Romance With a Twister

It was some time late in the month of May when two fiery souls, both acting as if they’d been love struck by Cupid’s darts, decided to meet. He was a famous actor on a short rest in between films, and in his early thirties, Bill was a lively guy still full of vigor and passion.

She was a young girl who just graduated from the University of Texas. Mentally, Victoria’s mind was already set for summer vacation and the excessive but responsible celebrating deserved by someone who just spent the past four years sitting in a classroom.

This blossoming romance began in autumn of the previous year when after watching Bill Greenwood’s latest movie, Victoria found herself a little consumed by the talented actor’s performance. Bill played the role of a first responder who answered the call for search and rescue missions during times of national weather emergencies.

Anyway, in typical Hollywood fashion, Roger Lindland, played by Bill Greenwood, saved the day. He rescued the damsel in distress, fell in love, and rode off into the sunset. It was dramatic romance at the highest level.

After leaving the theatre, Victoria Burnett joked with her friends about how she was going to search for the young actor’s social media page and send him a message when she returned to her dorm room. Her friends just laughed.

“We dare you,” they said laughing.

When Victoria returned to her dorm room, she messaged Bill Greenwood who just happened to be on a short break in between films, and he responded.

They sent messages back and forth to one another, then videos, and finally, they exchanged phone numbers. Bill and Victoria were like twin flames destined for reunification despite living in a reality that used time to keep them divided. They spoke several times per week consistently, and Bill’s short break turned into an extended vacation as his new movie contract was still under negotiations.

Bill was sensual and infatuated with what Victoria was sharing with him, and Victoria was intellectually stimulated by Bill’s quick-witted and loving words. They enjoyed the computer time they shared with each other.

The winter came and went quickly, and the spring seemed to be moving at an even faster pace. Victoria took her last class in April, and Bill was talking to her about meeting him. The timing was perfect, she was done with school, and he was still waiting for his new contract.

The plan was for Victoria to drive north from Texas, and for Bill to drive east from California until they met in the Heartland, and I couldn’t think of more fitting place for two lovers to meet. X marked the spot for this fated trip. Wichita, Kansas was the destination.

Bill Greenwood. He was an actor preparing to star in his thirteenth film. He was young, rich, and famous. Victoria Burnett. She was a college graduate with her whole life in front of her. She was young and beautiful, and she held the world in the palm of her hand.

Never in their wildest dreams did either of them see this coming. Was it true love? Where they really twin flames destined for reunification?

Well, we’ll never know. With a shorter distance to travel, Victoria got to Wichita first. Not long after, Bill arrived. They ran to one another with their arms outstretched. They hugged and kissed, and at that very moment, they were both killed by a tornado that came ripping through the region unexpectedly.

How ironic.

Romance With a Twister is a work of fiction written by Francis Joseph LaManna.

The Leather Jacket

The Leather Jacket
By: Francis Joseph LaManna

How I came to be in possession of such magnificence was truly by chance. I recently purchased an old home not far from Manhattan’s Garment District in New York, and it was probably two or three weeks after I had moved all of my belongings in and got myself situated that I stumbled upon a hidden room on the third floor.

It was approximately six feet in height, and the dimensions of the floor were four feet by four feet. It was more like a walk-in closet than a room, but either way, I walked into this space and there it was.

I’ve always had an eye for fashion, and I’ve seen a lot, but this was a first. Hanging there, on a hook screwed in to the back wall of this closet was a vintage leather, burgundy in color. “Good heavens,” I muttered to myself. This was indeed the finest and most marvelous of all outer wear.

That evening, I tried it on, and I must admit, it looked fantastic on me. I felt like a new man, no wait, like a distinguished man. The jacket itself commanded respect, and while it was on me, I felt like I could’ve been anything I wanted. A business man, a gangster, an academic expert in a far-reaching field like psychology or philosophy-whatever, you name it, and I could’ve been it.

Without a doubt, this leather jacket belonged to me now, and as the saying goes, finders keepers. I brought the jacket downstairs, and before adding it to my own collection of coats, I made sure to place it on a hanger of good quality. Leather jackets can be quite weighty, and I didn’t want it to end up on the floor.

Several nights later, Martin Saint Pierre, a good friend of mine, came over and I implored him to try on the jacket. After several hours of making up poor excuses, he finally decided to walk upstairs with me to see what the fuss was all about. Well, his eyes lit up, and while his mouth hung open, I had to remind him not to drool on my new carpet.

“Ooh, very nice,” he said. And then, he reached for the coat. After sliding both arms in and adjusting the collar, he decided to fasten the three buttons on the front of the jacket.

Now, let me tell you this, Martin Saint Pierre was no saint, but he didn’t deserve to die the way he did that night. His face turned three different shades of blue, purple, and red before he fall backwards and hit his head on the floor. But, it wasn’t his head hitting the floor that did him in! We just couldn’t get the jacket off of him, and as he struggled in his attempts to do so, the jacket got tighter and tighter.

The leather jacket suffocated him, and a lot of other people too. I gave it as a birthday gift to people I didn’t like, and then I would just take it back and wear it home. As a matter of fact, it’s still in my closet.

The Leather Jacket is a short story fiction piece written by Francis Joseph LaManna.

The Circle of Life

Good afternoon, Beloved!

It’s a gorgeous day outside today; 65 degrees, sunny, and blue skies as far as the can see. It feels like a spring day.

Anyway, with all this talk about reincarnation lately, I wanted to share a story with all of you. It can be really confusing, so I’m going to try to write it in a way that’s clear.

Edgar Cayce stated that when we reincarnate, we do so with all of the people we lived with in our previous lives.

Believe it or not, it’s kind of interesting for him to say that.

So, a few years ago, a man that I knew died. On the same day he died, later in the day less than 100 miles away, my friend’s son was born.

I laughed. I said, there it is, the cycle of life, it’s endings and new beginnings, and new life after death.

Then I was just joking around, and I said the baby was probably a reincarnation of the man who died.

Well, five years passed, and the baby is now five. His father decided that he wanted to take a trip down memory lane recently and revisit the place where he grew up. He decided to take the baby with him.

While they were out there, the man ran into a friend that he hasn’t seen in over 25 years. A chance meeting for sure.

But then I realized that that person who he hadn’t seen in over 25 years was a very close and personal friend of the man who died.

I couldn’t believe it. Was my friend’s decision to take a trip down memory lane subconsciously done to reunite the baby with someone he knew in a previous life?

Idk, but it’s awfully interesting how the person my friend ran into just happened to be a personal friend of the man who died, which is quite possibly now this little kid.

I wanted to know if my friend introduced the two and what the conversation was like, but he was uninterested and sketchy on the details, so I just blew it off.

I feel like I just first hand witnessed the truth of Edgar Cayces statement.

Ooh, Pick Me, Pick Me!

This is such a passive way of looking at life, but whatever.

Like a plant or an herb sprouts from the seeds we place in dirt, we sprout from the seed of our mother’s womb. And like the plant soaks up the sun and gets the proper hydration, we do the same.

The plant grows gradually, and one day, it begins to blossom-it’s magnificence, brilliance, and beauty is on display for the world to see.

Winter, nature’s natural death is around the corner and fast approaching. If we don’t step in and pick that plant or herb, and do something with it, it will be left to die.

We, in that situation, are in full control of what happens to that plant from the moment we plant the seed.

But, what about us? If no one steps in and picks us for something we will be left to die. So, we sit here, firmly rooted, and scream pick me, pick me!

🤣🤣IDK, I feel like no one is picking me?

Where’s the Rest of it?

Where’s the Rest of it?

By Francis Joseph LaManna

Horror, Short Story Fiction

The night I passed out from fear is one I’ll never forget. It was late at night, or rather early in the morning, probably around 2 o’clock. I was working an overnight shift, and I just left the building for my lunch hour.

The place I worked at was located in a busy district of large city that seemed to be open around the clock, and that just added to shock of what I saw. There are some things you never expect to see in place that heavily populated all hours of the day and night.

It was the third week of October and those warm summer breezes that swept through the city were long gone. The air was brisk with a slight chill to it-not exactly coat weather, but sweatshirt or long sleeves for sure.

Knowing I only had an hour for lunch, and ten minutes of that break was spent getting out of the building, I was basically speed walking. Through the darkness of the early morning and the crowds of people still out for a good time, I walked with my head down. I hated that I needed to rush. The city was illuminated with antique gas lamps, which gave it a colonial look. It was nostalgic and beautiful.

There was a convenient store two block away, and that was my destination. Wasting no time when I arrived there, I barreled through the doors avoiding the comments from the customers who were on their way out.

“You don’t have to be so rude,” they yelled.

Whatever. I didn’t take long for me to pick out my order because I usually get the same thing every time I go there, iced tea, a turkey sandwich, and a bag of potato chips. Some people say I’m a creature of habit, but I think I’m just superstitious.

So, here I was, back outside in the store’s parking lot enjoying my turkey sandwich at 2 o’clock in the morning. When I was finished eating, I put all the garbage into the bag my order was placed in, and I was about to toss that bag into the dumpster. Like I usually do.

The convenient store had one of those 10-yard roll off containers on the premises. It was the kind of dumpster that was open at the top with a big heavy door on the side, which was always closed..

but, not tonight.

As I got close to the container, I saw a sneaker sticking out from the side. The heavy metal door was ajar. I continued to approach the dumpster because from where I was standing, it looked like someone threw a sneaker in the box and it fell out of the side.

Well, I paused dead in my tracks. A leg was attached to the sneaker. I was terrified, and for a second a thought about turning around to get someone from inside the store, but I was frozen. I couldn’t move.

A brisk October morning suddenly turned bitter cold, and as I stood there shaking from fear, I was hit with the bug of intrigue. Shall I go further? I thought about it for a second, and because I was already so close to this leg, all I had to do was lean forward.

I did, and that’s all there was! It was a sneaker with a foot in it that was attached to half of a leg.

“Where’s the rest of it,” were the last words I muttered before passing out.

The End

Where’s the Rest of it is a short story fiction written on August 24, 2023 by Francis Joseph LaManna, and published for the first time on Nooz Buffet dot com.

Copyright

© [Francis LaManna] and [http://noozbuffet.com], [2018]. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to [Francis LaManna] and [http://noozbuffet.com] with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Francis Joseph LaManna

Loop 2

Loop Part 2 of 2

Introduction

Over the years, hell has been defined by a number of people and in a number of different ways. There is, however, one thing we can all agree on, and that, is that hell, without a doubt, is a place. What kind of place specifically you wonder? Well, that’s another story for another time because usually, we have to wait for the person experiencing hell to give us his or her perception of it. But, what about the people who don’t come back? What about the people who never make it out? Not everyone makes it out to share their story. Mr. Pool was one of the lucky ones.

My Story

Most people say hell is a dark place of torment. They say it’s hot, and I’m not talking about the hotness of a summer day. I’m talking about extreme heat, and air so thick and heavy, that it’s impossible to breath. Based on the stories shared by others, I imagined hell to be a place full of demons and creatures. I imagined piles of skeletal remains telling the many stories of those who came before and the lifeless gaunt bodies of those there in the present-too tired to even talk-punished if they did.

I guess my imagination got the better of me though, because hell, my hell, wasn’t like that at all. Well, wait a minute. That’s a lie. Now that I’m thinking about it, there was a fire. Yes, there was a fire, I just wasn’t in it very long. I can’t even tell you how many times I came stumbling out of that fire, and that’s only after I was aware that I was doing so.

It’s your turn to use your imagination. Imagine waking up to this reality where the same thing keeps happening over and over again. You come stumbling out of this fire over and over again, and it’s not just a fire. It’s a fire that erupted from an explosion!

Anyway, you’re only survivor, and after you come stumbling out of this terrible crash and fall into the extended arms of the paramedics, you’re rushed to the hospital and rushed back onto the same helicopter that just crashed. I have no idea how long this was going on for, and like I said, even after I became aware that it was happening, it happened so many times I lost count.

For me, this was hell. My personal hell wasn’t hot. There were no demons, no devils with pitchforks, and no creatures. My hell was being stuck in a repeating sequence of events. I literally woke up to this reality, and once I did, things got interesting.

Now, there are three parts to this story. There’s how I became aware or woke up, what happened when I did finally, and how I managed to get myself free.

Becoming Conscious

The crazy part concerning my sudden awareness was that I truly believe it was meant to be because when you think about it, it shouldn’t have happened. In case you’re not familiar with professional DJ equipment, I’ll explain. Professional DJ equipment like a cd player back in the day had a loop button on it.

You could take a twenty second portion from a ten-minute song and keep it replaying in a loop. If you time it perfectly, the loop is seamless. How long would it would take the crowd to realize their favorite song wasn’t actually playing, but on a twenty-second loop? Who knows, but some will eventually. Something will cause that light-bulb-moment in some of their heads.

This is what my situation was like. It was a seamless loop from the time I came stumbling out of the fire to the time I came stumbling out of the fire. How do you wake up from that? How could you when there’s nothing to lead you to believe there’s more than what you’re experiencing?

Well, I did, and it was the implementation of numbers that caused my awakening. Numbers, they’re our creator’s imprint on things, and that’s why I say my awakening was meant to be. I woke up to this horrific reality because I was supposed to. The first step to resolving any issue is to become aware of it. Right? How can you solve a problem if you’re not aware the problem exists?

Numbers. The number of the hospital room was 716, and I explained that I would never forget it because that was my birthday. I was born on the 16th day of the 7th month, July 16th. Now that I’m looking back on this, and it’s all hindsight now, I wished someone would come to the room to tell me they loved me, because subconsciously, from the repetition of this loop, I knew I wasn’t going to be in that hospital for very long. I realize this now.

Then, I saw the number 716 again because it was the number on the helicopter. When I saw that number for the second time, I had another wish. It was a different wish. I was hoping and wishing that I was actually a crab (because I was a Cancer) with an impenetrable outer shell I could retreat into, because subconsciously, probably from the repetition of the loop, I knew the crash was coming up next.

So, it was the number, 716. It was seeing the same number in two different places and having two different wishes. 716 was an alert that something was about to happen. It’s like going to bed at night and setting your alarm clock for the following morning at 7:16.

716 was the wakeup call. It was a wakeup call that I was about to leave the hospital, and it was a wakeup call the helicopter was going to crash. Instinctively, I was asking for what I needed through my hopes and wishes, and that’s how eventually, I woke up and realized I was stuck in this repeating sequence-this seamless loop of repeating events.

The Loop

Emotionally, I was all over the place once I realized I was in the loop. At first, I felt like claustrophobia was setting in-like the walls were closing in and it was hard to breath. I was anxious, and scared. Then, suddenly, all those negative emotions and feelings subsided, and I was filled with laughter and joy.

I did not ask to be here, and I did not ask to be stuck in this sequence, but I wasn’t alone. Surely, there were other people experiencing this hell with me, and the fact that I wasn’t alone provided some relief. Just some.

I begged and pleaded with the paramedics and first responders to listen to me. I tried to tell them we were all stuck in this loop-this repeating sequence of events, but they just laughed at me. They told me I was delusional from the crash, and for a brief moment, they almost convinced me that was true. I mean, from a medical standpoint, I could see why they would think that, but I knew better.

The deck was stacked against me and just getting them to listen to me was an uphill battle. They were so into their job and following procedure that I don’t even think they realized I was talking to them, but I was.

“How the hell am I going to convince them that what I’m saying is true if they won’t even listen to me,” I thought to myself. So, I decided, instead of pushing the proverbial rock up the hill, I’ll just let it go.

I wasn’t going to kill myself trying to convince them that I was going to crash in their helicopter, and once again, fall into their arms several hours from now. Screw it.

Then, I tried to play the role of the prophet. When I was in the hospital bed, and things were a little calmer, I told them I could predict the future. I told them I was a time-traveling prophet sent back to them from the future to warn them about the lives that were going to be lost in the helicopter crash.

I told them, in advance, they were going to transport me by helicopter to another hospital, and while in route, the bird would take a nosedive. They blew me off until the doctors actually made the decision to transport me.

Then, they were impressed. Yeah, I turned a few heads, but I guess they weren’t impressed enough to ever call off the helicopter. So, the sequence continued.

I tried everything. I begged them, I talked to them, and I played the roles of prophet, alien, time-traveler, and God himself. I used sarcasm, humor, and love to get through to them, but they were impenetrable like the shell I wished for.

Then, I said to myself, “You know what? I’m going to have some fun with this. Instead of stumbling out of the fire, I came out doing cartwheels, running zigzags, and doing jumping-jacks. Sometimes, I came out singing and dancing. One time, I came out of the fire moonwalking with no clothes on.

Nothing changed. They never changed. The paramedics and first responders were always standing there with their arms extended-waiting for me to fall into their clutches, and I always did. I always returned to the hospital, and they always took me in and pushed me right back out to the launch pad. In one door and out of the other.

I tried to warn the pilot and the people on the helicopter. I tried to tell them they were going to crash, but they never listened.

The helicopter always crashed, and I returned to the flames that engulfed a helicopter behind me. Instinctively, I didn’t turn around, not because I didn’t want to, but because I knew. I knew there was a helicopter engulfed by those flames.

The joy left my body, and nothing was fun anymore. I wasn’t alone, but in a sense, I really was. There was no one to play with. No one was there to laugh at me and all the silly stuff I was doing, and I had no one to laugh at.

I got sad and began to cry. The real reality was setting in, that I just gained conscious awareness only to be stuck in this frigging death loop.

Then, I got angry and filled with rage!

Like I said earlier, emotionally, I was all over the place once I realized I was in the loop, and believe me, I got it all out of my system before finally putting my thinking cap on.

Unwinding Hell

Game over, it was now time to think! I stopped joking, I stopped dancing, and I stopped reaching out to those around me. I stopped preforming and I stopped putting on a show. No one was listening to me, and there really wasn’t a lot of time. Immediately, after coming out of the fire, I thought about things. I used the time on the gurney, my time spent in the hospital, and that short ride in the helicopter before it crashed to think about what was going on.

Physically, I was going through the motions, I was on autopilot, but mentally, I was completely aware and alive. And, yes, it was difficult to keep my mouth shut when I knew exactly what was going to happen, but talking wasn’t the answer. That was clear. Whatever show I found myself in, I was definitely not the star.

I just needed to do two things I hadn’t done yet, listen, and pay attention. The loop itself was seamless, that part was true, but there were imperfections in it. The longer I thought about it the more I realized it didn’t make sense.

I came stumbling out of the fire, that’s how it always started. So, I started there. If this sequence began with me stumbling out of the fire, then that would mean the return point is the crash itself. But, how could that be? How could this sequence begin and end with the helicopter crash, even though, it seemingly did?

I replayed the events in my mind, “The helicopter crashes, I go to the hospital, and I get back in the same helicopter that crashes again?”

It didn’t make sense.

If this loop was perfect, I wouldn’t have any knowledge of the crash. If the loop was perfect, I shouldn’t experience anything twice, or at least no single event should happen twice in the same loop.

But, it did, and I did experience something twice in the loop. The number 716. You see, in order to unravel the loop, you have to find the point where the sequence is connected. Once you find that point, you can pry away until an opening is created, thus, once again allowing the free flow of events that are supposed to take place.

A loop is a circle, but it’s also an illusion. There’s supposed to be this perfect and continuous ending with a new beginning without there really being a beginning or an ending, but I had to get here someway.

Somehow, I ended up in this loop, and if it wasn’t the crash then where was the entry point?

It was the hospital. I went to the emergency room, and the doctors decided to transfer me by helicopter. When I got into the helicopter it crashed, and this never-ending loop began starting with the crash and me going back to the hospital, but I wasn’t originally in the hospital because of the crash.

My life, or the timeline of my life got twisted with someone else’s, and I knew that because I didn’t die in the helicopter crash. It obviously wasn’t my time to die.

Now I knew, the timeline of my life got twisted with someone else’s timeline, and that was God’s plan because I didn’t die in a horrific helicopter crash. I was now in someone else’s timeline because I was supposed to be there, I was supposed to wake up, and I was supposed to save a life.

But, whose timeline, and how could I save them or him or her if no one was listening to me? Those were the questions.

I don’t even know how many more times I had to go back in that helicopter before realizing what I had to do, I just knew that every return was another chance for me to experiment. It was another opportunity to take what I retained from the previous loop and continue building until I perfected this thing.

Finally, the light bulb lit up in my skull, and instead of running over that guy who was still mumbling something despite loosing the lower half of his body in the crash, I decided to bend down and listen to what he was trying to say.

He was the pilot, and he was the only person in this entire sequence of events who was actually trying to talk to me. See, I didn’t need to convince anyone of anything, I just needed to listen.

When I bent over, he said to me, “We didn’t have to die today, but tell my wife I love her.”

We didn’t have to die today?

What did he mean?

It took a while, but I got it right.

They were rushing me out of the hospital and onto the launchpad. As they brought the wheelchair lift down slowly to accommodate me, I noticed the number on the helicopter.

716 was the number, and I’ll never forget it because I was born on the 16th day of the 7th month. Yup, July 16th. I was a Cancer.

When I got in the helicopter, I motioned for the pilot to come to me like the paramedics and first responders had done so many times before.

He did, and when he got close enough he put his hand on my shoulder. I pointed towards the gauges of his flying machine. He looked and realized the helicopter was out of gas.

-F.J.L

Loop is a short story fiction piece written by Francis Joseph LaManna.

Loop, The Video

Loop is a short story fiction piece written in the first person. I’m playing the character of Bobby Pool, a man who wakes up to the reality that he’s stuck in a repeating sequence of events.

The first part has already been posted, and the final installment will be up today. Check back and read about Bobby’s full story as he explains how he woke up, the ordeal he went through, and how he finally figured out how to unweave himself from the entanglement of this peculiar predicament.

https://videopress.com/v/y7vGcZGE?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata&useAverageColor=true

Booby Pool, stuck in a Loop.

Loop

Introduction

Fans, Friends, and Followers, good morning! I can’t remember the last time I wrote short story fiction here on N.B., and I guess it’s because I decided a while ago that any material good enough to sell, I would hold and work into one of my books. But, then I said to myself, “I’m not going to hold out on my followers!” Let’s have some fun!

Without further delay, here’s the first part of a two-part short story fiction piece titled..

LOOP

I came stumbling out of the fire that engulfed something behind me. I couldn’t tell what it was, and I wasn’t about to look back either. Maybe I was in shock, I don’t really know, but the body parts that lay scattered had absolutely no affect on me. I didn’t even stop to talk to the man who was still mumbling something despite having lost the entire lower half of his body.

A high-pitch ringing was all I could hear, and the horrific smell of something cooking wafted into my nostrils, but when I raised my head finally, I could at least see the clear path ahead of me. A group of paramedics and first responders were frantically motioning me to come to them. I assumed they didn’t want to get too close to whatever was burning behind me.

They were waving their hands, and I continued moving forward in their direction. When I reached a distance safe enough for them to make a move, the group stepped up, met me in stride, and they caught me as I fell forward like a track star crashing through a ribbon at the end of his heat.

There’s a good chance I would’ve hit the pavement face-first had they not been there to catch me. The next fifteen or twenty minutes were a blur, even though, I never lost consciousness. Ever-so-gently, they placed me on the gurney, strapped my head and neck in place, and gave me a thumbs up before loading me into the ambulance. We sped off with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

Then, we reached the emergency room entrance at what I guessed to be the nearest hospital, and the doors slip open wide for us. Nurses and different staff members rushed to my side and ushered me down the long corridors of the hospital until we reached an open room. 716 was the room number, and I’ll never forget it because I was born on the 16th day of the 7th month. Yup, July 16th. I was a Cancer, and to be honest, I was longing for the familiar at this point.

I hoped and wished someone I knew would show up just to say I love you and everything would be okay, but that didn’t happen. I mean, maybe it would’ve if there was time , but after several x-rays and some other tests I overheard the doctors talking about moving me.

They were shocked at my condition, almost in disbelief, but they weren’t about to take any chances. They arranged to have me air-lifted or flown by helicopter to another hospital for additional testing.

Removed from my bed and in a wheelchair now, I was being pushed out to the launchpad located on the roof of the hospital. As they brought the wheelchair lift down slowly to accommodate me, I noticed the number on the helicopter.

716 was the number, and I’ll never forget it because I was born on the 16th day of the 7th month. Yup, July 16th. I was a Cancer, and to be honest, I was longing for the familiar at this point. I was hoping and wishing that I was actually a crab with an impenetrable outer shell I could retreat into..

..because this bird was going down. It was going down fast-nose first!

I came stumbling out of the fire that engulfed something behind me. I couldn’t tell what it was, and I wasn’t about to look back either.

Check back for the continuation of Loop, a two-part short story fiction piece written by Francis Joseph LaManna.

Cancer 29/30

Good morning everyone!

Do you have something placed on the 29/30 degree of Cancer? This is the very last degree in Cancer, right on the cusp of Leo. I have the trans-Neptunian dwarf planet, Orcus there, I know my brother has Jupiter there, and I’m sure a lot of other people have placements there as well.

The Sabian Symbol for Cancer 29/30 reads: “A Daughter of the American Revolution,” and according to the seers of the Sabian mysteries, this is tied to respect for tradition.

Yesterday, I used several books in my possession for reference in order to come up with a view of what this degree is all about.

So, the 29/30 degree of Cancer is in the last decan of the sign. Since signs are 30 degrees, astrologers broke them down into decans, which is three groups of 10 degrees. Each decan has it’s own description, unique field of energy, and sign ruler.

According to my good friend, Bernie Ashman, the last decan of Cancer is between the dates 7/12 and 7/21, and this is important because it gives us a time frame, or a time of the year, which helps to create an image in our minds we can attach to the degree. So, we’re obviously dealing with the summer time here in the northern hemisphere. Imagine a warm summer day with the sun glaring off the surface of a vast ocean.

Pisces is the ruler of this 3rd zone, the energy field is mutable, and the related signs are Cancer and Pisces. Cancer and Pisces translates to “fueled by causes.”

So, according to Ashman, the 29/30 degree of Cancer is tied to causes. This is super interesting.

Why?

Because according to astrologer, Woolfolk, the 29/30 degree of Cancer is connected to the ancient constellation, Argo Navis. Mythology tells us Argo Navis was the magical ship of adventure, and it was placed in the heavens by Poseidon to help guide sailors traveling the southern seas.

We now have a degree fueled by causes that’s connected the magical ship of adventure, Argo Navis. This connects us directly to the Movie, Jason and the Argonauts (Argo/Argonauts). Jason choses 50 men, the Argonauts, who assist him on his journey to find the Golden Fleece.

For a better understanding of this degree and the placements you have there, it would be helpful to watch this awesome movie.

At the end of the day, the 29/30 degree of Cancer, if we have placements there, can create this heightened sense of purpose. It could have us feeling as Ashman accurately described, fueled by causes. And consider the Sabian Symbol, “A daughter of the American Revolution.” Breaking away from Britain and claiming independence was a cause felt by the people living in the North American Colonies at that time in the 1700s.

Because Cancer is naturally a 4th house sign, and the 4th house governs our home, we all, in a sense, are faced with a journey and fueled by a cause because at some point, we all have to grow up and leave our parents. In order to become independent and create our own lives, we have to leave the home we grew up in.

I hope this helps deepen your understanding of the 29/30 degree of Cancer. I can go deeper and get more in depth for those who are advanced in the field of astrology, but as far a basic understanding is concerned, I think this is appropriate.

Have a great day everyone!

❤🔥♋❤🔥♋❤🔥♋

A Different Approach

Did you ever just feel like you needed to get a hold on time? Sometimes the pace of life is so fast, the days are here and gone before we even know it. The pages of our calendars are flipping one after another, and suddenly, we remind ourselves of the need to slow this thing down. What day is today? What month are we in, and how does what we have going on at the current time fit into the grand designs of our lives?

Well, it’s the first day of April, so I think it’s a good time. The winter left us, and our spring season began about two weeks ago. January, February, and March are gone, and we’re now looking forward to the second quarter of the year, April, May, and June.

Breaking the year down by quarters is a terrific way to plan and make goals for yourself. I like to treat the year like a football game, obviously because a football game has four quarters. Now, remember something, a lot of people blow off the belief that there’s no competition. They say, “That’s tree-hugger stuff man! Life is all about competition!”

Not everyone understands this competition thing. When we say there’s no competition, we’re aware of the self, the individual, and the I Am. You see, I might breakdown the calendar year into quarters, which makes it comparable to football, but life is not game, and I’m not playing.

So, if life is not a game, and you’re not playing, then there’s no competition. What we’re left with is a personal journey for self-discovery, self-improvement, and self-mastery. We are left with the tasks of understanding ourselves, becoming aware of how we process information and relate to those around us, and ultimately, putting our best foot forward. In simple terms, we’re trying to live our best lives. We’re trying to be the best versions of ourselves, and when you’re doing this, you’ll find out eventually that it’s impossible to achieve if you’re competing with the people around you.

Everyone is different.

There’s no competition, but just because life is not a game, and you’re not playing, that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun, laugh, hang out with friends, and go to concerts and ball games. You can! Go out and do all of that stuff. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy your life. Just remember, hanging out with friends and having a social life gives you a break from yourself. It gives you a break from the hard work you require of yourself for yourself.

Before I get into what it means to live your best life, I wanted to discuss winning and loosing. 2023 can be won, and 2023 can be lost. When the end of 2022 arrived, I sat with myself and planned for the year ahead. A new year is a fresh start. Did you win last year? Did you lose last year?

Heading into 2023, I knew what I had to do, and what I needed to change. I set goals for myself, both quarterly and annually. Now, if you’re reading this to understand, and not just skimming, then the light bulb should be flashing at this point because we’re discovering why it really makes sense to say there’s no competition. It’s because it’s about you.

If 2022 was a loss for you, then you’re going to approach 2023 in a different way. You’re going to set new goals for yourself because now you know what you need to do, and what you need to change. Achieving these new goals depends on you doing what you need to do, and making whatever changes you need to make. If you fail to act, or you’re unable to make the necessary changes, then you’ll probably fall short of achieving your goals.

And you can obviously see, none of this has anything to do with competing with others. It’s about you. It’s all about you.

In order for you to win 2023, you’ll have to win more quarters than you lose. I won the first quarter, but if you didn’t, don’t beat yourself up. The second quarter is just beginning.

So, what does it mean to live your best life? What does it mean to become the best version of yourself?

Each and every single person on this earth has a best life. Your best life sits in the center of a maze. It’s a life of fulfillment, happiness, and love. It’s a life of the highest order and of the highest good. It’s a life fitting for you only that can bring about success, fame, wealth, total ruin, and the ability to control and change the people and the environment around you.

The only way you can get to that best life, which is in the center of a maze, is by living day to day as the best version of yourself. That makes sense right?

It’s like trying to open the front door to your house with your car key. In order for you to open that door, you need the proper key.

Everyday we live, we make choices. The choices we make can help us get to where we should be. They can also slow us down, or prevent us from reaching what’s rightfully ours. This is why life is not a game, and this is why I’m not playing. 99% of what’s out here will either slow you down or prevent you from becoming the best version of yourself because the creators of our system know two things:

You were born perfect.
You have to be the best version of yourself to reach your best life.

Alright my friends, have a wonderful night, and a blessed Sunday.