The compelling and fantastic figure embedded in men consciousness is a hero. The bravest of the brave, the ultimate performer, the one who sacrifices himself for the greater good, the one who preserves no matter how dangerous the challenge maybe, such are some of the many faces of the hero. Whatever shame and self-doubt a man might be carrying, the presence of the hero abides, as a trophy of quintessential manliness, anchored steadfast courage, helping him deepen his life. As a father, I was sad, and tired and ready to take my life, but I went to the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament, in Sacramento, California. And a little bird with a camera came to me and wisped in my ear and the wind blew my tears away, no longer fueling any sense of self shaming, inadequacy, or apathy. The body is an amazing gift, it is my temple and when I sleep and dream, I feel I am able to separate my soul from mv body and be in two places at once. In my three dimensional dreamscape, regardless of how bizarre the scenery and context may be, I am able to reach my son and comfort him when he requires me to be there, and it makes me feel like the protagonist in a film. I find myself in an alien World, one that I created. Sometimes I realize that I am dreaming, but when I see my son’s face, it all feels so real to me, and I wish I could just grab him and take him home with me, and protect him from harm. Knowing that I am really in human form, this seems like a sleeping state, but I know I am getting closer to him. He is fascinated by me, blown away by the beauty.

At first, my son keeps himself removed from my hypervivid, pulsing beauty that surrounds him, sticking to his role as a good young man, a boy who does not question what he is telepathically being told to do by his superiors. He looks at the World as a place to be saved and preserved, a place of peace, where everyone is comfortable and happy. And my son believes this reality will happen and we will be reunited. However, I worry for hum, and I watch him I see that he has been attacked, and that sometimes his balance is off. I have watched him almost walk into a moving bus, and actually saw him walk into a 165-year-old tree. He has fallen getting into bed, and I wonder why? I am just happy I am there to catch him, even if he does not remember. I am happy to be there for my son, and fend of his attackers, even if he does not know. Before too long, our reality, deeply interconnected, will be one where he recognizes me, and to keep him from being spoiled, I keep him in a tower, with no love. I do not want anyone touching him! To step into a more connected manhood requires that he is able to sense me, even if he does not know I am near, I know the hero in him has begun to surface. However, in his face I see a deep loss, more than intellectual recognition of having lost touch with something essential. I think he lost his soul, I do not know what he is anymore, but I know that I love him. Maybe it was taken from him? The more my son lets go of his old way of being, the more he is rooted in my reality that resonates with my very core, my love for him reaches depths that you could not imagine. I am talking life affirming steps towards him, I want him to trust me and know that I will not leave him. I see that my son is stepping deeper and fuller into his manhood, starting to embody a strength that is not cut off from me, and his heart is softening towards me. My connection to him is arising. He hears me speaking to him telling him to let go of the pain he feels and know that I am here to save him. My son has a highly sensitized aliveness and balance and deep connection with me.