Frequency Shift: A Metaphysical Exchance (part 4)

Frequency Shift:
A Metaphysical Exchance
(part 4)

Magic and Miracles follow me everywhere I go. You can ask around if you don’t believe me. I’m am using the Alchemist in me to create new things. Life is an adventure designed to teach us all how to turn energy into things we need. Bad energy can be converted into good and then changed into substance. On the other side, good energy can be used for greed and other thoughtless acts which will create great future interference and struggle. This is my mantra for today: Magic and Miracles follow me everywhere I go. Magic and Miracles follow me everywhere I go.

I learned from one of my all time favorite family members a quick way to silence your thoughts. I know it sounds impossible, especially to those who understand meditation and how important it is to have control over our thoughts in times of stress, but it is not impossible. It requires asking yourself a question.

“Who a I?” Ask yourself this question honestly and you will find yourself in a truly quiet moment.

These rare moments of silence are important and hard to achieve, but through this question, asked honestly, you will find a quiet that is not artificial or forced.

Don’t be too concerned if people learn about you meditating or laugh at the idea that thoughts can really create something real. Just because they don’t think like you or value your vision doesn’t mean they won’t benefit from your quiet times. Remember that nno matter how magnificent the sun truly is, people still complain about it. What is more importantly, is that you practice this thought: how will this serve me?

How will the new information you learn from meditating, they new information you learn abobut yourself, make you into a better person?  Only you must accept who you are. 100% acceptance of who you are is the beginning of understanding how you are creating your own reality.

What did you think about when you closed you eyes to meditate?
What was the first scene you saw floating before your eyes when you tried to shut everything out?
Who’s voice did you hear first?
What did they say?
Who were they speaking to?
How did it make you feel?
What memory do you have of meditating yesterday?

These questions will help you put your thoughts in order, help you understand what is always lurking behind the scenes putting “ideas”into your head, and it’ll show you a better layout of the map you have to navigate to bring a thought you “want” to have to the front of your mind. And once you have a better idea of what is in your mind, you will have a better idea of why certain things are in your life.

Yesterday I hung out with my brother and we had a long discussion on why people act a certain way towards people. We shared personal stories and how we should interpret other people’s actions towards ourselves. We came to the conclusion that we don’t see the other person’s feelings. Instead we see their actions and hear their words, but we don’t really know what they are feeling. And this void is very important to us as people. To know what people feel is to know why they acted a certain way. So, what does our brain do in order to fill in the blank?  It replaces the unknown with a “known” and tries to figure out what the action means.

The important thing about living our lives and being the best version of ourselves we can be, is knowing that what someone else thinks doesn’t matter. What I think of myself is the most important thought we could ever have the answer to.

So ask yourself: Who am I?
Do it today when you sit own to meditate and enjoy the silence.

Frequency Shift: a metaphysical exchange (part 1)

Change will not come if we wait for somebody else or some other time. You are the one you’ve been waiting for. You are the change that you seek and desire.

I feel I should share a piece of my thinking with everyone. Some people might think I’m a bit egotistic to think this way, but here goes. “We can never lose, and we can never win, because we are the trophy. We are the prize we are striving for every single day and night.” Now when you begin to think this though, remember there is something we often forget. Remember this: our job in this life is to become the best version of ourself. Now, how can you become the best version of you? Do you know what being in your “heart space” is about? I don’t know more than you, I am just another person trying to figure out this whole process of “waking and sleeping.” I am learning that we, as humans, are the original technology and in learning this I know I can change the reality of my surroundings. I realize that this sounds crazy to others, but if you know me you know that I do have the power to manifest anything I put my mind too — even accidently. I use words, thoughts, and actions to change my frequency. Have you ever tried to change yours?

 

A Band of Black (part 5)

A Band of Black

part 5

by Thadd Presley

“So, you were talking about psychedelic mushrooms, right?” He nodded. “I can’t wait to try one. I mean, I’ve heard of them for years, but never had the opportunity and I’ve always wanted to have a natural trip.”

Ozzy was watching me closely when I spoke. So close that it had an effect on my thinking. I realized, it was my accent that made him have to pay close attention to what I was saying.

“Psychedelic mushrooms are perfectly natural, aren’t they?”

“Yes, natural. Nick has an organic set up.”

“We have all the acid and ecstasy anyone could ever want back home, but no mushrooms. I’m sure with Nick at the helm of my trip through America.” I smiled.

“Pun intended,” Ozzy chimed in.

I knew we would get along. “I’m sure I’ll get a taste of my first American party, soon enough.”

“But first you should rested and meet a few more people.” He walked further into the house.

It was obvious that Ozzy was going to take me on the tour. And the first place he stopped was a poster hanging on the wall. This place was paradise. And just as all others, it had rules that had to be followed.

On the wall, written in large black letters was the “House Rules” followed by seven serious rules. The rules were written on a large piece of cardboard and sticky-taped to the beautiful marble walls of the foyer. It all seemed funny. The cardboard on marble was like a joke, but Ozzy’s body language and tone in his voice told me otherwise.

I glanced over the rules and smiled. All of them seemed sensible. Well, almost all of them. I had no intention of breaking any of them. Two of the rules stuck out immediately as probably not as important as the rest. Rule #3 was “No Females Allowed in the House” and Rule #7 “No Alcohol in the House.” I was surprised at these rules, but said nothing.

Ozzy did not read them to me. I’m sure he didn’t want to come across as one who lays down the law. It was as if he were saying “The rules are right there and if you are a wise man you will heed them.” Then, he opened the foyer door and continued the tour.

We walked from the marble foyer into a larger, more beautiful room where a stunning staircase rose gracefully from the floor up and up to an open, second story landing bordered only by a lovely and dainty wood and iron handrail.

Ozzy spoke in a normal volume, explaining how Nick was currently responsible for the house and essentially had become King of the Castle until Fall Semester, but as we passed from the marble foyer into the open room, the size of the room caused his voice to fall to a hushed whisper. The foyer door closed silently behind us and a quiet calm came over me

It was a feeling that told me I was in the right place for once, that coming to America had been the right choice.

I slipped my shoes off before walking onto the carpet. Although I’d never removed my shoes at the door at my own home and did occasionally when it seemed necessary at someone’s home. This house was different. It demanded respect. It was built and arrayed with upper-class values and manners in mind.

I asked Ozzy to tell me again how Nick had come into such a nice place and he laughed. “Yeah, crazy as hell, but it’s Nick’s for the summer. He’s fallen into graces with the Frat. The Alumni love and have high hopes for him. It was their decision to have him come to Tennessee.He has lived here since day one. When summer came and most of the student were leaving, the council voted him as a temporary Sargeant at Arms to watch over the house. Trust me, he’s got his hands full. It’s more of a curse than a blessing.”

“And he’s going to school?”

“Of course, he’s taking a full load. Chemistry and Physics and Botany. That where he got the strains for the mushrooms. It’s all done through the University as research. He’s growing them for use in the labs.”

“Just like back home. He’s always had this way of getting things other people could only dream about having.”

“Yeah, you’re pal Nick is smart as hell.  He came over here and took over the frat house and is now teacher’s pet to most of the important professors. He blows my freakin’ mind man.”

Ozzy was ahead of me and heading for the the stairs and I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell he was smiling.

Once we got to the top of the stairs, he pointed to a closed door. “That is your’s and Nick’s room. He wanted to bunk with you like in the old times back in…”  He thought.  “Where did you guys come from?”

“Wales.”

“No man, I mean, what town?”

“Oh, we grew up in different places. He is from Dartford, close to London, and I’m from Eastbourne, close to the Channel.” I opened the door and looked into the room. A set of bunk beds were against one wall. “Yeah, it’ll be just like old times. We slept in bunk beds while we were in a school.”

“You had beds at school?”

“It was a boy’s school. We lived there.”

He smiled again. “We call it reform school here.”

“No, no. It weren’t nothing like that. In England some of the children go away for school and stay until they end of the year. It’s like private school.” I looked around, noticing a pile of dirty clothes crammed into the front of a drum set. “Where is Nick now?”

“Um, today is Thursday, so he’s in school most of the day. He has at least one class everyday, except Tuesdays. But, he’ll be home in a few hours.”

I walked into the room and he didn’t. “Look, if I were you, I’d get some rest. You’ll need it to be ready for when the group gets home. I’ll show you the rest of the house later.” He turned to leave, but quickly turned back. “And remember, Tuesdays are band practice. So be ready.”

Band of Black: part 4

A Band of Black

(part 4)

by Thadd Presley

I stepped out of the cab in front of a huge, two story estate complete with four high-rising pillars and a circle drive big enough for ten cars. It was a brick house with six tall windows on the second story and eight on the ground floor. Eleven wide, concrete steps lead up to the front door where Ozzy was standing.

He had just opened the door when the cab came to a stop.

I imagined him looking down from one of the second floor windows at the immaculate yard when the yellow cab turned into the driveway.

Now we stood face to face and his smile was beautiful.

I already knew his name was Gerald Osbourne, but everyone called him Ozzy. I shook his hand and thanked him for meeting me.

“You have luggage?” He pointed to the car. “If not, he’ll still want a tip.”

“Not much. I have a little in the boot.”

“Money to boot or a trunk full of money?”

I looked at him confused.

He smiled. “My, you Australians really know how to…”

“No, not money, just a bit of luggage.” I walked to the boot, which was opening, and removed my bag. I then quickly walked to the driver’s window and handed the driver the fare and turned away. He drove away, knowing to keep the extra for himself.

“And not Australian, although I do appreciate you meeting me. Seems Nick has forgotten his manners.” I took a step back, now that the cab had gone, and looked up at the second floor windows. “This is truly a beautiful place.”

“It belongs to the University. Nick totally knows how to talk to these authoritarian types. He’s got the run of this place for the summer.” Then he looked at me again. He was certainly a beautiful man. He had perfect white teeth, blonde hair, a real tan, and blue eyes. It was so American of him. “It’s really good to finally meet you. Nick has told us so much that we feel like you are already part of the family.”

“That’s great of you to say. I’ve been quite nervous about all this.You really wouldn’t believe the emotions I’ve had.”

“Hold on!” Ozzy said loudly.

“Sorry?”

“No, no. Noel.” He pointed to his ear. “Sara is on the line and I…” He put up his hands as if in frustration. “Sara, you just made me yell at Noel and he’s trying to tell me about his emotions.”

He listened.

“Yeah, he’s right down your street.”

He listened and when he did I faintly heard Sara’s voice.

“He’s here in front of me and I’m trying to give him…” A moment of silence passed, while Sara’s tiny voice continued. Then he caught a second and spoke. “Yeah, well these English folk need to be greeted properly and you are interrupting our chat.”

It was then that I noticed a small black and blue plastic piece in his ear. It was smaller than a hearing aid.

“Sara says ‘hello Noel’ to you and you can’t kiss anyone. She says that she wants to give you the first kiss you get in America.”

I smiled trying to be cool, as if this was just another part of being me, but I felt my cheeks getting hot.

“And,” Ozzy continued, “don’t eat the ‘shrooms before she gets to properly introduce herself.”

I was beginning to feel very self-conscious. I didn’t know where to put my hands or where to look. I picked up my bag and set it back down again. I couldn’t help but wonder how she really felt about me.

“She says she wants you to play for her.”

“Play what?”

“Hell, I don’t know. The national anthem I guess.” He shook his head at me. “Look, I’m not being the messenger between you two.”

I heard her tiny voice raise a bit and then laugh. Ozzy joined in.

“You’ll have to wait until you see him to tell him that.”

I was extremely happy that Sara wanted to see me, but I didn’t want it to show, so I looked up at the house again. It was really a mansion.

“Sara wants to know if you will really play for her. The piano. She says please.”

“Yeah, but how did she know?” I began t ask, but I didn’t need an answer. I knew Nick told her.

“He says he will. Now I’m going.”

He listened.

“Yes, I will. Now, his majesty needs to be shown to his room.” There was another pause. “You can tell him all of that yourself. Bye. Do it when you get here. Bye.”

I didn’t see any obvious way he disconnected with Sara, but I could see the relief on his face. When he began speaking to me, it was in his normal voice again. “Ok,” he said, “I’m supposed to keep you off the ‘shrooms and show you around the house a bit. So, first we are going to the room where you can reset your jet lag.”

“Shrooms?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Ozzy smiled. “Oh, yeah.”

“Are they any good?”

“I’ll put it this way. Everything here is good. This has been the best summer I’ve ever had and it’s just beginning. We have some really great gigs coming up and with you on bass.” He smiled again, showing his teeth. “I hear you can really play the hell out of a bass.”

“I picked up a few things here and there.”

“So I’ve heard. Oh, and just so you know, the band is me, Nick, Sara and you. In case you’re asked, you’re not replacing anyone. Just come on board and do what you do. The band is called ‘Black’ but the fans usually referred to us as ‘A Band of Black.”

“I like that better, actually.”

“You do, do you?”

“Yes,” I said as a matter of fact.  I had a great reason to push against using “Black” as a band name. It was mine and Nick’s old band name, from our punk days in London and it didn’t seem right to use the name again. Of course, I didn’t tell Ozzy this small piece of history.

“Well, Nick wants the band to be called ‘Black’ and you know how Nick is when he wants something.”

Yes, I did know. I also knew that I liked ‘A Band of Black’ better than the one word. But I simply nodded and smiled, allowing the moment to pass without further comment, and followed him through the door and into the fraternity house.

Band of Black (part 3)

 

 

Band of Black:

(Part 3)

by Thadd Presley

In the Yellow cab on the way to Nick’s house on Park Place, I asked the driver to take me through downtown. He looked in his rear view mirror at me with a puzzled look. I didn’t know what the look meant.

“Which downtown?  You want the pretty part or the ugly part of town?”

“Oh, I see, yes. I want to see the places everyone parties.”

“Gotcha.”

He took me through the Old City and up Neyland Drive describing some of the landmarks, local heroes like Pat Summit and Phillip Fulmer. The first thing I noticed was how old Victorian-style mansions sat next to small country style farmhouse and right across the road a hacienda. As we got closer to the University the size of the houses got bigger. Immaculate neighborhood with tree in the lawns and forests along the roads.  The driver explained to me that the fraternity houses were spread through the community. I told him this particular house I was looking for was Psi Omicron Zeta. He knew exactly where it was.

I didn’t like being forgotten at the airport, but a feeling passed over to me, at that moment in the cab, watching the houses pass by the window, that I was in for a really good time. Possibly being forgotten had given me the opportunity to learn something about Knoxville and realize that the rest of my life was just beginning. Although the future was taking on an unknown quality, it was exactly what I wanted.

The April air was warmer in Tennessee than in Wales, so I had the window down and spring was in the air.

I was anxious to see Nick again and also to meet his friends, but there was one aspect of this visit that I’ve tried not to focus on to much. Her name was Sara.

My first reason for being in America was to sit in with the band and there was no doubt I could pull it off given the chance to learn the music. From what I’d seen just from the cab ride over, I reckoned there would be a copious amount of drugs and women provided.

Atleast, it was the usual unspoken musician’s deal, no matter what country. But, that wasn’t the only reason. Just as important as seeing my friend and playing in his band, I was finally going to see Sara in the flesh.

If it wouldn’t have been for her and the possibility of meeting her, I probably wouldn’t have come to America at all. You see, I secretly wanted to play for her and I couldn’t wait to get the chance
I’d corresponded with her through Facebook a few times and talked with her during a couple phone calls I’d had with Nick. She was a very smart woman and I liked her immediately. Even though, she told me she loved my English accent, I never told her how I felt about her and that I wanted to know her better.

I’d instantly fell in love with her smile and her sweet giggle.
She told me once, while we waited for Nick to get the phone, that she would love to date a man who could play a piano. My heart melted in my chest and I thanked God, my mother, and Mrs. Wilkerson for making me practice for two hours every other day and thirty minutes a night for six years.

I almost told Sara that very night that I had a surprise for her. But, I didn’t want to give myself away.

Maybe, I would be her dream guy.

I felt we were soul mates.

Band of Black (part 2)

Band of Black  (part 2)

by Thadd Presley

Nick was my best best friend. We grew up together in a small Wales village. He moved to Knoxville, Tennessee last year on an educational exchange program just after he started his first semester in Bangor University. He wrote me once he got settled in America and told me all about the fraternity house he’d been staying in and the friends he’d made. He even told me about the new band he’d started and seemed to be boasting about all his good fortune.

I took the letter all wrong and it made me mad. The more I thought about it, the more offended I became. His new band, his amazing luck, his friends this and that. It was more than I could take. Living in a mansion filled with half naked girls and I’m still at home giving guitar lessons to twelve year old boys.

I was mad to the point my hands trembled. Tears were in my eyes.

I’d lost my friend and my band mate to this great fortunate turn of events.

These emotion quickly turned when I got near the end of the letter and he finally got around to inviting me to America. Saying in his letter that: We would join forces again and it would be like the old days.
America! I was going to America. I couldn’t believe it. The ticket would be waiting at the airport. Tears were in my eyes.

The switch of emotion from rage to elation was too much for me and for the first time in my life I had to sit down before falling over. I was so over come with sensation my legs were actually weak.
I only wished Nick could see me. What a picture it would make. His oldest friend collapsed in a chair laughing and crying at the same time. If only he could see me now.

After a moment, I put the letter to the side and just sat in the chair. My imagination took me to America. Floating before my eyes was a new city, a new stage, a new crowd of people. It was overwhelming at the least.

What would the University of Tennessee be like? Did they have a good football team?  It would be American football of course. But, the local bars downtown might be the same and the crowd inside would be wanting to hear music.

Would it be anything like London’s music scene? I couldn’t imagine a club like Heaven being in Knoxville, but there might be a place like Barfly and Nick.

No matter, though, because I was going to find out for myself and Nick said his band was doing well.

So, I was going to America. I’ll play bass with Nick on the drums and everything will be just as it was before.

Before Nick left for Bangor, our band had quite a reputation in London. We were practically local punk celebrities. Many times after playing a show, I find our names spray painted on the sidewalk and walls outside the venue. The clubs didn’t seem to mind.

The letter from Nick arrived in my post in January, but it wasn’t until April that I actually leave for America.

In my heart, I was still jealous. I couldn’t imagine, after all the time Nick and I had spent together, after all the music played together, and all the time sitting in my dad’s garage, listening to records, playing until our fingers bled, that he could replace me. I remember many mornings, sun barely poking above the sea to find us arguing over fingering patterns, push each other to stretch our minds and incorporate more than fifths, but to play seconds, ninths, and flattened eleventh chords. It hurt my feelings that he was happily jamming with other people. There’s a ritual to music, it was sacred and magical, and for him to practice our sacred witchcraft with others was almost unforgivable.

In the same thoughts, I couldn’t help but wonder what was his new band like or if the would like me?

These questions would continue to haunt my days and nights until the day I met them in person. And there was also the point of them knew that I was coming and all the questions being reversed upon them. Were they wondering the same about me.

Although that was a distraction, it didn’t make waiting any easier.

In a sense I was scared of them.  All I could imagine were cowboys and Hooters girls with attitudes much larger than they needed to be.

So, needless to say, I was reluctant and nervous to meet them. I worried about it and dreamed about how terrible it would go everyday. I was worked up into a frenzy.

On the day I was to board the plane, I hesitated.

I questioned my responsibilities.

I had been working in a London studio four days a week laying down bass tracks for various groups. It was the best playing gig I’d had all year and it was a steady gig.

I could see myself staying. I was so close to not going.

That morning I went into to work.

The entire place was surprised to see me. They knew I was going to America, so question came from every direction.

Nine A.M. came and a band called The Stevenage Three came through the door.

They took their time setting up and I noticed the guitarist had a rare guitar. For a moment, I watched him and I could feel the magic on coming off of him. I went into the studio and began to set up my gear, which only took a second.

My back was to him and he hit a note, then played a riff, then the music filled the room. It was true magic. The notes set me on fire. They made me want to be in front of an audience again. The keyboard joined in, driving the music up another dimension.

I realized in that moment that I need my own band. I would soon get bored with the studio schedule and be on the street alone. I needed to move on for my own good. I had to have a band again.

A rolling stone gathers no mass and all that, I told myself.

In truth, I think I wanted to see my best friend more than anything.

So, I laid two tracks for the band and at lunch I quit.

The studio head, who I’d only met three times before, Emmett Barrett, came down stairs and shook my hand. “You’ll be back, my boy. And I want you to come back. Do it when you’re ready and bring your band with you. We’ll cut a track that tops the charts. Now, take this.” In is hand he had an envelope. “Go get some lunch, then go see America.”

With his blessing, I went home to pack. I didn’t look in the envelope until I got home.     Inside was five hundred Euros and a letter of introduction to a studio in Nashville.

The next morning, I was 35,000 feet in the air on my way to Tyson McGee airport where Nick would meet me at the gate.

I couldn’t wait to see him again.

Band of Black: part 1

A Band in Black

by

Thadd Presley

When I came to the United States for a week, Nick was supposed to be waiting for me at the airport.  I crossed the Atlantic Ocean by myself. A metal head from Sweden was my row companion. He had a good mind and we spoke on everything from music to world events, but I was relieved to hear the captain inform us the flight was just about to end. I watched as the mountains passed below us. They were more rolling hills than mountains. Once you’ve seen the Alps, you’ll understand what I mean.
As Knoxville came into view below me, a display of lighted streets and buildings broke broke over the mountains. Again, it wasn’t London or Paris, but after the all darkness it was beautiful.
The musician, whose name was Heinrick, exited the plane directly behind me and once we were on the tarmac, asked if I would like a CD of his band to which I said yes and thank you. He rummaged through a small carry on backpack and handed me a CD and a wristband. I thanked him, but he waved his hand and thanked me back, saying it was his first time in America that his band was about to officially begin their North American tour. I thanked him for the gifts again, silently wishing I had something to give him. After all, I was in a band as well.

Black was a London based rock group I’d started with my friend Nick. We just hadn’t played together since he left for school in the States. My short vacation to see him was going to change all of that.
I made it through customs with only a limited sexual encounter with a large black lady. Her hand actually touched my package and moved it to the side while she left into my pocket. And it wasn’t just a passing brush. She actually moved it over. I thought for a minute there would be more to it, but by then it was over.  As I stood around the pick up area for my two bags, I reflected on the security nod I received in London and realized I could have brought anything onto the plane with me. But, the game would have ended in Knoxville. The search was so thorough, my ink pen was taken from my jacket pocket and screwed apart, the contents emptied on a tray.
“You weren’t supposed to have this on the plane,” she said and it seemed like a warning. As if I knew better and did it anyway. I held back the urge to make an excuse.

No attempt was made to put my pen back together. The tray was pushed to the side for me to deal with how I wanted.

It was two hours later, when I realized I’d have to make my own way to The University of Tennessee and find the fraternity house. I walked up to a cab sitting in front of the terminal, cursing Nick for forgetting about me, and began my journey down Interstate 40.