Cadryn Chapter 1 Scene 3

Cadryn turned to walk down the street wanting nothing more than to blend in with the crowd. Immediately though, he notices a multitude of differences. Had things changed that much since he had been here last? Things felt sped up just a bit, and a bit brighter, people moved past him not giving him a second glance, which on the one hand was good but he clearly was not dressed like anyone else. Someone should have reacted, and the sidewalk felt different, like it resented him walking on it. All of this was subtle but taken together it was something he couldn’t overlook.

Nevertheless he tried. He matched his pace to the crowd, moving with them, just trying to be one with the humanity of this planet. Each step makes him more comfortable but also distances him from the arcane instincts of his world.

As he walks he senses ripples in the fabric of the flux of this world. He knows they are from the Overlords elite that are tracking him. The disturbance in the flux is strange though. Too much disturbance, and not enough definition. If he didn’t know better he would say… But no. He felt he was jumping to conclusions. Better to wait and see how this develops. Still the flux itself seemed different, something that shouldn’t be possible.

Cadyn realized he needed to stop before this carried him away. Immediately he turns and heads back the way he came. He sees Art Brown’s Bookshop and feels compelled to go inside. Things were getting more and more curious.

He opens the door and enters. The smell of old books greets him. This is comforting because it reminds him of his own library on his world. Again though, things are subtly different. Books have been rearranged, something Art would never have done. He moves deeper into the store and becomes hidden in the stacks and narrow aisles.

He feels another disturbance in the flux. This one is closer, faint still, but distinct. A smile, not at all friendly, crosses his face. He recognizes the signature. It is Cian, a tracker, The tracker. The Overlords Pet tracker. How very clever of the Overlord to select him. Who better to track him than Cian. He whispers to himself, “Ah dear Cian, There will be no delight in taking your life, but make no mistake, kill you I will.”

Cian is closer than he realized. Things were moving too fast. His escape plans need to be modified and he must do something to lose his pursuers.

He turns to leave and stops and pauses amidst the musty stacks of old books, trying to understand why Earth’s flux behaves like a stranger, and why this world—once familiar—now feels as though it is humming with something hidden just beneath its skin.

Cadryn: Chapter 1 Scene 2

Still in Manhattan but up in the 120s was an abandoned building. It had been condemned and was slated for demolition to make room for a luxury hirise. It was yet another step in the gentrification of the city that had been underway for some time now. This building though was only six stories tall, and as we have said it was abandoned. In the top floor in the back facing the alley was a large room. It was here that the air appeared to thicken momentarily and then twelve men simply began to materialize. Long moments pass giving the impression that something was not as it should have been. One of the men, Aidan who was himself a High Mage, touched the flux and drew a complex figure in the air in front of him. The figure begins to mutate and Aidan scowled, muttering something under his breath and rapidly picks at the figure in the air forcing it back in shape. The other men watch, clearly concerned. They all know what happens to them if this can’t be fixed. Aidan breathed a sigh of relief as their forms solidify.

In addition to Aidan, the group is made up of ten warriors. They are all highly trained. The best of the best. There are in addition two trackers, Cian and Conor. Trackers are from another race, but are mostly human in appearance. They have a natural ability to utilize the flux to enhance their sense to location of anyone they have met.

“The flux appears to be unstable or tainted with some kind of anomaly on this world,” Aidan said. “Use incantation only when absolutely necessary. All other forms of offense are approved. Is that clear?” Cian and Conor swore under their breath. Aidan looked directly at the two and they both simply nodded their heads, with no trace of emotion crossing their faces. Their jobs on this world just became even more challenging.

Aidan turned his attention to the group. “Does anyone have a read on the target?” Everyone looked back at the two trackers “I’m picking up something very faint”, Cian replied. “It could be him, but the I am feeling a whole lot more than I should. This is like nothing I have ever felt before.”

Aidan seemed to ignore anything other than that the target had been located. “Cian, take five men and track this life form down. Connor, start from the south end and work towards the center. We should meet somewhere in mid town. I want to have eyes on this one by dusk.”

The men in the abandoned building, look at each other and nod and begin walking down the stairs and out into the street. They move with precision and confidence. It seems clear they are highly trained. Turning onto a busy street they blend in with the crowds of pedestrians. No one gives them a second glance which is interesting because their attire is quite remarkable. People seem somehow focused on not noticing them.

Cadryn: Chapter 1 Scene 1

In a back alley somewhere in mid town Manhattan, a cold breeze stirred the loose detritus that is a part of every cities alley ways. All became calm, a portal opened and a Cadryn stepped through. He stood for a moment, calmly waiting. He had the look of intelligence, and power, and clearly he was not of this world. Noted the rain lightly falling. The sounds of automobiles, horns, and sirens, carried to him from the street. A large dumpster was directly across from him. It was next to a door with a faded sign overhead that read “Art Brown’s Used Books”, and that made him relax and feel a measure of confidence. He had been in Art’s shop before. The smells in the alley were familiar, almost, but there was something he couldn’t place that didn’t belong. It was odd, but he didn’t give it another thought. He was alone, and that was what mattered for now. He moved back into the darkest part of the alley. This was going to work out. He had taken the time to dress in nondescript clothing from his world leaving anything that identified him as a High Sorcerer behind. This was dangerous, he knew, but necessary. There were things that could enhance his spells making him near invincible. These same things would also serve as a homing beacon for the Overlord and his agents. It was what it was. He knew the risks. He would have to get more appropriate attire soon.

Breathing in to calm himself, he touched the flux, the source of all magic in every world. It was softer on this world, but it was still strong enough for his use. It had the effect too of quickly dissipating traces of his magic. He hoped it would give him an edge in staying ahead of the Overlord. He whispered a simple incantation, to strengthen his concealment spell he had cast just before coming here. Energy flowed around him and of its own accord began to mutate from concealment into something chaotic. Curious, he thought as he quickly modified the incantation and brought it under control. This was new, and this was disturbing. It introduced a new element into his plans. He could deal with it, he said to himself, couldn’t he? There was no time to worry.

And then it happened. It was faint but unmistakable. There was a disturbance in the flux on this world, it felt like a dozen stones dropped into a pond all at once, each one plopping distinctly. They had the unmistakeable taint of the dark overlord. Not him, but his Agents, no doubt the elite ones. He was surprised they had followed him so quickly.

Cadryn grabbed his satchel throwing it over his shoulder and began to walk towards the street. As he walks his presence in this world solidifies with each step as does a sense of unease he can’t quite shake. The realm he left behind begins to fades away. He has time, but not much. The sun was past its zenith and he wanted to completely disappear in this world before nightfall.

Time

My one main thought for the last year has been, when I retire I am not going to work anymore. Coworkers would ask, “So what are you going to do when you retire,” and I would reply, “Not come to work.” I really hadn’t given it much more thought than that. Partly, this was because I have never had a shortage of things that interest me to keep me busy. I have been between jobs several times in my career and have never had a problem keeping busy. This time is different.

The main reason is because I am sharing the experience this time with my type A wife. She is hard wired to always be busy. I, as you might guess, have no problem sitting down when the work is done and doing nothing, perhaps even taking a nap. To quote a line from “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, “I’m not wasting time, it’s only your limited culture point of view that makes it seem so.” She looks over at me in such times though, and I have to admit here I don’t know quite what she is thinking and that’s probably all for the best, but there is a not so subtle change in her aura, and I instinctively know she is wishing something like, “I wish he would get up off his skinny little @## and do something productive.”

This retirement thing is still new for both of us and we both realize there is not enough to keep us both busy. We will figure this out, and it will take time. Until then things may be a little uncomfortable for both of us, and I’m okay with that. Really.

Walking

Most dogs, not all, but most that I see on my daily walks look like they have this happy sort of grin on their face and they’re going to come over and say hi. A few seem angry, and others seem so caught up in the pure joy of being outside that I often never get more than a glance. I thing dogs, and dog walkers are an almost universally friendly lot.

People are different. Most men I meet avoid eye contact, and I wonder if this is some kind of alpha male conditioning thing going on. I am guilty of this myself. If you make eye contact with them you either got to say something friendly, or pick a fight (well maybe not but you catch my drift). It’s easier to ignore them, right?

Some people, and my wife is one of them, walks fast. Others, and I am one of these, tend to be much slower in their daily jaunts. I will amuse myself by counting various things I see on my walk, how many birds I see and what type, how many times I turn or change directions, and generally try and immerse myself in the experience. A walk is never just a walk

When I walk I have courses I have laid out and never vary from them. Currently I have a 1.5 mi, 2 mi, and a 3 mi course. Now that I am retired and walking everyday I anticipate adding a 4 mi course at some point.

Walking is exercise, but it’s more than that, or it can be.

Still In The Game

Typing and having Parkinsons can be a challenge. Fingers need to move rapidly, which happens to be something that my Parkinsons specifically rails against. I have tweaked my system settings to inhibit keys repeating if they are held down too long, and that helps a bit, but errors caused by my recalcitrant fingers still creep in. Interestingly, all of this improves as the day goes on. By the evening I have taken all my doses of my medications and things are noticeably better. I find that a little perverse. Maybe I should adjust my circadian rhythm? Even so, I can’t complain. I have been diagnosed for almost four years now and my visible symptoms are still light enough that you likely wouldn’t know I was dealing with this disease.

Speaking of typing, writing is something I spar with. I had a long running blog that I finally quit posting to somewhere around 2010 when my life was too much with me to keep it up. Writing every day definitely improved my ability to put words together, but I was no poet. That ability has atrophied, and I am just now finding the time to pick it up again. We’ll see how it goes huh?

Back to my Parkinsons though. The only other visible symptoms that may be noticeable are balance issues that have started to creep in. Balance is something that cannot be fixed through medication so if it gets worse I will be using a cane and hope I don’t end up in a wheelchair. I also have an issue with talking. Yes, my voice is whisper soft, but also, and this one is a bit weird, sometimes the words don’t come. They are in my brain, and it is trying to make my voice box work, but the signals aren’t being received. Fun huh? Both of those are still only minor annoyances.

I am most grateful that I am still in the game.

My Eyes Don’t Open Wide Enough

I had ADD before it was known to be a thing. I breezed through school never doing any homework and was a solid C student. The only thing that saved me was I always did well on tests, and I happen to be a bit smart.

Once I entered the professional world I found out I could no longer coast. A string of screw ups early on in my first job happened that were my fault and I was forced to pay attention to what I was doing. I went through a string of organizational systems starting with Daytimer and ending up with David Allen’s “Getting Things Done,” GTD. The methodology is exhaustive and bulletproof. It is elegant. I started using OmniFocus, a Mac application and stayed with it the rest of my career. It took everything I could throw at it, and I became highly organized.

Entering retirement is forcing me to leave all that behind. Using GTD & Omni Focus in my golden years is like trying to shovel snow off your sidewalk with a road grader. So I am moving to a new system. My current candidate is Ryder Carroll’s Bullet Journal (BuJo). It is a minimalist system. You can do the whole thing in a small notebook. Perfect.

Having said all this, I really don’t have that much to put in there. There is this thing that has always been rattling around in my brain for most of my adult life though. It goes something like this. “If I can just sit down and take the time to think things through, I can get clarity in my life and things will be oh so much simpler.” I got a notebook and set aside a half hour a day for “thinking time.” The notebook and pen were the only technology I allowed myself. I filled the notebook. I had some nice insights. The activity proved, and continues to prove valuable. So did I get the clarity I was seeking? No. I have at times come close though, and I think that is the best any of us can do. Let me close this missive with one of my favorite quotations. “The picture is far too big for you to see kid. Your eyes don’t open wide enough.”

Beginnings Are Hard

I have a quote I got from a friend that puts forth the idea that things always start out messy and over time they come together. I should look it up because it is powerful but this is good enough for this missive. I am entering into retirement and it is new territory for me and I am starting out messy.
The closest I have come, as I have previously mentioned, is when I have been between jobs and I am finding out that is not the same set of motions at all. I am very much unorganized and that is not a good feeling for me. There are a lot of things I want to do, some more important than others, and I need to build a new routine. The complexity is multiplied (by 2) when I add in my dear wife who is facing this same issue and dealing with it in her own fashion. There are two schedules to manage and one of us likes structure and routines and intentions and lists much much more than the other. Understand that none of this presents any insurmountable obstacle, it’s just an observation that I am currently in the messy phase of this affair and it makes me just a bit anxious.

My last routine fell apart because I couldn’t manage fitting my daily routines into the schedule changes (I either had a 7am to 3pm shift or 1pm to 9pm) of a physically demanding retail job. If I were younger I could have done it easily. It came down to a question of managing my energy level so I had enough to work my shift.
So yeah, I will deal with this new phase of my life and all the mess that goes along with it. Structure will emerge over time. Beginnings though, are messy.

Retirement

I am easing into retirement, feeling my way as I go. Their are things I know I want to do in this last phase of my life, like read more, and write more. Other things are on my list that I know I want to get to, but don’t carry the same sense of urgency. Hiking and photography are on that list. The over arching thing though is to be prepared to give an accounting of my life and how I spent my time here when I die and pass over to the other side. In fact, this is not a new thing. I have long had this at the top of my list. It has, in fact, been there as long as I can remember.


I bought a new planner to help keep me focused on this. I am a long time user of the GTD methodology and have used OmniFocus in my implementation. Now that I am retired though it is overkill for me. It still works, it’s just too much. So I am switching to the Bullet Journal “BuJo” methodology. Their are many things I like about the approach. I find the morning and evening reflection that is built into the methodology very appealing. I also like how you can tune the system to meet your specific needs. I envision tuning this system, as I get more comfortable with it to support the routines and goals that will help me end up where I want to be.

Retirement is a blank slate. You can fill your time however you choose. You can spend you last years on the couch in front of a TV or you can lose yourself in service to others, or improve yourself. Or anywhere in between. In a sense it is a true measure of what you have done with your life thus far, your chance to show just how far you have come. I plan on documenting my journey here. Why don’t you join me and come along for the ride?

Meet Up

I think of my brother Larry often. I imagine seeing him walking up to me while I am in the middle of the produce department where I work. He has been dead just over thirty years now but I still remember him like it was a few days ago. In seeing him I realize he is the one who will bring me over, crossing the bridge from life to what comes after. I have no way of knowing if this is true of course. I remember how he stands, the way he would look at me, how he would always call me Joel, distancing himself from our abusive father who had diminutive names for us all.

Sometimes I imagine him walking up to me, standing in front of me. Who is the first to speak? I don’t know. Sometimes I talk to him. I tell him I am sorry he had such a hard life, and that I hope God has made it all up to him, because he deserved far better than what he received. He doesn’t answer me though. I don’t really know what he would say. Not yet.

I talked to my sister this week. She died the same year my brother did, 1993. I tell her I am looking forward to seeing her again. Seeing her without her burden she carried in this life, seeing how beautiful she really is.

I talk to my mom often. I tell her I’m sorry I didn’t come up to see her before she died and I ask her forgiveness. I have deep guilt here. She doesn’t answer me either. So much of me springs from her, what she stood for, the life she lived, the example she set for me, the things that she taught me. Some days I imagine I feel her forgiveness.

I talk to my dad on occasion. There isn’t much to say to him though. Sometimes I forgive him. Sometimes that seems presumptuous because what makes me think he thinks he did anything wrong, and that if he does he is sorry? I still think of him though even so. I feel drawn to him and I don’t know why. Perhaps my heart still yearns for his love, his approval, his treating my like a son he was proud of. Things that never were. Even so I have imagined meeting him. He would come up to me and say something like, “Hello son, I have come to bring you home.” In all my life I have never heard him call me by my given name.

I feel them praying for me, even though they are all long dead now. Does God hear their prayers? I believe He does. I yearn to see them again. They are family and that means something to me even if it doesn’t to anyone else.

And Anna. Did she dance?