Speaker 1: You like making discoveries right? How about Arrow dot net
aarre dot net not a podcast but a podcast network,
twenty different podcasts to choose from. Like street Speak with
Alexa and Clarence. It's one man, a Hugh Man having
a conversation with AI technology. What are the comparisons? Do
they have anything to compare with Alexa and Clarence? Street
Speak on Ero dot net, r r Oe dot net.
Enjoy your exploration. My name is Erro. Do you believe
in resurrections? I mean they happen every day? But are
you willing to listen, to participate, to explore and find
newer ways to understand? This podcast isn't about what we
study and see through the eyes of religion. My boy
boy Ernie spoke with me each chance we had together.
But this isn't about resurrecting a spiritual brother of nearly
thirty four years. This resurrection is that of a writing instrument,
verbal documentation of what some may call a vision quest.
Trusting the great mysteries of life. Tools are handed to
us to carve out each expectation. This tool was laid
to rest inside a forest to experience the elements of
reality while connecting with a universe that unconditionally shares its stories,
But who's writing it. Welcome to the Resurrection.
Speaker 2: Welcome back to the forest. Who the morning after? It
doesn't matter what podcasts you listen to when it comes
to things that have flowed through the presence of the
universe which I belong with and share with. We have
talked about Ernie so many different times. In fact, one
of my podcasts is called the Lyrics from Ernie's Forest,
And many times during these podcasts I've spoken why about
this beautiful, beautiful little music maker that we have been
together for nearly thirty four years. Thirty four years, and
this is the first time that I have entered this
forest without him next to me. Ernie, Oh my god,
his home overlooked this forest. Every day Ernie would stare
out there at that lake, the slow moving stream, the
tall grass. Anytime a deer, a buck, a hawk, an owl,
a cardinal, a squirrel would jump in front of the window.
We were twenty three feet above the ground, twenty three
feet above that forest floor. Ernie sees movement and he
lets the world know there's somebody out there, there's something
that's going on. I just want you to know a human.
I got your back because that's what birds do. I'm
not your normal bird. I'm Ernie. I'm Ernie the bird.
I'm just I'm not your normal bird. I'm Ernie. That's right.
Anybody who came anywhere in your Ernie, they knew they
really is something special because he would come up and
talk to you, he would make sounds, he would make
you laugh. It was if he was a human being
that was stuffed inside a tiny, little green body. And
that's all I've got left right now is that tiny body,
but the spirit of Ernie. The exact words that I
shared this morning with my wife was that he has
given me so much information to write about for decades
to come. That's what he did in our thirty four
years together. And for the first time ever moving into
this home, into this forest thirty three years ago, it's
the first time that I have been in this forest
without knowing, without Ernie being at home waiting for me
to come back to share with him the stories that
I picked up along the way from the other creations
inside this collection of trees in South Charlotte. So it's
going to be very interesting to write, to continue to
build upon, to know that the spirit of Ernie with
the lyrics and this forest are going to be very
very very much present as well as outreaching. Because here's
the thing about it, none of us are ever none
of us go into this world without experiencing loss. And
the way that Ernie and I have discussed this for
a very very long time is that it's not going
to be a loss. It's going to be a transition,
a walk, a new way to look at, things to
build upon, and a savor. Ernie came into my life
during some extremely dark times. Ernie knew that he had
his hands full when he would look at me and say,
oh God, okay, here we go again. What song do
you want me to do today? What do I need
to do to get you out of a mindset that
is so dark that most people couldn't make it this far.
One of the greatest things that Ernie ever did, honestly,
is that you would open up a bottle of soda
or pop as we called it in the North. You
would open it up and it has that little bit
of a sh kind of a vibe about it, and
Ernie would go as if he was burping, And every time,
thirty four years of a little girl monkey burping away
are the second the phone rings Hello, Hello, Hello, six
o'clock in the morning, even three and four o'clock when
you're walking through the house searching for that bathroom to
pn good morning, good morning. That was my little man,
which we're going to write about and talk about for
many years to come because this is Ernie's forced, these
lyrics belong to him. Today's pretty much the inside view
of the insanity that a creative mind puts itself through
losing my really really close friend Ernie, because of the
lyrics from Ernie's forst is his forest, this is where
he was laid to rest. I'm the daily writer that
symbolizes his life or legacy by way of the writing
instruments that I have collected, and many of them have
been dedicated to those that have been so amazingly close
to my soul. I've always said that the words come
from his collection of trees. Well, you have to have
a writing instrument that is willing to listen to the
universe that surrounds this collection of trees. In not losing
my very very good friend, my boy boy, Ernie, a
blue crown conyer, I didn't lose him. It's part of
the continuation. Now, easily I could have gone into anybody
that sells a writing instrument, not a pen, a writing
instrument and gather something that kind of look like my
boy boy, Ernie. But it has to go further than that.
Thirty four years we have spent together, Ernie and I,
and something very special inside my heart spoke to me said,
you will not keep the ashes of your boy boy, Ernie.
You're going to give him the force that he stared
into and helped you write about for thirty four years.
And so his resting place, or his place of continuation
is here. I have the writing instrument. It's spelled TWSBI.
It comes from Taiwan. And what the TWSBI stands for,
you don't listen for it for the pronunciation of the
actual lettering of that we are taught as Americans. The
letters themselves tell the story, and that is twizz B
tws bi a twizz B. But here's where the insanity
of the daily writer comes into play. I'm going to
lay this writing instrument next to Ernie, beneath the surface
of the forest floor. Now it belongs to the boy boy.
I'm presently at the site of my boy boy already
the blue ground. Conye. Wow, the last time I touched
the dirt beneath the surface like this was the day
that we shared him back with the universe. It's very
odd for me to be going right back into the
place where my boy Boy's body is in a beautiful,
beautiful place that is so comfortable. There's so many things
that are in there. The writing instrument has been placed
into the forest floor and I am now placing dirt
on top of it. The writing instrument will stay inside
the earth for a total of three days, three days
because of my spiritual beliefs that number three is a
very powerful number. It is now inside the earth. It
is now laying next to my blue crown Conye of
thirty four years inside this forest. It is now beneath
the surface of the forest floor. The two are now connected.
Stepping outside to a brand new morning the forest where
my boy boy Ernie writing instrument presently is resting next
to the beautiful creation from the heavens that was a
part of my life for nearly thirty four years. It
is freezing out here. It's barely thirty two degrees and
I'm standing at that site where it has remained completely covered.
This is day number two, morning number two of the
sun is coming out. I don't know if you can
hear the wind blowing. It rained all day yesterday, which
the creative side of me and the carrying side of
me wanted to come out here and not only record
the moment. But I was so afraid of the compassionate
itself inside me that I was going to take the
boy Boy Ernie writing instrument indoors because inside my heart
and inside my wallet, I was thinking, how how much
did you spend for that? And you're putting it in
the ground where it's raining as hard as it is.
This is stupid, dude, This is stupid, And yet the
writer within is going, this is not stupid. Your little boy,
my boy boy Ernie watched this forest for nearly thirty
four years. He is in this forest and every time
that you hold this writing instrument, it laid next to
my boy boy Ernie. Day number two, with the my
boy boy Ernie writing instrument sitting next to who has
inspired me, influenced me, empowered me, my boy boy Ernie,
There's gonna be a change in the plans. I am
so associated with the number three because of the numerology,
the universe and everything else that's connected to the number three.
But something is going to take place in the next
twenty four to forty eight hours. Inside this beautiful forest
in South charlott there's talk of snow. Oh yeah, fluffy
white snow. The writing instrument my boy Boy Ernie is
supposed to come back to me tomorrow on a Saturday,
but the snow is supposed to arrive on Sunday. So
I've asked the universe, can it stay in the soil
next to Ernie just a few extra hours. I would
love for the rest of my life to carry the
story of a writing instrument that laid next to my inspiration,
my empowerment, and my walk in life of thirty four
years to include that of some of the iciest, coldest weather.
I don't know what it's like to live inside the ground.
I don't know what it's like to be on a
rainy day, and nor do I know what it's like
to be beneath a layer of snow. But this writing
instrument will as it feels its way back to the
poet in the.
Speaker 1: Forest The Resurrection. It's a true story. Learn more about
this forest and my boy boy Ernie on arrow dot net,
a r re dot Net. His story, his journey a
new path with the Writing Instrument are available on the
podcast The Lyrics from Ernie's Forest. Future episodes of this
podcast will focus on the transition of materialistic value to
that of an authentic storyteller. The ice storms, a record
setting eleven inches of snow, The fear of walking to
the gravesite to find nothing, the resurrection, faith, hope, forgiveness
and discovery. What lessons will the Writing Instrument bring back
to the surface of walking forward? Let it rise above
our tears.