Up with the sun. Paper and breakfast. You are thankful.
I enjoy the stability. One doesn’t need anything fancy to write a blog or novels. And, it is cheaper than hanging out in bars.
‘On the other side of bars’ as a multi-dimensional tone. . . . Later, you had your nap and are feeling better. Rich G. sent you a You-Tube video of a recent flash flood event in Australia and what surprised you the most was that of all the cars in the parking lot that were swept away, only one person went outside to move his car before the river rose too much. You wonder why this is? Why would people stand by and watch the river rise to the point of their cars being swept away when they could have, earlier, reasonably safely, gone out and moved them?
There is something basically human about this, a resignation perhaps, a lack of will at the moment? Hesitation? Why? Only one fellow was filmed moving his car and he waited to the last possible minute. This is unbelievable to me. Surely they could see what was happening. Surely, someone would have got the word out to those in the building that they better move their cars. I must be missing something. Fear of being swept away, perhaps that was it. I have never witnessed a flash flood live. After all, they were only cars. Australian sensibility. If I would have been a witness as those filming I would have raced to move my car before the water left the banks. Then again, perhaps I too, would have just stood by and watched it happen. Here is the video for those interested. What would you have done?
You are showing concern here because you tie this in with recent political events in the Middle East and political events in Germany in the 1930’s. The connections are reasonable from your perspective, orndorff, but not reasonable from many others' perspectives. People in the present are snagged by their personal connections with the past. How do you think it would be for the Dead to watch the present? You see, you wonder what you have left out of the characters in book four.
Such a complication. How can the Supervisor deal with all this? People have such dimensions to them.
Human reality has such dimensions and more, boy. Looking in the multiple-mirror doesn’t help much when attempting a holistic approach to the species. Post. – Amorella.
From a purely pragmatic point of view, I wonder if fuel prices are about to rise like that river. Now, this thought brings me the gallows humor and a "cheer up, things are bound to get worse".
The thought does bring a smile to your face. Good to see you back to your normal self. - Amorella.
7; Scene 3
Early enough and Mario found himself in Mother’s chambers once again. This time he felt it was more important. Mother, appearing not a day over thirty wore a long casual green Doric peplos, a folded material with its length her height with a white shawl, giving it a more formal look. “Please sit,” she said in a grandmotherly tone.
Her tone rattled his mind. She did not say his name either. Suddenly he felt as if he were ten years old and was about to receive a reprimand for breaking a favorite clay pot. The voice was that of my grandmother not Mother. Unconsciously, he sat as told and assumed the body language of the ten year old boy he had once been. His knees were bent straight forward military-like and his hands were clasped, coupled like one might find cars coupled in a railroad train. He sat surprised at the ridged cold racing through his fingers.
Mother sat rather officially on a seemingly ancient aristocratically designed Greek chair a short distance away. Physical-like distance can matter in communication even among the Dead. Knowingly she had her chair set a foot too far from Mario’s. A mother’s eye contact cannot readily be misunderstood by any child whose mind realizes it has just been read by Mother. She asked, “Why are you alone?”
“I want to ask you some questions about strategy. Thales and I thought we might represent the Dead using the partially built bridge over the Styx as the negotiation’s platform. Takis could set it up. Twelve cultures, twelve representatives. The multitudes of each culture might cast his representative’s shadow where none now exists. Surely, the shamans could perform such a dramatic event.”
“Each cultural representative is to shine as a sun?”
“Yes,” he replied excitedly, “Twelve suns where now we have none. We shall cast our own light to march forth and enrich the Living.”
“What does Takis think of this unusual enterprise?”
Feeling more confident, Mario replied, “I thought to ask you first, Mother.”
She responded with a condescending, “How kind.”
“Mother, I have a better idea. Why not you as our leader in negotiations? We twelve then would stand immediately behind you.”
We twelve, thought Mother. She said, “Under such an arrangement Sophia would be standing for Elysium, not you Mario.”
“Of course, the we was not in reference to myself Mother.” He stood. “I shall confer with Takis. Perhaps he will have better recommendations.” He felt a strange creeping warmth of surreptitious self-embarrassment and rushed to leave her home before he found himself in self-vanishment.
Saying nothing more, Mother eyed Mario as he left the grounds. I wonder, she thought, how this will be, me, the mother of all these now dead children, to confront Zeus or whoever he might be. No matter, there is a hollowness to all these gods and goddesses. Someone needs to watch over us Dead and these grounds though, a caretaker, that’s how I think of herorhim. We have nothing to fear from a caretaker no matter if he remains forever nameless.
**
Post, all for tonight, old man. - Amorella.
