In making things end, and in making things start




НазваниеIn making things end, and in making things start
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In making things end, and in making things start,

there is nothing more glorious than keeping still.

- Ancient Chinese text

This book is called Revolution222, and it's about a revolution here in America when a guy named Bob thinks of an idea that changes the world. His idea involves taking responsibility for his own life by creating a "free republic of Boblovia" that answers to nobody and gets its power from the individual.
Bob espouses the idea that taking full responsibility for his life is the only way to personally live, and by doing so, he shows others how to gain control over their lives. It results in a revolution that goes viral, and sweeps across America, changing the way Americans think and live. It is a very beautiful story, written in a narrative style that really hits the reader's imagination. It is full of lucid episodes and intermingling lives and places. It is a very powerful story. Read it, then please tell others about it. It is free for anyone who is interested in how they might make a meaningful change. The eBook is in PDF, HTML, MS Word, and TXT, so anyone anywhere can read it.
In Revolution222, people begin to take time to be still enough, long enough, to know what direction to move in. The direction they travel involves everyone buying into a new dream, discarding this nightmare that we inherited at birth. In the book, we see just that happening, and also the means by which it occurs.

The book explains how each of us can awaken our hearts to new possibilities based on every one of us accepting their own individual sovereignty. We each are a nation of one, choosing to connect with like-minded sovereign individuals who also accept their personal responsibility to be happy.
DON'T BE AFRAID TO BE HAPPY! Revolution222 tells the tale of how a single idea can spread rapidly via the new technologies now available to everyone. 222 - February 22nd., is the call for the Revolution from the Couch; the "Couch Potato Revolution"... the "don't just do something, Sit there!" Revolution.
You can't get everyone to do something, so let's get everyone to do Nothing. Find the place of stillness, the center of the soul and operate from there, fearlessly and from the HEART. Wake up, and experience the moment...this moment forward when we all cast off our chains by accepting our role in all the things that are not right in the world and take on the responsibility to change the world by first changing ourselves.


Back Book Cover:

What If?
What if a single idea, originating from one mind, could change the world? What if all that it took was one person, the right person, awakening to the realization of a new dream? Could it be you? …Would you recognize it when it happened? Bob was gifted with the number 222. What does that mean? Who knows? Bob didn’t, but he found out. In his search he awakened to a new reality, a new way of being, with new eyes, it was a freaking epiphany. One day Bob declared his independence, cast off his shackles and proclaimed his individual sovereignty. He became the Free Republic of Boblovia, a nation of one, free to live in direct connection to his divinity. Another path opens, a path through the don’t just do something, sit there revolution. A revolution of mind and spirit that goes far beyond what we think of as revolution.


Published by Robert Fenstermaker, February 2012

Revolution

222


Table of Contents:


Chapter I Mike introduces us to Bob,

and the Revolution 1

Chapter II Notes from Bob’s walkabout 6

The Real Reality of Money 9

The Meaning of Time 10

Overcoming our Conditioning 18

Finding God as a Child 22


Chapter III Jasmine Hardy’s Story (Part One) 25

222 Movement radio report 37


Chapter IV Colonel Leo Wapple (Part One) 44

Chapter V Jasmine Hardy (Part Two) 46

“Gotta Dance” 48


Chapter VI Colonel Leo Wapple (Part Two) 50


Chapter VII Jasmine Hardy (Part Three) 51

222 Jamboree 55

The Boblovian Address 67

Trip to New York City 71

On the Daily Show 74

David Letterman Show 77

Face the Nation 79

The switch with Badger 83


Chapter VIII Colonel Leo Wapple (Part Three) 87

Leo interrogates Bob 88


Chapter IX Jasmine Hardy (Part Four) 93

222 The Dream 93

Waking up in the Company Town 98

The Feds bust Ozone 100

Jasmine arrested 104


Chapter X Colonel Leo Wapple (Part Four) 106

Boblovian War Plans 107


Chapter XI Jasmine Hardy (Part Five) 108

Jasmine’s interrogation 108

Dallas D. Duncan to the rescue 112


Chapter XII Colonel Leo Wapple (Part Five) 115


Chapter XIII Jasmine Hardy (Part Six) 117

Release of the Little Rock Four 118

Chapter XIV Bob Windowmaker 124

His, Her, Our Story 130

The Evolution Revolution 135

Receiving the Gift of Stillness 141

Grayson Canyon Pueblo to the Stars 148

Bob meets Brooke 153

Welcome to the Noosphere 161

“The Cave” 165

Jasmine’s warning 168


Chapter XV Colonel Leo Wapple (Part Six) 175


Chapter XVI Michael Colton Wayne 181

Jade’s house 183

Mike meets Merlin Sego 191

The Tale of Collier Ford 192

Welcome to Justus Township 198

George MacFarland’s 205

Mike Aloft! 210

Children of the Nation of Heaven 212

Jade’s letter to Bob 219

Arrested on the Reservation 224

Operation NewVision 235

Underground 240


Chapter XVII Jasmine Hardy (Part Seven) 256

Bob Barker re-found 257

Run for the cave 269


Chapter XVIII Colonel Leo Wapple (Part Seven) 273


Chapter XIX Jasmine Hardy (Part Eight) 279

Letter left in the cave 281

I Once Had a Life 283


Chapter XX 222 The Apocalypse 285


For all those who seek answers to their problems from others –


This book represents the idea that the power to change the world is found within each of us. When each of us, as individuals, make the choice to live responsibly and choose to not react to outside fear or stimulus, it can change our lives as individuals and in fact, change the world.


Indeed, it is “externalization” by way of religion, cult, blind faith in others, alcohol, drugs, sports or the State that we become lost and fearful, and are able to be manipulated into doing things out of reactive fear that are against our nature and benefit.


Regardless of how we justify our actions, they are either driven by internal or external forces, the latter only if we allow it. Our choices in these matters create our day-to-day realities and craft our destinies.


Don’t be afraid to be happy!


Chapter I

Bob always said I would write a book about him someday and I guess this is as close as I will ever come to doing that. Let me tell you about Bob. Bob always had something to say no matter the situation or the occasion. He was a rambling train of information careening down the track, screaming ahead into the dark with no light at the front of his engine. Let us give pity to the poor sheep caught standing blindly on the rails. They never saw him coming.

Everyone within Bob’s reach was subject to his relentless expounding on whatever happened to be going through his head at any given moment. His mouth was the loudspeaker for his brain, incessantly broadcasting the instant connections he made in his mind that tied everything into some new unified theory about consciousness and quantum time/space …or, for example, how great it will be when biogenetic technology will be able to give humans a prehensile tail.

“It would make one hell of a conversation piece and I am sure the ladies would love it,” he would explain.

Bob would go on to describe the various sexual attributes a prehensile tail would provide, as well as, the advantage of having a secure drink holder while you drove with two hands on the wheel.

“A safety feature for drunks, for sure,” he said.

Bob delivered this to those around him as if he were giving an important service announcement that must be heard right at that very moment, forcing everyone to put forth an effort to either tune him in, or to tune him out. He was not being rude, only obnoxious in a really smartass, funny way. It certainly did not help his cause to be able to pull thoughts from people’s minds, which he would immediately verbalize without running through the normal social filters the rest of us use in order to be polite and to avoid offending. On the surface, you would just call it stirring up shit and, in most ways, it was. However, I soon learned it was much more than that.

Bob and I used to meet after work for a beer and compare notes on our day. We called it our office, the corner booth. We would goof on the waitresses and talk about women, politics, and religion. Bob always said the three were the same. Maybe I will find that in these journals and be able to share it. It’s difficult for me to picture Bob without a notebook in his hand. He always carried one in his pocket where he jotted down notes in very small letters, filling the pages with words. He logged the dreams he had and he said he dreamed every night. He would make out little spreadsheets of things like pro and con lists of the different ladies in his life and rate and weigh each. I am not sure if he made serious decisions on that information, or was just playing around, probably both.

Bob abhorred decisions. Bob always said when faced with a decision and one of the options was to do nothing, than doing nothing was always the correct decision. He said the time to make a decision is when there is no option of doing nothing. That way, he said, “You are following God’s plan.”

Bob always said “I didn’t get to where I am today by having a Plan.”


Most of us never really knew if Bob was serious and building his theories on facts, or if he was just blowing out ideas like a jazzman laying out chords on a saxophone, riffing out words instead of notes. I know he liked to do both. We had become used to listening to Bob’s line of bullshit, but more often than not, if you listened closely to what he was rambling about, and had a clue about the subject, you would get a sense that he was drawing from some deep and abstract well, as if his mind was connected to some unseen source …the Bullshit River, I called it. However, one day it stopped being bullshit, and for that, I take some responsibility.

It was about a year and a half ago and Bob was wrapping up another rant about a really grand-unifying –how mind, brain, big brother, who is John Galt, we’re all slaves to the corporation, but is all okay cause all you have to do is sit there and do nothing tirades. I remember many times thinking what do you do when your closest friend of forty years is losing his mind, and on the other hand, thinking that here is an amazing genius sharing glimpses into worlds we could never find ourselves. It really seemed like a coin flip between the two.

“That’s it, Mike! That’s what it’s all about. Don’t do anything. Just stop and it all changes instantly.” As the words faded from his lips, he clapped his hands once loudly, did a Buddha bow at the waist, and then straightened up slowly, all the time silently smiling at me.

Breaking the silence, I said, “Maybe you should start believing your own bullshit, Bob.”

I didn’t see any light bulbs go off over his head, but I watched his eyes narrow for a moment and then his head started appropriately enough, to bob.

In almost a whisper, he breathed. “You’re fucking right, Mike. It really is as simple as that. I believe that’s exactly what I need to do.”

It seemed as if I had provided the missing piece to the puzzle that he had worked on assembling his entire life. I see now it was more as if I had given a direct order that set in motion a great plan, for the lack of any better words, a plan of revolution and spiritual reform of the likes seldom seen in history. Wow. Whichever it was, from that point on, all things did change.


It just struck me. Here I am writing about Bob when it is becoming hard to believe there is anyone left on the planet that hasn’t yet heard of Bob and already formulated some opinion and belief in who Bob is, and what Bob means. So, here I sit at the turn of the new year like the rest of humanity, waiting and wondering if 222, February 22, will bring everything to a grinding halt as a result of Bob’s Revolution from the Couch.

Another thing strikes me. The words that I am putting to paper now could someday be as important as anything anyone has ever written. Having known Bob for most of my life, puts me in a unique position to tell the world how all of this has come about. In one sense, I feel a little bit like the Apostles, telling a personal firsthand account of the life of the Messiah, or like Saint Paul, setting out the fundamentals of a new religious order. Actually, I think I feel more like Winston Smith, the character out of Orwell’s, 1984, or as Bob would sometimes sarcastically call it, ‘The Road Map to Freedom.’ I guess having the agents in black visit on too many occasions will do that to a person.

Given this, I suppose I shouldn’t have been too surprised when I turned on the television last fall and saw that my friend Bob was the most hunted man on the planet.

Bob always said, “Everything, I mean everything you see on television is controlled and contrived in order to deliver a specific message, usually to a very specific audience.”

Well, as far as I can tell, the message being delivered here is twofold. One, you wouldn’t want to be in this man’s shoes if they capture him, and two, you will get killed for preaching peace and love quicker that a dying Gandhi can utter the word Ram.


Looking at what I have on paper so far, I see that I have been writing about Bob in the past tense when at the time I am writing this, he is still very much alive, at least according to the last news update from northern New Mexico. Nonetheless, I have been thinking of Bob in the past tense ever since I last saw him late last summer. The Bob I knew, and had expected to meet, was not the same Bob I met that day. He had completely transformed.

I was surprised when I received the message last September to meet with him in Oklahoma City at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building Memorial since the media had reported, only a few days before, that Federal agents had arrested Bob. The symbolism of the meeting location was apparent, as was the date, September 11th.

“Just in case ‘they’ are watching, it gives them something to think about,” Bob explained.

Bob viewed our meeting here in the same way that he viewed his flipping off a ‘donut eater’ behind a security camera by pushing his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. Bob always liked to find ways to mess with the establishment. Of course, always within the confines of the law, which for a guy like Bob, gave plenty of room to do as he would say, “Pervert the dominant paradigm,” or as he sometimes referred to it as, “Fucking them in the ass when they ain’t looking.” It was really much more than that though. It was as if his mission in life was to point out the blatantly obvious, the obvious fact that no man holds status over another man. This made Bob appear, shall I say, rebellious at times. After all, why does a man paint his aluminum sided house, comfortably nestled among nearly identical homes in a small working class neighborhood in desert storm camouflage? The embassy markings, complete with little flags on the fenders of his Honda was a nice touch, as was his declaration of himself to be the Sovereign and Independent State of Boblovia.

Not knowing exactly what to expect at our meeting, I was very surprised to see him alone without his entourage of the weird, which we were so accustomed to seeing on the news, or as they call themselves, the Confederation. I was also surprised to see a casually well-dressed, clean cut, middle-aged man, not the scraggly-bearded, longhaired, wild-eyed holy man I had last seen on the cover of Time’s Man of the Year edition. He looked to be in great shape.

“Lost all the excess baggage,” he exclaimed. “It’s really unbelievable how much of it we carry around with us.”

The smile was the same old Bob; however, the eyes belonged to a new man, and this man’s eyes were looking deeply into mine. To be honest, I was a little frightened. I had been prepared to meet the Emperor of Boblovia, or my old friend Bob, both being the same. Instead, I met someone that can best be described as being so incredibly at ease with himself, that those around him were immediately affected. Fact that. I was there.


To describe accurately the extent of Bob’s transformation, and to understand the events of my meeting with Bob, I need to take this story back several years. Fortunately, I have Bob’s personal papers and journals in my possession. He gave them to me to hold on to when he went on his ‘walkabout.’ As soon as I returned from Oklahoma, I started to organize them and the notebooks he gave me, and I think I now have them stashed safely away. Without them, I would have been lost as to where to start. The good thing is I think what Bob left me does a good job of speaking for him in his own words, and I am doing my best to put them in some logical order. Some of this stuff goes far back and includes papers that he wrote in school, letters to and from friends and lovers, along with old photos, grade school report cards and much more. I think I have the whole archive, with the exception of one of the notebooks he gave me in Oklahoma City. Damn if I didn’t lose the one notebook that I gave him a long time ago for his birthday.

Trying to pin down when all of Bob’s troubles started is tough. It’s like saying mother’s milk leads to heroin. Bob was undoubtedly on some sort of path to God only knows where, but things really started to change for him last year around the time he had a nervous breakdown.

I remember when Bob first told me he was going to fake his own nervous breakdown. The funny thing about that is, he couldn’t fake shit. I knew he really was having a nervous breakdown, but unlike most, Bob had to be in control even when he wasn’t. Make sense? Here is how I see it. Bob really was breaking down; in fact, he had been breaking down gradually over some time, over many years. It was almost by design. I am not sure if he was absolutely certain that he would eventually succumb to his nervous breakdown or not; nonetheless, he wanted to be as prepared as possible for what might be his inevitable insanity by practicing being insane daily. I really think he wanted everyone to believe he was crazy, and he spent many years proving just that to all of us. This way he would eventually have a plausible cover enabling his nervous breakdown to serve as an excuse, or alibi, for his subsequent actions.

It’s like planning to kill someone with the intention of pleading insanity and being so clever as to have everyone convinced years in advance of your insanity before even picking the victim and initiating the heinous act, thereby, completing the perfect crime. This wasn’t much different from the way he approached most things in his life. I know that everything played out in his head in every conceivable scenario before he acted upon anything. It was like the many universe theory that he was always going off about. Bob always said that he controlled his own destiny and created his own reality. Of course, it might be that he planned on going crazy as part of some greater, grander mystery, to what end, we may never know.

So, when I dropped Bob off on that dusty gravel road that bright early spring morning, I knew he had finally lost his mind …exactly as he had planned it. By all measures of society, he was crazy. How else could you describe it? Here was a man not in the best of health, bailing out of a twenty-five year successful career, comfort and love all around him, success, fortune, and fame becoming him, and he walks away, literally walks away, as if he had no care in the world, no definite destination, no plan of arrival. Communicating nothing, zilch.

“I am just going to take a walk,” he said. “See you around.” Off he went with a backpack loaded with all kinds of gadgets and gear too heavy for anyone but an experienced hiker to carry. He’ll be back in a day or two, I thought. He just needs to get away.

Chapter II
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