Yesterday Doug sent you two quotes that you
find more than amusing and I think they are a good way for you to begin your
day. - Amorella
** **
Oscar Wilde:
I am so clever that sometimes I don't understand a single word of what I
am saying.
W. C. Fields:
I once spent a year in
Philadelphia; I think it was on a Sunday.
** **
0900
hours. They do brighten my perspective and I definitively am in touch with the
humor. I can't help but think of the books I've read by Oliver Sacks: The Man who Mistook his Wife for A Hat and Awakenings. I need to read The
Mind's Eye and Hallucinations. (My sister,
Cathy, has Hallucinations and I'm calling dibs
on it when she's done).
Readers
may download and read for free for now, but once the books are published this
will be illegal. - Amorella
Note: Some discrepancies below I cannot seem to correct on the posting itself. Sorry. - rho
***
Great Merlyn's Ghost, Vol. I
© 2001-2013 Richard H. Orndorff
Chapter 13
The Supervisor has a
little saying:
Ring-a-ring
o'rosies
A
pocket full of posies
"A-tishoo!
A-tishoo!"
We
all fall down!
We
rise from clay
On
Judgment Day
Be
we dead or still alive.
Merlyn
has this little ditty memorized to the point it sits in stemmed reverence from
which the chapter dream grows. Merlyn kneads his dreams for those with an
imagination that casts no shadow.
The Dead 13
It
is a pleasure to awaken in this bed that is very much a memory of my adolescent
days in life. A few blankets across a few wooden planks attached to four legs
created from tree trunks. My pillow is a forearm in width and two hands high.
Those of you who know of Thoreau and his cabin at Walden's Pond that's about
the size. The exterior dimensions of Thoreau's cabin were ten by fifteen feet.
Mine is about the same but without the physical reality. Before we go any
further the Living need to know a few of the rules we Dead have; particularly
if my memory serves me well enough to return to Avalon or Elysium.
We
Dead have particular rules we attempt to follow for a general social order to
occur. For instance if one is walking it is helpful to walk on a path that
delivers you from point A to point B. We are more ridged than you the Living
might think. We must conform to the way things are. First, we have to realize
who we are, who we really are. These are self-evident truths the Living may
deny for a lifetime. Like Alice, you have to pass through the Looking Glass to
enter our domain.
We
Dead survive for what Ends? We like the Living do not know. We attempt to be
social while we wait though we have choice. We have the right to mature while
we wait.
We
Dead have a set of ethics focusing basically on the four cardinal virtues:
temperance, courage, justice and prudence. These four are woven within the
circulation of heartansoulanmind as blood was circulated throughout the body in
life. The more giving the spirit is in these four virtues the freer one is,
that is, the more transparent the spirit is, the more the spirit is as the soul
from which it came, unseen but known and understood within one's humanity.
We
Dead, wait, enjoying the learning, enjoying the company of others who always
remind us of who we are as we grow or do not grow. To live, as it were,
trafficking The Golden Rule within our own stuffing.
We
Dead who rose from clay; we are Dead and still Alive and our Judgments stay our
own.
"Says you," interrupted Vivian.
Merlyn
smiled as if he were let in on a joke, "How long have you been here, my
love?"
"As
long as necessary. Where were you going with your monologue?"
"I
forget. I lost my train of thought."
"You
were thinking on how much energy it took to move from Avalon to Elysium. It
nearly wore you out."
"It
wore me down to nothing and that was before I left Avalon."
"I
watched you leave."
"I
did not know that."
"Your
soul took you."
"How
do you know it was not my heart?"
"Only
your soul could move like that."
"What
did you see? A soul is what it is, a shroud, a covering protecting
heartanmind."
"That
is what we are told but I saw something different. You were evaporating quickly
and took the form a gray pinecone and then shrank to a brown walnut floating at
navel height. I reached out and touched the walnut, which was becoming gray
again; it was leathery like touching the back of an African elephant. I knew
then that it was your soul because that is how I imagine your soul to be."
Merlyn
laughed aloud, "Leathery."
"Do
you remember me touching you?"
"You
are within me already. Touching would assume you were not within," replied
Merlyn earnestly.
"I
felt your leathery passion, Merlyn. I felt your soul's fuel if not your soul
itself."
"What
a strange thing to say, Vivian, that my passion is leathery."
"Like
an elephant's, thick, like the skin on an elephant's back," reiterated
Vivian. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Bye, Merlyn."
Merlyn
chuckled. "Things are like this here among the Dead. Heartsansoulsanminds
come and go like thoughts of friends among the Living. Here thoughts come
across more real and are acted out between two or among three or more; up to a
group of a dozen or so friends. You Living know how that is, people show up in
a flash, you have a good time, and then they say their good-byes and are gone.
Not much different here, except I heard Vivian's voice as if she were standing
right here. And, I felt her arm on my back and she gave me a kiss on the cheek.
I felt those lips. I will never forget Vivian's lips and her passion. Never. No
leather in her passion, I'll tell you.
***
The Brothers 13
Robert
sat on the couch staring at his brother’s bare feet. “You need to trim those
nails,” he said.
Richard
glanced down, “They look fine to me. Give them another couple of weeks. Why do
you wear socks all the time?”
“I
feel better in socks.”
“What
have you found in your genealogy files different than what I have?”
Robert
picked up the paper. “This old letter from Oxford Ancestors, it says, ‘ . . .we
cannot identify your Y-chromosome as being of Norse Viking by the criteria
outlined above. It is much more likely that your Y-chromosome has been
inherited from a paternal ancestor who belonged to one of the ancient Celtic
tribes that lived in Britain and Ireland before the Vikings arrived at the end
of the eighth century AD.’”
“Grandpa
was sure we had Viking blood in us. He always said we were related to Ragnar
the Dane.”
Robert
snickered, “He told me we were related to Abu Hubba, the Viking. And that there
were records of Abu traveling as far away as the Tigris and Euphrates.”
Richard
pulled another file. “Well, then there is this old family name Balduh on Grandpa’s great grandmother’s
side. It sure looks Scandinavian to me. The h
was probably a hard c or a k. Balduk
sure looks Germanic. Something right out of the ancient Norse sagas or Beowulf.”
“Balduk could have been Baldacci then it
would appear Italian,” noted Robert whose interest was quickly waning. I would
rather dissect a corpse than a language, thought Robert. He continued, “Well,
it was the great grandmother’s side not the great grandfather’s. The male line
has always been the only one legitimate on the Isles, right?”
“Of course,” cracked Richard.
Both laughed sardonically. “I'm hungry. Do you want some ice cream?”
“What do you have, Robbie?”
“Not here. Let’s go Uptown to
the DQ or Graeter’s.”
“How about stopping at the
college bookstore first?”
“That’s fine,” said Richard.
“What are you looking for?”
My poem,” replied Robert in
his typical deadpan manner.
“I need to get this Merlyn
series done,” said Richard in an irritated tone.
“Three books. It’ll be years
until you redo that trilogy.”
Richard
scratched his nose and looked for his shoes. “You work a long time, then you
retire. I like having a project or two. That is what is good about genealogy. I
can dabble in Grandpa’s notes one day then work on my book the next.”
“You
just like writing about our hometown,” said Robert.
“It
is just like everyone else’s hometown. Familiar landmarks, different street and
place names. People have their uptown or downtown businesses that last a long
time, doctors, dentists and the like. Groceries or food markets that people are
familiar special areas occupying peoples’ lives. One town is as good as any
another for a setting.” Richard paused, “Where are we going again?”
“Bookstore,
then the DQ I guess, if you still want to go.”
Richard
replied quickly, “I’ll drive.”
“In
high school we used to borrow Grandpa’s VW a lot.” Robert laughed, “it had
those pop open back windows and a nearly non-existent heater.”
Later
the two sat, one with a small chocolate cone and the other with small chocolate
malt. Both faced north looking at the old Riverton High School they attended in
the late nineteen fifties. “There’s our sophomore homeroom,” pointed Richard.
“Yeah,
I never got in trouble in that room, but you did,” commented Robert.
“True.
I got three whacks in the principal’s office for talking. That wouldn’t happen
today.”
“We
thought we were going to be nuked by the Russians. It hasn’t come to it, but
eventually we will be nuked by one set of terrorists or another.”
“Nuked
or plagued,” added Richard.
“Yep.
Nuked or plagued. That’s the way it will be.”
Richard
smiled, “Not many places to hide either.”
“New
Zealand would be a good spot.”
"Yeah,"
said Richard without much enthusiasm as his mind had begun running over the
characters and plot of Nevil Shute's On the Beach. Shute created a novel out of
Eliot's words in "The Hollow Men"
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
It
was a dark, dark novel, reflected Richard matter-of-factly, still surprised
that the world survived those Cold War times; and the 1959 film was just as
dark. It had Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner, Fred Astaire and Anthony Perkins in the
leads; directed by Stanley Kramer. The setting was 1964 and in the black and
white film no one was going to survive the radiation, not in Australia, New
Zealand, Argentina or South Africa. Not one human being survives. How did we
ever make it this long without a nuclear war? I have no idea.
***
Grandma's Story 13
I
have a little story for you, noted Grandma. This narrative takes place in a
narrow area of India in the sixth century. Thar stands tall along the upper
Krishna River in the Maharashtra state in the Western Ghats mountain range. The
eight hundred mile river flows east to west across India to the Bay of Bengal.
To the far north is the Indian desert of Sahara-like sand dunes. To the Krishna
River’s far southwest coast of India in the present day Kerala state are
coastal semi-evergreen forests. This limited area of the subcontinent has the
Indian Ocean to its west and the high Western Ghats Mountain to its east.
Thin
Thar and his still beautiful full-bodied, long black haired partner, Malabar
sit eating some fruit on a large ash gray boulder on the south shoreline of the
Krishna. Behind them about three hundred feet is an ancient temple dedicated to
Lord Shiva. The temple has long been destroyed but it has a near twin still
standing and in use in the state of Bihar, the Mundeshwari Devi Temple. Both
towered temples were built for the worship of Lord Shiva in the early first
century. A younger couple, Goa and Comorin, come out of the entrance to the
small temple and see the backs of the older couple lounging on the rock.
An
ever so slight wind, a seeming inconsequential breeze with a flit of bliss,
accompanies Goa and Comorin on their now judicious walk to see their friends
and to innocently ask how it is that Thar and Malabar long ago had come to be
married and to live in such peace with one another.
Thar
rose and stood loincloth naked while Malabar sat. In solemn tone he declared as
he had many times in the years before, "There will be great floods from
these mountains to our north."
With
her feet dangling in the cool water and turning her head slightly to her left
and up to see her husband's eyes looking down, Malabar grumbled, “There are
always floods, Thar," then with a twinkle in her eye, added, "And
droughts too; nevertheless, we cannot wade across the Krishna without getting
our feet wet."
Thar
turned his head having observed Goa and Comorin within a few feet of the rock.
"Hello,"
said Comorin energetically, "We thought we saw you from the Temple."
She paused as Malabar turned their way. "What's wrong," she blurted,
"Thar stands while you sit?"
Malabar
did not bother to stand. It was easier to look up at the three of them.
"Thar is the problem," she stated matter-of-factly, "He wants to
wade across the great Krishna without getting his feet wet."
"You
need a blessing from Lord Shiva," declared Goa earnestly, "to wade
the Krishna without getting wet feet."
Attaching
to the immediate humor of the moment, and to the quick twinkling exchange
between husband and wife, Thar replied, "What blessing would that be, my
young friend Goa, so that I may wade and not have to take a boat across to keep
dry?"
Perplexed
by the sudden question Goa ran his mind through the moments of meditation they
had just spent in the Temple. Goa lowered his eyes and confessing, "Only
as a soul can you be liberated from the physical, Thar; thus being alive you
will have to take a boat across the river."
Malabar
smiled warmly at her two young friends, "That is just what I told him,
Goa. Thank you for clarifying this for me." She touched her husband left
leg in friendly jest and continued, "See, Thar," she looked knowingly
as any woman in her position would, "What would I do if you waded across
and I was left here alone?"
Thar stood tall and scratched his head, he looked
seriously at their two young friends and then down at his wife, "Come,
Malabar" he said gently, "please stand so we four might stand
together as two couples." He paused as he helped her up. The four
witnessed a sudden and unannounced meeting of common human spirit.
Thar
immediately realized the four were standing together in the cardinal directions
unaware. "We will soon be the North and South winds and in time you two
will be the East and West. Lord Shiva speaks in such a heartfelt meeting as
ours and as such the four of us beyond ashes and smoke will dance over the
Earth and not a one of us will retire with either wet feet or dry soles."
Old
Grandma Earth smiled; nodded her head and quipped, "Not everything in the
world is as loose or as tight as it seems." She continued in a calm,
"Transcend,
transcend, a beginning, a middle and an
end
While talking to
a thousand, to a couple, or to a single friend."
***
Diplomatic Pouch 13
Ship
analyzed all personal and public information recently gathered on Pyl, Justin
and Blake as well as their fine lined DNA substructures and ongoing vital signs
many degrees beyond those presently possible or even known on Earth. With what
Ship has presently he can create a female and/or a male twin of each individual
earthling for non-rejecting fully mature and transplantable whole body or body
parts within twenty-four hours. Observations of living earthling vital stats while anywhere on Ship are
compartmentalized into Box-UsefulanMixeData.
After
explanations as to how the control room sorted data, and general safety procedures
on Ship and a comfortable sit down at an accompanying table and chairs in a
small pushanpull bump-out room for a short break with familiar drinks of choice
and a few assorted well known tidbits, Justin asked a question.
"I'm
sure Pyl and Blake are fascinated with the overall mechanics of operation as
what you say reminds me of a flight manual. I appreciate that this is a general
review as I am somewhat overwhelmed with the size and detail. This is almost
too much too soon for me. You mentioned that because you are an older species,
that you have about a twenty thousand year head start on science and
technology. To carry through with this what is the form of social control used
on your three-planet solar system, that is, how is society organized so that
you could build such a ship as this? "
Friendly
spoke, "First, the point is that we are not any more intelligent than you
are. Our species developed differently for a variety of reasons even though the
physics of our planets is quite similar to your own. We can breath your air,
drink your water and eat some of your food without momentary illness. We
evolved similarly because we are from similar habitats." She paused taking
a sip of water and relaxing at a slower pace of speech, "Think of your family
automobile and how it is built. First, it is a vehicle to take a person,
friends or family safely from point A to point B."
Blake
slightly raised his hand but interrupted, "But we have a choice as to what
vehicle we buy."
Yermey
raised his index finger and touched the slight smile forming but said nothing.
Friendly
continued, "We had choices too, over the millenniums, we tried many
choices but after about five thousand years of whittling down to the best
choice for us, we chose one that while not perfect, as nothing ever is, worked
better for us. We could and cannot predict social change but change happens,
just as your species has had to adapt, so do we. Our being here is an example
of this. We are here on our own because ThreePlanets is not ready for you, not
because of your lack of technology or been primates. ThreePlanets is not ready
for you because you think differently than we do."
Hartolite
smiled in agreement with her comrades. "We want to show you our humanity
because we feel our humanity is really no different than your own."
"Perhaps
we might begin with a what do you do?"
said Pyl. When we are at a mixer this is one of those questions people start
with." She paused awaiting Justin and Blake's fuller attention. For
instance, if asked I would say I am a career counselor at Cincinnati U. She
glanced at her husband, "Justin?"
He
smiled sheepishly, "I teach archeology at the University. I have spent
time in the field, the last time in Israel and Egypt.
Blake
quietly added, "I have a software company that specializes in small
electronics -- behind the scenes in communication devices. My father started
the company many years ago. Pyl, my sister, and I own it jointly. It is a
private company."
Yermey
interrupted the short silence with, "I am a problem solver."
Hartolite
followed, "I too am a problem solver."
"Me
too," responded Friendly. "The three of us solve problems. We are
employed by Family Services, what you might call State Services."
"You
mean you counsel the poor?" asked Pyl, "It looks like you are all
pilots. You flew a ship across the galaxy. The jobs seem so unrelated to one
another."
Blake
quipped, "Maybe we are the poor these people are counseling."
At
first Yermey sat delighted, he thought Blake's humor quick and excellent; yet
he found himself unsure that was the case.
Meanwhile
Ship understood humor might be the only path for connection. Everyone likes to
be entertained, thought Ship, even me.
***
Chapter 14
The Supervisor has a
little saying:
Ring-a-ring
o'rosies
A
pocket full of posies
"A-tishoo!
A-tishoo!"
We
all fall down!
We
rise from clay
On
Judgment Day
Be
we dead or still alive.
Merlyn
has this little ditty memorized to the point it sits in stemmed reverence from
which the chapter dream grows. Merlyn kneads his dreams for those with an
imagination that casts no shadow.
The Dead 14
Merlyn
lay in his bed, in his hut within his predominantly private spiritual environs.
He is unable to sleep, as many of the Dead, at peace. When a dignified
otherworldly ghostly composition rests as a slab of earthly granite sheorhe is
the best spiritual peace HeavenOrHellBothOrNeither have to offer. That's what
Merlyn's fellow Dead say. Merlyn grumbles, "I am no more a princely pebble
than the commonest of headstones this, my black night of our most natural
rest."
This
questioning place, seemingly in my head, is no place different than it was when
I was alive. In my mind one definition of character is defining one's most
troubling question and then focusing until a reasonable response is
forthcoming, a response one can live or be dead with. Once in life a young
druidess came to my lean-to shelter deep in the oak forest and said, "I am
searching for wisdom while attempting to define love. I was told to seek you
out, thus here I am."
I
remember smiling, mostly of surprise. I said, "What is your name child?"
I said it as if I were asking my own grandchild (of which I had none),
"What is your name child?"
She
quite clearly, as clear as a mountain stream, politely and melodiously replied,
"Vivian. My name is Vivian."
In
a forest of hard wooded honesty I said, "Why did you repeat your name just
now? Are you not sure who you are?" She was either underwhelmed or
overwhelmed, I could not be sure. I stated directly to her clearly green-rimmed
dark pupils enclosed in the fair blink of healthy white as Celtic lids and long
as the night dark lashes as her teacher not as a grandfather. "You have to
define yourself, Vivian, before you can define either wisdom or love."
That
was so long ago, thought Merlyn, but it is still fresh. Such a memory, and at
the time, seemingly less innocent than now; but even innocence is not as it
seems. What does that mean for a human being not to be innocent? Why was Mother
Nature innocent? Why are the lesser animals than human beings innocent and we
are considered not innocent? Planning. Attempting to maneuver the future for
our own betterment, is that innocence? That's what the second and even the
first Rebellion of the Dead was about. The Dead lost the first Rebellion and we
won the second. Manipulation and Innocence cannot co-exist. Survival in life is
not innocent; survival after life is. The Dead are always innocent. We continue
to exist whether we want to our not. We make do. Even when we sleep like stone
it is only a dream, a wishful thought of being solid like stone. What a strange
thing, the only thing stone has is continuity. We have continuity and
physically we are less than nothing.
476 words.
A
voice whispered from the corner of the roof down to the earth-like floor
beneath his bed. "Hello, Merlyn. I can't sleep either. Do you want some
company?"
"Is
this Brighid, daughter of The Dagda?" Once considered a Celtic goddess, he
thought.
"No,
this is Brigit, who was once your love, Merlyn."
"Before
Vivian."
"And
after, Merlyn."
Love
does not go away among the Dead, remember Merlyn. Love does not run nor does it
linger. Love is a moment never completely lost thus it has no right to
recovery. Love is always surrounded by innocence.
"I
read your thoughts, Merlyn," whispered Brigit. They are always lined in
kindness.
"You
could always read me. I think that is the reason we parted in life."
"Only
physically, Merlyn, and Here we are together."
"How
is this that we remain true to friends and lovers in this place?" He felt
her right arm touching his back as he lay on his right side.
"I
am forming as are you."
"Wishful
thinking," grumbled Merlyn as if he were half asleep.
"Just
as in life, my love. People are married to wishful thinking."
"In
life people are married too many a thought for life," responded Merlyn and
suddenly felt his patience growing and his back and her arm disappear into the
night.
He
turned over, opened his eyes and saw the empty wall with no roof above. He
blinked innocently to see the stars are out, and concluded, such is the lot of
we who are Dead. And, in a moment Merlyn lie still, a sarcophagus, a human
spirit entombed.
***
The
Brothers 14
Late
August, early morning and Orion is up in the southeast sky. By afternoon
football and band practices have begun in Riverton. While Richard thinks on why
the New Year doesn’t begin in September like it should Robert is sitting on the
deck beside him looking off into the clump of trees on the back of his corner
lot at Main and West Street.
“I
like the trees,” said Robert. “A couple in the middle are already turning.”
Richard
smiled contentedly, “Buckeyes, no doubt."
“I’ve
a poem.”
Ignoring
the statement Richard asked, “You started reading my book yet?"
"I
finished the first chapter.”
“What
do you think?” asked Richard enthusiastically.
“Who
is Grandma Earth exactly?”
“She
. . . I’m not sure exactly. She introduces the stories.”
“Is
she Mother Nature? That’s what I thought at first, but your side notes say she
is the black actress in Gone With The
Wind.”
“Hattie
McDaniel. That's right, I mentally modeled the character of Grandma after her.
I didn't know it was a margin note.”
“It
is a draft, Richie. Whatever happened to Hattie McDaniel?”
“I
don’t know. Her caring portrayal in the film is what I wanted to express.”
“Grandma
as Mother Nature doesn’t give a damn. Look at all the natural disasters.
Millions of people killed.”
“She’s
indifferent, just like we are.”
“Speak
for yourself, Richie.”
“She’s
indifferent just as I am. I made her up. What else would you expect her to be
besides myself?”
“You
once said Grandma was modeled on the commercial face of Aunt Jemima."
“People
know about Aunt Jemima. She is still on the box. Most readers wouldn’t know the
name Hattie McDaniel, and I didn’t know how to reference Gone With The Wind in context with Aunt Jemima.”
“Aunt
Jemima’s supposed to be a cook too isn’t she?”
“I
imagine so, Rob,” replied Richard in a ruffled tone.
Robert
spoke lazily, “The whole chapter is a bit unorthodox, but I realize you are
writing for a very limited audience.”
Richard suddenly asks, “Do you
want to fly out to Vegas again this fall or wait until spring?”
"The last time the four
of us went to Vegas you spent most of our last free day playing nickel slots
Richie.”
“That's because early on I
lost a hundred dollars playing quarter slots. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as
nickel slots." He paused, "where are Cyndi and Connie?"
“We’re coming!” shouted the
sisters. “We’ve whipped up a special treat,” added the younger. "What have
you two talking about?" asked the older as they came into the room.
"I hope it's double
chocolate and caramel brownies," replied Richard.
"We made a fruit
bowl," smiled Cyndi. "It's a lot healthier than brownies."
"But not nearly as
good," replied Robert. The brothers laughed.
The girls sat somber-like for
a moment, then Connie noted, "You two should be more health-minded."
Out of the blue Connie
commented, "I'm not going to Vegas again unless we rent a car and drive to
the Grand Canyon or one of the other national parks."
Cyndi added, "Richie lost
over two hundred dollars playing those dumb quarter slots."
"I thought you lost a
hundred," said Robert.
"Why did you tell him
that Richie?"
"I figured it out,"
said Cyndi happily, "when he started playing the nickel slots."
"Jeez, Richie, you should
be more honest," piped Robert in a poker face.
"Richie's better at fiction,"
snapped Cyndi. "Isn't that right, Connie."
"Not always. Why, again,
I did I marry you Rob, and not Richie? Seems to me you had a pretty good
line," giggled Connie.
"Better than my
brother's," intimated Robert coyly.
The four sat in a comfortable
silence, each with a small family smile relaxing on their faces. Finally,
Connie spoke just above a whisper, "We each know who we are and who the
other is not."
Uncharacteristically, Robert
broke out into a knowing laughter first. The rest followed suit. Richard turned
off the television and Robert got out the card table. Connie pulled the deck of
cards from the top right desk drawer. Cyndi put the fruit bowl away and picked
up some beer and chips from the kitchen. The rest of the afternoon at the corner
house was fun and games.
***
Grandma’s Story 14
I
am standing here posted on one of the stone walls of a small hut on a rounded,
but ridged mountain summit about a thousand feet high. This is an austere place
where three people are spending their summer.
Shushu
is a pleasant woman who has her own way or else. Her summer love is Ch’ang. Her
great aunt, Lili, shaman of both local tribes, is also on the summit. The stone
hut is Lili’s for the summer months, and she invited Shushu and Ch’ang. Neither
Shushu nor Ch’ang, are related except by love.
Lili
knew a story on a different level of love to which both were connected. Here is
Lili to tell it to you herself.
I
am Lili of the mountains. I dance the mountain air to walk cloud tops when I
dream of life now long ago to you, but not to me. It has been as twenty years
of life, these two thousand of yours, that is how I sense it.
The two I am telling a story about were dancers as I am. The
particular summer of your long ago, I had begun an embroidery project with an
emerald green backdrop. Something unpronounceable was in the air when I stared
into the green silk cloth. My left foot touched something unseen, a stone I
immediately dug up. The stone is unpronounceable in the summit air but it is
Plenty and Bountiful, at least on its sharp edge. Understanding is a sense,
like smell.
Shushu
loves Ch’ang, and she though can do something about it she chooses to do nothing.
Likewise, Ch’ang chooses to do nothing. Together the two become as a single
room, like this stone hut Grandma and I, Lili, presently stand on. To exert
their separate personalities Shushu becomes a doorframe in the west wall while
Ch’ang becomes a doorframe centered in the east wall. The river, a thousand
feet below, runs from west to east. A thousand feet above the river, love
attempts to construct a bridge between the two doorframes.
Love
is a condition and cannot build the bridge between the two friends. Hearts
build bridges. The stone walls, the west wall and the east wall of this hut,
are the rigidity of their hearts. The centered doorframes are the souls of
Shushu and Ch’ang.
Lili
took a moment to smile in the moment as she suddenly transported herself to the
center of the stone hut where in her line of sight she can see through the two
opposite doorframes at once. So centered in life one cannot see through both
doorframes at once due to the Nature of Things. In death one can see the soul line.
Each
doorway is a Dragon of Plenty and Bounty. Each soul-framed doorway is equal.
Each doorway is invisible in the Nature of Things. Each doorframe is invisible
in the Nature of Things. Each wall is invisible in the Nature of Things. I,
Lili am also invisible in the Nature of Things. Yet, as I am writing in Grandma
Earth she is visible in the Nature of Things.
This
is what I, Lili, thought those many years ago and this is what I think today. I
made my embroidery that summer. I am the
small centered red dot. Shushu is the west dragon. Ch’ang is the east
dragon. When a living human being stares at the red dot long enough sheorhe
sees not a red dot, but the tip of the tail of me, Lili, the Red Dragon.
It
is then that the mirror image dragons, Shushu and Ch’ang, immediately form into
one dragon. Shushu and Ch’ang become an illusion in one.
Grandma carefully steps down off
the stone walled hut of heartansoul and begins a little mountain jig. For a
time and not, those old black feet move like a river dance. Standing straight
and tall those feet dance. Grandma's hands ridged on her hips as Grandma sings,
“I move in human feet stomping. I dance in a Nature seen and unseen.” With
that, Grandma jumps to a cloud top and Lili re-appeared. Both dance side by side
until they are out of sight.
Cloud
dancing with Grandma in the sorcerer’s dreams
Have a
past and a future, without the difference.
Words
dancing in stories with schematics on themes
Of balance
and cadence and conscience and prudence
***
Diplomatic Pouch 14
"And,
this is my room, Pyl, looks pretty much like all the others."
Pyl
looked up at him as she was eye level just above his shoulders and asked,
"Why are the doors set like this? You have an entrance door and in my mind
it looks like it is going to be an apartment, like you would be walking into
the living room, but this looks like a den or office or even a storeroom."
Yermey
made a small sound like a 'humph' or more polite while at the same time his
right hand went up to his lips and his forefinger continued, brushing his right
nostril as if he were about to sneeze. "Like a mentioned in the other
living quarters, everything is built in either in floor, walls or ceiling.
There is no need for a chair if you are not sitting."
"Right,
you did mention that earlier, but then the other rooms had furniture on
display."
Maintaining
a poker face, Yermey added, "I did not realize I was going to be showing
you my apartment."
"The
other two apartments were for the women. I thought yours might be more unique,"
she teased.
Yermey
did a quick 'sort through' in his head, "You mean more like a den, as you
said -- more masculine."
"A
quick question. Are you all professional or are you also friends?"
"Pardon?"
"How
long did it take you to get here? Even with your faster than light generators
it would take years. What do you people do on route? Can you pull up a chair? I
would like to sit." The chair expanded from the wall next to her.
"That was fast, what did you do?" asked Pyl.
"You asked for the chair so here it is. Sit. Please."
"Ship
knows English?"
Another
chair, this time it silently rose from the floor. Yermey sat facing Pyl.
"Ship knows everything about you, Mrs. Burroughs."
"Oh."
Yermey
explained matter-of-factly, "Ship knows everything about each of us for
our own protection, that is, for our own safety. He is built to save our lives
under any circumstance."
"If
he could only save one of our lives, whose would he save?"
"You
ask a lot of questions." He paused, "Ship how would you handle this
hypothetical dilemma?"
"I
would save your life, Pyl Burroughs. It would only be polite as you are a guest
of ThreePlanets while you are on board."
Pyl
was immediately taken back. Ship said "guest" with a sincere
authenticity she would not have expected from a fellow human she had just met.
"Who are you people that would give so much authority and polite moral
fiber to a machine?" She paused and gathered herself, "The Ship
sounds so human like that it strikes a cord with my own humanity."
"Good.
I mean this is completely unexpected. We don't even know one another yet you
are connecting with Ship in a human-like way . . . You are bonding with Ship
first." Yermey smiled.
Pyl
caught the twinkle in his eyes, perhaps, she thought, blemish of modesty and
humility. She quickly grew uneasy and embarrassed for herself.
Ship
spoke up, "Yermey, give her a glass of water, and tell her about how your
species was not always so fortunate."
"Yes,
of course. I'll have water myself. Earth water, how's that Mrs. Burroughs, a
cool glass of Earth water." The glasses of cool water appeared from an
opening slot on the wall. Two small tables rose from the floor to set the
glasses on. The chairs, originally wood-like, fluffed with a thin comfortable
padding and modified into an awkward like lounge chairs, outdoor deck chairs
rather than more a more practical kitchen table sort of chair.
Pyl took a sip of water and watched
Yermey's eyes and body language as he began. His formality quickly faded to
emotionally driven facial and arm and hand movements emphasizing his every
speaking word.
"Twenty
one thousand years ago we were similar to Earthlings in the mid-twentieth
century. We lived on a singular planet in five mostly separate, climate driven
cultures. A great incurable plague arose and out of necessity ten ships were
built to take two hundred people to the two uninhabited but close by habitable
planets. This exercise was done in secret. Planet One was left to survive or
die from this incurable plague."
"Science
later determined that exactly one hundred people had survived the plague."
Yermey raised the forefinger on his right hand, "Exactly one
hundred."
"We
continued our science and technology but our economic focus became the survival
of our children. We reverse engineered our society to always enrich our
children first. We serve our children and in turn as we grow older, our
children serve us. We were and are one family on ThreePlanets."
***
Chapter 15
The Supervisor has a
little saying:
Ring-a-ring
o'rosies
A
pocket full of posies
"A-tishoo!
A-tishoo!"
We
all fall down!
We
rise from clay
On
Judgment Day
Be
we dead or still alive.
Merlyn has this little ditty memorized to the point it sits in stemmed reverence from which the chapter dream grows. Merlyn kneads his dreams for those with an imagination that casts no shadow.
The Dead 15
Merlyn
has the taste of honey and sunflower seeds on his tongue that isn’t; glancing
up he sees the sun is at mid-morning while a layer of fog sets about a foot off
the stream to his right. He turns right again for a good time walking away from
the water with the sun behind him, northwest from the hut out passed the Oak
and the ruins of an ancient theatre towards the great granite boulder, more
than half a grand Highland hill high by his estimation.
In
life I used to love walking the Scottish hills and woods enjoying the nature of
sounds along the path, thought Merlyn. The further from the stream he walked
the more a silence filled his mind of this morning's earlier fog which hugged
ever so close to the cool mountain running water rather than its soon
dissipation into the sunlight of his spirit, his heartansoulanmind.
A
lone billiard ball lay centered on the far cue point. The cue ball sat on the
nearer cue mark as Merlyn watched from the near end of the reduced green on
table due to the new acquiring dense fog. "What ball is this?"
mumbled Merlyn aloud. He comfortably sat down on a nearby stump, the closed to
his present location, about half way to the high granite hill. "Hill
between me and the Living," he grumbled, still talking between himself and
an important memory.
Merlyn
squinted his eyes, sifting through the now layering white mist in his mind and
the ball centered on the far side of the table. He whispered, like he was
hunting a "Solid red . . . 7 ball. Who might that be a-calling from my
heart?"
"It
is but a first memory, Merlyn, no one but you," said a woman's voice
though he fully understood it was his own. She continued quietly and assuredly,
"The fog tapped it forward."
Merlyn's
voice continued, "I see an almost perfectly round deep red, beautifully
polished granite ball with a circular ivory inlay and a glossy black onyx
number 7 centered and embedded within the ivory."
Memory
spoke automatically as if it knew the connection with the past sits in the
present and future at once. The soul coils the transmission, the heart
generates the energy and the mind is as nothing that nothing can be. Memory's
silent picture - sharp and detailed - viewed a full eclipse of the sun. "I
stand on solid ground and from between the boughs of an Oak and Birch my eyes
see the flame on the pond. No, the flame is from the water. Fire and water.
Slowly, so slowly my widened eyes and beating heart strain for the fire's
lengthening blade of silent flames to provide an upward thrust into the
invisible side of nature's air. The spritely mix of orange, yellow, and red
flame with a flash or two of white the surrounding air glowed an eerie green
when rose the handle as yellow as the sun. The hand showed its natural clasp on
the surreal object to make the think the white skin ice itself. Frozen it was
and clasped to the sun, without a hint of power. And quiet froze my soul on the
spot. It's eye accepting something akin to itself made visible only a short
distance away. And, as I drew closer the calm waters edge of surrounding trees
and foliage took on the imagery of dark gray lashes, such as I was seeing the
single eye of a most unnatural being as one of its lashes. It did not blink red
or any other color and neither did I. In all the things I did unnaturally
observe, in the minute and whole of the singular event my wonderfully fine eyes
focused on the most natural thing I had ever seen birth, the slim, white hand,
appearing as human and more delicately feminine than my own, I saw a once
powerless woman's hand rise as a goddesses hand holding sun, water, and a thin
fire pillar in multitudes of colors and imagination. Its owner is not a
goddess, in fact and description, but rather, a naked human soul existing
outright and in place with no need of anything but being flesh and blood. Such
was my heart and soul and mind so re-conditioned that day. The sword, the bone
of the soul, I never did see it as others. The mightiest of swords ever held by
human hands held no power whatsoever; yet Arthur and the populace thought that
it did. And, in the end, the king and his country tried to make the sword, like
love and the purest of gold, something it is not.
***
The Brothers 15
Robert and Richard walked out
of the hardware store at the south end of town and took a late morning drive
following road with lots of woods and farms interspersed with new crops of
housing divisions interspersed among old farms and cow pastures. Interrupting
the silence Robert asked, “What were we talking about yesterday?” asked Robert.
“I don’t know. You mean when
we were playing cards?”
“Yeah.”
“I have no idea.”
Robert continued, “I think it
was about the end of the world as we know it.”
“Maybe that was after dinner.”
“Could be.” Robert paused.
“What do you think? What about today? If it’s not a plague it is a nuclear
accident in my book.”
"I think we could stop a
plague and I can't imagine it would take more than fifty nuclear weapons to
wipe out almost eight billion people. It might even take fewer.”
"What about global
warming?" commented Robert. "You used to think that was the most
likely scenario to do us in."
“Or crazed aliens,” smirked
Richard.
"Well's War of the Worlds and Carson's Silent Spring; it's been said long ago,
Dickie. Let's pull in here at the reservoir and watch the water." In a
moment they had stopped the car and were observing the relatively quiet of
nearby natural world in the park.
"I don't like to think on
negative outcomes." He paused, "I mean it doesn't take much thought
to come up with a whole series of natural or alien disasters."
"So, our species will
continue as we have, muddling through the centuries and millenniums," snickered
Robert.
Richard shrugged his shoulders
while looking at the seagulls and deadpanned "most likely outcome; unless
of course we are struck by a meteorite or comet."
"Yeah, like the one in
Russia. I think they call them 'city killers'."
"The chances of one
hitting a city of any size is pretty slim."
Rob responded, "Somebody
is probably writing for money for a government project." Both sniggered so
sincerely depression hovered in and sat between them in the sports car.
After a few somber wordless minutes
Robert grumbled, "Time to head back." And in their quietest twin
natures they drove Connie's classic Jaguar home.
Once home Connie, Cyndi,
Robert and Richard were sitting at the kitchen table drinking bottled and
flavored diet ice tea and munching from a medium sized common stainless steel
mixing bowl more than half full of assorted finger sized carrot and celery
sticks with a few ice cubes thrown in for residual crispness.
Robert began, "Richie and
I were discussing how the world will better survive this next century and the
question came up, 'Are women naturally better leaders for these days and times
than men?'
Cyndi's eyes narrowed
slightly, "So, Richard, what did you say to Robbie's question?"
Richard shrugged his shoulders
half in resignation, "I said it would be better if we brought this up with
you two."
Connie quickly responded,
"First, we get along with each other better."
"You two maybe, but I've
seen a couple of down and out cat fights in my time," declared Richard.
"Leaders are strong
decisive individuals though, in the operating room . . ."
"We are talking about
political leaders, Rob, where people have to work together more socially."
"Like Congress and the
White House," added Connie. "You know, with the majorities of men in
both camps.
"Men run empires. Look at
history. Where are all the women emperors . . . ?"
"All this
bickering," declared Robert softly. "Of the four of us who are the
more reasonable day in and day out?"
Connie snapped her reply,
"Cyndi and I. What a stupid question, Robert. Who runs the houses, who
does the chores, which of us are more mature and responsible in our day to day
living?"
"Which two of us have
always been more responsible on the home front, day in and day out?"
Quiet reigned.
Robert was about to say,
"What are we having for lunch?" He didn't, but a sheepish smile
perked slightly in a larger thought on the argument.
"Why don't we go out to
lunch?" suggested Cyndi politely.
"Good idea. Where do you
want to go?"
"I don't know. Where do
you want to go?"
"Somehow this all sounds
very familiar," commented the other.
"Let's sit silently until
we can all come to an agreement."
And, so they did.
***
Grandma’s Story 15
Old Grandma has chosen to tell a Mayan love story. Time is one of
the major characters off stage, just like real life. Timing is everything.
Solstice was and is important in Maya observances of Earth because of Zenial
passage observations that are possible only in the tropical zones.
This story takes place approximately twenty one hundred years ago
when the dark rift in the Milky Way was some thirty degrees above the dawning
winter solstice sun.
'Twenty-one hundred years ago in Central America, I was disguised
as an old woman walking, I spied two people making love under the broad-leafed
bushes and a cacao tree near both their homes.'
Grandma shook her head thinking, 'the physical passion people put
up with. People don’t normally know Grandma takes a peek every now and then
when the intensity has built up like it has with these two. I am also in
humanity’s most naked nature. People like to imagine being alone or with an
intimate companion or two in private.'
Grandma looked to the reader, 'you can be private with your
nature, honey-child, but you is never alone with your body. Heartansoulanmind,
the invisible world of the human spirit, is always with you.
Grandma continued,
'Love puts the body to more work than it is sometimes used to. People get
exhausted being in love. Some would just rather die happy in bed I guess. That
is the way it is for Tapachula, who is hotter than a summer storm and Izapa who
is normally cold and pyramidal-like except when he is with his Tapachula. She
heats up and he cools down. He heats up and she cools down. These two were just
like the weather wildness. You just never can tell how it is going to be from
one minute to the next. A low pressure hits a high and something is going to
move. Since one is usually high when the other is low, someone is always
jiggling the other. One morning when they had already been at it several times,
trying to get the timing right, and something unforeseen took over, basic
competition. These human bodies had suddenly taken on
a life of their own and physical endurance became the goal.
What a
way to go. Who is going to die of exhaustion first? Tapachula’s brain is
reasoning, ‘Impending doom, a natural disaster is upon us I can just feel it. I
can outlast this man, and if I can’t I’ll have to hand it to him to find a way
to do me in first. I already have a plan if I outlive my Izapa. I will bed the
first one that comes down the road until one of us dies and will keep doing so
until I’m done in. What a way to go. What a way to go. What-a-way, what-a-way,
what-a-way to go.
Tapachula's logic is
not completely consistent, but logic is something you might bed on but not
sleep with. That is when I, Grandma, decided to step up from the body physics
to the mindanheart for a change of pace.
From deep within
Tapachula's mindanheart Grandma whispered as consciousness might alone, “No prophecy is really true, child. No matter what any one
or more human being utters it. Human beings can neither know their own nor
their world's future, but they can learn to understand the logic within it.”
As Tapachula and Izapa's bodies clasped tight in a holy-like
climax, Grandma heard them both think in unison: "This natural disaster is
built into me too, Grandma. What
should we do?"
“Remember what and who you really are so you can balance the
beam,” suggested Grandma.
What are the beam and the balance?" asked Izapa and
Tapachula.
“The beam is in your intelligence,” answered Grandma. “And the
balance is in your wisdom.” And with that, the once old woman with the walking
stick disappeared in the expended passions of the lovers' bodily perspiring
fervor.
Arms and legs in loosening entanglement, Tapachula and Izapa
blinked and together said aloud, “We were in an enchantment.”
The sweetness in
their minds leaves but a lingering thought,
Of what the
world may become and what’s been wrought.
***
Diplomatic Pouch 15
Meanwhile
in other private apartments aboard Ship the other four have divided into pairs
and are in their respective rooms. First, we listen in on Blake and Friendly's
conversation. Diplomatic Pouch 16 continues with Hartolite and Justin.
"What
are you rubbing in your hand, if I may ask?"
Caught
off guard Blake responded by opening his left hand, "Oh, this?" (He
stood slightly embarrassed.) "It was a gift from my father. He was a
hunter. It is supposed to go on a key chain but I keep it for good luck -- like
a rabbit's foot." (He showed it to her for the taking if she wished.)
Friendly
held it and felt the smoothness of the claw, thinking, this is like a
ThreePlanet primate's fingernail. "What animal is this from?"
"A
bear. Dad killed the bear in the Canadian Rockies about twenty years ago. He
had a silver clasp and hook made to hold the claw so it could be used as a key
chain." Blake continued, "It is not the kind of luck you use for
navigation on Ship, I am sure."
"Luck.
Mr. Blake, sometimes luck is all we have."
Blake
Williams was surprised by how much instant relief this comment brought. He
responded, "Luck is something I am glad we share."
Friendly
dryly responded, "Good luck is better."
Blake
laughed and shook his head then asked, "I am interested in where Ship's
electronic luck is located?"
"Here,
have a seat," said Friendly. "Like your chair the technology is in
the floor or wall like you use insulation, but Ship's navigationanpower is
built into the outer shell much like muscle and nerves. There are safety
redundancies of course."
Seated
and relaxed Blake asked, "How many redundancies?"
"Nine."
"Nine
safety redundancies for everything. Very impressive."
"All
are interconnected with lifesaving apparatus for every individual on
board." She paused, "with you three given the priority."
Blake
was silent for a moment as he wasn't sure what if any words should come up.
Finally he quietly said, "Thank you."
"Our
culture is built on being polite even when it is not necessarily
expedient." Looking poker-faced, Friendly added, "You may take this
as a weakness."
Blake
broke into laughter, "The thought had not yet come up." He then
solemnly continued, "You don't want to come here. This is a very dangerous
place. Very dangerous."
Friendly
replied, "We feel you three are not a threat."
Again,
relief hit Blake where it counts most in his spirit, his heartansoulanmind. He
immediately felt very fortunate to be alive and to be with two other fellow
human beings he loved very much. He unconsciously wiped away a single tear from
his right eye, and in his quietest polite manner said, "Thank you, most
kindly."
"You have more questions, Mr. Blake."
"Yes,
but first call me Blake, please. It is more informal. This is a more personal
question. My last name is Williams."
Friendly
smiled, "Yes, Dr. Williams. I was attempting to be more informal myself. I
have read that some doctors try to relax their patients by having them call
them Dr. and then their first name; but I thought Dr. Blake might still sound
to formal and thus, 'Mr. Blake' because 'Blake' alone would be impolite as we
have just met as we are."
"You
must have felt bad with your clever ruse of us early on."
"Yes.
We could not decide what to do. We came here to meet with Earthlings but who do
you meet with first?"
"With
all the great leaders in our world, leaders in all the nations; surely you
could have done better than us. We are not leaders."
"But
you are a family of adults."
Blake
smiled warmly, "We are not always adult-minded."
"Neither
are we. Both of our species are playful when we feel at ease."
Both
were quiet for a moment, a relaxed quiet. Friendly spoke, "Ship decided
you three were fine for the purposes of first meeting." She hesitated,
"Would you like to know my last name?"
"I
didn't know you had one. Yes, of course."
"Lakenladybytherightstreamanfork."
She
laughed, "That's a translation. Here it is in sound Marsupialese --
Quandomix."
"Friendly
Quandomix."
"Friendly
would be Ar."
"Ar
Quandomix."
She said, "Yes, it is
strange hearing you speak in a Marsupialese voice."
He
said, "I would like to know more about you and your friends?"
"What
about Ship?
"Ship
too, but people first."
***
Summaries of
Chapters 13, 14 and 15:
The Dead 13.14.15
Rules: temperance, courage, justice, prudence + Golden Rule.
Brigit&Vivian, love does not go away; living are married to wishful
thinking. Memory of Vivian/Lady of the Lake and fiery sword rising - misused
like love and purist gold
The Brothers 13.14.15
Oxford
Ancestors to Beowulf&bookstore to Riverton High to On the Beach & no
survivors. Grandma and Aunt Jemima/Hattie. Discussing Vegas then getting out the cards for a
foursome. R&R discussing War of Worlds & Silent Spring ' C&C+R&R
discussing better leaders for today: women or men.
Grandma's Stories
Story 13
Thar &
Malabar on the Krishna River in west India. 7th c. near temple dedicated to
Lord Shiva. Young friends Goa & Comorin come to river's edge. Blessing, the
four are NSEW are 2 couples unaware standing the cardinal directions N S E W.
Story 14
China.
Shushu is west dragon & Ch'ang is east dragon both are lovers and Lili of
mountains is Red Dragon. Hearts build bridges. Stone walls E and W doorways of
the souls. The dragon is formed and illusion of 'one'. Tip of tail is red dot of dragon who is
Lili. Grandma dances in a nature seen and unseen.
Story 15
Mayan love story with Izapa and Tapachula in their passionate physical
love. Impeding doom? Grandma says no prophecy is really true, child."
Tight, holy-like climax. The beam (intelligence) and balance (wisdom) - both
blink and together say, "We were in an enchantment.
***
Diplomatic Pouch 13.14.15
Ship knows DNA + view control room data and safety procedures. As the
Earthlings and Marsupials discuss general aspects of life and say who they are,
i.e. Yermey: I am a problem solver. Ship foresees relationships of two species
building and want to use humor as a bridge. Focus on Yermey and Pyl in
apartment. Cool glass of Earth water. Survived a plague - 100 exactly 100
survive and colonize the 3 Planets. We serve our children and our children in
turn serve us. Focus on Friendly and Blake. Reference to "luck" which
both understand. Blake hears of 9 redundancies built in for safety of
Earthlings first. Blake tells them Earth is too dangerous a place for them.
Friendly's name in marsupialese "Ar Quandomix" Her last name
translated 'Lakenladybytherightstreamanfork'. Blake ends with "Ship too,
but people first."
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