A Short Story: The Legend of Sky Island Lodge.

Sky Island Lodge
Words and photo by F LoBuono

It was a miserable day, really. Raw and cold. Too damned cold for this late in April. The wind was blowing at a good clip out of the East and off the Hudson making it feel more like early March rather than late April. But I was so damned restless. I had enough of the crap they call television and needed to get the hell up, get the hell out, and walk. I eschewed my usual loop through the village and decided to challenge myself with a trek up the steep hills of the Palisades.

Serpentine, I wound up streets appropriately named Mountain, Terrace, and Highland. It's a pretty steep climb and my thighs were screaming from the exertion. My lungs filled with the cool air. The sound of the roaring Thruway traffic was gradually being replaced by the sweet music of the Spring birds. I was entering a different world. It was if the change in altitude was directly affecting my change in attitude. The higher I climbed, the more euphoric I became.

Higher and higher I climbed, eventually passing through the campus of Nyack College, a local Christian institution whose buildings dot the hillside. I was traveling on South Highland Ave., heading for the trail head at the end of the street and virtually at the top of the cliffs. Near the summit, I noticed an old, stone building standing sentinel on a plot of land with commanding views of the Village of Nyack and the Hudson River far below. The structure was abandoned, evidenced by the plywood covering the lower windows. However, it was reasonably well maintained and was not derelict. The property around the building was landscaped. The leaded glass windows on the second floor were not covered and most were swung wide open.  There was a hand-carved, wooden sign on the exterior that identified the structure as Sky Island Lodge.

I thought to myself, I love that name. Sky Island Lodge. Considering its location I couldn't think of any name that might be more appropriate. The building seemed to float on its property, truly like an island in the sky. I had also heard a local legend about the place. A wizard had once lived there. A shaman. A guru. A man of great power and influence. He was called Oom. Oom the Great. Oom the Omnipotent. It was a label hung on him in an effort to dismiss his accomplishments. But, once, his exploits dominated the news, not only locally but nationally, as well. His real name (at least what he called himself) was Dr. Pierre Bernard. He had studied the mysterious ways of the Far East and had mastered the techniques of Yoga.. His real origins and ultimate intentions were as mysterious as the spiritual ways he preached and practiced. But, in his day, his exploits were as well documented as the most famous people in America.

On this blustery, chilly, Spring day, I stood outside Sky Island Lodge and daydreamed at what strange magic might have once been conjured there. What obscure rituals were practiced by Oom's initiates? In my minds eye, I witnessed men and women, dressed in flowing robes, being led in exercise by the mysterious Oom. At one time, the Country's elite sought out the enigmatic Dr. Bernard for his unique approach to physical and spiritual well being. He saw them as inexorably linked. In this approach, he was well ahead of his time. Perhaps, the rest of the world was not ready to hear him.

As the Omnipotent Oom aged and faded, so did his fame and fortune. Eventually, his name and his legacy were largely lost to time. However, Sky Island Lodge remains for those who will tarry a moment and commune with the ghosts who's spirits can still be felt there. After a few moments, prompted by the chill wind biting my cheeks, I emerged from my trance, turned around and continued my journey back down the hill.


Authors note: Sky Island Lodge is a real place and is located on the campus of Nyack College. However, despite local legend, it was never part of Dr. Bernard's operation.

Today's MOZEN A Birthday Wish List 4/26/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

It's customary on one's birthday to make a wish for the future. Normally, we do this just before blowing out the candles on our birthday cakes. In order for it to come true, we are supposed to keep it a secret. Well, just for a change (LOL), I'm going to break with tradition, make mine public and not wait for the candles on the cake.

I wish for a more pure heart. I wish for knowledge tempered by wisdom. I wish for more patience. I wish to talk less and listen more. I wish to be more loving. I wish to be better at actually living what I preach. I wish to have more compassion. I wish to be a light to all around me. I wish for peace in the world and the eradication of hunger. I wish that I could make all of these things happen with a snap of my fingers. And, most importantly, I wish drivers would not tarry in the left lane. :)

Today's MOZEN, The Face of Hunger 4/21/2014

Words and photo by Stephen Abankwa*

A Short Story of My Life

I had a wonderful family and was living a wonderful life. My parents were not rich, but we were living well. My sister and I were not hungry and we had everything we needed. One fateful day, my parents were to travel from our place in the city of Accra, Ghana, to their village for a family occasion. We woke up that morning and we were happy together. When they were about to leave, they said to me, “take very good care of your younger sister”. You see, I have an elder brother, but he is an alcoholic and not responsible. So, when my parents are away, I take care of my younger sister, Christabel. I was 16 years-old at the time. My sister was 11. They gave me money to take care of the house and set off on their journey.

During the day, we got word that there was a terrible car accident and that my parents were involved. We were informed that my parents had lost their lives. I took the responsibility for calling all the members in our extended family to inform them about the sad news. My alcoholic brother was too busy drinking and wasn’t even aware of what had happened. My extended family had meetings to make preparations for the funeral and also set a date for the burial. The family also promised that afterwards, they would care for my sister and I and we would not want for anything. Little did we know that all the promises were just formalities to grace the day for my dead parents.

After about a month, all of the promised support from family members had stopped coming. This is where our struggles really began. My alcoholic brother simply ran away from his responsibilities as the eldest son. So, I had to take on all of the responsibility of caring for myself and my younger sister. We had to move out of the apartment we lived in when our parents where alive because our rent was due and I couldn't afford to pay it. Now, all we can afford is a dirty room in a filthy neighborhood. I was in secondary school studying to become a journalist, something I had always dreamed about. But, in order to earn enough for my sister and I to live on, I was forced to quit school to find work. My grandparents, in our ancestral village, were the only ones who were always there for us. But they can’t really help. They are old, sick and also jobless. In fact, I often have to send them money for their medications. I have pleaded with my aunts and uncles for help with no success. They always claim that they have their own troubles and, so, have nothing left to send. My sister and I are truly alone.

I am not lazy and will take any type of work. I have done jobs like cleaning for people, doing laundry, running errands, and washing cars in an effort to support myself and my sister. But work is difficult to find. Even when I do, the income is very little. In this country, hard work does not pay much. I was earning so little, there is hardly enough to even eat. If we get sick, I do not know if we will be able to afford to buy medicine. We are experiencing pains and my sister always cries of hunger. I am trying my best to endure the hunger pains but my sister cannot. It’s been 3 years and our situation is growing from bad to worse each day. Christabel cries every day “is God alive, who will help us”? And “what is the essence of life”?

Life, as it is said, is like a coin with two sides. One side can be sweet and the other side can be very bitter. Our side of the coin has been very bitter. Ghana, West Africa, is a country that has lots of remote towns and villages. Most of the people who live in the towns and villages suffer from poverty without getting any public assistance. There are no government programs to provide aid. We suffer from the same lack of concern. Hunger has become our main problem. And hunger is always present. I will clean gutters or peoples’ homes just to scrape enough money together to feed myself and my sister. Even then, the money that I earn is often not enough to feed both of us. So, I sometimes have to starve myself so that my sister may eat. The pain and the sleepless nights that I go through due to hunger is something that I don’t know how to explain. Because to this, I suffer from stomach pains believed to be caused by an ulcer. But we can’t go to hospital for proper medication when we are sick because we can’t afford medical bills. When we do eat, most of the foods we eat are starchy, just to sustain us. They are not nutritious, but filling. We then suffer ill health from the lack of nutritious foods. It becomes a vicious cycle.

Because of the hunger, things have become unbearable for us. The pain becomes so intense that I have even thought of ending my life.  But I won’t because I don’t know how my sister’s life would be if something should happen to me. And I don’t know how, without some source of help, it can possibly get better. All our dreams, aims and ambitions have become shuttered because there is no money for us to further our educations. My sister and I hope to become great people in future, but how? Where is the love and care to make our dreams become real? My dream is to be a journalist and my sister wants to be a fashion designer. But, under our current conditions, they are only dreams and so very far from reality.

I am not a beggar. I am a human being. I did not ask for this tragedy to befall my family.  I am a young man who has accepted responsibility for myself and my sister. But, we are alone. And the world is too big and too tough for me to do this totally alone. If my sister and I had the help and support that we needed, we would be able to go back to school and fulfill our dreams of the future. I am willing to make my own way and, with a little help, I will do what is necessary to accomplish this. As is said in America, I don’t need a hand-out. I need a hand up!

* edited by F LoBuono

Today's MOZEN, Easter 2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

Although a celebration of the most important tenet of the Christian faith, one needn't be a Christian or particularly religious to appreciate the significance of what this day represents for all of us. I know, I know. The Faithful will rail on me and say don't usurp our Holiday!! Well, I'm not. Please enjoy it with the fullness of your faith. What I am suggesting is that All good people of All faiths can rejoice in the promise of Spring and the rebirth it brings to everyone. From the ancient tails of the Sumerians to the Greek myth of Persephone, man has always celebrated the return of life to the earth. The days are longer and the sun is stronger. The world is new, young, and fresh. all things are possible again. We revel in the return of the light. The promise remains.

So, on this magnificent Easter Sunday Morn, rejoice in the return of the light. Be the light. Share the light. Peace my friends.

Today's MOZEN 4/18/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

It's a well known fact that I am not a religious person, certainly not in the traditional sense. I have often written about the difference between being religious and being spiritual. It would certainly be reasonable to call me spiritual. This means that, using a variety of sources, I explore deeply within my soul for the meaning of life without the restrictions imposed by subscribing to a single religion . To reach such an illusive goal, I believe one must seek this truth by searching wherever it might be found. So, although raised with a traditional Catholic background (I attended parochial school K-8 grades), as an adult I have immersed myself in the study of all those who, from the beginning of mankind, have shared the same passion for spiritual truth.

Despite the dizzying array of ritual and dogma associated with more traditional religions, I think that I may have found a common thread - the thing that unites all in common purpose: It is not the entity that is most important, but, rather, the WORD. All bringers of truth have this in common; the unshakable certainty that only LOVE will conquer HATE. And, if necessary, they are willing to die to prove it. In a sense, they die to show us that we still shall live. Now, what, exactly, that means is open to one's interpretation and belief system.

So, Good Friday has always had special meaning for me. Yes, some of it is inspired by my Catholic upbringing. But, it has gone far beyond what I learned in Catholic grammar school. It is a day of deep reflection. The WORD is being made FLESH in the truest sense. Jesus, The Christ, begins the final process to show us exactly how love will defeat hate. He allowed himself to be humiliated in the most cruel way, and suffer the most gruesome death to show us, all of us, that if we believe in love, there will be true salvation at the end. Now, here is where the religious vs. spiritual diametric comes into place. I cannot truly say that I believe in all the trappings of divinity. I am not prone to literal interpretation of scripture. But that is also not important to me. It does not change The Word. This is not Christian vs. Jew vs. Muslim vs. Hindu vs. Buddhist, etc. That is why I am most interested in is the message behind the act. What, exactly, have we been taught from this passion play enacted over two thousand years ago and still resonates with such fervor today? All should find something within our hearts on this, Good Friday. If, for you, it is truly a message from god, then so be it. Let it give you strength. But, I believe that there is message for people of all so-called faiths. The message needn't be for a one, single belief system. It is one that should transcend the boundaries of just a religious connotation. For me, it reinforces lessons I have always known and must continue to practice every day of my existence: resolve, fortitude, courage, passion, commitment, and, most importantly, transcendence through the overpowering force of love.

Today's MOZEN 4/16/2014

Photo: Jeff Widener/AP. Words: F LoBuono

When I was a kid, I played a lot of football. I loved the challenge. It was physical and it was difficult. The more physical and difficult, the better. Part of the experience, aided by the proper coaching, was learning to overcome these obstacles. A good coach reaches into your soul to aid you in your quest to find the strength to not only survive, but achieve. However, it is only effective if you believe in what they are teaching. If you don't, it becomes just so much drivel - all sound and fury, signifying nothing. I, for one, choose to believe and have taken those lessons with me through my entire life.

I believe this to be true of all inspirational messages - either you believe in them, or you don't. So, in my mind, is it the case with the commitment to non-violence. The message is clear, and it is ancient. From Confucius, to Buddha, to Christ, to Gandhi, to Martin Luther King, the WORD has been made flesh: only LOVE can conquer HATE. The path of non-violence is the only way of securing a peaceful future. However, for non-violence to actually work, you must believe it in a way that involves total commitment. A half-assed approach to the concept dooms it to failure. It can only be effective when there is strength in numbers. The way to overcome the force of evil is to overwhelm it with the power of love; a universal love that cannot be denied.

Let me give you a case in point. Virtually everyone is familiar with the iconic image of a lone man, standing against a row of tanks during the ill-fated Tiananmen Square uprising in China. One, lone, unarmed, anonymous man stared down a 40-ton war machine. His only weapons were his integrity and his conviction. To this day, no one knows that man's name or, ultimately, his fate. Many claim this shows the folly of peaceful resistance against overwhelming force. That man was obliterated. But, was he really? Is he not immortal because of his resistance? Is that image not burned into our consciousness? Can you view that photo and not be moved by his incredible courage? His identity is, in the end, not really important. His actions are. He is all of us, if we allow him to be!

Here is my point. That was one man. The message he sent with his actions cannot be ignored. However, there are many who will ask, what in the end, did he really accomplish? Has China changed? So, was he really effective? Well, here in lies the challenge. If you don't BELIEVE in what he was trying to accomplish, then it was wasted. He threw his life away. However, if you COMMIT to the cause of non-violence, as he did, without fear of the risk or consequences, we can win. Instead of just one man facing down those tanks, what would have been the outcome if it were thousands, tens of thousands, or, even millions! Would the tanks have killed millions? Could they? Would their treads have crushed people into bloody pulp? Well, at some point, you can slaughter everyone and still not win. If the world rises up to say NO to violence, what are the purveyors of death to do, kill everyone? Think about it: if people refuse to yield, refuse to be governed by evil people, if there is no consent from the masses, how can they possibly rule? But, it must be all of the people. Half-assed measures simply cannot work. Then, there will be slaughter without gain. It must be all or none.

During a discussion on this topic, someone asked me, would you stop the Nazis on the beaches of Great Briton with flowers? Well, he certainly has a point. I have enormous respect for those who gave their lives to stop the spread of this and other great evils. However, in the end, where did it ultimately get us? Yes, we are free and stopped a great evil. However, did it break the cycle of violence? Are there no more wars? Are young people around the world not being consumed by the war machine? So, in the end, what have we really gained? It's time for new thinking (even if it really is old thinking). For us to survive as a species we have to find a better way to live and resolve conflict - among ourselves as individuals, and as nations. Perhaps, if we meet evil on the beaches with flowers, millions of flowers, we can win - and win forever.

Gandhi said it best: An eye for an eye, just leaves the whole world blind. I, for one, my friends, have chosen to see another way.

FUN WITH WORDS

Words and photo by F LoBuono

It is fairly common knowledge that I am no fan of the English language. My readers witness my disdain for it by my frequent attempts to massacre it. Despite nine years of rigorous instruction and draconian discipline by the good nuns at Madonna Parochial School of Fort Lee, NJ, my spelling still sucks and my use of malaprops comical. But I have my reasons - the biggest of which is the English language itself. I present the following examples as evidence:

PEEK
PEAK
and PIQUE

Three, simple words, all pronounced exactly the same, but spelled differently AND with different meanings:

We could see the children at the top of the stairs, all straining to get a PEEK at their Christmas presents, stacked under the tree.

As a hitter, Miquel Cabrerra, is at the PEAK of his career.

After being scolded by her mother, in a fit of PIQUE, Mary stormed out of the room.

I rest my case.

Today's MOMENT OF ZEN : At The Bus Stop 4/4/2014

Words and photo by F LoBuono

The bus stop is located on the edge of town. As far as bus stops go, it is better than most. Situated on a corner at a traffic light, it is handsomely landscaped with two wooden benches and a well-made, low stone wall to sit on while waiting for the bus. Thanks to the two large trees that share the space, it is also nicely shaded. Unlike most bus stops that tend to be cramped, dirty places, this one is open, airy, and welcoming. However, it does have one thing in common with the others; the people who ride the bus.

Virtually everyone has ridden the bus - at least one time in their lives. However, for most of us, in this day an age of the motor vehicle, riding the bus is a rare occurrence, an anomaly. Most people own their cars and use them with startling regularity. Yes, many of us commute to work via the bus and mass transportation. Yes, many of us ride the bus when the car is in the garage. However, the great majority of people who RELY on the bus for their ONLY means of transportation are the folks who can't afford to own or maintain a motor vehicle, i.e. the working poor. We see them waiting for the bus, at any time of day or night, carrying shopping bags or with their children in tow. English is often the second language. In the heat of a summer swelter or freezing in the bitter winter cold, they wait for the only means of transportation they can afford; the bus. This stop is no different.

What was unusual on this particular evening was that, despite the pleasant early Spring weather, the bus stop was deserted. It was around 7 pm and I was taking one of my sojourns from my apartment and into the village. As I strolled by, I noticed that not a soul occupied the space. No one. Unusual, I thought, for that hour of the evening, especially since the stop lies on a busy route. But, it certainly was not bustling on this particular evening. I would have strode right by it had something not caught my eye. I noticed four objects lying on the stone wall. I screeched to a halt to wheel back around to get a closer look. The light was fading and my curiosity was piqued. As I approached I could clearly make out that they were cans; two cans of corn, one can of beans, and a can of tomato soup. They displayed the Shoprite label and were probably from of 4 for a $1 sale. No big deal, really. But, I thought to myself, this is strange. Why were they there? Had someone forgotten to carry them onto the bus when they left? Did they fall out of someone's shopping bag? After a moment or two of playing amateur detective, I realized that they were not just LEFT there, they were PLACED there. Someone had left them there deliberately. The only thing left to ascertain was, why? Then, it struck me. Someone had realized what I had, as well: most of the people who rode that bus were not people of means. In fact, some of them may have been downright poor and, possibly, even hungry. Perhaps, the giver had even met someone at the stop who WAS hungry and was too proud to beg for money or food. Well, just maybe, this was one person's small gesture of generosity. Quietly, anonymously, someone offered sustenance to another, hungry human being. It was so simple. So easy. So inexpensive. And, yet, so sublime. So brilliant. Bravo, brother and/or sister, bravo.

Today's MOZEN 4/1/2014

Photo and words by F LoBuono

The Pendulum of Life, by its very nature, swings wildly in one direction before it swings in the other. Over and over again. Until it stops where it belongs - in the middle.