The Light Man is a semi spiritual book that includes a sentimentality of past times and moving to a new state and a new state of being. A new state of being of feeling lighter overall, yet life has its natural heaviness.

I have adapted myself to the new state, including supporting the college football team. I feel at home rather than in a state residence for the sake of process, with processes being seen coldly. Life has improved to some degree, and my path to the light is closer to that light. I have artistic goals in this new state, and the opportunity to transform beyond this current state of being that does not yet, mostly satisfy.

The political times have a political leader named Vladimir Putin. He is a Machiavellian of our age. I don't trust him, and he is certainly not a friend of the United States, but we have leaders that don't garner much interest or when interest is garnered, weakness is shown.

I am the keeper of numerous small items that belonged to all of them. I purchased a sewing kit so my mom could fix some clothes when I visited her at the nursing home. She was like her old self in the olden days. My mom thanked me one day for visiting and taking her outside. It wasn't much by my standards but gold to her. It was a profound moment for me. Poems of my father's possessions will be in my next book.

I have school homework from my sister that was kept by my mom. I connected to my sister when I was in my fifties and after cleaning out the house after my mom went to the nursing home. I looked though all the stuff that said my sister lived rather than saying that she died before I was born.

My full smile is her full smile, my slight smile is her slight smile, and my serious look is her serious look, as she has feminine features of my face. She would have looked like my aunt had she lived. My aunt was a beautiful lady in the photographs of her slimmer youth.

I use the humor of guilt, and the guilt is real, to tell a story with a shinning thought: we are truly free when we are spirit, not body and spirit. The path to that has interactions with my sister and other good spirits and biblical figures that are long dead. I say to my sister, my home on earth is her home as she makes herself at home with her girlfriends and all the noise on some property I own.

John the Baptist was a troublemaker, dumping water on me when I awakened in the morning after I exited my tent. He asks sometime later in the day, through my sister, if he could borrow one of the buckets to baptize within a water supply on my property. I said no. He baptized me with cold water when I needed warmer water. My sister says, that was her. I say, yes John the Baptist could use the bucket.

Alas, a short nine-year-old sister in life, but she is as tall as she needs to be in spirit. Brotherly humor to a sister, jokes of her short stature when she lived.