The Duality Tri-fecta

Golden Path?
Disclosure?

What in the hell are we looking for?
I know what I am looking for… …disclosure. It seems – well – kind of odd to me, reading myself as it is – why anyone would take me seriously.
Hell, I have a hard enough time taking myself seriously.

There are however those nagging things that keep me going strong… …like that keyword called “disclosure” that hit me like a ton-o-bricks many years ago. I was living in a very small travel trailer – staying low and as far off the grid as possible – going to a community collage and working part time – basically to meet girls and keep busy. It was a funny looking place. The satilite dish was as big as the "house"...
It was kind’a surreal living there – not much bigger than a office, mostly a tiny studio apartment with wheels. The television took up an entire portion as big as it was, but that 47 inch tube flat screen fit within an half inch clearance in the area that was supposed to be space enough for a three person couch. What whe're we smaller back then?
Even then I was feeling like – well – like something was completely missing. I had skills and abilities that few had – and I didn’t know how or where I had learned them. I just tried to push all that back, back into my mind and not even worry about it.
Several weeks before the whole disclosure revelation, I had been to a hippie party where I preached gospel one night – and rolled a handful of skin heads single handed the next night.
It never occurred to me then, just how I could preach like best. People asked, I told them – I learned at an early age when I was in Army Schools – I was trained to be a priest. I just said it. It just came out of my mouth – and it was like choacking up a ball of guilt that had been lodged in my throat… …it was truth and I was finally admitting to myself after many years of suppressing it to some degree of success to the other… …after that was said – the guilt came back – and I went back to that dark place I dwelt. People asked again – and I denied it ever happened – I even threatened pain to anyone who stated it was true. They relented – and they didn’t understand. Neither did I.
Then the next night some young ruffians came by – starting trouble, wearing swastikas… …shit hit the fan when they found out I was a brown skinned preacher. It’s funny – I don’t remember feeling any malice or hatred – I remember feeling empowered enough to do the things I did without pulling my two colt revolvers out and starting to blast away. All it was – was me standing in the middle of a small clearing alone aside from the bonfire breaking noses and busting kneecaps… …no one lifted a finger to help me (damm pacifist hippies). …I hurt people horribly and I felt no guilt.
Apparently, this turns women on immensely. After the rumble had gone down, and several of the women asked there men why they couldn’t fight like that. …I suppressed a grin successfully and checked the status of my colt pistols. A man across the fire asked “Why didn’t you use those?” I apparently scared the man when I look at him for he winced when I said just loud enough to be heard by everyone: “Did it LOOK like I needed to use them?” There was real nervous laughter and then a silence so deep I could there heartbeats over the crackle of the fire. I put my 45’s back into my pit holders and lit up a smoke and starred into the fire. Someone handed me a beer, a Guinness, one of mine to be exact – and a big fatty, – I thanked the individual without even looking at him/her and all I heard was “No, …thank you.” In a whisper so low I could barely hear it.
After a while of me staring with menace into the fire, wondering just exactly what I was, and what I was becoming – the party returned to normal. About an hour later a very good looking native park ranger showed up asking around about who sent all the skin heads to the local emergency room. “What fight? There was no fight. I don’t know what your talking about!” To me there was no fight – I didn’t preach – I didn’t fight – I didn’t do anything… …yet – it happened and a deep dark part of me refused to admit it. Another part of me had broken through as well – I wanted to stand up and be recognized – I wanted to tell the truth.
I left the fire and the cold drove me back to it about a half hour later. I had seen the green park ranger’s truck leave and I thought the coast was clear. I was wrong.
She wasn’t there to bust me – but to bed me with congratulations. Turns out these bozo’s had been terrorizing all over the state park right next door to the native lands. Since they weren’t doing anything they could charge them with they had to put up with them…
It was a really crazy and wild weekend. It was an eye-opener – at least for me – being strictly military and ending up a full blown hippie party. Add one part booze, one part herb, two parts free loving women and a dash of Nazis – and you have one hell of a martini…

While I had been awakening earlier – I seriously think that the straight up freedom of the gathering fueled the nature of me to preach – which surprised me greatly – the words just came from my mouth like a flood of waters from a lion… I was shocked, scared – and yet I could not stop myself. I became someone I once knew and someone I didn’t want to remember at the same time. I didn’t want to remember how peaceful and love filled I could be. I loved it.
The fear of basically death must have pushed that Lion in me even further. Being surrounded by enemy in a do or die situation made something snap – and again I became something familiar and scary. The adrenaline coursed through me like the sweet morphine. I took my licks – but delved out more than my far share. I relished the snapping of bones and the splatter of blood. I was awash in my own giant sized ego – refusing to go down to that filth. I knew this man, he was with me always – darkness held in a vessel that was cracked and then split. Once my vengeful side was released – there was no turning back – and I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to remember my darkest most violent side.

And then it comes to this.
I was living a fine life before I remembered who I was.
Golden path? Sounds like Wiz-O-Oz… …Shit, who’s the asshole behind the curtain? Why is it when I pry the iron curtain back a smidge they put me in a mental ward surrounded by former NFL linebackers? Am I that dangerous?
I would have rather just lived my life not knowing about this duality of myself. I would have rather lived an unwitting lamb up until the day I died.
I would have preferred that Hoagland just stated – NO! I have never been in a basement in Fairbanks Alaska for a 33rd briefing. But… …nooooo – he starts writing articles about Masons and then spills the beans in a book detailing [to a point] the old timer’s duty… …what’s the working title of the next book? … “The Sword”?
“Need to know”, he says… …well – I NEED TO KNOW.
I guess in the end I asked for this.
A man broken into thirds – a saint, a sinner, and a solider.

A life of love and vengeance…It’s an infantryman’s life – and that’s the life for me…

HHMSS SWORD