The Story of Michelle's 25th Birthday and the Broken Face

Here is another installment from the Baby Vegas Diaries.  Enjoy!

 

The Story of Michelle’s 25^th Birthday and the Broken Face

Occurred:  June, 2013

Written:  August, 2013

This is the point in the story where I will begin, because apparently Michelle has no recollection of the events that transpired.  I was playing Jenga at a corner table with the Carrboro Ladies and a couple members of their entourage.  Every few minutes I would glance at the bar where Michelle was standing, trying to remember that it was likely that she would shortly become a danger to herself and everyone around her.  Half drunk and half distracted, I botched the Jenga game almost immediately.  Unapologetically, I skipped away from the table where the others were already constructing the tower for another game, and found a place at the bar next to Michelle, who had gotten dramatically more belligerent in the last five minutes.  She was smiling and swaying and slurring.  She let her head drop forward, arms out, swaying to the music with a glass of Maker’s in her right hand.  I checked my phone (almost 1:30 a.m.), weighed my can of PRB, about a third full, ordered a shot of Fireball Cinnamon Whiskey and asked for my tab. 

Enter Taryn: a spunky young bartender, bisexual, and a confirmed mouth rapist.  She started dancing provocatively against Michelle, who continued to smile and sway and slur and endured the impromptu bumping and grinding, if with apparent discomfort.  Spinning around, Taryn wrapped her arms around Michelle’s neck, softly said something I couldn’t hear (and was probably incoherent anyway), and pulled Michelle in for a kiss.  More accurately, she DOVE in to eat Michelle’s entire head.  Hammered, Michelle just rolled with it.  The people at the bar standing around us whooped and hollered.  Chris was laughing and pointing hysterically.  I was applauding and grinning from ear to ear.  Finally Taryn ran out of air, released Michelle and wiggled off to in search of other victims.

Michelle just leaned against the bar swaying and smiling, temporarily oblivious to anything going on around her.  I caught Chris's eye and we silently agreed that it was time to go.  I put a hand on Michelle’s shoulder.  “Ready to go Chicklet?”  I won’t embarrass Michelle further by writing any incoherent things that Michelle said the rest of that evening.  She was obviously off center, leaning back too far on her heels, and completely wasted.  We started walking towards the back door.  I walked slowly to Michelle’s left, a couple of feet behind her.  As we turned the corner of the bar, where we should have made a left toward the back door, Michelle crumpled to the right.  I had been prepared to catch her if she fell left or backward, but I wasn’t quick enough to prevent her from collapsing face first, forward and to the right.  With a surprised grunt, I turned to look at Chris and say, “Are you fucking serious?”  But before I could get a word out, Chris pointed and said, “Blood!”  The volume in the bar dropped dramatically for a split second before exploding again. 

We roughly turned Michelle over onto her back.  Blood was gushing from her nose.  It was everywhere: her chin, her clothes, on the floor of the Cellar, on her legs, her arms and hands.  With the help of about ten Cellar patrons, we hauled Michelle up on a bench along the wall and propped her up.  Someone put together a pack of ice and pushed it to Michelle’s swollen nose.  I took Chris’s phone and went outside to call Tony.  “Chris, what’s up?” Tony’s jovial voice said through the phone. 

“Hey man, this is Seth.  Chris and Michelle and I are at The Cellar.  Michelle just fell and crushed her nose.  Are you busy, can you give us a ride?”

About a minute and half later, Tony’s cab arrived at the back door to the Cellar.  This time, we carried Michelle between the two of us.  Tony eased Michelle into the front passenger seat.  “I’m sorry for bleeding in your cab,” Michelle groaned happily.  “It’s alright,” Tony responded.  “It’s not like this has never happened before.”

Back at Baby Vegas, Chris and I got to see Michelle in full light for the first time.  She was smeared with blood from head to toe.  Once we got inside the house, any assistance we were getting from Michelle abruptly stopped.  She went from belligerent and smiley and animated to unconscious and dead weight the minute we walked through the front door.  Eventually we got her cleaned up and tucked into bed.

The following afternoon, Chris and I were nursing our hangovers and watching television.  At approximately 2 pm, Chris received the following text from Michelle:  “Why am I bleeding?”

A Little Psychology, a Little Spirituality, and a Pretty Amusing Story About Me Driving Into a Ditch

I hope that everyone enjoyed the snow this week.  As I began writing this post, I had intended to only write a short anecdote about my adventures in the inclement weather, but I got on a roll and before I knew it, I had several paragraphs about psychology and spirituality.  I considered breaking them up into two different posts, but I sort of like them together.  I welcome the opinions of any readers about whether they belong together or should be separated.

I met with one of my mentors in Chapel Hill early this week, and in anticipation of this meeting, I had prepared a couple of topics that I was struggling with: impatience, anxiety, and maintaining positive energy while interacting with people who are exuding negative energy.  It was a great conversation, one that left me feeling peaceful, empowered and centered.  As it turns out (and of which I was certainly aware on a subconscious level), all three issues are linked to one particular fear:  I can not allow myself to fully trust the waking up process. 

My ego will not easily let go of the fears that this process is complete bullshit.  It causes impatience because internally I want to prove my ego wrong!  "Why isn't the process going any faster?!  Could the ego be correct: none of this real?  Am I just delusional?"  The anxiety comes when I do actually experience a revelation.  The ego says, "That's not really real!  Now you're just one step closer to the loony bin!" or sometimes, "Beware that if you continue with these shenanigans, you will grow too powerful, and power has never brought anything except destruction and despair."  All false beliefs I know.  Both impatience and anxiety are two very important reasons that I am so often affected by other people's negative energy.  I am very sensitive to the energies of others, and I'll absorb it like a sponge.  Why?  Because I am still learning to be centered in my own reality and existence.  The complex dynamics of interactions with others, compounded by the fact that most people are completely unaware as to how their energies effect other people, triggers my anxiety and impatience, and I suddenly find myself not so strong and centered.  In some of the worst circumstances, I might completely lose my footing and temporarily forget everything I have learned, sucked into short sighted realities and adopting programming that has no business in my psyche.

Earlier in my life I would turn my nose up at the prospect of fate and cosmic powers involved in my destiny.  I didn't want to believe that there were forces beyond my understanding and control.  I wanted to believe that reality was cut and dry: if it couldn't be perceived or explained using five senses, it was simply my imagination, or a fantasy invented by someone mentally disturbed, or by religion as means to control the masses, etc.

And then I woke up.  I discovered that there are indeed greater forces in the world that operate outside of my normal, three dimensional perception (that realization in and of itself is long story).  An extremist to the end I temporarily adopted the opposite perspective, that the process of figuring out who I am and my purpose required relinquishing a great deal of control over my own life.  Let the universe take charge and blow me towards my destiny and the heart of my desires!  This new perspective was profoundly helpful for learning to live in the moment, breaking away from routines and clearing out old programming.  But it didn't take long to realize that if I simply let the universe blow me along I was relinquishing my free will and giving over my power to a force that may not have in mind the interests of my true self.  I could go on and on about the concept of human beings giving their power away and enslaving themselves energetically to other people, ideas or authorities, but if I do that in this post, most of you will give up reading before you ever get to the anecdote.  So lets move on.

Back to the conversation with my mentor.  My struggle with trusting the process is rooted in a lack of balance.  Forge my own path or trust the universe?  The answer: take no experience for granted, but use my own discernment to choose each course of action.  My mentor offered this piece of wisdom:  "Every encounter, every interaction, every experience is significant.  Everything that happens to you is an opportunity to find guidance on your path."  With that clear and positive perspective, I went on to have a lovely evening and spent some time reading "The Celestine Prophesies" by James Redfield before I fell asleep.  If you haven't read it, I highly recommend it based on it's concepts and ideas.  Truthfully the story is unbelievable and the writing is not so great, but the ideas woven in about the evolutionary direction of mankind resonated with me deeply.  The wisdom the book contains fits nicely with the ideas of my other favorite spiritually inspired authors like Paulo Coelho and Carlos Castaneda.  If you have read "The Celestine Prophesies," you might understand how some of the ideas conveyed in the book correspond with the topics I wanted to discuss with my mentor.  I found the parallels between the ideas in the book and the clear messages I received in our conversation to be mind-numbingly coincidental... ironic since the my mentor's advice and the book both clearly stated that all coincidences are significant.

So I woke up the following morning refreshed, invigorated and ready to apply everything I had learned the day before.  My plan was to drive to King, NC and spend a few days at my dad's house.  However, consistent with other weather related events this January, North Carolina received a pretty substantial amount of snow.  My little light weight truck is hardly the ideal vehicle for this sort of weather, and rather than risk a long drive through the winding, snowy roads of the rural Winston Salem township, I opted to take refuge at my mother's in Johnston County.  To get to the community of Archer Lodge from Durham, one must drive only three main roads: I-540 E, I-64 E, and Smithfield Road.  I had no trouble at all on the highways, but Smithfield road was covered with at least two inches of dirty snow, ice and slush.  Alert and tense, I slowly rolled down the snow covered road.  As I passed a gas station on the left, I had a sudden urge to pull in and collect myself before continuing.  But there was a steady flow of slow moving traffic on both sides of the treacherous rode, and I quickly decided that pulling off was a fair more hazardous course of action than continuing on.  Approximately two minutes later, I was accelerating in order to pick up some momentum to climb a hill, when I lost control of the back end of the truck and slid rather gracefully into the ditch across the road.  Thankfully traffic had thinned out and I wasn't even remotely close to putting anyone else in danger.  Also fortunately, I was traveling at a mere 20 miles per hour, so the trip into the ditch was rather anticlimactic.  The entire experience occurred so quickly and so gently that as soon as I came to a complete stop, my only reaction was to sigh deeply and mutter, "Well, shit."

In the past, my initial reaction to a situation like this would have likely started a dramatic inner dialog that may have gone something like this: "Well, now look what's happened, you idiot!  Your dumbass didn't have any business driving around in conditions like this!  What the hell did you think would happen?  Why didn't you turn into the gas station when you had the chance?  When you fuck up, you go all the way, don't you?!"  Instead, this is how the inner dialog played out:  "Well, shit.  The truck is in the ditch.  I'm okay?  I'm okay!  Nothing is hurt.  I can calm down, there is no need to go into survival mode [this is a conscious trigger than I use to counteract anxiety: if I can reassure my body that I am not in a survival situation, and that there's no need for my brain to dump into my body the hormonal cocktail that it would need for a fight or flight situation, I can keep a better control on my anxiety levels; quite a cool thing].  My truck is in the ditch.  Why am I having this experience?"  And then a seed of doubt:  "You should have pulled into the gas station when you had the chance!"  But then a thought of clarity, "No, this was an accident, but not a mistake.  If I'd tried to pull into the gas station, I might have hit someone else instead.  Or likely I would have ended up in the ditch anyway."  Satisfied that this was nothing to beat myself up over, I allowed my normal, problem-solving operating system to take over:  "Now what?"  I didn't have to wait long. 

I had barely had an opportunity to call my mother who lives about five miles from my crash site, and to think through the possibility of walking back to the gas station, when a kind face appeared from a passing truck.  "You need help, bro?" said a serious, Latino fellow.  I was embarrassed to say the least, but, still on a spiritual high from the day before, I was open to all kinds of possibilities.  I explained my situation:  "I'm pretty stuck man.  I have someone coming to pick me up, so I think I'm just gonna leave her here..." 

In a friendly, but very "alpha-male" kind of way, he proceeded to explain to me that if my truck bed was properly weighted, how I might avoid such an accident in the future.  It took everything I had in me to avoid becoming defensive:  "I know, yes, you're right, I see that now, smile and nod, thank you so much, where did you come from, you wise gentleman..." 

A moment later, another gentleman, a legitimate Johnston County good ole boy, arrived on the scene in heavy duty truck.  "Are we out having some fun today or what?!"  This guy was full of enthusiasm, and gave off very positive vibes. 

"I'm having SOME kind of fun!" I responded with as much enthusiasm I as I could muster.  Holy shit!  I went into the ditch, and within just a few minutes, there were not one, but TWO guys graciously helping me out...in a place that I consider No Man's Land...  The implications were strong, and I did not ignore them.  "Want me to drag you out?" says the friendly redneck.  Well, shit, why the hell not, I thought.  "Why the hell not," I heard myself say.  The following half hour can only be described as hilarious. 

After the first ten minutes of trying to pull the truck from the ditch with out any success, I was ready to give up, collect my stuff and walk to the gas station to wait for Mom.  "I don't know, man..."  I said.  "I don't think she's coming out." 

"We're going to get her out of there," the good ole boy said confidently.  "Positive thinking!  Visualize it!  We can do this!"  Taken aback by his positivity and confidence, I involuntarily laughed.  "Well, I certainly can't argue with that," I said softly to myself with a grin, and jumped back into the truck to give it another go.

In the end, the guy dragged my truck over one hundred feet through the ditch to a place where the terrain flattened out and I was able to gently drive in reverse back onto the road.  "I can't thank you guys enough," I sincerely told them as I shook their hands and tried to energetically convey all the gratitude I felt for their unconditional kindness.  "No problem!" said the cheerful good ole boy.  "That was so much fun!  That's the first time I've ever pulled somebody out of the ditch!  You have yourself a great day!" 

An hour later I was safely at my mother's house, contemplating the meaning of the experience I had just had.  Was it a test to see if I could stay centered and in control when faced with an embarrassing dilemma?  Or an opportunity to show myself that I do possess the necessary tools to handle these types of situations with grace and positivity?  Was the universe trying to show me that my judgmental attitude towards Johnston County and its inhabitants is unfounded and petty?  Was the message about "positive thinking," as my redneck savior verbally suggested?  Or was the experience even about me?  Could it have been that the experience was more significant for the guys that helped me out?  In the end I had to admit that any specific reasons for the experience eluded me, but that if I can learn to trust the process, I may one day understand.

Later that afternoon I texted Sarah and Rachel to give them a short recap of what had happened.  Sarah and I exchange books regularly, so I also wanted to give her my review of "The Celestine Prophesies."  Her response?  "I just bought that book yesterday!"  Well, shit.  Of course you did.  :)

The Story of Chris and the Porno DVDs

Here's one for fun.  Michelle and I have an ongoing plan for a project called "The Baby Vegas Diaries," which will detail some of the more entertaining happenings at our home in Carrboro.  I regret that I already showed this story to Chris.  It would have been much more hilarious if he read it for the first time on this blog.  Enjoy.

The Story of Chris and the Porno DVDs

Occurred:  July, 2013 and August, 2013

Written:  August, 2013

 

In the process of going through and purging as much shit as possible, I came across a box I had called the “Re-gift Box.”  When Lizzie and I lived together, every year at Christmas various members of my family would give Lizzie bath accessories: fragrant shampoos and body washes, body lotions, bubble bath, scented candles…  you get the idea.  Actually, more importantly, LAVENDER scented shampoos, body washes, body lotions, bubble bath and scented candles.  Lizzie is allergic to lavender.  Rather than tell my relatives about her aversion to lavender, they went in the “Re-gift Box” so that they could be gifted to co-workers or distant friends or whomever.  Also in this box were two pornographic DVD’s, still in their cellophane wrappers.  I can’t recall the names off the top of my head, but they were obviously vintage, low budget, terrible…  like off the ninety-nine cent rack at a Latino flea market.  I’m not completely clear on where the DVD’s came from, although I think it had been a gag gift from a Christmas party 2 or 3 years before.  It should be obvious why it was in a box full of scented bath commodities. 

I brought the lavender accessories to the girls who were relaxing downstairs, loudly announcing “I have GIFTS for you all!”  Chris, unfortunately, wasn’t home to share in the reverie of scented bath stuffs.  I hadn’t really decided what to do with the DVD’s yet.  I mean, they were a ‘grade A’ gag gift, but I was trying to purge as much of my junk as possible.  Then I had an idea.  I would re-gift them after all.  With maniacal energy, I rushed to Chris’s room and placed them on the keyboard shelf affixed to the bottom of his desk.  The shelf was covered in dust and obviously hadn’t moved or been used for anything in months.  It could be weeks, or even months before he discovered the DVD’s!  I swore Michelle and Andrea to secrecy: if the DVD’s were discovered, deny all prior knowledge of their existence.

About a month later, I received the following text from Chris:  “Did you leave porn in my room?”

My response:  “Porn?  What kind of porn?”

Chris: “There are two DVDs on my keyboard thing under my desk.  Haha.  I’m very confused as to how it got there.”

Me:  “Unless it is girl on girl on guy on goat on Smurf, not mine.”

And that was the last that was ever spoken about the DVDs…  until now.  :)

The Universe Conspires

I have not posted in over two weeks because I have been travelling in the northeastern United States.  This is a brief account of an incident that took place on the first day of my travels.

Monday, January 6th, was my first day officially "on the road."  I carried with me only two bags, both bursting at the seams with clothing, books I hoped to read, my electronic devices and some personal items.  My vehicle I left in Clayton, NC as I was determined to rely exclusively on public transportation for this adventure. 

I had a few destinations, but no itinerary.  There are friends and family living all over the east coast with whom I would stay.  Carrboro, NC was my first stop, where I would meet up with Rachel, one of my dearest friends.  My sister Brittnye was gracious enough to bring me to Carrboro, making the first leg of the trip exceptionally easy.  I had a couple of hours before Rachel would be off work, so I decided to drop into a coffee shop near her work place.  I had only recently moved away from Carrboro which had been my home for over six years.  Despite the length of my residence in the small town, I had never once set foot in Oasis in Carr Mill until that day.  The vibes in the shop were immediately refreshing.  The art, furniture and soft music strongly reflected Eastern and Native American spiritual traditions.  At the counter there was a small gong with a sign saying "Please Ring Gong for Service."  Behind the counter sat a jovial looking gentlemen with receding white hair and a beard.  His eyes were extremely friendly.  Intuitively I knew that this was the establishment's proprietor.  I ordered hot green tea with honey and immediately began interrogating the gentleman, as I always do when I find myself face to face with the owner of any food or beverage business.  "How long has this place been open?"  "What inspired the décor?"  "Have you been busy?"  The gentleman answered my questions openly and proudly.  He was obviously delighted to been engaged in a conversation about the philosophy of his business.  He informed me that the shop offers free presentations, group mediations and live music on a nightly basis.  Gesturing around the room, he suggested that if I was looking for something to read there were a number of books around the room.  Some of the titles included "The Beauty Path," "Memoirs of an Ex-Hippie," "Rasta Heart," and "A Guide for an Awakening Planet," all written by Robert Roskind and published by One Love Press.  It took me only a few seconds to realize that this gentleman was Robert Roskind.  My curiosity about Robert and Oasis peaked.

And then he did something unexpected.  He turned the tables and started interrogating me.  "What brings you to Oasis this afternoon?"  "How long have you lived in Carrboro?"  "What sort of work do you do?"  I found him so intriguing and easy to talk to that I practically blurted out my entire life story.  I explained that I had recently been a dedicated chef and restaurant consultant, that in the last couple of years that I had been deeply conflicted about the commercialization of agriculture and the genetic modification of the food we eat, that I had become passionate about holistic nutrition and the importance of balancing the body-mind with meditation and yoga, and that I had recently abandoned my career and home to go in pursuit of...  I'm still not quite sure what.  He listened to my rambling patiently and kindly.  I concluded by telling him that I would be spending most of this year learning about organic agriculture by working on WWOOFing farms.  When I was finished, he suggested that I visit Jamaica to learn about the Rastafarian life philosophy.  I readily admitted that such a trip interested me immensely, and that I already had plans to visit Guatemala in May with a non-profit organization called MILE (Music Is Love Exchange).  I stated that I was supremely interested in the Mayan culture and have a deep affection for the Guatemalan people that I have worked with over the last several years.  When I mentioned Maya and Guatemala, his eyes lit up.  "Hold on just a moment, Seth.  I have something for you."  He disappeared into a back room and emerged a moment later with a book entitled "2012: The Transformation from the Love of Power to the Power of Love," written by none other than Robert Roskind.  He explained that he had written the book in 2006 when he and his family had traveled to Guatemala, he said, "to see if the wisdom of Maya contained a message of one love for all humanity."  He and his family had visited peoples of numerous other cultures in search of the same message, including the Hopi Native Americans and the Rastafarians in Jamaica.  In "Memoirs of an Ex-Hippie" he describes the message of One Love that came out of the counterculture moment in the 1960's and 70's. 

I was perplexed to say the least.  It was my first day on the road.  The entire purpose of this journey was to experience the rebirth that occurs when one is traveling, to let the universe point me in the direction my life should take, and to discover what things are truly important to me.  And here I was, on day one of that journey, in a town that I know all too well, in a coffee shop where I had never set foot, talking to a gentleman who had spent most of his life traveling for the same purpose.  And not only that, he had experienced the mysteries of Maya and had discovered that in their ancient wisdom there was indeed a message of one love for all humanity.  If this wasn't a sign of encouragement that I was on the right track, I couldn't imagine what one would look like.  Still trying to wrap my head around the enormity of this coincidence, I gratefully accepted his gift.  I opened the book and saw that he had written an inscription on the inside cover: "Seth, best of luck in your travels.  Enjoy our life's journey!  With love, Robert."  I would devour the entire book in the first four days of my trip.

I found a comfortable couch and sat down to write some notes in my journal, sipping the delightfully hot tea, the wheels in my head spinning at high speed.  When the hour came for Rachel to get off work, I carried my tea mug to the counter and thanked Robert profusely for his gift and the conversation.  "I have one last question for you," I said as I adjusted my pack on my shoulder.  "How did you come to open this coffee shop in Carrboro, NC of all places?"  He hesitated for a brief moment, but then looked me square in the eye and said with a grin, "This is the project that the Creator assigned me.  The reasons I will know in time." 

The Contract

It's all dense jungle as far as the eye can see.  The tree line divides the horizon between the safe place I am standing and the absolute chaos abroad.  The sun is warm where I stand, my feet are comfortable in the sand, and everything behind me is well known to me.  I have my belongings: a few carefully selected tools, my objects of power, and a few indulgences to appease the indulging parts of myself.  This journey into the jungle is long overdue.  I am painfully aware that I have betrayed my heart countless times already in this lifetime, and on this day, I will fulfill my contract to make amends.  I will give my heart the leadership it deserves, and my heart will lead me into the jungle where I hope to find my salvation. 

People have said to me, "You're going on a great adventure!  How exciting!  And scary."  No, it isn't scary.  Scary is a word used to describe horror movies, bad dreams and fantasies.  The unknown is real, and it is terrifying.  It has an obvious effect on my body.  To stare off into the unknown is one thing, to go there requires a leap of faith.  I can feel the fear pulsating in my body from simply gazing at the treacherous landscape in front of me.  My stomach and neck muscles clench, my breath and heartbeat quicken, my senses are noticeably heightened.  My mental landscape is writhing in agony.  My brain cannot process the complexity of information that my body is sending.  It is urging almost invincibly that to fight or flight are my only chances of survival.  But I make a commitment to follow my heart, and my heart gently overrules my mind with love and compassion, and the uncomfortable feelings that accompany fear subside. While subdued, fear remains close should it need to emerge and protect me, ever vigilant of every danger.  Fear is a strong ally, but a poor leader.  Only my heart can successfully navigate this journey.

My heart knows that forward is the only direction available to me.  To try and go back would almost certainly mean a short and miserable life.  To stay in my current position would almost certainly mean madness (and therefore, likely a short and miserable life).  To move forward means to face the unknown...and also to face the totality of myself.

This is my first blog post ever, and I would like explain a few things to any readers. I'm only going to offer this disclaimer this once!  This blog is public and available to everyone.  Everything I post will be completely true, and I will do my best to be completely objective when reporting events.  That being said, I will also be posting my thoughts and conversations about a wide range of topics.  Anyone who knows me knows that I have a pretty adamant interest in paranormal, metaphysical, and spiritual subjects.  A lot of these subjects are bizarre, and I often talk about them as if they were fact. 

I would like to clarify that I only truly believe three things. 
One: Every single one of us as human beings perceives the world differently and has a unique life experience. 
Two: Every single one of us as human beings want or are looking for something, and we don't really know what that thing is.  We may believe that if we accomplish this, or get that, or have this experience that we'll be FINALLY be happy...  but we won't.  Cover it up all you want with money, drugs, sex, religion, politics, relationships, entertainment, material things, but something will always be missing.  There will always be a natural discomfort...  unless you can figure out what that thing is and unite with it to be complete. 
Three: That thing is totally obtainable for every single person on the earth.  Doubtless, many already have.

But for the rest of us, those beliefs lead to all kinds reasoning about psychology, philosophy, God, religion, sociology, and evolution.  So many "what's" and "how's" and "why's".  So much information is out there as there are so many people trying in their own way to answer these questions.  I'll have plenty to say about all of these subjects as we go along, but do I believe any of it?  I offer you this quote from "Tales of Power" by Carlos Castaneda:  "A warrior acts as if nothing had ever happened, because he doesn't believe in anything, yet he accepts everything at its face value. He accepts without accepting and disregards without disregarding. He never feels as if he knows, neither does he feel as if nothing had ever happened."  The world is an ever changing place and I prefer to live fluidly.  It enables me to live gently and gracefully while following my heart.