Notes - Grandma-7 completed /

         Late morning. You are at St. John Pass sitting with a sleeping Brennan in the rented minivan, a new Chrysler with all the bells and whistles, even leather seats. You are in a handicap parking spot across from Cuban Paradise Cigar and Cafe. There are lots of shops for their walking into and out of. Are you going to make something of the ending preposition, boy? - Amorella

         No, but it did come to mind. Awkward is as awkward does, Amorella.

         You were going to mention how the kids were swimming this morning after a pancake breakfast, but thought it was hypocritical to do so. - Amorella

         Another thought, that's all. Reading one's thoughts is a constant daily exercise, but it is a part of my original experiment over these many years. I doubt it's worth anything even to me, but I always wanted to know what it would be like to read someone's spontaneous and uncluttered thoughts over a period of time. True, they are my own, but one can't have everything. I figure I am normal enough as far as human beings go. Anyway, what you see is what I see. This is what happens when I use my free will to think as I wish.

         You don't think as you wish, orndorff. - Amorella

         No. I am misspoken. I don't know how to express my thought here.

         How about following your own advice to students and say, "I use my free will in my thinking when I wish to." - Amorella

         I don't know when I use my free will, Amorella. I am mostly habitual. The only time free will is important is in a existential moment.

         When are the existential moments? - Amorella

         Few and far between. I think it is time to work on Grandma - 7. (1122)

         There you go. - Amorella

         You worked up 402 words; they returned from shopping, off to Dockside Dave's for a smorgasborg of lunch tidbits, a nap and Linda is here after school for a chat. Drop what you have in here and post. - Amorella

***

Grandma’s Story – 7 (working draft)

For those of you Living who have never witnessed a ghost firsthand I have one for you. The ghost’s size is that of a regular green pea in a lighter shade of green. For those of you who may not have seen a ghost similar to this, make that an electrified pale green baby pea color. Grandma reached into her pocket hand first and pulled out the small spirit-like orb, which immediately floats off, and up from Grandma’s black as night right palm. "Here," Grandma pronounced muffled and slightly far away thunder-like, "I’ll let the little apparition tell her story."

A Ghost’s Existence

I am the shadow of a shade of my former self. What is black to me is green to you. Grandma put me in her pocket because I was off over the Atlantic Ocean. I always wanted to see the Atlantic when I was alive but I never did. I lived on a beautiful island in the South Pacific my entire life. My sole contact with the outside world was the disease that killed me a few centuries ago. I appear as a small dot because the eye cannot see my flat self. I could slice into someone I suppose but I am comfortable as I am. I just like the Atlantic Ocean so I float above it in a dreamed trance.

I know I am not in what the Living call the real world, but I am close to the Living. I’m close enough that you can read of me. I think it is funny that I am a dot within a capital I. The human eye is not built to see me as I am so it won’t. Most real ghosts pass you by more often than you think. Some of us call it dead dreaming, a reverse out of body experience. It is an into-the-mind experience from my point of view. You are conscious of me as an odd green pea in a Grandma story. Dead, I am still comfortable in shadow of Grandma’s hands. That is the point. Grandma smiled and gently put the pea-sized object back into her pocket as if it was a baby gosling.

A wind in a spirit or a spirit in the wind,

Shimmering electric green, black or boney white,

The mind’s dark night stood alone and chagrinned

At the nature of trancephysics in a spiritual light.

***

         I don't know what to do to extend this to seven hundred and some words for consistency as well as to add to the development of the story.

         Go visit. We'll work on it. - Amorella

         2045 hours. While watching the nightly news I had a inkling that we are going to update this little peapod of a ghost from the Pacific Islands. The question I have though is how did she know about the Atlantic Ocean in the first place?

         I will fill you in, and an update is in the works. Let's go to it. - Amorella

         2147 hours. I have completed Grandma's 7 in 758 words.

         Drop in and post. - Amorella

***

Grandma’s Story – 7

For those of you Living who have never witnessed a ghost firsthand I have one for you. The ghost’s size is that of a regular green pea in a lighter shade of green. For those of you who may not have seen a ghost similar to this, make that an electrified pale green baby pea color. Grandma reached into her pocket hand first and pulled out the small spirit-like orb, which immediately floats off, and up from Grandma’s black as night right palm. "Here," Grandma pronounced muffled and slightly far away thunder-like, "I’ll let the little apparition tell her story."

A Ghost’s Existence

I am the shadow of a shade of my former self. What is black to me is green to you. Grandma put me in her pocket because I was off over the Atlantic Ocean. I always wanted to see the Atlantic when I was alive but I never did. I lived on a beautiful island in the South Pacific my entire life. My sole physical contact with the outside world was the disease that killed me a few centuries ago, but I had heard many stories in my lifetime. I appear as a small dot because the eye cannot see my flat self. I could slice into someone I suppose but I am comfortable as I am. I like the Atlantic Ocean so I float above it in a dreaming-like trance.

I know I am not in what the Living call the real world, but I am close to the Living. I’m close enough that you can read of me. I think it is funny that I am a dot within a capital I. The human eye is not built to see me as I am so it won’t. Most real ghosts pass you by more often than you think. Some of us call it dead dreaming, a reverse out-of-body experience. It is an into-the-mind experience from my point of view. You are conscious of me as an odd green pea in a Grandma story. Dead, the point is I am still comfortable in shadow of Grandma’s hands. Grandma smiled and gently returned the pea-sized spirit to her pocket as if it was a baby gosling.

*

I put that spunky little spirit in my pocket in your year 2006 and now it is soon to be 2013. Grandma again reached in and felt the little one nestled down into the far corner of her pocket. She gently pinched and pulled the small round object out of her pocket with her forefinger and thumb. Grandma then put her up to her metaphorical eye for an inspection. You are a little larger, in these last human measured earth year six years you have grown from the humble sized green pea to that of a bluish green toy marble. She asked, "Are you still flying over your favorite ocean, the Atlantic?"

The small round blue-green ghost smiled, "No, Grandma. You can see that even as a wandering spirit between the Dead and the Living I have grown. I am one with the salty water of Earth. The Pacific Ocean and the Atlantic Ocean were just names, stories we humans conjured because geography was how one moved from one part of the world to another. Spiritually the salty water is one, all sea creatures are aware of this from the beginning. I was born and died on an island as a small land creature and I stayed small because my body was my geography of reference. Not having a body relieves me of such an unneeded mental device. My heartansoulanmind are more in balance; perhaps when I am a little larger, the size of a Kong or a Biggie, I will have grown enough to be the size from myself to that of the whole universe. That is my hope before I pass over completely.

Grandma smiled generously and laughed with the little spirit of humanity. "Perhaps you will my modest sized ghost of a spirit, but hear this, you'll always fit snuggly in the corner of my pocket. She places the little round one into her pocket once again; looked to her reading audience and said, "This little ghost knows something many humans and marsupial humanoids, living and dead do not realize. I find a wonderfully illustrious and wispy humor in her plucky audacity.

A wind in a spirit or a spirit in the wind,

Shimmering electric green, black or boney white,

The mind’s dark night stood alone and chagrinned,

At the nature of trancephysics in a spiritual light.

759 words

***