Blank Canvas

[another bob]

Posted by Arrowwind (here)

Posted by another bob (here)
"So you say," I grinned as I walked away – I still had work to do.

Ya, I know, nurses can be pretty weird...

Tell me about it, my ex-wife was a Labor & Delivery Nurse, though she always claimed I was the weird one. Come to think of it, she may have had a good point!






PS: I wanted to Thank you for your Hospice Service, and beautiful story too! Good Work, Sister!

[sleepy]

Aarowind,

I am so glad that you are sharing your written stories because they are very well written and beautiful stories.. Hospice workers are angels. My limited experience with the death of a loved one was not beautiful. How wonderful it is that you help make that difficult time easier for the dying and their family.

Fred, thanks again for the blank Canvas and a place where people feel safe and inspired to share

[Sebastion]

I have to say that anotherbob's post here and Ron's earlier post regarding facing your inner beast has had me thinking deeply the last day or two. Methinks Bob's statement about this being a war planet has tremendous merit. Knowing myself as I do, I don't think I could have made it back to this side of sanity if put in the same position as Blackheart, Nancy's husband.

Many times during my young and testosterone filled years, I listened to many men tell of what their wife's had put them through. I had no problem telling them that if it was me who was being put through that, well I would have to put my wife and her lover in their graves, no question and no doubt in my mind. Many times I said to myself and out loud to other men what I would do if confronted with similar circumstances and I was very sure about it, well that is until those circumstances actually happened to me.

As it turned out, I done the opposite of everything I always said I would do. Life has taught me over the long haul that sometimes we win by allowing ourselves to lose. Had I reacted violently in those moments, as the beast within me was wont to do desperately, I would have lost it all and my life as well in the process. It seems this is a war planet, designed to teach one how to tame the beast within you. It is only after the long haul that I have been able to recognize that, surprisingly so.

It seems in some respects, my life this time around was to get control and tame the beast. It has many faces and many guises and is a powerful aspect within humans, at least it has been that way for me and others I have known.

My thanks to Ron and anotherbob....

Posted by another bob (here)

Posted by Kiforall (here)
As I've posted this in 'blank canvas' I hope it does not offend anybody. It's more my intention to receive guidance on my spiritual path, which has just taken a couple of steps backwards.

Good inquiry, Thanks!

Let's face it -- humans have a hard time getting along, even in relatively harmless social situations. Add in the combustible elements of politics and religion, plus unprecendented global demographic change, and we have a sure recipe for conflict. Moreover, even the greatest peacemakers this realm has ever produced were essentially impotent when it came to pacifying their own followers, much less those with conflicting creeds.

This world is a war planet, there is no getting around that, and it is likely to remain so as long as folks invest in exclusive beliefs and separatist creeds. Our job here is not to make the place into a heaven realm, but more to understand where the root of the conflict lies, learn how to behave, and expunge greed, envy, intolerance, and hatred from our own hearts.

In doing so, it demonstrates that we have been paying attention and learned something, and so are prepared to graduate from kindergarden and expand out into a more mature curriculum.

Blessings!

[another bob]

The first radio show I remember hearing was The Shadow, circa 1951. Because radio shows required visualization based on memory association, my 3 year old imagination was inspired to add some emotionally-reactive interpretation to the echoing sound of a creaking door opening, accompanied by a voice of barely-contained and mounting mania expounding the ominous conclusion that "Only The Shadow knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men."

At about that point I lost interest in being scared witless and wandered off to contemplate this new experience of self-projected fearfulness in the comfort of the kitchen, where my Grandmother was baking something fragrant. The stress from the fear-poison in the body was felt as myself, so I must be the body. Being the body could include stressfulness, but the stress was also something I was adding to experience. That's about as far as I was willing to go with the inquiry for the time being. I didn't want to stay inside, in the shadows, since it was so sunny outdoors, and I was ready for some sky.


It took a few years until I felt up to confronting this fearfulness. I was about 6 or 7 years old, but somehow able to convince my parents to let me stay home alone while they went out for the afternoon with my siblings to do some shopping. I just felt like being alone, seeing what that was like.

I was watching some television show (we had just got our first TV), while the evening slowly crept up on me, like the San Francisco fog stealing in from the Bay, when it suddenly struck me that it was now pitch black night, and that I was in fact alone. My first reaction to this realization was to ease under the couch pillows with the remnants of my potato chip bag and wait it out. This seemed like the best strategy, until I heard a loud noise in the basement.

I tip-toed across the room, and then down that infinitely receding hallway to the door leading to the basement. I had never been in the basement by myself at night before – in fact, I don’t recall ever having been alone at night before that night, and certainly not with something potentially dangerous in the basement.

Now it seemed that I was compelled to open that door and investigate my fear, and it truly felt as if there was no option for me but to do just that. Moreover, something decided to up the ante, and have me go down the basement stairs without turning on the lights. I simply had to go right to the heart of the fear, descending into the pitch-black unknown, as a kind of test for myself – a test to see what would persist past my resistance, my fear.

I took one stair at a time, and with each step, the intensity of the foreboding grew, until it seemed as if I could go no further, so overwhelmed was I by the natural motive to fly right back up the stairs, slam the door, and scream my head off. But I didn’t. I just kept going, until I finally reached the cold damp floor of the basement, and realized I was shoeless.

Now things had become almost hallucinatory -- I was in total darkness, shivering uncontrollably, and movement further into the palpable darkness of that basement seemed to take forever. With each step, a little more of my courage was sapped away, until I finally found myself standing in the heart of that bardo, pressed in on all sides by the excruciating weight of all fear itself, and yet, I was not being harmed, I was fine, I had stood in the midst of my mind's own terror, and I was not obliterated.

The spasms of fear had wrung themselves out, and I was left just as I am. This was so interesting -- I just stopped and felt myself as unassailable beingness itself. All the terror had simply been a projection of my own mind, and the recognition of this fact seemed incredibly liberating. I felt a luxuriant warmth spread throughout my body, and a simultaneous deep relief.

I am not sure how much time had actually passed while I stood there, but I was shaken out of my trance by the loud noise of the garage door suddenly being flung up, and the headlights of my Dad’s Buick beaming in at me, flooding the room with battery-powered radiance.

My father jumped out of the car and ran to me with an incredulous look on his face, asking me what I was doing in my bare feet at night down in the dark basement.

I looked up and said, “I heard a sound. . . .”

[Jenci]

Posted by sleepy (here)


Fred, thanks again for the blank Canvas and a place where people feel safe and inspired to share

It's a safe place ....but with a warning in the OP from Fred which says
"If you're faint of heart and easily offended, please, this thread is not for you. So don't complain."

I'm not sure what you call that, lol, but I do see a lot of people moving out of their comfort zones here. Perhaps there is safety in numbers in doing that.

As individuals if we are to learn and grow, all aspects of ourselves need to be examined, including the dark side. Feeling that we are not alone in having that dark side can enable us to look honestly into it.

This is a great thread even though it has taken me ages to read. I'm usually a skim reader but these stories are not for skimming over.

Thanks all.

Jeanette

[Arrowwind]

In Native American tradition there is a ceremonial work called the Talking Stick. I have had opportunity to do the Talking Stick with indigenous Native Americans as well as a variety of groups who have taken on the Talking Stick process to bring a group into symmetry and balance, to do really heart to heart communication, to reveal our most inner places so that we may learn from one another in a beauty way. I have been involed in a Women's Talking Stick for some time now... We call ourselves "Sisterhood of the Traveling Talking Stick"

There are few rules to the Talking Stick but they are important guidelines.

When you have the stick you speak from your heart.
When you have the stick you are not to be interrupted by anyone for any reason.

When you receive the stick and it is your time to talk it is not your place to make criticisim of what the speakers before you said.
It is only your place to accept where their heart is at that point in time and to ony express your own heart.

The Talking Stick is not a place of judgement, criticism, arguement, putdown.
It is a place of support, encouragement, understanding and acceptance.
It is not necessary to verbalize support to another for merely being in the group is support
and continued respect is that support.

and lastly, what is said during a talking stick is not taken outside of the circle.

This Traditional Talking Stick has endured over centuries amongst many tribes across Turtle Island
It is a way to counsil and to speak ones truth, to inform others of your inner heart on any topic.
It has been used to resolve many types of conflict as well as to create new ways of being for a group

So far we have been sharing our relfections of life through writing... and of course writing will be the main way and means on this type of format. Let us respect all writing here for being what it is in the moment. Let us realize that it is only a snapshot in time of one persons experience in life and reflection. Let us realize that we dont have to criticize , we dont have to judge, we dont have to pick things apart for accuracy, spelling, syntax, truth, honesty, morality, dogma, philosophy.

Blank Canvas can go any which way we want it to go. We have many places to argue, confront, criticize, judge, and put down on this forum... but we have had nothing like this.

Someone said to me today - "The longest journey there is is between your head and your heart".

[sirdipswitch]

I was 11 years old, we lived on a farm, and next to it was a Cemetery. For some reason, my parents enjoyed walking through it in the evenings, in the summertime. We ha da big Family BBQ, on a Saterday, with all of Mommas realatives, and there was a bunch. Probly about 25 or 30.

That evening we took the "walk", to have some fun, with a couple of Mommas cousins from Missouri, who were scared sh*tless, of Cemeteries. When finnaly back home, those two cousins, were talking about how brave they were, and us kids dared them to go over there now that it was dark. Well, their bravery changed rather quickly, and they said that none of us kids would go over there either, and then the challenges started. Everyone started challenging everyone else.

Then money started to hit the table. Mommas cousins, said they would each give Dollar, to whoever would go over there in the dark. My oldest cousin, who was 13, the same age as my big brother, who I had thought was the bravest thing on two, but refused to go, stated that he had started to peal an orange, and then put it back, and that whoever went, would have to go bring back that orange. The orange, was over on the other side of the Cemetery, in the Chinese section. (The Chinese, always put food on the graves of their lost love ones.hmm.)

The money on the table kept growing, and yet noone was brave enough to go over there for it. 10 Bucks, they said. everyone was still shaking their head no. I stepped up and quietly said that I would go bring back the orange. Everyone went nuts laughin over that one, untill 5 minutes later, when I put on my coat, and headed for the door. My aunt, Mommas sister, had 4 boys, the oldest of which was my big brothers age, the next was my age, then the two little ones, each two years apart under me. All six of us headed for the hole in the fence of the cemetery.

When we arrived at the hole, I didn't even stop. Just went right through and kept going. To stop and think about it, would have been instant defeat, and I had to do this. I had to show them "All", what little bobby was capable of. Little did I know, that it would be the longest walk of my entire life. cccccc. When I got back to the fence, onone was there, they were to scared to even stay there and wait for me.

When I walked it the house, with my orange held high, nobody said anything. I walked over and picked up my 10 bucks, and smiled. Momma, quietly said: "What took you so long?" I said: "I walked." My Mommas cousin, that had started it all, reached in his pocket, and came up with another 10 dollar bill, and handed it to me, saying: "You deserve this, for bravery, in the face of terror." Momma, had one of the biggest smiles, that I had ever seen on her face. She died, 6 months later.

[sleepy]

The Last Time

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."…William Congreve

As I stood before the Justice of the Peace, eighteen years old, pregnant, and thousands of miles from home, I was madly in love with my betrothed. Young love; it burns with passion and lacks all common sense. My first clue that there was big trouble in paradise was three days after my daughter was born and we were released from the hospital and waiting for my husband to pick us up. He never came. I managed to get a ride home and found him sick from an all night binger.

After a few months of being married, I realized that this wasn’t what I had signed up for and I spent more time leaving my drunken husband than I actually spent with him, but I always went back, until the last time. I had gone back to my hometown and lived with my mom for six months. I had a job and a car and I was settling in to my new life as single parent. My husband called almost daily begging me to come back with our daughter and be the family that we were supposed to be. That is what I wanted and I was so happy that he realized what he would lose if he didn’t stay out of the bars. He had missed his daughter’s first steps and her first birthday. I actually felt guilty about that.

So, I sold my car, quit my job and went back. He had moved us to a nicer apartment and was staying out of the bars and I had my happy family. He had to leave town almost every other weekend to pick up supplies for his job in a neighboring state. I would cook him meals that he would take with him and all of his favorite treats. I was happy, my daughter was happy and he was happy. I knew I made a good decision in giving it another shot. He had changed. I had a part time job, purchased a car, and was settling in to the life I wanted.

After about seven weeks of my newfound bliss, one day when he was out of town, I was dusting the top of the refrigerator and found the letters. Apparently, less than a week after I left him to go home to my mother, he had moved in with another woman. Every other weekend he was not driving out of town but spending the weekend with her. I always wondered if she enjoyed my cooking as much as she enjoyed my husband. He was due back home in about an hour. I stewed and the rage grew. I packed up my daughter’s clothes and my clothes and loaded my car. I was going to be gone before he came home. As I was putting my daughter in her car seat, he pulled into the parking lot in his van.

My intentions truly were to just drive off into the sunset but that is not what happened. As he stepped out of the van and came towards me, I picked up a large rock. It was heavy. He was a good distance from me but I threw it with everything I had and I aimed for his head. Gravity did what gravity does and the rock hit him where the infidelity started. He was bent over in agony and I got in my car and backed out of my parking spot. My intentions were to ride off into the sunset but again, that is not what happened. I do not remember making a conscious decision to do what I did next. I would never put my child in danger but on that day I did. Instead of just driving off I drove right into the middle of his van crumpling the doors and smashing the front of my car. Then, I backed up and drove off into the sunset. I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

[another bob]

Posted by sleepy (here)
The Last Time

"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned / Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."…William Congreve..... I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

Strong story, Sleepy, and Thank You for sharing it! Realy appreciate you taking the effort to examine that part of your life here with us!

It seems that most of us are here for the purpose of self-discovery, to see what we are made of. This is what life's tests are comprised of, and as we get clear, we come to recognize that we ourselves are the authors of those tests.

The ego function is like a tool in this respect, in that it digs into the nooks and secret crannies of our being, to shine a telling light and reveal to us just what we are really all about, when push comes to shove, as it were, and then its purpose is fullfilled.

We will continue to be tested until the reason for the test is rendered obsolete, in the light of our own stable awareness and adaptation to the higher stages of our development.

Blessings!

[sleepy]

Another Bob,

At that time in my life, it really felt like my world was ending. I do believe that now....I know better.

[another bob]

Posted by sleepy (here)
Another Bob,

At that time in my life, it really felt like my world was ending. I do believe that now....I know better.

Happy to hear that you have moved past that, Sister!

One thing we find out as we evolve, and that's that there is always a new beginning that follows every ending, and this is true even up to and including death itself.

Thanks again for your courage!

Blessings!

[Jenci]

Posted by sleepy (here)
Instead of just driving off I drove right into the middle of his van crumpling the doors and smashing the front of my car. Then, I backed up and drove off into the sunset. I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

Perhaps this is what was exactly necessary for you to do to completely close the door on the relationship. If you hadn't of smashed him and his van, who knows, when the anger had subsided you may have considered going back there.

Many people do go back after this type of betrayal (like me) only to find it happens all over again.

Thanks for the story.

Jeanette

[Arrowwind]

Pure Karma and amazing drama. I really liked the gravity part! I can see a Ben Stiller, Cameron Diaz movie here!

[sleepy]

Posted by Jenci (here)

Posted by sleepy (here)
Instead of just driving off I drove right into the middle of his van crumpling the doors and smashing the front of my car. Then, I backed up and drove off into the sunset. I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

Perhaps this is what was exactly necessary for you to do to completely close the door on the relationship. If you hadn't of smashed him and his van, who knows, when the anger had subsided you may have considered going back there.

Many people do go back after this type of betrayal (like me) only to find it happens all over again.

Thanks for the story.

Jeanette

Jenci,

That could very well be true. Everything happened, as it needed to happen. I always said that I never got tired of leaving my husband but one day I got tired of going back to him. The truth is, that event sealed the deal. I had to return to the apartment to get my birth certificate and some other paperwork that I had forgotten and I took a policeman with me. I was scared of I what I was capable of doing and also of what he might do to me.

[NancyV]

Posted by Jenci (here)

Posted by sleepy (here)
Instead of just driving off I drove right into the middle of his van crumpling the doors and smashing the front of my car. Then, I backed up and drove off into the sunset. I am not normally a violent person but obviously, I can be. I was twenty years old at the time of this incident and I would like to think that with age and wisdom comes more self-control. I hope this theory is never tested.

Perhaps this is what was exactly necessary for you to do to completely close the door on the relationship. If you hadn't of smashed him and his van, who knows, when the anger had subsided you may have considered going back there.

Many people do go back after this type of betrayal (like me) only to find it happens all over again.

Thanks for the story.

Jeanette

It really does usually happen all over again! LOL... It took me many years to learn that you probably won't be changing a husband or lover to conform to what you want them to be, and if they have violent tendencies it will be difficult for them to quit that behavior. Even when I learned that lesson I still had a hard time totally disengaging from a husband or lover, especially when they always begged for forgiveness and for me to come back. I've only had one physically violent boyfriend and he ended up breaking my jaw. He got so pissed for breaking my jaw he then slammed the phone onto his hand and ended up breaking two of his fingers! LOL... I have a photo of us with me smiling with my jaw wired shut and him holding up his two bandaged/broken fingers. After leaving him at least 7 times I finally had to completely stop talking to him so I wouldn't be talked into giving him just "one more chance".

I look back on having my jaw wired shut and think what a perfect message that was. I was a rather verbal type person and I think the message was "just shut the F*CK up for a while and do some listening and thinking!" I actually enjoyed having my mouth wired shut for 6 weeks and I have to admit it was rather funny. LOL

My first husband, whom I married when I was 18 and he was 24, stayed a friend long after we separated and we occasionally lived together just as friends. His main challenge was that he couldn't stay away from other women, so I decided that was not acceptable to me after actually trying to deal with it...and we became just friends. I also supported him for a couple of years since I had more money at that time. He asked me to try again as husband and wife at least 5 times and the last time was a couple of years after we had more or less separated. Even then I felt badly saying no!

My 2nd husband and I were best man and lady for my first husband's marriage to his 3rd wife. I had been his 2nd wife. It was the 2nd marriage for both my 2nd husband and for me and I left him after 16 years. Then when I left my 3rd husband, to whom I was married for only a year, my 2nd husband fully expected that I would return to him. I was greatly tempted because he was a fantastic father to our 2 children and a wonderfully nice man, but I really didn't want to live with someone the rest of my life who had always been more like a brother. We are still friends to this day and he calls me every once in a while.

About 6 months after I divorced my 3rd husband who was a wealthy Jewish stockbroker, he started begging me to marry him again and said he would change. I was starting to consider it seriously as he really needed me (or someone). His health was pretty bad at that time from a stroke and he did not recover well from it. I finally told him I might remarry him, although one of my best friends who had been his 2nd wife, told me that it would be a horrible mistake. She had lasted with him for 7 years although she knew after 1 year that he was a master manipulator who used his money to buy people. It was pretty sickening to watch after I married him. I did not know from the previous 3 years of being casual friends with him that one of his major games was to get people in debt to him so he could manipulate them.

Well, I made the decision that I probably should go back to take care of him and we had a date one night where I was going to tell him that I was willing to give it a try again. So I drove up to his house high on a hill overlooking the Rogue Valley in Ashland, Oregon. It was a beautiful place and he had built me an Olympic sized swimming pool. I was somewhat of a swimming fanatic from when I swam competitively in my youth. When I went into the house I couldn't find him on the main floor so I went downstairs into the huge room which was a full on gym with a sauna and all kinds of equipment. He loved to exercise and I figured he was working out. He wasn't there or in the Sauna. I started feeling a strong foreboding and knew that something was wrong. As I walked outside to the pool I pretty much knew what I would find...and there he was, floating face down in the pool. I jumped in and immediately tried some mouth to mouth, but then I looked at his face. He had turned sort of purple and I knew he was gone.

I couldn't pull him out of the pool after trying several times, so I stayed in for a while and I was cussing him and god...and crying. Then after a while of just talking to him and telling him that it was all okay now... I pulled myself together and went into the house, took my wet clothes off and put them in the dryer since I had no other clothes there. I put my emotions completely on hold so I could do what needed to be done, starting with calling the police after putting my semi dry clothes back on. Then I got together phone numbers for his children. The police and an ambulance arrived and I was still emotionless while telling them what had happened. Then I called everyone I needed to call, went home and took that night to totally fall apart. The next day I was fine, but with a HUGE hangover since I drank myself into oblivion... and regained my perspective. I knew he was better off now and probably having fun wherever he had gone.

The only small challenge I had after his death was that his children told the police that I had probably killed him for his money! LOL... That, of course, was ludicrous as I hadn't yet remarried him and took almost nothing when I divorced him. In fact I made HIM sign a prenuptial agreement since I didn't want his adult children to feel threatened by the thought of me trying to take their rightful inheritance. He didn't want to sign it and said to hell with his kids, but I didn't want their hostile energy being sent to me, so he gave in and signed it. I had to be interviewed by the police but after I explained the reality that I had no motive and was actually planning to remarry him, they realized right away that killing him would totally defeat an actual gold digger motive.

Then a bit less than a year later I met my soul mate, my present husband of 17 years! I do still love and appreciate my previous husbands and lovers, but having a twin flame/soul mate is beyond any normal love. I have so much enjoyed life and feel like I've done and learned most of what I planned for this lifetime. I could be wrong! LOL... So I'll stick around until my date with death arrives. I'm looking forward to THAT date! Then the fun increases and continues elsewhere!

First husband on left, second on Right and 4th below!

[Arrowwind]

oops.....

[another bob]

Posted by NancyV (here)
I have so much enjoyed life and feel like I've done and learned most of what I planned for this lifetime. I could be wrong! LOL... So I'll stick around until my date with death arrives.

Sister, I've got a feeling life has a lot more in store for you. In any case, you are going to have an abundance of cool stories to share with the soul group over yonder, and I bet you'll have them in stitches to boot!

You've gone right out and grabbed the gusto with both hands, and good for you! To completely and unreservedly throw oneself into the objective world is what the soul really wants to do here, but many get cold feet when they find that the illusion can bite back. LOL!

Blessings!

[sleepy]

Posted by NancyV (here)
I have so much enjoyed life and feel like I've done and learned most of what I planned for this lifetime. I could be wrong! LOL... So I'll stick around until my date with death arrives.

You sure have!
Wow!
Thanks for the story!

[Arrowwind]

Meeting David Monongye Heart to Heart

I met Grandfather David Monongye, a Hopi Elder, aged 115 at the time, in Santa Fe. Grandfather was a Kikmongwi of Hotevilla, a traditional leader, selected to reveal Hopi prophecy to the world after the nuclear war holocaust in Japan during World War II. His intent was to educate all peoples about the prophecy and the issues revolving around the end of the fourth world and the beginning of the fifth. He was speaking about the earth changes to come and the predicted fall of our current culture. Like a wisp of wind his stature was slight, worn by his years and with his vision long gone he had to be guided on and off the stage by a family member.

After the lecture, in the large front foyer of the conference hall, I saw him standing in the corner with some of his family. He was not facing me. He suddenly turned around and looked at me directly. I was way on the other side of the room standing alone, curious but maintaining respect by my distance.

He beamed at me with a smile broad and wide. Suddenly, I, almost like in a trance, started to walk towards him. He held his arms out to receive me as I reached mid room. When I got to him I could clearly see that his eyes were not focused on mine, and they appeared like those of any blind person, yet somehow looking at me. When I finally got close enough he reached out with his hands searching for mine in the air and then latched on to them and shook vigorously. His smile seemed to widen even more. No words were said yet it was a very amazing experience. It was like we were bathed in light and understanding. Like two souls recognizing each other, unrestrained by social convention or material interests. After a few moments we parted and he turned around and started interacting again with the people he was with and I walked away feeling as if I had been touched by the great spirit.

Priest of the Hopi with His Great Grandchild.












For a video film clip of Grandfather David in 1971 visit:
https://diva.sfsu.edu/collections/sfbatv/bundles/187815

[Fred Steeves]

Funny I was encouraged to share the old "skydiving story", as just last week I was going down memory lane a bit, and thinking about my first skydive instructor from back in the day, trying to find some further information about him on the net that I may not have known before. His name was Santos Matos, and to this day, he is one of the most impressive people I've ever met. 20 year plus veteran of Army Special Forces, Rangers, Vietnam vet, Granada, on and on and on. All his buddies were Marine Recon, Golden Knights type guys, so it was quite something to hang out with them on week-ends. I'll tell you the rest about Santos at the end, but first the story.

This is in 1991, and me and my good buddy at the time Dave had quite unexpectadly gotten into skydiving. The mere thought had always terrified me. With some people however, if you do it once, you're hooked. They're known as adrenaline junkies, and that was most certainly us. At $100 per student jump with Santos, we saved our money to head out there about once a month. In the program, AFF(Accelerated Free Fall) Level 7 is the final jump a student performs jumping with the jump master. Pass the required maneuvers in free fall, and you're on your own. You also save a lot of money after that, only $15 dollars per jump from 13,500 feet. It's a big big deal, graduation day.

The big day came, graduation day. Dave and I were all kinds of jacked up on the hour drive to the drop zone. Dave did his first, and after he landed, I could tell just by the way he was walking and beaming he had passed. High fives and all. He was now an official skydiver. So then it was my turn.

The exit was normal, Santos and I were close together like normal, and I now had 60 seconds to perform moving forward, backward, right turn, left turn, then ending with a flip. Well something happened, I'll never know what for sure, but I started a turn, and then kept on turning, and turning, and turning, faster and faster and faster. Before I knew what was happening, I was totally out of control, still spinning faster and faster, and the centrifugal force was getting such that my arms and legs were splayed out like I was being drawn and quartered.

It's incredible how quickly things can go terribly wrong in this sport, and my bright and sunny summer day of celebration, had just instantly turned into my worst nightmare. That was when I gave up, watching the Earth spinning ever bigger in my sight, and knowing I was going to bounce in about 30 seconds or so. That was when "the calm" came in, that almost humorous conversation I had with myself. "So this is it Fred, this is how it ends, who would have ever thunk it...It's o.k. though, leave it you to go out like this. Just hopefully it's not too messy(LOL)"

And that was when a different voice entered, and said: "Why don't you just pull the rip cord while you're still spinning dumbass!" "Oh" I thought. (Duh) It wasn't at all easy though. It took every bit of strength I had to overcome the centrifugal force of the violent spin, and to get my right arm in enough to finally pull. Pull I did though, and next thing you know all was quiet, and all was well, save for line twists going almost all the way up to the canopy, which gave me quite the opposite spin unwinding the other way. But wow, I was alive. Amazing!

Needless to say my young man's ego was crushed, and I felt thoroughly humiliated upon landing and gathering up the chute, as my buddy Dave came running over, arm raised for the big high five, saying: "Well, did you pass?"

I did eventually pass, and have some fantastic adventures, but that wouldn't be for another 3-4 years, when I was in the Navy. Of course I also had to start the student program all over from scratch by that point.

Back to Santos. Not too long after this incident, I was heading out one morning to try a jump with him again. There was no one in the world more competent, and safer to jump with, than Santos Matos, with all his experience, combined with over 8,500 jumps. Storm clouds were all over however, and I turned back half way, thinking oh well, next weekend then. Well, there wouldn't be a next weekend. Santos was killed that morning, along with his first time tandem student. Nothing at all ever opened, and they impacted the ground together at roughly 200 mph. It was messy...

This is a link with a good picture of Santos, and a brief bio.
http://www.para-commandos.com/MatosS.htm

Here's a couple pictures of me at the time, both of course in the same rig I wore that day.

Cheers,
Fred