Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
If you are not familiar with smashwords.com it is a pretty awesome site. They offer ebooks in most ebook formats. They do a good job in centralizing all the various ebook providers into one location. Not a bad idea. I have two books uploaded there. They also offer coupons which is another great idea. Watch for upcoming coupons for my books: One Year in the Mountains and Memoirs of a Super Criminal.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
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.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
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
Sunday, September 25, 2011
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
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