Hearing the song of Grey

            She sings sweetly in my ear and I wonder if the words spring from her soul. I wonder if I could be her muse. I wonder if she is as delicate and as kind as her voice. What would life be like at her side? It is a lost dream, one destined to never be fulfilled. Life always brings the unexpected and the unexplained. We must not wait for the evil to consume us but must be vigilant in our defense with good and righteousness. Lost dreams can bring evil, or they can be used to fertilize the truth of reality, of passion sought and won. Don’t let her sweet voice be the symbol of a failed existence, but as the rallying cry of great things, the standard bearer leading the charge into the darkness of swirling futures with out certainty. The prize is only won after the race is complete. Run to win, but not for the prize for it is fleeting and will not bring the strength to continue winning. Race to win; race to build the strength to race again, and again and again…

            Life is grey. Life is a blend of the rich darkness of utter blackness bringing decay and chaos and the pure white of truth and perfection. But the grey is not evil; it is necessary. Grey is the dawning of the new day when the world is filled with solemn silence preparing for the release of potential. Grey is the cloud that brings the nurturing rains from which all life springs. Grey is the blur of movement across the screen of life. Grey is life lived without regret, but with pain and joy in abundance. Grey is the willingness to risk pain to gain joy and love and all things good. With out grey there would be no depths of shadows, no horizon to run towards. Without grey the world would be simple and simplistic and naive and utterly boring. But very safe. Very safe, indeed.

            So how do we wade through the complexities of greyness which pervades life at every turn? We walk gently and securely with one hand on the white staff of truth. We keep our heart pure filled with passion ready to act with compassion towards neighbor and enemy alike. Those with the eyes to see can pierce the foggy greyness with clarity of sight. Those with the eyes to see are not held by the cryptic nature of the ever present grey. Right action, right direction becomes crystal clear and impossible to escape. But those without the sight are lost and confused, dismayed at the actions of others. They are held captive by their own fear, their own guilt. They fail and fall deeper into the dark blackness which hides below the grey waiting to pounce on the unaware. They cannot move towards the light, towards the white. But one cannot reach the white until they have gained the sight to move safely through the grey. So seek the sight which brings life, brings insight, brings clarity of thought and action. Take it and use it. Gain the white.

Almonds in the Wind.

            When giants tread on the miniature villages of the little people who live far, far below, they never hear the screams. Not even if they listened intently could they hear the screams of the little people. For to them, the little people never exist. They can’t exist. It is impossible, incomprehensible for there to be anyone else but themselves. Giant are giants and there are only giants. Little people are not, cannot be.

So are you a giant or a little person? Do you walk with a might stride killing fields and acres with each compression of the foot on earth? Does the earth shake with your coming and exhale liquid death once you have passed? Or are you the forgotten lot, those who cannot be, yet are? Does it matter? Can it matter? Giants will never know, never see the little people and therefore never pay them any heed. No matter what the little people do, no edifice, no construct will ever be seen by the giants. No matter how grandiose the project may appear to the little people it pales in comparison to the might and length of the giants. And so, what to do?

“Ha,” you cry, “that is a false analogy, an untrue metaphor. You speak lies in order to deceive. I have never seen a giant.”

“Ha,” you cry, “that is a false analogy, an untrue metaphor. You speak lies in order to deceive. I have never seen a little person.”

So speaker, are you a giant so you can see none larger than yourself, or are you giant that cannot see the little people? Or are you a little person repressing the largesse about you? Or maybe you are right. Maybe I am crazy, confused, turned inside out and hung to dry on the willow tree that smells like almonds, planted in the vineyard of the gods in order to trap the sheep in a state of perpetual confusion. Are you confused; are you a lost sheep drawn to the scent of almonds?

Ha, Ha. Now I have you. 

Here is a story that I wrote some years ago. 

Copyright 2011 David Corbet

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Cascadia Mountains, A sample chapter from my new novel.

It was a calm evening in the lush forest in Washington State. A group of men and women were spread out on a hillside, resting. Some were napping in the shade, others talking quietly in small groups. All of them were decked out in camouflage clothing, but they were not soldiers, at least not the typical government sanctioned corporate sponsored killers. Their camouflage was marred with peace signs, psychedelic swirls and other symbols of their army: eco-warriors.  

Off in the distance was a continual buzz of chainsaws, diesel engines and heavy equipment hard at work. Every once in a while a loud crash of a falling mighty pine, old growth that took hundreds of years to grow, brought the quiet group back to reality. It took hundreds of years to grow a forest only to be destroyed by greed in a few short years. It was their mantra driven home by their great leader. When a tree crashed down he looked up from his magazine and made eye contact with individuals of his army, driving home the point of why they were gathered on this mountainside. It was time to strike back for the good of the planet.

Their rugged leader sat leaning against a tree. He was doing “research” reading a popular tech magazine. “This is a tragedy,” he stated out loud to no one in particular but all those near listened. “Who would want to live their days hiding in a black box imagining the world, instead of actually going out into it?” Disgust was evident in his voice. “We must do something to save the human animal from its own destructive ways. It is not enough to save Mother Nature and only some of her offspring. We must be willing to save them all.”

He threw the magazine down. The radiant woman sitting next to him picked it up. Her brunette hair was bunched into dreadlocks that fell halfway down her back, green army pants and a brown tank top hugging her curves. She flipped open to the page the great man sitting beside her was reading.  The piece was titled “Fantasy is Fiction No Longer: Technology finally delivers the final frontier where the mind meets reality.” An Op-Ed piece by Frank Church. She scanned the article for the highlights.

Their leader stood and stretched as he addressed the crowd, his army. “We are going to need to do something about this. We cannot allow humanity to go down this path. Someone has to be the consciousness of the masses. They have been blinded by the mass produced media driven corporate greed which now wants to turn us all into nothing but simpletons, slumbering away in dream boxes, in coffins. If that is our future then we might as well be dead. No, we must wake them. All of them! But before we can wake them we have to stop the machines that make them slumber. Technology is the bane of modern human existence. But we are the warriors to rid the world of this monster and free humanity once more to be human. It is not enough to stand on the wall and defend the wilderness, we must move the army into enemy territory and take back what is rightfully ours.”

Passion and life emanate from his very being as he spoke. His audience was captivated and on fire for action. His charisma led the way for others to follow and blindly they did, trusting this great man to reestablish the natural balance of the world.

If it was his timing or just coincidence as he finished his impassioned oration the last of the chainsaws in the distance died off. Soon after, they heard the sound of diesel engines from the work trucks firing up and then motoring off into the woods.

The leader looked across the hillside at his army, a ragged bunch that had stood by him time and time again. He also looked over the beautiful natural scene around him, pine trees standing majestic, brush and flowers dotting the hillside and all of it illumined by the setting sun. He looked down at the stunning beauty reading the magazine. “Nadia, when this job is done I have a special mission for you.” She looked up into his green eyes and nodded. She would do anything for this man.

“Ok Army it is time to go to work. Today we protect these precious life-giving woods. Tomorrow we move to protect the feeblest animal of them all from itself, the human animal. You know the drill: move down in your squads smash anything human made, but do not harm any humans that may still be around. Move quickly, be stealthy. Meet at the rendezvous as planned, code word is ‘lightening bug’”

The hillside suddenly came alive with movement. Small groups of camouflaged troopers moved off towards the clear-cut area ahead. Half an hour later they converged on the site where the cutting equipment was stashed. Soon a new sound emerged from the forest floor. Instead of man against nature it was the distinct sound of man against machine: metal upon metal, rock against glass. After a mishap that caused a small forest fire they learned to not burn the machines.  But after the night’s attack of destruction and sabotage they might as well have been burnt. 

With their mission done, the army slowly slinked off into the night. They would meet up later to toast another victory and end the night with a bit of carousing at their campsite near a natural hot springs.  The leader watched from the hillside. It went smooth, as he knew it would. But his eyes were not on the destruction below but rather on the false sunrise on the horizon, the lights from the city, which reached all the way out here in the forest. Those lights would have to be extinguished someday. 

All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2011

David Corbet

This is the final image I used for the book cover for my first ebook: Memoirs of a Super Criminal. It is available at Amazon and Barnes & Noble websites. The links at the top of the page can take you to either the kindle or the nook versions. Enjoy reading!

Published at Kindle and Nook

Memoirs of a Super Criminal is now available on the Kindle and the Nook. You can read sample chapters at either place and for more action there is a sample below.

Memoirs of a Super Criminal is now available on Amazon Kindle. I am working through the formatting to publish it on the Nook and at Smashwords. This has been a great adventure and a huge learning curve. Now onto another novel. What will it be? Check back for updates.