Almost noon. Carol, Kim and Brennan are at Carter’s on Mayfield near I-271. You are parked at the far end of the lot next to Panera so as to use their free WiFi.
I checked my email, nothing much; but BBC has an article on the ongoing CERN experiments. I’ve gotten so I like to post the science articles on my Facebook page. They are changing the format of the page and I’m not particularly up to it. You are supposed to write about your life but that is pretty much what I do here on the blog. The concept makes me uncomfortable but I do not know why.
You are uncomfortable because while this is a working blog with a purpose you do not see the purpose in making a scrapbook of your life except for family and well, some family who might be interested. This is your thinking: “my life is not that important, certainly a lot less important than my imaged purpose of being a writer, something I have wanted to be most of my adult life.”
It rather makes me sound rather self-centered, selfish and worst of all, inconsiderate or impolite when it comes to being socially minded.
Yes, it does. Facebook is a social network; you however, are not. Nothing could be simpler, boy. – Amorella
What do I do when I have no choice but to change or drop Facebook?
The minimum required; be polite to family and friends if for no other reason. – Amorella
Thank you for the help, Amorella. This dilemma has been bothering me, particularly since I see several of my friends working on the new ‘standard’ page.
Put a few photos of yourself growing up, your wedding, Kim growing up, her wedding, your grandsons, a Class of 1960 reunion and a class-gathering photo. Photos of schools you have taught at (scan an old yearbook photo or two). No photos of students. Set it up by decades, then let it go. – Amorella
That sounds like a lot of work, certainly more than a minim.
You were appointed one of the two associate editors of your high school yearbook by the editor-in-chief, Fritz M. – Amorella
The title was unofficial. Ken C. was the other associate editor of The Searchlight.
When it needs to be done, do it. Pictures are fun. You take enough of them. You share some on Facebook and with old friends. No false pride needed here, boy, nor false arrogance either. – Amorella
Dusk. You did your exercises and skipped supper after having a medium chicken and veggie calzone for lunch. You took a nap but as dusk approached Owen began wheezing and having other breathing problems so you and Paul are over at the hospital ER. You are waiting in the car. As you told Paul, you brought your MacAir ‘pacifier’ but forgot your phone. As you want to be productive here, let’s go to chapter eight, scene seven. – Amorella
***
Scene 7, Chapter 8, Book 4 – a draft
Arthur sat in contemplation seeking a similarity with Merlyn and slowly evolved himself into a metaphor and from a metaphor into an image of an original seed that had been ejaculated dry from who knows where into who knows what – an arrow into a tree. He considered, which end am I – the arrowhead or the feather end? He mumbled, “Are the feathers set to lean right or left?”
“Are you an arrow, my king?” humored Merlyn.
“Feather or head?”
“It takes both ends to hit the target.”
“But only the point matters,” chuckled Arthur.
“The aim matters first,” said Merlyn drily. “What is your thinking here?”
Arthur fell into a sheepish expression then told Merlyn his thoughts. “When you were speaking of being displaced of body and rolling grammatical thoughts into a weave of tapestry – pronouns and antecedents and such I was thinking more physical and direct – first of my own conception at Tintagel – then of making love with Guenevere. My enthusiastic love seed, an unquivered and frantically taut then loosed arrow seed flying deep in search of its dark-tunneled love target. The point, the target, is more important than the feathers and shaft. The arrow’s tip is random sent it must find its own way.”
“A king who does not work with fate?” replied Merlyn. “This is not my Arthur’s mind at work on old Merlyn’s analogy here. Some things fall into necessity’s command. We twelve ancient world cultures are satisfactorily glued to the inner top of the womb if you will. And, womb attaches to navel’s cord, and so directed I, swim as it were in artery and vein, connecting the inside reality to the outside physics, connecting heartansoulanmind to the body of heaven. I travel the anatomy of the underworld and may touch that which is allowed me. Time is a one-way flowing river meeting its circumstantial and spacious banks. I run within the river bed itself and my venture downstream or up. It makes no difference as I am not defined by nor do I touch either the flow or the river’s edge along the way. I run along the outer artery or vein wall not within.”
With wonder Arthur remarked, “All this within the body of Heaven?”
“Why not? Look at you, who were once a body and still think like you are though you are not. The king’s heartansoulanmind were in the body once, but where? And how so placed there in the beginning?”
“I do not know, Lord Merlyn.”
“Nor do I but one does not need to understand the making of a tree from the inside out, roots to leaves, to trim the tree for use as a mighty bow and arrow shaft. I, like you and all others in this Place of the Dead, have heartansoulanmind and I move within them to the point where the soul becomes the transparent skin that holds the heartanmind. The soul, the skin, takes a reasoned shape formed by memories in heartanmind as when one is transfixed with wonder or terror when alive, and it runs a parallel race with a heart encompassed with mind’s memory and experience. And, like a blind soothsayer on Earth, mindanheart need not see with eyes to know its compass and direction to move not unlike that arrow seed of yours through the darkened path to furrow deep to grow new life that with necessity carries the destiny of soul to nurture its own self too within the spiritual body politic that breathes and lives from and on the soil of Mother Earth.”
Arthur had listened with twenty ears as his mind grew to thoughts once unknown and unthought. He discovered, ‘I am more mind than heart.’ But his heart, by necessity, began its own slower and steady maturation, his heart expanded as a soil for which Arthur unknowingly could implant his sprouting mind.
***
Again, this scene is not as I expected. To be honest here, I don’t much consider the expectation as it does me little good and wastes imagination, mostly imagination gone wild. Presently the scene makes sense to me though it is a bit over the top. I do not see Merlyn as that different than Arthur both have heartansoulanmind, but Merlyn has had more experience. I wonder at what pace the real heartansoulanmind grow (that is, without the body’s distraction)? Is it really reasonable to think the mind grows first and the heart much catch up? I would think it would be the other way around, the heart grows unconsciously and it is the mind that then must unconsciously grew to meet it. And, what of the soul? How is its placement of the heartanmind or mindanheart? Merlyn considers the soul a verb, one that can move from point A to point B and back again. Yet, he spoke of the soul as a dry body that can soberly engage in walking or running with heartanmind when necessity calls. I, for one, enjoy considering such matters though they appear little worth the imaginary work in this earthly realm.
Look out the window to your lower western horizon, boy, and see Jupiter close by and a little below its brighter cousin, Venus. They look close to the eye and the heart also, but both are wrong in so many dimensional ways as far as the heartanmind and mindanheart are concerned. The seemingly indifferent soul appears untouched by myth or physics, ancient or modern minded. However, here think not of a soul’s indifference but instead by its size in the shadow of earthly enlightenment. – Amorella
Do I have this right? It seems to me the soul’s size would not be dependent on earthly enlightenment, in fact, there would be no connection whatsoever. Besides, how can a shadow effect a change in what is causing the shade? What an effect the size of the soul in any case?
You appear to know the answers, orndorff, you tell me. – Amorella
What is size in a circumstance where time and space do not appear to exist?
What size would a soul be to slip through time and space? – Amorella
It would be one dimensional, it would have no size at all – it would not produce a shadow.
Yet the earth is shaded by souls, boy, at least in these books and blog it is so. – Amorella.
I will have to think on the elements that make up the soul, at least in these Merlyn’s Mind works.
Good, because it is a consideration in scene eight. Scene nine Merlyn finds himself in modern times before returning to witness the Greeks in Elysium. Post. - Amorella
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