A Place to Learn.

     Introduction:
     Huge update this week! Wow! Am I putting too much stuff up? Is that possible? I guess it is when I have to (am incredibly fortunate to) find a nice working laptop at some awesome peoples' house and stay up all night working on it, and it still wasn't done!
     Notre Dame came and went. Learned a lot and I suppose I wish it lasted a bit longer, but the world is too big to hang out here too long, so it's on to Chicago! Actually, I'm there already haha! That'll have to wait though as there's so much else to report on. I tried to keep a more or less chronological log of my thoughts and some happenings this week so have a read!
     Also, what I'm sure we've all been waiting for... That short story I've been working on/experimenting with is finally completed! I have a feeling the professors at Notre Dame won't have the time to get to reading it, so I would really love it if anyone who reads it leaves a comment sharing their thoughts. I don't care if you like it or hate it, just give me an honest opinion and I will use that to improve!
     Even though classes were beginning for others, this week was the final for me. I have written here, in mostly sparse overarching detail that I plan to expand upon in the future, many things I have learned and seen since my trip begin. I recommend reading it in the order it's in. It's all connected. We're all connected. Thank you for reading and God Bless America!

I'm proud of this little slip of paper because knowledge should be free!
In fact, it is.
Just ask anyone what you want to know and if they know then they'll probably tell you
unless they're in a rush or something.
Photo courtesy of David Guthrie—this week's guest photographer!
https://www.facebook.com/david.guthrie

     Music:
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBRBQSXsQzw
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iwuy4hHO3YQ
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6ABZb3_Xc0


     Notre Dame:

Freshman orientation.
Just eatin' the chips they gave me
Trying to remember what it was like for me.

Cool sundial in front of the science building.

The library, which I recall from a decade ago or so.

I just want to sit by a tree and write!

Happened upon this collection in the Architectural Building.

     So I'm inside the food court of Notre Dame perusing the copious delicious food therein when I bump into Lisa, a woman I had met the previous day and a proud mother of a recent Notre Dame acceptee. She shares with me her and her daughter's worry, that she'll be distracted or at worst sucked into the campus culture of partying/drinking etc. when she is really just there to study and learn and grow. Of course, she wants and needs to make friends and have fun (as we all do right?), but therein lies the problem. If ones friends are partying/drinking, it's a lot more difficult to make the decision not to do that, for example. I try to reassure Lisa that as long as her daughter stays true to her goals and puts that sort of energy out there, then she will attract that sort of person. That makes sense to her and she happily continues on her way, as do I to my table with my food. I took too much, as I oft do at these food halls.

     As I eat, I reflect on my goals while I'm here in this place. I've already been to college. I've had this experience, and it was wonderful. I wouldn't change it for the world, and I don't need to redo it. In other words, I'm not here for "the college experience." I truly just want the knowledge and skills of writing that I believe I will find here. I want to, for a bit, ride a little less and write a little more (Ride-Write. Get it!?) But like Lisa's daughter, I need some fun now and then too, lest I become a dull writer.

     So we must take our own advice of course! (Okay, imagine a cooking show now). We start this dish with a definitive writer base. That'll keep the flavor very literate. Next, add in a dash of traveler. This is going to really separate our dish from the other dishes. If you haven't figured it out yet, we like to do our own thing around here. And with that in mind, we're going to throw in a teaspoon or so of musician. It'll keep it fun and expressive. In a separate bowl mix together some chopped active health nut with a 1/4 cup of spirituality to make a nice glaze. Pour the glaze over the main dish and we've got a recipe for Healthy Body, Mind, and Spirit! Bake that in the oven all day and see who responds!

A Thank You to all the people that work the kitchens and serve the Notre Dame population.
I feel like these days, many people look down on individuals who work in the service industry
and that is really uncalled for.
We've all got to be somewhere, and if the job needs to get done then somebodies gotta do it.

So I admit I made a mistake during the orientation.
I probably should not have given the Director of the program I was "sneaking" into all of my information, except the fact I wasn't really enrolled of course.
I was and am just so excited about what I'm doing I just sort of blurted my whole story out!

Here's the e-mail I received the day classes began and the following correspondence:
(The Director's e-mail in Verdana Red)
(My e-mail in Georgia Green)
(My commentary in bold purple)

Dear Justin,

I hope this email finds you well. Going over the class rosters, I noticed that your name is not on the roster for the creative writing class we discussed and I also can't find you among the registrar's list of students enrolled at Notre Dame. I'm sorry to inform you that even students who are permitted to audit classes must register as auditors and thus appear on the class roster; to do this you must be enrolled as student at Notre Dame.

If you are an enrolled Notre Dame student, you need to contact the registrar's office and resolve this omission. You are currently not in their system. 

If you are not a Notre Dame student, you cannot attend the class. 

Thank you for resolving this,
________________________________________________________________________
     So I see some of this e-mail while I'm at the post office mailing a parcel to a lovely friend back in Maryland and am elated! It has been way too easy so far. Like, I don't know, I guess I was expecting some game of wit and intrigue at some point, so while the e-mail was a bit surprising, it was also pretty exciting!
     I get on a computer as soon as I can and respond.
________________________________________________________________________

     Hi xxxxx,

     Thanks so much for bringing this to my attention. Being on the road without internet I probably dropped the ball somewhere. I'll contact the registrar's office soon and figure it out.
     Speaking of that, here's my blog!
     ridelionheart.blogspot.com

     If you're interested feel free to check it out (I just updated it yesterday). My interest in writing has really developed over time as I traveled here. When I started out I was just putting some sparse thoughts up, but as time went on I slowly (or maybe quickly, it's all relative) wanted to be able to put my thoughts to written word more and more so I've put more and more effort into that endeavor. You can kind of see that happen over time in the blog, so I guess that's neat. I hope I can keep up with it, and keep it interesting, with classes going on. Next week I plan (hope) to have finally finished a little short story I've been working on and put the whole thing up, so if you're interested in that I'd be honored if you read it. I would totally understand though if you're too busy.

     Also, just so you're not worried, I found some off-campus housing (: I guess I'm technically not a freshman as I've taken classes at Southern Connecticut State University, but I kinda feel like one, other than the whole leaving home for the first time thing. I'm kinda used to be out on my own now. It's scary sometimes but the world is filled with kind people, y'know?

     Thanks again xxxxx!
________________________________________________________________________
     So I was trying to say don't worry about it, and really just try to show her all the truth I laid out, but she was, unfortunately, already worried.
________________________________________________________________________

     Justin, can you please clarify then-- are you enrolling at Notre Dame as a transfer student? As a sophomore? Or not enrolled at all? Thanks for filling me in, since we really need to know your status, and please contact the registrar's office immediately and sort it all out.

Thank you,

________________________________________________________________________

     So clearly she's on to me haha. The correct move here would have been to not respond in the first place, but too late for that I supposed.
     Also please note, I was having a lot of fun right here.

________________________________________________________________________

     Well, the intention was to be a student, but maybe I messed that up somewhere?

As for freshman/sophomore/junior/senior maybe I'm confused as to the definition? I just think 1st year/2nd year/3rd year/4th year.

________________________________________________________________________

     I'd also like to point out that I never actually lied about anything.
     Sure, by saying I am "a student," I am implying enrollment, or at least the listener assumes that, and in being aware of this and not correcting it there is some deception—but I never lied.

     And I had read in a book just that morning, "Those who aren't afraid of the truth make terrible liars." At least I don't think I'm afraid of the truth haha.

________________________________________________________________________

Justin, it sounds to me like you are not enrolled at Notre Dame, that you are not formally a student at Notre Dame. If you were under the impression that your paperwork was in order, it is not. Contact the registrar immediately. If you were planning to just audit some courses while living in town and not being enrolled, I regret to inform you that you cannot.  Only a subset of staff and staff/faculty spouses qualify to enroll as non-degree students, and they must still properly register. As it stands, you cannot take, audit, or sit in on any of the creative writing classes. I wish you the best.
________________________________________________________________________
     Honestly, nothing motivates me more than when someone tells me that I cannot do something that I want to do. Someone once told me I can't just ride my bicycle and that I needed a car, for example. I responded to this e-mail by walking out of the computer lab and immediately proving her wrong.

Law class. This was actually my favorite!
I definitely plan to get into some more Law classes at some other campus.
And I would love for someone to tell me that I can't.
That being said, worried about the e-mails this morning, I wimped out on seeing a potentially interesting writing class and opted for the "safe" bet, Theology 10001.
That was the wrong choice, and now I'll never know what I would have learned there in that one day...
After that class I wrote a narrative.

    I leave theology 10001 a little groggy—no offense to the professor but the class seems kind of boring. I happen upon a philosophy syllabus in a lecture hall and I think I'll go to that class instead. Too bad, as I was set up to take on the identity of absent student Guan Ho (assuming he continued to not show up). I exit the building to the always pristine world of Notre Dame's campus and see a bird fall from a tree to the ground. One other student seemed to notice, but then continued on. They're probably busy after all. Everyone is, as they pass the little Morning Dove sitting in the wood chips, most failing to notice. Everyone but me. I've got nothing better to do then sit and with the thing and watch it, hoping it'll remember how to fly (I don't want to do anything, seen as how last time I helped a bird didn't go so well). Perhaps that's the only difference, how busy we are with our own thoughts and dealings, that keeps me sitting here and others blind to the poor creatures plight.
     Perhaps this idea, more than any other, is why I want to be a writer. So that I may make my own schedule, keeping myself free to go and do and see and pay attention to what I want. What everyone else doesn't see. What everyone else is too busy for.
     I don't want to be in the Theology class. I want to audit the Creative Non-Fiction class, and had planned to, but fear of the professor being privy to my unique situation thanks to the above e-mail kept me from trying (little did I know at the time a department wide e-mail was sent out about me too. Definitely proud of that). As I watch the poor creature sit with eyes closed in the dirt, I wonder, would I have stumbled like it did? Would my wings have broken and would I have been stuck on the ground, death approaching in the cold night? Eventually some university staff would clean me up and throw me out, keeping the campus as clean as everyone believes it aught to be. Or maybe I should join the lawn caretakers and not the students. If I want to go to Notre Dame, that's probably the sort of best that I've been recently wished. At least they're a heck of a lot friendlier than most of the students I've talked to.
     I approach the bird and it flutters away. Seems like it can fly just fine.

So I could have just snuck into a bunch of law classes
but the next day I decide that I came here for writing
and I'm at least gonna walk into one of those classes and see what happens.
I decide to go with the Intermediate Poetry class.

About half way through the class, the professor wants us to all share something about ourselves.
One student is in the band, another is on the football team, etc.
When it gets to me, in this small group, what's the point of being anyone but who I am?
I say, "Hm, I don''t want to deceive all of you, so yeah, I'm riding my bicycle across the country and I'm not actually enrolled here."
Silence.
Great this is going over better than I thought!
The professor, wearing a face as though he had expected some nice jam but had discovered some amount of mold within, eventually stutters, "Uhm, I don't think... I don't think, you, can do, that."
I am feeling the tension in the room that I unwittingly caused, though aside from its awareness am laregely unaffected by it. I cooly look at the professor, "Well that's up to you professor."
"Uhm, no, that's..." He stutters, "That's not something you can do. No."
And with a shrug, "Okay." Still quite cool, thank you very much.
"Uhm, uhm, I was not, ah, expecting that."
Another shrug, with a smirk and a ha this time.
"Uhm, yeah. You can not do that." He finally composed himself a bit.
"Alright. Wasn't gonna argue with yah! Haha!" I laugh, then recline.
Continue professor.
"Well, I suppose you can stay until the end of class..."
"Cool! Thanks!"

So the professor gives us a prompt.
Write a poem on a blank card with 
● 5 lines● Using the word 'gravitational'

In my mind the card is already full.
The second I get the slip of paper I immediately get to work.
I'm also the last to finish.

We go around the room. I admired the efforts of everyone in the class
but two poems in particular struck me.
I'm going to post them here without the authors' names
(As I'm just some random hippie dude that snuck into your class and maybe you don't want me posting your name on the internet)
But if you want your name attached to these poems, and you should, then just e-mail me.

This one first:

it's Ben a Rough summer
playing professional dress up,
indie Rock padding after-hours,
your gravitational laugh
time bites indiscriminately

So the professor said some bull shit about this after she, the student, read it aloud to us, and by that I mean he deconstructed the poem very technically. I use the term "bull shit" because I don't really see or understand the use in that.
I wanted to ask her who Ben is. I wanted to ask her what he did.
Do you not see Ben and Rough are both capitalized professor?
I could see her in some grungy house show, dressed up for the scene but not really identifying with them.
And she stuck the dumb prompt word in there pretty good too.

This next one though, I rewrote myself and took a picture of it, because typing it in takes away the beauty in it.

This was written by the football player of the class.
The professor actually starts criticizing it!
"Oh, you could have put gravitational down here too... Hmmm..."
Uhm WRONG the poem is fucking perfect the way it is and is a clear message to you that your prompt sucks and that this dude isn't gonna care about your nonsense.
The dude wrote a great poem that reminded me of what it was like going to college and getting out of my parent's home for the first time.
I wasn't on the damn Notre Dame Football Team but I don't need to be to know what it's like when you step out of your shell and into the fucking world!
You'll probably never read this Mr. B but keep on rocking on and write whatever you want. The dude has to pass you anyways. You're on the football team.
Just remember, you've only stepped out of one bubble into a larger one, so always do the right thing.

You're in a position of great social power
and that means you have a great responsibility to protect
all the people that gravitate around you
You're at Notre Dame. God is watching, right?
so always do the right thing.

There. I just wrote another one.
Here's the one I wrote in class.

The professor puts my poem up last,

nearly forgetting, suggesting to see it almost as an after thought.

He doesn't ask me to read it like he asked the others. That's fine, they can read it themselves.

I swear... This guy... He doesn't know what to make of it.

He looks to me and says, "I see you, uhm, wrote yourself a concrete poem there eh?"

For one you son of a bitch, I don't even know what a concrete poem is. I had to wiki-fucking-pedia it before writing this out. And I think that's fair 'cause you clearly wouldn't know poetry from an encyclopedia.

...

Okay, so I got a little emotional about his condescending air regarding what I feel is an awesome poem. I don't care if you don't like it, I don't care if you disagree, I don't care if you pick it apart all technically and B.S., I don't even care if you crumple the thing up and throw it out the winder, but show me the respect I deserve for being there and talk about my fucking poem.

Maybe he did that on purpose to get me, in which case, well played sir.

On the other hand. If you really don't get my poem. If you really only saw it as the amateurish attempts of some bozo (which I admit it is) then what am I doing in your class?

Well here's my poem explained.

5 lines, check.

Those lines connecting the words are actually the word "gravitational" you prompted.

That's the structure of the poem, which is kind of like the chains that bind a poem together. Its structure. It also holds the poem down though. It's necessary because structure makes ideas easier to understand. It's harmful to the expression because it creates a box for the ideas to be confined in.

The 4 "chain" words are what you put together to make poetry, in any combination.

Just 1: A poem about The World, Ourselves, The (current) Moment, or Inspiration.

Just 2: A poem about The World inspiring us. Or about ourselves with a Moment.

And etc. through all possible combinations.
Also, the four concepts I claim come together as poetry are from a way a friend taught me to conceptualize the universe.
There is Inner. Outer. Tangible. Intangible.
So - Ourselves. Inspiration. The World. The Moment
Respectively.

But I suppose it is a concrete poem.

The students leave and the professor decides to gently confront me. He mentions an e-mail he got warning about some dude sneaking into classes, but he didn't realize that was me (I so totally knew it!) I respond lightheartedly, "Haha, yeah that lady really has it out for me for some reason!"
He doesn't seem to share my enthusiasm for the situation.
"You can't do this." He says seriously
I don't respond. I already said, I'm not gonna argue with him.
I'm just going to go and quietly prove him wrong.
The Canadian History class is pretty boring, just a dude listing facts, no way I'd go back, but for my troubles I get a cool Canadian magazine that has a headline of the Top 10 Photographs that shape Canada, so that'll be great to study.

With time to spare I walk around the academic hallway just listening in to classes from the door, rather than commit to sneaking in. When it's boring I move on. When it's interesting I listen.

     Not being enrolled is awesome. I can just go around learning what I want to learn and not have to worry about some stupid "GPA" or "credits" or "requirements" or "majors." If a class bores me, I'm done. I'll find a better one. The only thing I have to worry about is being forced to leave (a class I like) because I apparently don't belong there, which honestly just makes it more exciting. Philosophically though, it's kind of dumb. I repeat from up top for posterity:
     Knowledge is free y'know! You just have to ask someone what you want to know and if they know and have the time/energy they'll tell you.
______________________________________________________________________________
     The following is a very relevant digression. If you read nothing else in this post please read this. ND story continues past the next line,
     So we have all these systems in place. The Education system, the Penitentiary system, the foster care system, etc. We kind of need systems. To live in a functioning society, humans need some government to not kill each other/protect ourselves from foreign powers (there are some anarchists out there that disagree but that's another topic for another time). The problem though is two-fold.
     Firstly, and this is no secret—the system is broken. In any shape of it, our systems don't help everyone. They're not designed to. The idea of our society is that those who contribute meaningfully are rewarded, so in other words the more meaningful ones contribution the more money you get. Somehow, a lot of people seem to have gotten this idea in their heads that the more money one gets the better a person you are. For example, if you have money, you deserve knowledge, and if you don't have money, then you better get a job at Starbucks or a factory or something.
     Oh! But there are student loans! Yes, for some. And for every dollar that each kid takes—who has NO CONCEPT of just how much money $20,000 or more is and doesn't really see any other path in life to take besides college ('cause they've grown up sheltered and weak)—they have to return AT LEAST two over the life of the loan. Hmm, one to two, that's not so bad... Well it sure is when that means another $20,000 dollars. And if you don't pay the crippling monthly installments you go into default and that is very serious because it could effect your credit and then you won't get a car or a home. I know this because this is exactly what it says on their website when you're late on a payment, trying to scare the average recent-college grad into coughing up money. And guess where that money goes? Well gee, honestly, I don't know. I could tell you that the Saudi's are buying all the horse farms around Lexington and literally shipping the fertile Kentucky soil back to The Middle East. I could tell you about some neighborhoods in Baltimore that are blighted beyond belief and there isn't a place to get groceries for blocks and by God if someone just put in the money to build a community center and some continuous funds to support its growth the people there would have the means to make us of that space for good. I could tell you about the many many many many homeless folk in EVERY FUCKING CITY I HAVE VISITED that live on the street because the shelters kick them out at 4am because there are only volunteers working there because the city of Chicago doesn't pay much of anything to help/support the residents that are stuck sleeping on its streets.
     I could tell you all that, 'cause I've seen it with my own eyes. I could tell you all that, but I can't tell you where all that money goes, 'cause I haven't seen that. I can't.
     Even if any particular person doesn't feel they believe that money makes someone a good person (few people actually think that consciously, I'm sure) that's just how the system is designed. Higher education just isn't an option for a lot of people. Oh yeah, there are loans, and that's great, but what do you do after you get the bit of knowledge you wanted? An expensive piece of paper. And what does that expensive piece of paper get you? Through a door maybe, but all that really matters when it comes to determining how one does in the world is what's up in your head, not the dumb credentials. So, get a glimpse of some knowledge, here's your bill, get to work. That's the high education system working swimmingly.

     Secondly, there are a bunch of hidden systems that most people either don't know about or aren't really aware of. I'm talking here about the dark side of capitalism. Now I don't subscribe to any particular political side, and anybody who wants to argue about it is wasting their time and the time of anyone they're trying to prove wrong.
     Here's a link with the definitions if anyone would like:
http://www.webpages.uidaho.edu/engl_258/lecture%20notes/capitalism%20etc%20defined.htm
but the fact of the matter is when it comes to a capitalist economy, there are winners and losers.
     That itself wouldn't be so bad, right? The harder you work the better your chances at winning. If you win you get cool toys like yachts and stuff. Yay!
     But the problem is that the quality of life of the losers is horrendous, and should be shocking every person in this nation. Shall I form a list of the tragedies I've heard on the road? For now, here's my favorite:
     Susan had two kids with a guy she loved but he bailed for whatever reason.
     The economic strain is forcing Susan to rely on her parents a lot while she works two jobs and goes to school, so she can get better jobs and get her family out of the trap. Get herself out of the rat race. Consequently, she never gets to see her kids, and her kids grow up without their mom shile she works her ass off because that's what she thinks she needs to do
     I say she needs to go live in rural Tennessee ina cheap house, be happy with what she has, and live with the support of the loving community around there, and maybe catch fish by the river and just chill and love her kids and it'll all be alright. I'm not her though and I don't know what she needs to be happy, she thinks it's money, so I wish her all the money in the world. And maybe she's right, 'cause many communities around the country are falling apart as people do less things together with their neighbor and do more things on their couch in front of their TV. Meanwhile, the money in the community is being zapped out because big businesses like Dollar General come in (On July 6, 2007 all of the shares were purchased for $22 per share by a private investment group. The investment group consists of affiliates of Kohlberg Gravis Roberts, GS Capital Partners (an affiliate of Goldman  Sachs), Citigroup Private Equity, and a few other individual private co-investors) and put the local businesses out of business because people can get a candy bar there for .30 cents less so of course they'll go there instead of to their neighbors' store, not realizing that if their neighbor has the dollar and also spends the dollar locally it stays in the community, where as every dollar Dollar General gets its hands on just flys away, gone forever. Oh, but it comes back! Yes the rich give jobs when they're doing well. That's right, all the locals employed by Dollar General and other such stores, all the way on up to the manager, are getting paid a nice, generous, and completely unlivable wage to slave away behind a register or dish washer (For example, in Richmond Virginia, I met a manager of a 7/11 who was paid $9.75 an hour even though he had worked there for 5 years).
_____________________________________________________________________________

Okay, back to the tale of Notre Dame.

So about a month prior I had sent this e-mail to the professor of the Creative Writing class I wanted to take:

     Hello Professor xxxxx,

     I am a student interested in learning more about creative writing and poetry. Admittedly, I have little experience in this form of prose and was hoping I could audit/sit-in on a few of your Intro to Creative Writing classes this coming Fall semester.

     I am especially interested in writing and poetry as a medium to express myself. I do not wish to just be a writer or poet, which is why I only plan to audit the class, for now, but I hope to have lots of ideas to put to paper one day and would like some introduction to this art form. I do currently exercise my pen with some short stories and poetry, but find them painfully amateurish and hope to improve them through your teachings.

     I am especially interested in your class because I would like the guidance of one who is closer in age to me. I am interested in learning just how you came to be a writer/poet and your entire journey really. Plus I have a friend who knows a bunch of secret pie-baking techniques, and would be happy to pass these on to you. She makes the greatest pies.

     I realize you are most likely incredibly busy so I would not ask you to take any time to read my writing, though I plan to complete any assignment given and hope to contribute positively and meaningfully to the class (though I could sit quietly in the corner too if you prefer). I am truly and genuinely interested in the knowledge you will be disseminating in the coming months and cannot sufficiently express to you how much being in your classroom would mean to me (because I need to be in your classroom to learn how to sufficiently express myself through writing).

     So, to reiterate, would you be so gracious as to extend to me the honor of allowing me to sit-in on your Intro to Creative Writing class?

     Thank you for your time, and have a great day!

She responded that she'd love to have me! Cool!
I was certainly hoping for an environment of learning where I could compare my work with other fellow aspiring writers and get some guidance from the professor.
I figured my experiences and positive attitude might be enough of a benefit to the group so that they may accept me, and some couple months in when I reveal my true identity somehow love would win and people would choose their own judgement over the rules of their system
(The Famed Basilica).
But we didn't make it there. We blew it with the director, who in conversation I had told everything including that I was expressly taking a particular class and this is their name yup that's the one because if no one figured it out yet I am a horrible liar and I can't lie to even not get arrested or whatever. So yeah we knew they set up a trap at that determined class because we knew that they knew but we walked into it anyways. We walked into it because the jig was up on the writing classes at least (though I got the poetry syllabus and that's all I need haha). There was even a metaphysics class there I wanted to take at that exact same time I could have gone too, but going down in flames sounded so much more interesting.
They knew what I looked like because of this:

Yup, that's my facebook profile pic. Saw it printed out in HD in the station (with my lovely Mother's head cropped out. How could they!?)
And that's a good lesson, because all they needed was my name and ta-fucking-da now they have my face.
Then there was a little chase, just to get these old dudes blood pumping.
Now I don't know if they had squad cars at the ready, but I ride my bike a lot, and I could have outrun these old dudes. Just sayin (Though the decision to just stop and let what will be will be may have been slightly influenced by the unknown variable of the squad cars).

     So I can’t lie, I feel a little disappointed. It was my decision, oddly, but there were a couple things I wanted to do that I did not fit into my short time in the new haven. Detained by the Notre Dame security, I was given the beautiful Notice of Trespassing, as seen above, which I am naturally very proud of. I’m a little disappointed because I came quite a ways to come here with the intention and goal of, more than anything else, comparing my writing with other aspiring writers and exchanging ideas and hopefully growing with them.

     However, it didn’t take me too much time on the illustrious Notre Dame campus to see that I really don’t belong here. But let’s explore why, shall we? In my travels, I have learned that the only person that decides whether someone belongs somewhere or not is that person. Sure, there are systems in place to catch people that don’t pay the price of admission, but there are plenty of ways around any system. Figuring the cracks out is part of the fun! With that said, let it be known I was having an absolute blast doing just that at Notre Dame.

     However, through observations and interactions with students and staff, I determined pretty quickly that Notre Dame is… kinda lame! Now when I say this I do not mean it in a judgemental way. This is my perception, and I do not look down on anyone. I strive my absolute best to not judge—we’re all on our own path and we each have our lessons to learn—but ya’ll shoulda seen my face when I realized I was surrounded by a bunch of privileged sheltered teenagers. Once again, I don’t judge any of them. When I was that age I wasn’t much better. But it took about a day for me to start thinking about how cool Yellow Springs, Ohio was or start wondering what I’m missing out on in Chicago or where ever else in the country I could be while I reclined in the supposed promised land.

     I don’t regret a single pedal stroke though. The whole six hundred or so miles from Tennessee up to here was awesome! Ohio and Lexington, Kentucky were both unexpectedly amazing, and of course I learned a lot all along the way! South Bend itself ain’t so bad either, and I did learn a lot at Notre Dame. Not exactly what they were teaching in class haha, but useful knowledge nonetheless. Now I’ll head over to Chicago, which I am super excited about.
     I really love having a goal. That’s just how I operate. I set my sights on something and then figure out how to get there/accomplish the task. Getting to and sneaking into Notre Dame was that goal, and I accomplished that. It felt great to accomplish that. I could have stayed too. I know I could have. Maybe it sounds as if I’m posturing here, but they only caught me because I purposefully walked into their trap. Part of me wanted to check out some high level Philosophy classes and Law classes, and continue sneaking into the nice meal hall (if any of the workers from there read this, sorry I won’t be seeing ya’ll again! You take care Grill Masta’!) but another part of me wanted to move on and continue the adventure. So, with my goal complete, I walked right over to where I knew they were waiting for me just to see what they’d do.

     So, Notre Dame, the big evil meanies that we have to stick it to by swiping some free education!
     Well, kind of, yeah. I don't know what it is exactly, as it's complex, complicated, and obscure, but there's some system in place that keeps the down man down and the up man up. Some perfect balance of bias and trusting "policies and rules" over our own judgement and failure to empathize with another human being that allows for this system to continue in place.
     But there is one thing I forgot, and that was the human part of it all too. That not every "member" of the supposed "system" is in on it. What one sees as mirrors the other sees as nails. Most of the people that support any sort of glass ceiling do so unwittingly, just following their learned behaviors from society. That's why these "glass ceilings" are a problem, because they're ingrained in who we all are. Every single one of us contributes to the many social woes our society faces, whether that's equal pay for women, .
     There are a few people out there fighting these problems though. Yes, these courageous individuals alone are the ones on the literal front lines here fighting the good fight. So, how do they do it? Chaining themselves to trees? No no not quite. Hunger strikes? No no you'd have to be in prison where no one can see you to do that! Well how can we fight against all the woes of our world without having to negotiate on the joys and responsibilities in our life for some mighty crusade, whether that be our medium grade 'but damn it we like it' coffee in the morning or our commitments to our family? To our children? Well it's really really easy actually. Just... Talk about it.
     If you are talking you are sharing ideas. You are spreading knowledge and information and maybe a little wisdom who knows. If you talk with someone you know you both learn more together, like studying with a partner. If you talk to someone you don't know, you can either teach them everything you know about it or learn a lot from them about it, depending on who knows more. If you are talking you are doing something instead of nothing and I didn't take anything past Calculus and I know for sure that something is a hell of a lot more than nothing. So talk! Choose an issue and talk about it! Talk to as many people as possible! No need to force the issue of course, no need to ruin any nice moment or anything, but when there's an opportunity, when you see a way you can spread a good idea (that's one you truly believe in) then go for it! Or, even better, if you're not sure, just ask people about it! Someone you meet will be happy to tell you what they know. I guarantee it.
     So, back to that pesky "human" element I forgot about. I forgot the director and the professors and even the other students really are people. I forgot how the internet is scary and I forgot, and again, I do not mean this in a judgemental way at all, how Notre Dame is truly the most sheltered little bubble in the country. And honestly, I understand, 'cause I was there before. Maybe that's even a part of why I went to Notre Dame. It was never about them, it was about Yale. I'm from New Haven, Connecticut... It's where Yale is. That's what I tell people when they ask me where I'm from, and that's the shadow I grew up under. It's the one I really aught to be defeating. But now I can't go home, not yet, so Yale's thousands of miles away. You better watch out though Yale, I'm comin' for you next! I learned a lot from Notre Dame indeed.

     However, the greatest lesson I learned is, once again, the human element that I had neglected. So I would like to end this adventure on this note: To the director I met and the professor I contacted and any students or staff I met and even the security that detained me (they figured out pretty quickly that I was just this weird hippie dude and probably not a threat to anyone, which I was thankful for, then let me go 'cause with a exceedingly polite "Don't come back now y'hear!"), I am sorry I deceived you. I wasn't thinking about the feelings of the painfully naive yet good people of Notre Dame. I hope I did not scare anyone, though I hope you all learned something too. I'm a real person and this is my blog and I just want to live my life and learn a lot and I won't deceive people like this again, even at Yale (I'll still get in their classes though. I dare you to say I can't).

So... Am I a writer yet? How about a poet?
You all tell me, 'cause I honestly don't know.

     Dry Man's Bar Review:

In my continued efforts to write and experiment with that, I came up with the idea to review a bar... From the perspective of a dude that has never imbibed!

Not consuming alcohol had in the past made me feel quite out of place at bars.

But now I feel right at home in most places I'm welcomed at

(And some I'm not)

So hopefully this perspective of a watering hole will be interesting to some.

 Fiddler's Hearth.

I had heard of it many times from many people in South Bend.
My search for David Gutherie led me here

So I decided to give the place itself an honest look as well.

 I'm sure this little mud room is invaluable in the winter time.

For now they have a bulletin board.

I hope you all already know how much I love bulletin boards.

Rich here reports ~ "Kinda like has that public home feel. Sitting next to people you don't even know."

Hey! That's me, lookin' around excitedly and takin' pictures!

Thanks again David Gutherie!

They have live music ever night here!

This was this lady performer's last show for a while.

And all these people showed up!

I had just eaten so I forgot to look at the menu
but when I heard they had bread pudding...

Jackie serves up one of my favorite desserts.

That bowl of baked bread with whatever is in there was just...

I'm in tears trying to think of words to describe it.

Let's just say. Get it. Just get it right now!

But anyways, Jackie gushes to me afterwards about how much she just loves her job!

"For me, I get to host a party every night!

I get paid to go out.

It's more than a restaurant."

I noticed a real feel of community here.
Seemed like just about everyone was a regular

and that may very well be because the wait staff there are so friendly!

The infamous fiddle...
I tried to inquire as to its origin, but I was never able to meet the owners

so all I got was that it was a gift from a Great Irish Band that was passing through.

If. When, I return to South Bend, I'll find out that fiddle's whole story!

Final Verdict: Fiddler's Hearth sets out to be something something ambitious.
Ironically, that ambitious goal is the opposite of ambition: Genuine.
A real live genuine bar.
A place people can go any night of the week and see friends, unwind, and have a good cheer.
Fiddler's Hearth set out to be a place that is becoming rarer and rarer these days.
A place of community and love.
Fiddler's Hearth sets out to be these things and it achieves that and so much more.
If there was ever a bar to review, Fiddler's Hearth is it.
And if there was ever a bar to visit, Fiddler's Hearth is it.
So if you are ever in South Bend,
Fiddler's Hearth is it.

     Food Review:
     Okay I lied, the rest of Chicago can wait, but there are so many places to eat here we had to get started, so here's a little Chicago sampler!

I had it on good counsel that New Wave Coffee was the place to go!
The outside was unassuming enough.
It was an adventure in an of itself getting over to it, but I made it with about 50 minutes 'til they close.

Bulletin board right on the window. Nice.
I like this place already.

Art on the wall? Check.
People chilling in the space? Check.
We're becoming very uniform with this aren't we?

I like the space well enough.
It is well lit and clean.

I meet Kurt and Amy. Both have been here before, but neither feels they are a "regular."
Kurt ~ "New Wave Cafe is very fitting for the neighborhood. Logan Square is hipster central"
Still not quite sure what a hipster is, I just question the name, "I thought it was New Wave Coffee?"
Amy ~ "Well, they don't actually roast their own beans, so, it's cafe."
"But the sign..."
"It's a cafe."
Amy also tells me they used to have a Nintendo on a cool couch, but they got rid of it when they redesigned.
Amy misses the Nintendo. She didn't play it but it was fun to watch.

I speak to the manager. It's his last day. He doesn't give his name and doesn't want to answer my questions. He tells me he won't prepare food. He wants to go home.
I feel for him, take a picture of their cool bathroom, and leave.

Still quite hungry, I find Reno of
http://www.renochicago.com/
I had been looking for this place because...

Just last night I bumped into this lovely couple on the road! Not only did Ely and Ryan help me with directions, they told me to come by their restaurant they worked at and they would hook me up!
Cool!

There was an extra pizza that was gettin' tossed.
When Arnando heard my story though, he decided to give me the works!

Thank. You. Arnando.

Before I dig in, I say hello to Leila and Stephanie.
They were in New Wave too! I love coincedences.

Leila seems to love food as much as I do and sort of gushes about their sandwich ~ "The Hook. Raw Salmon, artichoke cream cheese, avocado and onion.
Stephanie concurs about the food, but adds her own values in too ~ "The pizza is really really good. I come here for lunch, it' in a really convenient spot."

Leila declined when I first offered
But when I mentioned the giant leaves of basil she came to see, and taste, for herself!

OH MY GOD THIS BALL OF MOZZARELLA HER RICOTTA IN IT.

The lighting was dim.
But the flavor was not.
The jalapeno pesto Arnando loaded me up with was delicious and perfectly spicy (though I know of some wimps that couldn't handle it).
This delicious pizza hit every spot that pizza can hit!

For desert, Ely gave me a Spiced Cake.
I was only going to eat half... Buuuuut...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MjtXEJ64C8I

Sword "To Take the Black," Ryan's heavy metal music selection, blares at a reasonable volume while I finish off this huge piece of delicious moist cake.
The crumb topping isn't overly sweet and there's just the right amount of it on top. A lot.
Pecans add a yummy crunch now and then, or a raisin or two adds some sweet chewiness.

Their menu has a Morning, Brunch, and Dinner version.
The NIGHT menu looks pretty good
and not too expensive for what I would expect a cool place in a cool part of Chicago might cost.

Ryan juggles bartender duties as he makes drinks and conversation with others at the bar.
Here he's just stocking some lemon juice, but he throws in how much he likes his job.
"I listen to whatever I want, talk to people. It's great!"
He notes that all other customers have left and turns up Sword.

Ely prepares clean silverware and napkin wraps for the morning shift tomorrow.
There is definitely work to be done at a restaurant, but she doesn't mind.
"It's a great community. It's a great place to work."
I compare her experience, her eating and talking and feeding weary cyclist travelers
to my experience in the service industry at a more corporate restaurant; Friendly's
Basically a diner/grill franchise that specialized in ice cream and marketing to children.

They went bankrupt a few years back.
We got a 20% off coupon with our paycheck. That was it there.
The experience of working in a huge franchise and a small local place is entirely different for one reason:
The human element.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R416VHIL514
Ryan's mood shifts and he puts on some smooth Jazz.
The entire feel of the bar changes, just like that.
I almost start feeling depressed in a noir sort of way
but Christi here is too cheerful to let that come to pass.
"Their brunch is fucking awesome." She shares.

Looking around the restaurant
the new selection of music doesn't quite fit the decor
but I take it all in and appreciate the moment regardless.

It's a late Sunday in the city
Some shops close just an hour earlier
But that extra hour is one less hour out in the winds
And one more hour of rest our play
Whatever each Chicagoite wants to do

In their chilly city by the water

Final Verdict: Reno Chicago is aptly named. It's a real taste of Chicago with its own thing going on too. As with any location though, it is the people there that will make your experience, not just the stuffs you consume.
Head on down and grab a pizza from Arnando, or a drink from Ryan, or sit down for a good meal, served by Ely. You can't go wrong either way.
But when you leave these kind folk the nice tip they deserve, be sure to tell 'em Justin sent'cha!

     Pictures:

I hope I can see a real moose one day.

My new friend Nikki and I check out the Chocolate Cafe in South Bend!
She gets me a grilled cheese.
Yesssssss

After my first day of classes, I head off campus to check out a drum circle I heard about.
Clearly this shows where my interests lay.

I check out McCormick's while I'm out
A cool little dive bar with some local talent performing

The space my friend Nigel gave me was invaluable
Especially when it came to drying all my soaked stuff!

Give me access to a kitchen and some fresh food
And I will cook you something good!

I'm gonna frame it and put it right next to my actual degree.

With my business in South Bend/Notre Dame done
I start heading out of the city come the first morning light

But as a man with an American Flag painted hard hat walks
then I remember
David. F'in. Gutherie.

I can't leave without at least trying to find this guy.
I go first to where we meet, the Purple Porch co-op
One of if not the coolest spots in the city, I met the man of the hour here not a week prior
https://www.facebook.com/PurplePorchCoop
They made a post about me too so check it out :D
https://www.facebook.com/PurplePorchCoop/photos/a.10150346325287581.342922.145380867580/10152918117087581/?type=1&theater

I asked around, searchin' high and low, leavin' some messages here and there,

but nobody not nobody has seen the David Gutherie

So I decide to see the art museum to kill some time.
There's a few shows goin' on tonight
and this true man of the people will undoubtedly be somewhere

"No i in team"
This exhibit, museum goers created the wall with just an "i" stamp

My favorite piece in the museum.

I had heard about Seitz and Sounds
An awesome free park show at Seitz Park
Brittany Lee Moffit, with her amazing voice and keyboard performance, completely floors me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JbQg-6R-vw
She mentions a show of hers in two days in Chicago that she figures no on there would be at
as Chicago is about 100 miles away.

I go meet Brittany after the show and let her know I'll be in Chicago Saturday night.
Ridin' my bicycle there. No big deeeeeal.
She surprised me with a ticket to her show!
Sweet. A goal. I love goals.

Several performers take a turn on stage.
Lots of people came out to enjoy.

It's the last Seitz and Sounds of the season.
I can tell this little social artful gathering meant a lot to some people.
Ya'll keep on rockin' in the free world!

I finally track the man down at Fiddler's Hearth.
The place is so vibrant I have to put my sought after friend on hold to try a new idea of mine
The Dry Man's Bar Review!

Our fated correspondence begins promptly after that.

What'd I tell ya 'bout givin' me a kitchen?
I make for myself and David a saffron curry with friend rice, eggs, onions, spinach, cashews and sunflower seeds, with a touch of agave.
Discovered a secret technique. It came out amazing!

The owner choose the bicycle theme for his tattoo shop to express,
"The freedom of going your own direction."

David Gutherie heads to the library to continue his work
and I head to the road to continue mine.

I leave South Bend by the West Side
The part of town some people warned me about
The part of town the students from Notre Dame never go.

And why not?
Nothing but swell little neighborhoods over here.

Friendly people walking around with their kids.
What is everyone so afraid of?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand
Corn.

Want to experience a real corn maze?
Get off the main routes and ride through the rural fields.
I was proud to pull out my compass and follow it to Chicago on this cloudy day

I was given a bit of the history of the land here.
Used to be marshland, back when settlers were movin' West.
Marshland used to be a good place to restock some food, huntin' pheasant and other game

But wasn't too useful for settlers once they hunted the places barren

So the plowed the area and turned it all into farmland.
These unnaturally straight man made canals are one sign of that.

It's always reassuring to see a sign.

This behemoth plant waterer was slowly rolling by itself.

I didn't turn to find out where it led.

Made of local limestone, the courthouse of this little Indiana town struck me.

Every day
decisions
paths
multiple doors to choose from
that lead to more doors to choose from
that lead to more doors to choose from
the lead to more doors to choose from

Nestled right under a highway
Who knew that Indiana had any trees!?

The wildlife was bashful I guess.
Nice place for a quick avocado though.

Found this little guy
scurrying away from me in terror.

By complete chance
including random zigzagging, trusting my gut, and letting birds decide my turns

I found myself at some food festival!

The Cheese People give me some cheese!

Thanks cheese people!

http://thecheesepeople.com/index.php/about/chicago/

With the promise of tea

I am led to the Red Cup Cafe

I really regret not having the time to do my food review here.
It would have been absolutely stellar
because this place is absolutely stellar!

Words can not express how much joy I felt eating that Peanut-Butter and Jelly cupcake.
If anyone is going through Chesterton, stop at the Red Cup cafe.
Little family run shops are where everyone who cares about their community should be shopping.

"Woah! What's THAT over THERE!?"
Hahaha got all four of 'em with the oldest trick in the book.
Cool dudes though. Remember,
"You're only a loser when you quit trying."

Lost South of the city
I happened upon some awesome graffiti party.
Again, wish I could have stayed, but I had a show to get to.

Finally! Lake Michigan!

Dump it all on in.
Make that money that's what we all need.

ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY RIDE INTO CHICAGO!!

Just kidding before.
This is Lake Michigan.
Chicago welcomes me with view of the abyss.
Happy to be here.

There's a foreboding mist over The Windy City as I pass the downtown on my way to Brittany's show. I am quite late, but we really did our best here. 91 miles through rain and Gary, IN and most of the whole city.
There was a time when I lived simply.
In a safe little bubble with a few friends and loved ones that would come and go, now and then.

Shelter is grand. To have that comfort and security is a luxury most consider a complete need.
Every so often, I miss that little bubble I lived in, with my video games and my girlfriend and my friends and maybe some ice cream or cookies.
The world felt simple then.
Not that it ever was, I had just buried my head in the sand to it, hoping any storms would pass me by,
and in the rich state of Connecitcut I had little to worry about.
Everything I've talked about this post are things I have learned on the road.
I learned them on the road because that is where I saw them.
When you get out of your bubble, when you expand to the greater world, you see things more clearly.
Traveling, it's like when it hits you that you're at college now and not at home anymore and this is awesome and wow what are we gonna do!? Except being on the road is so much cooler.
And being on the road, you also learn so much more than any college class can teach us.

At the time of this photograph, I am in the heart of the huge urban sprawl that is Chicago.
I am exhausted from riding all day. I am soaked from the constant drizzle, frazzled from the constant traffic. I know two people in this foreign city. An old pal from High School who I don't have the contact info of, and a lovely singer whom I made the acquaintance of two days ago.
I am weary, but I am not afraid.
I've been here before, and I will be here again.
It's just another class.
Chicago 10001 begins.

     Writing:
     So let it be known, please, that this is my first writing endeavor and thus began as an experiment. It has hardly been proofread/edited and the only thing about it I'm proud of is the title. I had wanted to get some tips from some Notre Dame professors at least while I was there but I messed that up so, alas, I shall throw it out into the internet for anyone to enjoy/suffer through/stop reading after the third paragraph.
     It took me a little more than a month to write, though that's more because of all the other things I spend my time doing, such as riding my bike. At the very least, I'm happy in that from reading it beginning to end, I can notice some improvement, so that's cool. So I'm sorry if the beginning is particularly more unreadable than the rest. If anyone does manage to read it, thanks a lot! And please please please leave a comment! Feedback of any kind is what I really need!

Lastly, in my typical blogging fashion, here is a selection of music I recommend to read by:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4Iow4cWvP0

     Day Long Love Song


     He was on his way to the Great Dance. For him it was just another stop along the road, but he knew for many others it was a grand occasion, so he was excited nonetheless. He had strode many miles already, the journey being longer than he had anticipated, but he had traversed through here once before and knew just ahead was a vessel that would bring him the rest of the way. The closer he came to the port the busier the streets of this city became with people. As he approached the dock for his ship, he noticed on the ground a hat. He was struck by its humble appearance; a cowboy sort of style, yet nothing flashy about it, just weaved wicker with a red fabric around the base of the middle.
     "Hmm, I don't really like it, but it's a shame to throw away such a nice hat. Maybe I'll meet someone who I can give it to." He mused to himself.
     He arrived at the landing, but learned he was short of fare. The ship did not leave for some time yet; he had just a few hours to acquire what he needed. He walked back onto the busy street, satchel in one hand, hat in the other. He looked at his new hat for a moment, then sat down and placed it in front of him. Many people passed by without seeming to even see him, so he began to sing.

     "Whaaaat iiiif
     the only reason there are dragonssss
     is so men may defeat themmmmm?"

     A few coins fell into his hat, until a lady with a similar hat on approached.
     "That's a nice hat you've put on the ground there."
     "Well, that's where I found it anyways."
     "Truly? I suppose you aren't the fool here then."
     "I hope not!" He laughed heartily, "What is your name m'lady?"
     Her complexion reminded him of ash and soot. She carried a wisdom about her that he could feel on his skin. Her robes were rainbows and stars, her pants red with white words he could not read."I am Elizabeth. Are you traveling to The Great Dance?"
     "Indeed I seek to, but I've still some coins to collect before I may."
     "Well I've only enough of that for myself, but I have some tea here if you like."
     "I'd only like such a gift if you were to join me in sipping it. The boat is yet to board."
     She smirked and said amusingly,"I suppose I could pass the time with you, stranger in the dirt."
     "It is not such a bad place to be, especially when you have tea."
     So they sipped an orange black tea together and shared wisdom they carried.
     "...but what if we ask for too much?"
     "Do not ask that traveler, for you will be given an answer. Just be happy with what comes your way..."
     After a time, and when the tea was gone, she stood, "The boat will be boarding soon. I hope to see you there sir."
     "And to you as well." She walked off, and he noticed that as they talked, the hat had gathered much money for him. He was close now, so he continued singing,

     "Whaaaat iiiif
     the only reason trolls guard bridgessss
     is so we may solve their riddlessss?
     Whaaaat iiiif
     the only reason we have demonssss
     is so we may overcome themmmmm?"

     Soon a trio on horseback trotted by. One of the rider's was atop a horse that had an uncanny resemblance to a steed he had traveled with previously. He felt the need to call to them,
     "Sir! Wait, sir! Just a word! I must tell you, in times past, I traveled down this very street on a steed such as yours. I must inquire, where do you head?"
     "My companions and I move to The Great Dance. Have you heard of it traveler?"
     "Why yes, I am going there myself, if I can find my fare."
     "Anyone who seeks the Dance shall arrive, or so they say." And with that the rider flicked a large coin into the hat on the ground, giving now more than enough for a ticket. He patted his horse and began to move forward without another glance.
     "Sir, thank you!" He called out, "But wait, please tell me, what is the name of your horse!?"
     Without looking back, the rider responded, "Pandora!" And then the three were gone.
     He picked up his hat and collected his fare. He looked at the unassuming accessory, felt the sun on his back and the sweat on his brow, and placed it atop his head. The riders had entered the port and were probably bringing their horses to stall. The ship was to leave soon, so he moved to purchase his ticket and board himself, singing as he went through his motions,

     "Whaaaat iiiif
     the only reason there are Mad Kiiiings
     is so the people may rise above theeeem?"

     There were many other passengers aboard the ship and the holds were merry. Aside from perhaps a few confused but entertained locals, most were also headed to The Great Dance as well, and many had begun imbibing already. He saw Elizabeth and the riders, but they were talking to other excited festival goers, so he did the same for a time, until the peace of the upper deck called to him.
     It was not a terribly far journey. The Great Dance this year was to be held on an island purposefully near that populated city to increase the participants. Just a few hours of sailing was all it took to arrive, though the island was large and no one knew where upon it the event would be held.
     "Anyone who seeks the Dance shall arrive..." He thought aloud as he watched the waves crash into the ship.
     "Naw tha' cannit be true. Not one bit I's say." He turned to see the captain of the ship walking to him.
     "I'ill tell yah lad, I's seen t'his dance ye'all seek, and I'ave carried maany to other dances on othar islands in years past, and not all return, I's tell ye' true."
     "You've been to The Dance?"
     The captain ignored him, "Seen plenty o'lads, jus' like you, tell me thar stories, tell me they'll see me aafter The Dance, even pay me in advaance to pick 'em up! Never do see 'em again, aand I wait! Don't you go tellin' no soul I don't I wait t'ree days fer'any maan that pay me to be tharr!"
     "I hadn't even thought of the return fare."
     "Well y'seem like'n okay lad. I'ill bring ye baack no charge, so long as ye' getun befur we cast off."
     "Oh wow! Thanks captain! Uhm, is there anything I can do?"
     "Yahaaa! Ye' jus' be careful on tha' island thar lad. If I'see ye' again, maybe I'kin find a thing fur ye' t'busy yer haands with! Oh! Thar she be now."
     He looked the direction the captain had glanced, and he could see the land on the horizon. He was transfixed for a minute, and by the time he turned back the captain was gone.

     The boat docked, its passengers disembarking in orderly frenzy. Those with no party congregated together on the shore. There was a certain energy floating about, as if each molecule of water vapor in the humid ocean air had some spell cast on it. The large gathering of seekers seemed to be taking stock, those with the strongest voice suggesting a direction to head. The island was large and The Great Dance hidden somewhere within its hills and trees. No one wanted to miss the event for being lost.
     As he came down from the vessel, he noticed the crowd, but immediately began walking the other way down the shore. He hated to follow, and loathed to wait. He figured if he stuck to the shore and walked around the perimeter of the island he would eventually find some sign he could follow from there to the dance. Plus, he enjoyed long walks on the beach, and seldom did he have the chance to enjoy them.
     So he walked along and alone, enjoying the sea breeze and the hot sand. He could see ships on the horizon, perhaps coming perhaps going. Turning left to traverse inland into the shade of the dense foliage was tempting, but something kept him by the water for now. He strolled down the coast for hours, the heat and sun beating him to exhaustion. He was suddenly very thankful for the hat he had found, its large rim keeping some shade on his face. He felt the skin on his arms begin to burn but still did not seek cover. Finally, when his hair was so wet inside his hat that sweat began to pour down into his eyes, he saw swirls of sand dancing up ahead of him.
     When he came upon the swirls, he momentarily forgot how overheated he was and felt a curious sense of wonder. First, he threw more sand into the swirls to see what would happen. When he saw the sand was pulled into the swirl, he wondered if he could remove the sand as well. He swatted at the swirls, grasping at the sand and throwing handfuls of it aside.  When he had nearly completely cleaned the largest swirl of wind, feeling the heat again, he stepped into it to cool down. Within the blowing air he made out the shape of a women of unparalleled beauty. He did not yet realize, but she was a Wind Spirit. She appeared suddenly, as a gust of wind always does, flying steadfastly in direction but not destination. Her robes were rainbows and stars. When he felt the ash and soot and wisdom blow through his hair he thought he knew, so he called out to her,
     "Elizabeth! It's you!"
     "Nay. Not I. You seek another."
     "Oh dear, I am so sorry! Then perhaps you would give me your name, and I can try again."
     And so she gave him her name, and he placed it close to his heart. Her breeze refreshed him, so he thought to follow her.
     "I was seeking The Great Dance, but I know not where to find it, so may I journey with you, for a time?"
     "I know not where I am bound either. You took the sand out of my hair and seem a cheery lad, so come with me this way."
     The two flew west over hot sand and spoke of freedom and finding. Something about her reminded him of days past, and he longed to hold her hand, but he said nothing. They soon came upon a small camp, not yet The Great Dance, and saw many revelers dancing to a Goddess of Wisdom. Without words, they joined in the movement, and both found the other's dance captivating. They slowly approached each other through dance, moving in synch to the drums and flutes. They never came close enough to touch, neither quite ready to step past that wall, but each could feel the other regardless.
     Their dance was so great the Goddess herself noticed and came down to join them for a time. Sand and Earth were blown about in a vortex of air and energy. Those who were not overtaken by this flow gravitated towards it and joined in worship. All who were able to remain within found themselves surprisingly weightless and levitated skyward away from the camp and the drums and the flutes. Each dancer became both instrument and player, melding with the sky, each movement creating unique sound and blasts of storm. Rain, hail, snow, sleet, wind, or fog released from each dancer. Some dancers approached the Wind Spirit, sending their hail or rain or snow or sleet toward her, but her dance and her wind was far too great for them, for neither they nor their projectiles could touch her.
     He watched all this as he danced—for he could not stop dancing—and was amazed. He knew this was only a warm-up for The Great Dance, but it was still the greatest dance he had ever known. He thanked his teachers and the universe for guiding him here. The Wind Spirit was dancing without him, and he dared not approach, lest he be swept up in her torrent of energy, yet he could not look away. Her gaze locked onto his and he was stunned. A great gust pushed at him, but he did not move. Her gaze became fierce. He was suddenly aware his hat was gone. Lightning came out of her in imperceptible circles. He looked around and saw he was alone in a dark cloud in the sky. She reached her arms to the sky in a most terrifyingly beautiful way he had never yet witnessed in his life.
     He suddenly fretted, "Wait! It's me!" But his words dissipated as they left his throat.
     She bellowed, the lightning flashed away, and the rain and hail and snow and sleet were sent toward him in a mighty gale. He had just a moment to realize that if he did nothing, he would be torn to nothing by this attack, so he did all that he could—he danced. He completely opened himself to the music of the sky and danced. He did not think or plan, only letting whatever force surrounded him guide his movements. Time slowed or bended or something incomprehensible to him which made the few moments of dance last for eternity or the mortal equivalent. All he knew was that he had withstood the elements. He saw a glimpse of a smile from the Wind Spirit, then light. The clouds parted and the dancers fell, slowly enough, to Earth. Pleased, the Goddess named this The Tornado Dance and departed back to her heavens.

     As the Storm dissipated, The Wind Spirit fluttered away with it, and he suddenly found himself alone and exhausted within the forest. Lost, he trudged onward, not getting far before stopping to nap briefly. He awoke to a light breeze in his face, and his hat blew into his lap. He stood and placed it atop his head, feeling suddenly energized. He resumed his march through the trees until he came upon a trio of masons erecting some sort of structure, the base of which seemingly mid-completion. Wood beams were tied together above a carved stone crevice.
     "It cannot be done! We have not the time!"
     "I will be completing this with or with you."
     "..."
     He hailed them and approached, "Greetings friends. What is this thing you make?"
     "It's a failed endeavor is what it is."
     "It is a water trap. We'll be able to use it to capture the water."
     "..."
     He thought it might be useful to know how to capture the water, so he inquired, "What will it look like when it is done?"
     "We hardly even know what we are doing, so your guess is as good as mine."
     "There will be a bridge overlaid in the middle, and water entering from any side will flow to the center. From there we will build a stair to descend to the water and access as we please.
     "...Can you see it?"
     Upon the third mason's words, the other two seemingly unawares, he noticed a fairie behind the second mason, whispering in his ear.
     "That's ridiculous. We do not have the materials, and at this rate we'll miss The Great Dance."
     "I do not care. We can at least partially complete it enough to capture the water."
     "..."
     "CREO EAM FIDUS. SEMPER TIBI. SEMPER TIBI SEMPER TIBIIIiiiiiii"
     He just barely heard the fairie's words and they were filled with hate and jealousy. His mind reeled, his blood boiled, and his heart filled with a lust for a dark thing he did not understand. The fairie was voluptuous and full, body aglow. Her lips brushed the mason's ear with each word sending her glow into his canal. Without pausing her speech, she looked toward him and through him. Her gaze entered through his eyes but hooked to his spinal cord, just behind his throat. He watched himself step forward, unable to stop himself from moving toward the seductive thing.
     As he lifted his left foot, a root had caught 'round his ankle and unbalanced him. He tottered, then fell backwards onto a bed of moss. The masons did not react. He looked up from the ground and felt invisible to them, the spell sinking into the plant he sat on. The first marched off muttering curses. The second, he noticed now never blinking, slowly returned to chiseling stone without a word. The third hadn't moved at all since he arrived. That mason continued to stare at the figure behind the second mason, unmoving. The fairie appeared blurry now as it continued to whisper. From the ground came a voice, "She can't see you. Run now."
     He saw a thread, hanging from the trees, or maybe the sky, or maybe his head. It split and one end was attached to the blurry fairie. The other end went off down the trail, towards the direction the first mason went. As he slowly arose, his thoughts betrayed him and he imagined the fairie and what would be if he moved toward her again and how he could reach her and have her and capture the water for her and his life would become that and nothing else would matter then. But a voice in his heart said No and he listened to that and it did not let him look towards her. His heart led him down the trail into the wood. His mind protested, angrily, trying to convince his heart of what could be gained, until he was a distance away, when his thoughts became quiet.
     The wood became denser as he moved through it. There was no water or food for some time, and he became sore and parched. His mind occasionally told him he was lost and he could die here, but he could hear some voice with his heart and it led the way. His head now clear, it knew it had failed him before, nearly taking temptation and bringing ruin. This shame allowed his heart to make each decision, currently. There was a long hill, and near the top of the climb the trees became more sparse until a clearing along a rocky ledge. He could see a hut on a landing and knew he had reached the place where he was supposed to be. He navigated the rocks to the hut and upon entering was greeted by a woman with sand over her skin, silt over her clothes, and clay over her hair. Or maybe the sand was her skin and the silt was her clothes and the clay was her hair—he could not tell. He did not yet realize she was an Earth Spirit, and she spoke to him as the Earth speaks to us all, with a care and love that exists within us from the moment we breathe or first to our last.

     "'Twas I who led you here..." and he knew the words she would speak before she said them, "so that you may learn your name..."
     She gestured to her left, and he noticed there were others in the hut. There were seats for twelve people, six on each side from the loamy lady, the entrance/exit to the hut directly across from her. Four people sat to the left of her, five people sat to the right of her. A large well built man in purple looked him over. Several well built women glanced momentarily, then returned to talking amongst themselves.  He took the sixth seat to his right, next to a kind looking woman with flowers in her hair.
     "How d'you do ma'am?" He said tiredly as he tipped his hat. He still didn't like it, but it was beginning to make him feel like a cowboy.
     "Well ain't you sweeter than sugar. I'm fiiiine, ya'self?"
     "I'm a little frazzled I think..."
     "An' why's that darlin'?" She said sincerely.
     "Well, I guess it's because I have no idea where I am, what I'm doing, or what's going on. At least, that's the start of it, I think."
     She snickered, "I reckon that'd even frazzle a gator! Lessee if I can help you out none. You in the dome of the Earth Spirit. You sittin' 'ere talkin' wit' me, and wese all about to go on a journey!"
     His heart sank. He was more hoping for a bed than a trip—he still hadn't made sense of the last one. "Maybe I should go..."
     "Naw honey, you wouldn't be here if you wasn't supposed t'be. You jus' make y'self comfy."
     The hut was pretty comfortable and he was already sitting, so he gave up on the idea of leaving pretty fast. As he thanked the kind woman, two more people walked in. One was a sharply dressed man, older, with an air of confidence about him. The other was, as far as he could tell, the most beautiful women he had ever seen in his life. She wore silk garments which flowed out from behind her like mist from a waterfall. She moved like ripples on calm water and poured into her place by the door, just next to him. He did not realize he was starring until words that were already in his mind came to the front of it.
     "We've been waiting for you. Thank you all for coming. Now, let us begin." And with those words the fabric at the entrance of the hut flapped shut. The Earth Spirit stood, "If you would all please lay down with your heads toward the center." She moved toward the center circle as everyone in the room turned around and laid as she instructed.
     The Earth Spirit held a drum and small mallet in her hands. The drum was ornate with feathers and a painting of a horse and some other things he could not recognize. She took a breathe to speak.
     "Today, we will delve into ourselves to find our spirit animals. Some of you may already know your animal, and that is fine, for perhaps you will meet them again today and commune with them. When I begin my song, close your eyes, and picture yourself entering a hole. You probably just pictured a hole when I said that. That is your hole! Go into that one. When you are in your hole, picture a light at the other side. Go to that light, and come out of the hole. Do not get stuck in the hole! The hole is not important. When you come out the other side, look around, and you will see an animal. Ask them if they are your spirit animal. If they are not, or if you see no animal, then begin to search. Is everyone ready?"
     No one spoke, so after a few moments The Earth Spirit began her song. She beat her drum and sang loudly. The drum was clearly in the room, but her voice seemed to echo out of each listeners depths. Their soul? Their heart? Their stomach or throat or feet or loins—none could say, the vibration was everywhere at once.
     He saw a hole from his childhood. A dark pipe, emerging from the side of a hill. Water would pour out during rain storms and it was usually clogged with leaves. It had always frightened him, that he might crawl in and be stuck and drown. That fear returned, and he frantically searched for another hole. He found one, from a book, he couldn't remember which one. The roots of an overgrown tree, the dirt having eroded away, created some entrance beneath it. He entered and fell for some time until the tunnel turned and weaved and he fell with its change of direction. He couldn't see light, he could only see himself falling, forever, the tunnel spinning and winding and bringing him nowhere except further and further underground until...
     He woke up. He sat up and saw everyone else in the room had already risen and seemed to be waiting for him. He moved back to sitting within the circle and quietly reflected on what he'd seen.
     "Would anyone like to share?" The Earth Spirit said.
     "Oh! I will! I will!" A small girl on the left side of the room said.
     "Okay, so, I went into my hoooole aaaand I came out the other siiiide and there was this unicorn and I was like, 'Hey are you my spirit animal?' and it was like, 'No.' and I was kinda sad but then it was like, "But I can take you there if you follow me.' or something so I followed it until I saw a fox and I asked the fox, 'Are you my spirit animal?' and then its head was cut off but it was smiling anyways and its body came back but was just its skin and it said, 'What do you think?' and then my body was just my skin and we both started laughing like a real lot for a long time. And that was it."
     "Thank you Fox, for sharing your experience."
     "Yeah I already knew I was a fox I just wanted to see him again!"
     "May I share next?" The kind woman sitting next to him said.
     "Well I don' wanna tell my story or nuttin' I just wan'id say I's a Bear. A big ol' mamma Bear! I dun askin' around a lotta animals but theys all tells me no and t'mosey on along, 'til I finds me that big ol' mamma Bear, and she says, 'Girl I been worried sick 'boutchu! Get yerself in line with the other cubs n'le'sgo!' And that was that."
     "Can I share next?" Another woman in the room spoke. She began speaking, but he toned her out when the woman who had sat next to him muttered, "I don't want to share..."
     "Me either. I didn't get out of my hole, I guess." He replied.
     She looked over, "I had no hole. No animals. There was nothing. I was just in an ocean. I didn't know which way was up. I wasn't drowning but I was alone. There was just water, everywhere."
     "You move like Water too." He whispered
     She looked down in thought, "...I never really thought about these things before. Do you think this is all real?"
     "Well, any thoughts you have when you are just thinking to yourself, such as when you're dreaming, are all thoughts that have only come from you. Like if I tell you to think of an elephant you'll think of an elephant, but you might not have thought of an elephant by yourself, right?
     "Okay?" She raised an eyebrow.
     "So I'm saying there's some reason you thought of what you thought. I don't know why, I'm not you, but if you figure it out maybe you'll learn something about yourself. Maybe."
     "I guess that makes sense. Thank you Alec."
     "Alec? My name's not..."
     The well dressed man leaned over, "I do not know of what you say Alec boy. I hear your words and they are, how you say, off?" The man was not speaking softly. The woman speaking raised her voice a bit, "So yes, I'm a Whale. And that's just stupendous, because I love Whales! It just makes sense!"
     The man had noticed the stares, "Ah I am sorry, am I to share next?"
     "So you see, it is our, how you say, hereditary? We have the energy in our souls, and if we love, then we find our selves. So we must love, yes? I love. I love very well. So you see, I know myself. I go into my dream, but I do not go into hole. Aha, I step over it, because I know. There is rat, and in his hands he shows me a rock, and it is wet from his crying on it. I kick it away, I know I am not rat. And because I do this, I know, there is the Lion. I am the Lion."
     He looked at the woman to his right and smiled and grabbed her hand. She looked away.
     "Thank you for sharing that, Lion. So we're all done with the first session, but we have time for another for those who wish to again."
     Most of the people stood and left. Bear sent him a wave as she passed by in front of him. Lion stood and looked at the watery woman.
     "Come, darling. The Great Dance, it awaits, and I must bring you there, absolutely."
     "I want to do this again. I think you should too... Lion..."
     "Again? Why again? Come come, no time to waste. We have far to be traveling and I am in much need for to go. Up up now." He seemed agitated.
     She looked to her right, "Are you staying?"
     He was not planning on staying, but he had been listening to their exchange and didn't much care for Lion's tone, "Yeah. I was going to try again."
     She turned back around, "Why don't you wait for me outside. I think you aught to do it again too though."
     Lion scoffed, "Feh! I am outside for when you are awake." And he walked out.
     She looked to The Earth Spirit, "We're ready."
     "As you wish, sister." She replied.
     Only the three of them were in the tent now. He and she lay down as they had before with their heads toward the center, their bodies one-third of the distance of the circular tent away from each other. The Earth Spirit stood a bit above the center now, just in between them both, completing the division of the space into thirds. She began her chant and drum playing, and he was soon back at that hole from his childhood, clogged and spewing water. It was still frightening, but he knew that that was the hole he needed to enter. He came to it and began shoveling the sticks and wet leaves out of his way. Water streamed out, and he crawled inside. Fear gripped his heart as the light was left behind him. The tunnel seemed to get smaller, and he knew if he got stuck here no one would find him and he would die. He was a child again then, but he continued onward, knowing this was the way. He could see a light at the end of the tunnel, and as it grew nearer his fear dissipated to relief.
     He came out upon some sort of theater stage. Lights shone onto a fabricated set of some room. He looked around; this couldn't be where he was meant to be. He saw a ladder in the corner, headed to it, and climbed up. The top was blocked with a manhole cover, but he moved that and came out into some sort of store. No one was there but there was tea and water. He felt frustrated now. He was confused and didn't quite comprehend this challenge but knew he wasn't where he wanted to be. He screamed and kicked the door of the store so that it was knocked off the hinges onto the ground outside. The glass on the door shattered and he walked outside.
     He was suddenly on a beach, alone. He heard a screech and looked upwards to see a Hawk. A great red tailed hawk larger than any raptor he had ever seen. It landed on something nonexistent in the air and starred at him. He starred back. The Hawk said nothing, but he understood. Hawk understood.

     Hawk opened his eyes and sat up. Once again, the other two in the room were already upright waiting for him. The Earth Spirit was speaking to the other woman.
     "How did you do?"
     "It was the same as before. I was lost in an ocean of water." She spoke somberly, "But I remembered what Alec here told me, and I somehow figured out which way was up, so then I went down. And I swam deeper and deeper and as I did I felt less and less. I was not me. I was becoming the ocean around me. And as I did I felt nothing but then I became the ocean itself and felt everything."
     The Earth Spirit moved to embrace her, "And The Earth holds The Water. You have done well today sister. I am proud of you."
     The Water Spirit silently cried and returned the embrace of her sister. Hawk felt like he was intruding and moved to leave.
     "Thank you Alec."
     Hawk turned. Now didn't seem like the time to correct the error in name. He still wasn't completely convinced he had truly found his name, "I didn't do anything. Just said what I thought."
     "Well not everyone does that. Most people just say what they think you want to hear." She rushed by him to the entrance way, "I'll see you later!" And she was gone.
     "Her trial is not yet over" The Earth Spirit said, looking after her, "You'll keep an eye on her, won't you?"
     Hawk's head was reeling, "Yeah. Sure." He looked at The Earth Spirit with the intent to ask a question, but suddenly felt the need for fresh air and said nothing. As he turned back around The Earth Spirit smirked and tilted her head in mild amusement.

     Hawk stepped outside of the tent. Had what he seen been real? Or was his mind fabricating imagery? If it was real why had he not known this before? If it was false, why did it make so much sense to him? Memories flooded back to him—lost in the woods years ago, he changed his direction towards a hawk call and found his way. He hadn’t given it a second thought. When he was younger, there was a place in the woods he escaped to when he was upset. There was a hawk nest there, for several season, which always brought him comfort. How did he forget about that? The season before he left his home—that was the season there was no hawk nest there.
     These memories and so many more came into his awareness like waves upon a shore, crashing in his head one after another. Questions were handled as seashells may be—Hawk would pick one up, examine it, then either put it in his pocket for later, be satisfied with his understanding of it and drop it, or throw it into the ocean, for some questions have no answer, but will return when we have the pieces to solve them. Hawk was dropping very few seashells. His pockets had filled quickly with them. He was grappling in confusion which shells to keep and which to throw away when The Earth Spirit appeared.
     “Any thought you have while meditating comes from you. The thoughts can come from no other place.”
     He heard her, and dropped a seashell in his hand to the ground.
     “This is why we seek solitude. To create without disruption. To seek without distraction. To determine without misdirection.”
     More shells dropped.
     “Sometimes we can not let go of a question. Or a shell. We do not have the piece ourselves which we need to understand, so we carry it with us.”
     Was she reading his mind?
     “As we carry it, it gains weight. It slows us down, gets in our way, blocks us on our path. That’s just the way seashells are.”
     Hawk’s mind began to feel a sort of fatigue—not tired exactly. More simply full.
     “Those who can not let go can not move, eventually. They cease walking their path.”
     “But how can we go of something so vital to us?” Hawk asked.
     “Faith. Faith that the shell will return when you are ready. Though there are other ways…”
     “What? What other ways?”
     She was suddenly directly in front of his face, pushing up the rim of his hat with her forehead. She took a slow breathe.
     “…You could go for a swim.”
     She looked straight into him then, and he could feel her vision seeing into places he didn’t even know he had. Feeling challenged, he starred back, and suddenly and shockingly realized he wanted her. He had the choice of feeling unsettled or aroused. He went with the latter.
     “You’re beautiful.”
     “Thank you.” She replied, unphased. Then she smiled, “As expected, you have good eyes.”
     Hawk suddenly felt out classed. He moved his head from hers, just an inch, “Why… Did you ell me all that?”
     “Because you were listening.” She replied, matter-of-factly. “You get one more question.” A finger covered in sand or maybe it was sand rose up between them.
     Hawk considered several possibilities, most of which a suave attempt at requesting more time with the literally but not quite figuratively grounded girl. However, there was still too much rattling around in his mind to even attempt something so bold. He went with what he figured he aught be asking anyway.
     “What should I do now?”
     She grinned broadly from ear to ear. “Now, you soar down your path, Hawk!” And with that she turned quickly away towards her tent. Hawk felt in his bone that he would not see her again.
     “Wait! Just… Just one more question!”
     She turned, with a raised brow, “Hm, alright. Just for those eyes.”
     “What is your name?”
     And he knew what she would say before she spoke it.

     Hawk wandered back into the wood. At some point in the tent, the sun had set, and darkness was just not giving way into night. This time, he somehow felt he knew where he was going. The Great Dance was West of him—there was no doubt in his mind. However, the questioning voice now looked inward. Are you really supposed to be here? You won’t be welcomed. Who do you think you are? Your delusions of grandeur are growing ridiculous. How could you be a Hawk? You’re a baby chick and you’re alone in the forest at night and you can’t even fly and you’re going to die. You’re going to die baby. Run. Hide. Do anything but keep walking that direction. Turn around now or you’re going to die. Don’t you get it that’s the wrong way you’re about to drop off of a cliff and it’s going to hurt and you can’t fly.
     Hawk kept marching West, slowing his pace more and more as time went on. The voice was unmistakably his, but he also was sure it was coming from somewhere else. The Forest perhaps? It was as if there were another him, whispering in his own ear, or maybe his lips were thinking by themselves now and had stretched to his ear and were now trying to poison his mind so they could take over and control the body. Hawk felt dizzy. He knew there was something amiss with his thoughts but he couldn’t do anything about it. All he could do was keep walking. Keep going West, the direction he knew he had to go. Maybe The Forest was playing tricks on him. Maybe at night the trees wake up and plan how to drive men mad. Or maybe The Forest is a live thing and it doesn’t want him there and it’s trying different ways to get him to leave but pretty soon it’ll be fed up and just send some large predator to slay him or maybe some tiny poisoner. Or maybe it’s all just a reflection of Hawk’s natural fear of the dark unknown woods and he’s failing to control his imagination or separate illusion from reality. He did now know. The only thing he knew was that he was going in the right direction. Hawk kept marching West.
     After some amount of time that he did not have the capacity to measure, Hawk saw a glow ahead of him. He discounted it as another trick his mind was playing on him so he kept marching West, until he noticed the light flickering. It grew even brighter as he approached. Finally, coming around a tree, he saw the fire, humbly burning in a small pit.
     Hawk’s head was throbbing now. He could not ascertain when that had begun. His shoulders were stiff, his arms were jelly, and leg muscles he did not even know he had were aching. The moment his consciousness recognized he was at a safe place, whatever was holding him up let go. He fell to one knee, his head coming to rest on the other. He tried to stand but his body would not listen. He managed to look up just a bit at the fire, the smoke and sparks obscured by the rim of his hat. For an imperceptible duration Hawk lost his perception of time, so it felt to him that he had lost himself in that release of energy for eternity. Fortunately, a soft voice saved him.
     “You like the fire?”
     He did not turn to look at her, “It is marvelous.”
     “Thank you.” And then she smiled, and he felt her smile on his skin greater than he could feel the warmth of the flame. She took off his hat, “You should rest here. You need it.”
     “I can’t” he replied wearily, “The Great Dance… I have to, make it.” He didn’t sound very convincing.
     She shifted herself behind him. Hawk suddenly felt a pull on his shoulder; he didn’t even think to resist. He found himself laying on his back with his head in the lap of a lady so marvelous it hurt his eyes to look at her. She looked away.
     “You need a break.” She told him assuredly, “You’ll still get to The Great Dance, I promise. It doesn’t end until dawn you know.”
     Hawk simply nodded. He suddenly became aware of her smell—Ash and smoke and sweat and something burnt—and it was all he could smell.
     “Is there anything else you need?” She seemed to wonder aloud. It was genuine concern that truly struck him. Why was she being so kind to him?
     “I don’t know what I need.” A small creek of water came from his eyes then.
      Neither spoke or moved for what felt an instant and an eternity at once. The only sound was the crackling of wood combusting into ash. Hawk closed his eyes, but the pain in his head was intense and did not allow him to slumber. He finally saw his hat on the ground next to them, then finally turned toward her.
     “What do you think of my hat?”
     Her eyes had been closed. She opened them with a small startle, “It… Is a well made hat. They do not make hats like this any longer. Very good quality.”
     “Do you like how it looks?”
     She smiled, “Yes! I think it looks very good on you. Very cool, yet humble”
     He looked back toward the hat, “Cool yet humble… Cool.”
     “What’s your name cowboy?”
     “I’m, Hawk. What’s yours lady?”
     And she gave him her name, and it burned through his ears down to his chest.
     “Will you hear my song?”
     “Please.” He replied pleadingly.
     She looked away from him, toward the fire but past it—far, far past it—breathed in slowly, and began.

     Goooodniiiight my cowboy, wherever you rooooam
     Your sweetheart is waiting at hoooome.
     Where do you goooo? What do you seeee?
     I wonder do you ever think of meeee?

     Goooodniiiight my cowboy, wherever you arrrre
     Your sweetheart is waiting not faaaar.
     Come giiiive me a kiiiiss, back in my siiiight
     All Gunpowder and Rattelesnake biiiite

     And that was all he heard, for then he slept. He did not dream, save for the fire. He dreamt of flames and flames, smoldering lowly with no fuel, hungry for tinder. He watched as he fell into the flames and he watched as a Fire Spirit appeared in the way fire always appears—with a spark and a roar (or a whisper) and heat and smoke. And then she was gone, and all that was left was a pile of soot.
     Hawk awakened. His head had been lain down on his hat. The fire was now just glowing embers and it was dark. He figured he must not have slept for long, but felt rather refreshed regardless, albeit groggy. He stood and heard music coming from somewhere. The trees made the sound echo and he could not pinpoint the location. Then suddenly he knew—West. He picked up his hat, shook it off, and examined it closely.
     “Well made… Cool, yet humble…”
     He didn’t need the hat now he knew, as it was night. He glanced at the hungry embers, patiently waiting for kindle and a stoking. Hawk smiled and donned his hat, feeling comfortable in it for the first time. A sudden wave of excitement came over him. He had traveled long and far and now at last he would arrive at The Great Dance. He began jogging in the direction of the music, holding his hat to his head as he ducked under branches or hopped over roots. He let himself imagine what it might look like. No two people had ever described it the same. “Like a waterfall and you’re the water but you go up instead of down and you go up forever” and “It’s kinda like what heaven probably is except more girls. Way more girls” were a couple of his favorite reports. The music grew louder and finally after a final vault over a raspberry bush Hawk had reached a clearing.
     The field was huge and Hawk could immediately see, some half mile away, a heavy throng of people surrounding some sort of stage. Lights and colors emanated from that center as music fueled the crowd’s movement. Further away from that point, including immediately around Hawk’s vicinity, people stood or laid around talking, trading, smoking, eating, or sleeping. Tents and makeshift structures had been erected side by side each other in rows, leaving space in between the rows to create streets wide enough for four horses to stand side by side. Hawk began making his way through this city, fully awake now with wonder and amazement.
     “Howdy friend! How yah doin’?” said a tall wildly dressed man.
     “Heeeey!” said a pair of ladies; both dressed or maybe only painted as cheetahs.
     “Nice hat there fella’” said a tanned regally dressed man with a cowboy style hat of his own—his adorned with shells.
     “Thanks! You too.” Fantastically dressed people were walking along everywhere, and each seemed to be merrily greeting each other.
     “Hey man! Have a great night!” said a short man dressed entirely in purple with purple hair.
     Hawk felt a tinge overwhelmed.
     “Welcome to The Great Dance! You made it! We’re so happy you’re here!” said a shirtless woman wearing puffy rainbow pants whose hair flowed down to her knees and immediately gave Hawk a hug.
     He began to feel more comfortable.
     “Yo dude, where did you get that hat it’s killer!” said a tired looking but clearly not feeling shirtless man in black with white stripped leggings.
     “I just found it on the ground—I guess in a way it found me.”
     “Wooooah dude no waaaay. That’s awesome, right!?”
     “Yeah I really lucked out.” Hawk wanted to get to the dance, but found this man oddly amusing, so he made no motion to move away. He scanned the man and noticed a bracelet of bone beads he hadn’t noticed before.
     “Cool bracelet. Where’d you get that?”
     “Oh you dig? It’s awesome, right!? A gal I was into gave it to me before I hit the road. When I see her again I’ll hand it back to her.”
     “Awe, that’s sweet.”
     Right!? Hey dude you should come chill with me and my compadres! We’re smokin’ up right over here come on and join us!”
     Hawk didn’t see why now, “Alright, but just for a minute I have to go dance.”
     “Right!?”
     The white stripped leggings man led the way to his camp, smiling and pointing at and greeting near everyone they passed. After an entertaining trek they finally arrived at the camp.
     “Yoooo I found this cool guy to chill with us!”
     “Uh, salutations, ya’ll.” Hawk said respectfully.
     The camp was simply a roof of straw and leaves, held up by four branch poles. Directly next to other such camps, it was clearly simply designed to provide shade, cover from rain, and claim space. They had decorated it through with colorful drapery on three sides, giving the illusion of walls. There were several different drapes. One had a picture of a glowing red man and a glowing blue woman, adorned in feathers, standing together but looking up at the sky. Another was an image of a female warrior with long flowing red hair in some sort of battle armor. Another was The Buddha. The rest were all mixtures and swirls of multiple colors. A man sat behind a table in the left corner, which had a number of small paintings on them, each also a mixture or swirl or pattern of multiple colors. The man immediately stood up upon Hawk coming into the space.
     “Well hey there! Name’s Tiger! Thanks for join’ us!” He extended his hand in greeting, which Hawk took and returned. He was a huge and hairy man who wore a similarly sized smile that did not fade even after he sat down. To the right, an older man was cooking eggs and mushrooms over some embers and coal.
     “Welcome. Yer just in time fer some eats.” Hawk suddenly realized how hungry he was. The cooking man motioned to a chair in front of the eggs and Hawk sat.
     “Wow, I would be truly thankful for that.” Hawk said, and he truly was.
     “Good! We’re happy to share. Food is love, after all. Ain’t that right Dorice?”
     A middle aged woman in blue robes sat in front of Tiger’s table inhaling from a pipe. “So’s this.” She said as smoke blew out her mouth and nose and she handed the pipe to Hawk.
     “Nice to meet ya’ Dorice.” Hawk said as he took the pipe. A familiar green herb was burning inside. “Thank you all so much! Inviting me to join you here is so so kind of you.” Hawk slowly inhaled. Being cautious not to take too much.
     “It’s the hat maaaan!” The shirtless man said as he sat on the ground between Tiger and the cook. “Hey would you trade that thing? I want it on my head!”
     Hawk took it off and looked at it, “Y’know, I didn’t like it at first, but it has really grown on me. I can’t pass it on now, sorry.” Hawk lifted the pipe, still in his right hand. The cook whose hands were full motioned with a nod to his right, so Hawk handed the pipe to the man who wanted his hat.
     “It’s cool man. I knew you wouldn’t trade it, I just had to ask, right!?” He breathed deeply from the pipe, then handed it to Tiger as he made smoke rings in the air.
     “Wow, impressive.” Hawk said. The herb kicked in then, “Let me tell ya’ll a story.”
     Dorice lit up, “Ooo! Ooo! I love stories!” The encouragement was all hawk needed.
     “This happened, I’d say, hm, about a year ago. It was at a dance, like this one, but not nearly so large and not nearly so magical and no one was nearly so friendly. It was not in a field like this either. The dance was densely among the trees. The musician’s name was, hm, Cosmic Hare, I think. This was my first time at such a gathering, so I was observing in the back, dancing alone at my own pace. People were spread out dancing through the trees. It was pretty cool!”
     Hawk took a moment to breathe. The smoke he had inhaled made him quite talkative and a little woozy. He continued.
     “So I see this man and woman dancing to the side. I don’t know what was said or done, but the guy suddenly sends some sort of shockwave at the lady and she flied back. I see the wrath in his face, so as he approaches her I get in between them. Back then, I didn’t know how to dance. I have enough time to tell him to ‘Stop’ when I’m blasted by the same sort of whatever it was. I guess I’m just heavier than her though ‘cause I don’t fall back as far.
     “I get back up and two more people have appeared. I look to each of them and yell, “Help me! This guy is attacking us!” They look at each other confused one mutters, ‘us?’ I then notice that girl had run off. That’s good, because one of the men look to the attacking guy and say, ‘Hey, you want some help with this guy comrade?’ The next thing I know I’ve been burned and blasted again and I rolled down a hill into a sort of ditch and that’s all I remember.”
     “Woah! You almost died there!” Tiger said.
     “Yes, but since then, as I’ve been traveling, I’ve been learning and practicing how to dance. Now, I know what they were doing, and I know I can do better than that. I also know now that I was led here for a reason, thanks to you all.”
     “Hey we didn’t do nuthin’, ‘cept feed ya!” The cook had put the now ready food on some plates and handed one to Hawk, who took it was a small bow.
     “That’s not true. You helped me remember. And now I see my path clearly.” He began eating his food with alarming pace. “Ffan yoo again fer’ his.”
     “Name’s The Cook, by the way.” The Cook said with a wink as he passed another plate to Tiger.
     “Thank you.” Tiger said humbly. “You know, while you were talking, I hope this is okay, I painted your aura. Would you like to see it?”
     Hawk swallowed, “My aura?”
     Tiger straightened, “Yes. I can see peoples’ auras. It’s like, well it’s hard to describe but, when someone expresses themselves or just talks with me, they exert their energy into the world, and I can see that. Everyone’s’ is unique, and has different patterns and colors to it. The hue can change just a bit depending on the person’s mood, and the more they express the clearer I can see it.”
     Tiger handed him the small paint board, “Care, it’s still wet.”
     With fork in one hand, Hawk held the painting with the other. The center of the picture was a dark black orb about the size of a plum. Blue and white interspersed lines radiated outwards swirling to the left, giving the viewer the impression of being pulled in. Hawk put his fork down to contemplate the image. For a few moments, the group sat quietly eating their eggs, the rumble of the yonder ongoing dance gently vibrating the air.
     "Thank you Tiger." Hawk handed the painting back and stood, "It is time I got going. Thank you all."
     "You can keep the painting if you like."
     "Perhaps I'll come back for it. I can not carry it where I'm going."
     "We'll see you later then." Tiger said with a smile.
     "Come back when you're hungry. Go build up an appetite!" The Cook said.
     "I might catch up with ya! I wanna see this guy dance, right!?" The shirtless man said enthusiastically as he looked around. Hawk laughed and turned to go.
     "Knock 'em dead cowboy." Came Dorice's farewell.
     "Only if they deserve it." Hawk said over his shoulder, then began jogging towards the center.

     As Hawk moved toward the stage of lights and sound, the tents around him became denser at first, then disappeared completely. After a clear space with no tents, just people walking about, the throngs of the crowd began. Hawk knew he belonged up front, but getting there was an additional challenge. People were more spread out towards the back of the crowd, so Hawk cut around them easily. When the density of people became too thick to simply move, Hawk came up with a strategy based on the following observations:
     Within the crowd there are three types of people. Firstly, there are people that stand around, transfixed or otherwise not moving. When these "peg" types stand side by side they form a "wall." Secondly, there are people that are standing in one space but swaying side to side, some more so than others, and usually to the beat of the music. When these "rock" types stand as part of a "wall" they form a "door." Hawk's strategy was to find the "doors" among any walls, time their swaying, and jump through the small space they create. Hawk moved through the crowd in just such a way until he finally made it to the front area where he found the third type of person: A person that moves their feet. These are the people that are not standing in one space at all, instead dancing in a radius around them. The first and second types of people instinctively stay out of these peoples' way by standing out that radius.
     Hawk also saw the reason for these different types of people. The difference is simply the extent to which each individual allows the energy of the music to flow through them. Those that are not ready shut themselves away from it and simply watch, and perhaps think. Those that are learning can let a bit in and have begun to move and feel it. Those that can open themselves to it fully no longer need to think but simply feel and move. Now where he wanted to be, he let the energy flood into him and Joined the dance.
     For those only upon The Earth it is a strange sight to behold—groups of people, moving their bodies in rare ways. Something is within them, and those whom have touched it can feel it. Heaven is here, or rather the dancers are not here, but there. Hawk was there now. He was flying. He was looking. He saw Bear, he saw Water, he could feel Wind and he knew Earth. Was there another? He soared, without hunger, simply watching. He saw all the rodents—the squirrels and the rats and the chipmunks and the mice and the shrews. Here they are brothers and sisters. Here they are friends. He could see everyone, everything, so what was there to search for? He sailed in simple ecstasy, patiently pondering this question, until he was given his answer; his perch. His perfect perch, built high upon The World, where he could rest yet still see. Always seeing. Seeing the words written in the sky—these words—which have always been there.
     The Great Dance showed no signs of slowing as more and more people joined the slow of energy. Hawk, of course, danced, moving through the current of people were it led him. He found Whale, and they danced, distantly, with a world between them. He found Bear, and the danced, closely, with reverence between them. He found Fox, and they did not dance, for Fox is always dancing but will dance with few. He found Water, and she smiled at him and danced away, swirling beautifully and flowing away. Hawk danced his way to the center, upon the stage. Other dancers were there as well, but where was the music coming from? Where were the musicians? Beat and rhythm and tempo and treble and bass all bounced and waved along through the air and the hearts and minds of everyone letting it in. From above, a sweet female voice rang with it all.
     Do not as you feeel
     From here, Hawk could see everything. He could see each dancer, those moving and not. He could see the energy in the air. He could see each part of the whole each person was. The center stage, filled with dancers, a swirling black orb of energy. Each dancer both fueling and fueled by it, enlightened from the exchange. Outlying this, people swaying and bobbing, filtering the energy to a blue or white trail, streaming outward to the left. Finally, a wall of people shut off yet watching. A net, holding the energy inside like the glass of a greenhouse, creating perfect entophy. Hawk looked up from here, and saw purpose. He read it in the sky. Words, that were always there.
     Do as you wish to feeeel
     The Hawk saw a crack in the orb then, and a deep blue and a poison purple seeping through. He saw The Water Spirit in the center, dancing elsewhere, oblivious to the corruption threatening her. Around her, the Man who Said he was a Lion, and two of the masons from earlier. They lifted The Earth, and the structure Hawk had seen before appeared, rising from the splinter in reality. The Water Spirit did not even notice and simply flowed herself inside for that was her nature and the mason shut a latch and she was trapped. She suddenly realized and let loose a torrent of water, but the walls were constructed to withstand that and she was swept away by her own current. The Man who Said he was a Lion and the masons laughed and whooped and taunted, the blue and poison purple flowing out of them, into the water, polluting her. Though they did not hear it, the voice above.
     Do not as who you arrre
     Hawk heard, and he saw. He took flight from his perch, soaring higher than before, then suddenly cut down to begin his descent. His hat flew away from him then, but he was not concerned with that now. A diving hawk is the fastest living creature, blasting downward at more than 200 miles per hour. There were three of them—Hawk knew he must end two quickly. His ultimate dance, the wind around him became blades, the trail of vacuum behind him a cannon. He roared, "CAAAAWWWW" as he fell upon the larger of the masons. He was gone before he ever comprehended he was even in danger. Hawk swooped immediately towards the fatter mason, believing he would respond slower to this surprise. He spun, just as he had seen The Wind Spirit spin, and danced her dance. Hawk had learned dance in the same such way, by seeing, by experiencing, by copying, and by improving. The Tornado Dance.
     Do as who you wish to beeee
     The builder bellowed and began to move but tripped, his short scream cut off by the wave, and he was gone. The structure holding The Water Spirit was now directly next to Hawk, to his left as he faced the Man who Said he was a Lion. The low man squeaked and hissed with body aspasm and arms vibrating unnaturally and a sickening miasma of the blue and purple energy quickly creeping out of his pores and shot at Hawk as uncountable arrows. The music, the dancers, the energy, the voice—nothing stopped.
     Do as your heart guides you
     Hawk spun clockwise, wind veering the deadly arrows just barely away, curving then towards his right into the ground. He was on the defensive and could not move. The corrupted energy was unrelenting, pushing closer and closer to his throat. Hawk knew he could not keep this up forever, or even much longer. The source of the corrupted energy noticed seemingly and started floating towards and into the Man who Said he was a Lion, charging his attack five-fold. Hawk bucked and exerted himself. He had less time than he thought. His mind suddenly gave him a plan, but he would need at least three bursts of strength. Did he have it in him?
     He had no choice but to try. The first, and most crucial. With a deep breathe and gritted teeth and a yell from every node in his legs he pushed the arrow away and nearly pushed the mason, but the arrows came back almost immediately. Hawk's push had created a space though, and the time it took for the arrows to fly through that space again gave him just enough time to change his direction, he now spun counter-clockwise, deflecting the sharp deadly lines of light to his left—directly into the structure.
     The Man who Said he was a Lion did not seem to notice and kept sending death at Hawk. Hawk held out, barely, knowing he would have to push twice more, the timing of the next being of utmost importance. Death continued at him, and Hawk started to pace his breathing, until finally, from all the misdirected energy bashing into it, the structure began to break. Hawk just needed to wait for the purported Lion to notice, and in the moment of surprise he would falter and Hawk would strike. Hawk waited for his moment and waited with faith and struggle and yet still his adversary did not seem to notice! The structure was taking damage but it would last far longer than Hawk would. Was the plan, his only plan, a failure? Had the Lion? already noticed and Hawk had missed his chance? No, trust your eyes. Perhaps, there never was a chance? Perhaps this Rat pretending to be a Lion was so confident in the masons' work he knew it would out last Hawk, so he would finish Hawk first then repair as needed. The arrows mere inches away from his head and his heart, was this it?
     Suddenly, from the small crack which had been made, a forceful spray of water. The Rat's eyes widened—he hadn't noticed the damage at all and was now completely off guard. Now was Hawk's chance! He put everything into his dance, every bit he had left, everything he had learned, and sent it at The Rat. The weakened arrows shot away in all angles, unable to stop Hawk's blast from slamming into The Rat's chest, breaking his sternum, cracking his ribs, and flinging him backwards to crunch against a tree, shattering his hip. Hawk breathed but did not rest. He knew there was one more opponent to face.

     The fairy appeared above the structure looking very irate. She smiled, and told Hawk to sit with her eyes, but Hawk had his True Sight now and could see the foul truth of her soul, filled with negative energy, rotting and hallow. He saw her, and was not tempted at all.
     Hawk spat on the ground, "Begone vile creature. You don't belong here."
     The fairy's face furrowed, her voice high and obnoxious; painful to the ear, "You dumb bird! I have The Water Spirit now. She's MINE!"
     The fairy scooped up water from the pool below her, instantly polluting it with her energy, and splashed it on Hawk. He felt momentary great pain as the energy seeped inside of him, and momentary thoughts of rage and hurt and power cut through his heart, but the energy from The Great Dance also flowed freely through him, and the fairy's corruption simply spread out in it. Hawk could feel the visceral change, the want to own The Water Spirit, and everything else he could reach, but with the love being generated by the dancers around him, it was easy—simple—to say no. To choose instead to do this:
    Hawk took a deep breathe. He had saved nothing for this third push, though he always knew he'd have to push somehow. The fairie, unaware of Hawk's triumph within his heart, laughed condescendingly towards him.
    "See? You're just a stupid fat robin."
     Hawk couldn't dance any more.
     "My name..."
     But he coul clench his fist.
     "is Hawk!"
     And he punched the crack in the structure with all his might. His hand broke as he punched his arm into and threw the wall, creating a hole which was plugged by his arm. He could feel water to his elbow on the other side, and for a moment nothing moved. The the crack blew open, a tidal wave of water flooding out, washing Hawk several yards away.
     "HIYEEEEE!" The Water Spirit cried angrily as she emerged from the trap, torrents and geysers springing out from her and the ground. She turned to the fairy, the vengeance of the sea running in her veins.
     "Oh no no NO!" Were the only words that bothered Hawk's ears as every spray of water converged and crashed into the hovering hate-filled thing. Water continued to flood everywhere, upheaving and destroying the previously water proof building. Hawk floated on his back and was swept away.

     Throughout the entire battle, no one had stopped dancing. Any too close had moved to a safe distance away, and some watched from there, but some did not so much as glance. Only those meant to witness the story were able to perceive what they saw, just as only some are meant to read these very words. After all, there are other stories to read, just as The Hawk and The Fairie's fight over Water was not the only struggle at The Great Dance. Space enters intangibility there—revelers are not confined to the one Earthly realm, though few have any control as to where they go, which is as it should be, for everyone goes where they are meant to. Hawk found himself now going exactly there—where he was meant to go.
     Hawk did not perceive how or when but he was floating in a large river, clutching a splinter of wood which glowed blue and purple. The river current then became fierce, rapids against rocks with enough force to easily break limbs. Hawk had no control and clutched the fragment of lumber as strongly as he could to stay afloat. He was spun and tossed about. He was smashed into a rock twice. The first time only winding him, the second splintering his left shoulder, and he went under, but he pulled himself back atop the wood and the current soon slowed again. The river narrowed until it somehow became a stream not deep enough to swim in. There was no where else to walk, as in literally away from the stream no space seemed to exist there, so Hawk lifted the hunk of wood onto his back and began walking down the small flow of water.
     The rocks and dirt and sticks soon became paved brick of shining silver and the stream winded through a great copper gate that had long been tarnished sea green. The waterway ended in a shallow circular pool on the West side of a marvelous hall. Before Hawk could look around, a booming voice rattled his ears.
     "What are you doing? We drink from there you know. Get out of there!"
     Hawk complied instantly, then looked up to see a giant of a woman in flowing robes of fire sitting what seemed to him as nothing but was actually a Throne of Wind. Her skin was sand or silt or clay or some Earth but it was also as smooth as silk and her eyes were deeper than the deepest part of the ocean. A deepness that evokes not only wonder and amazement and a tinge of longing but also fear, pure primitive fear fear, as if one could be lost in that deepness and never found. Never. Never. Hawk looked away from her and surveyed the room.
     The Goddess sat on the North side of the hall. There was a pool of water on the East and West side of the room, both connected to a canal that exited the room. Water flowed in from the West and flowed out to the East. There were two large red doors on the South side. The space was huge and seemed to go up forever. Some opening somewhere above let a gentle light in. The light refracted from the many many crystals coming out as if growing from the marble walls, shining small rainbows around the room. Hawk looked around in amazement until a booming voice startled him to attention.
     "Ahh. I see you have brought me supper." The Goddess spoke as she reached over, her arm seeming to stretch longer than it appeared to be, and plucked the wood from Hawk's grasp on his back. She snapped the wood and it fell flaming to the ground, burning to nothing in moments. In her hand remained the fairie. The Goddess brought the fairie to her mouth and Hawk saw the anger and fear in its eyes. He felt piety, and tried to show that, but looked away as it disappeared behind the Great Woman's teeth. Hawk looked down and waited. After a few moments had passed, she spoke again.
     "Never forget the brutal nature of the universe, child."
     Hawk nodded. He dare not look her in the eyes.
     "I saw your scuffle with my wind child. I was impressed, so I sent you to help my water child, and you impressed me again."
     Hawk knew each of his words must be chosen carefully and given with reverence, "Thank you for allowing me  to serve you."
     "No, thank you." She boomed, "What is it you wish? I can reward you with... Anything."
     Hawk answered immediately without taking the time to hesitate, "I just wish, to see her again." He raised his head to show sincerity, but still did not dare look directly into her eyes.
     The Goddess tilted her head, as if to ask "who?"
     Hawk answered with his heart.
     She laughed, dryly, "Ahh, very well, but you'll have to speak with him as well. That's only fair." She stood, towering over Hawk. She stepped over him and by the time her foot landed she was by the ruby doors, now the size of an average human.
     "Farewell, beautiful raptor." And she closed the gate behind her.
     Hawk watched the door close and starred for a moment, pondering who "him" was. As if in answer, he felt the air in the room heat up and begin to move behind him. He turned to see, where was once empty space the empty space of the wind throne, now stood a humongous and brilliant phoenix.

     The Phoenix let out a mighty cry, sending out a wave of sound and heat and wind in all directions. The Hawk lowered himself through the blast, then returned his own formidable cry. There was no wave of energy, but the pitch was higher, which made The Phoenix cringe. It responded by spreading its wings and taking flight into the empty space above. The Hawk followed it, finding that the wind of the throne now blew upwards without end.
     The two birds did the same, though no matter how far they climbed the top always appeared equidistant away. Once high enough that they could barely be seen by anyone watching from the ground, they began circling the space, each aiming to be behind the other. When The Hawk was nearing The Phoenix's tail, the great bird of rebirth somersaulted upwards, slowing its flight and, for a moment, soaring above The Hawk, before spinning its body like a drill and coming down on The Hawk. The flying creatures now fell together, clawing and biting and screaming at each other.
     Being the larger bird, The Phoenix had the advantage in this grapple. After a third claw to his chest, The Hawk broke away, only to catch his fall, swoop behind The Phoenix, and dive into its backside. The Phoenix spread its massive wings widely to slow itself as The Hawk slammed it into one of the large protruding crystals along the walls. The Hawk had The Phoenix pinned and tore into the back of its neck. As he did, however, the previously violet crystal glowed a spectacular reddish-orange. When The Hawk began to bite again, The Phoenix erupted into flames.
     Burning now, The Hawk jumped back and fell, thrasing in the air to put out the fire. The alight Phoenix followed him, and when the fires on The Hawk finally had died, The Phoenix dived on The Hawk from his side. As the ground floor approached The Hawk tried to spread its wings to slow its fall but one wing was pined under The Phoenix and it was not enough. The Hawk put one wing out to on and break his fall. The wing snapped backwards and The Hawk's face was pushed into the floor as the two birds came crashing and sliding to a halt.

     The huge red man lifted Hawk with one arm by simply grabbing the back of his head and holding tightly. Hawk winced in pain—his arm very broken from the landing. The red man touched the back of his neck with his other hand, then looked at the blood he felt and smiled.
     "Not bad." He said, genuinely impressed.
     "Thanks." Hawk uttered through gritted teeth.
     "I am MaTeeth-y." He spoke with authority, "Remember that."
     Kehh Hawk coughed, "How could I forget?"
     MaTeeth-y laughed dryly as he walked, with Hawk, to the East side waterway. "I hope you can swim as well as you fly young Hawk." He threw Hawk into the pool. The current began pulling him away immediately, "You've a long way to go!" His voice echoed down the tunnel as Hawk disappeared into the waterway. The current quickly picked up as the tunnel narrowed and declined. Hawk was in total darkness, struggling to stay afloat, slamming into walls of stone at every bend. He hardly felt the immense pain in his broken arm—all his focus was on not drowning—but after a bump to the side of his skull he submerged and did not resurface.
     Yet, when Hawk inhaled, air! He could not see in the darkness, and he could clearly feel he was underwater, yet it seemed as if his face was not. The vicious current had slowed as well. He was somehow simply floating. Was this death? Hawk's heartbeat gradually slowed. As it did, he realized he still had a heartbeat, so he must still be alive. He gave up on trying to understand and tried to relax, letting the water take him where it will. The pain in his arm greatly lessened and his fatigue dissipated. Then, light. He was floating upwards, until the water began moving him forward a well in rocking waves. He now noticed there was a bubble attached to hsi face, holding air there and allowing him to breathe. As he pondered the life saving bubble, his head sank against sand and he was the surface was right above him and he realized he could stand. The bubble dissappeared as he came up from the water.
     Hawk was standing on a beach, small waves gently splashing the back of his thighs. He held his broken arm with his good one and just surveyed the coast before him. People were dancing with fire just a ways away, spinning it in circles or dancing with staves or batons or hoops, all alight. There was a large crowd, half were watching them, the others starring at him. He starred back, then realized he was back at The Great Dance, though the music had ceased and most of the crowd had dispersed.
     "What are you looking at? You're missing it!" The Water Spirit was suddenly standing next to him. Had she come out of the water?
     "What am I missing? Why are they all starring at me?"
     "No one's starring at you silly" She said with a smile, "Just turn around."
     Hawk did so and was greeted by a fantastic Rising Sun over the straight ocean horizon. He and the water woman both stood in the waves, watching the glory of the sky sparkle brilliantly against the expanse of blue. Then Hawk understood.
     "You saved me didn't you?"
     "Just returning the favor, Alec."
     Hawk laughed, "That's not actually my name y'know."
     "It's not?!" She looked shocked.
     "Haha, no."
     "I really thought your name was Alec."
     "It's not a big deal. Call me whatever you want."
     Her face turned serious, "No. I want to at least remember your name. What is it?" She spoke with complete sincerity. Her intensity alarmed him. He almost did not know how to react, but knew that sincerity can only be met with sincerity.
     He took a breathe. "Hawk. It's Hawk."
     "Okay. Hawk. I'll remember." And she offered her hand, and he took it in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. The sun was fully over the coastline now. They stood together in the sea, fire to either side, existing in that moment, when the dawn becomes the day, looking into each other honestly. He let go of her hand, and then, she was gone.

     Hawk waded out of the water and walked to the crowd, cradling his broken limb. The water had somehow healed it a bit but it was definitely still broken and definitely aught not be moved. He found a towel in the sand and took a moment to make a sling for his arm. Back amongst people, he realized he could see differently now. If he focused on seeing, if he looked closely at one thing, he could feel and understand that thing in a way he never had before. Though, his sight was not nearly the same as during the dance. Then it was as if he was looking closely at everything and everyone at the same time.
     He scanned the crowd, using his sight to see truth. What appeared as a woman was, upon seeing, actually The Sunrise. What appeared as an ordinary couple was, upon seeing, a beacon and its guardian. Somewhere in the crowd, Hawk could see fire burning bright. He moved towards it and found The Fire Spirit watching the fire dancers, or perhaps, she was more watching over them.
     Hawk moved to greet her but realized, horribly, that he had forgotten her name. He stopped and thought, replaying when they met in the woods over and over again in his mind. Hearing again her song. Seeing again her face. Breathing again her smell. Nothing worked. It simply was not there. Her name was gone. With a start he remembered what else was gone as his hand flew to the top of his head reactively to feel the abscense of hat there. His broken arm, slighted from being forgotten in favor of an accessory, swung down and whacked his thigh.
     The pain brought Hawk back to the present. He winced and scooped up his arm, then looked back at the heat lady. He had been given her name, and he lost it. He approached her.
     "Good morning to you m'lady, how do you do?"
     Her face lit up when she saw him, "Howdy traveler. How was your night?"
     "How was mine? Haha, I had one hell of a night. Yeah..."
     She starred at Hawk intensely, knowing he had something more to say. Feeling it. Helping him find the words by melting his outsides away.
     "I uhm. I forgot your name."
     A moment passed.
     People around them in the crowd walked past.
     Hawk felt a small bit of heat rising in his face. A feeling not often felt since childhood for him.
     "I mean I just sort of am not sure, like I know what it's close to and would definitely remember eventually or really soon but not right now."
     She said her name again and it fell to The Earth burning like a moth whose wings had finally caught. He tried to scoop it up and put it out but blowing on it just made it burn faster and it was gone.
     Hawk was horrified. The Fire Spirit's smile had faded. Her face was simply plain. Indifferent now.
     Hawk stepped back, "I'll, uh, see ya' later..." And she began talking with someone else before he turned away. He saw a little wave from the hip as she turned to engage whoever they were.

     Hawk walked along the beach lethargically, stopping when needed to readjust his arm sling. The morning sun was still cool, though in a few short hours that sun would be beating down on him, but for now it was cloudy and mild. The Great Dance was over and there were quite a few people moving about along the sandy shore. Occasionally Hawk would hear some music echoing from the woods; after parties of people not yet ready to leave. Hawk had had enough though. He was no longer feeling celebratory or determined. After failing to remember the Fire Spirit's name, Hawk took to beating himself up for his callousness. She had helped him, calmed him. She sang him her song. How could he forget her name? It was thanks to her that he had even started to like that dumb hat. He began to feel glad he had lost it!
     No sooner did he think that then a seagull whizzed by with a gust of wind. He reflexively turned to watch it as it flew out to sea and noticed something in the water being washed up to shore. He walked down to see what it was and to his astonishment it was the hat. Hawk reflexively pick it up—he didn't feel right holding it, but the light was beginning to burn now and he knew the hat would help. Besides, the hat had been miraculously returned to him. It would be silly to not wear it now, especially when he needed it. He shook it off a bit then placed it atop his head and resumed his march, on the look out for the ship that had brought him to this island in the first place.
     The wind was picking up as Hawk made his way down the shore. He saw them both at the same time—one blip out over the water and another over the sands. The ship being the larger of the two, he saw what that was first. When the other blip came into his focus as a beautiful woman, he stopped looking at the ship. When he realized that woman was The Wind Spirit, he forgot all about the ship.
     The wind was blowing fiercely as Hawk approached her. She was standing in the sunlight looking out at the horizon. Her name was held as a breeze is close to his heart. He greeted her but the winds took his words as he spoke them. He knew they would reach her though, so he looked to the horizon as well and waited. After thirty-three waves crashed and sank away (Hawk was counting) she turned to him and smiled.
     He gave her more words, "Shall we walk down to the water?"
     She smiled and nodded immediately this time, then outstretched her hand. Hawk took it and they walked to the water together until the waves were wetting their knees.
     They talked about everything. The past and the future. Dreams and reality. What she did last night during The Great Dance. What happened to his arm. What they each wanted to give to the world and what they wanted themselves. She wanted to dance. She was choreographing movements and she wanted her dance to be masterful. He thought her dance was already masterful. She thought that there's always room to improve. He agreed. He began talking about all he had seen and had yet to see, all the places he still wanted to go, and all the things he still wanted to do. She wanted to go to some of the same places. He said maybe he would see her there. She just smiled, the breeze lifting her hair from her face.
     There were no more words then. The sun was shining high overhead and Hawk's arms were burning, but he didn't care; the hat was protecting the back of his neck at least. The waves continued passing them by, occasionally large enough to hit their hips, keeping them cool in the midday sun. Their feet were buried in the sand, gently held by The Earth under The Water. And The Wind seemed to come from every angle, as if wherever it was coming from or going, this is where it wanted to be. This is where they both wanted to be.
     They were there until the sun began its long journey downward and Hawk's arms were red a strawberries. They bgean talking up the beach when Hawk suddenly remembered,
     "The ship! I was supposed to get on that ship! Ah, I think it's gone now."
     "Don't worry. I can take you where you need to go.
     "Would you?" Hawk hadn't meant to ask.
     She laughed, "Of course. Always." She said quite reassuringly, "But first let's have a drink."
     They walked for a while until they came to a small encampment on the shore. There were not many people there. The few who were around were taking down tents and structures. There was still a tent which seemed to be supplying food. The two walked over to it and were greeted warmly by the man inside. He gave them each a drink made with banana and coconut and cinnamon and vanilla and the milk of almonds. They walked away from the camp merrily, sipping their drinks and telling stories to each other. They found shade to sit in and when each of their story was told their drinks were also finished and Hawk knew it was time to go. He looked down, and a strong gust of wind from behind him blew his hat away.
     "Oops." She said as she stood to get the hat. She returned momentarily with it atop her head, standing above Hawk with the sun behind her.
     "It looks good on you." Hawk observed.
     "I've been wanting a hat" she mused, "here." She motioned to remove it.
     "No." Hawk paused a moment. Thinking. Feeling. "You keep it."
     "What? But it's your hat! I couldn't take..."
     "It's alright. I want you to have it."
     "But.."
     "I want you to have it."
     She paused for a moment, "Alright. Thank you."
     The Wind blew again. Hawk's hair flew in his face; he made no reaction. In silent awe he watched her standing there, smiling honestly. Her hair was kept by the hat now, but a few strands fell free, bringing her hand along a gentle trip from her forehead to her nape. Her hand lingered there as the wind continued to blow and she smiled down on Hawk. The hat stayed where it was.
     "Are you ready?"
     "Yeah" he lied, but there was nothing else to say. He knew he never would be.
     "Close your eyes."
     "Don't want to." He said as he shook his head.
     The Hawk spread his wings and began flapping powerfully. One of his wings was hurt, but he knew he could still fly. He had learned many lessons these past few days, one among many bring that if we wish to fly, we must take the flight ourselves. The Hawk jumped off the sand over The Water and spread his arms wide. Had there been no gust of wind then, The Hawk would have dived straight into the water, but there was. The Wind lifted The Hawk high above the waves. Higher and higher, The Hawk soared away from The Earth. The sky is marvelously quiet. Guided by The Wind, trusting her direction above all else, The Hawk glided on through the heavens, pondering nothing and everything. Reflecting upon his needs and wants. Where he has been and where he has yet to be.

     ~End


     Poetry:
     If you made it this far, if you really read all that story above, then you deserve to read this poem.
     If you didn't read the story then no. You are not allowed to read this (Unless you are the poetry professor of that class I snuck into, 'cause THIS is poetry, professor. Of that I am sure).
     Oh, so you may be thinking, "Haha! I am alone behind my computer! I can skip your story and read your poem anyways! No one is watching me! You can't stop me muahahahaa"
     Well aren't you cheeky? It's true that no one can stop you from expressly disobeying my wishes and reading my feelings put into light data, but you'd be wrong about the no one is watching part. Someone's always watching. You can choose God, you can choose some mystical spirit of the universe, or even if you just choose yourself—someone's always watching.
     Besides, unless you read the above story, you won't get it anyway! So hah!

     Unless of course you are The Rising Sun. Then you'd get it.

     It doesn't have a title.

I fucking miss you a lot and I hate
texting but I love writing so I just
decided I'm gonna write you a damn nice
text 'cause I can't call yah right now but
you are just the most swell girl and if I
could take all my love that I have pouring
out of my heart all the time and wrap it
up as a little package in a brown paper
bag that my mom showed me how to do
and use the tape at the post office and
give them two dollars and seventeen
cents oh wait a few more that was the
price before the tape haha then I would
but I can't and your 1000 miles away
and I don't know when I'm gonna see you
again so I'm gonna write this down but
not hit send cause I CAN'T FUCKING
SAY ALL THIS IN A TEXT

But I know one place I can put it...
'Cause I know you'll see it there.