178-Dharma Talk

(Pete with her Good Friend Dharma)

The Lord is with me and I am with Him. That is His promise in the Bhagavad Gita: “He who perceives Me everywhere and beholds everything in Me never loses sight of Me, nor do I ever lose sight of him.” Paramahansa Yogananda 

You are not alone, isolated or without companionship in your darkest hours. When the night closes in around you and the world, your life, your work, your boss, your existence is in disharmony. Remember that your father is always with you. He may be in the company of a friend or a companion, a co worker, the barista, the attendant. He is always in the ether near you. All you have to do is open your heart and your mind to receive him. It is so easy in a world today, full of Maya to dismiss his presence and essence and to fall into despair. Resist the temptation to be a Western Setting Sun Person. You must ascribe to being an Eastern Rising Sun Warrior. Take back your life and your control! Do not be in the whim and wind of a deluded society out of touch with the true essence of being. To be a Warrior you must summon courage, conviction and fortitude. Where will I find these things you ask? Like Dorothy in the Wizard Of Oz, it is already within you. Your father bestowed your grace upon you as child of this world. When you were young you looked to the Heavens and the Stars and dreamed of the Great Deeds and Heroic Exploits you would perform. Where have your dreams and aspirations gone? Gone with the struggles of Daily Living! Do not be a Person of short vision. One again rise up and cultivate your Greatness. It has never left you. What has left you is your belief in yourself to accomplish the goals you set out to achieve. Meditate, read Great Works of Literature. Find a way to go the extra mile! A Great Quote from My Guru Parmahansa Yogananda, (Be A Smile Millionaire.) Joy is infectious!

Question Of Balance- The Moody Blues

177-For The Middle East Conflict

 Upon the Ocean’s Breezes

 

 Listen!

 The ocean breezes are beckoning across the Isle Ellis.

They are calling extraordinary artisans accustomed to nature listening.

Apres’ her lady’s commissioning to let our collective lights shine

brighter than the torch lit for Liberty,

let our collective voices be raised

for all of Humanity,

crying from the ocean’s depths of Peasantries,

combating the silence of indifference,

armed with swords of insignificance,

to stem the rising tides of American Armageddons.

Turning back the raging seas

of Radical Extremism’s blasphemies

spewing from the cauldrons

tended by the World’s Aristocracies,

beckoning across the sea of mediocrity.

 

 

 

                              From the Belly of the Beast

Once,

I stood strong and tall

atop America’s highest mountain peak.

Turning I faced Mecca toward the East,

to my eyes came this vision of a holocaust

that brought me to my knees.

Touching the very depths of my soul.

I saw the American Armada’s storming the seven seas.

Hear my voice ring, for truth and freedom for the children!

To every nation’s mountain peaks,

 from the depths of the belly of the beast!

176-Exploring The Art Of Collaboration

My collaboration began when I was attending writing classes  with the Poet and writer Lyn Lifshin at Union College in Schenectady, New York in the early 1980’s. To keep living expenses down I rented an apartment in Niskayuna, New York from my musician friend. We would often sit on the porch evenings and he would play music and I would write poetry. (Although I learned to endure the late evening renditions of Peter Gabriel's, Red Rain to all hours. ) It was only natural that we began collaborating together, not only did we collaborate on songs, but we have been fortunate enough to finish a book of short stories and a novel. Our short story The Lure of the Mountain King was awarded an honorable mention in the 57^th Writer’s Digest Contest in the General Fiction Category. We have over the years drifted apart but I have lately dusted off our early collaborations and began submitting the work. Hope you enjoy the completed Ballad. (Check Out My Stories and The Lure Of The Mountain King Novel.)

 

 Gordon Grey Music

Joseph Elijo

 

 

The Ballad Of Tom Dillon

A blinding blizzard beckons me
in to Steamboat Springs.
I arrive on the last greyhound from Vail.
My pockets full of snowflakes
a lonesome geyser’s Steamboat whistle wails
always hiding, never tears to a cowboy’s eye.
Lord don’t let me be forsaken
the Baron’s have already taken
America by rail.

My darling I grow weary
often lost without a home
but you know I’ll keep on searchin
these mountain trails alone.
I wander through green valleys
across the prairies
past the village’s
farms and fields
out beyond the concrete illusions
where the Rocky Mountains pierce
the aqua skies.

I find solace in the seclusion
of another winter’s season
another mountain to ski
as long as he will lay
fresh powder down for me.

While you seek your fortune
or search the world for fame
be careful what you wish for
because when darkness falls upon you
you’ll be wailing out his name.

Ski through barren aspens
see the forests through the pines
sitting on my golden perch
am I crying out in vain?

Sometimes you awake to find
you get what you need
other times you take what you can get
it is from the children 
they take everything.

Now I found that I possess this light
from these mountains that I bring.
My gift is in my words
and for the children
I’ll let them ring.

Go and tell everyone,
silence is a snowflake falling
until they hear me calling
to all the children I will sing.
Never take the last of anything.

These days I’m a city
pretty girl painted
street wizard inside my poems.
My freedom
most men will never know
never having been wary
of wooden box stables
fabled to contain rainbows.
Someday, when their hair turns grey
their youth will have faded away
with the colors that lost their shine.

The all American Gazebo Band

plays behind the new red white and corporate blue
flag that flies against the changing hues.
Another rock opera story
of old glory, and a town without its name.
Somewhere in time, the poet’s rhyme
makes a cosmic connection.
Then the Seer Sayers arrive on Stages
and History endures the ages.

As a simple man who dreams
beyond the Apple Tree Lane
he sees a sunrise within her eyes.
Then the hobo dude
plays Howard Hughes
attempting to fill Dylan’s shoes
to find out why they came.
But in disgrace, he falls from grace
to understand success
is not what they claim.

Listen Children

to a Thorn Bird shrilly singing

this truth you’ve heard
from a poet and his strings.

 

The name of Steamboat Springs is thought to have originated around the early 1800s when French trappers thought they heard the chugging sound of a steamboat’s steam engine. The sound turned out to be a natural mineral spring, to be named the Steamboat Spring.

In 1909, the railroad arrived, which sparked a boom for the commercial industry in Steamboat Springs. Ranching was the primary industry of the valley and the cattle ranchers turned the new railroad depot into one of the largest cattle shipping centers of the West. Consequently, the construction of the railroad silenced the Steamboat Spring’s chugging noise forever.

City of Steamboat Springs Website

 

 

 

Trading Trinkets, Tall Tales, Telling Lies

 

Downtown any town’s Main street

this town, down

passed a shellacked shiny brass handled

carved crescent moon wooden door of

“The Ancient Mariner”

across the street from an old fashioned Bijou

sequenced white bulb Marquee

Flashing, “Fiddler on the Roof.”

 

Butted by a brand new brown concrete, steel, Lake Placid Hilton

descending down two flights

of green canopied wooden stairs.

 

“The Artist’s Café”

lapped white waves of Mirror Lake

reflecting the lights of “The Cottage”

and the excitement of the 1980 Winter Olympics

across from the Lake Placid Club

its walls filled with the owner’s original art

bustling buxom waitresses.

 

Comrade Ivan leaping to his feet

touching my pins from Solitude and Brighton

would I care to trade for his shiny Soviet bears

slapping him on the back saying,

“certainly mine were worth a bit more, perhaps

one, possibly two martini’s.”

 

Telling tales till they became martooni’s

 

The bustling waitress asking,

“Was I, could I be, an Olympic Athlete?”

Me smiling devilishly saying,

“Why, yes,

would she,

care to come to my room.

to view my gold medals from Europe.

 

 

                                             To Winter My Revenge

 

I had once

so long ago it seems

enjoyed the cool aroma

tasted the nectar sweet

of personal destiny achieved

 

These Words!

 

So at last I come to understand

after all these travels

all these achievements

that most men only dream…

 

I’ve been wasting the years

trying to go back

rolling the bitter ugly taste

over and over

my tired palette

 

“Reliving is not Life”

 

I am… To tell this tale

… to pound one nail

… to Winter My Revenge. 

Red Rain, Peter Gabriel

174- Uncle Albert's Mountain-The Beginning (Never Is A Long Time))

   Formatting Needed-  

 The skier silently slices his way through the deep soft powder, cutting across the top of Arapahoe Basin's summit. He tucks into a ball and rushes headlong down the mountain. Gathering more speed as the steepness increases and prepares him for the transition as he reaches the steep upgrade that leads along the massive headwall and up to the entrance to Lover’s Leap and the Palavachini. Gathering speed he crosses the Pali and begins his decent down the front-side of the mountain. He is deep into the trees and there is deafening silence except for the whooshing of the snow and occasional clacking of his skis. The bright orange Avalanche Danger signs and ropes closing off the trail become visible and he slides to a halt alongside them. Checking back over his shoulder for a patrolman he reaches down, lifts the rope and slips under.

 

Tom Dillion looks down the trail and sees the skier cut the out of bounds markers. He quickly sets his sights down the trail and lets his skis run downhill and gathers momentum as he rushes headlong toward the figure.

“Hey! Hey! That trail is closed! What the hell do you think you’re up to?” Tom slides to a halt, his skis sliding against the pile of snow gathering against the edges. “You shouldn’t have been in there, the patrol closed it for a reason,” Tom’s indignation at the audacity of the errant skier is apparent in his tone.

“I was going down a ways and going to cut across through the trees back to the Pali.”

“That’s no excuse to cut a closed trail. Wait, Wait I recognize you, Joe the mountain owner warned you off the trail yesterday. You’ve got to get out of there before something bad happens. It’s not worth it, trust me, I was in a slide once and you have no control over nature. It will take you and the entire mountainside along with the trees down. You need to get out of there and you need to do it now.”

 

The skier mumbles something unintelligible, slides under the ropes and slowly starts away. Tom turns and heads back down the hill, not looking back. Seeing Tom disappear the skier turns ducks back under the Out of Bounds rope and signs and skied off down the hill. He cut across an open snowfield and turns quickly along the trees of Lover’s Leap. Silently above him a large fracture appeares in the hillside several hundred yards back. An enormous slab breaks free and a wall of snow starts moving toward the unaware figure. Laughing out loud over his stroke of good fortune and newfound powder stash, he slips silently in and out of the Aspen trees as if they were racing gates. Carrying more speed than would be safe in the thickening pines he careens haphazardly back out into the open field. Suddenly he feels a wet stinging on the back of his neck and sees the snow rising up around his legs and thighs. Too late, he realizes he is in a massive avalanche and is overcome by the large wall of snow boulders and slabs. Both of his legs snap and he is tossed dangerously down the grade. The safety avalanche airbag inflates and he rises to the top of the snow as it carries him careening down the slope. It begins to settle and harden like cement around him. He has fallen hundreds of feet and can hardly see the ribbon of macadam that is Route Six as it heads up to A-Basin’s parking lot and up and over the Divide. Slowly agonizingly he claws, scratches and pulls his way along the trail until he is fifty feet from the roadside. Looking down the road he sees a car driving up the hill. He lets out a guttural scream and in desperation raises his arm in an attempt to signal for help. The car drives by unaware of the urgent need of the skier.

173-Once Upon A Time

         

        Once Upon A Time------   I dwelled upon a Mountain in a Land of a Thousand Suns. They were Great Rising Suns and I had a beautiful wife. She was the most beautiful woman in the land of light. Her name was Mom and we would rescue abused horses and heal them and set them free. We taught other people from all over the land to Rescue Horses. They were giants and we would sit in the evenings and watch the suns set, but it was never dark for long because a new sun was always rising. We would listen to the thundering hooves as they ran wild up the mountain. The setting suns lights were so bright that when the horses galloped they would glow fiery orange. It was a land of peace and harmony and there were no evil warlords because all the good nations put a stop to the last bad warlords (Mr. Strump’s) childish tantrum's because like Humpty Dumpty he couldn’t put his nation back together again after its great fall. And that's a good story right!  

PETE In Hunt

Good Story Dad!

Humpty Dumpty-Aztec Two Step

172-Life Works Itself Out

   My original vision for my collection of short stories, novel, and screenplay along with my blogs was to assemble a cross section of Americana using the Ski mountains of North America, National Forests, and American Topics as a background, and make them available to the people of other countries. The collection could then be published in conjunction with the Winter Olympics which are held every four years. The 2026 Winter Olympics are going to be held in Milan-Cortina in Italy. Cortina is the Pearl of the Dolomites befitting for the Mountain Pearl. It is also the climbing and skiing Mecca of the world. There will be 3500 Olympic and Para-olympic athletes from 93 Countries. The Olympic Logo can be obtained through the Olympic Organizing Committee and used to market the book as a promotion it can also be a part of the Olympians swag bags.The book can then be published in a multitude of languages. Since the Olympics are held every four years in seems to me that the work would be able to published in perpetuity. I believe my vision to be solid and commercially marketable.
 
   The 2030 Winter Olympics could possibly be awarded to Salt Lake City , Utah, will see the publication of the history of Arapahoe Basin in Colorado followed by or in conjunction with a screen play of the same topic. It will open up all of America to Publication. (Great Right!) The history of my blog seems to show and is trending in Singapore, Russia, Romania, France, Hong Kong, Turkey, United Kingdom, Canada and the United States. It shows a desire on the part of people in other countries to know more about American Mountains.

The Demand for my stories and blogs have motivated me to move The Lure of the Mountain King and My other blogs to book form quicker. A trilogy has emerged unexpectedly and it must be addressed. If you take into account the self-published poems there are four books. I suppose some of the other work would be considered chap books and would make for passing them out preferable to a volume.The Lure, In Search of the Mountain Pearl and Of Mountains and Men is posted but needs rewriting. I would appreciated input about the writing and how to improve it. Please feel free to follow and post your thoughts as they are very important to me. My goal is to reach the Olympics and to bring my quest for Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness to the world through Americana and freedoms that only we as Americans can Know. Help if you can! Look under (My Pages.)

   I am not sure how to accomplish this and am hoping to gain in put or support from others to help promote my work. Until then I hope that you are enjoying this journey as much as I.

Ball Of Confusion- The Temptations

171-Characterization of the Senator

 The Senator: John Blackwell

Age: 52

Physical Attributes: Soft, out of shape, puffy, drinks too much, overbearing, demeaning and abrasive.

Inherited wealth and expects the world to bend to his needs and wants.

The Senator has to be lovable in a sick way. If you cannot Love the Senator than it will be impossible to Hate him. He wants to control the entire Dillon Valley up to the Continental Divide. Although it is National Forest Property he wants to be able to strip mine Loveland Pass and the Arapahoe Basin for Molybdenum. He wants to be able to sell his mined minerals to foreign actors and will use his connections to change the status of the National Forest to mineable land. Needs to be characterized as dastardly.

Maha Mantra, Krishna Das, (Hare Krishna)