In February of 2018, the blue fire flamed. It roared into life and burned blue brilliance for days— before slipping and sliding away. It remains in our minds where gnomes make their home, where the sweet fairy’s frolic and the unicorns roam. Legend has it, that the bridge will span seven years before the magic returns.
Here it is in February 2026 and the Lake’s the blue ice is piled in jagged shards near the shore. There are castles with dragons and unicorns to behold.
The number two position on “Off The Beaten Path’s Shoutout List” goes to: Humanitarian L. Ron Hubbard. His contributions to humanity are a colossal achievement of modern history. His writings have inspired and helped countless millions rise to greater heights.
I encourage everyone to support and help many of the grassroots organizations that this man’s care and writings have spawned. Some of these valuable assets include: Foundation For a Drug Free World, Narconon Drug Prevention and Education, The Way To Happiness Foundation and Citizen’s Commission On Human Rights. I have helped and participated in them all. They are a shining light in a world gone awry.
L. Ron Hubbard’s achievements are all well documented and available to anyone willing to help and be helped. I will not waste my time or anyone else’s by listing them. Look him up.
A huge shoutout to L. Ron Hubbard on this Eighth of February, 2026.
I was born writing poetry. Nothing has changed. I’ll die with a pen and pencil in hand.
My roots are deeply embedded in the my Native American Spirit where a poem is food for life itself. The rain, the river, the wind and a whole host of phenomena are all poets in the interwoven scheme of creation. They are all much better than I, yet I still try to put a cloud or a whippoorwill into words.
I know it is not a popular or exciting endeavor for most people, poetry is about as esoteric as escargot.
When I was young I discovered the words of Pablo Neruda. Of course, for us English speaking readers, the words are twice removed by the nuances of language, but still speak with the and tongues of our nature.
Those Days
The mists of the North and South left me a little westerly and so those days passed. Everything was at sea.
I certainly earned the title of a wandering gentleman; I wore every kind of hat, I knew racy women; I ate sand, I ate sardines, and I married from time to time.
But without claiming to be emperor or sailor, I must confess I remember the most friendly hurricanes, and confess that I die of envy remembering what I’ve lost, how rich I was and wasn’t, the hunger that kept me going, and those intruding shoes which never knocked at the door.
The great thing about joy is the split self it has. One doesn’t live in today alone– the present is a handbag with a contraband watch in it. Our heart is all future, our pleasure is over.
And so I shifted from course to course, in heat, in cold, in a hurry, and all I didn’t see I still keep remembering– all the shadows I swam in, every sea that took me in; I beat on all the stones, I lay down among thorns, and I had the natural honor of those not born to it.
I don’t know why I’m telling these things, these places, these moments, the smoke of those bonfires. Nobody really needs to tremble at alien earthquakes and truly nobody cares about anyone else’s youth. So I am not asking for pardon. I’m in my usual place. I have a tree with so many leaves that although I don’t claim immortality, I can laugh at you and the autumn.
The Sasquatch are all about vibrations. This creekside glyph, depending on our vibrational response, can tell them in an instant if our intentions are pure or deceptive. How attuned are you to the vibrational dimension and language of the Bigfoot? What does this glyph message they left behind say to you?
What would be your response?
*********************************************************************************************************I will disclose more about this particular glyph in a future post. It had a meaningful significance beyond the sense of humor of which I mistook it for at the time I encountered it near one of my favorite fishing holes.
*********************************************************************************************************”The Bigfoot Blueprint” A book of truths, fantasy and Conversations With Sasquatch.
Geckos are more entertaining to watch than TV. Certainly more interesting than a bunch of anarchists with their iPhone videos of themselves obstructing and harassing law enforcement. I have visions of the police armed with gecko tongues, making mighty quick work of the rioters who are acting lower on the livingness scale than cockroaches. So if you are a cockroach I hope the geckos are hot on your trail.
I see hope out there on the horizon where our shady past has folded its tent and surrenders to the future.
Like pure reason, this gesture has a specific gravity, something solid and tangible as a smile. It is here in this sacred concept that so many things flourish and truly belong and others that just plain shouldn’t be— like sirens shrieking and red lights flashing, rioters flinging curses and firebombs from the deepest dark of our human rights.
