Wednesday, October 7, 2015


I can't remember his real name, but everyone called him "Stony". Probably because of his history of being stoned on drugs, although everyone knew his favorite drink was alcohol. I remember seeing Stony at the cement block building where my dad had his office in El Paso. Stony usually hung out at the bar at the end of the complex. Sometimes you would see him, and sometimes he would disappear to stay with friends somewhere, but in time he would come home... wherever "home" was around there. We never quite knew where Stony slept most of the time, but occasionally it was in the jail across the street because he had gotten into a bar fight.

But today I write about Stony not because of what he was, or because of what he wasn't. I write about Stony because of my own guilt... a shadow that will lie dark on my life and in my heart for a long time to come, which may grow into hopefully a help to others because I will ensure that this kind of thing won't happen again. My guilt is not present because of what I did, but because of what I didn't do. I avoided Stony. He was nothing but kind to me. All the years we knew him he was always there at the office door, and he would come in asking for $5 in trade for taking out the garbage, sweeping up the sidewalk outside, or any little thing that my dad needed on any particular day. This went on a couple times a week for months, and the months turned into years. Stony was always there (except when in jail), and always ready and willing to help.

I remember one time when someone molested my daughter and Stony spoke up, "You just say the word and I'll take care of that guy! I'll get someone to take me out there and you won't ever have to worry about that guy again. I'll take care of him for good." Stony meant it, which is why we did not act on that offer. He always asked about me, even when I was gone. He would do anything for me. I have no idea why he liked me, but he did. I recall his kind eyes behind his messy hair and ragged clothes. One side of his face was larger than the other, almost as if permanently swollen due to too many bar fights and broken cheekbones or the like. Once in a while he would want a hug, and I would hug him.

I remember the last time I saw him, when I visited the office I worked at years ago, where my dad still was, and Stony still hung around. Just this summer he was there when I swung by. Two times I saw him, but both times I was on my way out the door. He didn't ask for a hug, and I sighed in relief. Nice enough guy, but I just didn't want to hug him. Sometimes he stunk, and sometimes I was afraid he might get fresh with me, even though he never did. He liked me, you see, and kept no secrets that if I were "available" he would want me. But it was not mutual. So I avoided his hugs. This last time I was there I saw him as I headed to the car and I almost went back to talk for a moment, but didn't. I left. I saw him outside the office with his shopping basket full of stuff, waving to me as I left. I waved back.

I got a phone call from my parents with bad news the other day. Stony had died. He was at the store next door to the office, and he said to the owner (who also would hire him to do odds and ends), "I don't feel so good." So the owner told him maybe he should sit down and rest for a bit. "No," he said, "I need to get going." Stony walked outside and someone found him a little while later lying dead out front. Perhaps his heart gave out. No one knew. No one cared enough to pay for an autopsy. He had no family and only a handful of people who knew him here and there. Everyone took care of Stony in some manner, and Stony took care of everyone in his own ways, cleaning or fixing things, but never again would he walk through that office door for five measly dollars.

My parents and I talked about times we remembered about Stony. I recalled the time he was drunk and came into the office and wanted money, but he was not in shape to work, plus he had already gotten paid that week's worth. He pulled out his switchblade and showed us how fast he was at drawing it open. I could see the fear in my dad's eyes that day because a drunk man asking for money while pulling a knife out was probably not a good combination. My dad gave him $5 to get rid of him. That was the worst I had ever seen him, and he never actually threatened anyone. It was just an odd situation, of which I never flinched. I pretended it did not scare me either, although it did. I guess I don't trust drunk people with knives flashing about.

Another time my dad remembered was when someone gave Stony a huge bag of canned food, all corn. He came by the office and told my dad, "I've been eating corn three times a day. I'm glad to have the food, but boy will I be glad when this corn is gone. I don't want to see corn for a long time." We chuckled, but inside I was cringing that none of us made more effort to ensure Stony had better food. Was it our responsibility? We did what we could. I remember sharing our tamales with him. My mom always gave him boxed food or pieces of food she had made and brought into the office. My dad even sent money to the funeral home to help pay for his cremation (we think it was a cremation anyway, based on the dollar amount of the bill that his friend came by and told my dad about--they were trying to raise money to help pay it). Everyone took care of Stony, and Stony took care of everyone.

So today I am sad that Stony is gone, but even more so because I had the chance to give Stony a huge hug, this last time I saw him, but did not. I even thought about it, and that I should treat him better, and not avoid him. It had been a couple of years since I had seen him, and I figured it could be another year or two before I saw him again. I should have hugged him goodbye. I should have hugged him long and hard, and told him how good it was to see him again, alive and well. Stony was never really well, but he was alive, and he loved people and loved life, even though he had problems.

I will never have that chance back to hug Stony. I can only move forward. Perhaps I will go visit my son's friend who is presently in a homeless shelter, who I have not seen for several months now. Perhaps it is time to go sit and talk with him again... and give him a big hug.

Monday, September 28, 2015


It is because we are three parts in one that I must make this change.
We are three parts in one person--body, mind, and spirit.
Body is the physical reality of our being.
Mind is the soul, or thinking and feeling and emotional and personality part of our being.
Spirit is the higher energy that was before, and will continue, beyond our birth and death.
Spirit is energy. No more, no less. It is the energy that follows the rules of being... the laws of nature.

"Energy can neither be created nor destroyed"
It merely changes forms, when we are conceived, and grow, and are birthed and live, and grow old and die.

Everything in between is filled with spirit (energy) of life, from quantum physics and dimensional realms, to inner nature and higher nature, collective consciousness and super-consciousness, sometimes an inner knowing that comes from somewhere else.

Everything in between is filled with soulical aspects of learning and feeling, sorrow and rejoicing, speaking and knowing, choosing and acting in deliberate ways, and grasping intuition.

Everything in between is filled with physical reality of pain and feeling healthy, feeding our bodies with nutrition for growth or starving ourselves, sex and touch, tasting and hearing, seeing and smelling, all senses taking in the physical world by our physical bodies.

But all of these three parts... the body, mind/soul, and spirit/energy... are one being.
When one is changed, the others are affected.
When having problems in one area, change another, and the rest will follow.
Everything is connected.
Nothing exists by itself.
The three are one... whether we think so or not, it works.
This is why I had the epiphany of dark and negative thoughts having two sources... the body, and the mind, for the spirit is light and is without error.
The body may be weakened by viruses or bacteria, causing illness, even mental illness, so science now establishes this. I read about this within two hours after having the epiphany, based on my own experiences and the pattern I saw.
Negative thoughts and old habits that feel out of your control may be a result of something that happened long ago, even in the womb, or childhood. Rehashing memories or habits dig the groove deeper. Meds may help, but will it solve it?
The other part is nature, soulical nature, that allows us to put mind over matter. Choice. Everything is a choice. Many times people have a breakdown before their choice is made, but once they choose, whether by their own will or not, things improve. Focus on spiritual first. Every morning. Every night. Keep yourself accountable. Pray or read or worship.
The mind will follow, and in time the body will repair itself.
This is why I must make the change in my own life.
This is why healing must be what was before "natural" for me to continue thoughts that are not right.
I noticed that when my thoughts went one direction, it would manifest in some way very soon afterwards... perhaps not in the way I wanted, but definitely the negative energy.
A virtual "spanking" made into a punishment of reality, of some sort or another.
Until I knew better and did it anyway, and the result was more severe than I could take.
So it brakes the will, and refocuses the desire.
The consequence is that my spirit will lead, my mind will embrace and manifest, and my body and life will follow.
It has to, for everything is connected.
We are not separate from our three parts.
We are made up of all of them, together.
Fix one, and you fix the rest.
It may take time, but be vigilant and improvements are inevitable.
Seek healing. Real healing. Believe it.
To overcome what was before, unattainable.

Friday, September 11, 2015


There is no greater feeling than love, and being in love, and being loved equally in return.
There is no greater curse than feeling love, and being in love when the love is not equally returned.

A whispered desire, like a flame that burns bright, is squelched in the night as words aloof rain down.
No one shall know this love, so deep and pure, the depths greater than the Marianas Trench, and its pressure and power like a crush, a sickness, an obsession...
No mind meld can suffice, no heart listened to intently, no adoration returned to fill the night.

Alone she goeth, alone she follows, alone she sleeps it off.
No one shall ever know her true touch, the places hidden as a wellspring...
Wasted in the days gone by, on men one at a time who never cared enough to know it.
And never will. No one will. It is impossible.

No greater feeling than love in a loop, cycling around between souls.
No greater curse than its potential never known.

It is hard to feel and yearn for things so intimate when it is lost in a shallow wading pool.
Incapable of depth, he roams simplistic, in fear of deep water.
Alone she dives, and finds no one at the bottom, but herself.

Monday, July 27, 2015


I speak, you disagree. I feel attacked and get defensive. We argue. The problem may not always be that I am wrong, but that you fear you are not right. It takes two to argue. Your disatisfaction with my arguing is merely a projection of your own inability to stop arguing. It takes two. I am only one person. I cannot remove your responsibility for the part you play.

Likewise, a plan for financial success is a huge process. While "owning an apartment building" is a lofty goal, it is only a goal... not a plan. A plan includes all the steps between A and Z to achieve that goal. If I don't have such a plan in place towards the same goal should I require you to pack your bags? Again, my lack of a solid plan is not my issue (I'm more flexible than that) or yours... your projection onto me of having no plan of your own is your problem. Your future is your responsibility, not mine.

Sorry that I add so little value to your life. Methinks projection is again afoot. And one wonders why I argue...

Sunday, June 14, 2015


I have built and sold and installed solar water distillers for years. It is a wonderful feeling to build something that can take nasty or polluted water and turn it into something absolutely pure and drinkable! So how do you build a solar water distiller?

Here are some tips on how it works...

First of all you want to understand how a solar water distiller, also called a solar still, actually runs. It is basically a wide and low-profile 'box' that has glass on top at a slightly sloped (about 10 degrees) angle. The bottom of this box inside will be black so as to absorb as much of the sun's rays as possible. The water is inserted through a side tube (you can use a water hose or gravity-fill using a bucket and tube) into a thin layer, maybe 1"-2" in depth.

As the sun heats up the water it will start to evaporate, and will begain condensing onto the cooler glass above, and then trickle down underneath the glass, draining into a 1" CPVC tube cut in half lengthwise, which acts as a water trough. The condensed/distilled water then drains out an exit tube into your water collection vessel (usually glass since plastic dioxins can be carcinogenic).

That's all there is to making solar distilled water!

However, making the box with food-safe materials is a MUST! There are different ways to do this. Plus the box needs to be insulated well so as to not lose heat. Basically, this is similar to a solar oven design, but holds water, and gets hot enough to burn you if you were to touch it. It does not boil--nor do you want it to boil since that is a forced method and tastes metalic and is acidic. Natural solar water distilled water is softer and alkaline, if not neutral in pH.

There are a lot of tricks to choosing materials, but items ranging from glass to solar kits that have special food-grade silicone manufactured liner are included. You can also use a food-grade silicone in the tubes (special order) and smear it onto the inside of the box yourself. Some people use high-grade stainless steel but this tends to be expensive and can pit/erode over time since distilled water has NOTHING in it, and absorbs whatever it touches.

I cover more details in my book below:

You can learn all about the layers and items needed (plus other solar projects!) in the full intro in my book:
Passive Solar Energy House Projects: A How-To Guide
Hard copy $15.00 / Electronic $9.99 (Kindle)

I no longer sell solar water distillers, however you can click on the links below to purchase them directly from the websites/companies:

Solaqua Solar still produces 1 1/2 gal/day for 1-2 people per still (no electricity, on-site, no running water necessary)

Suns-River stills produce 4x the amount of water than a passive still using the sun and an electric pump - these are excellent for communities

Flo-Onics Stills used to produce 100 gal/day to 250,000 gal/day for communities/groups/towns but last time I checked I think the company was defunked.

For solar water distiller construction plans you can obtain them through the El Paso Solar Energy Association or

Enjoy learning more and making your own solar water distiller!

Saturday, June 13, 2015


I've been seeing spiders lately, and human forms, but just in my peripheral vision. As soon as I look they disappear. It's a bit ominous, and sometimes I think the spiders are just random bugs.

Of course, my knowledge of shamanistic interpretation bellows in to say these are negative things, whereas my spiritual side insists these are positive things. You see, I have a love-hate relationship with bugs, spiders in particular.

This morning I had a dream of a black widow spider. It crawled down onto my hand and bit me (I'm still trying to remember which hand, but I think it may have been the right hand... no, maybe the left! LOL). But it was so shocking that it woke me up out of a sound sleep. Typically this type of scenario only happens when I have stopped breathing during sleep, due to sleep apnea.

The spider, then, is my messenger to wake up and start breathing again! So it is a warning, but a good omen in the end, because it keeps me alive and aware, and it serves the purpose it was intended for. I could become friends with the spider, but if I lost my disgust of their creepy little bodies with all 8 legs, then I would not have any fear of them and then the dreams would no longer be effective. It is in my best interest to keep the spiders as a sort of enemy, even if it's just for pretend.

So something else has been happening...

The human forms are new. I am not prone to seeing things, but I admit it has been a little unnerving. I wonder what the messenger is trying to tell me when it is shaped like a person? No real gender on this human, but maybe a man? So maybe it has to do with someone else.

Someone I know and love is in the hospital right now, with severe congestive heart failure and a bad valve and blocked artery. Surgery will be needed, if the doctors can get her strength back up to survive the surgery. Any arrhythmia and she could have a heart attack at any time. It's a bit scary. The figure I keep seeing may nor may not have anything to do with her, but the spider connection is there... I will explain...

So I was praying the other night for this person, and went into theta brainwave state, and saw a huge black spider on a web, but its legs were part of the web, it seemed, and it was all-encompassing. It was the mental image manifesting as a representation of the problem that is causing her health issue with her heart. It's a big one. It's black and scary. I am now thinking more and more that I need to pray again and see if something can be done, so that the birds of the spirit can pick away this spider and restore her health. That is my next focus.

It is such a strange thing to not only be bitten by a spider on my hand (deeds) but also to dream of others in similar fashion, overlapping... it is hard to know (especially with me having a similar heart murmur to hers) where her symbols start and where mine end, or where they overlap.

Let's pray that I find out sooner than later. Seeing spiders and forms is no easy matter when it is life and death.

Sunday, April 5, 2015


My love, it has taken me some time to understand you...
to grasp your moods without being touched by them so deeply...
to see your pain while witnessing the little boy you still are inside...
to understand your depth that you hide so well...
to kiss the lack of experience, yet still remain the most kissable of all lips, of all time...
to hear harsh words that stab the soul, and become stronger for it...
to be annoyed by grandiose dreams, which will never happen...
to listen to threats, which I know now will never fruit...
to think your love has ended, when you refuse to ever say it...
to know you are true, even though I doubted you...

My dear, it has taken me a great amount of time to understand you just this much...
and I will still need more time to understand the rest of you...
I hope time, we have.
I pray love, we will.