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FIX IT: A Basic Guide to Your Spiritual Health
97 pages, Paperback
Published January 11, 2021
About the author
Desmond Knipe
12 books98 followersThe first few paragraphs of my latest book, please enjoy. If you are available for an ARC, let me know.
NAMUH Book 1: The Awakening
August 8th, in the not-so-distant future, just before dawn.
In a remote rain forest on the North Island of New Zealand, overlooking the constantly moving ocean, stands a very large, very old Kauri tree. The air is cool and wet, the drizzling rain briefly interrupted by the thick green canopy high above the forest floor. There, it gathers into larger droplets, preparing for the forty-metre plunge to the earth below.
Covered in an immensely dense layer of wet moss, this tree trunk is fifteen metres in diameter. The trunk towers steeply upward, void of any branches for the full forty metres, before strong, thick branches, holding dark green foliage, erupt haphazardly from the trunk to form the tree’s canopy. Above: Towering above the rest of the forest are the uppermost branches of this tree.
Many trees similar to this magnificent specimen, in forests worldwide, have died off in recent years. Humanity’s lack of understanding, no, humanity’s inaction to rectify the damage they have inflicted on the planet is the cause. Climate change, land clearing and ecosystem poisoning are but a few of the prime culprits.
This area of the forest remains mainly unaffected by the drastic climate changes affecting the planet. Aside from experiencing slightly hotter days and cooler nights, the forest ecosystem continues as it has for eons.
Long before humanity crawled out from the primordial ooze, the life-giving growing medium dirt beneath the forest floor was already preparing itself to be the major supporting instrument for this forest now towering above it.
Five people approach from different paths within the forest, the wet deadfall and moss beneath their feet muffling any sound their steps might make.
The steady bombardment of the forest floor by large droplets falling from the canopy above is deafening—especially in the absence of the usual forest sounds: no frog song, no foraging kiwis scratching, no hooting owls.
Both pant legs on Michael’s jeans are completely saturated from the almost consistent contact with the widely spaced ferns on the forest floor. He grimaces as he feels the moisture from the bottom half of his pants make its way down to the top of the thick woollen socks inside his newly acquired hiking boots.
Just one week earlier, he had been fastening metal G-clamps to three men’s ball sacks, duct-taping their naked bodies to three metal swivel stools and connecting the lot, to a power supply capable of delivering life-ending amounts of electricity. At least he had been dry.
Michael hated being in wet clothing-; it made him feel claustrophobic. He would often change out of sweat-infested clothing whilst working. It upset him deeply; he utterly hated the way any type of wet clothing would just cling to his skin.
Michael keeps the forward momentum of his stride going, soon forgetting again the wetness of his clothing, the fatigue in his leg muscles, and the pain from his sprained ankle, which had occurred just as he left the designated walking trail about thirty minutes prior.
He still cannot understand why he is forcing himself to take this early morning bush walk on his birthday. Michael also hates his birthday, and he thinks that maybe it is to take his mind off their deaths.
A grotesque scene manifests inside his mind, six bloodied bodies lying on the ground, their faces no longer recognisable, next to pools of their congealed blood.
Michael feels the tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly wipes them away and again focuses on his next step.
NAMUH Book 1: The Awakening
August 8th, in the not-so-distant future, just before dawn.
In a remote rain forest on the North Island of New Zealand, overlooking the constantly moving ocean, stands a very large, very old Kauri tree. The air is cool and wet, the drizzling rain briefly interrupted by the thick green canopy high above the forest floor. There, it gathers into larger droplets, preparing for the forty-metre plunge to the earth below.
Covered in an immensely dense layer of wet moss, this tree trunk is fifteen metres in diameter. The trunk towers steeply upward, void of any branches for the full forty metres, before strong, thick branches, holding dark green foliage, erupt haphazardly from the trunk to form the tree’s canopy. Above: Towering above the rest of the forest are the uppermost branches of this tree.
Many trees similar to this magnificent specimen, in forests worldwide, have died off in recent years. Humanity’s lack of understanding, no, humanity’s inaction to rectify the damage they have inflicted on the planet is the cause. Climate change, land clearing and ecosystem poisoning are but a few of the prime culprits.
This area of the forest remains mainly unaffected by the drastic climate changes affecting the planet. Aside from experiencing slightly hotter days and cooler nights, the forest ecosystem continues as it has for eons.
Long before humanity crawled out from the primordial ooze, the life-giving growing medium dirt beneath the forest floor was already preparing itself to be the major supporting instrument for this forest now towering above it.
Five people approach from different paths within the forest, the wet deadfall and moss beneath their feet muffling any sound their steps might make.
The steady bombardment of the forest floor by large droplets falling from the canopy above is deafening—especially in the absence of the usual forest sounds: no frog song, no foraging kiwis scratching, no hooting owls.
Both pant legs on Michael’s jeans are completely saturated from the almost consistent contact with the widely spaced ferns on the forest floor. He grimaces as he feels the moisture from the bottom half of his pants make its way down to the top of the thick woollen socks inside his newly acquired hiking boots.
Just one week earlier, he had been fastening metal G-clamps to three men’s ball sacks, duct-taping their naked bodies to three metal swivel stools and connecting the lot, to a power supply capable of delivering life-ending amounts of electricity. At least he had been dry.
Michael hated being in wet clothing-; it made him feel claustrophobic. He would often change out of sweat-infested clothing whilst working. It upset him deeply; he utterly hated the way any type of wet clothing would just cling to his skin.
Michael keeps the forward momentum of his stride going, soon forgetting again the wetness of his clothing, the fatigue in his leg muscles, and the pain from his sprained ankle, which had occurred just as he left the designated walking trail about thirty minutes prior.
He still cannot understand why he is forcing himself to take this early morning bush walk on his birthday. Michael also hates his birthday, and he thinks that maybe it is to take his mind off their deaths.
A grotesque scene manifests inside his mind, six bloodied bodies lying on the ground, their faces no longer recognisable, next to pools of their congealed blood.
Michael feels the tears welling up in his eyes. He quickly wipes them away and again focuses on his next step.
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