The gates of ones life are as inevitable as the planets rotation around the Sun. You are born through a gate and just as unexpectedly summoned. Though all our science pretends to predict and explain the progress of life in between, the fact remains that people’s beginnings and endings defy the rules that man’s artifice professes to suggest. How odd that one amasses experience, one adding to another adding collectively, diluting and diversifying until the mixture has created the complexity of reflection within that self. So much so that the ongoing process begins to tax the ability to summon every step along the way. For some the psyche predicts an endless cycle of repeatable circumstances that are authored by the character of that life’s perpetrator. For others it is a linear journey towards and ever changing horizon that remains a goal equally as unreachable at the end of the journey as it was at the occasion of that first step. Truly time does not exist. Only our actions setting off the kinds of vibrations that engender interaction through harmonic reflection. In this sense our experience is totally holographic projection. One can only hope to be ever alert within this eternal present tense and not a prisoner of fragmentary impressions upon a mentally inspired tape loop that becomes ever more frayed with each revolution. It is the past that must die if there is to be any hope or possibility of knowing a future.