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WE DON'T DO IT ALL, BUT WE DO IT ALL "FOR GOOD"

BE PART OF THE LEGACY

TAMPA BAY • FEBRUARY 23-24 2026

This FINAL encore experience will be unlike any other. Because like everything we do, it's been "reimagined" from beginning to end. It's not a virtual or hybrid event. It's not a conference. It's not a seminar, a workshop, a meeting, or a symposium. And it's not your typical run-of-the-mill everyday event crammed with stages, keynote speeches, team-building exercises, PowerPoint presentations, and all the other conventional humdrum. Because it's up close & personal by design. Where conversation trumps presentation. And where authentic connection runs deep.

The Chants Call Me

Voices swirl inside out
Tone and timbre chants
Vibrations flow, then ebb
Across the ether

My heart stretches and soars
As gently my mind’s eye opens
And freely my thoughts loosen
Silent, I begin to remember

The sound carries my soul
Gentle in its undulating waves
To a time without time
To a place without space
Where it seems all at once
We all knew an endless grace

My beating heart changes rhythm as the sensations reverberate
I listen to the mysteriously haunting chants
And I remember that I know of this calling
This experience, this moment, this feeling
This life inside the whispers

Each breath, each syllable
Each word, each sound
These tones, they tell me I am home
In an unfamiliar place

So here I sit on earth inside the sound waves only I can feel
Knowing the quest is to find and revere the invisible
I sit so very alone amongst the billions on this planet
Seeking a way, for reasons unclear

Gregorian chants in perfect pitch
Byzantine prayers in perfect rhyme
Russian orthodox chants and church bells
These ancient spirits remind me
From whence we came and to which we shall perhaps one day return

Echoes bounce off the cobbled stone walls
As visions of resplendent vision replace the here and now
And I remember why I remember
Inside the whispers

Stained glass shimmers in the fading daylight
Echoing intonations guide God’s children through the cosmic dust
And I remember why I remember

As the collective melodious sounds fill the void
Each crescendo delivers a new dimension
The focus shifting within lifts my soul higher
Til the energy rises in lustrous chakra transformation

And I remember that I remember

A roaring hush that once filled the cold dark desert
A relentless wind rushed like a perfectly broken metronome
Leaving only barren cold in its wake as the descent into conscious miasma approached

Silence intensified, as the gusts grew
Ushering in utter darkness and biting cold
Off in the distance, coyotes howled
Announcing their dominance in the black arid land

It seems we have been sent to this cold dark place
To look to the heavens
To find song in our hearts
Love in our souls and vision in our heads
To appear from within the black hole that is without

And I remember that I remember
This other worldly sense of love from whence we came

Voices swirl
As I dissolve into One
Here
On earth
Into The Now

Merry Beth Austin
Merry Beth Austin
Sometimes there is more.   Decades ago, I accidentally fell into the mysterious cauldron of software development.  The job intrigued me because it was like a giant imaginary puzzle. I quickly learned to abstract complex concepts into simple patterns, using precise wording and box diagrams to convey meaning to developers.  In a profession that demands relentless precision, speed to market and long hours, work became an addictive obsession. It mostly paid the bills. It half satisfied my need to learn new things.  And it represented a stark departure from my imagined career as a history or law professor.  The job also opened a portal to another dimension, allowing me to make the invisible visible without having to pay for an advanced degree.  Work mattered. Paying bills mattered. Being responsible mattered. Until one day, they didn’t.  In the midst of a series of debilitating tragedies, it became clear something was off, some “thing” was missing. Consumed by grief, I quit my job, leaving the adrenaline-filled cauldron behind. Then I waited, for what I knew not.  Not long after, a chance encounter with a groovy 98 yr old WWII Naval combat vet unlocked the missing piece.  He wanted to know if I was waiting on old age or death before beginning real life.  Shazam!  Stunned at the simplicity of the ask and confronted with the obvious archetype of Everyman’s Journey, I gasped and then pivoted.  I returned to work (same project; new role), bought a Class B camper van named Moose, and decided to explore what matters to me. Now,  I use words and photographs to craft stories about the chaotically beautiful and sometimes painful synchronicities of life.  I give witness to the miracle of finding one’s voice in amongst “the patterns of more”.  Today, I create for the sheer joy that creating brings. And that is enough.

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CONVERSATIONS

  1. Thank you for this beautiful, expressive poem from your heart and soul. Resonance. Gifted writer, poet you are, dear friend. I’m so thrilled and grateful your words, expressions are being shared widely on this award-winning global platform. “and I remember that I remember This other worldly sense of love from whence we came. Voices swirl as I dissolve into One Here on Earth into the Now.” Glorious.

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