Coming on noon. You just finished your
exercises and you are thinking of a phrase you used the other day on Facebook:
"take politics and religion out of the equation" and wonder it that
is how to start anew in HeavenOrHellBothOrNeither? You want to erase humanity
and begin again? - Amorella
No. But in the books. No. Our humanity
appears tied to both politics and religion. Where would the arts be without
both? Such are our human passions for power and moral ethics -- a check and
balance, though hardly ever, if ever, balanced. It is more like chess, check
and check again until mate, until the king falls seduced by a greater power or strategy,
with usually the queen being involved (in the common game) from the other side
of the Board.
You have the game as a common one yet Board
is capitalized. - Amorella
The Board is the Greater Nature of our
environment, i.e. the universe and Beyond. Power and Ethics is the base though
on which we develop our philosophies of life and our rudiments of culture.
These are built by heartanmind though, it seems to me, and not soul so much,
while in life. In death, in the books, there is a greater, more equal balance
in soul. It comes into flowering upon physical death; at least it seems so in
my mind. As such, why the Rebellion at all? I think I have built a board
without much underlay in HeavenOrHellBothOrNeither.
Unless, in your present thinking, the soul
is responsible for the Rebellion. - Amorella
It seems we are back to "Genesis"
and a leap to Milton's Paradise Lost, not souls but Angels.
You enjoy kicking the stone along as you
walk the narrow path, boy. - Amorella
What a turn of phrase, Amorella. You
are a delight. (1210)
Never trust one's self. A thought is not a truth, many thoughts, few if any are truths, that appears human enough.
Indeed it does, old man. - Amorella
1333
hours. I have better completed Dead-9.
Add
here, post, and we will move on. - Amorella
***
The Dead - 9 © 2013, rho
Merlyn
stood surprised to see Mother Glevema, Panagiotakis and Sophia, who had stubbed
her toe at her entrance to his sanctuary, standing beside Mother.
"Greetings, Mother, Takis and
Sophia. The first time I have ever seen you two together, the resemblance and a
mother and daughter separated by a multitude of generations has never been more
remarkable. Appearing the same age in spirit you are as the identical twins in
other stories from this Realm." Merlyn added politely, "I thought
this was a private matter between Mother and me Takis, but I can see by your
sagacious presence it is of more overriding importance."
"Indeed,"
replied Panagiotakis speaking to Merlyn as if Mother and a daughter were not
present. "You must speak to the Living about the First Rebellion to add
order and authenticity to the books. You visited in those days when the First
Rebellion began and know something of those times because you were witness in
the second nature of your spirit."
"Indeed
I was. I was given that privilege, by you I imagine."
"It
was by the Supervisor, Merlyn,"
interrupted Mother.
"Oh."
With this news presented as a fact at hand, Merlyn realized he was not the
Dead's choice to lead the return of the Dead to the Living; it never was.
Merlyn's
mind moved into overdrive. How did the
Supervisor pull this off? That is my first question. Why does Mother tell me
not Takis? Why didn't Takis tell me? Surely he knew the truth? Mind quickly
moved to Heart's memory and a whispered circle of multiple ghosts in singly
themed thinking that have come to the attention of those ready to move on after
physical death.
Who
am I? Why am I here? What shall I do here? How much can I know and understand
of my role and responsibility in this Place of the Dead, Avalon.
In
general the Dead agreed on this substance: “We thought if we were not free in
life then we would be free in death but that is not the case in this Place. We
ruminate and find camaraderie through our personal identities, personalities
and interests. The human center is Our Mother, the first who was allowed in
this Place. She is our common point. We are equal citizens through our
ancestry. We have become a hive of sensibly silhouetted questions searching for
equally reasonable responses. What else can we do?”
Merlyn's
soul did not seek the answers to heartanmind questions. Only Sophia now stood
in Merlyn's sight. He asked, "How should I tell the story, Sophia? You witnessed
the First Rebellion. What is important for the Living to know of something so very
long ago?"
In
trance Sophia drifted, "It was less than three thousand earth years ago."
We five sat around the oak table:
Thales, Kassandra, Mario, Salamon and myself. Our Mother had put me in charge.
We were at our favorite local eatery, a bar and cafe at the northwest corner of
Lyceum and Eleusis Streets, the Mikroikia.
I
can remember my very words. "We shall have a peaceful protest. I have been
assured by Our Mother that this demonstration will have a full ten thousand
heartsansoulsanminds standing as one while I make our demand directly to the
Supervisor." I paused and added, "I have directed my currier to
contact the Supervisor who should then arrive shortly."
Someone
asked, "Who is the currier?" and I responded, "Aeneas, because
he is protected by his mother, Aphrodite."
Merlyn
smiled, "It is not so strange, the same story could be told by the Celts
in Avalon, different names that's all."
"True.
We see this today, but not in those times. Our culture was the center of our
Spirit World. Our culture was our womb where we were comfortable being with
others of our own thoughts and ways."
In
a deathly whisper she said, "I remember Thales and Salamon debating
shortly after."
“We
do not know the Supervisor is Hades, Thales,” asserted Salamon assuming the
Supervisor was most likely Zeus in disguise. Salamon mused, what difference
will it make? Zeus or Hera. Zeus will have his way, no matter. The Supervisor
is a decoy. Aeneas is the currier The Gods are taking sides in this already; we
have done nothing but consider. Salamon grumbled, “Olympus is aligning itself,
I can feel it in my soul.”
"What
ominous words while sitting at a shared breakfast, she said sadly. We did not
know what we were doing. Merlyn you need to let the Living know this," commented
Sophia sincerely. Merlyn and Sophia, quiet as death, faded to their own
personal sanctuaries, leaving Nothingness unturned.
772
words
***
1345 hours. I
like it. I have not seen so clearly through Sophia's eyes before. It is an
interesting perspective. I needed to begin at the beginning. A new doorway has
been opened for me to see the First Rebellion with not so much novel detail,
just essentials from the leader, Sophia, talking to Merlyn. One-on-one. This is
the way I liked to teach when I could. Just yesterday I believe, a former
student had put a joke cartoon on her Facepage and I replied with an addition
to the joke. She wrote back saying, 'Mr. Orndorff, after all these years, how
do you still know me so well?' I responded, 'we both have a dark humor that
gets us through the world, my favorite is "Cheer up, things are bound to
get worse.' And, when things don't. Wait. ;-)'". I learned a lot about human nature through my students.
What a wonderful laboratory the classroom was for me. I love the literature and
the grammar and I love my students still. And, I love Facebook for allowing me
to peek into there lives once and a while, always hoping the best for them
and their children and grandchildren. My former students, my friends and my
family keep me positive and give me hope in the future of our species.
Mid-afternoon.
You are at Pine Hill Lakes Park again, with the sun at your back looking
northeast at the grass, trees, water tower and Mason high school boys running
laps, this is their fifth or sixth lap around the area from the water tower
over to the earth dam and out on the other side of the kiddy park and back to
the water tower. When Carol returned from a yearly checkup you had a half a ham
and cheese along with a stop at McD's near King's Island; Carol got a decafe
coffee, her usual, with three creams and three Splenda. She presently is on
page 393 of Child's novel. You are
preparing the new document for Brothers-9. Check out the original chapter;
let's see where we are. - Amorella
Wow.
This story is short and fits just as is.
Check to clean it up where needed. Drop it
in then post when you return home. Easy enough, huh. - Amorella
***
The Brothers - 9 © 2013, rho
Richard sat in his favorite black
leather chair studying Robert’s pungently worded poem titled:
"Nature Junkie”
By
Robert
a
bumblebee --
the
big black one
with
yellow stripes
enters
the bright
white
flower
of
a hosta.
From
the front porch
my
chocolate Lab
mouths
a stinging memory.
I
see the bee
body
working inside.
I
suspect
other
creatures,
unseen,
see
a meal --
ants
waiting
its
fall to earth,
or
a lizard
immune
to venom.
if
it wanders to ground
in
the chicken yard,
the
hens will rush,
pop
the droning pill.
I
walk off the porch,
pinch
shut
the
flower petals
to
hear the panic of wings,
to
get the buzz
of
bee
up
the fingers,
hoping
it
will go to my head.
“Good
poem, Rob. Precise. I love the line, ‘to get the buzz of the bee up the fingers
hoping it will go to my head.’ Rob's poetry always has the feeling of a slight
twist of phrase. I wasn’t expecting ‘up the fingers,’ Who would have thought,
‘up the fingers’? I love it.
“Thank
you. When it comes to poetry we usually agree.”
“Coney Island of the Mind, ‘Number Five’.”
“Ferlinghetti. That
is was a great poem and still is as far as I am concerned,” stated Robert. “Real
poetry, no traa-lee-laa crap.”
“I’m still stuck
there,” said Richard. “You moved on with the poets to modern times, but my
heart is with the Beats.”
Robert added
abruptly, “That’s when you stopped your style. There are other ways to say
things.”
“I liked the Beats' bluntness.
With a sheepish grin
Robert asked, “Then you won’t mind me asking you about your automatic writing?”
“It’s not really
automatic, Rob. That is what some people call it. It is a part of some people’s
writing process. I have to be in the right frame of mind to write the Merlyn
stories.”
“Is that what you
are calling them now?”
“It’s a basic and natural
frame of mind,” said Richard, “like my word trancephysics. It is like writing
while in a light trance. In fact, there is a word for it that relates to autosuggestion.”
“Ideomotor action.
William James wrote about it,” grinned Robert.
Richard reflected
his brother’s grinned, “You saw my dowsing rods over in the corner didn’t you?”
“I saw them;
unscientific re-bent clothes hangers, but I knew what they were for. Were you
looking for water in the back yard?”
“I was looking for
unmarked graves in the cemetery. Dale gave them to me after talking about them
with a plumber who used them to find leaks in lines between the house and
street.”
“Dowsing has been
debunked, you know. Water witching and the like. Studies show that finding
water by dowsing is a fifty-fifty proposition.”
Richard responded, “The
rods do move though, I think it has to do with electro-magnetic energy."
“The Divining rods
work because of unconscious suggestion to small muscles in the fingers that work
through subconscious response,” noted Robert, ever the medical doctor.
“Well,” suggested
Richard, “then when I am in form and a semi-transcendental state while writing,
then I’m writing from my inner self. What’s wrong with that?”
Robert deadpanned
facially and verbally, “Nothing as long as you aren’t going off the deep end.”
Richard disputed,
“Anything that exists, whether we know and understand it or not, is natural. My
bet is that it is some sort of electro-magnetic force, and if it isn’t, if it
is solely from within, and it has to do with muscle response, it is still
biophysical-electrical.”
Robert re-focused,
“So why were you dowsing for unmarked graves?”
“It was fun. I think
it is interesting that the finer finger muscles can move by involuntary
suggestion alone. It makes you wonder on who pulls the trigger in some murders.
I think of Shakespeare’s character MacBeth and his killing of Duncan. Lady
MacBeth suggests it. His hands and fingers take up the action whether he wants
to do it or not.” Richard paused, “the rest of the story shows another side of
MacBeth. He did kill an innocent man, and his guest to boot.”
“It is just a play,
Richie,” countered Robert.
“I know, but still
it is interesting that a simple dowsing rod can show we are not fully
consciously responsible for some muscular action. It doesn’t take much
consciousness to pull a trigger.”
“I can tell you it
takes a lot of conscious action to move a sharp surgical blade into a living
human body,” said Robert emphatically.
“Point taking,” said
Richard. “I am sure that it did.” The emphasis drove home on "it
did." This was as a dark reminder that both were no longer employed in
their chosen professions.
785 words
***
I
feel better about it. Bob will like that his poem is still included here.
It will always be included, boy. Now you can
relax. - Amorella
I am into the words and notions and
memories, Amorella, the word processing, the keyboard and computer screen
provide this. I am relaxed. (1601)
Later, Amorella
You
are at Kroger's on King's Mill waiting for Carol to pick up ingredients for
either Alta's turkey soup or chili. You both noticed that the new pub, Old Bag
of Nails, might be open at the other end of the Kroger shopping building. It is
the same one that is also in Worthington and Westerville. You have enjoyed eating
at both; thus a new place to try for lunch or supper.
I have an empty bottle of Arrogant Bastard
Ale down on my basement desk. I bought this domestic and drank it at the
Worthington pub some years ago just so I could have the bottle. I usually get
fish and chips. I don't remember about Carol. The last time we were in the
Westerville pub was a year or so ago with Cathy and Tod. We walked to Uptown
from their place on West Park about three hundred yards from Otterbein's campus.
Talk about walks-with-memories. That was the way it was every time we took a
walk in old Westerville. I feel better most of the time than I did a couple of
years ago, but I don't walk so much. Nervous about falling I suppose. I've only
fallen once on ice this winter; that was in the driveway.
Mid-evening (an hour or so before
bed). Let's go over Grandma-9. I will help edit. Use a copy. - Amorella
With your help I think I have most of
Grandma-9 complete. I have 685 words.
You
are close to the amount needed but a near-final drafting can wait until tomorrow.
Post. - Amorella
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