DA
Monday, February 25, 2008
Friends...i went back to my house this morning. Or what is left of it.
This was nailed to the door. my dog stayed behind that night. he probably saved my life.
the research is safe and i have a lead on the book of history. A man by the name of Mark Kamensky or it might be spelled Kamenski. I have to run down some other leads, so i need help tracking down this guy. Whoever can help me, please do so. The contact I have said he lives in Las Vegas. -DA
Thursday, February 21, 2008
kara…I cannot tell you where I am, only that I’m out of danger. For now.
I got the images and information you emailed me. Was printing out when my dog sat at the front door, growling.
Thought the storm had spooked him, until I looked outside and saw a dark figure standing on the street. Long black coat, black hat, something in his hand. An ax, I think.
Staring. Just staring. The lightning lit his face when he looked up. Not a shred of flesh on it and black where his eyes should have been.
Black.
He tipped his hat, then came toward the house. Cleared half the distance to my door before I could get my legs to move. I got to the back door just as he pulverized the front.
I watched from the woods behind my house. I can only guess he ransacked it, searching. When I heard the roar from inside I ran.
That was 3:30 this morning and I’m still shaking.
I left it all behind. I had no choice. He’ll come again.
I believe you now. I need to think. Can’t possibly do this on our own.
DA
I got the images and information you emailed me. Was printing out when my dog sat at the front door, growling.
Thought the storm had spooked him, until I looked outside and saw a dark figure standing on the street. Long black coat, black hat, something in his hand. An ax, I think.
Staring. Just staring. The lightning lit his face when he looked up. Not a shred of flesh on it and black where his eyes should have been.
Black.
He tipped his hat, then came toward the house. Cleared half the distance to my door before I could get my legs to move. I got to the back door just as he pulverized the front.
I watched from the woods behind my house. I can only guess he ransacked it, searching. When I heard the roar from inside I ran.
That was 3:30 this morning and I’m still shaking.
I left it all behind. I had no choice. He’ll come again.
I believe you now. I need to think. Can’t possibly do this on our own.
DA
Friday, February 15, 2008
Just the Facts
A lead story in this morning’s news caught my eye. The question posed was, “Is Faith Necessary?” I couldn’t help but wonder how we got here. How, at some turn in the road, we became a generation of cynics addicted to the facts. Facts, facts, facts. Not that facts are bad. I am a scientist, so I am the first to admit their necessity and prominence in the human experience. They are the first mile marker in the journey toward all that is true.
But, facts are not enough. They have never been, and can only carry us so far before they lose their ability to speak. Facts can be true, and yet be just short of Truth.
Maybe that is what bothered me about the story, which I won’t go into. It assumed the two are opposed to each other and cannot exist together. Mutually exclusive.
I still ask the question myself, though I already know the answer. I answered it for myself many years ago. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and what I learned through it.
It was a study in human nature and the power of faith…and fact. I named it Project Showdown. The purpose of the study was to determine if 37 children living in an environment with no outside influence could develop a faith that could literally move mountains.
Twelve monks were installed as teachers, and the children were brought up with a vigorous curriculum that focused on writing. By age ten the students were capable of adult thinking and reasoning, but at an astonishing level.
Then something happened. Perhaps it would probably be more accurate to say that someone happened.
Marsuvees Black, a monk I hired who had a doubtful past. He disappeared without warning soon after I tried to rein him and his teachings in. He had retreated into the forbidden dungeons, to which place he soon lured one of the students. The boy began writing a story about a town called Paradise. The story opened the floodgates.
That’s when everything changed. Everything. What transpired afterward is the subject of debate, of course. Some say it was supernatural, others that the real story never came out.
But, the truth is, the facts could never go far enough in describing what happened in that monastery or in the town of Paradise. The answer lies on the other side of the facts, in the stories that were written in the Books.
The Books of History. Now, there is a fascinating subject. The “Genesis” of my own story, really. But, I’m getting ahead of myself since that is a discussion for another day. The point, my friends, is that the heart knows what the eyes cannot always see. Trust me, because my eyes have seen. So, trust them both--fact and faith--but know that faith knows the way better than his friend does.
DA
But, facts are not enough. They have never been, and can only carry us so far before they lose their ability to speak. Facts can be true, and yet be just short of Truth.
Maybe that is what bothered me about the story, which I won’t go into. It assumed the two are opposed to each other and cannot exist together. Mutually exclusive.
I still ask the question myself, though I already know the answer. I answered it for myself many years ago. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and what I learned through it.
It was a study in human nature and the power of faith…and fact. I named it Project Showdown. The purpose of the study was to determine if 37 children living in an environment with no outside influence could develop a faith that could literally move mountains.
Twelve monks were installed as teachers, and the children were brought up with a vigorous curriculum that focused on writing. By age ten the students were capable of adult thinking and reasoning, but at an astonishing level.
Then something happened. Perhaps it would probably be more accurate to say that someone happened.
Marsuvees Black, a monk I hired who had a doubtful past. He disappeared without warning soon after I tried to rein him and his teachings in. He had retreated into the forbidden dungeons, to which place he soon lured one of the students. The boy began writing a story about a town called Paradise. The story opened the floodgates.
That’s when everything changed. Everything. What transpired afterward is the subject of debate, of course. Some say it was supernatural, others that the real story never came out.
But, the truth is, the facts could never go far enough in describing what happened in that monastery or in the town of Paradise. The answer lies on the other side of the facts, in the stories that were written in the Books.
The Books of History. Now, there is a fascinating subject. The “Genesis” of my own story, really. But, I’m getting ahead of myself since that is a discussion for another day. The point, my friends, is that the heart knows what the eyes cannot always see. Trust me, because my eyes have seen. So, trust them both--fact and faith--but know that faith knows the way better than his friend does.
DA
Thursday, February 7, 2008
My son, Samuel, originally started this blog. It was really an attempt to drag his old man into the modern day world of mp3's, youtube and google. He didn't have to drag me very hard and I didn't scream...much. I've always been fascinated by the way technology intersects our lives and opens the world to us in new and sometimes startling ways. It's a window into the best, and worst, of us.
He never thought I would use it, but yesterday I decided it was time. Given recent events, I'm sure no one would blame me for procrastinating. But, it's time now. Time to share. Time to hope. Time to move forward.
I can only assume that someone will eventually read what I post. So, I hope to be as open as possible. After all, what comes from the heart, goes to the heart. Here is to the journey already begun and the steps ahead that I pray I'll be given. Cheers.
David Abraham
He never thought I would use it, but yesterday I decided it was time. Given recent events, I'm sure no one would blame me for procrastinating. But, it's time now. Time to share. Time to hope. Time to move forward.
I can only assume that someone will eventually read what I post. So, I hope to be as open as possible. After all, what comes from the heart, goes to the heart. Here is to the journey already begun and the steps ahead that I pray I'll be given. Cheers.
David Abraham
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