Excerpt from my new book - ATLANTIS

Later that night, a dangling light bulb flips on and illuminates a work table covered with books, supplies, and navigational equipment, set up by Bo in his mom’s garage. “This is ground zero for expedition #1 in search of the lost records of Atlantis.” Bo tells Sara. “Or as I like to call it: AT1.”
The Atlantis globe acts as a paperweight, holding open a detailed map of South America. Sara runs her finger along the coastline of the Yucatan. “It’s a pretty big place… where are you headed exactly?”
Bo draws a red circle around an area known for Mayan ruins. “Here, I think.”
“You think?”
“My dad was last seen there… so assuming he was getting close to finding something, then it seems like a good place to start.”
He really is going to look for his father, is the first thought that pops into Sara’s head. Her second thought is that this makes him more appealing than ever. She reaches around her neck and takes off a silver chain, with a small crystal tied to the end. “Don’t laugh,” she orders, dangling it over the map.
“Okay… what is it?” Bo asks.
“It’s a pendulum.” Bo still has no idea what she is talking about. “You ask it a question and if it spins to the right, it means “yes”, to the left means “no”. Bo raises an eyebrow and almost smiles. Sara shoots him a look. “I didn’t laugh at you, man from Atlantis.” He drops his smile and over-accentuates a serious face. Sara hands it to him. “Go ahead – hold it over the red circle.” He does. “Now close your eyes.” Bo almost rolls his eyes, but catches himself and closes them tightly. “Go ahead, ask it.”
“What exactly…?”
“Is this the right place?”
“Oh… got it.” Bo takes a deep breath. “Is this where I will find the lost records of Atlantis?” Bo squints one eye open, but there is no movement. “Well… so much for that.”
“Wait…” Sara places her hand on top of his, and closes her eyes. “Is this where Bo will find the lost records of Atlantis?” They wait a few seconds, but still nothing. Almost instinctively, Sara lays her other hand on top of the Atlantis globe, then again closes her eyes. The pendulum sways back and forth, slowly at first, then swings enthusiastically to the right. Bo is the first to notice.
“Sara?” She opens her eyes, and smiles big. “Wow… this thing could really come in handy.” Sara slips the chain around Bo’s neck.
“Take it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Tell him! The thought rushes into Sara’s head with such force, that she is worried Bo might be able to hear it. Tell him you want to go with him! But before she can form the words, he reaches for the Atlantis globe and hands it to her.
“Would you take care of this for me, while I’m away? It means a lot to me, and I don’t want my sister to get her hands on it.”
“Sure… of course

Turn off the news, and you will be amazed...

Turn off the news, and you will be amazed at how quickly you discover that most of what we believe about the world is projected to us through the airwaves by an industry that is designed, for profit, to fill our heads with as much fear and anxiety about the world as possible. Why? Because then, I will tune in for more later. Fear, as it pulses through our bodies, is like a drug. We have gotten so use to it, that when it lapses, just for a moment, we reach for another hit, because it feels so strange not to be in fear. It keeps us locked in a never-ending battle to find a way to win - something - so that I will feel safe again.

Ever had that feeling of waking in the morning, feeling unusually peaceful, then in a couple of seconds, the urge to turn on the morning news, to flip on the screeching talk radio hosts hits? Because, well - "I have to be informed", you say, "And something might have happened over night, and I have to see how the battle is going! I have to feed my belief that liberals are the evil, or that conservatives are the devil, that I am right, that they are wrong, I have to restore my identity and without this, who am I?" Basically - I NEED A HIT OF FEAR. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT TO BE AFRAID OF TODAY.

This strikes me, this morning, because for some reason, this great little coffee place in West Hollywood where I stopped in this morning, is running the local morning news, and the woman reporting on a "possible bank break in" on Ventura Blvd., is projecting with the urgency of nuclear attack, about this "possible event" that is snarling traffic, as if it is truly, the beginning of Armageddon.

In truth, there really isn't much to tell about this story - a possible break in at a bank, and police are there, investigating. Because of the police cars blocking off the area, there is quite of bit of traffic on the surface streets. Might be advised to avoid the area. End of story.

Fear. I have written about this before - but just cannot get it out of my head just how powerful this tool is, and how it is masterfully harnessed by our news media. I know people on all ends of the political spectrum, liberal, conservative, or in between, who keep themselves perpetually caught up in the media frenzy, and have built an entire reality in their heads around what they are being fed.

Interestingly, once you decide, for instance, that liberals are the enemy, or conservatives are the enemy, or Barrack Obama is the enemy, then you miraculously find an endless stream of information - "news" - that backs up your beliefs, and plenty of people willing to bend and distort any semblance of fact, to keep you listening. Every story takes on a spin that either proves that you are right, or they are wrong, and thus, you stay locked in a relentless battle.

To put it bluntly, most of us have turned over our own power of deduction, reasoning, and intuition, to a whole bunch of talking and screeching heads. We made the choice, and if we really want to, we can make a new choice.

Try this experiment: Go for a week without turning on the news or picking up newspaper, or scanning the web, and see what happens. Interestingly, if there is a piece of news that really is important to you, like, for instance, snarled traffic on Ventura Blvd., your route of choice in the morning, then, you will be amazed that this information finds you.

The most important thing about this experiment is breaking the cycle of fear that the media depends upon to keep you watching. Turn it all off for week, and you will begin to notice many things - your blood pressure will go down, your heart rate will slow, you will, believe it or not, find something that most of us rarely feel: Peace. The world will start looking less like a mind-field, and more like a meadow.

Perhaps most importantly, you will be taking back your life. You will no longer be living a relentless steam of reacting to what "they" say you should be afraid of, and instead, deciding for yourself. Over time, you begin to notice that your intuition is enhanced, your sense of well-being is expanded, and your peace of mind is restored.

And, instead of giving up your beliefs about the world, you will create space for them to expand, or change. To perhaps, see other sides, to consider, or understand counter opinions. Then, you just might be able to decide for yourself, what you choose to believe about the world and the humans who share this world with you.

I believe that we are in a time when taking back our power, and questioning everything that is presented to us, is necessary if we are to ever create real solutions to the biggest problems that still linger in our world. War, famine, corruption, bigotry, hatred, not to mention this persistent distrust that most of us have for any human who does not fit my pre-determined template of what it means to be trustworthy.

These problems, that have plagued us for eons, can be solved, but not until enough of us take back our power and learn to trust our own intuition, our own feelings, and make space for the real solutions, than can only come when we break the cycle of fear.

Excerpt from Atlantis

That night in her room, Lenara sleeps soundly in a low bed, painstakingly carved from a single piece of ancient wood into the shape of a sea serpent, wrapping itself around a soft sleeping pad. A circular picture window looks into a lit, underground canal, and a school of tiny fish cast a shadow on Lenara’s face. Moonlight streams from an overhead skylight and dances off of the intricately colored and textured, underwater scenes that cover the walls.

It is an impressive, terraced, stone and stucco structure that sits partially underground on a lush cliff side, overlooking one of the most beautiful, and prestigious canals in the city. Tonight, the clear skies and nearly full moon reflect on the sparkling water below, illuminating not only the house, but a cascade of falling water, and manicured vegetation that surrounds it.

Lenara wakes to a familiar tapping sound echoing from the canal. She opens her eyes to see Codi and Pak, her two favorite dolphins, staring in excitedly. Codi has a deep purple gemstone affixed to her forehead that protrudes just enough to make a rather determined tapping sound on the window, perfect for waking Lenara from even the deepest sleep. She smiles groggily. “It’s late…” but the dolphins, immune to time, squeal loudly. “Quiet!” Lenara urges. “Oh… okay, just one song.”

She reaches under her serpent bed, and pulls out a musical instrument made of polished coral and light, marbled wood. The strings sparkle in the moonlight as she lays it across her lap, and plucks out a simple, yet delightful song. The dolphins eyes glaze over as they sway back and forth, entranced by the dreamy music. When Lenara hits the final note, and the last of the sound penetrates into the canal, the dolphins protest. She knows what they want. “No… I’m not supposed to go out at night.”

The dolphins let out a sad squeal, and look forlornly through the glass at their dear friend, Lenara. They seem to know how to get to her. “Oh… all right.” The dolphins linger in the window, as if waiting for proof that as soon as they swim away, Lenara is not going to fall back to sleep. “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

Lenara slips on a snug fitting body suit and covers this with a long, heavy robe that conceals her face beneath a low hanging hood. She pauses to listen for any sign that anyone in the rest of the house is stirring. All is silent. She slips out of her room and into an interior courtyard, then lifts a trap door, and climbs downward, quietly closing the door on top of her.

A Whole New Way of Living

"I have spent my whole life trying to get up a mountain, and then I realize that when I reach the top, I just create another."

What if, everything that you have wanted is actually right here, in the garden? I realize that I have spent my whole life climbing mountains, taking a breath at the top, then saying "All right - what do I do now? Not sure - guess I better climb another mountain!"

This is my own personal reality that I am talking about here, of course, but it may apply to many of us. I have always felt that I came into this life with a purpose, something significant (at least to me, if not to others) that I am suppose to contribute.

As I grew I can see how my ego wrapped itself around this - and it turned into "Something that I should BE or something that I should DO" usually because I thought that others were expecting me to BE or DO something. Whew.

What a relief to be breaking this up. The whole world, and even our dearest friends and family are always willing to tell us who we are, what we should do, and who we should be. Some of this is real - they are really saying this - but most of it is just what we pick up along the way - and much of it is just what we choose to be true.

So over time, we take on the expectations of others, and then we wake up one day (maybe) and realize that "I never really had to be any of this."

I think some of this starts to happen as our parents grow older, and pass on. We pick up so much from them along the way, and sometimes it is not until they are gone that we can see that we have been trying, so hard, to fulfill whatever their expectations are of us.

Perhaps it is parents, peers, friends, or something we picked up while watching the hours of television that most of us grew up in front of. It really doesn't matter where it all comes from. What matters is that at some point, in our lives, we claim ourselves for ourselves.

That is true freedom. That is true joy. A bit scary perhaps, but really, we are all going to be gone in a hundred years, so why live life for someone other than yourself?

I think that the time that we are in - the changing of the planet, the expansion of consciousness that we are in the middle of, is providing the energy that we need to choose to CLAIM our lives for ourselves, and let go of the old way of living.

Obligations can go, love can flow in to take its place. I care for the people I love, not out of obligation, but out of love, out of the greatest responsibility to myself. AND I love myself enough to let go of the "should be's" and "supposed to be's" and settle down for a moment - stop trying to get somewhere, and look inside and ask - who am I really?

The answer is - I am really pretty cool. We are all really, pretty damn cool.

Faith, Fear, and my Simple Thoughts

As the debate on gay marriage continues to move across the country, and around the world, I am here at what for me is ground zero - California. As I watch people debate this issue, they often use "faith" as a reason for objecting to this right. For some people, these are just words. They do what their preacher tells them, and they don't really think beyond that. They react to what is being presented as threat to their faith, and they do what they are told to do.

For others, I think it goes deeper. They have come to believe that a part of their faith, perhaps a part of their life is changing and for most humans, fear sparks immediately. This fear is harnessed by others in fear, preachers, and church leaders, who are afraid of losing something too.

Truly, there is nothing new here. Humans hold onto as much "sameness" as we can, for as long as possible, usually never letting go until it becomes either too painful to hold on anymore, or we realize that what we are holding onto, what we are fighting against really isn't the threat we believed it to be.

Fear simply attaches itself to whatever the easiest target may be at a particular time. Or, better said, I allow fear to attach itself to whatever they tell me should be the latest target of my fear. I have a choice in the matter, but most of us forget that part.

This is where I could be accused of seeing the world in far too simple a way, but for those of you who have children, you know, that seeing the world in simple terms really cuts out a lot of the noise and baggage that we grown up humans carry with us.

I have decided this: That if there is one thing that God would want from us humans, it is to expand compassion, and love here on this planet. I just need to say that again for myself: If there is one thing that God would want from us humans here on this planet, it is to expand compassion and love.

Certainly God is more aware than we are, that every bit of pain and struggle and suffering that we humans have inflicted upon ourselves over eons of time has come from resisting love, and giving over to fear.

Too simple, perhaps, but I don't think so. Imagine, just for a moment, if with every decision, every choice that we make, gay marriage included, we ask ourselves, is my decision expanding love and compassion, or restricting it? Is my decision helping to allow humans to deepen our relationships, to care for each other, to love in a grander way, or is it trying hard to control, limit, or restrict?

This goes way beyond gay marriage, and it gets into fairly new territory for most of us humans. If we are to try this out, we will have to learn to trust ourselves. We will have to learn to trust our hearts, our own feelings, and tune out the noise around us. We will have to begin to take responsibilty for what we feel inside. And if what I am feeling feels like my heart is constricting, then I have a responsibility to myself to move away from that as quickly as I can.

We need only to feel our own hearts, and begin to trust our own feelings, to begin to live a life that is free of being at the whim of a million other voices, or the one who has the loudest rant, or the one who I have decided "knows better than I"

Perhaps, finally, we can stop tuning into the thousands of cable news pundits on any side of any issue, and simply ask ourselves, how does this feel to me? Does compassion, feel better, than fear, fighting, and battle?

Have you noticed how most of the radio hosts, cable news pundits, and truly most of the politicans and preachers are encouraging us to be afraid - to fight and battle and protect and hold on to what we have? Can this really be healthy? Doesn't your own intuition, and certainly your own heart tell you that living in fear, just doesn't feel good?

I recently attended services for a dear friend who died at 96 years old. Maxine lived through multiple wars, and spoke of how she use to monitor the skies over the Oregon coast for enemy planes during WWII. She lived through the civil rights movement, a time when courageous humans made a collective choice that, yes, black people are equal and should be equal under the law, despite those who proclaimed otherwise, and even used they faith to justify their beliefs. She was already in her 60's during the sexual revolution, and when she saw presidents die, riots in the streets, and men walking on the moon. And she experienced the loss of more people who she knew and loved in her life than I can even imagine, including a grandson who was gay, and died of AIDS.

Yet, to the end, even though she faced so much continuous change, and even though I don't know that she consciously made the choice to do so, she seemed to always choose her heart.

She discussed issues, she faced her own prejudices, even her own fears. She grew up in a time well before the black civil rights movement, and made the choice to release old beliefs that didn't feel good, rather than cling to them. She worked, she cooked, she fed anyone who was hungry, and she left a legacy of love. She wasn't what you would call a saint, and "thank God for that, Marty!" I can hear her whisper in my ear even now. To all of us who knew her, she loved without condition, and she had a hell of a life, dying very peacefully, and I believe, feeling complete.

A lesson, to me, of what it feels like to move through life choosing to trust your heart, and not to fall into fear. To see life as an ever-changing adventure, rather than something to be afraid of. To not spend life fighting, and defending, and protecting what you think is yours, but to share.

And I suppose, I may be too simplistic once again, but I have to ask, If God wants anything from us, isn't it this?

Another excerpt from Atlantis

THE SUN IS WARM on Sam’s shoulders as he walks through a saturated, brilliantly colored field of yellow daisies, touching them with his hands as he goes. The therapist’s voice overlays the scene as if she is watching from above.
“Do you feel the breeze?” she asks.
“Yes.” Sam replies, as if he is both a watcher in this dream, while at the same time living it.
“And the warmth of the sun?”
“Yes.”

In what we would call the “real” world, Sam lays on a recliner in the therapist’s office, traveling deeper and deeper under hypnosis. He is indeed feeling the breeze while he walks through the field of daisies, and he is indeed feeling the warm sun on his shoulders. All of this, while Susan observes his every move, and does her best to guide him to the source of his increasingly intense nightmares, and now daytime visions.

“Up ahead of you, there is a very tall hedge. Do you see it Sam?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Walk to it.” He does. “This hedge is so tall, and long, that you can’t see over it, or around it. But there is a door. Do you see it?”
“Yes. I see it.”
“What does it look like?”
“It’s… heavy wood. Ancient. It has Iron hinges and an iron handle.”
“Can you run your fingers over the wood and tell me what it feels like?”
“Smooth… smooth and weathered.”

“Very good Sam. Now, in a moment I am going to ask you to open this door, and when you do, the message that is trying to come through will be on the other side, waiting for you. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“Good. Now, when you’re ready, take hold of the handle, and push the door open just a bit.”

Sam in the recliner feels his heart speed up, as Sam in the field of daisies reaches for the door handle. He pulls and the door opens a crack. It’s heavy. He can feel the weight of the millennia-old wood in his hand. He pulls it open a bit more and a brilliant white light streams through. “It’s open. I opened it.”
“What do you see?”
“Nothing… just light… white light.”
“Take a step through the door Sam. There is nothing on the other side that can hurt you.”

But Sam, both Sam’s, feel a wave of fear rush over them. Sam in the recliner is sweating and breathing rapidly. “I can’t. I can’t do it.” Sam at the door, turns back, looking for an escape, but the field of daisies melts away. Then, a voice.
“It’s all right… I’m with you. There is nothing to be afraid of.” The shape of a woman materializes in the doorway and reaches her hand through. It is Miria. “Take my hand.”

The fear melts out of Sam as he once again finds trust in a pair of brilliant green eyes. I know you… I remember you… he thinks to himself as he takes her hand, and she pulls him gently toward her. He wants to embrace her, to feel her arms wrapped around him. He aches for it. But before he can reach her, she melts away. “It’ll be all right my love…” and the air around him grows hot. The white light turns to a fiery red, and the sound of a million humans crying out for help fills his senses. He screams.
“No…no… no!”

HEALING TEMPLE, ATLANTIS. All is dark. A man cries out. Susan’s voice filters through. “Where are you Sam?”
Miria’s voice overlays. “It’ll be all right my love.”
The man, Atar, lies on a stone table, covered by a soft, white linen cloth. On his face, a mask formed out of a single piece of clear quartz crystal, carries the images that flash in his head - a fiery red sky, and a city in the midst of destruction. Miria lays her hand over the mask, and the images fade. She lifts it from his face, and he opens his eyes, squinting at the bright sky overhead, dotted with pure white clouds. They sit in the center of a circular temple, lined with columns, and open to the elements.
“Is it the same dream?” she asks gently.
“Yes.”
“And the city is falling?”
“Yes.”
“Many are coming to me with similar visions.”
“Mass hysteria.” Atar responds, as he sits up and stretches.
“Are you hysterical?” Miria snaps back.
“At times.” He smiles, and gently touches her face. “Can you help me be rid of these dreams?”
“There’s something you’re not seeing.”
“And what would that be?”
“Something you don’t want to see.”

ATLANTIS - The Adventure Begins...

This morning, I got a call from a friend of mine, Don Marr, an extremely talented writer, who was one of the first kindred spirits I met who shared my fascination with this long lost civilization, called: Atlantis. He had an idea. "Why don't you put some of the story of ATLANTIS on your blog, so that others can enjoy it, in it's current stage of development, as much as you are?" My response was, "I was thinking the same thing." And I was. So now, from time to time, I will be posting excerpts from ATLANTIS the first book in a trilogy which I am writing, called, The Atantis Trilogy. I hope that you will enjoy it, and comment if you would like to see more. And yes, this is copyrighted material.


THE BRITISH ISLES, PRE-HISTORY

A thatched roof hut sits nearly hidden among overgrown trees on the edge of a steep, rocky cliff that drops to the churning ocean below. From inside, the cries of a woman in childbirth ring through the air. In the water, a pod of dolphins circle relentlessly, then pause, and erupt in celebratory squeals and leap into the cool, night air. From the hut, a new born baby cries.

Just before the morning sun rises, Miria, a striking woman with flowing red hair and brilliant green eyes, kneels on the edge of a natural rock pool in a clearing. She is draped in a frayed cloth, and gently dips her newborn baby boy into the crystal clear water. She lifts him to sky, and looks into his own green eyes. “Goddess?” she whispers, “How can I reach him?”

Streams of white light materialize in the air, then dance around the child’s tiny body. He giggles. The light jumps into the pond and forms an image: Sam Madison, a seemingly average, middle aged man, lays in bed in the middle of a nightmare. “My son! I want to see my son!” He calls out. As if to comfort him, Miria runs her hand gently across the surface of the water, the ripples caressing his face.

“Know that your son is well, my love.” she replies “When you wake from the dream, you’ll remember who you are.” With her final word, the water grows turbulent and the man’s face dissolves into a dark and foreboding image: Burning debris swirls through a fiery red sky, and the sound of a million terrified human cries rises. A bolt of lightning strikes, illuminating an endless stream of confused and angry faces. Another bolt of lightning, and a towering, black obelisk is awash in light.

Finally, a man, holds an unconscious young woman in his arms, and weeps. He wipes blood from her face. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

WASHINGTON DC, MODERN DAY

Sam Madison struggles through a nightmare. “My son! I want to see my son!” his teenage daughter, Sara, hurries to his bedside and kneels down next him.

“Dad?” He doesn’t wake. “Dad!” she shakes him. He opens his eyes slowly. The images and sounds in his head do not let go easily as he searches the room for signs of familiarity. Sara flips on an overhead light, and he nearly leaps out of bed.
“Geez! What are you trying to do, blind your old man?”
“Sorry!” Sara snaps back. Sam tries to smile. He sits up and catches his breath. In the light, he has the look of a man who hasn’t slept well in weeks, dark circles growing under his bloodshot eyes.

“Thanks for coming to my rescue again, Sara.”
“They sound like they’re getting worse.”
“Nothing some better drugs can’t handle.” Sam reaches for a bottle of prescription pills on the bedside table. It sits atop a pile of post-it notes crawled with equations. Sara is not amused by her father’s attempt at humor.
“Do we need to talk about something here?” She asks.
“Uh… I already told you, you are not dating until after you get your PHD.”

“Very funny,” Sara replies, not giving up, “It’s just that lately, whenever you have these dreams you keep yelling about your son.”
“I don’t remember that…”
“I am an only child, right?”
“As far as I know…” Sara rolls her eyes. Sensing her frustration, he reaches for her hand and gently gives it a tug.
“Hey, I’m sorry I keep waking you up.”

“What do you remember?” Sara asks. Sam lets out a sigh, clearly evading the question.
“Oh… not much.”
“I don’t believe you.” Sara stares him down. Sam gives in, just a bit, and searches his memory.
“Well… fire. Smoke.” He suddenly grabs his head as it throbs in pain. “And these damn headaches.”
“That make you grumpy all day.”
“Yeah… those.” Sara waits for the pain to subside, then continues her prodding.
“What else do you remember?” Sam winces, this time not from the real pain in his head, but from the image that flashes behind his eyes.
“Faces. Angry faces.”
“What are they angry about?”

“I… I don’t know Sara.” She stares him down again.“Me. All right? They’re angry at me, and then...” He swallows hard when the man holding an unconscious young woman returns to his head. This time, the girl wears the face of Sara. “That’s it.” He blurts out, popping a pill into his mouth. “That’s all I remember.”
“No, it isn’t,” insists Sara.

“Yes, it is. Now lets try and get some sleep while it’s still night.” Sara wants to keep pushing, but she can tell when her father has reached his limit. These nightmares have been going on for months, and what she has not expressed to her father, is that she is tired of coming to his rescue, and she is bothered by the fact that he has come to expect her to be by his side when he opens his eyes. The least he can do is tell her the whole story. She goes to the door, but stops, and turns back.

“Did you call the therapist I told you about?”
“No.” replies Sam.
“Why not?”
“Because… I can handle this Sara.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” Sam shoots back, “The last thing I need is a shrink.” Sara spins around, walks out of the room, and slams the door behind her.

“Sara… Sara!” Sam tries to get up and go after her, but his head throbs. He sinks back into bed, and just as the pain in his head subsides, his alarm goes off sending a piercing electronic tone through his brain. He grabs a pillow and covers his ears.