I am a shadow in a window,
 looking out—yearning with
 the living land. I shed a tear
 of sorrow—; pause, wander
 on, thinking: I could have
 done—should have done,
 would have done (but had
 unresponsive hands); now
 I return to the ghostly sea!
 It is all that is left of me…!
 All I am to anybody, just a
 memory of a shadow.
 

#1289 3/24/2006. We are what we are, and what we become, is what we are, and why would we not be? Salvation is saving the soul, not combing it to a polished glow; that is what we are suppose to be doing now. Do you think you’re going to die and then do the polishing? If so, we might just as well eat everyone up now, and do the polishing later, what does it matter then? Perhaps that is why I like archeology, psychology, anthropology, and sociology, so much, it dissects not only the past and present, but the emotions, of a cross cultural world from the beginning of time to its present, to the future, around the globe. Such people like me, dissect shadows, for the most part. I will be going back into the Peruvian Jungles soon, into the Amazonas, about 1000-miles from Peru, here is where all the …ology’s come into play, where time and its bricks, its shadows seep into me like osmosis. People often wonder how we became what we are; I always oversimplify the issue, or is it concept: simply look behind you; the reason is usually there. It is like telling someone, “I can’t figure out why I’m so sad,” when in essence, you need only to go back a day or two, or three, and see what happened, and you will discover the source real swiftly—usually.

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