Sunday morning drizzle. Breakfast and the paper. You want to finish the audio draft today, and I suggest you do one more draft of the four chapters and run it off for Bob for Tuesday. You will feel better doing this rather than debating it from now until Christmas. Carol wants to check dimensions of the refrigerator to see if it will go through door. One more stop at Sears to reinforce the refrigerator will actually go through the front door. Now at Tri-County Macy’s on the way to Graeter’s and Kroger’s then home. Let’s go to work on the remaining scenes of chapter four. – Amorella.
Now you are waiting at the Kroger’s lot and you have just finished the cleanup on the audio-draft of scenes twelve and thirteen, two more to go and the last one is short. Make your CD’s then clean up the work for the third time for the first paper draft. Make a copy for Bob and keep your copy in the drawer upstairs. You will need a paper draft for the final clean-up in any case.
Home with leftover Papa John’s pizza for lunch, hamburgers and other foods from the freezer for the next couple of days. While at Sears today you also checked out their countertops.
I am rather excited to run off a paper copy, makes it a little closer to reality as a read. Little Owen will probably not think so much of books as we do. The letters on the MacBook are still quasi-real, almost metaphysical in my book.
This all began about the time you bought your first computer, a word processor, the Amstrad PCW-8256. You wonder what the connections are.
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The first time you hit the keyboard you were smitten with the idea that your mind could be directly extended to a machine. The Amstrad became a generator for unleashing creative energy. It still is. For you it was a dimensional leap in thought. You felt you might learn something by putting your mind into ‘play’, and you have. That was 1987. You had to rid yourself of the demons, you did it by diving deeper than Beowulf, so to speak. You have moved beyond the demons or dragons, if you will, in your head. In the summers you also had access to Carol’s Apple computer she was allowed to bring home from school. Then, it wasn’t long until you had an Apple IIe for the family.
Scene 12
Jagged surrealistic forms are glued; stalagmites onto the motionless green-blue ground rising up into narrow stone towers like fingers touching the now landscape of hazy blue-green atmosphere.
A human being would be breathing irrationality in such a place, but the three Fates, the Moirai, are in their richest element where the potential of consequences is sealed as far as the Greek Pantheon and the humans, the Dead and the Living, are concerned.
The smallest as well as the eldest of the three, Atropos, waved her right hand as if she were bearing a large flag for someone to see in the distance.
“We were told,” said she. “We were told to steal the stretch of golden sky, too put thinly into each human string as immortal armor. In the process we further opened human hearts at either end. No more we bow to the once mighty Zeus. No more we bow to anyone but Necessity. Such is the shaping sword long drawn and curved for such a rise of heart that allows for better judgment to pass in heartsansoulsanminds that roll with the wind into Elysium.
“We invented the seven letters strangely drawn from this surreal dancing skylight of dark and medium turquoises. This unlevel and windy Place beyond the skies of Olympus where the winds mimic wildly howling dogs.”
“Aye, we did. The Alpha and Beta and Eta and Tau as well as Iota and Upsilon.”
“We still have our A and B and H as well as our Roman I and U, but where is our missing Greek letter?”
“It was dissolved again, first to Light and second, to Impenetrable Thought.”
“Well rooted it is,” cackled the other one.
***
Narrator here. Three female Personifications walking from leaf to twig. Outer surface of universe three, the human's and marsupials universe, has an atmospheric illusion of two dimensions appearing as three on its outer surface tension. Very similar, in a sense, to how the environment is within Elysium as the Rebellion slowly meanders its way through its chosen crowd of ten thousand, somewhat like these nine lines of Coleridge in Kubla Khan:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery
So it is that Elysium is buried within the leafy stem of universe, connected and disconnected at the same time. For what is a leaf without a stem, and stem without a twig or branch, and branch without a trunk and roots too, for all are as one in defining a tree and so it is with rooted and caused higher consciousness scattered about in cells of life.
Inference moves the tree-formed mass of thought and light while intent is understood without the need of knowledge. For how would it be to see a flash of Angel and not wonder on the observed effect, both ways, mind you.
Both ways the physics works in the quantum uncertainty principle of observed measured effect. The Supervisor observes. The Supervisor is observed. For the three old Personifications it is an accidental trip without a rabbit hole to trip into. The Supervisor is.
One or three Greek Personifications is less. Existential, and none the less so, are witnesses on both secondary sides of the Fence. This is how it is for Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Secondary sources, poetic devices. The three Fates are not a Primary Source.
The universe, the third leaf with the small stem on the twig to branch, to tree and root, is at best a very general second or third rated source. Real and True, a Fact to be sure, but as an alphabet, with one letter missing, mistranslation is a given, and as such a fiction, it is much better than said fact any day.
This the Greeks understood. In the twenty-first century, this is not so much true. Facts are naked like bones and muscle, and skin and hair. It is only by looking in the mirror, that a story of the Tree and Human-like Consciousness, can be boldly understated, and dramatically under-told.
Meanwhile, back among the blue-green atmospheric mix, the Fate driving three wander, further down the stone path, and stony walls that encircles a great plain, which is surrounded by surrealist stony mounds, high rising, like nearly filled tunnels, that run the mind, in search of a new Idea or Concept, all the while, knowing a letter is missing. A piece of Text forever lost.
Lachesis to Atropos spoke, “The missing milky white letter’s name is pronounced in the concluding line from Coleridge Before and Coleridge Since.”
And, the three Sisters break into song, not yet by then in the native language told, but the Sisters understood the lyrics just the same:
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Scene 13
Early morning, the seventh day. Mother lay in her bed tired and restless. It will be hours before it is light. It is not easy to know what to do and then to do what is right. Life was so, so long ago. I remember those fateful words I thought after hearing the old shaman after he pointed to the not so bright star in the northern night sky. He said, “We are from there,” then he pointed to the dark soil beneath our feet, and added, “to here.” And later that night it was just like it is now, I was tossing and turning and suddenly thought, ‘How can we be here and out there at the same time.’
In the days following, we talked about how it might be possible, that we could reach that star, and be on earth both at once. I would have never expected, that it would have come to pass as it did. I didn’t even know it was possible, but the old shaman understood something that we did not. Intuitively, he already had a mind built for it.
Strange, I am still, considered the conclusion of becoming as North. The end of South is Earth. Our heartsansoulsanminds are here, our remains, whatever is left is there. This is a simple enough compass, but it is not true. Other North’s and other South’s exist. I have often over this long time, wondered the loneliest of wonders, ‘What did the strange human-like people think when I showed up one day?’ They never said, but I think it was similar to my own thinking. ‘Who is this? Why is she so strange? Why does she have breasts and no pouch flap? Why does she have less pubic hair than us? How is she here in our sanctuary, our Place of the Dead?’
Yet, they treated me kindly and were ready to accept me when I was sincerely and privately asked if I really wanted to stay. I thought of my friends and my family. We had discussed how it might be when we all met in the heavens. I wanted to be home with my family and friends and all at once I faded away. The only time I have ever done so, and I arrived Here, and waited. Eventually this came to be called Elysium on Earth.
Some remembered when they arrived, and to make it more comfortable for the newly Dead we built up the towns such as this out of expectation as much as anything else, so friends and family and families of friends could be comfortable. We did it ourselves as far as I know.
The gods, what there were, left us to our own devices, much as it had been on Earth. Others of the Dead, who thought in a like manner also arrived. No one has ever returned to Earth, although some have dreamed so vividly that they thought they had returned, at least as some sort of spirit or ghost. No one knows either way. The Living have long believed in Spirits and so have the Dead. Who is to say? Not me certainly.
I have long assumed other pockets of Dead also exist, each in their own cultural comfort. I bid them no ill will. Comfort is an important aspect of both community and individual identity. We are all we have. A nest of humanity, but it is time to seek out the other nests, and in large numbers, come to a great plain and ask for an audience with the Supervisor. Perhaps someday we can search for those other human-like people who were willing to accept me if I so chose to.
We need to bridge the gap that separates our species. Distance never seems so far in the heart and it need not be so far in the mind either. This is my standard and my children need to grow into it. Mother must always attempt to teach her young whether they are ready to listen or not. Another day has arrived early for me, a little earlier than usual. I hope it is a good sign.
Scene 14
Breakfast at the Mikroikia. Mario sat at the bar looking at the wall painting just to the left of the front door and to the right of the entrance to another side room. The painting shows a small temple. Above the frieze is the pediment, and its center, the tympanum, is painted odd turquoise colors. Mario is suddenly struck by these particular sky color tones.
Why with the mix of dark and medium turquoises in the centered tympanum sky," thought Mario, "when the outline of the pediment is gold? Two Doric gold columns hold up the pediment of the front corners of the temple. The wall painting surround is a firebrick red with two coiling gold serpents as symbolic decoration underneath the frieze of cooks at work in the kitchen. The turquoise stands alone as the sky in the tympanum. Why the turquoise and not blue for the sky? A blue and gold contrast would go better together.
Mario asked old Aranos the server of conversation, “Who painted the mural?”
Aranos grinned, “I did.” He continued, “I remembered it from life, from my own eatery. I loved the place so much the family built this. I am here most of the time. Nothing to do but help people carry on conversations. I am content.”
“Why is the tympanum painted turquoise?”
“The original artist did that, no one knows. He was asked once by someone as he sat at the bar with a good flask of wine. He said he didn’t know, it just came to him, and afterwards he liked it so he kept it that way. To be honest, I liked it myself, the color is rather soothing.”
Mario asked, “I assume it represents the color of the sky.”
“A troubled sky by the look of it, like a storm might be brewing somewhere a ways off.”
Mario smiled, “And, it is soothing because it looks like a coming storm?”
“No rain here. Not a hint of rain. Either fluffy white clouds interspersed with blue or a full blue sky. No storms. The color reminds me of what we never have.”
“Hello,” interrupted Salaman, who just arrived.
“I’ll be on my way,” said Aranos, "Good to see you this morning Salaman."
“Thanks for the information, Aranos. I like the mural too, just never noticed it closely.”
He laughed, “You rarely sit at this end of the bar, Mario!” and he made his way to one of the back tables.
He laughed, “You rarely sit at this end of the bar, Mario!” and he made his way to one of the back tables.
“Aranos is half the reason I come here, Mario.”
“So, Salaman. How are you feeling this morning?”
“Not so good.”
“You had a good sleep?”
Salaman smiled somewhat sheepishly, “Good enough.”
Mario grinned, “You were with Kassandra or Sophia?”
Salaman dead-panned, “Both.”
“Thought you would be with us last night?”
“Now you know the reason.”
Mario casually pointed, “Let’s go to that empty table.”
“Fine with me.”
Once the two sat and settled for a moment, Mario asked, “What did you find out from the women?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know you like Kassandra, but I also know you are not too fond of Sophia, and if you are sleeping with her there has to be a reason for it.”
Salaman appeared angry, but averted his eyes, and finally dropped them to the table. “I wanted to check their stories. I figured I would get a truth out of Kassandra, but I needed it collaborated by Sophia. Otherwise, they would have been making the story up.”
“What did you conclude?”
“They seemed to agree with each other on all the points, but what seems to bother them the most is that Mother has never faded, not once.”
Mario added “That’s what she told me too.”
Mario added “That’s what she told me too.”
“But why? Everyone needs seclusion from time to time, and it is bound to happen in a shared setting once in a while.”
“I don’t know. The only time she faded is when she left those strange Dead people, then she ended up here in Elysium. What surprised me is that it wasn’t always called Elysium” said Mario. “The later Dead, the children closer to her, created the place, at least the classical tone to Elysium.”
“It is true” reminded Salaman
“We learn about the Living from the recent Dead. Word gets around.” He paused, “Does Mother know where the Egyptians are?”
“She is sure they exist. Mother says we each have our language nests.”
“Nests?”
“That’s what she thinks of Elysium, that it is as a nest for us Greek Dead.”
Salaman was not sure what to say but what came out was, “Is the bridge to find the Egyptians first.”
“Good question, Salaman. I asked her. She said she wasn’t sure.”
“What are we going to do, Mario?”
“We will look for evidence of strangers in our dreams. And, for now, we will continue with the bridge.” The coming storm, he thought. I will have to watch the color of the sky more closely. A turquoise sky in Elysium, now wouldn’t that be interesting.
Scene 15
On this early morning’s walk, Thales finds himself at the north end of Eleusis Street, about thirty yards before it makes the right turn, to the stone rings with great tree centered. The rings set in Mother's southern front yard. He misses the esoteric delight, of the long casting morning shadows, enjoyed by the Living. He thinks, ‘too much blue sky, with no yellow disc in it. Deep down I always feel moon pale in Elysium.’
“Let’s stop here.”
Thales glanced to his left “At Poseidon’s Temple?”
“Why not?”
He scratched his forehead unthinkingly and smiled as if his mind was refreshed and commented, “After you.”
They entered the walled area as the small red bricked temple with typically ratioed Greek facades stood to their diagonal. “Beautiful and serene,” said Sophia. “I like this place very much.”
Because it is so close to Mother’s, thought Thales without hesitation. He said, “I agree, the aesthetics are quite well put throughout the courtyard.”
“It is interesting that there are six stone steps up with uniform rises, but the first step is only a couple of inches high.”
“It is the other way from Poseidon’s point of view Sophia. The seventh step is not short risen, only buried in the ground.”
She quietly walked over and stood on the bottom step and replied, “I did not know you had it in you to take the god’s point of view Thales. I am surprised.”
You do not appear surprised, thought Thales. He continued walking to the further, the left front corner of the temple and noted the small carving of the dolphin with its tail up and head pointed downward. Is he in a jump out of the sea? Is that the message here? Or, is he swimming within the sea? Where would Poseidon put him?
"What are you thinking about so studiously,” interrupted Sophia who was standing just behind him.
He quickly replied, “I am wondering where Elysium really is? Where are the other Nests of the Dead? What branches do they set on?”
The End of Chapter Four
of the fourth book in the Merlyn’s Mind series
©2009 by Richard H. Orndorff
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