As we previously co-wrote in NaPoWriMo 2014, the virtual wannabes,
Buzz, Kong, Lip, Job and Nerd send their best, wishing us Godspeed
toward living happily, wealthily and wisely; or, alternatively, that ‘we’ …
as per Spock … “live long and prosper” … in deed.

‘Prosper’, perhaps more than any other word, encapsulates The Council’s message
to humanity. It is in prospering wherein
we may find music sufficiently soothing to calm the savage beast sages
say, in us resides … somewhere … waiting.

Kong more personally than the rest of the Crew, knows of savagery (and bravery)
like few others; and of forgiveness. Buzz’s an expert
on cynicism, and mercy. Lip’s a library on fatalism and banality;
Job, fecklessness; Nerd … unity … apart.

Perhaps the very need for a creative, paradigm-shattering solution to
mankind’s woes was what restored life-sustaining purpose to
the six humbled creatures of His creation whom, by mysterious invitation to
each … dreamed of humanity … and its due.

After all, one of the apparently few things we collectively know is that He
works in mysterious ways, sometimes via dreams. He
does as He will. We oft do too. But nothing’s about us. Everything’s about Him. He
surely made all for Himself … not for thee.

Such might yet be; for while it’s wise to consider life’s vagaries … it is wiser still,
wherever life is short, to duly consider life’s
probabilities in pragmatic conjunction with possibilities. Instill skills;
drill skills; mold wills; will ways … to best mute … strife.

Instilling skills, molding wills and willing, a sounder, saner and less bloody way to
not merely coexist, but moreover, cooperate
with extended families, is a noble purpose. Consciously evolving to
a new Way … prolongs our stay …. Confederate!

For just as brute strength, actually, if not necessarily, begrudgingly gave
way to, artificial, nation states, nation states, too, must,
accordingly, albeit begrudgingly, go, one way or another … to their graves.
One state best behooves those whom are … but dust.

Best and worst times revisited beg our disenchanted youth to read between the lines
of clear handwriting on walls. From Berlin to China, be
not fooled; governments dupe societies. But forgers of destinies may yet undermine
old boys clubs everywhere, where wannabes …

… do act posthaste. “When the shit hits the fan,” is a less than subtle representation
of the doom due mankind when it reaps what it has sown.
It may mark when seven billion souls vainly cover their asses and noses; a vision
of dire doses … when too late … to atone.

Already taken as an introductory sentence, Charles Dickens’ classic, “They were
the best of times, they were the worst of times.”, would have been
suitable also because, of these days too, it may well be said that they were,
and are, the best … and worst of times … akin.

The universality of his words makes the times of every generation kin.
Modern times, however, with their unprecedented
conveniences, menaces and copious amounts of sin, gin, and aspirin
call for prescience … unprecedented.

Were we merely facing dire challenges such as carbon emissions, global warming
and rising sea levels, science’s demonstrated
reliability might effectively intercede. But the problems we’re facing
are manifold … and multi-faceted.

Animate and/or inanimate marauders from outer space, cataclysm-causing
pressures of innermost space and hunger, poverty,
disease, ignorance, and constant politico-religious back-biting bickering
on Earth’s surface … bode reprised … anarchy.

Peace and prosperity through cybernetic education; a surreally real possibility,
albeit not, a probability. It’s not just because traditional,
bookish education, far less visually representative, is so inherently
inferior. It’s also because … it’s viral.

Curiously natural that medical terminology attach to picture both the fundamental
nature and the sundry ailments of developing technology;
for while ‘going viral’ is well regarded, viral infections, are much dreaded. All
in all … matters … begging security.

Would that “What if …” be, for Art, a symbolic epitaph. The only worthwhile
vindication is in the salvation of one’s soul.
On that, the Big Three agree. It’s over temporal matters that we learn to revile.
Let’s start from scratch … to transcend to a whole.

Interrelated, and recurring themes, woven herein by poetic wannabes
are meant to, highlight errors, in ways, and to suggest,
that there is in fact a better Way, of building atop of, what others previously
built (not reinventing) … to do it best.

Consider then, the view, from Arthur’s mountaintop aerie, or alternatively,
(and better yet), view that privileged view, that only
a few have ever viewed. Spectacular is our white-wisped but blue, ‘milky
way’ ball, from space. You’re amongst … the lucky.

Wisdom’s prism is revelatory. God’s Scriptures, the stories of peoples and prophets,
and man’s sum knowledge, through his books, may conjunctively
relegate red-herring controversies to their place; academic debate. Profit
then. Heavens, flora, and fauna make easy …

… decisions not to foolishly doubt, as does the agnostic; or even worse, deny,
as the atheist. The Sexy Six wonder (who then
when the shit hits the fan), of those who reconsider and recant at the end, rely
on His loving, forgiving nature … then?

It’s not then yet. Doubt and denials may be remedied. People must not be decried
for their beliefs, and pursuant conduct, if such deeds,
are particular to them, and leave neighbors harmless. Those who go awry
are to be, judged by Him … as so decreed.

It’s to everyman that the Council prays that the pluralistic spirit, that runs
through each of the Big Three, inspire that transcendence,
that from the bottom upward groundswell, whose ripple effect (maybe) … stuns
humanity, toward … such transcendence.

Thankfully, there are elements within each of the Big Three amenable
to such a conciliatory, reconciliatory,
evolution. A huge upheaval must trigger the groundswell whose ripple
effects diffuse secularly … through all humanity.

Electronically seizing the day, in truly big ways, before, on and after
the proposed Global Citizenship Day guarantees
that what happens thereafter, may be unlike that that could happen, were
we to proceed, on this course … so absurdly.

The pudding’s proof: A global stew, whose edibles boil over with regularity;
body-count-record-setting-societies
are prominently stewed in what’s euphemistically known as humanity,
or … international society.

Both terms, humanity, and, international society are, arguably,
misnomers, contradictions, in terms. For as to be,
human, begs humane, so society, begs cooperation and surely,
internationally, we’ll not soon be …

… other than we are, and internationally, that’s not, a society at all.
For calm, cool, culturally diverse, star-trekking crew
fantasies aside, a more likely reality than an inter-galactic call,
‘tween humans, is that efforts, past and new, …

… too, to encourage the peaceful co-existence amongst nations, cooperative,
gigs, and sustainable development, have surely
failed to forge, the radically reformed mindset, required of true, collaborative
peoples, of a global … community.

Rather, although we highly prize the trappings of success, and a vacuous veneer
of civilization, we’d do well, not to forget
our roots. That is to say that homo sapiens is the only species on this good, dear
earth, disgracefully, needing a net …

… a metaphysical one, within which to gather, not a dearth, but an atrocious
excess, of reasons to kill. Were it but for food and,
self defense, all for the better, but man kills moreover, for the reasons dubious
of patriotism, passion, revenge, and …

… greed; even indeed, for perverted pleasure. Add to the mix the disaffective roles
Machiavellianism and Malthusianism
have played. Consider also that Earth is perpetually stressed; its magnetic poles
fluctuate and flip, by a mechanism …

… mysteriously foreboding. Moreover, scant resources have the haves and have-nots
half nuts; the ever worsening plight of the have-nots
and crushing economic pressure on both haves and have-nots alike promises lots
of conflict … between the haves … and the nots.

G. Santayana said “Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”
Strife between the haves and the have-nots is history
in a nutshell. Learning-impaired humanity has been constantly repeating, its
story, since Cain slew Abel … verily.

Art’s cybernetic letters found blind eyes, deaf ears and distracted, preoccupied,
and flaccid minds; a grand plan, by wan indifference,
vanquished. A dream crushed may nonetheless, develop and envelop; events symbolize
nature’s mix, of timing … and ambience.

Cycles are the cornerstones of the universe. The ebb and flow between balance and
imbalance are the cornerstones of civilizations.
The new toolbox that too few now own shan’t realize its potential unless and
until, all share … in its utilization.

If history teaches us anything, it is that whatever goes up, must surely
come down. Beginnings and ends … followed by renewed,
beginnings and ends. The wise man knows this and acts accordingly and reasonably.
Not to act upon what’s been duly learned …

… fosters imbalance. It’s a sure sign of the impending fall, of what’s up and
a cycle’s impending end. Sapients ought,
if sufficiently knowledgeable, and objective, be able to alter course, and
re-chart, a new one, if not to be caught …

… with pants … down. What might we accomplish if we cast off our blinders,
and peer beyond, the paradigm matrices
that constrain us? What force we’d muster, if we’d focus our intellectual power,
better? Tap then into … His untapped, resources.

Tapping into scriptural resources reveals their consistently pluralistic
messages. So doing casts off blinders; so doing
permits peering past constraining paradigm matrices; so doing calls for their holistic
expansion, and doing … is believing.

Dreams that subsist through to development are, accordingly, as incomprehensible
mixes, of past and present, glorious testament,
to His Majesty. And so, intermittently, Arthur drank corrosives; and when able,
in bursting fits, with friends … did testament.

For Art, the intestate layman turned lawyer, turned lush, turned lyrical philosopher,
learned, invaluable truths, not in school … but asleep.
In an otherworldly realm between life and death, answered was Arthur’s plaintive prayer:
What if, from “what if” … rich harvests … we reap?

Would that such words be, for Art, a symbolic epitaph. The only worthwhile
vindication is in the salvation of one’s soul.
On that, the Big Three agree. It’s over temporal matters, that we learn to revile.
Let’s start from scratch, to transcend … to a whole.

Recapping, Art’s big idea nutshelled was to, by rhyme-less prose letters to two children
(Ussammah and Dubbya), and with “carbon” copies to,
many, mimic Nelson’s Commission, utilize an abundant resource, our children,
and a cheap and handy tool, e-mail to …

… illume with revelatory spotlights first Puerto Rican lands, then middle eastern lands,
then subsequent lands to, at long last, give peace
a fighting chance to be more than a pipe dream. Even if we’re destined to never band
together like insects, we ought at least …

… struggle to do so. After all, all of life itself is a jihad, a struggle, be
it a lone sperm’s lonely quest, to be the first, and last
to cross a threshold, or a mouth’s last gasp for air. But the bee’s reason to be
empowers ours …. To know hence, ask … “What’s passed?”

Sir Hawking, astrophysicist, posits that in dynamics ‘tween past and present, we
may reveal clues, to accurately predict futures.
Thanks to Hawking and Breton and the illustrious before them, The Council agree
we need to chart … a wiser future.

In his A Brief History of Time, his relatively enlightened mind eloquently
frames questions that, if ever answered, would allow us
to “… know the mind of God.” Heady stuff! If only injections of wisdom already
were available. In lieu thereof … be assiduous.

And passionate; the Council defers to genius but know that those preceding him laid
a foundation, upon which those who came later, built
further upon. Galileo, Newton, Einstein and peers so blessed, accommodated
observations, to theories, linked … and morphed.

Resultant revelations have been nothing, if not magnificently, mind-blowing.
‘Twas not so long ago that scientists avoided,
like the plague, for various reasons, even the merest mention of deity, in
their work. These days … we’re more open-minded.

More or less; for legion are those who derisively scoff and mock those who entertain
the Creator’s role, in all of His vast creation.
Albert Einstein was enigmatic in this regard. A religious boy, he remained
spiritual, in but … abstraction.

He ridiculed, as “naïve,” the “feeble souls”, with faith in an anthropomorphic God,
opting for Spinoza’s god, not a personal God.
When then, uncertainty, certainly imposed unpredictability on us, God,
may have smiled, or laughed out loud …. Thank you, God!

For if He but smiled when Heisenberg reaffirmed our limitations, Heaven’s laughter
was heard, when Albert huffed, “God does not play dice.” Truly,
God’s, morality play’s plot was then, undeniably thickened. For science offers
proofs, faith, belief; one, doubt … one, certainty.

Such certainty is not belied by the polyglot of languages, the plethora of religions,
sects, cults, and cultures and the smattering of races,
distinguishing, this utterly confusing existence. The globe’s Balkanization
challenges us … to do an about-face.

And an abrupt about-face at that; Art, sensing as much when with heavy heart he wrote
to a killer, calling him brother to appeal to,
his conscience pleaded for him to reconsider, send his fighters home to live and vote,
not vainly stay, to fight, kill … and die too.

What dynamic ties a convulsive world, a weary US, and a surreal Puerto Rico
together? In ‘Miracles,’ as in ‘Animal Farm’, thoughtfully communicative
critters, are plot devices; they well show … we’re our own worst foe.
To fix our fix … we’ll need be … unusually creative.

Marx, Lenin, Trotsky and Stalin turned out to be principals amongst George
Orwell’s animal characters. However, any similarity those
and these share stops there though. Chachomanopapa’s beastly proxies forge
destinies. Orwell’s destroyed … those opposed.

Arguably, Art’s own people have been, against themselves, a formidable foe;
too many, ever afraid of change, opt not to molt,
effectively remaining, colonized. War-bootied, loose-fitting Yankee clothes
now co-opt … tightly fitted … Spanish yokes.

But nail-studded colonial boots are oppressively heavy whether they are worn in
apparent beneficence … or rapaciously.
More than half of a millennium has passed. A millennium awaits. In
Almighty God we trust … belatedly.

The weak and the persecuted, representing all others by whatsoever means
humbled; a plethora of doxastic religions
belittled by actions and branded by omissions to act within their means;
legions of prideful but shallow factions; …

… all those and more were to be found within the backgrounds of Council members,
those who preferred referring to themselves as the Sexy
Six, for short. The long and the short of it: It appears that The Council’s members
are … for humanity … an apt proxy.

As we previously co-wrote in the ‘Miracles’ Acknowledgements, the virtual wannabes,
Buzz, Kong, Lou, Job and Nerd send their best, wishing us Godspeed
toward living happily, wealthily and wisely; or, alternatively, that we,
as per Spock … “live long and prosper” … in deed.

‘Prosper’, perhaps more than any other word, encapsulates The Council’s message
to a humbled humanity. It is by prospering wherein
we might find music sufficiently soothing to calm the savage beast a sage
says … resides in us … somewhere … waiting.

Art asked God if he’d gone freaking mad? He’s asked about you too. Really,
who’s sane? Was only he loopy? Or, are all of you, too?
Mysteries across the ages are clues. Nazca; Urantia; Casee; really eerie
ancient lore … and much, much more; all … clues.

It’d all begun dreamily; later, precursor plans were unceremoniously
panned (albeit by inattention); such were the non-events
that gave way to Art’s asking God for a sure Way to a movement, invent. Easily,
in dreams, the Crew … came … and went.

Notwithstanding implausibility, the Crew knew exactly what to do, when to
do it, and how to do it. Art gaped, dumbfounded. “See, …”
they said, … “What you’ve done is good; for very good, expand it artfully, into
epic. Write something to forge … human destiny.”

New breed leaders must step up; courageous but pragmatic leaders that
realize this nation-state fixation is taking us down. Some
day hence, it won’t be sunny; blackened ground and gray skies contrast at
somber horizons …. Nuclear skies … blot … the sun.

Much is at stake. So much so that Allah/Jehovah/Yahweh’s Words inspired a dense
wino-child of His to show you God’s sense
of humor’s cool and laughter’s still the best medicine. Might the uncommon sense
of critters … open eyes … to common sense?

Chapter one proposes that Earthlings completely restructure the prevailing
international economic dynamic. Do
subsidize the provision of an intelligent device to everyone; broadly mining
ideas, is Job One … There’s no … re-do.

Spotlight clashes as per Chapter Three. Proceed as per Chapter Four at Godspeed
to be like bees in forging your manifest destinies.
Chapters Five through Nine picture the nation-states; a triumvirate last three
chapters … glimpse … what may be … our destiny.

Our Holy Scriptures, Rick’s book re our individual purposes, Tony’s
books on near instantaneous, positive changes in
conduct, Mandela’s example, a coop model, and a Zoo Crew’s dreamy story
on kinship … augur … we may act … akin.