The Gulf is a bright green this morning and I saw two-bottlenose dolphin gingerly swimming south about thirty yards out (just beyond the safe swimming buoys). Another breakfast of banana and blueberry pancakes and an egg each. The banana is because Owen is presently allergic to eggs. The pancakes are even better, thicker and fluffier, with the banana rather than eggs. A pleasant surprise (a few weeks ago) for everyone. Alas, tomorrow we have to take KP&O to the airport at ten of eleven. They are heading for the beach, then the pool on this partly cloudy morning of typically summer Florida puffy’s.
On another subject, I cannot imagine Takis and Ezekiel working together even in a fiction, and if they do wouldn’t some be offended by using an Old Testament prophet in such a manner?
We have gone over this before, boy. People put both Testaments to their selfish uses from time to time. I like to call it “abusing the Dead”, but that’s me, you’re entitled to call it what you wish.
That’s a little harsh, Amorella. I’ve heard of abusing a corpse before, and there are laws against it, but I don’t think there are laws against abusing the Dead. Well, the moral point was brought up in Sophocles’ Antigone. I haven’t thought of that play in years. Wonderfully put, it was; the point was well considered and sharp as King Creon discovered all too late. He did gain and conclude with a bit of wisdom though if I remember correctly.
You stopped to watch from the veranda and to take a couple of photos of Kim, Paul and Owen on the beach. I’ll choose the one to place below.
This is good for a memory. Another generation. This is what a grandpa is supposed to witness. The pile of sand is a turtle for Owen to ride – that’s about all I know. Both are in the early thirties but they look like college kids to me. Paul was telling us about some of his experiences in the operating room last night. Amazing stories of survival or not that one could just not make up. What the OR crews have to do, sometimes in a second or so, to save or to begin saving a person’s life. I would be terrified of causing a fatal error, not my kind of life that’s for sure.
You had a nap and some are readying themselves for dinner in a little over an hour from now. Take a break, and when you return we can catch up on the Dead and this conversation coming up between Takis and Ezekiel.
I’d like to finish the present scene first.
That can be arranged. Post. – Amorella.
Scene 7
Takis blinked twice and focused on granddaughter Gloama, once mother of the future of Earth’s humankind. His left hand reached up to touch the white turban, smiled silently and let his dark eyes do the speaking.
In the moment of quiet, Gloama’s eyes lifted to meet her grandfather’s for a prevailing understanding, a touch, tongue-less of words, is too intimate for either granddaughter or grandfather to admit. What kind of understanding begins as a taste in the mind to be quickly swallowed whole and chewed by heart’s unknowingly sharp teeth, then quickly un-digested, regurgitated from the heart as from a mother robin’s beak slamming down to a recently hatched open-mouthed chick resting in the soul’s nest of what will be. The eyed silence between Gloama and Takis weighed and considered consequences unthinkable by the Living.
Two soul’s exchanged and slid down feathering other’s nest. Each heart had tunneled to each mind and, as its once physical counterpart, developed valves and a beat, a rhythm of circulatory thought. Nothing stood between the two who began dead; who began as little less than air in the first place. Unknowable to either, the pump, the understanding, was already at work.
***
A shift in thought. Another shift in thought. “Grandfather, do you believe the story you told is the Tree’s story?”
“No need to go any further than the Betweeners and the Groves. That is the statement. This Tree is not connected with the Dead.”
“That is a fact?”
“It is clear to me. The illusion of Elysium is that common human consciousness created it. I say this Place was created before there were any Living, before there was any universe at all.”
“This is supposition on your part, Grandfather. You told the story. I heard your voice, not the Tree’s voice.” Then she muttered, “A dream is not a reality.”
“Being dead is not a dream, child. Why would you think such a thing?”
“You are a reader. You know things. You believe things that you know. We are not the same Grandfather. I do not think like you do.”
“You were here first. I came here knowing you.”
“I died first.”
“You did.”
“I went someplace else. Others, human-like in composure were already there. If the Tree’s story is correct as you say, Elysium was already here. Why didn’t I come here first?”
“I do not know. The story did not acknowledge that.” He paused, “However, it is I who suggested this place was here. I said we were in both places at once. You told me then that the concept changed your life.”
She mellowed. “It did. I believed. . . .”
“There, you see, child. You believed first. Why you were delivered to a stranger’s place I do not know. But you realized the mistake.”
“It was a fact, Grandfather. I was there with other Dead. Their hearts were just like ours.”
“Minds are less than hearts.”
“Your mind sets you to realize the heart was not as common as you first thought.”
Gloama pondered, then she said, “When swelled with passion, in argument or otherwise, I cannot tell heart from soul or mind. How can this be done, Grandfather?”
An honest question from childhood, he thought and pondered.
In a more sarcastic and whiny tone than she expected from her mouthless, tongueless self she asked, “Are you going to ask this Tree on the Styx or tell me what you know?”
“You must feel the balance first.”
“You mean they weigh the same?”
“They weigh the same only when weighing from the soul.”
Mother recollected her own thoughts on the subject. “I would think the three are of the same dimensions and tiny ones at that. We think of heartansoulanmind as three-in-one, a trinity, that together makes up our greater sense of self.”
“Then you think of such as a body, a solid, which none of us are. Heart and lungs and liver made up our body, but the only bodies here are memory. Three-in-one? Is this stackable like pieces of bread?” He continued, “Our word begins with the heart, the soul, then the mind. The soul is the center for balance no matter what contains the heart and mind, all three have open doors one into the other.”
Mother replied, “The entrance to the soul is the fulcrum to balance the entrance of the heart and mind.”
Weighty browed, Takis noted, “More for you to know it as the rebellion unfolds.”
***
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