There is this odd thing about me where I must always finish what I start. Must always keep my word. Must complete the circle
So what do I do?I listen to no one. I go to the servitude of being indentured because I must keep my word to an fbi person.he has cornered me; manipulated my conscience. And as I reflect on life and stand between the plains of life —I look at them in my mind. I see the ancestors in my mind abd I look around at the land imagining —the Russian-doll linage of a patchwork of so many cultures run through my retinal veins and
stand on the precipice thinking —my ethics are my moral compass which when I am stuck anywhere, this becomes my oracle for which I gauge. and then I think some more as I suspect there is something I still need to see here.something important, like the hinge which all else will make sense
….I am reflecting on the crossing paths of ancestral parentage. And why? because they left impressions ….yes through dna ….”memory” you see? the after-taste, the residual smears of which all traces never completely leave. We carry all this. and I think sometimes for some the gauge I speak of us a tool honed that has proven well to guide to….my next landmark stop
so close to Virginia. and I think it must be where the overlap occurred. You see, first it was layers of crossing hemispheres and then it was the other where one culture stewed in itself for centuries as it imagined power beyond a little island. I must complete the circle. I began this quest in search of what has propelled me
to search for ….it has been like fog to see through but I think it means I must not look with eyes but see with my inner vision what is true and who and why ….it has mattered
to leave a land of civilization in the 1600’s and go to a new world. to do it for what —power, wealth, religious freedom, to escape feudal law?or to build an uprising to avenge a royal blood feud?
I have said that I believe that our obsessions are from those unresolved dark horses that were never set aright in that origin to that DNA’s lifetime and —once we identify this affliction we may figure a course in which may lead us towards peace and resolution
I have a bag fetish. I have written before here how I think it is from having to be on the run through generations. The most necessary thing to have is a reliable method to transport your worldly goods. one day it occurred as I am constantly repairing my hiking backpacks like some inborn natural inclination I never consciously made —sewing, repairing my bags as preparation to leave; as armory; as combat mode hypnosis ….
Sometimes when I walk ….I can feel it in the swing of my hips and remember this same motion of walking endlessly for hours upon days upon days …,which I think is why I love to hike. It is my home I guess as I am more at ease between the worlds anyway
The heavy fossil I found in England as a student there with my class and now seems so long ago but seems it must have ensnared then, that day that I so poigentky recall —has made me look, search, research and look back again and again to recall my elusive, lost lineage —as key; as key to what —we search for as humans
they searched.
did we forget why or did we never think….or not think about why enough as it is easy to be lured into greed and lust and power
and repeat the things you ran way from
I think often about that Welsh lord whose bloodline landed them in a colony named after a queen who would have been his enemy and consider what a plantation would have meant to him and serving the crown then becoming a forefather of the country.
I think I understand why I turned out the way I am. I can trace an aristocratic lineage of Normans and Franks on one side of one —but a bastard—with —of whom crossed with a native Indian tribe and on another, a proud line from the tribes of the east which means I am made more tough from resilience and fortitude. I have worn it on my face, I look of all these things as I have never blended, especially not growing up in that house, but I learned to wear it like armor
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