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Symbols, money and the clues about our future past

Yesterday, I felt a sense of urgency. “Do I still have my crystal ball?” Then this morning, I read a ten year old link asking, “What color are your bits?”

After browsing for a moment, I sent a quick note to my team…about the rocket ship product. Not the bicycle, which is what we’re building now. The crystal ball was for me, yesterday and the link this morning was to remind me something.

I owe my children a copy of our family tree; over the holiday, I need to ask my dad to make a copy and figure it out while I’m there. It’s important, because family is important.

People matter, especially those people who love you and that hold a special place in your heart. It doesn’t take a crystal ball to know a father loves his children. That love, that feeling, holds a special place in my heart. While I love my dad, the feeling I have for my children is infinitely deeper, wider, different. It’s hard to explain but I think it has to do with basic, human evolution. If fundamentally our species is here for survival, then we’re obligated to have more.

If for some strange reason, there’s a higher purpose to all this, it’s up to us to discover it, share it, embrace it…nurture it. Right? Knowledge is real. It’s powerful. It’s visceral, like the truth. Like love, it can be felt, it can be grabbed, held and understood in a way that transcends something as crude as the phonetic language we all share.

The greatest keys to scientific inquiry lie wrapped in a conundrum

Or maybe not, I did, after all, lead this post with a crystal ball, rigth? Pagan tradition has gypsies that go around telling you your future. The savvier among us know that when the enlightened gypsies came to town, what happened? They told the truth, and were run off by the good townspeople.

How can you trust those with no notion of property?

It’s a sick parallel of what happened to the gypsies in Europe, what the arriving Europeans did to the native people here. Again, how can you trust those with no notion of rights, responsibilities, ideas that can’t be communicated in words, in language, because language itself is an artifact of cultural bias. Of a strict, dogmatic way of thinking.

Today I have, as usual, too much to do and as they say, there is no rest for the wicked. There’s a concept, floating in the air, surrounded by heat, by warmth. It’s cold outside and inside, there’s a fire. It’s enabling me to feel good, to smile. The light spills forth from my eyes, and my fingertips start to glow.

Colors, a pulsating, mesh rainbow, start to pulse. I wake up, smiling.

There’s good work to be done.