Notes - Grandma 3 completed

        Mid-afternoon. You had a late lunch at Panera/Chipotle after watching the last BBC episode of “Broadchurch” and both were surprised at the conclusion of the wonderfully enacted production. Presently you are in the far north parking lot of Pine Hill Lakes Park looking west onto the bottom of the hill. Carol has opened a ‘new’ book (to her from Linda) by Brad Thor, Black List. Let’s go to Grandma three. – Amorella

         2137 hours. Grandma 3 is complete and is a strange tale if there ever was one to come out of me. I sense a reality in or between the words. I am not sure which. I am not sure either, that I am not mistaken.

***

Grandma’s Story 3 ©2013, rho (final) draft GMG

            “Sometimes children,” instructs Grandma, “The geology of the heart translates to where the heart is born. In this case a girl child’s heart is born from sheets of ice piled over solid stone depressed by the weight of white. Warmed, watery tears flow inward, creating a landlocked seacoast with green hills, a place subset between two deep faults of consciousness.”

“I am in view of a young woman consciousness,” continues Grandma, “Qwinta is her name, and she is standing, staring at a multi-shaded orange tinged maple leaf in her hand. Qwinta stands within sight of a body of lake water, some eight thousand years after her lifetime on Earth, is identified as Lake Champlain, which sets between the heart eastern Canadian provinces and two U.S. states. Today the world understands the orange shading in the maple leaf is caused by a complex of the photosynthesis of carbohydrates using the energy of sunlight not by the color of magic in a suggestive thought.

            Eight thousand years ago, Qwinta imagined the orange hue of the beautiful autumn maple leaf to be that of the ghostly kneeling Princess, a royal canoeist, in an artfully decorated sun regal dugout. Touching this enchanting and perhaps magical maple leaf Princess Qwinta creates the self-imprinting of an inner fantasy  . . .

            The maple wood paddle the Princess is using and I, the Quinta, become as one-in-mind . . . I am the paddle’s head, its grip. I am the head; the shaft-and-blade become two . . . The royal hand on the grip, my head, becomes one with the drop and swirl movement of the paddle through the water. When the paddle is lifted from the water, a ripple ensues. The ripple is a wave with a reflected orange in the Maple leaf . . . The very spirit of the one whose hand dips like a paddle into the River of the Dead also lifts up and leaves a ripple as it passes from one side of the profound and ethereal current to the other side. The swirling spirit, the sculling spirit also manifests itself into the maple tree reflected water is swirled into this lone maple leaf as the paddle rises . . . I, Qwinta, a Princess spirit and mind, am the causal connection between the Living and the Dead just as the once decorated tree, the wood paddle and canoe, are the causal connection between the sun, orange and this fallen maple leaf. To doubt this is sensation of being is a truth is to doubt my own existence because to do so I would have to deny that I hold a truth between finger and thumb. The sun touches the leaf to gold before it falls.

Grandma all wonderfully black, full bosomed, full hipped, and colorfully costumed in Caribbean Island attire sashays and ripples her own waters by suggesting, “There isn’t a reason on this Earth for people to be touched by Perfection. I dance the physical sciences – matter and spirit each has her own interests and this can be observed still, in Quinta’s ghost.”

Quinta, while once living, is abruptly interrupted by three squawks of a crow then silence like the black eyes of night. Doubt and perfection cannot coexist like the color of sun and leaf. My family has light skin and blue eyes. No one knows why. Some say we are the children of the blue sky and white clouds come to life, but why would that be? Family tears are not the rain and this is plain to see. The greater family rule is to avoid contact with outsiders. The sun and moon do not avoid us and they are the outsiders. We have a sun and moon inside as the Earth has a sun and moon outside. Body and spirit, spirit and body, who sets these rules?

Human species, be they marsupial or primate in these books, enjoy imagination and reason. I, Grandma, operate by Necessity and you have the necessity to operate.

 Muddy waters run full and fast

And show a future from this woman's past,

Thus from old Grandma’s waves of rain

A maple leaf and imagination sprang.

            Long ago, a memory stirs, at once, a ghostly thought re-occurs, ‘I, once a Quinta, become a leaf and princess both.’

715 words

***

         You wonder how this story play the way it is presented by the sewing of the material to the spiritual. This is so because in a shrinking reality the world is the other way ‘round; the spiritual is first and is threaded unevenly through a loose distribution of originally haunted and sometimes headless matter. – Amorella

         2228 hours.  Something here is being lost in translation. (I will re-read and perhaps re-construct in the morning.)

         The universe is not being lost, boy, you are. – Amorella

         The darkest of dark humor without the reek of madness.

         October is on the morning’s rise, my young man, and slipperiest of spirits rise with it. Post. – Amorella

         2234 hours. I find neither a Heaven nor a Hell on the earthly place where we were all born to exist, ever, as a light burning itself out. If this is a madness, it is an honest madness.