SPIRITUAL MATURITY CHRONICLES
(1961 – 2009)

I know that my own spiritual maturity all started with a poem that I had written “Myself” during the second half of my freshman year at the University of Florida.  At the time that I wrote this poem, which flowed so easily and naturally, I thought it a bit egotistical.  It wasn't until later when my mother had returned all my poems that she has saved and only returned them in my early 40s, that I realized just how prophetic my poems actually were and most particularly this very poem:

                      MYSELF

The times have been when needs were great,
   But now there's been a change of late.

     Before and now my God's been first,
        But now I haven't that saintly curse.

          My life so far has sought ideal,
             But now I've found a fertile field;

March 20, 1961                      Myself

My spiritual maturity has permeated the entirety of my spirit and soul, and most particularly in any of my personal expressions of love.  The following was honestly written to some man that I had met on a dating website:

“The following was written in the wee hours because I could not sleep following our last exchange of words on the telephone.  I’m not sure if any of this will have any meaning to you.  It expresses my feelings about any relationship and particularly anything that might ever be between us.  Your heart was speaking when you expressed, “I love your voice.”  I was taken a bit back when you uttered, “I was waiting for that!” which was an expression from/of your rational mind.  The difference between the two of us is that you are possibly still struggling between the dictates of the mind verses the expression of feelings from the heart.  There is nothing wrong with where you are!  You even related that you once wanted to maintain “an open-mind” when your first entered/met your last lover.  I try and keep “an open heart” to the possibilities of loving another unconditionally, “so long as they meet my basic conditions.” J  I simply need a heart-to-heart connection that is not interfered with by the over-rationale of the mind.  It takes a leap of faith or trust in the expressions of the heart to achieve a loving relationship.  All the words in the world and all the time devoted to understanding each other through the ideas and thoughts of the mind will only more likely miss the mark of “loving with all your heart, with all your soul and with your mind.”  I wish that we could be….  I regret that we are in two different time frames each appropriate unto ourselves.  All the time will have no ultimate effect on how we are apt to respond upon first encountering one another.  The reality is that I am an old man in body and not at all as attractive as you, and I fear that you, like so many others, will not be able to look past that physical encounter.  It’s all good in theory and certainly easier for me to love you than for you to love me.  That is the reality/daemons that I face and I’m not sure I want to encounter another failure of one that I have come to care for in such short order; a reference of time that is more comfortable and akin to my own experiences and possibly a bit foreign to you.  I really don’t know what to say except that you might find some meaning in the following?

Meet Joe and Lamah:

            Let me introduce myself, my name is Joe and I am the mind behind this voice.  Lamah is the heart and would rather express himself in feelings rather than in words.  I have remained the voice of J. Lamah Walker for the better part of his life.  It was about four years ago, when J. Lamah Walker elected to use the name, Lamah instead of Joe.  This change represented a period of time, in J. Lamah Walker’s life when the heart took command over the mind as a testament to his understanding that love should be the driving force behind any decent human being.  I have continued to speak for both the heart and the mind as words and ideas are my domain, but of late, I speak more for and from the heart and its compassion for a free and liberated world that is far more compelling.  I have been in many respects not only the voice of Lamah's heart, but too often its sole defender.  I have grown with Lamah and have come to respect his passion as a force to be reckoned with.  I have also witnessed the toll suffered by Lamah at the hands of those who are still ruled more by their minds and likely devoid of love, which is the domain of the heart.  Lamah has articulated his dire state of exhaustion, a fatigue so great that he has often expressed his longing to sleep eternally; forever dancing with sunsets.  I have repeatedly expressed the most exalted reasons for him to remain amongst the living.  His feelings of despair are rooted in his inability to find love, particularly a love that represents his lofty ideals that every man and woman should be heir to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.  The heart is a place for feelings, and not the rationale of the mind; an expression of emotions that are not constrained by any concept of time.  As great as my intellect may be, Lamah has always been ruled more by the heart and has demanded that the voice represents the contentions that love expressed in the confines of the truth is the only source of salvation.  Since love has no limits, it is never the slave of time; a concept that Lamah has had from his youth even though the understanding of which may have come much later in his life.  Note the date of this poem:

        MOMENTS

A moment comes, a moment goes,

It has no place and has no time,

It comes and goes like wind that blows.

    It passes no time, it passes no place,

    And never passes the next in line,

    It's on the move as though at race.

        Moments past are forever lost,

        While moments now are what we have,

        And no future's gained at any cost.

            So live and love, and do it now,

            For now is all we have at hand.

            The time we share will never stop,

            And moments come like seeping sand.

                              March 3, 1961

            It was about the same time, when J. lamah Walker decided to be known by the name of Lamah, that Lamah expressed his idea of what a loving relationship should be between two individuals that seek to be or claim they are in love:

      A  LOVING  UNION

From this day forward, and

So long as our Love survives,

I will remain by your side.

   I will offer you joy and laughter

   That brings tears to your eyes

   From the very depths of your soul.

      I will gladly keep and comfort you,

      And provide for you, loving support

      At the times of your greatest needs.

         I will strive to grow with you,

         And encourage your unspoken dreams,

         And lovingly nurture the person you are.

            At times I will know to remain silent,

            And respect your need for aloneness

            When you require that inner peace.

               I will take time to pause with you

               And share the fruits of our love

               In our own most private Garden of Eden.

                  But most of all the gifts I bring

                  To this holy union of our souls,

                  I will share with you, all that I am.

                                                                   April 2, 1999

            Because Lamah has failed to materialize a loving relationship as expressed in the above poem, with another man, who is equally ruled more by his heart than his mind, he has periodically experienced bouts of depressions.  It was during one of these sadden periods of his life that Lamah expressed his feelings of utter despair in a poem.  The poem came from the heart and relates his desire to depart this world where he has failed to find the kind of love that sustains the passion for living.  At the same time, Lamah has held on to the hope that such a love is possible and knows that it is more likely achieved in a free and open atmosphere where there is total acceptance of a lifestyle that heretofore has been forbidden by sanctions of a corrupted church.  The feelings that are expressed in this poem are expressions of the despair that comes in the absence of a simple abiding love that could and should be freely expressed between any two individuals seeking a loving commitment.

Dancing With Sunsets

When all the words were said and done,

And the heart's song had been sung,

Spirit and soul was heaven bound,

Determined by another sound;

Gone forever, to be never found.

A half's night sleep and not one dream,

A morning's wake with no sunbeam,

Night before unfilled expectation

Of pregnant hope and fond elation,

Now, stillness lay; a fear's summation.

Wishing for those who stay behind;

That one's love be an easy find,

Each life be filled with ecstasy,

With mind and body's liberty,

Happiness found, and serenity.

There is indeed a saving light.

Be ever bound to not loose sight,

In midst of storm, depressing horror

Always treasure one's good neighbor.

For love alone provides safe harbor.

Farewell this life my soul depart,

Behind I leave a lonely heart.

Friends release and then freely lets;

The soul at peace with no regrets,

To be forever dancing with sunsets.

                                      June 12, 1999

The primary motivation for my wanting to work as the first openly gay therapist at Student Heath Services at the University of New Mexico; was to be doing my best to insure that disenfranchised gays had unbiased mental health services available.  The healing of the spirit/psyche has always been as important to me as the good health of one’s body.  It is often postulated that the majority of physical illnesses are due in large part to our own mental health.  There are those who claim that as much as 90 percent of all physical illnesses are often psychosomatic in origin.  My mother often said that her own gift of healing was more a tribute to her ability to inspire the recipient to have enough faith to discover their own healing than any miraculous healing magic on her part.   

I am repeating the following because it marks the true beginning of San Damiano which led me to this Age of Reality in which I would hope that everyone might have the same kinds of instantaneous revelations.  If I were not ready to have developed this San Damiano then it would have been an indication that I was not ready for the spiritual maturity that I have subsequently grown to fully appreciate.  I most certainly would not be claiming to be the Father of the Age of Reality:

It was sometime around the end of 1983, and while I was still working at UNM, that I had a phone call from a friend of mine living on the east side of the Sandia Mountains.  Ken Stegemiller was looking at some vacant land in a subdivision just south of where he was presently living.  He wanted me to take a look at this prospective piece of property and give him my professional opinion as a licensed contractor as to whether I thought it might be a desirable location for the construction of a new subdivision.  On the very next Monday I went to the real estate office of Dick Holben, the realtor who was overseeing the development and sales of this new subdivision known as Sierra Vista South.  I guess my voice must have carried a bit when I was talking with Dick, because there came the voice of a woman inquiring, “Is that the voice of Joe Walker I hear?  This is Liz McGuire, do you remember me?”  Liz had dated and married one of my ATΩ fraternity brothers, Don McGuire, from the University of New Mexico.  It never ceases to amaze me just how small this world is.  Even more interesting is the fact that Don and Liz McGuire eventually bought one of the lots in this same subdivision and became one of my neighbors just down Boulder Lane.

While inquiring of Dick Holben as to the availability of a plat, I specifically asked whether there were any lots available in the range of five acres, and he said that there was one that was 4.6 acres.  I decided that 4.6 was close enough to five acres and had Dick point it our on the plat.  I left his office on Route 14, better know as the Turquoise Trail, located not too far from the targeted subdivision.  I was able to reach the subdivision by driving eastwardly up a rather steep and winding road named Sangre de Cristo, where I first proceeded to survey the lot that Ken had inquired about.  It only required the most minimal amount of time before I quickly decided that it was quite acceptable for meeting his personal requirements.  I was sure that at the top of his list of principal concerns was the existing rough terrain, as this geography can be rather severe in places, being in the immediate foothills of the Sandia Mountains.  The vegetation was principally that of alligator juniper, piñon, and scrub oak, along with a variety of wildflowers, cactus and indigenous herbs.

With some anticipation and excitement I immediately visited that larger lot suggested to me by Dick.  As soon as I walked on the property, I experienced the most unexpected and spine-chilling feeling that I was walking on spiritually consecrated ground, and I almost immediately and intuitively proclaimed that this bit of rough and rocky terrain as “a place of healing.”  I drawn to and proceeded to the very rear of the property, and there discovered a majestic view that rather took me by surprise, since this lot was notably situated not only at the end of the subdivision, but most conspicuously at its lowest elevation.  I suspect that this most exceptional and totally unexpectedly good location had been unintentionally overlooked simply because it wasn’t amongst those “top-of-the-pile” lots that usually occupied the higher elevations in most any mountainous subdivision--lined along a dramatic ridge of brightly-colored and lichen-incrusted rocks with a spectacular view of the most southern portion of the Sandia Mountains.  Also visible from many of these lots is Tijeras Canyon at a lower elevation, wherein Interstate 40 runs east and west.  This beautiful and rather dramatic canyon serves to divide the Sandia Mountains from the Manzano Mountains that lie just to the south and could also be seen from the rear of the property I was surveying.

As I continued exploring to the very end of this unusual piece of property as I could best estimate it from viewing the plat, I came upon a most intriguing rock formation. It was essentially flat on top and partially exposed on its westerly side.  It was situated just about 10 feet back from the edge of that dramatic rocky-cliff formation, and it had an old piñon tree growing out of the rocks between it and the edge of the cliff.  The positioning of the old piñon tree would have easily shaded this interesting rock from the hot, western setting sun.  This rock formation was larger than a standard-sized card table and had a distinctive indentation close to its upper center, where I could easily ascertain that water had obviously collected and remained during infrequent periods of precipitation.  The instantaneous feeling that came over me upon discovering this rather awe-inspiring site was that this rock had probably been sat upon, most imaginably by a Native American, as a place where deep contemplation had been repeatedly experienced.  I readily and without any cognitive thought or hesitation designated this rather unique site as “Meditation Rock.”  The initial discovery of this rock was one of those unique experiences that began to signal my inner psyche that this particular piece of property was indeed destined to become part of my future.

Returning from this lower and psychically powerful portion of the land, I had the strangest thought come to mind: “even though I may never own this place, I will certainly become its consummate and faithful caretaker.”  The word “caretaker” had a certain ominous feeling of burden and in some small respect diminished some of those initial feeling of such psychic elation.  But the whole experience was definitely mystical, and I pretty much decided right then and there that I was going to be living on this sacred ground, probably for the rest of my life.  Just to confirm the unusual and unexpected veracity of these unanticipated yet very certainly inspirational feelings, I immediately called my niece, Julie Good, who had moved to Albuquerque to attend the University of New Mexico.  The very next day I brought Julie out to Cedar Crest to inspect the property and, as was probably expected, she warmly confirmed my unusual feelings about the spiritual and healing nature of this most wonderful piece of land. 

That Tuesday evening I called Dick Holben to inquire the price of the land, and upon hearing its already modest cost, further inquired as to whether the developers would possibly entertain an offer.  Dick was professionally adamant in his opinion that the prices set on the various lots were considered rather firm.  The very next day I presented Dick with an offer, despite his cautions, that was some $5,000 less than the “firm” original asking price, and got his added firm reassurance that the developers would not be likely to accept any offers below those already established.  I instructed Dick to make the offer in any case. I was intuitively confidant that if this land was truly to be part of my future, that they wouldn’t hesitate to accept the offer.  The very next morning Dick gave me a call and, with a surprisingly astonished tone, informed me that the developers had indeed accepted my initial offer and did so without any counter-offer or the usual wavering.  Just ask me if I was at all surprised at this speedy acceptance?  We closed on the property that very Friday, and the die was then duly cast as to the yet unforeseen future of this enchanting place that was to become my most beloved and cherished San Damiano.

For just short of two years following the impromptu purchase of the sacred ground, I regularly meditated on what I had come to call Meditation Rock, planted some fruit trees and a rather large number of tulip bulbs, and waited patiently for this magical land to speak to my inner consciousness and instruct me as to its particular needs.  I knew that when the time was right I would be inspired as to what kind of structure this land would dictate and support. 

During the end of my short tenure with the University of New Mexico I had a week’s vacation, which I had planned on using to visit with a good friend of mine that had recently moved to Colorado Springs.  His name was Farron Hurst, and we had first met at the University of Oklahoma when we were both enrolled as doctoral students.  I had taken a pad of paper with me to scratch on, should I have any ideas pop into my head about the future of San Damiano.  It was upon retiring the second night of my visit that I instantaneously set up in bed and within seconds roughed out a sketch of the basic structural design for the residence that now exists on this sacred land.  I got up the very next morning and cheerfully announced to Farron and his partner that I was immediately returning home to Albuquerque to ascertain if this bit of inspirational and instantaneous design for a structure was going to actually fit, and just where it would be aptly situated on the bit of land that I had been patiently meditating on for so many months.  I left Colorado Springs first thing that morning, drove straight to Cedar Crest, and walked off my initially proposed measurements.  It was almost as I had envisioned it with one minor exception; the proposed side entrance to the garages was an obvious structural impossibility since there was an estimated 23-foot drop.   But the remainder of the projected structure and basic internal designed remained entirely intact, just as it had been so instantaneously designed in those few brief seconds of pure inspiration.

Within just a few months I had managed to locate a qualified draftsperson, Laura Sanchez of Las Lunas, New Mexico, to actually draw the working plans.    This kind and appropriately sensitive lady was very excited about the unusual project, and within just a few weeks I had the working drawings completed and was beginning to get rather excited about initiating construction.  At just about this time I voluntarily but unwontedly departed my psychotherapy position with the University, mostly due to some of those usual political matters that seemed far less important at that particular time than the exhilarating prospect of actually creating my beloved San Damiano.  With my time-consuming job clearly out of the picture, I focused my full attentions on the exciting future of San Damiano.  The permit for the construction of the residence was for a total of some 7,200 square feet of roofed construction.  This sounded like an enormously extensive project that was probably far beyond my financial ability at the time, but I was quite confident that there was some good reason that the universe had handed me this large and unforeseen project.

It was on February 20, 1985 that I finally obtained the County of Bernalillo building permit for this monumental project that I was about to undertake.  If someone had taken the time to seriously question me on just how I thought that I was going to be able to afford such an undertaking, I’m confident I would have simply said something to the effect of, “This project is simply meant to be!”  I have always maintained this rather adamant sentiment that if plans are thoughtfully laid out with the specific input and intentions of that invisible universe, the execution to fruition is an immutable given.  My mother always proclaimed in the context of her own brand of fundamental Christian upbringing, “The Lord will provide.”  I would possibly add to my mother’s often-stated contention that “the Lord will more likely help those who display the ability to help themselves.”  I had usually achieved anything that I had set my mind to, and even though I didn’t have all of the apparent financial means readily available for such an extensive undertaking, nor the desire or justification to possibly acquire the necessary financing, I was still confident that I could easily employ my own labor and skills to make up any of those unforeseen minor deficits.  Of course, there was nothing “minor” about any portion of this undertaking, especially since my name wasn’t likened to that of a Vanderbilt or Rockefeller.

There was hardly any stage of this project that wasn’t accompanied by some significant degree of totally unsolicited abatements, and this often repeated as well as indispensable phenomena manifested itself from the very beginning, starting with that considerably lower than original asking price for the land itself.  In contrast to its frugal beginnings, San Damiano today enjoys that grand opulent appearance along with all those necessary amenities that would aptly qualify it as one of those featured homes in a design magazine like Architectural Digest, except that the home wasn’t actually designed by an excessively expensive AIA-registered architect. The design is entirely unique unto itself.   Even the physical placement of the residence on the property reflects a recognized Frank Lloyd Wright credo of creating a pleasing and complimentary interplay between the home’s natural environment and the actual structure itself.  For a lack of any specifically recognized scheme to the overall design, I usually retort with the word “eclectic” when friends query as to its architectural theme. 

San Damiano also reflects my own spiritual and personal nature of trust and openness to all peoples and ideas.  Most noticeable of the residence’s inner design features is that there are intentionally no doors that would in any way interfere with the free flow of human activity except where absolutely necessary, for example the dark-room and the sauna.  Most storage areas likewise have the necessary closures simply to hide the usual clutter, as these rooms are not designed for any human habitation!  I had intentionally added a door to the one toilet-enclosure in the guest powder room for those rightfully sensitive day-guests, mostly women that just aren’t disposed to sharing my own liberal degree of openness.  And when asked about privacy, I consistently suggest and kindly offer to my various visitors the repartee that, “privacy, after all is said and done, is really just a matter of respect.”  On the more personal/romantic level, I further suggest that, “I will never lock you out nor ever hope to lock you in.  You are entirely free to come and go as you will.”  I point out to visitors that the intentional architectural design of entries and hallways to those traditionally private areas more than adequately provide sufficient privacy without traditional placements of more securable physical barriers—doors being perhaps the most noticeable implement of choice.

          It was just about midsummer, when the footings and foundations of the San Damiano residence were nearing their completion, that I was enthusiastically introduced to a gentleman, Terry Brown.  Very close life-long friends of mine, Richard and Anne Whiteside, made the initial introduction.  Richard was another New Mexico ATΩ fraternity brother and Anne had been one of those more caring female friends who had always wanted to be the one to introduce me to that special woman before I had eventually come out of that notorious gay closet.  Terry Brown had previously served in the U.S. Navy with Richard and had only recently moved to the Albuquerque area from Washington, D.C., where he had been serving as a detective with the Washington D.C. Police Department.  One of Terry’s foremost attractions to this Land of Enchantment was his total intrigue with and popular romantic ideation of the Native Americans in this particular region of the United States, and that intriguing spiritual milieu for which New Mexico is so well known.  We became romantically involved almost immediately after being introduced by the Whitesides, and Terry actually pitched in and helped with the construction of the house with the exception of a few short trips back to the D.C. area.  Terry was also most helpful in a financial sense, in that he had arrived in New Mexico with a bit of a state derived from the sale of his residence in Washington.  He was more than generous with his monies, for which I maintained good records with the full intention of eventually repaying any and all of his investments.

Almost as soon as the residence was finished it became a popular meeting place for all sorts of activities, principally those activities that were aimed at the new disease that first most affected the gay community.  This was a natural thing to occur, since I had considered this sacred land as “a place of healing.”  Besides providing all sorts of physical support for the gay community, I naturally saw it as a center for spiritual healing and enhancement.  It was this spiritual perception of San Damiano that gave rise to one of the more persistent and annoying conflicts that Terry and I had experienced.  Terry had desperately wanted to employ the residence for some of his own interpretation of Native Indian ceremonies.  Terry had gotten himself involved with the local and popular Native culture and had even gone so far as to purchase his own medicine bag from a local crystal shop.  He tried to get me involved with this Native American passion of his, and my response was consistently, “this is not your thing. You should practice your own white man's medicine.  You’re not one of these natives!”  I had felt as though Terry was very possibly intruding on sacred practices of these Native Indians that a “white man” had no right to trespass. 

It was at just about this time that this deadly disease, Acquired ImmunoDeficiency Syndrome (AIDS), was finally identified as being caused by the virus “HIV,” an appropriate acronym for Human Immunodeficiency Virus.  An activist group of concerned professionals obtained an educational grant from the Federal government to present a comprehensive seminar throughout the country about AIDS, and it was initially proposed to make this distinctive and timely presentation in 12 different cities from coast to coast.  Naturally the larger cities that had immense populations of infected gays were targeted first, and for some undisclosed and certainly welcomed reason our own modest southwest community also got incorporated into this limited group of proposed sites.

Our own weekend presentation of this HIV/AIDS program took place in one of Albuquerque’s newer hotels and meeting centers called the “Pyramid,” just north of town on I-25 in the direction of Santa Fe.  The program covered almost every known aspect of this disease, and one of the most unusual and certainly popular of the various offerings was a presentation by a Native American Medicine Man.  I remember everyone who could possibly attend this particular session crammed themselves into the small meeting room.  I would guess that there were possibly 120 individuals in a room that was supposed to only comfortably hold 100.  The Land of Enchantment gets so much of its aura of spirituality and mystique from the rather large representation of indigenous populations of Native Americans, particularly the Pueblo Indians with their fascinating seasonal ceremonies.  This Native Medicine Man proceeded to explain how mankind has methodologically mistreated and abused our lovely Mother Earth, and has, by seriously over-taxing its natural resources, caused a grave imbalance in nature; when this occurs to such an extreme, it naturally incurs dire consequences for all.  He felt that this raging epidemic of AIDS was just one of the many tragic symptoms of our unwarranted exploitation of the environment, which at that time for no apparent reason only affected a particular portion of the human inhabitants of this earth:  Africans in general and gay men in much of the rest of the world.  His suggested and articulated answer to this ominous problem was a much-needed return to a more balanced and humane treatment of not only the physical and ecological earth itself but also of its varied inhabitants; equal respect for nature as well as the varied human inhabitants is considered most essential for universal balance.   At the conclusion of his presentation, this warm and loving Medicine Man explained that he had come prepared to perform a special ceremony for which he required a willing volunteer from the audience.

Of the some 120 attendees in the room, there must have been at least a 140 anxious hands raised, indicating everyone’s eagerness to participate.  At the very instant of his announcement of needing a volunteer, I already had an intuitive sense that I was going to be the willing victim, and he's without any ado or even the slightest hesitation I was immediately selected from where I was seated for rolls back. 

I was asked to take a seat with my back to the rest of the audience, and this Medicine Man explained to those present that before he could continue with the formal procedure, the appointed initiate was to have some pertinent instructions.  He expressed that these special “instructions” came from “the Bear,” and the very essence of these directives was to, “Always practice your own medicine.”  I remember being rather pleasantly astonished with a feeling of déjà vu; first that it was the Bear that had been invoked to postulate these pertinent instructions, and that the Bear’s very specific instructions were so precisely analogous to what I had always preached to Terry Brown concerning his fascination and obsession with Native American traditions and wanting to “practice” their sacred rituals.  I was instantly drawn into the whole quintessence of what was about to take place, and intuitively knew with absolute confidence that this very special event that was about to transpire had been a preordained happening just waiting for that appointed time and place to occur.

After those meaningful instructions from the Bear, the Medicine Man went over to the side of the room to retrieve something, and when he returned I recognized that he had in his possession an animal-skin Medicine Bag.  He proceeded to explain that he was about to perform “an initiation” of a Medicine Man, which I had always been led to believe was a ceremony reserved for Native American eyes only.  Since I was that elected candidate and certainly the predestined initiate, I assumed that what was going to be taking place would have some special meaning known only to me.  I have no doubt that this very spiritual man came to this conference knowing that an appropriate individual would be in that audience.  I had once refused Terry’s more than kind offer to buy me my own Medicine Bag, and now I was to actually receive one in the only truly justifiable manner.  Coming from an authentic and practicing Medicine Man, I had absolutely no further objections to receiving one; it was as though I had had a subliminal expectation that this extraordinary and singular event was going to eventually happen.  For me it was more of a confirmation than an initiation. 

The ceremony was essentially the meticulous placement into this Medicine Bag of the essential elements that were necessary for an initiated Medicine Man to be empowered to perform his healing arts.  Amongst the elements there was a bit of stone that represented the earth’s basic mineral elements, a feather that represented the air and potential loftiness of the human spirit, a small bit of tied grass that represented plant life that supports our own existence, a piece of shell that signified the water from which it had originated, a piece of crystal that vicariously represented the spiritual/metaphysical nature of man and the universe, a piece of turquoise that symbolizes the richness of life, and I later added a gold band to represent the “fifth element” of eternal love.  I may have altered slightly the exact explanation that this lovely Medicine Man had initially imparted, but all of these aforementioned items still remain in the bag to this date and have come to mean to me what I have just shared with you.  After all, it’s now my medicine, and we are all empowered by those very things that we have come to know as the truth and true essential nature of our inner being.

          There are simply too many meaningful events in my life that naturally occurred without any efforts on my part.  I more than confident that even the remainder my life on this earth will manifest even more miraculous events all speaking to this Age of Reality and the parts I shall play as the Father of the Age of Reality.  This very event in time to mankind's spiritual development would have had to of had a man such as myself to pave the way for others who will most naturally follow.  I fully understand that my own life might be shortened by the completion of these works as I am very tired of the struggle to do good for others.  I hope that I should be able to finish my final contribution, Nicaea: Hell on Earth before any departure from this life.