My mother used to call me a dreamer “Hey pay attention.” She would jab at me from time to time when she’d see my eyes lose focus. We would drive together on errands or to visit family and I would sit next to her. Her voice was slightly jovial but also worried. She would correct me time and again but the urge to lose myself in my thoughts was too great for a child with an overly stimulated imagination.

I spent a considerable amount of time daydreaming and admiring. Whether it was the ocean view down the Pacific Coast Highway or the barren foothills of San Bernardino County the scenery of the world always fascinated me.

We arrived in Palayan at about 11:30 a.m. David, Venus, and I had travelled to the city north of us for a Radio Interview. During our work in promoting our upcoming Fighters Tryouts we had met an Individual who was a host at a small AM radio station and had invited David in for an interview to talk about the camp.

The drive had left me with the urge to use the restroom and we were early for our appointment so I took the liberty of talking a short walk. The walk led me to a small ravine that hid a dried river bed. My cat like curiosity got the best of me and quickly found a small path that lead down to the river bed.

For a few moments I meandered, watching the tadpoles in the small pools of water and weaving between the grasses that stood taller than my 66 inch frame. Then suddenly a cool burst of wind blew through the ravine cooling my hot skin and sending a wave of relaxation down my body.

As the winds subsided I turned in the direction they were racing. Winds rarely travel opposite the flow of rivers, so I made my way down maybe 20 meters from where I was standing. I could smell water as I poked my head out of a tall bundle of grass. I stepped out almost in awe. Ahead of me was nothing I had not seen before in past experiences, but what had me in awe was not visible.

The river was not flowing; it stood vibrating slightly to the swaying of the winds. The winds, that was all you could hear, just the swaying of the winds. No cars or tricycles, no people speaking, no music, no dogs barking, no hum of electricity; just the winds.

Perhaps in that moment of serenity it was only fitting that – from this position – nothing identifying the presence of modern man was visible. No electrical wires, no buildings, no homes, just the world as it is; untouched by the overwhelming hand of modern society. I closed my eyes in observance and as if in approval a gust of wind blew through the ravine suddenly filling the air with the random cadence of rustling grasses, trees and brush.

For a moment I could hear my Mother’s voice “Hey, pay attention.” I smile at the sentiment. Reality is I cannot do anything but pay attention; every detail of every moment, every feeling of every memory. My mother urged me in my youth to pay attention and for a time my young mind could not grasp the magnitude of such a simple correction. I walk away from this little piece of heaven nostalgic and utter a small acknowledgement to my mother’s distant voice. “I am..”

“I would never be so foolish as to say we should not dream, that we should not imagine, or contemplate; but we must not allow reality to be twisted by the fabrications of hidden agendas. We have powerful minds for a reason and such power should not be used against us, but be the reason we are impenetrable and invincible. Pay attention.”