A quiet morning without Kim and Owen up and about. A couple of errands to run today and that is about it. The next scene, thirteen, is a soliloquy of sorts. Mother’s perspective through memory and you need to return to book one where she was introduced. This material is from Braided Dreams, Grandma’s first story in the book concerns Mother who is in Elysium.
". . . The old shaman, pointed to a not so bright star in the night sky and said, “We are from there,” then he pointed to the soil beneath their feet, “to here.” That is all he said. Nobody in the group slept that night.
One of the listeners tossed and turned and suddenly unexpected, she thought, ‘How can we be here and there at the same time?’
If I remember right, [said Grandma] she was the first human being who died and did not die at the same time. The woman asked others the same question in the morning. Eventually they concluded as to how it was possible to be in two places at once. Later in life, she died and found herself waiting for members of her group to join her once they died and did not die too. This was a time people began respecting the Dead and burying them with rites and passages to help accommodate both the Living and the Dead.
The Living were afraid the Dead were going to forget them. That is the way Grandma remembers it. Simple thinking really, but the story traveled. The Living were made conscious of being in two places at once, and they hoped the Dead would remain conscious of those still Living.
***
This particular [old] shaman [who said, “We are from there,” then he pointed to the soil beneath their feet, “to here.”], long dead, knows you are reading his thoughts, smiled old Grandma, who appears Aunt Jemima black in the richest soil on the planet. Her white teeth gleaned as paper unsoiled with ink or paint. She looked down on her young listeners. Child, she said [to the reader, myself included], you ain’t got a clue on what words are when they come out of the blue. I’m gonna sit on this here stump and hope it won’t stain my pretty blue and white dress that likes to float in a gentle breeze. You look up at Grandma as you look deep down into yourself child. I am your nature inside and out. The kerchief on my head ain’t nothin' but the stars. You keep that in mind, if you got a mind for it. Freedom stories ain’t for everyone. . . ."
From: Braided Dreams
You placed the brackets for clarity here. You have always felt that Grandma Earth was talking to you, as first reader, as well as to anyone else who reads the book.
I have. When she says, “I am your nature inside and out,” I am thinking she is talking about our human nature. That certainly includes me as well.
You see, you are not as arrogant as you think.
I’m still very arrogant when it comes to certain matters, but everyone is entitled to express their own opinions, that’s what I feel, so if people don’t have the time or inclination for these books that’s fine with me. I am expressing myself inside and out, at least I hope I am, and Grandma Earth helped in those first three books and I like to think she is still helping in this fourth book too. She is one of my favorite characters because she doesn’t take any BS from me or anyone else, which is rather refreshing in my mind.
Afternoon errands, a nap and leftover spaghetti and veggies for supper. In a few minutes Chuck will be on, a show you both like. Carol watches Trauma at nine and you DVR ‘24’. We can work then.
I feel embarrassed exposing my television habits. It makes me seem less dedicated to my writing goals.
Consistency is more important in working on the book, orndorff. We are on schedule as far as I am concerned. You are retired and you both like television. You had a lot of years when you did not watch much entertainment on TV at all. Besides, I see a healthy side message in all these notes for anyone reading them. Later, dude. – Amorella.
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 word 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 the built mind for it.
Strange, I am still considered the conclusion of 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 their 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.
***
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