01 July 2010

Notes & Audio-drafts of sc.1-3, Ch.5


         It is time for a new document, orndorff. > Now that this has been taken care of and recordings put in their places we can carry on. Mid-afternoon, and rather uneventful. Doctor this morning for a ping-pong ball size cyst on the back of your neck – too hard to lacerate so you are on antibiotics. You lost five more pounds since the first of the year. Blood pressure good, thus you assume you will be dead in a week.
         We joked about that in that it would be better for families as no taxes this year. I’d just as soon stay alive though. In fact, dying quick and early will save on the national health care so retired older people dying this year would be in our patriotic interest as good citizens. We’ll see. Both of us have a sense of gallows humor so it was a pleasant office visit with Dr. M. It will be the last visit in this medical building. We have been going to M.F.M. since 1972. Long time. I know most of the rooms as well as the old hidden away doctor’s office. Had two wonderful doctors, the second a former Indian Hill student of mine. Now we are on our third, a younger fellow with good dark humor like the second.
         Late dusk and you finished the audio scenes one through three of chapter five.  Include them here.
         I will, but I didn’t change much. For pronunciation I have to spell Celtic as Keltic, a few changes that remain unseen in the written version. Hearing the words brings a different dimension. Not as exact as I want, but I don’t know exact, so it is time to let it go for now and move on to the next scenes. Tomorrow, up for a blood test.
Chapter Five – Audio Draft

Scene 1

            A long way from Thales’s mental focus on branches, nests, and Elysium, deep within the looped entanglement of roots of the tree of thought and light, lies the esoteric and fantastical grave of the Fates missing letter Paradise. The letter, like no other, is being prodded, toyed with, and if you will, played. How it slid from an accidental leaf back into root alone, is a mystery to all of higher consciousness, who have been bred into cells of life. Its mistranslated story is likewise misunderstood throughout all the leaf-like universes grown from original said roots. The game of allegorical chess has its present moves.
            Merlyn stood in a private aside, surprised at what he could see from Avalon when he lay on his bed in his privacy room and stared, asleep and tranced into the area a few inches above his toes. All he had to do was to stare at his long toes, which he no longer really had. The toes that were not appeared to burst into reddish-orange spiritual flames with a mark of blue now and then. Above the flames rose atmospheric-like distortions of heat rising in a desert. Within the rising heat from no flames and no toes, an image of the great board sat at a favorable tilt and he could and did watch a figuration of the chess game from this thirteenth move.
Move 13  White Bishop to King 2                        Black Queen to Knight 3
Move 14  White castles King                               Black castles King
Move 15  White Bishop to King 3                        Black King’s Rook to Bishop 1

Scene 2

            Visualize the perfect form of a full size exterior model of the Roman Coliseum and multiply its size one thousand times and reduce the size of an average human being to one-thousandth. Once you have the ratios in mind consider the model to be the home of Zeus on the fabled Olympus, with you the reader observing the home from the distance of ten miles.
            Zeus is sitting at the top of the outer wall facing both Hades and Earth. He watches the Three Sisters stalking along the top towards him. As they grow closer he realizes they have been rendered the same physical-like size as himself in keeping with an ancient Greek perspective.
            Not a waster of words, Zeus asks the three-becoming-one, “Why did you take a piece of golden strand from the sky’s navel?”
            Necessity-in-Clotho responded, “To cast the die.”
            Necessity-in Lacheis added, “It was rolled for the sowing.”
            And, Necessity-in-Atropos sang, “The Dead must grow from what the Living hoe. The Living must reap what the Dead will sow.”  She continued to sing as the trio she is, an eclipse inside out and tossed about as a dark wind blowing between the branches, a vertical clef between nothing less and nothing more.
            The great Greek god king blinked, seemingly unaware, while the three grand dames in fortune, flew to Necessity’s higher lair.

Scene 3

            Merlyn soon found himself slipping into dream-time during the pleasant blue light of day. On introspection he thought, I’m not that tired. Being dead has a pleasant side, no aches or pains unless I want them. All sensory appears psychosomatic. I think in my native Celtic tongue but when I want to be heard I appear to be immediately understood by others I am in presence with. Irish, Latin, Greek, English, Norse are my in my resume. Languages are now my forte.
            Therein Merlyn's mind glided naturally into, Ogham, the Celtic alphabet, which has letters based on the names of trees as the trees are shaped with reasonably forked branches. Kenning-like poetic thoughts produced the alpha-an-beta, and in this poesy not all the tree letters are known to humankind, never were, and in that lies a wisdom in the Mystery of the Letters. Merlyn thought, once alive, now dead, I sound the letters and still they are heard by the Living through their eyes alone. In this sounding sense of reason the silent ears of the Dead are but whispering eyes to the living.
            A lot of people effected my living. Family, friends, acquaintances, and perceived enemies. People are not an indifference to me. Living or Dead each is a piece on the crystal board. Each is in herorhis own squared area of consciousness or lack of it. All have a shared square area of the same heavenly blue sky randomly decked with clouds of similar fluff.
            Two friends float above the rest within my soul. Why? I have never known because some friends are older, better known and deeper within. Both at once were living druidesses who snaked and coiled their way around my very soul.
            Brigit of Iona was a human reincarnate of the earlier Brigit, who was thought by some to be a goddess. She was not. She was a female sage, a physician and a smith as was her druidic father, who also had been a physician and a smith. I was placed to dangle on the bottom of her moon silver charm bracelet. She stirred my fiery passions into her hot and throaty caldron and had the summary of my Celtic faith for an immediate dinner.
            The second was Vivian who designed a silver and golden brooch to capture my reason with the heavy breathing in and out through her tangling net of erotic charms. A crystallized madness she became in my imagination alone. I never touched her nor her me. No need to touch when she was already a haunt beneath my boneless bag. I was a sorry sack of skin with Vivian.
            Both women were equally a damnable pleasant witchery. I, Merlyn, a once shining jewel, druidically placed in a rolled leathery piece of ancient pre-Celtic phylactery by Priestess Brigit and Priestess Vivian. Both druidesses became leather strapped, amulet-like pistons in the youth of my flamed mortal earthly engine. Scroll-like I was wound and unwound from mind to soul and soul to heart. And, thus bodiless, I was driven into an inconceivable madness while making a sorcerous choice. Unthinkingly, I chose to be in a spiritual magic with both women at once.
            Merlyn peered into the elementary considerations of his being included in the highest first order of druidic shamans. The same druidic hierarchical setting in which he would also place Brigit and Vivian. He immediately determined his chess queen’s position to be off the board, a Betweener, no one would question this. He smiled, no one Living or Dead can legitimately question this because I am ElseWhere. I am off the Board. I am consciousness outside and before the Creation of the Tree of Thought and Light.

I, Merlyn, exist.
Still
Within
Silence
Non-Begotten
...BE-ING…
Non-Begotten
Silence
Within
Still
I, Merlyn, do not exist.

Yet, Here I Am, Thinks Merlyn
and echoes
Yet, Here I Am, Thinks Merlyn
and echoes
Yet, Here I Am, Thinks Merlyn
Heart and Echo
and
Soul
and
Mind
At Once Shredded
and
At Once Re-stitched
Again
and
Again
and
Again
**

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