Hard as it is to recognize at times, there is a point where a man must face the road. Facing the road is all there ever is or quite frankly all there ever was. A symbol made manifest, a path hewn from stone or wood or even just as likely dust and dirt.

My road begins on a train today at 2:30, the Lone Star express heading out of Fort Worth, Texas and sending me to my first stop along the road Austin, Texas. A city I should have made my home ever so long ago (according to all feasible reasoning) and yet instead I kept my life in Dallas, a town I knew like the back of my hand.

I don’t think it’s unreasonable to believe that what I am doing is a little bit foolish, or at the least foolhardy. I am quite essentially running away from home to start my own circus. A pied piper, sans the flute, and hopefully the rats. I prefer to think about this journey as more of a leap of faith instead of a fool’s gambit. However what do I know?

It happens to be a great big world out there, with lots of sorrows and fears to face around every corner. I could die this second and never finish this piece. I could be mugged by a gang of Asian midgets with bad haircuts. I could be audited.

How shall I live, where shall I sleep, who will meet me along this journey, will I live, will I die?

Is this a great big adventure, or a trip into darkness from which there is no return?

All of these, and many more of these fears run through my head like anyone of a rational mind would experience. Then I remember to breathe. I remember why I am doing all of this, I am walking into my vision and there can be nothing more amazing as walking into your own bliss.

I stand here on the edge of reason, and step into faith. Hell, I jump into faith with the knowledge that this is not my only recourse it is my choice to step into the flow of my life and truly live.

This sort of walkabout isn’t for everyone, hell it may not even be for me, but here I stand and here I go all of the same.

I am looking forward to so many things in Austin, not least of which is reacquainting myself with one of the inaugural authors of Volume 1 in An Honest Lie, William Terry, but also with new friends, amazing authors and artists I’ve yet to meet, and food cart delights that tickle the senses.

Its 10 am, Sunday April 10th 2011 and its time to finish packing and get ready to take my second step in this amazing adventure.
Watch out Austin, here I come.

Amtrack Station Fort Worth, Texas

Pulling into the station

Hello Austin

(There is nothing special about Simon pt2)

Simon though gifted, has the simple failings of most of us. He lacks faith in himself and in his own abilities. He can do amazing things, but instead of being in awe of his gifts his modesty overwhelms him and turns that amazingly magical boy…into a regular Joe.

Science wants to explain away all of the beauty and mystery in the world and worlds of faith want to rob us of individual experiences as well. As creatures that want explanations, we bind ourselves to whichever propaganda is popular within our immediate tribe and suffer the greatest flaw of being human, the unwillingness to admit when our ideals are ever wrong.

In the end we see Simon, who can do an amazing things hide his ability due to fear.

From the day Simon was born he was told he was special, as he watched the world around him he learned that special wasn’t appreciated.

When I asked him about his gift with excitement, he became afraid.

For whatever reason it may be, primal or otherwise, Fear changes us. In essence it forms us.

Sadly it had already started to form Simon.

Simon was special after all, and bad things happen to special people.

So in the end Simon is average, to protect himself.

So to continue with the story…

“Simon, its okay to sing to the squirrels,” I say when I look into his eyes.” I used to do that myself”

Zoey and Simon looked at me quizzically for a moment, and then Zoey noticed an earthworm and her attention was drawn away yet again.

“Really?”

“I’ll bring the pictures out with me on my walk tomorrow”

Simon smiled, a few tears leaked out but we didn’t pay them any mind (I followed his lead on that one).

“You used to sing to the squirrels? What happened?”

“Well Simon, somewhere along the way, I forgot how.”

“Oh, that’s sad….very sad.”

Simon then stooped down to pet Zoey, and asked me rather meekly.

“You aren’t going to tell anybody, are you?”

“Now Simon, you know I am. A writer’s got to have a story and this is as good as any”

Simon laughed rather nervously and loud…

“Yes Simon, I’m writing about it”

He got rather silent, and I watched the fear creep over him again.

“It’s ok Simon; I’m just going to tell them what a normal average boy you really are.”

He relaxed and then let me know that was ok.

“Heck, I resurrected a few crickets in my time too”

Astonishment lit up his face.

“You did what?”

“I resurrected Crickets. It was a crazy game I played as a child. ”

“Amazing,” Spoke Simon “Can you still do that trick?”

“Oh I imagine I could, if I could get a cricket.”

Zoey decided we had been standing here to long and proceeded to drag me up the street and so I said goodbye to Simon and made a mental note to grab the photos out of my “Made in Mesquite” photo album. I knew I’d forget it honestly, but Simon already knew he’d have to remind me at least two more times before I remembered to bring them out with me anyways.