That's Just The Way It Is.
The gnome was just as you would picture him. Red stalking cap, beard, short, fat round nose, blue bib coveralls, red elf shoes. Thats just the way it is.
The gnome wandered through the forest in little circles. There was nothing else he could do, afterall, there were no flatscreens in the forest and he could never watch CSI ...... anything! Thats just the way it is.
Until one day a subdivision of houses went up on the very edge of the forest. They built all sixty-one houses three meters away from one three days! Thats just the way it is.
The gnome eventually took note, and, having grown tired of endlessly retracing his own steps in the forest, for centuries, entertained a great plan.
He could save himself and all of his fellow gnomes from the horror of living without flatscreens!
The subdivision of houses soon gathered about itself a few businesses, he noticed. A small school, a quick shop, a Donut shop, a u storage place, and, most importantly, a nursery.
One dark and misty night, during a very full moon, that no one could see, the gnome executed faze one of his plan.
He blundered through the fog and eventually found his way to the nursery. Then he began his endless, mind numbing, circling. In this way he explored the outside displays of many new kinds of plants, of wonderous waterfalls and fountains. Another of stepping stones. But after awhile he found another gnome!
Or, so it seemed, at first.
This other gnome was frozen stiff ! He was horrified at the evil magic that had done this! He reached out and touched the long straight arm and......yep.....frozen to stone. He felt the big metal ring in the fist of the gnome. It moved! But the poor black gnome would not. Strange.
Not because daylight was coming, the gnome stood next to the frozen black gnome. And then he froze himself.
A little magic, from time to time, does go a long way. Thats just the way it is.
Daylight arrived and so did the humans.
Days went by and other gnomes began to show up, having heard about the poor black, frozen ring holder. The gnomes lined up in support.
Soon, humans began to take the gnomes home and place them around their houses.
And it was no different for the gnome. He found himself in a small garden. A tiny garden. But he could see through a window a giant flatscreen!
As fate would have it, the human that lived there, worked in an advertising firm. One day he took the gnome to work and presented an idea to his boss. The gnome was catapulted into fame overnight. He got to travel the entire world. He did travel commercials.
After a while, the gnome found that he was doing the same thing as he had always done : travel in circles. Sure, the circles were much larger, and he now had his own flatscreen, but circles none the less.
But, all of the gnomes, now had jobs and homes.
They could all watch their flatscreens and their tiny gardens.
Thats just the way it is.

By Chuck Milton.


The sound was haunting in its almost unendurable beauty. Not quite that of a piccalo, nor that of a bag-pipe. It was somewhere inbetween.
And then the sound would slide down into a whispering echo.
Haunting. Somehow luring and with unspoken, unsung promise. Something almost remembered at the very edge of one's mind. Lost in the grey folds of the brain. The dream that you have just awakened from, and can not recall even one detail. A dream of only a nano-second ago. And, try as you might....
The sound twisted in its complexity. It twisted around the ancient trees in the middle of the forest. The heart of the old forest. The exact place where humans would barely whisper soft words.
But this was a magical place.
A very, very, very old place.
A place that was exceptionally hard to find. No one had ever been there. Ever.

No human footstep had ever trod the living moss underfoot. There were no trails. No sidewalks. No blazes on any of the ancient trees. There was not even one forest service sign.

The eerie music wove among the huge trees in this special place. This heart of peace in a world driven mad by the greed of mankind.
Time was almost a joke here. A moment was a day. A second, a year.
The trees never changed. And neither did the loving song of they who can protect such places.


The Yellow Band Of Gold by C. Milton
October 24, 2012 at 5:12pm
The following story is true.

Climbing away from the "low" mountain pass was the trail. Up, up, up. I could see the tan colored trail zig-zagging across the steep mountain slope before me. Several thousand feet of it. And none of it went down. Up, up, up until completely lost to my sight. It snaked into the mountain peaks that scratched at the blue sky.
I, or rather, my body, began to sweat in anticipation of the long and steep climb ahead. Droplets ran down my stubbled jawline only to join together at the point of my chin.
I took off my pack and sat in the shade of a boulder. I sat so that I could see the trail. Perhaps it would all change into something easier and I did not wish to miss that magical moment. I blinked, slowly, several times. There was no change.
At the loss of this magical hope, I rummaged around in my backpack. There is a trick that I know about. It is the other hope. The exact balance of a bar of chocolate before such a hard climb. And, it seems to always work!
Thus fortified by "the food of the Gods", I shrugged into my pack and marched up the ever steepening trail.
Hours later, and finally among the once distant purple peaks, the trail had had to be built through solid rock. Not just any rock either, but Granite rock. Granite. Rock that is so hard, and durable, that it is forever used in monument making. So much so, that it is a wonder to me that there would be any granite left in the wild.
So many headstones. How many cemetaries?
I could see bore holes in the stones and boulders around me. Drill holes made big enough in diameter as to accept the exact size of a stick of dynamite. I could see the star pattern shock of the detonations in the trail under my boots.
I bent down for a closer inspection of one such blast site. Lines radiating away through the hard, grey, stone. Forever marking the epicenters of the decades old explosions.
Standing back up, I took-in the view. The long trail that lay behind me. The deep valley and mountain pass below. The ever-present hazy cloud on the horizons. Most of mankind live under that cloud.
I could almost hear the echoes of the trail builder's explosions.
But, as always, what I really heard was the incessant and lonely winds found in such places.
I listened for a while then.
It is one of my most favorite songs, that lonely wind. That isolated spot. The stars below my feet. The bulk of humanity below their created cloud.
After a time I moved on.
After a time.
Recharged in my spirit.

Toward sundown I found the trail to have been cut through huge walls of the dark granite. Cliffs that had no tops and no bottoms. Hundreds, possibly, thousands, of feet to the top or bottom. A rock pathway blasted into endless seeming granite faces. To step off of the trail here would mean certain death.
As I rounded the peak that would hide the high-mountain, valley pass, the wind grew to a much stronger intensity. It pushed at the backpack strapped to me and knocked me off balance! My hands shot out to the cracks in the cliff face. I held on. My fingers turning bloodless white as pressure was applied against the gusts. The granite dust whipped around me and flew in great waves into my face.
I closed my eyes to this sudden onslaught of flying debris. My hands, at blood loss, were saving my worthless life by gripping the cracks as the wind jerked at me.
Needless to say, no one could walk normal under such gusty conditions. Forward progress was the same speed as that of a common garden snail.
God had turned up the volumne knob on my favorite song.
The wind screamed.
I live for such moments. I seek them out upon our Earth. They are a personal enrichment test.

My spirit is golden-lined because of these adventures.

After some time, I rounded the huge granite peak. An invisible line that I crossed that led deeper into the higher mountains ahead.
The sun was sinking and the Pine tree shadows quickened the darkness in the thin air.
On the opposite side of the mountain, I felt the metal.
A line in the Earth. Just ahead. Cutting deep through the granite.
I knelt to look at the massive gold line. Six inches wide and stretching away, on both sides, for as far as I could feel.

I knelt there for fifteen minutes.

The high mountains. No roads. No cars. No trucks. No people. No buildings.

I smiled and stood up after reaching down and touching the rich gold vein.

I hiked away.


Moons in the Heavens,
The Rains are there too.
Directed by Man,
The Storms at You!
Think in their box,
Don't question a thing.
The End of this age,
and no golden ring.
So, dance in the rain,
The Fog and the Dew!
Twirl in the Mist,
A Fountain near you.

Views: 13

Replies to This Discussion

He's been in my head for two days.

looks like he's trying to get a hold of you.

It was what used to happen before he'd turn up ... :-)


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