IS THIS THE LAST CHRISTMAS?

DECEMBER 21, 2012 :

Some scientists theorize that the poles will shift just at the moment that a black hole allignment, occuring only every 26,000 years, takes place.

Albert Einstein first talked of it in 1955.

The earth will slip on it axis causing many continents to move hundreds of miles in virtually a second. Many plates will fall, some thousands of feet while yet others will rise.

I see no viable way to even begin to calculate where would be a safe place to head too, given the event were to occur.

Common sense would tell me that Denver Colorado and the surrounding area (if you are in the US) would offer your best chances of survival, should you even want to face what would follow.

Know any good friends in Denver?

Pole shifts are cyclic occurrences on the Earth and the cycles are natural.

This is something that happens to the Earth naturally through cosmic cycles that happen like clockwork when looked at from the perspective of celestial events. Spiritual texts in some traditions suggest that these pole reversals happen every 26,000 years and that the north and south pole have switched before more than once.

In Hindu texts these cycles are called Yugas. Even the Bible says in Isaiah 24:1, "Behold, the Lord makes the earth empty, and makes it waste, and turns it upside down."

The Mayans also have records and legends of such occurrences. Somewhere in humanity's innate knowledge, this information is within and is recorded in a way that could be taken quite literally in light of today's challenges with the possible 2012 polar shift coming soon.

Scientific proof and evidence shows that there have been pole reversals before on Earth as well.

It is a natural cycle when Earth goes above and below the galactic equator every 26,000 years.

It takes 26,000 years for this solar system to make one full orbit around the galactic center. Each time it does this it goes through the galactic equator and the Earth's poles reverse. This happens back and forth every 26,000 years.

Go to Australia. The water swirls down the drain in the opposite direction of where it does above the equator. What other principles we take for granted will be reversed when our solar system crosses the galatic equator?

If a pole shift does take place, it is said that the axis and magnetism of Earth will be changed, the poles will flip and reverse so that the south pole will have a positive magnetic charge instead of a negative magnetic charge,

and the north pole will have a negative magnetic charge instead of the positive magnetic charge it now has.

When this happens, it is believed that the Earth's rotation will change as well. The Earth's rotation will completely reverse and will literally spin in the opposite direction.

Now no one knows this for sure, but scientists at NASA are presuming the reversal would take place. The science of magnetism depicts that if the poles reverse then Earth's rotation will also reverse.

The cataclysmic effects would be that the bodies of water would actually move just the way the water in a glass would slosh if the direction the glass is moving is changed.

All the people who live in the "slosh zone" would be subject to tsunamis and flooding in 2012 if 2012 is when it happens. This is the scientific premise in the 2012: We Were Warned movie and the movie asks "what if the Earth's spin changed, the poles flip, and the water moves?"

Of course this question gives way to another "end of the world" cataclysmic movie, which Hollywood seems to love putting out, and of course the public supports this by buying tickets! It seems that everyone loves a good special effects "end of the world" disaster movie.

But I, for one, do not want to LIVE one!

The other thing that would happen according to scientists is that the Earth would not be stable during such a drastic change in its magnetic field.

Tectonic plates would shift and move, earthquakes would happen, volcanic activity would be triggered, and incredible storms with wind and water would happen on the surface of the Earth while the weather patterns readjust.

This of course would not support human habitation. If the 2012 polar shift is this drastic, yes, everyone would have serious challenges in surviving it.

NASA has verified that there is now positive magnetism energy appearing in the south pole, which is normally supposed to be in the north pole only.

The South pole is supposed to only have a negative magnetic charge.

In the past 150 years, there has been a migration between the north and south poles and their respective magnetic charges of positive and negative magnetic reversal.

Another thing that NASA has observed is that the sun literally reverses its poles every 11 years at the peak of each sunspot cycle. The solar pole shift will happen again in 2012 exactly.

The good news?

According to a recent study by an associate professor at UC Santa Barbara, the date may also be inaccurate and at least 60 days off.

So we will have one more Christmas at least.

Or you could buy my THE LAST SHAMAN and see the Lakota Sioux take on 2012 (in Part II : TWILIGHT'S CHILDREN) for only 99 cents :

http://www.amazon.com/THE-LAST-SHAMAN-ebook/dp/B00534OEL4

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DESTINY FINDS US WHETHER WE WANT TO BE FOUND OR NOT :

THE LAST SHAMAN by best-selling author - Roland Yeomans

{Cover format courtesy of Wendy Tyler Ryan}



Hey, I can dream, can't I?

"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside,

somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature and God.

Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be

and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature."

- Anne Frank

THE LAST SHAMAN is another novella submitted to Kindle for their Singles Division. Wish me luck there.

The time has come to listen to the echoes from our land...

the wisdom and teachings of the mountains, streams, and woods.

Their words are simple and their voices are soft. We have not heard them, because we have not taken the time to listen.

We have been too busy smothering them in crypts of concrete and steel.

Perhaps now is the time to open our ears and our hearts to the words of wisdom whispered on the last winds of this world

before the final sunset bleeds across the horizon.

Journey with the last Lakota shaman, Wolf Howl. The white govenments call him Drew August. Those who hunt him call him Death.

His is the power of the mind unleashed. His is the curse of seeing that the world is sailing into regions of space where different rules apply,

where different predators hunt, and the race of Man is heading towards that final conflict the Mayans predicted so long ago.

The last day of Man has dawned.

Watch as Wolf Howl turns to meet his human hunters. Shadow, the love of his life, returns to aid his hunters. Then, Mankind's death descends. Can he save Shadow before the world's time runs out?

Give it a try. It's only 99 cents. How cool is that?
***

DANCERS ON A LAKE OF BLUE FIRE_PART 4 of 4_TWILIGHT'S CHILDREN

The Death prophesied by the Mayans long ago has come to claim the Earth.

It is straining to get into Wolf Howl's hospital room.

But he is the last Lakota shaman and to protect the woman he loves,

he will fight the darkness as long as he can ....}


The cheap wood of the door began to splinter, wisps of growling blackness squirming through the cracks. Shadow looked at the gun in her hand. I hoped she wouldn't shoot through the door.

It would only help the darkness get in quicker.

Her long black hair whipped about her face as she turned to me. "Do something, Drew!"

"Remember how to dance?"

"What? Are you insane?"

"You can have known me this long and ask that?"

The streams of ink mist swam in quick currents together, forming a shape that seemed both unfamiliar and familiar --- and altogether terrifying.

"Drew!"

"Remember where we first met?"

"Y-Yes."

"Me, too."

And praying to The Great Mystery that her memories and mine were the same, I plucked the gun from her hand.

After all, there is no more dangerous a creature than a terrified assassin with a loaded gun.

Wrapping my fingers gently around hers, I spun us in a fluid first step of a waltz only I could hear. The black shape lunged for us.

The creature, like the White Man before it, had been too confident, too slow.

I flipped up the first three fingers of my right hand and smiled like my namesake. “Read between the lines.”

I could only imagine the confused look on its terrible face for Shadow and I were no longer in the hospital room to see it.

In fact for a flicker of a heartbeat we were no longer on GrandMother's shores at all.

We were ... sideways.

And then, I felt Shadow stumble in my arms as the contours of the tile floor changed beneath our feet to the curved softness of grass.

I looked down on her stunned face. I remembered that Shadow understood Latin.

"Superior stabat lupus, longeque inferior agnus."

She frowned, "The wolf is upstream, and the lamb is downstream? What the bloody hell, are you --"

Then, she noticed our change in locales. "The Isle of Syke!"

"The Old Man of Storr to be exact."

Frigid winds buffeted us. Night was dying hard.

We were at the top of the weird-shaped remains of an ancient volcanic plug on the ragged hill which overlooked the Sound of Raasay.

The terrain was harsh and moon-like. The grass beneath our feet was black and seared, all the life leeched from it. A new kind of death had come to these shores.

And so had we. I had bent the cloth of GrandMother's dress to nudge us to the largest island northwest of Scotland. The Isle of Skye.

In the Norse sagas it had gone by the name of Skio. What had been that line in the legend of Hakonarsonar?

'The hunger battle-birds filled Skye with blood of foemen killed.' From what I was seeing, the poet must have been a prophet.

Shadow seemed to be of a like mind as the breath left her. We both looked down upon an eerily transformed Loch Leathan.

It stretched as far as the eye could see in the hellish half-light. I tried to swallow and couldn’t.

I could believe this was Man's last day. The loch was blue fire, and white electric mists were slowly rising from the hidden surface.

And laughing dancers who bore no semblance to man or animal floated from wave to wave in flashes of lightning and lilts of ethereal song not unlike the piping of Apache spirit flutes.

Beyond them, ghostly writhing shadows sat in small, graceful sky-blue boats decorated with golden runes and figureheads of black winged creatures.

Only three small boats that I could see, but they headed towards the receding darkness. Away from us.

I finally managed a swallow. If we had come any sooner, they would have feasted upon us. Now, they were chasing the night in search of new prey.

But with the return of night, they would be back. They would be hungry. And we would be dead.

Shadow watched them slip beyond the cusp of the awakening horizon. She shivered. Then, with a whip of her long hair, she turned to me.

"Sideways, huh?"

"It seemed the way to go."

"Now, what?"

"We chase the dawn."

"That's your plan? Live out our lives running in circles?"

I arched an eyebrow. "I believe that's the human condition."

"And when we get tired of running?"

"We stop and face the night."

"And do what?"

"Fight the darkness ... until we can't."

"That's it?"

I suddenly saw the terrified face of the twenty year old she had been settle like an after-image over her taunt face. "That's all there ever was, Shadow."

"No! I refuse to believe that. I - I have to believe there's something more. I have to!"

Her body was so rigid and taunt I half-expected her to snap like a rubber band. I sucked in a breath. I was expecting too much of her.

She was only white. She could only take so much truth. It was bad enough she was going to die, I couldn't crush her spirit as well.

I forced a smile. "Well, I've managed to survive this long by living in denial. There's always that."

I handed her back her gun. She took in a ragged breath. And with a wolf's smile, she chambered in a round.

"Damn straight!"

I figured she had the damned part right. But I wasn't about to tell that to a terrified assassin with a loaded gun. I winked at her.

"Besides, the Aztecs said we had until December. Let's go see how much trouble we can get into in two months."

She winked back. "Now, that sounds like my kind of plan."

I took her left hand and walked into the harsh glare of the last dawn. My heart heavy within me, I looked up into the inflamed frost and flame of the winter sky. Each step felt as if I were losing ground.

I caught Shadow looking at me strange. No. This was wrong. I was behaving like a white. I was the last Lakota. And my People deserved better than I was behaving.

"Excuse me, Shadow."

I gently released her left hand. Unclenching my fists, I raised open palms to The Great Mystery, thanking him for the cold breath in my lungs, for the caress of Winter on my face, and for worthy enemies at whom to bare my teeth and drag with me over the cliffs of death.

Father Sun was warm to my face. And once more I could feel GrandMother firm beneath my feet.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Shadow tuck her gun under her belt and raise open palms to the inflamed, bruised sky. I smiled.

There was hope for her after all.

Maybe there was hope for us, too.

{FINI?}
***

A WHOLE NEW TWIST TO REALITY_PART 3 OF 4_TWILIGHT'S CHILDREN

{Wolf Howl, the last Lakota shaman, has apparently been captured. Or has he?

Or has the wolf merely cornered his hunters?

He is trying to tell Shadow, the Mossad assassin in his hospital room,

that world politics cease to mean anything at the end of the world ...}



Shadow said, "2012 is just another year.'

I shook my head. "The Aztecs thought different. It is October of the last year in their calendar. We have until ...."

"December twenty-first. I know, I read those phony tabloids, too."

The blank cyclop eye of the television blurred. The screen began to bubble and boil. And me without a remote to change channels.

This put a whole new twist to "Reality TV."

No longer shiny and black, its surface grew gray and smoky. Faint tendrils of mist breathed from it as if from Hell.

"Check out time," I whispered.

I blew upon the handcuff restraining me. It flared bright, then slowly faded as if only an after-image from a flash bulb. It made a low sputtering sound to disappear completely.

I rose from the bed with a grunt. Damn right knee. It would never heal completely. Good. The pain would help keep me centered.

Shadow pointed her gun at me. "Hold it right there, Wolf Howl."

I smiled grimly. She was trying to distance how she felt about me by using my Sioux name.

She kept on, "You know me. I won't hesitate."

The glass of the barred window began to splinter. I backed up. Not that way.

I turned to the door. A blackness seemed to breathe and grunt softly from beyond it. Not that way either.

Shadow muttered, "Ben Zonah (and no, you don’t want to know what that means in Yiddish.)"

I followed her eyes. Steaming, bubbling blood was seeping towards us from under the closed door. Above me the foam ceiling started bulging and creaking.

"Time to think sideways," I murmured.

I tapped my chest, and the hospital gown that had never truly been there wisped away to show my old flannel shirt, jeans, and hiking boots.

And yes, I had been in bed with my boots on.

John Wayne's ghost would be proud of me. I had wanted to die with my boots on. Wayne had had a good heart ... for a white man.

I walked to the closet door and opened it. I stopped in mid-stride. No clothes. No nothing. Just the deepest tar-pit of night. I shivered as a wave of icicles seemed to wash down my spine.

Shadow snapped, "A Broch (think of the Yiddish phrase as ‘Damn it!’ on steroids.) We're trapped."

My own throat was thick with fear. "It seems like sideways is the only way we've got."

The Spanish soldier Gil Perez in 1593 had lifted his right foot up from the dust in front of the Governor's Palace in Manila only to place it down on the cobblestones of Plaza Mayor in Mexico City.

In 1959 tourist Rick Stevens had stepped out of his car in Reno only to place both feet on the grass of Juarez, Mexico. Space can bend like fabric. It happens. Rarely. But it happens.

I had been born with the ability to do it on demand, along with other disturbing talents. Don't envy me. Because of that fact I have been hunted all my life.

Shadow thrust the muzzle of her automatic at me. "Make it stop!"

"Whites. You always think with your guns. Shoot the darkness, Shadow. See if that makes it go away."

"Stop it!, " cried Shadow in a husk.

"Fuck!," came a muffled voice from beyond the hospital door.

There had been terror, not anger, to that one word. The lights inside the room flickered, died, then the back-up light in the far corner came on.

My face became flint. It just kept getting better and better. Outside the door, the man tried for his one word epitaph again but was cut off midway.

I frowned. Fuck. That word had become the duct tape holding the White Man's conversations together. Without it, he would be helpless to communicate. Hell, even with it he was.

GrandMother was angry thunder above me.

She disapproved of profanity. Especially mine.

Man's language had acted as the prism to focus her awareness into clarity. And so she held words sacred as she did little else connected to Man.

How many times had she told me,

'Profanity is a weed that chokes the growth of words in your mind, GrandSon. What does that shrinks its grasp. Let the Whytes put chains on their thoughts. Let yours roam free to grow strong, for your mind is all that stands between you and the darkness that waits to devour you.'

Of course, the white doctors insisted I was only talking to myself when I heard GrandMother's voice. Maybe yes.

I chose to believe no. And in the end, what we choose to believe is up to us. Perhaps our first act of free will is to believe that free will exists at all.

The cheap wood of the door began to splinter, wisps of growling blackness squirming through the cracks.

Shadow looked at the gun in her hand. I hoped she wouldn't shoot through the door. It would only help the darkness get in quicker.

Her long black hair whipped about her face as she turned to me. "Do something, Drew!"

"Remember how to dance?"

"What? Are you insane?"

"You can have known me this long and ask that?"
***

TWLIGHT'S CHILDREN_PART 1 of 4_TESSA'S OUTSIDE THE BOX BLOGFEST

http://tessasblurb.blogspot.com/2010/10/announcing-outside-of-my-box.html


Tessa wants us to write outside our comfort zone. Oddly enough, so did my best friend, Sandra.

I complained to her a dozen times too many about Justin Cronin telling not showing his novel THE PASSAGE.

She challenged me to write a short story doing what did Justin did but better. Obviously, he was aiming at something he missed.

Could I do any better?

And so the short sequel to THE COLOR OF HER THOUGHTS {and my take on the end prophecised for 2012} was born. Here are the first three pages ....}


TWILIGHT'S CHILDREN

From the cliff of our birth we keep falling, falling. Our fingers reach out for something to hold on to.

Money. Power. Sex.

But they are lies, mirages without substance. We are in free fall. Despite the lie we tell ourselves, we all hit bottom. Yet somehow it always feels like a betrayal.

You would think that we would finally realize the truth. But what is it that the white historians say? The past is prologue.

We First People knew better. The past is only a footnote. As Man is but a footnote in the ancient history of GrandMother Earth.

She existed long before Man peered with bewildered eyes out of his cave. She would be here long after his useless monuments to himself had crumbled back into her soil.

Darkness was descending. And soon would end Man's strange history. Would he, like the dinosaur before him, stare fearful and uncomprehending into the storm that swallowed all his preconceptions into oblivion?

The lights to the room flickered. An odd coldness settled upon me. I had been sensing it for years. It had to begin sometime. And now it had.

Night pressed in on the window. Wings, large and leathery, beat my death song in the darkness. I looked at my wrist handcuffed to the railing of the hospital bed.

White Men. They had always made my life interesting. Why shouldn't they make my death the same?

I looked out through the locked window. Nothing. Not yet. But I sensed a straining from beyond the glass, from beyond what the White Man foolishly called reality.

Man sought to explore that imagined reality as he struggled to roam the stars in ships. I shook my head. He was already on one.

The living planet who gave him birth.

She sailed through a sea of stars at speeds Man could only dream of attaining in his fragile vessels of steel.

Like the most agile of ballerinas, GrandMother Earth spins on her toes at just over a thousand miles an hour.

With the Northern Lights in her wake, she swims through the icy void around her father, Sun, in strokes of over sixteen and a half miles a second.

While Sun holds his daughter in his mighty arms of gravity, he speeds towards a dark destination in a gait of some twelve miles a second.

It is a wonder our noses don't bleed and our heads fly from our very shoulders.

The White Man had become arrogant in his mastery of science as the dinosaur had become confident their rule would never end.

But I had seen the rules of science grow dark with the dawn of quantum mechanics. In the microverse, the same rules did not apply. In fact, often they were reversed.

Why did the White Man feel it would be otherwise in the macroverse?

In my bones I felt GrandMother Earth was just now at the edge of seas where different rules applied.

The freakish weather pointed to it. Energy blackouts were on the rise. Insanity's bloody crimes were daily shouted from the headlines.

GrandMother had taught the First People how to survive in such a realm. The White Man in his arrogance and greed had succeeded in nearly wiping us from her shores.

Most of her teaching to us had been lost.

Was I the last to know it as she had taught it? If so, it would be poetic justice, for the White Man wanted me dead. He would certainly get death.

Killing me would signal the end for him and the rest of Twilight's children.

I stared into the alien depths between familiar stars and whispered, "Weep not for the dead nor mourn him. Rather weep for him who goes away, for he shall return no more nor see his native country."

They were the words of Jeremiah, speaking of another enforced exodus. Jeremiah. I made a sour face. Though the White Man claimed him, he was mostly forgotten ...

or dismissed out of hand as a relic from the past. He was much like the Lakota in that.

The Something beyond the window laughed. The sound rose, spindled, and twisted like icy smoke from the funeral pyre of Man.

The straining stopped outside the window. The cold presence swept away into the night. It was gone.

For the moment.

Death was both patient and impatient. The presence would be back. After all, it had all the time in the world. And Man? He had squandered most of his.

And me? I could not win. But perhaps I could lose more slowly. A darkness within whispered I had best try for this was my last hand.

What had Thomas Wolfe written at his last?

I said the words low, "Something has spoken to me in the night, burning the tapers of the waning year. Something has spoken in the night, and told me I shall die. I know not where."

The door to my hospital room opened silent and quick. A chill filled the darkness within me.

The Mossad assassin, Shadow.

She stood in the doorway and looked at me with haunted green eyes. In her mid-thirties now, she had been a lost angel at twenty when I had spared her on the Isle of Skye. Now she was just a fallen angel, no longer able to remember the scent of lost innocence.

There was a solid finger-wide streak of moon-white at her right temple. GrandMother's Sign. Estanatlehi always marked those she chose to heal.
***