.
Then we some how "blackout" to what our original plan was, and end up doing something other than what we want. We miss something very special;
fulfilling a dream.

Jerry and I had a snoot full of beer and had been shooting pool all afternoon. We had a good run on the tables and thought we could do no wrong.
Some loud mouth at the pub suggested we take our sorry butts up to Cloverdale and shoot pool with the Pomos.
The Pomo tribe are know for many things. Most popular are their feather baskets and pine needle baskets.
We caught a ride up to the ***** Club in Cloverdale. Our driver took off to the Russian river for swimming and dinner just out of town. He promised to pick us up about 10 PM
Well we got a real schooling. When we had a shot we were spot on. But there again we just didn't hardly get a shot.
Our pockets were inside out and those Pomo sharpshooters were kind enough to buy us beer till our ride came.
Those tribal men told us their style was based on cultural values.
The story goes that Pomos chose their chief by a persons ability to resolve differences in a peaceful and mutually beneficial way. Right there was a lesson for the learning.
The history of the Pomos had only one death in several hundred years.
The Pomos and another tribe had been arguing over the fishing rights of a stream near the Mayacamas Range in Northern California.
During a brief fight a young man fell in the stream, struck his head and died.
The argument stopped and the chiefs declared the stream sacred and from that point on no one would fish that stream. It still remains taboo to this day.
The tribes see life as sacred
What a lesson Jerry and I got that evening from the Pomo men. Not only in shooting pool but more importantly a lesson in life and what it really means to be a human.