31 July 2011

Notes - conflicted


You were home, unpacked and settled before seventeen hundred hours. You are both happy to have Jadah the Cat back with her adopted family. . . . You watched the national news with some dismay over the budget.

         I’ll keep the politics to myself from now on, or try to. I rant over things and get angry and become just like those who have an opposing perspective.

          Actually, it’s worse than that, orndorff.

         Probably, but I don’t want to talk about it; I don’t even want to think about the politics. Nothing can be done until election time. I wish there were a better way to govern, but there isn’t. No more for tonight. I’m done.

         You think the species is no longer worthy of hope for a better, more humane life for all? – Amorella.

         Not at the moment.

         This is not a true statement. A conflict with heart and mind currently exists. Your soul is hopeful but drowned out by anger at yourself more than with the species.

         Could be, Amorella. I’m done for the night.

         Title this conflicted. Post. – Amorella.

30 July 2011

Notes - a game, not a war /


Early afternoon. Paul is off to the hospital to study; Carol, Kim and Owen are off to a couple ‘children’s stores’ for shopping. You have spent time reading Paul’s new issue of Motor Trend and attempting to download a ten dollar update of Natural Voice (Natural Reader), but the site is having a problem accepting your original serial number, which they say is correct. You would like to continue making CD’s of each chapter.

         I don’t know anything about Podcasts but perhaps I could create a Podcast of the book once it is complete.

         Spent time with Owen, lunch at Stove Oven on Lee, a nap. Almost time for the news. Nothing much going on and you feel as if you are neglecting your writing. This is a cultural subject not a personal (humanity oriented) one so keep the perspective. Your upbringing along with many others is personal responsibility for regulating your time. Strange at it seems, you are mostly lazy and always have been – find the easiest way to do something and get it done. You have the easiest way to write, but getting it done is not by any particular timetable. This is as a chess game, boy, with a lifetime clock limit.

         Who am I playing, who is my/the opponent?

         Use your imagination. You and me versus the world, if you like. – Amorella.

         That’s pretty strong.

         It’s a game, not a war. You’re the romantic, come up with something. – Amorella

         I’ll keep it to myself.

         Not from me though. You can keep nothing from me, pal. Supper is coming on the table.  Post. – Amorella.

29 July 2011

Notes - another misunderstanding, as usual / early evening with the Paik's

Late mid-morning. Newspapers caught up, breakfast, bedroom cleaned up, bath. You are ready to pack for Cleveland or not. Carol has been watering the flowers and lawn since dawn. She also watered yesterday afternoon. No real relief from heat seen until next Wednesday aside from a possible shower today. Possible, not probable, at least in your mind. What do you think about your new-found ‘no’?

         I didn’t like the concept of any direct communication between G---D and any human being, and while this is fiction I ought to have control. First, the concept evokes power to the human or group of human beings. It reminds me of Delphi and the power of the priests and priestesses. Corruption is bound to happen. I don’t want corruption of that sort to be a part of these books even if they are  FICTION.

         That isn’t going to happen, boy. You missed the intent. – Amorella. 

         Probably so. What else is new. I’m glad there is no Piper or Piper-like character in this book, and I hope in any of the others. Too many complications – far beyond my thoughts on metaphysics.

         You are indeed funny, orndorff, knowing full well that most all of this is beyond your full comprehension.  – Amorella        

         I can’t argue with the truth. We are off to Cleveland in a few minutes.

         Post. – Amorella.



You are at The Children’s Center wing of the First Baptist Church in Cleveland Heights picking up Owen. Kim and Carol have gone in for the eighteen month old boy. . . . Supper at Cleveland Heights’ Brennan’s Colony on Lee – a super cheese sandwich with a side of onion rings along with a 7-Up, same for Carol though she had green beans. Kim had a cheeseburger and onion rings. Owen had a cheese stick and half a quarter pounder beef hot dog. Alas, Paul is still in surgery but Kim brought him a take out chicken. . . . . Home, Paul arrives, baby’s had a bath, play time before bed. You are ready for bed and it’s not even twenty-hundred hours. Later, dude, or perhaps tomorrow. – Amorella. 

28 July 2011

Notes - No Piper / Lesson Learned /

         You arrived home shortly after fourteen hundred hours. An hour later, and you are both settled in.

         We caught up on three TV shows from earlier in the week, a snack supper and the news earlier, and that’s it. I have been thinking and I don’t want the Piper in the story.

         I can see that. – Amorella.

         No more with Angels other than what we already have, selections of the Greek Pantheon.

         I can see you are coming from heartansoulanmind on this.

         Funny, I can too. It is interesting to sense this experience. What I am seeing here is that confusion (in myself) arises when the three are not inter-connected. The heart without the soul and the mind – let’s say, when someone is in love, is not love. Is this a good example?

         Possibly. Love can spring from the mind and the soul also, but if the connections are not there, then the chances are slimmer that the love is ‘real’. Also, in here, one can fall out of love, or seem to, if the mind, soul, and heart are not in the same orbit, so to speak.

         I like the concept of this. This can be a hypothesis for how things sometimes break down. How confusions in needs and wants can happen, and so forth.

         It will work in the books, no problem. Post. – Amorella.

         Well, I accomplished something for the book and didn’t need to include ‘new’ angels.

         Chapter Eight is re-written. No Angels. – Amorella. 

         Good. I feel better.

         I am sure you do. - Amorella. 

27 July 2011

Notes - Tethered / topography / Milton

         Remembrance of two birthdays coming up before the end of the month, your mother’s, Mary Laverna Schick-Orndorff and Carol’s father, Granville S. Hammond; both born in 1918.

         A quarter ‘til noon. Everyone had a late breakfast at Flap Jacks near light three in Pigeon Forge. One of Del Mann’s good friends paid for everyone. He was well-thanked for his generosity. Carol and Mary Lou went shopping with Linda and Bill, and Tina and Bobby (Tina is Bill Smith’s sister). Others headed out to Gatlinburg and ‘zip-lining’ a mountain.

         Not my cup of tea. In 1972, Carol and I were on the Pão de Açúcar (Sugar Loaf) Cable Car in Rio, almost to the top, when a storm roared through, seventy mile an hour winds and the car dropped off to the safety cable only. People on the top station finally got a rope to us (about thirty feet way) and pulled us into station. Later, we had no problem going down. I’ll not forget the experience. Some were crossing themselves and otherwise praying; but, it was the little fellow who was the operator, whose frozen face turned white as a sheet when we dropped a few feet that I remember most. I have a few photos from the event but they are at home.

         Drop in one from the net.








** ** 
Sugarloaf Mountain (in Portuguese, Pão de Açúcar), is a peak situated in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, at the mouth of Guanabara Bay on a peninsula that sticks out into the Atlantic Ocean. Rising 396 metres (1,299 ft) above the harbor, its name is said to refer to its resemblance to the traditional shape of concentrated refined loaf sugar.
The mountain is only one of several monolithic morros of granite and quartz that rise straight from the water's edge around Rio de Janeiro. A glass-paneled cable care (in popular Portuguese, bondinho - more properly called teleférico), capable of holding 65 passengers, runs along a 1400-metre route between the peaks of Pão de Açúcar and Cara de Cão every 20 minutes. The original cable car line was built in 1912 and rebuilt around 1972/1973 and in 2008. The cable car goes from the base, not the peak of the Babilônia mountain, to the Urca mountain and then to the Pão de Açúcar mountain.
To reach the summit, passengers take two cable cars. The first ascends to the shorter Morro de Açúcar, 220 meters high. The second car ascends to Pão de Açúcar.The Italian-made bubble-shaped cars offer passengers 360-degree views of the surrounding city. Each car takes you only three minute from start to finish. Departures are available every 20 minutes between 8:00 am and 8:00 pm and the fare is US$11 for Morro de Açúcar or US$22 for the whole way to Pão de Açúcar.  [Wikipedia pic/text]
** **
         Anyway, this is the reason Carol and I were not interested in being tethered by straps and ropes and sent sailing down a series of wires to the bottom of a mountain.

         What did you think, boy, that the cable car was going to fall?

         I don’t remember other than the operator’s face told me this was not a normal experience. Not only did we stop dead in our track, but we dangled and swayed in the strong winds. I was more concerned that the swaying arcs were going to pull us off the safety cable. I didn’t think any further than that. Didn’t see the need to, I suppose. I read in the above text that the cars and cable were replaced in 1972-73, so that tells me something. The cars were old and small, I did not realize the equipment was installed in 1912. Actually, the car was rather quaint. I liked it – reminded me of old beautiful, wooden framed trolley cars used in the forties and early fifties. You still see them used, mostly for tourists I imagine, in Memphis and New Orleans.

         How do I get off the subject? It amazes me how I jump from one thing to another. I wonder if everyone thinks like this.

         Post. – Amorella.


Late afternoon, and you are sitting at the dining room table enjoying the quiet and the view. Earlier you stopped up at Jean and Bob’s cabin – way up at the top for the best view.



According to Wikipedia:

Great Smoky Mountains National Park is a United States National Park and UNESCO World Heritage Site that straddles the ridgeline of the Great Smoky Mountains, part of the Blue Ridge Mountains, which are a division of the larger Appalachian Mountain chain. The border between Tennessee and North Carolina runs northeast to southwest through the centerline of the park. It is the most visited national park in the United States. On its route from Maine to Georgia, the Appalachian Trail also passes through the center of the park. [Wikipedia]
** **

        Shows what I know. I always want to add the ‘e’ between the ‘k’ and ‘y’. Not worth changing. The mountains do appear smoky and they have the ‘blue ridge’. Too much travelogue I can’t think of any use for this in the books.

         I can. Topography of one of the ancient cultures.

         Which one?

         China. We can find a use for such a description. – Amorella.

         I don’t think China looks anything like this.

         You can find a similar example.

         Then why not use an authentic example?

         Don’t get carried away on your ‘authenticity’ boy. The topographical line between fact and fiction doesn’t really float in this book. Remember what Milton said about the separation of Heaven and Hell?

         Here are the lines from Book One:

Nine times the Space that measures Day and Night [ 50 ]
To mortal men, he with his horrid crew

Lay vanquisht, rowling in the fiery Gulfe

Confounded though immortal: But his doom

Reserv'd him to more wrath; for now the thought

Both of lost happiness and lasting pain [ 55 ]

Torments him; round he throws his baleful eyes

That witness'd huge affliction and dismay

Mixt with obdurate pride and stedfast hate:

At once as far as Angels kenn he views

The dismal Situation waste and wilde, [ 60 ]

A Dungeon horrible, on all sides round

As one great Furnace flam'd, yet from those flames

No light, but rather darkness visible

Serv'd onely to discover sights of woe,

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace [ 65 ]

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes
That comes to all; but torture without end

Still urges, and a fiery Deluge, fed

With ever-burning Sulphur unconsum'd:

Such place Eternal Justice had prepar'd [ 70 ]

For those rebellious, here thir Prison ordain'd

In utter darkness, and thir portion set

As far remov'd from God and light of Heav'n

O how unlike the place from whence they fell! [ 75 ]

There the companions of his fall, o'rewhelm'd

With Floods and Whirlwinds of tempestuous fire,

He soon discerns, and weltring by his side

One next himself in power, and next in crime,

Long after known in Palestine, and nam'd [ 80 ]

Beelzebub. To whom th' Arch-Enemy,

And thence in Heav'n call'd Satan, with bold words

Breaking the horrid silence thus began.
[Paradise Lost: Book One]
** **
         What wonderful words!

         Post. – Amorella. 

26 July 2011

Notes - an attempted education / left hand of God /

Mid-morning. You and Bill have been regulated to the lower level for the duration of a “Women’s Breakfast” by command of Jean the soon to be bride. You are sitting in a large black chair. The back moves as does the footrest.

         I cannot remember what these chairs are called. Last night when one young fellow introduced himself I really had to reach to find my name. It was only a second but it seemed like five minutes while I searched with a – who am I? Actually, to whom one is the name is not that important except when being called or introduced, remembering one’s name evidently takes up more energy than I like to give it. You are here whether you have a name or not.

         That’s the reason I said much earlier in this game (of chess) that the Dead can make up a new name to give themselves if they like. Everyone does, mostly for the convenience others.

         I wonder how these twelve cultures of long ago are going to be once everyone realizes they can move from one culture to another?

         Pretty much like your present day. There are parallels, you know. – Amorella.

         I realize this sometimes but usually it slips my mind. There is just too much, Amorella.

         The words have a purpose boy; I didn’t come here for the joy of seeing the Living.

         I’ll go along with you here for experimental purposes. You weren’t thinking about how much the Living are affected/effected by time in their everyday life. Many people don’t have the time to read a regular novel because of pressing everyday engagements and obligations.

         I understand, orndorff. It is you who doesn’t understand the nature of how things are and why. I’m attempting to give you an education, young man. – Amorella.

         Well, I do have the time, that is, until I don’t. I can live with that easily enough. 

         Nobody’s any different in that score. Bound books last longer than an individual as you well know. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, and Melville are quite alive in your mind, that’s the point, and since you are hardly alive as is, reading your own head keeps you conscious, much more so than you not writing and reading as you or I move along the page. Post. – Amorella.

          I'm sure some people who know me wonder how are why I would spend so much time reading and writing when there is a whole world of four dimensional wonder out there for exploration. I am content though in this day and age of my body to look inward. It would be interesting to look inward into someone other than myself but it takes less energy and time to look into myself instead. I'm sure there are more things to be consciously aware of. I am all for learning what makes our species what it is, if I can venture to see what there is to see within and can see if it applies to other humans that I know. If it does, then that's what is really important. We are a more important species than we give ourselves credit for, that's what I think, and there are reasons for this, this is my ultimate search, for those reasons. - rho

           You really do not know. This is your rationale. You feel better about yourself with such thinking. No harm in that in this circumstance, boy. Now, post. - Amorella

         After twenty-one hundred hours and you are sitting at the table at your cabin. Ashley, Patti (Linda’s best friend from Otterbein College days), Carol and Mary Lou have returned also and the four girls are heading for the first level hot tub, which is just fine with you. The four o’clock wedding was fine; everyone was having a good time when you left. The present quiet is rather pleasant.


         I want to know more about the Piper. You used the “SheanHe” pronoun so I imagine the Piper to be both similar and different from you as a character. I would like to set up a character photo and personality under “Characters.Bk.4” for a record; I can’t remember the number of characters now. It seems to me that the Piper is somewhat like the Fates in Greek mythology. . . . I have been re-reading the sense and sensibility of The Eleusinian Trinity: Persephone, Triptolemos and Demeter. 

** **
According to the personal mythology of Robert Graves, Persephone is not only the younger self of Demeter, she is in turn also one of three guises of the Triple Goddess — Kore (the youngest, the maiden, signifying green young corn), Persephone (in the middle, the nymph, signifying the ripe ears waiting to be plucked), and Hecate (the eldest of the three, the crone, the harvested corn), which to a certain extent reduces the name and role of Demeter to that of group-name.   [Wikipedia – “Demeter”]
** **

         Is the Piper a ‘greater’ combination of the three Fates, something more than the Fates themselves? The three Fates have been used in the first three books if I remember correctly. I am thinking of how you, as the Supervisor, can be whatever you need to be in terms of influence. You only become the “energy” that is Necessary to influence an event (not a circumstance). The change the circumstance appears to be a different direction of influence. Or, am I off base here? This is what trickles through to consciousness in any case.

         Think of the Piper as the left hand of G---D and let it go. – Amorella.  

         In context (as I see it; although a few comment that the Left Hand of God is the Devil) I have found this:
** **
This Archangel is 'over Paradise' Gabriel sits at the left hand of God, and is the angel of incarnation, of conception and birth and of dreams. Gabriel's emblem is the lily, symbolizing conception, and it is Gabriel who instructs souls for the nine months before they enter the world.

And,

Historical and Literary References: Gabriel's Name means "Hero of God." Angel of Revelation and Chief Ambassador to humanity. Apart from Michael, Gabriel is the only other Angel mentioned by Name in the Old Testament. He was said to sit on the left hand side of God. In many religious, writings Gabriel has appeared as a messenger and deliverer to humanity of blessed events. Mohammed claimed that it was Gabriel (Gibril in Islamic) who dictated to him the Koran. In Christian beliefs, Gabriel was the Angel who appeared to Mary to inform her that she would conceive and give birth to Jesus. In addition, Gabriel also appeared before Zacharias to announce that his son will be called John (the Baptist). [From: www.greatdreams.com/archangels.htm
** **

         For our purposes this will work. Obviously, the Left Hand of G---D is anthropomorphic and is not actually G---D, but it is, in here, a direct thought from G---D.

         I thought we were not going higher than Angelic creatures.

         Gabriel is an Arch Angel. SheanHe is a ‘wireless transmission line’ from a “Far Away (Dimensionally) One to One directive/communication.

         This makes me concerned that even as a fiction I am walking into an area where Angels (if they exist at all) might fear to tread.

         In here Angels fear nothing, boy. – Amorella.

         I have an ‘understanding’ of this circumstance which may be an illusion, a mistake, a misunderstanding or just plain imagination.

         We will use this in chapter eight. If at its conclusion you wish to edit after what you see in context you may do so, or delete it all and we will begin chapter eight again. However, this is what is in your head whether you accept it or not. – Amorella.

         Fair enough.

         Post, as it is time for bed. – Amorella.



25 July 2011

Notes - Foggy Mountain / pics /

Mid-morning and you had breakfast, cleaned up, and are now sitting on the porch above some of the high hills leading into the Great Smokey Mountains. It has been raining but the sun is coming out and the summer heat is directly felt. The clouds are rolling in between the hills. The sun has retreated as the clouds begin encompassing the trees just south of the porch (deck) that sits about sixty feet above the ground.

         Soon the cloud (fog) will be setting between my head and the MBA where run my fingers on the keys – one of the most satisfyingly exercises in my life.

         You are thinking about an image of four mountain ranges and in the valley (cloud/fog) of each range hovers the heart, the soul, and the mind. The sun raises the fog until it drifts over the range into the next or back over onto the preceding range and valley; the effects caused the heat of passion (present or memory or mixed) rather than the sun. Your wireless code was just inserted, so go ahead and post. Title: Foggy Mountain. – Amorella.


         Later, morning. The girls all left to go shopping at a large mall near entering Pigeon Forge from the north. You and Bill are going to lunch later (for which you are both thankful for not having to go the shopping circuit). You took three pictures from the deck, chose yourself in the photo because people rarely see you without your beret. People know what clouds and fog look like. Insert here:



         It is rather embarrassing to post a photo of myself. The fog is creeping in by the tree leaves behind me. I just took one from where I am sitting – the cabin living room is more interesting. The photo was taken from where I am sitting at the far end of the table. We are two thirds up the mountain at the Sherwood Forest Resort just outside of Pigeon Forge as it leans towards Gatlinburg. The wedding of Jean Smith and Bob Mann takes place in one of the nearby cabins tomorrow afternoon.



         The photo below is from the table looking towards our bedroom and kitchen. I just noticed both photos are reversed by these are close enough for interest.

         Why don’t you reverse them?

         It doesn’t seem worth the effort.

         But they are not accurate, nor is your own, it is reversed also.

         They are accurate enough. Views can pretend they are viewing the photos in a mirror, that should be accurate enough.



         It is your call, orndorff. You are normally fussier. – Amorella.

         The photos are not so important except in context. The wedding and the people are important but the rest of this is not so much, at least in my mind.

         Post. – Amorella. 

23 July 2011

Note - gallows humor / suck it up / The Piper in Grandma's Story Nine, Bk.1 (I was enlightened!:-)

        Three minutes til noon. Spent the morning on chores, errands, and reading the newest Time, which arrived about an hour ago.

         I found a really good piece of dark humor on the top of page 64 (August 8/Time). The article is “Ten Questions”. This time the questions are asked to Alan Simpson, a former GOP senator. The second question was about the national debt:

** **
How bad is it? Could the U.S. become the next Greece?

As my pal Erskine [Bowles, co-chairman of the deficit-reduction commission] says, “We’re the healthiest horse in the glue factory.”
** **

         My mind went immediately to those senior citizens in their eighties who consider themselves in the best of health. Love the perspective.

         You won’t make it to the eighties, boy. – Amorella.
        
         I cannot imagine that I would, Amorella.

         You’ve more to do around the house plus errands. Later, dude. Post. – Amorella.

        You brought up a sobering thought.

          So did you.

         Gallows humor is what it is.

          So are you, boy. - Amorella. 


          Once I left the blog I remembered what thought I woke up to this morning. I remembered the full phrase: “May God bless you.” So, when a person uses the full phrase it makes sense and is a kind statement. Sometimes when a person sneezes one responds to the sneezer “God bless you.” I have used it myself, but in a sense, it is like a command to God. It is a matter of grammar. And, it reminded me of our “good-bye” which originally was “God be with ye.” Well, that is what I have read. I like the full sentence but no one uses that anymore.

A character in my position cannot afford to be a grammarian. Heartansoulanmind cannot afford to think in words, my man. Perhaps you can now better understand why. – Amorella.

         Yes, this is also sobering.

         You’re still free, boy. Suck it up. Post. – Amorella.



         Lunch at LongHorn, alas Jennifer has the day off, but the food was excellent. You had steak and Carol had chicken – you split a tossed salad with honey mustard dressing. No dessert. Carol is at Kroger’s on Tylersville picking up last minute items for the trip. Mary Lou is arriving this evening. Earlier it took a while to discover how to find these resort cabins because the address was not on Tom-Tom. You did find a church address (which you plugged into the GPS) on the first road off the main street through Pigeon Forge. The second road you should run into and the third road you’ll have to keep a lookout for.

         It took some time. First, I went to MapQuest but that was not much help. Second, Google Earth worked best though that took some time. Fun research though. Plus, I could see the Christmas Store we all are supposed to meet at in Pigeon Forge. I think it is the biggest store in the whole town, it looks that way on Google Earth in any case. – It is hot again today I did find a little shade for the front car window though, shade helps.

         It doesn’t help the Dead.

         How is that anyway? People like to say “it is hotter than hell” or “it is colder than hell”. What is the (meta)physics in the books. I get the idea you mentioned earlier, that heartsanminds can be imprisoned in the soul for their own good (although I thought the soul is smaller than the heartanmind. Maybe it is just my own that is that way as the soul is a one-room school house (poetic imagery) and the heart a cathedral in imagery. I assume Dante is responsible for the “colder than hell” as Satan is frozen waist deep in the pit of the Ninth Circle. But what about hot? Is that a kind of volcanic image – lava and fire coming from Earth’s center, from under the ground, hell?

         In here, the heart and mind are ‘conditionals’ not nouns. As Milton says  “You can make a Heaven of Hell or a Hell of Heaven” We are fiction here, boy so we might as well make the best of it. -  Amorella.

         So, what you think is where you are?

         Now, that is a statement with humor and wit too. – Amorella.

         I don’t see the humor or the wit, It is a straight forward statement.

         Think about it and you’ll see why the soul of the Dead may enrapture the heartanmind. It’s for the best, my boy. Rules is rules. The Piper both gives and takes away. No exceptions.

         I did not realize this about the Piper. How does he effect/affect the Rebellion?

         SheanHe may provide the circumstance. You have a good example of this in one of Grandma’s Stories. Pop it in here and that will do for today, maybe tomorrow too, depending on how busy the family is. Give you something to think about as I already used this several times actually, but one is quite easy to see. The “zero” story.

         This “Grandma’s Story” is from Chapter Nine of book one, Braided Dreams. It was fun to write because the world would have been different if she and others (at the time and circumstance) had taken the time to understand it’s meaning.
** **
Grandma’s Story – Nine [Braided Dreams]

         I listen in to everything people are thinking. I got me a story that will fit this situation just fine. People discover mysteries in the world, and think some of them are supernatural. Just like the pea-sized ghost a few stories back. It is a natural thing to be interested in the ocean when you are born, raised, and die on an island to begin with. The ocean becomes second nature, so to speak, and second nature is what this story targets.

         First nature is what you see in this story. Second nature is what you don’t see. People think of one’s second nature as habit, but it is more of a habitat instead. The habitat is in the mind of a human being. In this case, it is an aboriginal walking alone along the ocean. Her name was Abbatoot. Three thousand years ago she was walking that beach the same time King Simon was being drawn to death for revenge.

Now, you would think there would not be a connection, but nature is not as it seems, just as people aren’t as they seem either. Grandma Earth has a few tricks up her sleeve, you see, she always holds a few extra aces if she needs them. Some people silently think they can deal straight on with me even though they say out loud, “You won’t catch me messing with Mother Nature.” Grandma knows the inside truth.

         “You won’t catch me messing with Mother Nature,” is what young Abbatoot muttered because a great storm just passed through. She felt lucky to just have lived through it. An old soothsayer had told the tribe the storm was coming because he felt it in his elbows and knees and when he felt it in four joints at the same time he had come to understand it would be one hell of a storm, and that is he told them. About half the tribe stayed. The other half walked to higher ground where they felt more protected.

Those who stayed knew better but there is a courageous thrill in meeting Mother head on. People who are conditioned to weather large storms know what I’m talking about. It is very exciting in the moments of confrontation. Suddenly you feel you may not survive whatever it is Mother Nature is throwing your way. You begin to realize the weather is not about you. This is the point when the excitement disappears and people begin praying to the goddesses and gods of their choice to let them survive, even if they survive whimpering.

         Abbatoot was whimpering and humbly thankful she survived. She believed the moon goddess had saved her because when she awoke the skies were clear and the half moon sat in the western sky opposite the morning sun . She had heard a story as a child that moon’s brother, the sun, followed her across the sky because even though he was brighter than she was, she was a shape changer and he wasn’t. Shape changers are not fully trustworthy because you don’t really know who they are. Just because the moon goddess appeared only half full rather than full didn’t mean the goddess wasn’t completely full all the time.

         While walking along the beach she came to think that the truth in the world was like that too, that half a truth was sometimes more honest than the full truth appeared. Half a truth leaves room for imagination and wonder, the full truth is a full fact of nature though some of the full fact remains hidden. Brother sun and sister moon still follow one another across the sky east to west. Even the star lights follow this direction.

         The north and south sky points hit her questioning mind that morning on her walk. What comes up on the north and goes down in the south? She had no idea. Whatever it was, it wasn’t visible, it was like half the moon. Visible or not, she began to wonder if two objects also moved across the father sky from the north to the south or even from the south to the north. She had no idea. The four points suddenly came together. I am four points plus one. Then she observed her right hand closely. I have five points at the end of each of the four points. She made and gave a separate sound for each of the twenty points and one more for the top point. Twenty-one sounds for twenty-one points.

         A vision flashed. What would I be without any points at all? She imagined a body without the limb extensions. What would be the point of no limbs and a head? All thought and no action. What could you do but dream your life away? Thought dreams. You can see thoughts while awake, but you cannot see dreams unless you are asleep.

The sun and moon move from east to west, so what moves from north to south? Thoughts move from the north and dreams move from the south. Who chases whom across the sky of the mind? Thoughts come in like waves. Dreams are solid, like the land. The thoughts are as water and nourish the dreams. The beach, which stretches east to west following the sun and moon is real, but dreams are a different real. A thought or the dream, which is first? Thoughts are cold as the moon is cold, the sun is hot as is the sex organ to the south of the head.

Cold moon thoughts and hot sexed sun dreaming. What a mix. She glanced over her naked body. I have twenty digits plus two arms and two legs equals twenty-four digits, plus a head and you have twenty-five digits. Plus, I have a nose and two ears and thus I have twenty-eight extensions, men have twenty-nine. A moon from quarter to half to quarter to full is four in twenty-eight to twenty-nine days. Thus, the moon and human extensions have a commonality. Plus, people have natural rhythm. ‘Whenever the sun and moon do meet, thoughts and dreams center at the feet. Toe touching is where we beings most often touch our Mother.’

I keep an eye on incidentals and fish along beach’s way and think of Mother and how she would walk through the Dead. As I walk nervous and faster, I find my thumbs touching the inner part of my middle fingers which bend slightly as my forefingers extend slightly. Abbatoot observed a large tower cloud separate at its head out over the ocean and another to the west. Two wispy clouds, spread like long thin wings with a 5 or S shape in the middle. Abbatoot stopped and with a shell made a replica in the sand of the S sign of the cloud. She concluded the cloud sign means something.

Abbatoot glances back up as the sign drifted. The cloud head drifted west. Suddenly and without provocation, she turned around and headed back to her tribe. It is right not to go on, thought Abbatoot. It is better not to kill the shaman who ordered us to leave our place. He had a right to order us. Likewise, we who decided to stay and weather the storm had the right not to go. We each decide our own way.

Following the beach back to her people Abbatoot thought about how grateful she was to still have her limbs attached to her body. She did not know if the tower cloud felt any pain when his head was severed by the west winds meeting the east winds but she hoped it was quick and painless. The 5 or S sign with wings she never deciphered, but she was sure the moon had something to do with it. She got back to her tribe and said, “I know something I did not know. The moon makes white cloud signs in the sky.”

Later, even the shaman was amazed that she had discovered this about the moon, and he spend days making the S mark she had copied from the wispy cloud wings in the sky. Even more astounding was the fact that she mentioned a human body without limbs. In those days, only the shamans knew that the eternal ancestors, the Ungambikula, rose up in Dreamtime, before humans were completely created. They found the humans doubled over in clumps of shapeless sacks near the water holes and with stone knives the Ungambikula carved limbs and faces and hands and feet and finished the humans. After this was completed the Ungambikula went back into the earth, into the eternal great sleep, but the shamans knew this. Only the shamans knew another great secret: the ancient Dreamtime still exists between the beat of each person’s heart.

How did Abbatoot know the fact that humans at one time had no limbs? How did she make up the sounds for the counting of numbers? No one knew. The old shaman was past the age of worrying and trying to comprehend such things. If she knew something he did not know, he would take the time to learn it.

Thus Abbatoot helped him memorize the separate sounds she gave to the numbers of digits human beings had, right up through twenty-nine. What he liked best though was her description of dreams. Dreams are solid, she told him. Dreamland is invisible on the outside but it is a reality nevertheless. The shaman pointed to the north and secretly told another shaman, “We know Dreamtime, now we two know the Ungambikula’s sleeping place, it is presently under the lands in the north.”

         Grandma laughed, “Those two shamans kept at it until the end of their days, Neither could understand how Abbatoot, who did not get along with most everybody, could have learned a secret about Dreamtime and also gather something from the moon goddess that they did not already know. Beside that, she named things that didn’t exist, the numbers from one up through twenty-nine. Some tried to imagine one more extension on the human body, but they could not come up with a place or a name and neither could Abbatoot. One day Abbatoot came running to the shaman and said, “I thought of one more! The belly button!”

         The shaman laughed and said, “Don’t tell anyone.” He did not know what else to say, but he continued,  “The belly button is not an extension at all, Abbatoot, it is something less than one.”

Grandma bent over and slapped her thighs then as she stood she readjusted her large bosoms unconsciously, she broke into more laughter. “I guess you had to be there to get the joke,” she said, “I gave that shaman and Abbatoot an immediate slap of a sudden hot breath of north wind out of nowhere, but neither of them thought on the connection.” Grandma gleefully  chanted,

The button is rounder than a digit of one,
And sits in the belly as a visual lesson.

What once was for feeding and appearing quite square

Is left as nothing but a fleshy dip in the air.


Today Abbatoot would be quite a hero
For discovering, then inventing, the wonderful zero

Alas, it was not to be in those times,
But, for a windy Grandma it makes a fair rhyme --

And, shortly from my old and earthy gums,

Merlyn’s mind of a future this Moon-way comes.
         ***