Notes - the transcendency of frozen thoughts / Graystone & Bleacher families

         Moving on noon. The usual morning plus two digitally recorded shows. This week you lose Poirot, Inspector Morris and two CSI’s and Blue Bloods are repeats.

         One day, if and when I complete this series, I am going to go back and de-construct each novel. I will put an end to a personal mystery. Last night I read the rest of the new March Harper’s enjoying a story titled, “The Miraculous Discovery of Psammetichus I” by Daniel Mason. The story is based on Herodotus’ The Histories, Book II (adapted from the translation by G. Rawlinson, 1858).

         You are waiting in the Kroger’s lot on Tylersville after a late lunch at Five Guys Burgers and Fries. You are reminded of the day before yesterday when Mother had a transcendental flash of Grandma Earth through her Grandfather Takis and felt both enlightened and bewildered by it.

         You see her flash as from “reading the frozen words” in Grandma’s first story. You then realized the books may be seen not by each volume but by the whole Merlyn’s Mind series. When the books are seen by series (as one unit) there is another layer of meaning; another dimension of thought/concept in your mind. As the books are written a few characters within begin to grasp they are living in a book, in the author’s mind, if you will. Diplomat in her search for the truth about the tiny alien in Richard Graystone’s mind (Richard, twin of Robert). She is not sure about the level beyond this, that is you, another Richard as the author who has the alien who is really me, Amorella, but to her she may see as the Saki. You think this is too confusing for the reader but I disagree. Other levels also exist which you are not yet aware of. This is what happens when one relies on one’s unconsciousness for gathering information.

         I find all this quite interesting, but I would hope it is not because it is my mind that is being mined. I would like such books (even)if someone else were the author. I think it is fun to dig around and see what’s really up. One of the reasons why I like the Di Vinci Code and did my own genetic research in relationship to it. The Irish-Scottish old royal line, the Trojan-French old royal line and the Jesus line, all back to David and from David back to Sarah and Abraham. Some peoples in those lines I used in Robert and Richard Graystone’s geneaology as well as their twin wives, Connie and Cindy Bleacher.

         I would have never thought to connect the Bleacher and Graystone families more than a thousand years later if I had not seen DNA evidence of it in my own family. I went through Oxford DNA Genealogy as did Carol’s uncle, brother of her father. It turns out we have almost identical male DNA tracing back to Western Scotland the thirteenth century. At turns out that during the Reformation one brother of her family (Hammond) left Scotland for Germany, we figure either for a new religion or a better beer. Anyway, he settled and eventually took the name Henne Zu Ohrndorf after a place name. Well, that’s the Orndorff family theory – the DNA is the scientific evidence of connection.

The point is that these things happen in actual human genealogy. How the DNA comes to meet again in the twentieth century got me to thinking on how there might be more to human connections than we generally see. Genes seeking out like family genes. I thought it was a cool concept so I decided to use it. Amorella concurred.

Also, this ‘great circle’ effect is seen in the legendary genealogy of the royals with Irish, Scots, English and French tracing their legendary royal genes back to Sarah and Abraham. Very cool (to me) so it is built into the story. Now this same concept is being seen in transcendental conceptual ideas (Platonic-like forms) in the ‘flash’ Mother has. Again, it shows (to me as far as fiction goes) it is possible that something else is going on here that we do not see in our daily living. Connections that may have ‘meaning’ that we do not yet know or are ripened enough to see as Amorella. In the story Merlyn draws the ‘stories of centuries and life on the other side of the galaxy together. I like to think about such stuff so it is put to use in the fictions. Obviously, these books are mostly for me. I share them only because Amorella says I will feel better doing so (and I do). This is all there is to it. – rho

You put this together. It is a grand rationalization of course, but then so are the books and blog. Parallels abound. It is getting on time for the local nightly news. Post. – Amorella.

After twenty-one hundred hours and you opened Merlyn’s Mind, book three, and noted Grandma’s Story, the first of her stories in this book. The prologue of the story seems to fit in context with what’s been written today. Include it here for your own interest later. This is a reminder to you that I do not deviate from the path these stories are grown on. Grandma Earth is doing the speaking.

“Grandma’s Story 1” [Merlyn’s Mind]

Here we are still at the dinner table in book one. Some time has passed in the real world of physics beyond the confines of these books. Readers of the first two books are older even in reference to books one and two alone. The Dead stay in their place much as the letters, into words, into sentences and into paragraphs do also. Paragraphs to segments and segments to chapters confined in sky blue covers with puffy cloud colored lettering. The black lettering in here is the color Merlyn’s pupils once were centuries ago when he was alive on the Earth as you are now. To see into the mind of the Living or the Dead is to see into darkness first.

Book two of the Merlyn’s Mind series was worked into publication during May, 2007. The month held two full moons, neither of them blue. The final proof was sent to the publishers on 23 May 2007, during a half moon phase. This would mean nothing were the dream not Merlyn’s, but as it is, there is existential significance. From Merlyn’s point of view time does not exist. It is as though the Dead exist within the framework of a book consisting of a single page. The difference is night and day.

The half moon is a reminder to one such as Merlyn that half a moon shadowed is better than no moon, and a moon in half-light is better than a moon reflecting no light at all. Otherwise, Merlyn would not have a ghost of a chance at being here. The dreamer is always first in a dream. It is a matter of grammar, of logic. It is a matter of the mind, a matter that is unseen but understood. Matter of this sort travels beyond the grave. People who attempt to prove an understanding can do no more than the people who would believe an understanding. The mind of Merlyn will have none of it.

Understanding, as Merlyn uses it, means to grasp the nature and the significance of the three story dreams in segments as well as in their holistic essence of humanity in your own living and in your possible sense of consciousness after physical death.

Reason is in the mind first, it is the breath of thought. Imagination is next. Meaning develops from the two intertwined. This is how Merlyn views the environs of being among the Dead. What need exists for belief or doubt when one recognizes a continued existence beyond one’s own demise? Hope presses on the mind of the Dead as gravity presses on matter.

An internal first question might be, ‘I still exist. Now what?’ One doubt or belief is resolved, ‘Where do I go from here?’ Human compassion and kindness are forced to the forefront. ‘A silent benediction will do.’ Then there is the common question, ‘Am I alone?’ A response, ‘Only if you want to be,’ is understood as ‘I still have free will.’ And with this, hope is renewed. To each their own of course, as free will is recognized. The Dead pay the piper for continued free will. Merlyn sees a humor in it as it helps to have an understanding of your own personal humanity. The mind has a choice to grow, to mature, or not. This is an example of the self-recognition of being physical dead. The mind paints its own portrait.

The Dead soon find they need their friends. Like minds attract. As always survival is first. Hope is the seed that is nourished by friendships. This is not an existence of levels of Heaven or Hell or even Purgatory. Where would you want your dead friends to find themselves? The mind is built for whatever question that comes forth, and it is here that humans reason and use their imaginations.

Grandma slapped her thigh as if she was a horse that, first and foremost,

needed a tickle to remind itself it was in a horse race after all. She glanced out at her audience and said, “Remember this. When you are dead to the world your mind is all you have left and you either learn to tame it or it tames you.” She sat with a wisp of a smirk on her face. “With the mind, life goes on one way or another. That is the way it reads in here and there is nothing that can be done about it.” This is the same line used by Lord Robert as we reenter the dining room with the large table Merlyn once put his elbows on while studying the genealogy of Lord Renaldo and Lady Criteria.

If you remember, Lady Criteria’s parents were Count Athalaric and Countess Evangeline. The Count’s brother or cousin was King Thedoric. One set of her grandparents were Thanos and Peony who lived through much of the seventh century in Greece. Under such circumstances she may have been a part of the old Frankish bloodline that traced itself back to Sarah and Abraham.

 Lord Renaldo’s parents were Konrad and Kaaje and a set of his grandparents were Maarten and Skylar, who also live through much of the seventh century. And, in a revised bloodline he might have traced himself back to Odin and Frigga, who were popular in the Scandinavian sagas. This family could also be traced back to the area near the Black Sea seven thousand years earlier. You may remember reading a story about one of them, the shaman in Grandma’s Story, chapter four of book one. The shaman who told the short story about being in two places at once.

The Place of the Dead where Merlyn exists to dream is a part of the greater Nature of being human. The reader is a part of that same greater Nature as far as old Grandma is concerned. It is a part of understanding who you are and where you came from. Blood roots. You don’t need a formal genealogy to realize a truth here. You share your blood with cousins all around the world.

***

The above is the set up for the first Grandma Story in book 3 by reminding the reader what happened at the conclusion of the second books’ ‘Grandma Stories’. The stories all follow the genealogies of the Graystone and Bleacher families. Post. - Amorella. 

Notes - Bedroom Light / Tree's Anchor Root

        You were up shortly after light, breakfast, Sunday paper, chores and you and Carol have some errands to run later.

         I am sitting in the bedroom chair, ceiling fan on, enjoying the variety of natural light in the room. Looking out the north by northeast window are the still naked trees waiting for a greater angle of sunlight. In another thirty days buds will appear on some and the woods will hide Muddy Creek wandering in its depths. More birds and squirrels will be about more often and this Winter will begin to fade from memory. On cloudy days such as this lights flows into the room and reflects from each nook and cranny in ceiling and walls. Still life.

         Use the camera and place the small photos of the scene. For your records of how the light once was from your black easy chair in late February. – Amorella.

North by Northeast 

North

Northwest

         Strange, I don’t think we have any pictures of our bedroom. This is how I see it though. Trees out the bathroom window also but they can’t be seen in the photo. I love the trees. Our first house had none until we planted them – the lot had been part of a corn field. The photos don’t capture an Edward Hopper painting (not somber enough) but I think of him as an ideal in any case.

         Light has its uses. Post. – Amorella. 

        Waiting for Carol at Lowe’s while she looks for shade grass seed. Then to Subway for a picnic at Rae Park under the bridge along the swollen Little Miami. After that, Kroger’s and home.

         Let’s start the Styx Tree Story from its roots, to do this go back to the material used earlier in this books about the universe looking somewhat like an electric lit fur tree.

         What I found below within the story is from chapter four, scene five.

Readers may wonder on the framework for these four novels with two beyond. In the twenty-first century people like to know where they are coming from and where they are going. As these books are bound in document, so is all life and potential life bound.

First, picture, if you would, a well of reflective glass on all sides round, boundless without top and bottom. A glowing filament of unorthodox thought and light shaped as a well rooted, tall trunked, heavily branched tree with a full leafed canopy sets centered within the interior glassy parchment giving an outwardly distanced appearance of a strange surrealistic lantern anchored by unimaginable Angelic-like Reason and Passion, both cemented and solidified by shear enthusiastic Will.

The gigantic wood-like root system feeds from the otherwise empty appearing well. Nourishment flows from roots to leaves and from leaves back to roots. When a leaf can no longer support itself, it dies. If many leaves on the branch die, the branch dies. The trunk, or the filament center, does not flicker.  The trunk and branches are made up of dimensional layers based on the number of representative rings accumulated through the increase of the tree and subsequent branch diameters.

Put into an earthly proportion, this tree has a trunk some six feet thick and the massive lower branches of more than one and a half foot in diameter begin with the branch’s collar built within the trunk at four feet up. The branching is spacious but entanglement occurs when some branches find their way to naturally graft from a lower limb to a higher one and still produce smaller upward and outward growing branches. The height of the canopy of well-proportioned branches is some forty feet.  Standing under this giant bushy tree and looking up one can observe one particular limb of some two inches in diameter growing from a massive bottom limb bend outwardly naturally and then back in, grafting into a higher trunk produced limb some six inches thick. It has the appearance of a long handle on a bus or train, which one might use to steady herorhimself and pull herorhimself onto the vehicle.

Towards the middle of this oddly grafted branch is a smaller one two feet long and thin with three small but growing leaves fanned out on its tip. It could be snapped from the grafted branch without much thought, but it would not be wise to do, if it could be done at all. It is true the tiny branched leaves would hardly be noticed if missing, but these leaves are noticed like delicate flowers, and observed they are, as is each leaf on this particular filament of a tree shaped with and by thought and light.

One of the three fanned leaves on the twig, the one on the right, is the universe as you know it, but from the outside as I see it. Each leaf is a universe, a direct connection with woody appearing branches and large tall trunk and a deep and wide root system. Permanent Time is built in the growth of the tree, otherwise, time is relative.

A tree leaf can have a reflection (mirror image) or a bilateral symmetry, two halves, a right and left. And, in these books at least, a universe can have a similar dispensation. Much of this comes to play in examples scattered throughout the connected series of six books.

 ***

            I also noticed another comment in chapter four by the Supervisor, one I evidently had not paid much attention to:

"The Supervisor rarely uses more energy than needed at any given moment. SheanHe is nearly the ultimate conscious creation in efficient thought and in processing the earliest appropriate response possible given HeranHis wide parameters."

         Why would the Supervisor ever use more energy than needed at any given moment?

         You misstate the question. Use ‘how’ instead of ‘why’.

         How would the Supervisor ever use more energy than needed at any given moment?

         Through an influx of Divine Will – I see you are scouting the M-W Thesaurus for a better word than “Divine” and have come up with possibly two: “deific” and “godlike”.

         Neither hits the ear as well as “Divine” in context.

         The inference is that higher metaphysical orders exist than Betweeners involved in these books. Do you wish to deny this?

         I do not agree, but I cannot deny what I do not for sure know. It appears I cannot ‘know’ something even within a fiction.

         The logic is sound, orndorff. If Betweeners exist (within the story as they do) then it is reasonable to assume metaphysical ‘beings of consciousness’ exist beyond the Betweeners. Let’s let it go for now and return to the task at hand. – Amorella.

         I’m fine with that. Implications make me anxious.

         As well they should, boy. Enjoy the scenery at small Rahe Little Miami State Park. You watched the fast rolling river while eating and now you are in the lot overseeing the roofed picnic area and the old arched concrete bridge over the Little Miami above and behind. Your sunroof is open as is your front window. Carol is reading in the first third of her paperback, The Paris Vendetta by Steve Berry and not ready to leave. On the way home you will drive south along the river for a few miles.

         Mid-afternoon, and a stop at Kroger’s on Tylersville Road. Cooler and a darker sky than when you left.   

        

         First, I only have an opening few lines from Tree but is the word “non-circumciseable” a needed word here? Most people would think sexual.

         No different than the Big Bang is it? Earthy humor, boy. Deal with it. Put in what you have and that’s it for tonight. Post.– Amorella.

Grandfather Panagiotakis’s

“The Styx Bank Tree’s Story”

The anchor, my chorded root, begins unattached in a warm string of thoughtanlight produced, held and managed in a solidified Nourishstance of fertilized EnthusaWill. The circumference beyond my main root is a hollowed, forever black bark without border, a non-binding, a non-circumciseable skin-like extension of Nourishstance, if you will. 

***

Notes - A reasonable deconstruction / Edit & Add to Sc. 5

         Early afternoon. First, family lunch earlier at Smokey Bones. Now you are parked near the OshKosh B’gosh children’s clothing store on the south side of the road across from Polaris proper. You are happy that Owen remembers you and Carol.

         This morning you thought you having doubts about how time works in the story as mentioned in the last couple of blogs. Mostly, you don’t believe the concepts, as the books are fiction just as you are. That’s how you see it.

         I know BS and most of this blog wordage has to be taken with a grain of salt. The real purpose is internalizing, psyching myself up to tell the next story whatever it may be. Tree roots that string to the Big Bang, I’m sure an interesting case (to me) can be made. Of course I don’t believe it. As long as the story stays mythanscience-like I can deal with it. No fantasy though. No pretty maidens, magic sorcerers, witches, faeries, unicorns, rainbows and/or dragons.

         Late afternoon and you are home. While driving you were thinking about the difference between believing and hoping.

         I don’t want to get into this, Amorella. People will hope and believe what they want. In the books I want to focus on hope and faith not belief or believing something, anything. Hope and faith are enough for me so that’s okay in the books. Believing something is true or morally right would use up too much mental energy in my case. Hope (in something) and faith (in something – even as an agnostic) don’t take nearly so much mental energy (for me).  As far as the books are concerned hope and faith can be reasonably deconstructed in my mind. Beliefs the characters have are much less likely to be deconstructable to the likes of me.

Take a break, boy. Relax. The scene is making you uncomfortable already. Post. – Amorella.

After twenty-one hundred hours and you edited and added to the draft. Post it here.

Scene 5

         Mother approached Grandfather Takis on his own turf near the bank of the Styx and found him sitting cross-legged under an old tree staring out across the forever long and winding river. She watched his eyes glance her way but he did not otherwise move from his seated position. Mother found herself smiling and replicating his sitting position to his right. “Grandfather,” she said child-like. Tell me a story I have not heard before.”

         He smiled reflectively causing his ruddy cheeks to rise and his eyelids to narrow. Above the eye gleams his thick bushy dark brows arched almost to the common white turban wrap on top of his head. He turned towards his granddaughter and said, “Gloama, I have just the story for you.” With that he moved cat quickly, shifting his position to fully face his granddaughter. “This tree we find ourselves sitting under has a story neither of us have ever heard. This is the story I will tell.”

         A flash of unrehearsed thought lit Mother’s mind.

> Grandfather Takis points to a not so bright star in the night sky and declares, “We are from there,” then he points to the soil beneath their feet, “to here.”

I, Gloama, turn in this same moment and ask, “How can we be here and there at the same time?”

I, Gloama, am the first human being who died and did not die at the same time. Grandfather knows I am reading his thoughts, grinned Gloama in delight.

A Voice: “Gloama. Look at your Grandpa’s eyes as you look deep down into yourself child. I am Grandma Earth and I was once your nature inside and out.”

        The white in Grandma Earth’s eyes reflected in her Grandfather’s eyes showing her Earth’s dark pupils were disappearing inside her Grandfather and herself. Grandma Earth’s Voice asserted,  “I got me a chant to take us from a story in the past to a story in the future. I’m the board on which the Shamans dance.” <

         An unrealized kernel in Mother’s mind absorbed the flash of unrehearsed thought, thus leaving room for:

Grandfather Panagiotakis’s

“The Styx Bank Tree’s Story”

***

Now you are ready for the story. Surprised, aren’t you.

Mother’s flash to Grandma’s Story in book one is indeed a surprise. She reads Grandma Earth’s story, at least part, from her perspective. I am sure she is enlightened that Grandma Earth still exists in her grandfather in one form or another. Basically though, Mother is gaining insight from book one whether she realizes she is in book four or not. This can then pass for a transcendental state?

You began your last sentence as a declarative but changed it to an interrogative half way through, why?

 Basically, I have my own intuitive flash. The books as a series show more meaning than the books separately or in volumes. There is something in this I cannot quite grasp.

         Good. You are feeling as Mother does as the story begins. Post. – Amorella.

***

For reference here is "Grandma's Story 1" from book one:

Grandma’s Story - One

 I, Grandma Earth, have been summoned by Merlyn to show fragmented stories from the tailbone up through the human mind. Captain Leo Lamar, tugging freedom across the Ohio to the Underground Railroad delivers the stories to the Living. Richard is the author or conductor on the railroad if you will. You are welcome to come along as long as you keep on the tracks.

I have an old story for you, nodded Grandma, a man is in worldly trouble long ago. Merlyn has a mind to listen in, and thus, so do you.

It is the beginning of dawn and my shoulders shiver. This is the way it is in here. I hear the crickets and other small creatures around the swamp. I am inside a hole in the wall and there is no way out. I am stuck. This is the way it is. I cannot get out. Let me out. Let me out.

It is the beginning of dawn and my forearms shiver. This is the way it is. I hear the crickets and the other small creatures. I am in a hole in the wall and there is no way out. This is the way it is. I cannot get out.

 My fingers are cold and full of ice. It is winter in spring. It is dawn. The birds sing. I am no bird. It is cold, and I am ice forming on the river. I am floating and cold. The river is not what I am. I am continuity, a common ground in icy hands.

I had a dream last night, and it was a whopper. It was about these people who live way out among the stars, and how it is when they are stuck too.

I will work in this block of ice and let you know how it is. I will tap out my message from in here as people caught in a cave do. As long as I have icy cold fingers, the living Dead move me. I have all the time in the world. That is how it is in my cold dawn of almost eighteen thousand years ago. I am stuck frozen and flat across the cold circle of stone that surrounds our pond of stars in the heavens. I am here and they are both at once. I am a shaman dancing on the board between mind and spirit. Where are you?

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 unexpectedly, she thought, ‘How can we be here and there at the same time?’

If I remember right, 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 shaman, 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, 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.

Grandma glanced up beyond the dark sky above her head. The white in her eyes could tell you her dark pupils were disappearing inside. I got me a chant to take us from a story in the past to a story in the future. I’m the board on which the Shamans dance. Merlyn and lover in a dead man’s dream to a future together his old mind streams --

From two ancient hearts  by soul made one

Return this story to where passions have begun

A well known druidess and druid will do

The same spirited bodies that make up you.

Along the corridor where stirring memories are made

Vivien and Merlyn now consciously laid.

And from old Grandma's toothy gums

A narrative oddly familiar this way comes.

***

Notes - A Return to Hari Seldon /Intro to Scene Five

         Late morning. You both drove to the gas station to fill up as the price is supposed to rise twelve cents today, which will make in $3.39 for regular. Low by world standards. You don’t need to go into a story about how you remember buying fuel at eighteen cents a gallon in 1958.

         Kim called earlier. Cleveland got six inches of snow last night and it has been snowing an inch an hour ever since – they may end up with eighteen or more inches. Case-Western is shut down as is her daycare. She said the last time Case was shut down was in February 2007. Perhaps an adjustment in schedules but they still hope to go to Columbus – especially if Paul gets off early today as he might. So, you are still hoping to go up this weekend too. Check your email then we can move on.

         What about Takis’ story of the tree roots in Elysium to granddaughter, Mother? By the way, I think it is cool that a grandfather can still tell a new story to his granddaughter. (A nice piece of Heaven)

         You took a break and began reading the latest Harpers magazine and that led you to think about a letter to the editor in the Enquirer today. You checked online and found this:

Article 23 of the Universal Human Rights Declaration adopted by the United Nations in 1948 reads:

•               (1) Everyone has the right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favourable conditions of work and to protection against unemployment.

•               (2) Everyone, without any discrimination, has the right to equal pay for equal work.

•               (3) Everyone who works has the right to just and favourable remuneration ensuring for himself and his family an existence worthy of human dignity, and supplemented, if necessary, by other means of social protection.

•               (4) Everyone has the right to form and to join trade unions for the protection of his interests.

**

         This reminds me how upset I am about the union-busting tactics going on by Republican governors in Wisconsin, Indiana and Ohio. I am glad that you, Amorella, as the Supervisor are going to negotiate with the Dead.

         Out for errands and lunch at Panera/Chipotle and now it is mid-afternoon. Kim called and they are on their way to Columbus thus you will see them later. It just dawned on you that a tactic of mine is to withhold information until it has ripened into its full value.

         In some ways I see this as a concept ‘of/for’ future time as humans sense it. Tomorrow is withheld also until it has ripened into its full day. Time is, in this context, organic. Is this also what is going on in The Rebellion?

         Yes. The unconscious story within is presently ripening into your consciousness. Your questions and statements are examples of this from my perspective.

         So, does this mean that the wait the Dead have for the first Rebellion and the subsequent wait (until present times) until the second Rebellion is a matter of ripening until the events actually take place in the story?

         This is the way I have written the books for you, but from my perspectives the books already fully exist. You have to develop a personalized understanding of the concepts/thinking first. This is what we are doing presently. You have to develop an attachment to/for the word placement before you know what they are.

         Thus, I a previewing a future.

         In a sense, yes. Your own future thought (though it is  presently my past thought).

         Where then is the Free Will of the Dead as you know what they are going to demand and what they will ultimately accept?

         The Dead are not ripened enough to know what their decisions of Free Will will be. Once they do, they make their decisions. The decisions can be changed at a later date in their existence (just as you can later edit the chapters). With the Dead there is almost always time to rectify an earlier decision. This paragraph is running parallel with the much earlier blog which focuses on Asimov’s character Hari Seldon in the Foundation series. The potential for events ripen in much the same way and Hari finds ways to make use of these ripenings. Real life examples can be seen in the Middle East and in Wisconsin, Indiana and Ohio. It is about a time when particular people can and do make a stand because they can do no other. In this way these people discover who they really are. This is humanity in action. Athens and Sparta, it was the same. The wars, the same. Conquests, the same. Agriculture, the same. Urban development, the same. This is not economics at work, this is the heartansoulanmind at work, at least it is this way in the books. In here the Rebellion is essentially a Seldon Crisis, both Rebellions are. Later, dude. Post. – Amorella.

         I am ready to work on scene five but I don’t know Mother’s name. I could not find it in book one.

Scene 5

         Mother approached Grandfather Takis on his own turf near the bank of the Styx and found him sitting cross-legged under an old tree staring out across the forever long and winding river. She watched his eyes glance her way but he did not otherwise move from his seated position. Mother found herself smiling and replicating his sitting position to his right. “Grandfather,” she said child-like. Tell me a story I have not heard before.”

         He smiled reflectively and turned his head towards his granddaughter, “Gloama, I have just the story for you.” With that he shifted his position away from the river and faced his granddaughter. “This tree we find ourselves sitting under has a story neither of us have ever heard. This is the story I will tell.”

**

         You have the beginning of the scene, the story tomorrow after you return home, or Sunday.

         I think Gloama is a good name for Mother. I searched and so far I cannot find that she has a name in print. Gloama will do for now and I hope permanently.

         It is fitting that old Takis has not heard the story yet either. The tree will tell its story through him, but when it is completed you will see that it is also Takis’ and Gloama’s story too. This tree knows things the human dead do not. Why? Its roots stretch into the creation of the universe. Post. – Amorella.