Notes

         Going on noon. Carol is playing Sudoku, Owen is napping. You finished a nap earlier. Spent some time deliberating whether to read the newest Discover or not. Checked email and Fbk and now here you are.

         Pretty sad, huh, that is, not very productive.

         Why do you have to be productive?

         I feel better about myself when I am doing something other than napping or sitting.

         And using your weights? I don’t see you feeling bad about not doing those lately?

         Thanks, Amorella. I’ll add that to the list. Somewhere in my head I have been programmed to think of doing nothing as a sin. I’m sure it is back to Calvinism one way or another.

         How do you think the Dead would feel about that in the books?

         Probably the same. Sitting around in a privacy chamber wouldn’t be all that much fun. I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it all that much. We are built to work.

         You are built to learn first.

         I concur. Owen’s at one end, I’m nearing the other, so what are older, retired people built to do?

         Back to learning, just like Owen. For you, presently, learning about how it is to be a very old shaman named Takis.

         Point taken. I do enjoy the adventure.

         You did some work. You mowed the front yard for the first time this year.  

      

         I did. My spine hurt at first, and still does, but not too bad. I’ll mow the back tomorrow. I have to get busy and do stuff. First time I have been outside today. Carol and Kim are making supper, Paul won’t be home until about eight as he has twelve hour days this week and the hospital is on the West Side. Anyway, it was rather fun getting the mower and going through the rituals with the first cut of the season. Time for supper.

         Okay, Amorella, I have been reading over yesterday’s post and am stumped as I have been before. It is a matter of audacity to think I can write from the point of view of a shaman who is levels above Merlyn. I mean, it is an audacity to think I can write as the character Merlyn’s mind might to begin with.

         This is the reason I write the books, orndorff. I don’t have a sense of audacity. I don’t need it. I will be the shaman. I do know things, I do understand things and beyond. A fiction is far easier to write than any truth, as humans themselves, the world and the universe. Earlier you wrote on Facebook that you were enjoying writing about this shaman. Just now you were throwing a capital on shaman but I stopped it. The common letter serves well enough.

         Now you sound arrogant, Amorella. I am put in the present position of knowing nothing. I don’t wish to be arrogant or to show audacity. For one, it appears impolite or exaggerated or boastful in a backhanded sort of way. I know what I am.

         Human beings have little idea of what they are. Their existential moments are as fog. Yours too, boy. You are a mystery compounded by your own expectations. What is a material world? What is a spiritual world? Take away your expectations and what does your species have, boy? You tell me. – Amorella.

         This is what comes to mind first, from Act II, scene ii.

HAMLET

That you must teach me. But let me conjure you, by

the rights of our fellowship, by the consonancy of

our youth, by the obligation of our ever-preserved

love, and by what more dear a better proposer could

charge you withal, be even and direct with me,

whether you were sent for, or no?

ROSENCRANTZ

[Aside to GUILDENSTERN] What say you?

HAMLET

[Aside] Nay, then, I have an eye of you.--If you

love me, hold not off.

GUILDENSTERN

My lord, we were sent for.

HAMLET

I will tell you why; so shall my anticipation

prevent your discovery, and your secrecy to the king

and queen moult no feather. I have of late--but

wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all

custom of exercises; and indeed it goes so heavily

with my disposition that this goodly frame, the

earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most

excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave

o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted

with golden fire, why, it appears no other thing to

me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours.

What a piece of work is a man! how noble in reason!

how infinite in faculty! in form and moving how

express and admirable! in action how like an angel!

in apprehension how like a god! the beauty of the

world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me,

what is this quintessence of dust? man delights not

me: no, nor woman neither, though by your smiling

you seem to say so.

ROSENCRANTZ

My lord, there was no such stuff in my thoughts.

HAMLET

Why did you laugh then, when I said 'man delights not me'?

ROSENCRANTZ

To think, my lord, if you delight not in man, what

lenten entertainment the players shall receive from

you: we coted them on the way; and hither are they

coming, to offer you service.

HAMLET

He that plays the king shall be welcome; his majesty

shall have tribute of me; the adventurous knight

shall use his foil and target; the lover shall not

sigh gratis; the humourous man shall end his part

in peace; the clown shall make those laugh whose

lungs are tickled o' the sere; and the lady shall

say her mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt

for't. What players are they?

**

         This is where I am, in context, like the lines above. Bold lettering, is what I am up front, but the play within the play serves its own purpose, as does humankind I suppose. Is this where Taxis is in this scene? Is this his mood, his perspective, his point of view? This is as close as I can come in knowledge, understanding, and hints of shamanism.

         This may show your present mind, boy, but what of heart and soul? The three walk the same tightrope together and must balance. Enough for tonight. Something to think about, boy. This is more than something you enjoy. It is a necessity for you to complete if you wish to die content. This is a hint as to what is on the shaman’s mind at present in this scene. You think about it boy. – Amorella.