31 January 2013

Notes - cloud chambers &witnessing / the Shortening of the Way / an alien-like form


         Mid-afternoon. You are waiting on a phone call from Honda so that you may pick up the blue Accord. You and Carol had Alta's excellent Tucson chicken veggie soup for lunch. Yesterday you were surprised to have received an unannounced letter from Doug with an article Nancy found in a recent "The Ohio State Magazine" titled, "Hunting the Higgs". Here is what caught your imagination.

** **
". . . ATLAS, the largest detector, is bigger than a five-story building. Kass, Kagan and Gan built its 'camera,' capable of capturing subatomic particles created by the collisions.
Kass said, "The pixel detector measures the trajectory of charged particles, including the ones that come from the decay of the Higgs. It is like a digital camera on steroids. Imagine one with about 100 million pixels that can take about a million pictures a second."

From: The Ohio State Magazine
** **

         I know about the Higgs but I never knew that about the camera. I am immediately reminded of our high school days before the science fair and I was standing in the Goss family dining room while Doug showed me his operating cloud chamber, one he built himself by hand. It was awesome to observe the full experiment and the cloud trail results of subatomic particles. That was during our junior or senior year of high school. It is a memory burned in, at least the clouds are, I saw them with my own eyes. Very, very cool it was, and still is as far as I am concerned. How far science has come. What a time to be alive to witness such events. First hand witnessing is better but second hand witnessing will do.

         Suddenly your memory transports you to White Sands Testing Grounds and standing on the spot where the first atomic bomb was detonated in July 1945. You brought back small amounts of direct evidence of that blast which is second hand witnessing enough for a good example of what you are feeling.

         Now, how can we transfer that feeling into the character of Blake Williams who suddenly realizes he is standing on earth in an alien ship talking within an arm's distance with unlikely genetic cousins from the other side of the Milky Way Galaxy? - Amorella

         I cannot imagine how that experience would be first hand. (1529)

         Yes, you can. Post. Amorella


         1958 hours. We picked up the car, came home, then headed for Kroger's to fill up the car for tomorrow's trip to Columbus to have lunch with Mary Lou and Uncle John. After Kroger's we had supper at Cracker Barrel. We both again had fish. Home again. Carol is washing her hair. I looked at Discover (Magazine) online and found two blogs of interest. The first is on Neanderthals breeding, not the point of the article but two phrases I have not heard in a long time.

** **        

By Razib Khan | January 30, 2013 3:05 am

With all the crazy talk about George Church and an adventurous young woman conspiring to bring back Neanderthals, I do think it is important to keep in mind that we can bring back an individual with a predominantly Neanderthal genome in a very old fashioned manner: controlled breeding. The most humane and viable manner in which you might do this is simply start a religion in a Bene Gesserit fashion where the prophesied Kwisatz Haderach is a Neanderthal. Over the generations by selecting individuals within the population (which could draw in converts) enriched for Neanderthal ancestry to mate assortatively one could slowly increase the proportion of that ancestral component. The population would become more and more “Neanderthal,” probably to the point of being phenotypically distinctive in a dozen generations (even a minority of non-modern human ancestry is probably significant, just as many individuals who are 3/4 European and 1/4 African still exhibit features of their minority heritage). One could apply the same logic to the Denisovans. . . .

Selected and edited from Discover online
** **

         The Bene Gesserit and the Kwisatz Haderach are terms from Frank Herbert's Dune series. When I checked on Wikipedia I saw where the concepts came from (something I did not realize). Below is what I discovered at Wikipedia.

** **
Kefitzat Haderech is a Jewish Kabbalic term that literally means "contracting the path." It refers to miraculous travel between two distant places in a brief time. The Talmud lists three biblical stories in which this miracle occurs. In early stories of the Chasidic movement, wonder-working rabbis are ascribed the ability to reach destinations with unnatural speed.
The name Kwisatz Haderach from Frank Herbert's Dune series, translated as "the Shortening of the Way", is presumably derived from the term kefitzat haderech.
         In Agnon's work
Shmuel Yosef Agnon, an Israeli writer who won the 1966 Nobel Prize for literature, incorporates this phenomenon into some of his plots. In an Agnon story based on one of the above-mentioned Hasidic folktales, a righteous rabbi is given the gift of kfitzat haderech and uses it to "jump" into the treasuries of the Habsburg Empire, take sacks full of newly-minted gold coins, and jump back to his shtetl, unnoticed by anybody. He uses the money to help poor or persecuted Jews, and the story implies that the power would be taken away should he take any of the gold to himself.
Later, when the Emperor plans to make decrees harmful to the Jews, the Rabbi uses his power of kfitzat haderech in order to jump into the audience chamber and beat the Emperor with his stick--being visible (and tangible) to the Emperor himself, but invisible to his councilors and guards.

Edited from Wikipedia (underlining my own)
** **

         The above reminds me of Merlyn 'jumping' from one time (in the Place of the Dead) to another time. This would seem to be easier to do as a spirit than as a full-blooded person. It is interesting because I had not realized the similar connection. I did not teach Dune in my Futures Studies/Science Fiction classes but I certainly suggested it as a great read for those who love science fiction. This, of course, was before the two films on Dune were created.

         You might do more research on those 'biblical stories'. However, that has little to do with Pouch 11. 

         But it does have to do with 'thought and light physics' within the blog. I wonder if 'thought' itself is a spiritual value rather than one of physics, or could it be both at once? When we read an engrossing book we are 'transported' into the book's dimensions. We are here and there both at once. In some ways it is like Du Maurier’s The House on the Strand. No drug is needed though, just 'thought-like' transportation to the 14th century.

         Do you wish you had such power, boy? - Amorella

         No. However I would like to use such power (in imagination) to work into the Merlyn books.

         How would it be different than it is now, your imagination? - Amorella

         Good question, Amorella. A very good question. To better clarify and use Herbert's "Kefitzat Haderech"; how would I do this? How could I clarify this as a 'spiritual' jump from one Place and Cultural Time of the Dead to another Place and Cultural Time of the Dead (to make the story better, more presentable for the imagination of what it is to be human and to be dead).  (2043)

         Be thinking about Blake, and Pyl and Justin too. How is it to meet an alien being of intelligence and higher consciousness in person. Carol wants to watch a television show. Post. - Amorella


         2226 hours. We watched Tuesday night's "White Collar" and a selection of the news. How is it to meet an alien of the physical reality, Amorella?

         You do not remember meeting an alien? - Amorella

         No, not even in my imagination -- do you mean the 'aliens' I 'remembered' under an induced hypnotic trance at the University of Cincinnati under the watch of Dr. Payne back during the 1980's? That was supposedly (in context) before I was born. Checking on Wikipedia in reference to the film AI:

** **
. . . Screenwriter Ian Watson has speculated, "Worldwide, A.I. was very successful (and the 4th highest earner of the year) but it didn't do quite so well in America, because the film, so I'm told, was too poetical and intellectual in general for American tastes. Plus, quite a few critics in America misunderstood the film, thinking for instance that the Giacometti-style beings in the final 20 minutes were aliens (whereas they were robots of the future who had evolved themselves from the robots in the earlier part of the film) and also thinking that the final 20 minutes were a sentimental addition by Spielberg, whereas those scenes were exactly what I wrote for Stanley and exactly what he wanted, filmed faithfully by Spielberg."

Selected and edited from Wikipedia - AI Artificial Intelligence
** **

         So, it turns out that the aliens were really supposed to be robots, but I had my hypnotic trance in the 1980's well before AI, the film of 2001. Below is an example of Giacometti's work:



Giacometti's Walking Man

***

         I think I have my notes of that session somewhere in the basement. The problem is that I, the observer in the trance, was not born yet. The "self-created event" had happened between my sixth and seventh month as I was born more than a month early, a real preemie weighing just over two pounds. My mother could slide her wedding ring above my elbow, at least that is the family story I heard more than once. Are those the aliens? There were three in the scene; one wasn't more than three feet from me. I was on an operating table. I can almost remember the scene; it was in color and had depth, similar to a full-blown lucid dream. Dr. Payne just shook his head and said we make up things even in a trance. I agreed wholeheartedly then and still do today.

         We can work with this but there is another incident also. Post. - Amorella

30 January 2013

Notes - Grandma 11 completed


        Your Honda will not be ready until tomorrow. Alas, a new steering pump is needed. Supper at Smashburgers as the regional manager, Henry, gave you the three coupons that expire tomorrow from your last visit, so you had a good supper for two (two sandwiches, a side of sweet potato fries and a side of veggie frites and two drinks) for six dollars and thirty-six cents. You watched a couple of shows, Tuesday night's "Vegas" and "NCIS". Otherwise you spent time researching costs on the Camry XLE Hybrid and the Accord EX, Four Cylinder.

         2142 hours. I am ready to work on Grandma 11.

         2245 hours. I completed Grandma's 11, but I will have to change the quotation from the story in Brother's 11 because I changed the quotation in tonight's revision.

         Add and post. - Amorella

***
Grandma 11, ©2013, rho, nfd

We return to three thousand years or so before the present, to a King and Queen in his palace, and he noticed a woman with dark hair and dark features in a bath on a roof over what would be almost a city block away. Perhaps this perfection is a gift from G-d, he thought. I am king in his name. I have done good works. I am of the loins of Abraham and Sarah. Perhaps she is a gift.
            He quickly found who the woman was. Bathsheba, wife of his good and loyal general, Uriah the Hittite, who loved soldiering and war more than anything else in the world. David reflected, she is heaven sent for a king.
            When she arrived as ordered. Once the two were alone in a private chamber David touched and surprisingly, Bathsheba returned touch. He was king and she was not perfect. He began debating his original intuition.
            Being alone and being king lust trickled then rushed and it speared in his mind. David became instantly terror struck thinking, lust is not a present from G-d. He sat with Bathsheba and confessed his desire and his faulty reasoning.
Bathsheba sat surprised at his unpretentious manner and understood. She held him in her arms as he cried for G-d's mercy like a child. Then he stood army-like and dismissed her so they both might have some privacy.
When they met again, this time is secret, they made love in a passion that neither expected. They bathed in a mist of passion so fine that both believed they saw the same rainbow in their heart of hearts.

Weeks later, Bathsheba called on King David privately. “I am pregnant with your child, David,” she said. “I will be stoned to death for adultery.”
“Have you not slept with your husband?” he questioned.
“No. He is busy soldiering and will not be bothered.”
King David replied confidently, “I will not have you stoned."
Without thinking Bathsheba whispered, “I love you."
He also responded without thinking. “I love you, too." The soldier king then considered the immediate situation. How can this be? She is my general’s wife. I have many wives, but he has only one. I cannot take her from him, and I will not. It was then that he thought on how Bathsheba might still be God’s gift to him. He concluded, only if the general dies a good death in battle will I wed her.

Very soon, almost too soon, there was a battle afoot and brave Uriah, the general was up front with his men as always. Uriah was a good and loyal general through his last battle.

Thus, it came to be that Bathsheba married King David. Their son died young. Nathan the Prophet, always knowing, told the king his son’s death was partial payment for the king’s adultery.
David asked, “if this is so, why did G-d take my son and not myself?”
“For further punishment,” hailed Nathan the righteous and the wise.
“How do you know this?” commanded King David, “That G-d should speak to you before he would speak in private to me.”
Nathan quickly reassessed the situation and somberly replied, “I do not know, my king."
“We shall have another child,” snapped David the King.
David dismissed Nathan after a verbal bruising. Once alone the king realized that G-d may have been talking to Nathan because he was a powerful prophet. David came to feel that G-d may also have been talking to him.

Years later, Bathsheba asked a much older David, “Will our son be king?”
“Yes,” without hesitation the king rejoined, “Solomon will become king while I am still alive to see it.”
Bathsheba smiled while musing I am content, and David is content that I am content.
Solomon came to realize this joint contentment in his parents and to silently rejoice to the wisdom within it.
"This is the David and Bathsheba story the way some of the Dead have heard it," noted Grandma with a knowing wink.

In a great bend in the river between the slave and the free,
There is a marked separation where you may want to be.

Being born human can be a chain of much strife,
A free human may unshackle this slave in life
Accepting what one is, a piece of humankind --
Are common and humble roots to grow in the mind.

Be forewarned and yet mellowed by Grandma's earlier wink,
These letters make a fiction to swim or to sink

These words flow free by Merlyn’s own hand

A flowing full fiction between the Shoreline and Strand.

785 words
***

29 January 2013

Notes - Solid Ground / a very, very good day


         0917 hours. As I got up this morning to prepare for our trip to Westerville to see Patti Pringle for the first time since Bob's memorial service, I was struck by the answer to my question yesterday about the Strand and the Shoreline. I was wondering that if we, material and spiritual beings, are in the flow then what is the Shoreline. I remembered. In the poem I wrote in tribute to my friend Robert, which he read before he died, I said, "solid ground". That's what's on the Shoreline in the story, solid ground. How wondrous, to me, to think such a thing on this morning. Robert is waving to me from Solid Ground, that's the way I see it.

         Ever the romantic, boy. Yet, such logic, in your particular circumstance, is reasonable to me. Have a good trip. Post. - Amorella


        After lunch. You and Carol had a wonderful time chatting with Patti about Bob, her family and grandchildren and your family and grandchildren and about Bob. You told her about the analogy and that it was as he waved from Solid Ground. You have shared memories. She gave you a bottle of ale that someone had recently bought, one that Bob loved, one pint of Moreland's [est. 1711] "Old Speckled Hen, English Fine Ale" [brewed and bottle in Edmunds Suffolk]. She also said that you could use any of Bob's poetry in your books, that Bob wanted that.

         After lunch we stopped by Mary Lou's to drop off some soup as she is unwell then dropped by Cathy and Tod's for a talk and family and each other. Good time, as always. Both are better from their bout with the flu.

         2211 hours. We took the 2003 Honda over for a diagnosis tomorrow; the problem may be a pump for the steering fluid. Home later, thus we had another Papa John's pizza and watched the news, "The Mentalist" and "Bones" from Sunday and Monday. Honda is also going to tell us how much our car is worth if we would trade it in. (There idea, not ours; but I took them up on it out of curiosity. Also, I am presently leaning against a hybrid and going for the Honda EX with the very economic four-cylinder engine. More new automobile studying to do. It was a very, very good day. 

         Post, orndorff. - Amorella


28 January 2013

Notes - surrounding River / The Brothers 11 completed


        You were up early cleaning Ellie's liquid-like hairball. Fortunately Carol did not step on it in the dark.

         I should have got up when I heard the 'cat cough'. Anyway, I cleaned it up before Carol saw it. We did our early morning chores but my lower spine is sensitive to pain this time of day so in the black bedroom chair I sit until the pain calms down. I discovered an error in yesterday's blog, a false childhood memory, one of many I am sure. I deleted it but first found the latter section of yesterday's blog was set on align center; that I also corrected.

         Old body age, boy. The body is not built so free as the mind; however heartansoul need something to exist four-dimensional environment, don't you think? Nature has its own practicality and rules; however, if one observes nature closely she or he finds not everything in nature is a law to be broken and then to be called a minor miracle. - Amorella

         The above was a completely unexpected comment. I am not sure what the last line means as far as these books are concerned.

         A connection between the Brothers 11 and Grandma's story 11. - Amorella

         I need to go get breakfast. (0834)

         No one is stopping you, boy. - Amorella

         1247 hours. We are going to Panera/Chipotle for lunch within an hour or so. Carol is working on the checkbooks and budget as usual. She is what one would call a real, in the world, home economist.

         At least you say that about Carol. You think she is 'real life' and you are 'mostly imagination of real life'. - Amorella

         That's a good way of putting it politely.

         You are wondering what cards are on the table for the rest of Brothers 11 and how it is going to connect to Grandma 11.

         I just skimmed it and was struck by this quick remake of the last two lines:

Words flow free on a mixed alphabet by Merlyn’s own hand


Into a full flowing fiction ever near the Shoreline and Strand.


         Change the 'a' to an italic 'the' before Shoreline. There is many a Strand breaching the surrounding River no matter what universe or dimension one finds her or himself in.

         In this comment you are as the Lady of the Lake.

         More so than you might think, boy. Post. - Amorella


         1527 hours. We had a good lunch and now are at Pine Hill Lakes looking west down into the forty-foot valley at the wooden foot-bridge crossing a branch of Muddy Creek. It is pretty even with the leaves unavailable. Carol is on page 246 of American Assassin. Leaving Panera we saw one of my form department chair people at Mason, Anne Helwig. A pleasant surprise since I haven't seen her for seven years or so. I told her we had two grandchildren (she had Kim for Honors American lit) and she has thirteen. She was super polite and told me who she was as she got out of the car. I knew the face immediately but names are slow to come by. It saved me the time I would have been spending in my head while chatting trying to think of what her name was. I always asked people to do that if they see me and save me the struggle and embarrassment. Okay, time to write.

         As usual you have no idea. - Amorella

         That's true. I suppose I was going to click on the Brothers 11 document and stare at the Moby Dick whale white on the page. I don't even remember what it was about. -- Turns out they were just talking on: worms, the antique table, the train set and the 1950's. That has nothing to do with shorelines and strands of even rivers. Are heartsansoulsanminds embedded in physical form strands?

         You thought that up all by yourself. Sometimes you surprise me, orndorff.

         If so that adds a whole new dimension to your words. The shoreline is coming out of the river not going into it. The usual thought on the River Jordon or Styx or whatever the name is that one crosses over, but the River in this case is the 'base' of the physical universe. If the base 'flows' erosion occurs and one (a strand) eventually dissolves back into the River. But what then are the Shorelines in such an analogy? (1558) Bring up The House on the Strand (1559).

         1632 hours. I am at 729 words where Robert's last words are, "I'm pretty sure Connie won't." Talk about a serendipitous dialogue. Carol's finish with a chapter. Time to go.

         You watched the news and Masterpiece Theatre. You wonder what the last words will be in The Brothers 11 just as you wonder how it was going to carry on earlier today.

         2126 hours. The Brothers 11 selection is completed in 797 words.

         Add and post. Tomorrow will be a busy day with traveling. Enjoy. - Amorella

***

The Brothers 11 ©2013, rho, nfd

Richard is driving north on State Street in his red 2005 Volkswagen GTI and sees Rob stopping on South Staten in front of the old stage coach line's Stoner Inn, a place rich in the history of the Underground Railroad. Richard pulls over and parks directly across the street in front of the Riverton Mason Temple whose membership began in Riverton in the second year of Lincoln's presidency, rolls the window down and shouts, “Hey!”

“Hey!” echoes Rob. Meet you at your house.” Rich nods and turns left at the next street. Within three minutes, they are parked in the driveway.

“You've got Connie's 1998 jag! Awesome. Surprised she lets you drive it."

“She and Cyndi like cruising. Figure they go out picking up the young men,” laughed Robert.

“We’re way too old,” gibed Richard.

“What’s up?”

“Want to go for a ride?”

“Why not. Where are you heading?”

“Hardware.”

“Speak for yourself, kid,” goaded Rob. “Get in."

“Awesome!” said Richard with a big grin. "You never get to drive this."

They stopped at the south end hardware store for a package of small screws. A block to McDonalds for drinks then down to Alum Park by the river.

“No one fishing today Richie,” said Robert.

“I never caught anything here at the park.”

“Neither did I,” grinned Robert. Both broke out laughing then sat in silence enjoying the immediate environment for half an hour or so.

“Nature’s a conspiracy,” said Richard.

“How’s that?”

“I think it’s a trick.”

“That's your definition of reality?”

“Yeah. Reality is not what it appears to be.”

“It sure is when you are performing surgery,” voiced Robert.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the problem with my theory. Reality is what you bleed in.”

“You mean what you imagine in, don’t you Richie?”

He put his head back and looked up into the late summer blue sky, “You're right.”

“You reason with the brain,” jabbed Robert, “imagination is in your mind, Richie.”

            Richard suddenly laughed and turned to face his brother. “You want reality? Remember the old lines, ‘The worms go in, the worms go out, the worms play pinochle in your snout?’” Both grinned while breaking into old boyish humor. Tears laughed right down their eyes as they sang, "The worms go in, the worm go out, the worms play pinochle in your snout."

** 

            "Where have you boys been?" asked Cyndi.

            Robert replied, "We went to the hardware store. I had to get some screws for Grandpa Bleacher's the old train set."
           
            "Is it still on that antique table?"

            "Yep."

            "I love that old table."

            "You don't have room for it."

            "I know."

            "I like the train set. I'm reworking the scenery for Uptown Riverton in the late fifties when we were in high school."
           
            "That's a good idea," agreed Richard. How things were in old Riverton rushed through his mind. "The peace and calm of the fifties."
           
            "Hardly. The Korean War, the hydrogen bomb, the Cold War, color prejudice."
           
            "The Beats," injected Richard, "and cheap gas. I remember buying it once for 19 cents a gallon." 

            "I think that is as cheap as we ever saw it."
           
            "I see your paperback on the table, what are you reading?"
           
            Cyndi responded in a deliciously warm and spontaneous smile, "The House on the Strand."

            "I loved that book."
           
            Richard added, "By Du Maurier. She was Lady Browning; Daphne du Maurier, probably best known for Rebecca."

            "It was very cool, a Twilight Zone type of story about a man who was in love with two women, one in the fourteenth century and one in the twentieth."

            Richard added, "Rebecca was better. It begins with: 'Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.' Hitchcock made it into a movie. The first line is an iambic hexameter. The last line is almost an anapestic tetrameter: 'And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.'"
           
            "House on the Strand was better because . . .."
           
            "Don't tell me Robbie. I haven't finished it yet." Her smile lingered. "You boys want some crackers and cheese?"

            "Good with me," said Robert and he automatically sat down at the head of the dining room table.

            "I usually sit there," commented Richard dryly.

            "You always sit here. You can sit at the head of the table at our house if you want. I don't care, and I'm pretty sure Connie won't."

            Richard mused it doesn't make much difference to Cyndi either. I remember how reality is depicted in The House on the Strand. The house, where a drug was used to induce the main character into choosing between two realities, one in the fourteenth century and one in the twentieth. He, like the Merlyn in my books, would rather return to his seventh century dead than stay in my present living.

799 words
***

27 January 2013

Notes - old dude / The Dead 11 / wrk on Brothers 11


         You had your usual breakfast of crunchy peanut butter, honey and raisins on a single multigrain piece of bread, skim milk, and a banana while reading the Sunday paper, almost always beginning with the Comic section. A relaxing bath will follow and then your exercises. Carol is still reading the paper and doing the Sunday sudoku at her leisure. Such is a typical morning for two retired Ohio public school teachers.

         I am a bit jolted by your style this morning, Amorella.

         Jolted is not the word you want here, boy. - Amorella

         Surprised, is the word. You are right - 'surprised by your style' even sounds better. I like the alliteration. I don't know why I wrote 'jolted'.

         I wrote with a detached objectivity, as if the wall had eyes. Amorella

         And this is a prelude to what?

         To what's being worked into Dead 11. - Amorella

         I like Merlyn as 'Stage Manager'. I like it very much.

         We will use that from time to time. He was a Bard, let him talk to the reader. I don't think Wilder would mind, do you? - Amorella

         I have no idea, Amorella. When I taught I talked as if those writers in the textbooks were my friends. I thought of them as friends because I enjoyed (and still do) the pleasures of their writings.

         Post, dear boy. Amorella

         This was rather awkward to write.

         You hesitated, but finally succumbed because those are my words not yours. - Amorella

         They are embarrassing to me. It makes it seem like some sort of self-praise. I would never say 'dear boy' in reference to most anyone but my grandchildren, let alone myself.

         That is precisely the point of this little lesson. I would and did, and you allowed it anyway. You are 'free-minded' as I need you to be. Go take your bath. Post this, old dude.- Amorella


         1112 hours. Feeling better.

         But you have not done your exercises. - Amorella

         1203 hours. I have completed my exercises and read some emails. I think we are going to Outback for lunch but one never knows these things that are in the mind of life partner Carol.

         You were writing in Dead 11 and Merlyn mentions individual shelters such Thoreau's cabin at Walden. You checked online and found a photo to drop in here as a reminder of how it was in those days.

** **

Interior of Thoreau's Cabin
Image from talkingtree.com
** **

         We have visited this replicated cabin at Walden's Pond at least twice, once just a couple of years ago with our friends Craig and Alta. I can easily see this converted into about any human culture past or present. I like it as it reminds me of my bedroom while we lived in Minerva Park. My sisters shared the larger room. I liked my own private space and made good use of it.

         1319 hours. Carol is getting ready for lunch at Outback. I just completed the draft of Dead 11 at 818 words. I am sure I can cut it down.

         Post what is here. We'll save the draft until it's ready. Enjoy Carol's birthday lunch. - Amorella


        1350 hours. I have it completed The Dead 11 to 795 words.

         Add and post. - Amorella



***
The Dead 11  ©2013, rho, nod

            Merlyn sat near the theatre ruins at his sanctuary, admiring the yellow sun that has only recently been a part of HeavenOrHellBothOrNeither. During my recent tenure on Earth, thought Merlyn, during the time of heartanmind sharing with the identical twins Richard and Robert though Robert didn't appear to know it at the time. He did buy his brother two books on Merlyn though. Surprised Richard, yes it did. We never had rain here either until after the Second Rebellion. It began, so it's said, the Earth night after President Eisenhower's Farewell Address, televised on 17 January 1961. Those who were watching or listening at the time mostly remember it for Eisenhower's warning on too much deficit spending and on the growing military-industrial complex. Those already dead did not hear of it at the time, but many of the recent Dead in those days knew about Eisenhower. It wasn't long before word began to get around. Wars and plagues had passed many people on in the first fifty years of the twentieth century. Now days there are plenty more living but they do not make up for the loss. All the new technology and weaponry, all kinds of weaponry never dreamed of before. The Dead of many cultures got together and said to the Supervisor; "Somebody's got to go back and say some things about how it is here in this Place of the Dead.           
            As I died in the latter seventh century I immediately slept and when I awoke I found myself in Avalon whose topography is similar to the Isles. The earlier Dead of Avalon have slightly different scenes than my own. People wake up where they will be most welcome. Most assume the Supervisor, as SheanHe is titled, understands how these things work. I haven't seen any errors but some say there have been and were correctable. Peoples' spirits need to feel comfortable so individuals choose their own level of personal ease with one's self. This is mostly completed before arrival.
            Communication among the Dead is not difficult as long as one is polite first and honest second. For some this is a difficult undertaking. You have no tongue to slip on. The individual spirit is a personality with selected memory and fully spirited. The words are driven from the heartanmind and in that order. If you do not connect to the singular humor of this you miss half the fun of being Dead. Those who discover problems with this arrangement feel more at home in their private sanctuary. The heartansoul is more of a social issue and home is a good place to resolve the mind on these internal conflicts as they arise.
            At the beginning of the Rebellion, sanctuaries were culturally oriented individual shelters about the size of Henry David Thoreau's cabin at Walden's Pond. The contents would be a bed and a chair for guests, perhaps two chairs as well as a cupboard or two for imaginary cultural essentials such as food and drink for one or two friendly occupants. The Dead don't need things. Memories shared and otherwise will do. Those who know American theatre might think on the minimalist set in Thorton Wilder's play, "Our Town". I'm sure there are examples online in this modern world you presently live in. No need for clutter scattered about when Dead, no matter in what culture and earthy stage you dropped yourself into.
            Let me tell you how it was when I discovered I could visit an earlier place and time to help me with storytelling in dreamtime. In Avalon I was crossing a castle moat and walking through a stone framed doorway to the surrounding gardens. I remember the dark blue sky and seeing those green leaf vines growing up the wall and the top of the yellowish brown stone castle within. Beyond the doorway were two large weeping willows and assorted well-trimmed bushes with the grass in its natural state. This was a very pleasant scene indeed. I walked the path down the hill toward the trees. Beyond and to the left were two gray shaded monoliths and being myself I had to walk between them for the satisfactory pleasure of doing so. One stone whispered in my mother's voice, "Merlyn." The second stone whispered in my father's voice, "Time to visit the birth of the Rebellion." I became as a note of music between strings being plucked by the Supervisor, at least that is my supposition.
            Suddenly I found myself soaring eagle-like between hugely shaped clouds mostly of the high rising Cumulus and Cumulonimbus variety. I looked forward towards a moon-like light at the end of this domed cave filled with multitudes of clouds as I soared outward toward the cultural cloud of Ancient Greece. 

797 words
***


          Mid-afternoon. You had very good steak lunches at Outback, plus you split and piece of carrot cake for dessert. Presently you are near the center of Rose Hill Cemetery looking west to the large bare trees and tall evergreens within and the trees beyond that rise up from the small Muddy Creek valley, a few houses within your MI development can be seen to the southwest. A gray day of sky domes above. It is rather bleak among the winter dusting of white partially covering browned dormant grasses plagued with orderly sculpted rectangled granite pieces of various colors and heights.

         1542 hours. I am ready to work on Brothers 11 but I will have to scan Brothers 10 to remind myself where we are: Taco Bell and a poetry reading. -- The original Brothers 11 is only 544 words.

         We'll have to add some but I don't want sawdust as stuffing. - Amorella

         Can we somehow relate it to Grandma's next story? Or to the Dead in the previous story?

         Let's go with Grandma's. - Amorella

         I will have to check and see what it is about. -- Grandma's Story is a fictional story about David and Bathsheba with 1118 words, so it will have to be cut down. I forget what happens.

         That's the reason it is written. - Amorella

         You and Carol, who was also washing a couple loads of clothes, have spent time watching a couple more DVRed shows plus the national news and the first segment of Sixty Minutes.

         2045 hours. Brothers 11 is going to take a major revision.

         Take a break. You'll get it cleaned up.

         I am using a copied draft of book one. If the published Braided Dreams version is like this it is a sad day. There are too many insignificant details.

         So, you have published drafts of what you are presently revising, things could be worse. Besides, you said in book two that when they were completed you were going to spend time cleaning them up. Water over the dam, boy. - Amorella

         Okay, I'm not even going to check. I don't want to know. Time to move on upstairs and sit in the more comfortable black bedroom lounger.

         You have five hundred and some words. Enough for tonight. Drop what you have of Brothers 11 in and post. - Amorella

***

The Brothers 11 (first re-drafting)

Richard is driving north on State Street in his red 2005 Volkswagen GTI and sees Rob stopping on South Staten in front of the old stage coach line's Stoner Inn, a place rich in the history of the Underground Railroad. Richard pulls over and parks directly across the street in front of the Riverton Mason Temple whose membership began in Riverton in the second year of Lincoln's presidency, rolls the window down and shouts, “Hey!”

“Hey!” echoes Rob. Meet you at your house.” Rich nods and turns left at the next street. Within three minutes, they are parked in the driveway.

“You've got Connie's old jag! Awesome. Surprised she lets you drive it."

“She and Cyndi like cruising. Figure they go out picking up the young men,” laughed Robert.

“We’re way too old,” gibed Richard.

“What’s up?”

“Want to go for a ride?”

“Why not. Where are you heading?”

“Hardware.”

“Speak for yourself, kid,” goaded Rob. “Get in."

“Awesome!” said Richard with a big grin. "You never get to drive this."

They stopped at the south end hardware store for a package of small screws. A block to McDonalds for drinks then down to Alum Park by the river.

“No one fishing today Richie,” said Robert.

“I never caught anything here at the park.”

“Neither did I,” grinned Robert. Both broke out laughing then sat in silence enjoying the immediate environment for half an hour or so.

“Nature’s a conspiracy,” said Richard.

“How’s that?”

“I think it’s a trick.”

“That's your definition of reality?”

“Yeah. Reality is not what it appears to be.”

“It sure is when you are performing surgery,” voiced Robert.

“Yeah, I know. That’s the problem with my theory. Reality is what you bleed in.”

“You mean what you imagine in, don’t you Richie?”

He put his head back and looked up into the late summer blue sky, “You're right.”

“You reason with the brain,” jabbed Robert, “imagination is in your mind, Richie.”

            Richard suddenly laughed and turned to face his brother. “You want reality? Remember the old lines, ‘The worms go in, the worms go out, the worms play pinochle in your snout?’” Both grinned while breaking into old boyish humor. Tears laughed right down their eyes as they sang, "The worms go in, the worm go out, the worms play pinochle in your snout."

**

            "Where have you boys been with Connie's car?" asked Cyndi.

            Robert replied, "We went to the hardware store. I had to get some screws for Grandpa Bleacher's the old train set."
           
            "Is it still on that antique table?"

            "Yep."

            "I love that old table."

            "You don't have room for it."

            "I know."

            "I like the train set. I'm reworking the scenery for Uptown Riverton in the late fifties when we were in high school."
           
            "That's a good idea," agreed Richard. How things were in old Riverton rushed through his mind. "The peace and calm of the fifties."
           
            "Hardly. The Korean War, the hydrogen bomb, the Cold War, color prejudice."
           
            "The Beats," injected Richard, "and cheap gas. I remember as a junior buying it once for 19 cents a gallon."  515 words

***

         I want to keep the underground railway theme on track. Here is an online photo of the Stoner House.


Stoner Inn

It started as a natural spring, bubbling up just outside town near the dusty old post road. Travelers came for its water as it was thought to have medicinal properties. George Stoner was born in Maryland in 1798 he moved to Finley Ohio in 1820 and then made Westerville his home.
The Stoner House was built in 1852. George Stoner was an enterprising man who used this building as a tavern, an inn and a spa. To insure business Mr. Stoner created a stagecoach line connecting Columbus and Westerville insuring he had plenty of customers for his business with the delivery of passengers, patrons and goods.
George Stoner also carried runaway slaves from Columbus to Westerville on their flight to freedom on the Underground Railroad. Sometimes Stoner hid the runaways in his coach’s luggage compartment. Other times, he disguised them as regular passengers. Mr. Stoner would bring the fleeing slaves to his Inn where he fed them and kept them safe in the basement. When they were ready, they would set off for the next leg of their journey, on the Underground Railroad.

From: http://www.touring-ohio.com/central/westerville/stoner-house.html
** **

         I wanted to make a point with the Mason Temple too, as the Masons came to Westerville during the Lincoln administration. Here is a photo of the Temple built much later and as it is today when the two see each other on State Street. The two building are directly across from each other. I like to thing there may be 'spirit lines' between the two buildings. Connections we may not see, but might be there anyway. I like to think there are such markings in the world from time to time, a kind of sacred space unknown to the living, like in the cemeteries. Same sort of thing.


Westerville Mason Temple

         Orndorff, no one will see these connections. This is too much irrelevant detail. - Amorella

         No, it isn't. Slavery is a major theme in the Merlyn books. A free mind is easily enslaved. Look at my own. These books are about freeing my own slavery, freeing my own mind. Our humanity should not be so easily tied down to who and where we are now. Humanity should focus on where the world's grandchildren and their grandchildren will be. Well, my humanity does. It is not so easy thinking different. What do you think my marsupial humanoids are for?

         Leave them in, orndorff. Relax. You get too high on your horse sometimes. I consider that the world may become enslaved to the point the humanity is drained out of it, and the same for ThreePlanets too, not yourself, not your own humanity. The books may be by you but they are not about you, boy. - Amorella

         I'm preaching, aren't I?

         No preaching, boy. Enough of that already. We are keeping this to storytelling. If you think the Stoner House and the Masonic Temple add to the story we'll leave it in, at least for now. But when it comes to the final draft some things are going to have to go. - Amorella

         I understand, and agree. Too much attachment. Too much me.

         Post. Time for bed. Carol's already turned out the light. - Amorella