Journey’s Start

Moses has faxed handwritten notes.  I will attempt to transcribe here.  I apologize for typoes.  His handwriting is not the clearest.  More to follow.

M. Matthews

6/24/2011

Notes to myself:

– I am on a 7 something morning train to New York City.  The day, it’s like sunshine and humidity rolled into a cigar of transit ready to be lit.
I watch the commuters around me.  They are trying to grab the last moments of self before disembarking at NY Penn Station and jobs and demands that support a life.

I, free, float, time flying past me unable to find perch, use these moments to see my old life one last time.  I will travel now.  Move in rhythms undefined yet foisting the lesson on me.  Lucky.   Yes.  I have money and freedom for this exploration.  But, I think I would trade my freedom for their cage.  They know who they are and what they fight for every day.  I follow whim and metaphor searching for answers to questions I little fathom.

– The train pulled into New York Penn Station on time.  As memory serves, for commuting  this is unique.  I stood in the middle of the large room, a
big board announcing all the departure gates hung from the middle of the ceiling.  Standing there, no clue what to do next, I thought, “This is what it is to be feral … wild.”

I had a backpack, cash, no cell phone and no direction.  So, I watched for a moment.  People scurried about with what appeared determined direction.  But to my observation, it seemed false.  I remembered rushing to meetings, to deadlines important then but meaningless now.

In retrospect, my next step was synchronous, a path laid prior to any decision of my own.  I walked out of the bowels of the train station and into the Border’s Bookstore.  Why, I don’t know.  At that moment the concept of a directionless pathway was almost paralyzing.  Two floors of books, videos and coffee was a momentary mooring for this waterless wayfarer.

My first impulse was to seek out the science section but whim spun me towards fiction.  I browsed down the aisle reading titles and author’s names.  At “Shepard” he jumped out at me like a snake surprised in a rocky crag.  Grandfather, or his earthly avatar, Sam Shepard had a new book of stories.  I pulled it from the shelf and his picture stared up at me from the back cover.  A picture I have used on my blog with that cat who ate the mouse grin and “I know things” twinkle in the eyes.

Grandfather.

It appeared I was not on a journey or vision quest but rather a scavenger hunt set for me by the gods’ of chaos.  Flipping through the pages my next step became clear.  I bought the book and left the store.  Picked up a coffee as I walked up town.  My vision became tunneled as I moved north.  People parted way for me.  My crazed look comes in handy at times.

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About moses' blog

Moses Haygood is an accomplished television writer, investigator and author. From UFOs to monsters, most of his professional life has been writing about or debunking the miraculous. Moses is now on a course of personal research hoping to undercover his past. In 1989, he was found on a desert roadside with no memory. View all posts by moses' blog

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