You were up early, breakfast and the paper. Carol wanted to shop so you headed south (again) across the Sunshine Skyway to the Crab Trap II for an excellent lunch of a shared crab and shrimp quesadilla with added jalapeño peppers on your side, Carol had a side salad and you also had a bowl of New England clam chowder.
I am sitting in the shade in the parking lot of the nearby outlet mall at the junction of I-75 and Rt. 301 waiting for Carol in the mid-afternoon. A grove of coconut palms a hundred yards wide sets out the front window as I face east on about the fifty. As I look in the rearview mirror I see a Chico’s about a hundred yards to the west, one of Carol’s favorite stores.
Last night after going to bed I didn’t listen to the Internet radio as usual. I thought the experience of the occurrence would stick with me but it evaporated as if it had never happened. Had I not written the description of said occurrence immediately after I would have thought it completely imagined. I would know that nearly disembodied voice though, if I ever heard it again. Gravelly voice – that is another word I thought last night but did not write down. It wasn’t exactly gravelly though – the word, I think, was in English, which would be just as well. The voice might appear more authentic in ancient Greek, especially if it had utter ancient Greek and I wrote it down and come to find out it indeed was ancient Greek because I don’t know ancient Greek or modern Greek for that matter.
The problem with having an open mind is that while it remains skeptical it also remains open to the unexpected and to the unwitnessed and improvable. I know it is all inside. Everything is. Reality is witnessed by the five senses under normal circumstances. I don’t know if the ‘sixth sense’ is talking or listening to the Dead or if that would be classified as an alternant reality via a self-hypnotic trigger.
Now, I could do something with this. For the sake of the story, I could have Tiresias being joggled up by my last night’s occurrence or mishap and thus come in tune to the chapter in the book. The books are a ghost’s story (Merlyn) anyway so why not?
Okay. Let’s say my thoughts (in the hypnotic/altered state) were as quantum particles. Let’s go the Schrödinger’s cat – half a cat living and half a cat dead. An energy of thought produces a state of half a Tiresias here (in my head) and half a Tiresias not here. He utters a word, which I hear but do not comprehend. A passageway from the Brain Stem through the cerebral aqueduct to the Frontal Lobe.
“Aqueduct: 1b: a structure for conveying a canal over a river or hollow; 2: a canal or passage in a part or organ.” MW
You have returned to the condo in later afternoon. Post what you have while the concept is in its formation. Take a short break then back to it. – Amorella.
Twenty-one hundred hours. You and Carol went for a longer walk on the beach, heading south then north to the condo in the setting sun. You took some photos tonight thinking about how it might be to introduce Tiresias being drawn from the beach with a prophetic vision of first a storm cloud over the Styx and the rise of a sun over the Styx at the same time as being drawn into an entrance to a cave (brainstem) along a cliff (Rt 1, CA) and into a vast cavern (Mammoth Cave image)
Vision – Cloud reflecting a sun over the Styx
Vision – focus on the cloud almost above Tiresias
Vision – First Sunrise over the Styx
Vision over and Tiresias is drawn to Cave Crevice between rocks
For inspiration you have the four photos (taken tonight) above to better visualize what Tiresias envisions. It is a good thing you chose to take a walk when Carol suggested it. - Amorella.
I am picking up a sense of what is going through the mind of Tiresias as he is walking along the River’s edge. I see him as a hardy robust old white bearded head-weathered Greek (six feet and 180 pounds). When seen straight on by others his skeleton appears within but to the side it fades further into the skin. His eyes at first appear normal and bright but as he moves into a vision they turn white paper-like with the pupils the color of black ink. (Somewhat like Merlyn’s eyes which become the pages of the book with his pupils become the black letters of which words are created.)
I could have Tiresias counting down his steps in ancient Greek as he feels a ‘fit’ coming on. (An epileptic-like fit similar to that which Ezekiel has before a vision.) Tiresias holds a walking stick that appears to be made of aged wood but when the sun reflects in his vision the stick appears sun gold. He looks the part of a Dore painting, half shade and half living as he walks in a dual world along the banks of the Styx. I can see this in my head.
His nose appears to have been broken at one time. Stubbornly he chooses to appear old and frail from the back only when one approaches within a few feet does he/she see this is not the case. His hands and feet have an appearance of hard calloused clay at times as if they were selections of a statue that he chose to adopt as his own. Life in Death is he. (Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner) – Perhaps begin with this in poetic form similar to that of Coleridge.
Enough for tonight, boy. The ancient muse dances in your delight. You must become Tiresias, old man. You caught a glimpse in mind as you walked the beach towards the setting sun tonight. Imagine if you will Merlyn and Tiresias having a conversation on a rocky cliff overlooking the Styx. They are studying this scene eight in chapter seven. Merlyn must enter a scene such as this even though he is in the air surrounding you. Both must ‘be’ – one in your right arm, the other, in your left as your fingers hit the keys. Post. – Amorella.
Most utterly cool. I thank my muses all four of them.
Five-in-one, my boy. They dance as Merlyn dances, on the floor of your soul. - Amorella. (Now let that be a lesson to you.)
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