Fundraising Countdown

The support and fundraising that has happened on my behalf has touched my heart and has made alternative cancer treatment a possibility for me. Donations continue to be my primary funding for healthy food, supplements, living expenses and medical bills. If you feel moved to give to my Health and Wellness Fund, please follow the Paypal "Donate" button below. To avoid Paypal's 3% fee, checks or cash can be sent to Zachariah Walker, 1003 Chipeta Ave, Grand Junction, CO 81501. Blessings!

*CRITICAL ANGELES HOSPITAL VISIT: CURRENT ESTIMATED COST = $25,000. AHHH! PLUS UNEXPECTED CRISIS CONTROL AND 4 DAYS IN ICU*

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Monday, December 1, 2008

(the shit's gettin' deeper)


December 1, 2008

            The sun is setting on another day in Spain.  The parcel of my being has been posted for delivery, first class, to pass through the narrow streets of a final Spanish town.  Barcelona will deliver the first bit of familiarity I’ve experienced since stepping on this untried European soil. That is, aside from the familiarity I’ve learned in walking through the unfamiliar and facing my reflection in streams of resurfacing emotions.  One day’s elation is the bane of the next’s heaviness.  Possibilities and promises wrestle and settle on the compromise of a singular existence.  The world provides endless perspective that seems to diffuse form rather than shape it.  The difference between fiction and non becomes irrelevant and the awe in it all disallows monotony, yet withdrawing to the rusty cage seems the only salvation.  I will be a single drop of rain, until it’s time to be a travelin’ man again. 

In the cigarette smoke of Alicante I shared sanctity.  On the street I stumbled into the circle, a momentary family united by music.  I carry now the story of “illegals” living continents away from home; there is a bridge from Argentina and Chile to the coast of Spain.  And there is a bridge extending from the heart of a strange unkept man from Colorado.  Love lives like dreams in the slipstream.  I am weary and unrested, and I am born again. 

Bittersweet is the taste of travel the way I’m accustomed to experience it.  I realize the sap oozes from my skin and I am infatuated with relevance.  I carry a disenfranchised passion and yet my heart is true.  I laugh, I cry, I philosophize and expand.  I experience, I sojourn, I fly and I land. Potentiality flares like fuego and cinders out under the extinguisher of my short attention span.  I hide from the march and emerge for the dance.  I write creative garble just to play with words and wonder what the hell I was thinking the next day.  The thought of the moment… Tenacious D is brilliant.  And I’m looking forward for the mountain my thoughts have been rolling down for days and days to bottom out next to the meditation of a campfire and lullaby stream.      

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