“You will have to meet Mr. Farley,” said Robert, his large brown eyes rolling dramatically up and around as though to imply Mr. Farley was Everywhere including in the cornice moulding and the plate rail that ran high up on the walls and around the dining room.. Pilot didn’t quite understand, but he nodded nevertheless.
Pilot knew, as surely as his old hard cover calendars were reliable go to items, Brain Paper books may be today’s calendar equivalents in broader application. While the entire suite was familiar to him in some detail—its documentation was, after all, a core piece of his early training—never before had said information been published in any form, for any reason, least all for sales. “Well then, here we are.” he thought.
Looking again, Pilot could see that space, still darkened, was lightening up. The purplish haze he had seen earlier was gone, replaced by a greay light.
Other, interior perspectives interested Pilot most. For instance, whether one was coming at a topic from the point of view of the Blue Hills of Understanding was considerably different than if one was being either an Emerald City Builder or an Orange Anecdote Instigator was, again, entirely different from a Golden Pyramid Architect. Anyone can do this, if one tries.
What of and whether or not people think just could not be controlled by Pilot. Therefore, into the darkness, it plunged. No more or less aware than before but certain, certain under its feet was his own path.
He could still hear that loud ticking, resounding in his auditory canals.
Scottish shortbread and lemon poppyseed pound cake.
Indeed, was there not plenty to smile about? On the eve of Christmas Eve, Pilot had frequently felt this kind of excitement and bubbling joy inside. This time however, was different. Pilot knew this year was his own ‘tipping point’ of his own transition, that long drawn-out affair of decades past when he had so often chaffed at his own progress, had transitioned to something more fun, in ’21.
I am powerful and I am strong. I am positive and I am well; I expect just deserts. I am a lightning force for good. I transmogrify murk into sunshine, swamp into hillside and despair into gladness. I hunger not for sadness, nor sickness nor despair. I train away fears bedside. I dream. I hope, Continue reading “Pilot I’m Included”