Mid-morning, and you have run a couple of errands already and want to do some yard work before it is too hot. You have been wondering how it could be that there are at least 108 billion people dead and you figure many more as the book goes back further, to 180 thousand years to your “Mother”. Fiction is so much easier, is it not?
I cannot imagine 108 billion people let alone 108 billion hearts and souls. The ‘spiritual engine’ that runs such machinery or system must have a counterpart of the formation of a universe. Well, to explain the system in human terms I would assume an analogy could be set up. Perhaps not for the book, but for myself. I would like to get a grasp of this with some kind of analogy.
First, the analogy I used, the triangle, in yesterday’s post, brought confusion to you in bed last night as you were thinking, ‘how can there be an eclipse when there is no orbit – it is a triangle and an equilateral triangle at that.’
We are not dealing with physics here, orndorff. The analogy of the triangle in terms of separation of heart, soul and mind was all it was for. If you need something, think bisecting an angle in such a way that the mind separates the soul from the heart or the soul separates the heart from the mind, something along those lines. Pun intended, boy. – Amorella.
As for a ‘spiritual engine’ analogy with the known universe you live it – again, it is possible in part to create such an analogy but ultimately it will be faulty if for no other reason that the unknown aspects of the universe cannot be included, and in fact, the spiritual aspects are a part of that unknown – thinking: reason, purpose, objective – those and like unconsidered elements. – Amorella.
Okay, will the nature of the six books, as a single unit of fiction shed some light on this particular question?
Yes, in terms of your gaining some understanding, which if you live long enough, you will. You in particular because you are ‘experiencing’ the process of the books. The reader who is so interested will have to have felt the experiences of the books also. This entails something more than imagination alone. The intuition derived has to be from the point of view of Merlyn, he who rides and plays the Board. Merlyn’s mind, you see, is the key. Tiresias and Takis also show by example. And Ezekiel too – the ancient mind-dance of the shamans. Understanding means more than knowledge. This is how the books work, boy. This is how the notes are. Being more fully conscious alive is similar to being more consciously dead than one would expect in these books.
This is much more fun than creating a best seller.
Indeed, for you it is, young man. Post. – Amorella.
You are wondering how it is in life that maybe only three or four times total have you witnessed someone naked within, that is, you have seen a glimpse of something eternal within, something underneath layers and layers of ‘humanity’ – the raw sense of the person, completely vulnerable, completely stripped of body but for something sensed in the background of the eye, the optical nerve and beyond. And, for you, each time an empathy, a connection, not with the whole of the person observed, but with the heart or the soul of the person, and in the process you felt connected to that particular part drilled into and the cement is firm in patch and it is as if the sense of touch, fingerless felt and realized it had touched something that is within and generally hidden from the outside physical world.
I am glad you brought the words forth, Amorella. I don’t know if I am expressing myself, but it is a memory intimate and real and I wonder if this is what it is for the Dead in the story. Sometimes a privacy exists within that is glimpsed by another and nakedness that knows no bounds. It is the art and or the music of the person, their passion raw, their heart? Their soul? Or, both, or perhaps something even beyond the heartansoulanmind? Is such a thing possible, or is it an internal wishful thinking, an illusion of intimacy, a hope that such a thing exists within others and thus also within one’s self? Alas, I am back to Sartre and self-delusion. Why do we need such stuff as over-imagination? Why do I myself appear to need it?
Such a thing is an experience felt by yourself, its intimacy is only your own. Sorry, old man, but that’s the way it is. Post. – Amorella.
At least it is not a self-delusion.
No. It is not, at least not from my perspective. – Amorella.
** **
It is strange that I can personally accept this from a being/personality that may be an illusion herself.
You have had time to think on it. People have all kinds of self-delusions, where would the hope be without them.
That’s a rather cruel thought.
Delusions help some survive terrible things.
No doubt, true.
What was it your Grandma Schick used to say?
“If wishes were horses beggars would ride.”
Let’s tidy up what we have for this scene so far.
Scene 8
This is the Supervisor. Nearby, in Elysium, along the River Styx, the old Greek seer, Tiresias, from the days before Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey, will stumble into a vision and a singular occurrence not hitherto anticipated. Before this, however, he will greet our Merlyn, also a seer, though not quite so old. This kicks their intuitions up a notch as happenstance is not always what it seems. Upon their greeting, Merlyn senses The Chessboard beneath his naked feet while Tiresias’ fingers quiver slightly as he holds his ancient-looking walking stick. Merlyn immediately recognizes Tiresias as a helpful source, which raises Tiresias’s incredulous nature.
“The white of your eyes is paper and not of the Dead, Merlyn,” suggested Tiresias matter-of-factly. “I know you Merlyn, and I know you have a task but I see no need to be drawn closer to the Board under your feet than I already am.”
“You are a good one to talk, Tiresias, with skull bone showing from front to back. Drop that toga white dressing and show yourself whole. You are greater here, than I even with conformation.”
Tiresias turned to the right and pointed out at the Styx and said, “I stay along the River’s edge where I am most comfortable. The Living call for me still based on the early days.”
“I came calling for you here, Tiresias. You do not have to come to me. Paper, I am, in part, a long stretch from this place. Our rebellion will take place in the spirit with or without you. Only you can add your heart in the process.”
“Unlike you, I have no heart to hide, Merlyn,” said Tiresias, and he pulled off his toga-like garment leaving only folds of a loincloth wrapped about him. “Who am I to meet that I must show my heart?”
Merlyn watched in awe to see the skeletal bones shimmering within a loosely shaded sack of body. He replied succinctly, “Panagiotakis.”
Tiresias right arm raised his walking stick as if to playfully joust. He laughed, “I need no use of heart to see He-Who-Is-First.” Then he added, “Why does Takis send you when he can meet with me at his leisure?”
Merlyn gestured with downward open arms and palms but said nothing.
Tiresias envisioned Merlyn vertical and four-cornered flat. Merlyn’s marginal eyes rolled from left to right and down in horizontal trails of semi-decipherable symbols. The last word on the page, though foreign, was understandable through heartansoulanmind within Tiresias’s Hebrew pronunciation as he responded, “Ye-che-z-kel” to Merlyn.
Merlyn put himself in order though he appeared as he had been, unchanged. A polite thank-you-for-your-services was mutually understood and accepted. Merlyn became as air. Tiresias turned round, put on his dressings, and continued lumbering along in clay-like feet, and with walking stick in clay-like hand, in the direction of the path up and along twenty foot high rocky cliff besides the wide-rivered Styx.
The seemingly snap of twig. Tiresias glanced down the rocky cliff to his left, he hadn’t taken but a step forward when he detected a sudden slight shift of cool wind coming from a rugged but nearly vertical crevice two arms lengths long and one arm length wide. The Styx rolled on another fifteen feet below the crevice. Unlike the river, the cave smelled freshly created. A rush of air hissed out of the hole. He stopped, turned, and carefully climbed down five feet from the path. Curious, Tiresias stuck his face inside as a thought occurred that he was being re-birthed within an emptiness surrounding cleaned gray granite. He continued sniffing for a whiff of the fresh air that lingered upon his arrival at the rocky scene.
Intuitively and childlike Tiresias, thinking ‘rejoice’ in ancient Greek, uttered, “Khai-reh,” He waited but there was no voiced response. Tiresias sensed the remanet, a flitting of soul shadow in his mind, the flat rippling shadow of a living human soul traveling further into the small cave.
Tiresias muttered, “As a fish out of water, one can nose the Living out.” He thought, this must be Merlyn’s doing. A challenge of resources is what he needs. Takis will need them too. Do we dance to Ezekiel or does Ezekiel dance to us? A soul’s passage for the dance. The mind and heart do meet at the feet. Back up the rocks and onward at the path until path and I are one and mind runs one way and I run the other. Heart or soul, I will not know which as neither were made from this place, Elysium.
Once down the path to the Styx’s edge Tiresias stepped in to feel the comfort of the water running through his toes. Soul to heart and heart to mind. That is my reckoning thought as his own darkness turned inward and made his shade translucent. Giving up the mind to that which is much older is as undressing the heart and burning its clothes. What is more ancient that a soul of humankind? The soul – the engine of all that becomes light. Reason’s eternal birthplace; or so Tiresias thinks and settles on – Reason’s birthplace.
Zeus catches a glimpse and gains a small smile. What is this? Tiresias at Olympus? Called by whom? In a vision: Hades as a goddess be.
“I raise Tiresias up to the apex of our spiritual mountain. I run the Dead brother or the Dead run me.”
“What do you mean?”
“The mighty Zeus asks me a question.”
“They are, all the earthly Dead, are gathering at the River and do not know it yet.”
“We cannot change our clothes.”
“Then we will dance naked, Zeus, unless you can contain them.”
“Bloodless thought,” grumbled Zeus. “A rebellion.”
“Diversion,” whispered Athena from afar. And, both gods listened.
** **
Scene eight completed for now. – Amorella.
It is rather long and I am unsure of the addition of Olympus and the gods here.
Talk to me about it after scene nine, boy. Post. – Amorella.
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