"The Sacred Writings on the Ancient Scrolls"

“The Sacred Writings on the Ancient Scrolls”

Chapter One: “The Sacred Scribble”

Long, long before the explosion of events that created this mess, was that one moment that actually gave seed to my participation in this prophecy.
It truly, all started in elementary school. Everyone was in a flutter over some poem about roses. You remember the one; part of it read: “A Rose by any other name would still smell as sweet” or something like that. Anyway, at that very moment I knew that I wanted to be a Writer. And I knew that I too could write a poem about a rose, and maybe everyone would be in a flutter over me. So I wrote this: “A rose is a rose, it has no nose. It has some arms and it has some toes. It has an eye in the middle of his head. And you find a rose in a flower bed.” (What) I was in elementary school. I couldn’t have been more than, what two or three years old. Give me a break.
Anyway; needless to say, my mother wasn’t as impressed as I was about my creation. (At the time, I thought I was a genius!) However; her faked enthusiasm was sufficient enough to inspire me to be a writer, and continue annoying people with my wit for many years to come. I guess I should thank her for that, and probably apologize to the rest of you.
Well, so that’s how it all started. From that moment on, I have had this endless, ever-changing melody in my head that continuously draws letters together. It’s down-right annoying! But, we all have our burdens to bear. So, lets just fast forward to how I ended up at the Museum.
My uncle was head of security for the East Wing and Central Wings of the Museum. And, since most of my family didn’t see my Career Strategy as an active and workable plan, they thought it would be best if I pre-occupied my time on a regular basis with what they like to call “A Real Job”.
So, I accepted the position as Security Guard, and asked Uncle Dean to let me bring certain supplies with me to work. This way, I could keep pursuing my life’s work and my dream of being a Creative Writer. He kindly accepted, as long as it didn’t interfere with my responsibilities at the museum.
So, with my new routine of a 10:00 P.M. to 6:00 A.M. shift at the Museum, there seems to be some new peace to my existence. You see, this fits perfect in my life’s natural cycle since I sleep most of the day anyway. I also found that I do some of my best writing at night. My brother; Dennis, said that’s because it’s the only time I’m awake. He may have a point, but that has never been a good enough reason to admit he’s right. I prefer to think of it as, existing within my natural rhythm.
I am the kind of person that needs routine in my life because my mind is always so pre-occupied with my writing. I would forget my pants if my subconscious ever failed me. Luckily, I have my blind dog; Squirrel, to help me stay on my routine. Don’t let the blind dog thing fool you. Squirrel is smart as a whip. He knows my routine better than I do. And he will rudely let me know if something isn’t right. Usually, by growling at me and then biting me on my ankles. He’s smart, but sometimes he’s not very nice.
Everyday, Bessie, Squirrel and I, arrive at work at 9:50 and settle in at our post. (Bessie is my guitar) I was assigned to the East Wing, Ancient Artifacts Division. It’s located in a cozy corner next to the Mummy’s and Egyptian Artifacts. The lighting wasn’t very good though. So, I managed to prop a mirror among some clay pots to reflect some light on my notebook. This way I could write more legibly. The pots were really old, so I was very careful. But I was hoping they wouldn’t mind a few scratches on them.
There was never any excitement at night except for when Karl stopped by. He was the Curator for the Museum across town. He would always show up when we got a new shipment in. Everyone knew that the only way his Museum would receive any good artifacts, was when he intercepted them from us. That’s because our Museum was in charge of assigning the different artifacts to the smaller Museums throughout our city. Unfortunately, the other Museums would only receive the artifacts that our Curator didn’t want. We all knew it wasn’t fair, and so with the cooperation of everyone involved; except our Curator, we would let Karl take what he wanted. Luckily for us, until the Artifacts were logged in at our Museum, our Curator thought they were still in route. I think he’s still waiting for a tomb from some guy name Tutt. Karl said it has been a huge attraction.
I remember the night when it all started. Some people refer to it as “The Fulfilling of the Prophecy”, others call it “The Second Cycle of the Temple Moon”. I call it “The night Uncle Dean made me work late”.
When Bessie, Squirrel and I arrived at work that night, Uncle Dean told me that Charlie would be late to relieve me. Charlie was the Security Guard that arrived at 6:00 A.M. and worked during the day. So, I doubled checked my supplies. I had my Guitar, notebook, two pens, a big lunch that Aunt Barbara made for me and my trusty dog, I was well prepared. So, I told Uncle Dean that it was no problem.
Tragedy soon followed though! Just one hour into my shift, I noticed that my notebook only had one sheet of paper left. Only one! I immediately started writing smaller to conserve space and eventually abbreviated every word I wrote that had more than two letters. Still, there was no way I could record my thoughts for six more hours without a miracle.
Then I remembered seeing some cardboard in shipping. I rushed over to shipping and I ripped a piece of cardboard from the corner of a box. Then I hurried back to my post and more importantly, to the song I was writing.
It was cumbersome trying to write, while balancing that cardboard on my lap. So I relocated to a table that was recently set-up for a temporary exhibit. I carefully removed the glass cover because it was too tall to write on, and I placed it off to the side. Then I placed my cardboard on the table to finish my song. My dog; Squirrel, started pitching a fit. He was growling and snapping at my heels. He knew this wasn’t part of my normal routine and he was letting me know. I finally calmed Squirrel down and continued with my work.
I was so happy when I finished that song. I couldn’t wait to read the words that I so carefully selected. I started playing the song on Bessie and slightly dancing beside the table as I read; first from the note book and then from the cardboard and then, oh no!
I noticed that the last verse was missing. I looked down and noticed that there was some cloth on the table, covering an old parchment. Part of the parchment was sticking out and I noticed that it was the same color as the cardboard. I then noticed my missing verse on the parchment. This couldn’t be good!
I would have broken out in a panic, but the energy was drained right out of me when I saw a description of the artifact attached to the front of the table. As I pulled back the cloth, I read “Sacred Scroll of the Zhang Zhung tribal People”. As I read on I noticed certain words that stood out in the description like Ancient, Priceless and Irreplaceable.
The slightest instance of hope came over me when I thought, they may not notice. But this thought quickly fleeted while I gazed upon the black ink radiating from the parchment. Curse my Uni-ball, Ever Flow, Sure Grip Pen. Curse it I say! I quickly realized, I didn’t mean that. I like my Sure Grip Pen.
I knew that the best thing to do was put everything back in its proper place, move far away and change my name. Instead, I decided to point out my mistake to Uncle Dean and faced the music, no pun intended.
Uncle Dean was amazingly nice about it. We both knew that our Curator; Mr. Winke, wouldn’t be so understanding. Mr. Winke or Winkie as I like to call him is a very … interesting person. I’m only saying that to be polite. Truly it seems that his only goal in life is to get more and horde what he’s got. He is the kind of person that would stand on his own Mothers’ feet, to avoid a puddle. He also tends to over-react. One time a foot was missing from the Caveman Exhibit and rumor is, he replaced it with one from the staff. (What) it’s just what I heard.
Anyway, so we all knew that Winkie would pitch a fit. However; no one expected this to be an International incident. But that is exactly what it was.
Immediately upon notifying the Zhang zhung, a representative from the Tribal Council arrived and quickly covered the Scroll. The area was roped off and a Police officer was given orders to stand guard. All eyes were forbidden to look upon it, and I was forbidden to reveal what I had written. We were informed that the Tribal Chenrezig; or Spiritual Leader, was the only one that could read from and interpret the writings on the Ancient Scroll. And these writings can only be revealed on the day of the Temple Moon’s second cycle.
You see; the Ancient Scroll was recently brought to our country, to bring witness to a Sacred Tradition that has never been observed by other religions. This tradition is performed only once every twelve and a half years; or as some might say, during the Second Cycle of the Temple Moon.
The Temple Moon only appears when a cluster of stars in the shape of a crown, is accompanied by a Full Moon. It takes a little over six years and 3 months for the stars to align properly. When this happens the Temple Moon appears. Every twelve and a half years; during the second cycle of this event, the Temple’s Chenrezig; or Holy Leader, reads from the Ancient Scrolls and interprets the predictions. His interpretations are what sets the laws and New Traditions for the Tribal Council and can affect the daily lives of all its religious members for many years to come. (I hope my mishap doesn’t put him in a bad mood). Upon conclusion of his interpretations, He spends the remainder of his life gathering the wisdom for the three verses that he must add to the Scroll. These verses are to be read and interpreted by the Chenrezig, from the second generation of his passing.
The Chenrezig, is also none by more modern groups as the Dalai Lama. However; the Zhang Zhung Tribal people adhere to the strictest of traditions, including only writing in the traditional Sanskrit Devanagari Script, and speaking the Traditional Tibetan language of Zangwen. The remote isolation of the Zhang Zhung people has helped to preserve their traditions for thousands of years. You can find them nestled in the southern region of the Kunlun Mountain range about 16,000 feet above sea level, not that far from Lhasa; Tibets Holiest City.
Before I knew it, the F.B.I. and Homeland Security were there, along with the Local Police. It looked like a Badge Convention. They were trying to figure out the best action to take, to avoid insulting the Chenrezig and the Zhang Zhung people and avoid causing International tension. So they thought the best thing to do was to place me under arrest and lock me up. It wasn’t my first choice. I was hoping a sincere apology and maybe a couple of goats would be sufficient restitution. (I just mentioned the goat thing to relieve some tension. The Officers were looking stressed!) I guess I didn’t appreciate the severity of my situation. And the Police Officer didn’t seem to appreciate my offer of livestock. So he cuffed me and hurled me into the back of his car.


Chapter Two:
“Justice is Served” with a side dish of “What was that”

When I finally arrive at the Police Station to see the Magistrate, I thought he would be a little more compassionate. After all, this was just an honest mistake with no ill intentions. However, he seemed to take it personally. He refused to give me a bond amount and told me that I would be held in isolated confinement until my court date. I was not permitted to talk to anyone except my Court Appointed Attorney. And to make things worse, I was not allowed to keep my guitar with me, my notebook was confiscated as evidence, and my dog; Squirrel, had to go home with my Uncle. (How Rude!)
During the Magistrates briefing and brow beating, a young man named Chauma entered the room. He was the Grandson of the active Chenrezig. He walked straight up to me and gave me a hug. He then smiled at me, turned and left the room without saying a word. Before the Magistrate could finish explaining to me what my limitations were, an officer rushed into the room and told the Magistrate that I was to be released immediately and brought to Judge Stillner’s Chambers. The Magistrate seemed disappointed that he wasn’t able to participate in my punishment. But he followed instructions and told the officer to take me away.
When I arrived at the Judge’s Chambers it seemed like the world was standing still, waiting for me to catch up. There were several people in suits standing beside the judge’s desk staring at me. Chauma was sitting on a couch with a gorgeous girl on each side of him wearing a beautiful native dress. And a lovely lady in a suit was walking towards me with her hand out. She introduced herself as Ms. Bloom; my Court Appointed Attorney. She assured me that she was going to make this mess go away as quickly as possible. Then she turned toward the judge and started pitching for my release. The Prosecuting Attorney jumped right in and told the judge that due to the sensitive nature of the information written on the scroll, I should be isolated from all contact and confined until my court date.
The Judge turned to me and started scolding me for creating this situation. He then told me that I would be released into my Uncle’s custody and confined to his ranch. He informed me that I was under a gag order. I was not allowed to speak to anyone except my attorney regarding this matter. And, I was not to reveal any writings that may appear on the Scrolls to anyone, including my attorney. He also informed me that my court date would be expedited due to the sensitive nature of the situation. And that, he would like to have this case resolved before the “Ceremony of the Reading” which was scheduled in 17 days.
Ms Bloom thanked the judge and then rushed me out of his chambers. She told me that she would be by the ranch tonight to discuss my case. Then she reminded me, I was not to speak to anyone especially the Press and I was confined to the ranch.
I assured her that I understood, and I grabbed Bessie and Squirrel and headed home. I wasn’t able to retrieve my notebook or my Sure Grip Pen. I was told, these items would be held as evidence until the hearing.
So to avoid anymore problems, I headed directly to a store to pick-up another notebook. After all, you remember what happened last time I ran out of paper. And of course, then I headed straight home.
I was residing in a comfortable, loft type dwelling above a huge barn. It was located about two acres behind the main house on my uncle’s ranch. It was hypnotically peaceful, with an orchestra of nature to accompany me on my balcony. I would begin a new song with each sunset. My melody was driven by the rhythm of my surroundings as I tried to blend in with nature by performing a subtle harmony. I would always feel a sense of accomplishment when the deer would come closer and listen while they fed. Sometimes, I feel that my nights only begin the journey to my next sunset.
The sunset was nearing as I drove up to the ranch. I could almost feel the soft cushions on my balcony swing. It reminded me of the words: “Precious; such thoughts that bring us peace, so fragile a thing to strengthen the soul”. Unfortunately, my soul would have to wait because I had company. There was a stretched Limousine parked next to the barn. Chances are, it wasn’t Publishers Clearance House Sweepstakes and I sure wasn’t feeling like a winner. Whoever it was, I could see upon getting closer that they have already made themselves at home on my balcony.
As I parked my truck, I noticed the strangest sound. I assumed that it was some type of music, with a man’s voice performing some kind of graceful moaning in the background. What ever it was, I started feeling a little sympathy for the livestock. Poor cows won’t be coming home if they keep that up.
I slowly climbed the stairs with Bessie and Squirrel, not knowing what to expect till I saw Chauma. He was that nice man from the police station. I figured he had a lot to do with my release. I carefully set Bessie in the corner and started walking toward him. He jumped up and gave me a hug. (Must be a tribe of huggers) I then noticed those two beautiful ladies that were with him at the Police Station. Now, the hugging thing didn’t seem to be such a bad idea. But before I could greet the ladies properly, Chauma led me over to a tribal member playing the instrument. While I watched him play I realized why it was making me dizzy. It sounded like someone bathing a bobcat with a wire brush. And it looked as much fun as tickling a bear. The young man seemed to be trying to hard, and having a hard time trying.
So, I gestured to him to let me try his instrument because I didn’t think they spoke English. He quickly stood up and bowed with his instrument held out in front of him. This startled me for a second, but I could see that he meant me no harm. I took the instrument and gestured for him to sit back down. I then stooped on one knee in front of my new friend, and placed the instrument on my other knee.
I played one bar chord to feel the sound of the instrument, and then started playing a slower melody than he was playing that seemed to blend in with the mood of the Robin’s singing in the trees nearby. It was almost haunting how easily the rhythm flowed, and, how it perfectly harmonized with our surroundings. As Nature grew louder and drew closer, I felt for the first time that I was fixing to be invaded. I didn’t want crickets, birds and other critters inside my house, so I stopped playing.
Chauma said; I knew you could play, I saw it in a dream. I said; you can speak English. He told me that he went to College in America as predicted in the Readings. He said he was sent to welcome me into his tribe and thank me for my contribution. I said: What contribution, I accidentally wrote on your scroll. He said there are no accidents, and my journey started long before the writings on the scroll.
He then told me that soon I would fear my journey. I shall face the beast alone, surrounded by the voice of many. And through judgment will bring enlightenment. I said; what? Excuse me; I didn’t catch that last part. There was something about “Fear” and “A Beast”. He told me that soon I would understand.
He hugged me again, smiled at me and then started walking toward the door. The beautiful girls in native dresses followed him out. I just stood there with my arms out, hoping to get a good bye hug from them too. They just smiled, blushed and giggled as they walked down the stairs. The young man with the instrument, hurried behind them while bowing to me constantly, refusing to turn his back toward me. I just bowed back at him and smiled. As I watch the lovely ladies exit the barn, I could feel my dog; Squirrel, had a mouth full of my blue jeans and he was pulling on my leg. I guess it must be dinner time.
When I turned, I saw two men in suits on my balcony. As I hurried toward them I said, how did you get up here? Then I noticed a fat man in a suit trying to climb up the side of the balcony. I said: Oh, I see. As I turned back toward the two men, one of them was speaking of a proposition. He said he was sent to retrieve some information. Then he started describing great riches, a New Identity, Travel anywhere I wanted to go. Right then we heard the fat man hit the ground with a huge thud, accompanied by the garbage cans he obviously used to break his fall. I said: Sir what do you want? He said: We need to know what is on that scroll. I said: Sure, but you will have to O.K. it with the Judge and the Zhang Zhung Tribal people first. They seem to take great heart in this matter. He said: No, you don’t understand.
Suddenly we heard a lady’s voice coming from inside my apartment calling my name. It was my Court Appointed Attorney. The thugs hurried off the side of the balcony and said: We will be in touch. I said: Don’t touch that it’s Poison Ivy. He quickly took his hand off the rail of the balcony and started falling backward. He grabbed his partner and both of them went to the ground. With another big thud accompanied by garbage cans, my Attorney walked onto the balcony and said: Who was that? I said: Just some thugs that wanted to know what was on the scroll. Then I walked into the kitchen to start dinner. She followed me and anxiously asked: You didn’t tell them anything did you? I was scraping some Chicken Parmesans and noodles onto a plate and then pushed it into the microwave and said: Well yea, I told them that I would tell them anything they wanted to know as long as the Judge and the Zhang Zhung people were alright with it. She exhaled in relief and said: Good, I thought you were going to say--- and then we looked at each other and smiled. I took the chicken out of the microwave and placed it on the floor in front of Squirrel. And then I asked if she would like to join me for dinner. I could tell that she thought I was fixing that plate for myself. She said sure, I guess that would be alright. So I grabbed a couple of Hot-Pockets out of the freezer and pushed them in the microwave. She said: You feed your dog Chicken Parmesans and you eat Hot Pockets. I said: Yea, can you believe my dog don’t like Hot Pockets. She just smiled and followed me back onto the balcony.
After our dinner snack, she commented on how peaceful it was on my balcony. She mentioned that she loved going to the country because it reminded her of some of the happiest times in her childhood. She said that every summer, her and her sister would go to their Uncle’s farm. She spoke of one year when she was able to feed some deer straight from her hand. She spoke of the swing at the river where they use to swim and then she paused. I could feel the absence of something very special, when she said: “She missed going the farm”. The lack of closure was obvious in her voice. And although I knew I could never fill the void, I grabbed her hand and I told her that she is always welcome to visit here. Then I said: I think you will like this. I walked her over to the railing of the balcony and I told her to watch the tree line. I started playing a classical picking on my guitar. Within seconds, you could see a family of deer walking toward the house. She said: How did you do that. I said: It’s not me. The deer are use to being fed everyday at this time. Would you like to help feed the deer? Her face lit up as she gladly agreed to help. The deer were amazing comfortable around Ms. Bloom. As I spread feed on the ground, she was busy petting the deer and feeding them straight from her hand. I imagined this beautiful smile was the same one she wore as a child on her Uncle’s farm.
We returned to the loft and the comfort of my cushioned, porch swing. We took turns telling stories and sharing expressions of affection, while the night somehow escaped us during our conversation. We were both surprised to see the sun rising to interrupt our comfort. Along with the memory of this night, I now have a wonderful new friend named Daisy. She told me that her time was well spent even though we didn’t discuss my case. She then said she had to get to the office and start working on my defense. We realized that we didn’t spend any time discussing it, because we were a little distracted by each other. She asked if I could join her for lunch and then she darted out the door before I could reply. A picnic with Daisy Bloom seemed to be a wonderful idea. However; I soon found out that my day was already pre-planned and pre-occupied.
As my day was beginning with or with out me, I suddenly realized that this was the time that I am usually just getting home from work. Plus with Daisy’s wonderful distraction, it hasn’t dawned on me that I have not slept in two days. I decided to get my chores done at the ranch and try to catch a quick nap before lunch.
As I was walking out to my truck, I saw a squirrel running on the gravel road toward me. At first, it looked like he was limping every few steps. I thought he was hurt. As he got closer, I noticed that he wasn’t limping. He was carrying a walnut. And every few steps he had to stop and get a better grip. He got about ten feet from me and stood up on his back legs as high as he could, while holding that nut out in front of him. His bushy tail was standing straight up his back and reached a little higher than his head. From the front it looked like he had an afro. He seemed to be extremely proud of that walnut. But, then he placed it on the ground in front of me and ran twenty or so feet back down the gravel road. Upon which; he stopped and turned around, then he stood up real high on his hind legs again and stood there watching me. I bent over and picked up the walnut and then as I looked back toward the squirrel, I saw him dart off into the high grass by the side of the road. I didn’t want to insult the little critter, so I placed the walnut in my pocket and continued on with my chores.
As I was approaching the chickens, I noticed a fox in the grass that seemed to be trying to sneak up on me. I said: you better get out of here. If Uncle Dean sees you, you’ll end up as someone’s hat. He just set there watching in curiosity. Then as I was scooping out some feed for the chickens, a Robin landed on my shoulder. I stood very still because I didn’t want to scare him away. After a short while, I noticed that he wasn’t going anywhere. He was holding on like he was expecting turbulence. I just finished spreading the feed and tried to ignore him. Things started feeling really weird as I noticed some rabbits in the high grass following me and a trail of ducks behind us. I hurried back to my loft apartment hoping that during my nap, everything would magically return to normal. But my dreams weren’t going to rescue me from reality today.



Chapter Three:
“Do you like Tibet? No thank you, I don’t gamble.”


As I arrived back home, a limousine was parked in front of the barn again. Before I was able to approach the limousine, my cell phone rang. Judge Stillner’s secretary was on the line asking me to hold for Judge Stillner. When the judge got on the phone he told me that a Zhang Zhung representative was sending a limousine to take me to the airport. I was to accompany some Zhang Zhung Tribal officials to their homeland for a Ceremony. He told me that he would inform my council; Ms Bloom, and I should be returning in about three days. He wished me good luck and then hung up with no further explanation. (I guess if they held a vote, I missed it). So I followed the judge’s instructions and grabbed three days worth of cloths, Bessie and Squirrel, and hopped into the limousine. I fell asleep before we hit pavement and I don’t remember anything until we arrived at a private jet.
We were somewhere at an isolated part of the airport with no terminals and no planes within one thousand feet. There were several cars part off to the side, with Security Guards in black suits at all corners of the plane. Squirrel and I ran onto the plane carrying Bessie over my shoulder and within a few minutes, we were airborne and headed for Tibet.
As I boarded, a lovely Flight Attendant directed me to a couch at the back of the plane. I didn’t know planes had couches. This was more like a tall limousine. I also noticed that I was the only person on the plane beside the flight crew. Suddenly, I felt us taxiing down the runway before I even put my seat belt on. I quickly buckled in and secured Squirrel beside me. It was rather nice having no flight instructions, no arriving two hours early at the airport to get through security check points, no ticket agents herding people on the plane like cattle, and there was also; no way I am ever flying coach again. I would like to just live here. It’s much nicer than my apartment.
As quick as the plane leveled out my Flight Attendant was placing a meal in front of me. The drink was a type of nectar resembling a honey, peach, apple blend of delight. And the food was exceptional. A single dish of fowl and noodles in a white cheesy cream sauce that made me want to lick the bowl. As I finished, I felt terrible. I noticed Squirrel next to me with that disappointed look. He knew, I forgot all about him as soon as I took that first bite. I had no defense. I apologized to my little friend and called the Flight Attendant over to help make restitution. Before I could say anything, she was already bringing me a smaller bowl of which she placed in front of Squirrel.
As I watch him eat, I was hoping I didn’t look like that. He was such a pig. He attacked that bowl like a warrior. I had to hold the bowl in place to keep him from pushing it across the couch. Every once in a while I would look over at the Flight Attendant with an embarrassed look on my face, because Squirrel was snorting and grunting like a price winning hog. I was scared he was going to eat the bowl. So, just as soon as he finished his meal, I quickly took the bowl away from him. As I thanked the Flight Attendant and handed her back the bowl I thought to myself, lucky dog, he got to lick his bowl.
It wasn’t long before I was sound asleep again. I like to sleep when I travel. That is, unless I’m driving. The motion of the plane was rather relaxing for most of the trip. However; toward the end it was getting a little scary. I woke to the turbulence of a butterfly in a jet steam. I was holding Squirrel in my lap and using my leg to help brace Bessie. The way we were being tossed around, I figured that if they turn up the heat, I could dry my laundry.
I looked out the window and instead of seeing clouds, I saw land. I rushed to the window to see mountains reaching higher than we were flying. I could feel the plane weaving to miss these monstrosity’s that seemed eager to stop us dead in our tracks. I reconnected my seat belt and refocused on securing my family. The Flight Attendant informed me that we were fixing to land. Immediately, I felt the plane rising. I thought we were just clearing another mountain before we landed. That wasn’t the case.
As soon as we got as high as I thought the plane could possibly reach, then we leveled out and landed. We were on a small landing strip near the top of a mountain. It was etched out of the top of a huge cliff about sixteen thousand feet above sea level. My first thought was to see if we still had gravity.
The landing strip was just large enough to land a small plane with very little room for error. I knew in my heart that Eagle’s have more since than to fly this high. As I exited the plane, the first thing I noticed was how hard and how cold the wind was. I had no idea how the plane was able to land in this wind. And, a more immediate concern was how the plane was able to stay on the ground until we got back. You actually had to watch your footing and lean into the wind to keep from blowing off the side of the mountain.
As we reached the entrance of a path that serpentine through the landscape, the wind was somewhat obstructed by our surroundings. It gave me a chance to take in the scenery and catch my breath. But, the scenery gave new meaning to the words “breathe taking”, because there was no air up here. Even air has more since than to climb this high. When the Judge Stillner told me to bring three days worth of cloths, he didn’t mention I may need a heavy coat. And oh yea, bring your own air.
As will scale higher toward the peak along this well beaten path, I noticed my breathing seemed to get easier. Either; I was starting to get use to the altitude, or the numbing pain in my legs, was simply taking my mind off of my breathing. Every step I took, I noticed muscles that I didn’t know I had. How high could this mountain possibly go? Some people say; there is a hole in the ozone. Well, this mountain maybe one of the causes. I wonder, who was the first person that saw a need for real estate up hear. They must have gotten a bargain on the land. I hope they weren’t counting on property values raising much, unless this path actually leads to heaven.
Well luckily, the path didn’t lead to heaven. Don’t get me wrong, I would love to make it to heaven one day. I just hadn’t planned on walking there. So with Squirrel held tight to my chest and Bessie strapped to my back, we finally overcame that final crest that brought us to “The Secret and Sacred Temple”.
As I noticed the mountain continuing upward, I was relieved to see a magnificent structure carved into the side of the mountain. The rubble that was chip away during its construction was used to build a wall around the front of the temple to add security to their solitude. The attention to detail was very evident as I noticed columns rising to the sky with chip patterns in the base to add decoration, while the columns were sanded smooth and perfectly bellowed. It reminded me of the Ancient Chinese Architecture, without the mythical dragons and such.
I could easily recognize the connection to the entire region through the similar construction and design and even in the beliefs and mannerisms of these people. It saddens me that the people of this region don’t see their own connection to each other. This has been made evident by the cruel actions in recent history by neighboring Nations. One example; is how their neighbors invaded the Zhang Zhung People’s region in the 1940s, and still retains a strangle hold on their people’s progress and prosperity even today. They do this by suppressing their social growth, limiting their opportunities and by inflicting their culture and beliefs on these peaceful people. The cruel actions of those Governments have even been described as to imprison members for publicly speaking about their religious alternative views.
It has always been believed that the “Rongbuk Monastery is the highest Temple in the world, However; this Secret and Sacred Temple that they have brought me to is unknown to outsiders, Especially to the neighboring government because of their history of Cruelty, Suppression and Greed. This Temple is a safe haven for Chenrezig, and holds Residence to the original blood line of the Zhang Zhung People. I was asked to never repeat the Temple’s Name or its Location.
The added color to the carvings on the walls brought life to the stories told of their journeys. The wisdom of thousands of years was simplified in these drawings and left as a guide for their future generations. You could easily interpret the hardship and suffering that they experienced, and how their good nature triumphed over and over again. I could see the pattern of cruelty, inflicted on the Zhang Zhung people by conquering nations. I could see these nations rise and turn to dust, leaving only the memory of their destruction and cruelty. And more importantly; in every drawing, I could see the strength of their beliefs and their love and respect for all living things. These are clearly a peaceful people surviving in a world of little peace.
As I followed my guide through the temple, the dedication to tradition was apparent and uninterrupted. A ceremony had already begun for my arrival which evidently didn’t require my participation. I was guided to the front of the temple where we paused momentarily. The Elders of the tribe approached me one by one in single file. They slightly bowed while touching the sleeve of my shirt without saying a word. No smile, no eye contact. They seemed extremely focused on their procedures and well disciplined against any and all distractions. Every step they took was pre-arranged through tradition and performed to the rhythm of the music which was (confidentially) giving me a headache.
As the ceremony continued, I reflected on the drawings and said a silent prayer for the protection of these people from all that may bring them harm. As I opened my eyes, my guide was gesturing for me to follow him. He led me down a long hallway that brought me to a huge wooden door. My guide bowed to me and left me in front of this closed door. I tried to knock but the wood was so thick that I could barely hear it myself. So I slowly pushed the door open while timidly announcing my entrance. There was no reply as I noticed a platform covered in carpet about two feet high, ten feet square with the active Chenrizig sitting in the middle. He was sitting in a yoga type pose with Butterflies circling his head like a halo.
Upon approaching, he asked me to remove my shoes and join him on his pedestal. I said: good you speak English. I set Squirrel down and carefully placed Bessie in the corner. I untied my shoes and placed them beside Bessie. I could feel the seriousness in the room like a thick fog. Evidently Squirrel noticed it too because we were both on our best behavior. As I joined the Chenrezig on his pedestal, the Chenrezig bowed his head for a moment of silence and then he started speaking.
He said: Our journeys unite our paths, and our paths shall test our journey. You are here because you follow the path and yet you question the journey. I said: Sir, I believe there has been a terrible mistake; you see I accidentally wrote on one of your scrolls. Before I could finish He said: As your journey evolves from darkness, your beliefs will lighten your path and enlighten the eyes of many. Walk by faith on this path, not by sight.
I was contemplating what he was saying as I looked over at Squirrel. And then I turned back to the Chenrezig to ask how he knows that this isn’t just an unfortunate mistake. But the Chenrezig had already disappeared. The butterflies that were circling his head were all that was left.
Then I noticed the butterflies coming toward me and started circling my head. I started waving my arms and trying to gently swat them away, but they followed me everywhere. I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed Bessie and called out to Squirrel “come on boy”. I ran back down that long hallway, straight through the temple and outside into the breezeway. The Butterflies were adamant until I got back out into the wind. Then they resided and seemed to disappear.
Suddenly Chauma appeared. I remembered them telling me that he was the grandson of the gentleman I just spoke with. Before I could say hello, he gave me a hug and said: Welcome to our home. I said: Thank you very much. You have a lovely home. Then I said: I was just talking to your grandfather and he disappeared right in front of me. Chauma said: He likes to do that. He tends to be dramatic. I said: Well, what is the deal with the butterflies. He said: you will get use to them. They use to annoy me too. I said: you mean they will be back? He said: All things are connected. The connection never changes. It is simply more evident at times.
I told him that I never got a chance to thank him for his help in America. He said: We are brothers separated by our journeys and united through our paths. As our paths separate, our journeys’ will unite.
I never understood what these people were talking about. So I just replied: Thank you. That is very nice. I appreciate all your hospitality. Your people are wonderful. But, is it alright if Squirrel and I go back home now. I am in a lot of trouble back home and I would like to know what is going to happen. He said: You know the outcomes as well as you know the sunset. He seemed to somehow know my personal connection to the sunset. I said: The sunset is always different. He said: The outcome is always the same. Then he gave me a hug and said: I will be with you on this path. Believe in your journey and lead this path into the light so others can be enlightened.
Then he guided me up a short trail to a magnificent view of a valley. He started speaking of the many hardships that his people are facing and the many immediate needs that have to be addressed. He spoke of a people with no Hospital, and the only Medical Facility is in danger of collapsing on top of its patients. He spoke of a Cruel Dictatorship which is threatening the very existence of his people and that now is the time for the prophecy.
He told me that he believes this is why it was written that on this 260th Cycle of the Temple Moon, our Ceremony is to be shared with the World. And that is why our paths unite.
As we were walking back towards the temple, my two guides arrived and started leading me back down the mountain. I assured Chauma that I would remember what he has told me. And then I thanked him once again for his kindness. I somehow felt different than when I arrived, maybe a little wiser and a little more humble.
So, as I journeyed down the mountain, I started reviewing all that I have seen and heard. I began to wonder if maybe this wasn’t an accident. Maybe, somehow I was destined to write on those scrolls. Could I really be a part of a prophecy? Highly unlikely! After all, the chosen few that actually add to the writings on the Scrolls spend a big part of their life choosing their message very carefully. How could they see my words as anything but a mistake? Maybe it isn’t my writings, but the act of stupidity itself that was prophesized. (That didn’t sound good) Before I could make any sense of my situation, I arrived back at our plane. I was very happy to see it was still here.
As I Climbed aboard the plane, I noticed that those Butterflies were back. They were circling my head like they were imprisoned by gravity. What could possibly be the attraction? Maybe the scent from my shampoo was the cause. For now, it was just another mystery that I had to deal with.
I was more interested in buckling up and securing my family for the trip home, and not a moment to soon. As I finished buckling in and pulling Squirrel in close, I could hear the engines racing. I noticed out my window that we hadn’t started moving. The pilot was doing a brake stand to build power. The engines were getting painfully loud and I was expecting an explosion any second. Finally, we started slowly moving forward. As we built speed, I was wondering if we had enough of a runway to become airborne. It didn’t dawn on me that we would be airborne for a while either way because of the long plunge down to earth. I quickly realized this, as we cleared the runway and instead of rising into the clear blue yonder we started to fall.
As I braced Bessie with my leg and held Squirrel close to my chest, I heard one of the engines sputtering. I was starting to get the feeling that this wasn’t a jet. It was simply a crop duster with cosmetics. It seemed that our twin engines were experiencing sibling rivalry. They clearly weren’t on the same sheet of music because one of them was way off tempo.
For some reason my thoughts went straight to those Butterflies which were no longer circling my head. They were now clinging to my cloths like fuzzy on felt. I knew I had to try something or else we were all going to die.
I could tell that the engines were choking, and we somehow needed to change the airflow mix. So with squirrel still tight to my chest, I unhooked my seatbelt and I started climbing toward the tail of the plane into the cargo area. As the weight of Squirrel and I started to change the tilt of the plane, the airflow into the engine was slowly correcting. The higher I climbed, the smoother the engine ran. Finally, I could hear the engines break into a magnificent symphony, which first leveled the plane and then started to climb.
As I returned to my seat, I was trying to appear modest. For, I thought I just saved everyone’s life. Then I heard the Co-Pilot ask the Captain what happened. The Captain said the choke wasn’t all the way out. He must have accidentally hit it with his knee during take-off.
I quickly realized that I had nothing to do with our rescue. I must have looked like a coward, climbing to the back of the plane. I looked over at my Flight Attendant who was looking at me with great concern. She asked if I was alright. I started to explain my actions, but my overwhelming display of stupidity, didn’t seem like a favorable defense. So I just replied: Yes, I’m fine.
For a moment, I forgot about the hardships that the Zhang Zhung tribal people are enduring and about my troubles back home. This moment was unfortunately brief. Reality often wakes me with a hard slap to the face. You would think that eventually, I would learn to duck. Once again, I felt exhausted from my journey. So, I decided to let the turbulence of the plane rock me to sleep.





Chapter Four:
“Fumbled Fame without the Fortune”

I woke to the sound of Squirrel barking and looking out the window. As I gazed out; while still half asleep, I saw a T.V. Crew and Reporters with flashing cameras outside a fenced area. They seemed to be taking pictures of our plane while we were refueling. I wasn’t sure what country we were in, but they must not get much excitement around here if they consider this news worthy. Refueling didn’t excite me that much, so I went back to sleep.
I didn‘t wake again till we were back at our local airport. As we touched down, I opened my eyes to Squirrel standing on my chest and licking my ear. I was dreaming about something totally different, but I prefer not to elaborate.
I started gathering my stuff and the Flight Attendant asked me to wait a moment while Security got in place. I said: Why do you need security? Do you have a lot of planes hi-jacked at the places where you fly to? She said: The security is not for the plane, it’s for our passengers. I said: Why would I need security. She said, it was normal procedure for all Diplomats and VIPs. I just smiled and told her that I clearly wasn’t a Diplomat, but I do have three initials. Unfortunately VIP wasn’t them. She smiled and told me it was alright to exit now.
Squirrel and I walked down the steps to our awaiting limousine, and I noticed in the distance a small crowd of people at a gate with Police Officers blocking their entrance. We climbed in our ride only to speed off in the opposite direction of the gate. As we exited the airport from a private gate in the back, I noticed one lone reporter reading a newspaper and standing beside his Van. He noticed us driving by and almost tripped over himself trying to get back into his vehicle to follow us.
That is when it dawned on me. These reporters were here because of my mistake at the museum. What could be worse than to become famous because of something stupid you did? I felt sick! Suddenly, I was dizzy and I felt a hollow thunder, echoing in my stomach. My limo ride didn’t seem very appealing anymore. I think I was better off on top of that mountain.
Suddenly my phone rang. It was Daisy; my attorney. She told me that she heard that I made it back to the states and she was headed to meet me at the ranch. She said: What ever you do, do not make a statement to the press. I told her I would gladly comply because I had no idea what to say.
On the road to my uncle’s ranch, I could see from a distance the gathering of reporters outside my uncle’s gate. The road was practically blocked by the cluster of vehicles, camera men and reporters eager to tell my embarrassing story. I directed the driver to a back entrance that we use for big trucks. As we approached, I noticed the same lone reporter in a van that was at the airport’s back gate. He reminded me of myself, alone, creative and persistent. I told the driver to stop beside the reporter. I told the reporter that I wasn’t able to speak at this time, but I would like his business card. He was very nice and he wasn’t pushy. He simply handed me his card and smiled. I told him that when it was alright with my attorney, we would give him a call.
We proceeded to my loft apartment only to find a cluster of vehicles out by the barn. I didn’t see Daisy’s car, but I saw my uncle’s truck beside the barn, and a couple of expensive looking cars parked off to the side in the middle of a bunch of cow patties. Immediately upon entering my loft, my uncle introduced me to my new lawyer. I asked my uncle, what happened to Daisy? He told me that he decided to hire a lawyer to defend me, instead of letting the courts appoint me a lawyer. Then he introduced me to Mr. Cash, Mr. Banks and Mr. Buckley from the Buckley/Banks and Cash Law Firm.
I turned to my uncle and told him that it was not necessary to spend a lot of money on an attorney. I was happy with the lawyer I had. The three lawyers immediately started trying to sell me on the combined experience that their firm had to offer. I had to interrupt them to say, I am sorry if you drove all the way out here for nothing, but Ms Bloom has already started my case and I had no intentions on replacing her.
Mr. Banks started telling me about the lawyer I was up against. He was none as “The Nut Cracker”. The museum hired him to prosecute the case and spared no expense. (I hope he got that name simply because his last name was Crackett). As Mr. Banks continued describing this prosecuting attorney, I wasn’t sure if this was a nickname or if they were speaking literally. He spoke of how Mr. Crackett never looses a case and how heartless he was. They spoke of how he will dig through my past and even involve my friends and family to win a case. Mr. Banks also told me that Mr. Crackett usually gets the judge to rule to the furthest extent of the law. He said, I maybe looking at ten years in prison without the proper representation. I told him once again that I appreciate his time, but I can not abandon Ms. Bloom. She has already spent time preparing my case. She may not have the experience, but I have no doubt she will try her best.
They thanked me and handed me a business card in case I change my mind. As they were leaving, my uncle told me that he hoped that I was making the right decision. I told him that it may not be the best decision, but I know it is the right thing to do. He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. Then he shook his head as he was walking down the steps.
I was eager to retire to my balcony. I collapsed on my swing and started playing a melody on Bessie that was extremely relaxing. It’s been a while since I had a chance to play my guitar. Next thing you know the Butterflies were flying around the room. I was curious where they were hiding. They sure were some sneaky little critters. Then I thought that I could sure use a sunset about now. I’ve lost track of time and the day. It seems so long since I had a chance to sit down and write a song.
Suddenly, I could hear a vehicle approaching in the background. Luckily, this car carried Daisy. I looked around and the Butterflies were gone. I called out to them: It’s alright, That is just my friend; Daisy. No one should mind seeing her. I was eager to discuss my case with Daisy since the press got scent of my mishap. And plus, I just like seeing her. She is real nice on the eyes!
I greeted her at the top of the steps as she was walking up to the loft. Immediately, she commented on the chaos at my front gate. She said it was hard to get in. She had to get a Police Officer to move the press back so she could enter the gate. I said: the Police are here too? She said: They were called because one of the neighbors complained about the press blocking the street. I asked if she knew which neighbor complained. She told me that it was the ranch at the end of the road.
I said: oh no, not Mrs. Cladder. She owns the beauty shop in town. She has her own network of gossipers. She even has a Gossip Column in the local paper called “Verify the Facts with Mrs. Cladder”. Before the end of the day, everyone in our county will know about my mistake. Daisy said: What I am going to tell you next, will take your mind off Mrs. Cladder. I thought maybe there was a whiff of good news in the air. Then Daisy said: The Judge has authorized for television cameras to be in the court room.
My heart dropped. I felt it bounce. Then, I think I tripped over it, kicked it and stepped on it while I was trying to find a place to sit down. I said: what could possibly be worse? Then I quickly replied: don’t answer that. I prefer to focus on the good side. There is a good side isn’t there? Daisy seemed eager to jump in, but she hesitated while she was searching for an appropriate answer. Then she said: Of course there is a good side. The Zhang Zhung people have dropped all charges. I said: then why are we still going to court. She said: the Curator Mr. Winke is pressing charges for Felony Destruction of Property. I said: Winkie is pressing charges. She said: you call him Winkie. Then we laughed for a while and she said: my brother calls one of his private parts Winkie. We laughed for a while longer and I finally regained control enough to yell out: me too! Then I laughed so hard I fell off my stool and almost went down the steps. I grabbed the railing just in time to avoid further embarrassment, but I still couldn’t stop laughing. I finally regained my composure as I wiped the tears from my eyes and then I set back down on my stool.
That was the first time I laughed since my mistake at the museum. It sure felt good to laugh. We both knew it couldn’t last. We had to get serious and review the hardships ahead of us. She said that I had to appear in court tomorrow at 8:00. I said: in the morning? She just smiled and continued with instructions on how to act and what to expect in court. She told me to ignore the cameras and just be my self. She told me that she was going to keep me off of the stand from testifying, but we would need to make a statement to the press. I handed her the business card from that reporter and asked if she would give him the exclusive. She asked why? I told her that he was nice and he seemed to need a break. She smiled and agreed to give our statement to him.
She then went over a few more details of my case before she left. I could tell that she was a little nervous about the trial. I could feel it in her voice and I could see it in her eyes. She was afraid of what was going to happen to me, and how she was going to perform in front of a world audience. It breaks my heart to see people troubled, especially when the trouble was caused by me. So, I closed her briefcase, I looked her in the eyes and I assured her that everything was going to be alright. I told her that I had first hand knowledge of this from a very wise man that lives on top of the world.
Then I said: He sent some friends back with me to join us on this journey. Then I picked up my guitar and started playing the same relaxing melody that I was playing earlier. Suddenly, the Butterflies came out of hiding again and started circling Daisy and I. She watched in amazement as our little friends kept circling. Their colors graced the room like sunlight breaking through the clouds. Their magical and soothing dance was hidden within their patterns of flight, and yet so easily observed by the willing. Through their flight; our problems were left far behind, if only for a moment.
Daisy leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. She told me to try to get a good night’s sleep because we had a long day ahead of us. Then she grabbed her briefcase and headed toward the stairs. I said: Thanks Daisy for all your help! And please watch your back, because I heard the Prosecuting Attorney is not very nice. She said: how did you hear about Mr. Crackett? I told her that it was just a rumor I heard.
I could tell by her puzzled look as she walked off, that she knew I wasn’t telling her everything. I just kept smiling till she got out of sight. I saw no need to tell her about my uncle’s kind gesture to help me, or to insinuate that anyone doubted her ability. Great strength is often generated from believing. Sometimes, it derives from others believing in you.



Chapter Five:
“The longest of roads, never leads home”

Before I left the next morning for my court appearance, I set down with Squirrel and had a long talk. I knew I couldn’t take him with me to court. And since he has never been left behind, I knew an explanation was in order. I tried to explain to him that animals are not allowed in court. No one could ever convince me that dogs don’t understand. Because, I could see his eyes were starting to tear up when I said: I will be back. I gave my loyalist of friends a big hug and tried to assure him that I wouldn’t be long.
The reality of my situation was that I didn’t truly know how long I would be. I knew that there was a possibility that I may not be coming home for a long time. If I am sentenced to do ten years in jail, my dearest of friends may not be alive when I am released. This thought made me so sad that I wanted to cry. As I held him against my chest I could tell that he already knew. He was as sad as I was. He was almost lifeless with sorrow. I just held him as long as time allowed. Then I replenished his food and water, and forced myself to head toward court.
The drive to the court house was almost subliminal. Totally numb of emotions and void of comprehension, I felt like a dead man walking the plank. No purpose left for my life, no control over my destiny and not even a glimpse of hope to gift wrap this empty shell.
Without the insight or energy left to break my fall, I found myself parked alongside the road beside a huge Oak Tree. I paused for a moment for silent prayer, and then got out of my truck and walked over to the shade of this magnificent tree.
It reminded me of a story my Grandfather told me. He spoke of when he was only seven years old and his father planted their first Oak Tree on the same property that is still in our family today. The shade from that tree is where our family’s gathered for reunions. He spoke of that tree like a family member. He described the shade as a contribution, and compared the seedlings to gifts from God.
He then explained to me how this tree affected our lives and the welfare of our farm. He spoke of the great depression, when his father built a makeshift pen around this tree, because they couldn’t afford the materials to make a proper shelter for their livestock. He reminded me of the many droughts and record breaking heat waves that has burdened and almost crippled our farm through the many years. And, how his father’s foresight; in planting that first Oak Tree, was a key element in the preservation and ultimately in the success of our family farm.
Then I noticed an Oak Tree even larger than the one I was standing under, about 200 yards away. It seemed evident that the wind carried a seed from that distant tree, and planted it beside this highway. That reminded me of the many Oak Trees that flourish on our farm today, and how they are all connected; not just to each other, but to all of us. Even our neighbors and the entire community that purchase meat, eggs, and vegetables from our farm are indebted to that one first tree that helped to keep our farm alive.
The wisdom shared with me by Chauma, was so evident and elementary, that I was embarrassed that I didn’t grasp the complete meaning of his message. “All things are connected. The connection never changes. It is simply more evident at times.” I am not sure why this thought brought me peace. But, I no longer feared my court appearance or even my destiny. I somehow found comfort in knowing that this connection means that no one is ever truly alone.
I jumped in my truck and rushed to the court house with a revitalized enthusiasm. I felt almost eager to face the world and the consequences that await my actions. I know in my heart that I have never meant harm to anyone. I can only pray for the patience and understanding of others, to tolerate my inadequacies. After all; I too am connected.
When I arrived at the court house, Daisy was waiting for me on the court house steps. She was standing next to an elderly gentleman that seemed eager to talk to me. Daisy started to introduce me to her new friend when she was interrupted. The gentleman seized the conversation in mid sentence to introduce himself, and quickly told me how long he has looked for a patient like me. He said his name was Dr. Clemmons, and that my disease was so rare, that less than a dozen cases have ever been recorded and studied. I looked over to Daisy and asked: What disease? Daisy said: You have what is none as “A Limaric Compulsive Disorder.” It is a brain dysfunction that controls and even complicates the processing of information to your brain.
My first impression was that this was simply a defense for my case. So I told Daisy that there was no way I am going to lie in court. I would rather just tell the truth about my stupid mistake, and leave it in God’s hands. She said: I would never lie in court. Then her, and the Doctor just stared at me waiting for the facts to sink in. She then said: Sorry Dave, but it is true. The Doctor has studied your work and he is convinced you have… well I guess the Doctor can explain it better. Then she started brushing the dog hair off of my tie while the doctor took over.
Dr. Clemmons started describing not only what this disease was but how it affects me. He also told me why I didn’t even know I was sick, and why I haven’t been diagnosed before now. He said that recent breakthroughs in the study of brain activity, has determined that this disease is present at birth and yet it remains dormant for many years. We haven’t figured out what triggers it. And no one has determined the cause of this disease, but we have devised ways to treat the symptoms. I said: What symptoms? I feel fine.
He continued his explanation to tell me that all brains process information similarly. This process works in conjunction with all of our senses. When you grab a hot skillet, your brain tells you to let go because the nerves in your hands relay information to your brain. I interrupted him to say: Doc, my senses are just fine and my reflexes seem above average. Dr. Clemmons said: your brain; for the lack of a better term, is over active. It is like you have two brains working; not in conjunction, but in harmony with each other. One brain is dealing with reality while the other is constantly stuck in an erythematic state. The doctor then said: Right now, I bet you have a melody in your head and you are probable placing words to this melody with little effort and no control to block it. That is why you are exhausted at the end of each day. And why you often take naps and feel overwhelmed by mental stress. This is more likely to happen when unexpected complications arise.
I felt a chill go down my spine during his explanation. I knew the symptoms sounded familiar. I then told him that I like doing more than one thing at a time because I like the challenge. He said: That is a natural reflex. When your erythematic state slows down, the rest of your brain tries to compensate. Like when you are brushing your teeth and trying to do something with your other hand at the same time like brush your hair. That is simply your brain trying to keep up with its natural state of hyper compulsive activity. Daisy interrupted us to say that we have to get inside, court is about to begin. So, we entered the court room and waited for the judge to make his entrance.
I didn’t speak for the longest time. I guess I was letting this new information sink in. I wasn’t sure what to think. With the T.V. camera’s all over the court room, I knew that the only foreseeable outcome, was that the entire planet would think I am either an idiot or mentally ill. Neither prospect was the least bit inviting.
What I once thought of as a gift, is now described as a disease. I see my mistake at the museum simply as an unfortunate mishap accredited to my workaholic attitude and persistence toward my career goals. I believe the world could only see my un-relentless effort as the ravings of a mental patient. I have not only lost the worth of my good intentions, I have lost all the value once found in my efforts.
Suddenly; an officer of the court, enters the court room and direct all the T.V. cameras to the right side of the room. We all waited while the court room audience was shuffled around to make room for the cameras repositioning. When the cameras were in place, then the judge made his Grand Entrance. It took me less than 5 seconds to realize what was going on. The judge’s expressions, his eye contact and his self conscience corrective posture was evident that the placement of the cameras was simply to catch his best profile. I suddenly realized that I was at an audition. The cameras were allowed in the court room only to further the judge’s career. I felt betrayed.
While the preliminary verbiage was passed around, I felt distant from the proceedings. Somewhat numb to my surrounding, I tried to reconnect and evaluate who I really was. Am I a Gifted Writer or simply a Mental Patient with a disease that sometimes produces a favorable outcome? I was quickly saddened to think of how this might affect the Zhang Zhung tribal people. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt these people that have been so kind to me. They welcomed me into their home and even into their tribe. Mental patient sure wouldn’t look good on their tribe register. I wasn’t sure how, but I was not going to let them down.
I refocused when Daisy got up to give her opening statement.
I am not sure if you have noticed, but I read people very well. However; it didn’t take a genius to see on the faces of the jury, that they believed and sympathize with what Daisy was saying. Juror number three was actually trying to disconnect her self from the facts to restrain her emotions. I saw her look away several times to regain composure. It was evident that Daisy was good! If I didn’t know me better, I would feel sorry for me too from the picture she just painted. When she got through, I almost expected for people to stand up and start clapping.
I clearly had no control over where this was heading. I couldn’t just jump up and yell: I’m not mentally ill, I just like to write! For the time being, I had to let this landslide take its course. The Prosecuting Attorney didn’t hesitate to ask for a continuance, so I could be evaluated. The Judge then turned toward the cameras, smiled larger than life and then seemed to perfectly narrate: This case is postponed till the defendant has a psychiatric evaluation. Defendant will be held in custody until Court reconvenes tomorrow at 8:00. He slapped that gavel down and then with a continuous smile he rose and gracefully walked out of the court room, never turning his face away from the camera. I thought he was going to run into the wall.
I turned to Daisy and she said: I promise it’s just for one night. I said: I’ll be O.K. But you are welcome to go hang out with Squirrel. He’s not use to being alone. And it may do you some good too. It’s peaceful at the ranch. As I turned to my Uncle standing behind us, I saw my sister Debbie. She’s my favorite sister. I like to tell her that even though she knows that she is my only sister. She was nice enough to fly in just for my trial. A gave her a hug over the rail and before we could speak, an Officer was placing hand cuffs on me and rushing me out of the court room. It was safe to say that my exit wasn’t as grand as the Judges.
As quick as I was in prison cloths, I was in front of a Psychiatrist named Dr. Brice. He was chosen by the Prosecuting Attorney Mr. Crackett, to evaluate me. After a series of opinionated tests and a parade of boring conversation, I was placed in a private cell for just a moment, to be rushed off again to see Dr. Clemmons. Upon conclusion of these encounters it seems that one doctor thinks I’m lazy and the other thinks I’m crazy. The only thing I knew for sure was that I’ve been called worse.
Once again I was placed in a private cell. Daisy came shortly after my house warming party, which consisted of an Officer shoving me in a cell, slamming the door behind me so quickly I felt the wake, and then kindly greeting me by saying: Don’t talk to anyone!
It sure was nice to see Daisy! She was nice enough to bring me a notebook and pen. She said she wasn’t able to bring Bessie. I said I understood but thanks for trying. She said she was going to take Squirrel to her house for tonight. I told her she was welcome to stay at the ranch. She just smiled. Then she said she would be here first thing in the morning and we would discuss the case over breakfast. Then she squeezed my hand and left.
As I was reflecting on my day I couldn’t get my mind off of that Oak Tree I saw on my way in to court. So, during the night I wrote this:

Titled: “Old Oak Tree”

Let me tell you about a place you can go
When your stress levels high and your feelings are low
I look upon it as a magical thing
The comfort I feel in the shade of an Old Oak Tree
The comfort I feel in the shade of an Old Oak

Treat me bad, be unkind
I can take it if you’re taking the time
Treat me mean, be absurd, or
Treat me to dinner if you’re feeling the urge

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing to me
Cause soon I’ll be back in the shade of an Old Oak Tree
Soon I’ll be back in the shade

Ever think about taking some time
Appreciate the simple things in your life
It’s not too far and it’s easy to find
I kinda think that, that’s what God had in mind

Let me tell you about a place you can go
When your stress levels high and your feelings are low
Won’t you please come with me
To the shade of an Old Oak Tree
Soon we’ll be back in the shade
Won’t you come and please enjoy the breeze
From the shade of an Old Oak.
(You can view the musical version at http://www.412c.blogspot.com/)

The next day in court was a nightmare. The Prosecuting Attorney was parading Museum Employees to the stand like Performers at a Jerry Lewis Telethon. He was trying to make me look lazy and incompetent. Then Daisy would cross examine to make me look like a Mental Patient disguised as a Creative Writer. Luckily all the employees liked me. The cleaning lady; Sarah, even spoke of a song I wrote for her that she still sings every time she mops the main hallway. She said it makes time fly by when she is working. These words made me feel good!
They even brought Karl; the Curator from the other Museum, in to testify. He made me sound so impressive that I had to turn to Daisy and ask who they were talking about. She said: You! I said: Really, I was about to say we should tell Uncle Dean to hire that guy.
I am not sure if anyone else noticed, but it seemed obvious to me that Mr. Crackett; the Prosecuting Attorney, was getting frustrated with this lack of incriminating evidence presented by his own witnesses. So, he called Winkie to the stand. I knew this wasn’t going to be a very pleasant picture. Our Curator Mr. Winke never did like me, but I didn’t quite understand the depth of his anger till now.
He made me sound like a demon; directed by Satan himself, to single handedly destroy his Museum. Even though he kept pointing over at me, I thought he was talking about something else. The way he described some vile creature, I thought maybe a wild animal was loose in the court room. He would point over to me and say things like; blood thirsty, manipulating leach that feeds off the system. I kept expecting something to sneak up behind me and bite me on the neck. I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder every once in a while. I couldn’t believe he was describing me!
During his insults and ravings I decided to tune out, so I started writing this:
Yesterday was green and now today he’s wearing blue.
The only thing in common is this Tie is ugly too!
He must have done his shopping at a Drive Thru Goodwill Store.
We should reward his efforts with that “Ugly Tie Award”!
I believe we could save a lot of time if the Judge would let a Psychiatrist have a couple of moments with Winkie. I would like to think that he would be a rare study. They could probably write a book on his paranoia alone. I couldn’t say for sure that he has multiple personalities, but I do know that none of them are likeable. I always thought he was too incompetent to even dig his own grave, I was wrong.
You could easily tell by the jurors faces that they didn’t like Winkie. No one likes someone who is that negative. I was hoping someone would just throw water on him so we could watch him melt. (Give Dorothy back her slippers.) But no such luck. We just had to tolerate his endless rambling till the judge finally called for a recess.
During our recess, Daisy and Mr. Crackett were called into the Judge’s Chambers. I was told later that a representative from the Zhang Zhung tribal people once again requested my release. The Judge granted their request and once again confined me to the ranch. I was also told that the Judge received a message from the White House. Judge Stillner was asked to postpone the hearings till a Representative from Washington arrived. He was expected to be arriving in two days and would like to speak to the judge before we proceed.
I had no idea why the White House was involved, or how they even found out about this. Oh yea, T.V. Reporters, those mindless tentacles connected to the electric vacuum that sucks the life out of the decency in society by feeding off the misery of others to accomplish that one narrow minded goal of corporate greed. Oh yea, those guys. How could I forget, they are the ones who have been keeping the Judge smiling like a giddy school girl during auditions for a lipstick commercial, for the last two days.
Beside this inflicting reminder of our networks involvement, I was having a hard time seeing the bright side to having a Politician involved. My Uncle Larry use to say that Politicians were like Bananas. They start Green, turn Yellow and end up Rotten. My Stepfather said: Politicians were like Diapers and need to be changed just as often, for the same reason. Unfortunately, history hasn’t given me the ammunition to justify a compelling defense against these theories. Maybe I will get lucky and they will send me a truly concerned Politician that sincerely cares about those less fortunate… I’m sorry; I just had to say that. I crack myself up sometimes. But seriously though, it’s like my Cousin Frankie once said: When you are ear deep in dung, you keep your mouth shut!
So, I’m just standing in the hallway in the midst of a bunch of Attorneys, while they were discussing sudden changes in scheduling. I felt like a rock in a landslide. Everyone around me was rushing me to a place that I didn’t want to be. So I wrote this:

I don’t want to be a rock, because now I know
No one wants to be a rock when its time to roll
It’s tragic when your world is turning, friction burning
Everything is out of control
I don’t want to be a rock, Nope. That’s just suicide
Rolling down a hill screaming for my life
If I had a choice everyone should know
I don’t want to be a rock
I’d rather be a Diamond!



Chapter Six:
“Never let the Wolf shear the Sheep”

I finally got signed out of jail and signed back into my Uncle’s custody again. Then, I headed straight to the comfort of my loft apartment and my dog Squirrel. The Police did an exceptional job of keeping the press back while I was leaving the Court House. However, I soon noticed that I was being followed by someone else.
There was a dark green Station Wagon just a few cars back that was strategically incompetent. Twice they aggressively changed lanes to make a turn and the second time they even had to run a red light to keep up with me. Idiots! I decided to slow down because I was scared they were going to hurt someone. As I guided them back to the ranch, I noticed they were the same men that fell off my balcony. They quickly drove up beside my truck as I got close to the ranch. Then one of them yelled out the window for me to look under my mattress. He yelled it twice and then they quickly sped off trying to leave me behind. I was only going 35mph and they seemed to be having a hard time creating distance between us. As smoke sputtered from their tail pipe, they quickly turned the corner, only to hit a parked car. As I drove by, I saw a lady that was evidently loading groceries into her trunk at the time. She was cursing and waving what appeared to be a French Roll at the gentlemen in a threatening manner.
I finally drove into the ranch from the rear entrance. I was so relieved to return home to find no one there. Just Squirrel waiting at the top of the steps. He had some cloth in his jaws from an intruder. It must have been the person that brought the message which was placed under my mattress. I was proud when I noticed that the cloth was a zipper from some man’s pants. For a blind dog that is no taller than a heavy woman’s high heels, he does pretty well. I was eager to read this message that was left at such great cost. I open an envelope to find letters pasted on some paper. The letters read:
GO TO THE HOLLOW STUMP AT THE NORTH END OF RANCH WITH DIRECTIONS TO THE SECRET TEMPLE AND WE WILL GIVE YOU 20,000,000 DOLLARS. I figured that they either ran out of letters, or their scissors broke. Because the last three letters ARS were written in black magic marker. (Idiots)
It didn’t take a genius to figure out that these three men in suits were not the master mind behind this scheme. And with recent events in the news about the cruelty and suppression against the Zhang Zhung people by one of the neighboring countries, I knew exactly who was trying to locate the Secret Temple, and I shuttered to think why. They probably wanted to bring harm to the Chenrezig. They could be trying to silence the Zhang Zhung people by eliminating their Spiritual Leader. I knew that no matter what their intentions were, they clearly weren’t honorable or else they wouldn’t need to be so sneaky.
There was no way I was going to help them to hurt the Zhang Zhung People. However; I knew that this 20 million would sure be helpful in building that hospital that Chauma told me his people so desperately needed.


The next chapter is under construction. E:mail David Lankop at dlankop@sbcglobal.net if you have any questions.
Thank you for reading!
You can view Original Songs, Poems and Script by this same Creative Writer, by visiting "The Journey of Dave" at http://www.412c.blogspot.com/ or Simply click on the Link, located at the top of this page.