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; black ground and gray skies contrasting at
somber horizons; nuclear skies … blotting … the sun.

Unprecedented capabilities may await what transcendental empowerment
offers. ‘Paradise Lost’ and ‘The Divine Comedy’
inspired this letter to all from Art and his Crew. Its call: for prescient
wisdom … and action … to forge destiny.

‘Miracles’ is intended to be more than just a howdy-doody to his brethren.
As ontology, it’s a self-help book. As sorry
apology, anecdotes from a co-author’s life are confessions
of gross ignorance … and … sad apologies …

… to all, especially those injured along Art’s tortuous and torturous way.
Furthermore, it purports to weave the Crew’s subjective
observations into contexts of world and cosmological history to lay
out a bigger picture than often we’ve …

… generally been able to appreciate, much less those generations that have
preceded us. The world is in a sense much smaller
and in a sense we know more than we ever have. Yet, we yet behave
in accord with the ways of forefathers …

… long gone. They and theirs, make it evident that we’re the legatees
of ever more aggressive and, moreover, horrific
conduct, set over ages of competing for a stranger’s or neighbors’ free
use of his water, his kill, his saltlick …

… his camp-fire, cave, women, children, slaves, pelts, horses, livestock,
tools, land, currency, gold, oil, ideas and more.
Conditioned to behave selfishly, we act accordingly. Yet we’re shocked
as successive generations’ box-scores …

… set lower standards for truth, tolerance, and social justice, furthering
us from His Grace. There’s little doubt to some we’re near done;
a cosmic train wreck just waiting to happen. Ever better equipping
ourselves to just reach out and touch someone …

… Ma Bell would’ve been so proud of us. Would that the Crew were
only literally referencing telephones and the plethora of devices
to appear these past two decades. But drones, lasers
and, not incidentally, reliable nuclear devices …

… permit cleanly remote, bloody physical contact with perceived
antagonists, placing her ad-line of reaching out
and touching someone in a ghastly new light. Like lemmings to the sea,
headlong, you blindly follow … round about …

… your leaders of every ilk; for all leadership is but illusorily real.
Sargon, Hammurabi, Vladimir and Barack share with all
the rest of us the human frailty of reactivity to a very great deal.
Thus it … and fickle circumstance ‘oft call …

… if your fate’s to die young, eke an existence, or succeed in life.
But whether it’s the loss of many innocent lives
such as at the Twin Towers, or the loss of a single life,
as when the Arch-Duke was assassinated, loss of lives …

… increasingly ripple far and wide, so any single event all by itself, or
more likely, a series of events or confluence of
events shall likely trigger a conflagration unlike any ever before
imagined … much less seen …. Trumpets above …

… shall eventually signal the righting of things. But we digress; for
eschatological scenarios are many,
unknowable, un-probative and not subject to scientific inquiry before
the real McCoy … besets us. Any …

… purported intervention at that late date may be but a fanning of flames.
Consider the increasingly illusoriness
of American presidential power. It has eroded since atomic shames
cast over Japan … a pall of darkness.

Little Boy and Fat Man evolved into their vastly more powerful hydrogen kin
and a new kind of clock was invented, a Doomsday
Clock. For all its movement, the 11 p.m. hour that’s never been
likely … shall ne’er be; nor may …

… be approached, notwithstanding close proximity to a twelve o’clock hour.
Humanity’s spacecraft nears and is drawn into
a black hole of its own making. Its inhabitants sense it but sense no power
to avert … a black hole … being … sucked into.

Hear us, silly Earthlings. Madness, that of people and nations alike, a zoo
of peoples, and His mysteries, crossing ages, are clues.
Nazcan lines, pyramids, ancient prophets et, al., mysteries all, clue you
to do, what a … homo sapiens’ … got to do.

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. Souls; Urantia; Casee; really eerie
ancient lore … and much, much more … all are … clues.

It’d all begun dreamily; later, precursor plans were unceremoniously
panned (albeit by inattention); such were the non-events
that led 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 … may blot … the sun.

Much is at stake. So much so that The Almighty’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. The uncommon sense
of critters … may open eyes … to common sense.

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

A failure to plan is a plan to fail. Essentially, absent a sound plan (whether or
not in the event of a calamity), humankind’s plan
by default is anarchy. More than a crying shame, it’s a damning indictment for
prolific planners; end games beg … sound plans.

Wouldn’t the Truth and Reconciliation Commission model that so ably so
transformed South Africa yet serve to task
peacemakers to bring about a similar transformation to the still woe-
begotten Middle East at long … long last?

Ivory-tower scholars easily stigmatize people of faith as naïve fools or
as gullible saps and a 666-tatooing
Anti-Christ as over the top fantasy. Yet, whom indeed would have believed, before
it actually happened, that gassing …

… burning and burying Jews would be preceded by tattoos to better and more oft
efficiently implement … The Final Solution?
Not learning from history’s lessons is but one of our fatal flaws. Bernie Madoff
prospered enough to pose … Ponzi’s solution.

A heart-breaking irony, with The Holocaust still freshly seared; that one of their own,
an equal opp economic rapist of all though,
fires passions anew, in sites far from where divisive descendant cousins (like their own
progenitors, long ago split by dough) …

… seem ever endlessly afterward still split by dough. For what is land, if not dough?
The killing there is constant. Again we ask:
Wouldn’t the Truth and Reconciliation Commission model that so near unbelievably so
transformed South Africa … yet serve to task …

… diplomats to bring about a similar transformation to this yet strife-ridden
part of the earth? The truth of the matter is that no
side is totally in the right nor totally in the wrong. The truth being hidden,
the rhetorical answer: YES … and NO!

Yes, because it can be; no, ’cause it likely, won’t be. South Africans showed that
it can be; our history augers that it won’t be.
Bottom-line: it can be, so, it may be. For while we’re addicted to violence, that
addictions can be kicked … we know … may be.

Disavowing hate and embracing love, the killing cousins may yet walk hand in hand
as per King’s dream. For bloodshed is akin to spilt milk.
Each (wo)man is God’s child, with inalienable rights. All resources, the dough-land’s
harvest, need be shared, to make rare, words … like bilk.

And if we can do it there, we can do it everywhere. So, it is up to you,
U.N., U.N. Take a cue from Arthur, a nobody
like everybody, who, inspired by mountain-movers, took from them, a cue;
writing Ussammah, like all, a nobody …

… become somebody, albeit by piling bodies, indiscriminately. Seven Koranic verses
were cited to discredit the killer Ussammah.
To Arthur’s chagrin, the result wasn’t peace, less grieving kinfolk and less hearses
but rather, grave issues, now facing … Obama.

In further analogy, the entire planet begs for security. In a world so fraught
with worry, what first aid is there, for a mankind … effete?
Scripture, might be an unequivocal answer, but it and all else that is taught,
confuses; that taught in schools; that taught … on streets.

What’s taught in uptown schools and on downtown streets is antithetical to Scriptural
teachings. So, sow what you know in your heart. What school in
the world slants not its teachings? Learn to love. Love to learn. What’s anti-pedagogical
(what’s school and street taught) ought not be … cool … and in.

Fundamental to the resolve you must mutually share to move toward the global
community ideal is duly understanding
that quantum leap sorts of unusual change ought often arise from bottom to top as well
as trickling downward … from top to landing.

A monumentally transcendent, paradigm-shattering, evolutionary
metamorphosis arising, like a great groundswell,
upward from the grassroots of the citizenry shall be a revolutionary
quantum leap. For many one-percenters … it shan’t sit well.

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. Victory …

… over history seems neither in the cards, nor in the stars. The story of Arthur’s
people is a case in point. Our plight is a strange one,
so like Alice in Wonderland that both The Strategy and The Plan were the author’s
scheme to see our struggle … at long last won.

More on enigmatic Puerto Rico in Chapter Eight. Suffice for now to accent
a disenfranchised people so peculiarly
placed, it’s become a spinning eddy, in the river of time. The fast rushing current
surges …. Spinning in place … Art came to be.

There’s where precursor halves of him become of his parents fused to become a person
such that if and when God ever googled for matches
between contrite alcoholic slackers and celestial pipe dreamers in disunion
with the powers that be … records matched.

More searches and matches followed as our Father only seemingly implausibly
drafted His own Dream Team, The Council, to timely tweak
us to chart a course less hypocritically in line with what’s been previously
revealed to those… whom for God … did so speak.

Peace be upon them. Certainly, no member of the Council may similarly speak.
Neither its Zoo Crew constituents, nor its human
one assert ever having heard, much less seen, the Creator; His Words they ever seek;
but so too do many folks … men … and … women.

Similarly, no one need hear nor see to know that in countless somewheres beyond three
dimensional physical reach, countless kin miserably
suffer in countless ways. We are all more or less locked into paradigm matrices,
cells … to which we have keys … to ourselves … free.

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.