You
had a banana with peanut butter for breakfast and a quick read of the paper
after the comic page. You both are heading to shopping at I-71, Exit 65 where
you are meeting Mary Lou. While they shop we can work wherever comfortable. A
few minutes ago you thought about a linear device of having subtitles within a
chapter following the concept you used on the first three books: Braided
Dreams, Running Through, Merlyn's Mind. Each chapter is a phrase and each
phrase is connected to the other in terms of making a loose kind of sense; like
a poem you and Bob would enjoy. - Amorella
0952
hours. It just popped in when I sat in the bedroom chair after shaving. I don't
know if it is possible for such a device to work but I'd like to give it a try;
not a poem exactly, but a loose smattering of thoughts, like dreams can be.
You will be leaving soon. Post. - Amorella
I
will be making some modifications in this chapter for a final draft. For
instance, in Pouch 21 the stair steps I was thinking on are the old
fashioned-like portable steps people used to climb aboard planes back in the
fifties and sixties. I am thinking of Pan Am and TWA. Yermey thought it would
be a good joke to set Ship at an angle, coat most of the steps with blackenot,
and have Pyl and company walk up like they were getting on an old Pan Am flight. As pilots
certainly Blake and Pyl would get a surprise kick out of it.
Humor is always good, boy. Post.
1101 hours. We arrived at the Tanger/Jeffersonville Outlet
to find Mary Lou waiting in front of Chico's.
You
have completed the basic Chapters Nineteen, Twenty and Twenty-one document for
GMG One. Now you have to work on the summaries. Go with fifty-five percent
automatic summary on each. - Amorella
1213 hours. I am going to take a break
now.
Fine with me, boy. I figured as much. -
Amorella
1214 hours. This takes a different
mindset. Actually, it is easier because it is more mechanical. No real thinking
about the words and how/why they go together or should go together.
Grammar is mechanical to you. One of the
reasons that in the school days you speed-read and judged a content grade a bit
faster than the grammar grade and quickly applied them to the final grade on
the paper/essay. You wonder what the real difference is between laziness and
efficiency. Look it up. - Amorella
** **
lazy -
adjective
the lazy volunteers were sent home:
idle, indolent,
slothful, work-shy, shiftless, inactive, sluggish, lethargic; remiss,
negligent, slack, lax, lackadaisical.
efficient - adjective
2 an
efficient secretary: competent,
capable, able, proficient, adept, skillful, skilled,
effective, productive, organized, businesslike.
From Oxford/American software
** **
The
differences are not surprising. If someone were to ask what my primary
motivation would be in this context though, I have no choice but to say pure
laziness. If something has to be done, do it the easiest way you can (for
yourself) while keeping your primary objective, i.e. use the same criteria to
grade each paper the best I know and intuitively feel is best just grade under
the circumstances (goals and objectives) of my class. I remember this became
much easier after having taught for three years. From then on my standards did
not change.
The statement above appears to be correct
from your present point of view, but in reality your standards did change as
you realized you could demand more from each student. Then the judgment was
based on your earlier statement plus what level of competency the student had,
not what sheorhe appeared to have. This continually changed as you gained more
experience with individuals in the classroom. This comes from personal insight
and from my perspective cannot be measured because ultimately this comes (at
least from you) through heartansoulanmind in combination. This is not some sort
of spiritual (sitting on the mountain top) apparatus; it is the humanity you
showed in the classroom and in here it is the criteria I continually judge you
by. This judgment cannot be generated unless you are the basic human being you
are. Do you understand this, boy? - Amorella
I guess so. I am only paying partial
attention. Sorry.
At least you wrote it down without a
thought. Break time, boy. Put the computer down. Better yet, turn it off. -
Amorella
Turning it off seems drastic. I still
have 70 percent battery power; however, I am beginning to get hungry and I find
myself waiting for a phone call saying we are going to meet at McDonalds or Bob
Evans for lunch. (1246)
You had a good lunch at Bob Evans. You came
home and cat napped with Jadah on your lap while Carol began reading the Sunday
paper. Mary Lou and Carol had a good time and were successful in their buying.
You are feeling less tired and are ready to continue the summary work. Later,
dude. Post. - Amorella
1756 hours. I
completed the task of summaries for the four segments at 55 percent of the
total words in each summary. Now I have the short summaries of each of the
three chapter segments and I have completed this aspect. Then it is on to
whatever Amorella suggests I do next. Surely I can finish this tonight. And, I
have doing this work listening to classical jazz via the living room speakers on
the Internet while Carol is napping upstairs. We have had a very good Sunday so
far. I think I'll watch the news for a change of pace.
You have completed your work. Add the
chapters and we'll call it a day. - Amorella
GMG.Ch.19,20,21.Summaries /G.Ch.19,20,21.Summaries
Readers may download and
read for free for now, but once the books are published this will be illegal. -
Amorella
Note: Some discrepancies below may not be presently
correctable on this posting. Sorry. - rho
Summaries
are at the conclusion of the final chapter.
Great Merlyn's Ghost, Volume One (19.20.21)
© 2001-2013 Richard H. Orndorff
Chapter Nineteen
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 19
Open
minded and ready, thinks Merlyn in present day. More than twelve hundred earth
years have passed since this endlessly unexpected union, this
event-of-a-lifetime, occurred.
Oily
muscular memories stay slipperier-and-faster-and-slippery still. A little wiser
smiled great Merlyn's ghost, whose hard-bodied memories -- hers-an-mine or
mine-an-hers? An unexpected union that was neither here nor there stays a
hurricane force in a funnel narrow; past, future and present tensed; a
wonderment bordering on all that is nature there and here -- a reality that has
birthed a multitude of universe both singular and plural. Muscle-like in
contraction and expansion -- slippery we all flow, greasing the wheels of
unseen cars and chariots of undetermined spirits, the forces of nature that
stir the universal cooking pots that grow a life unlike their own, a life that
gives birth and dies and rises again as the simplest of the four elements we glean
as water. Water that is seen simpler still, invisible to the periodic table of
even the elements. Such things the mind grasps from whirlwind of heartansoul to
soulanheart and back again.
I
am the grass, thinks Vivian, to be laid out upon and loved like Mother Earth
herself. A clover sprouts to wait upon the honeybee while I await the
anticipation of the flesh-driven plow. Why is this so in his eyes? I am fleshy, furrowed and ready. Old Merlyn drives me
down; through what magic is this that he is not made ready for young and hot
thoughts too many years undiscovered? For what is, that I am not earthy and
worthy enough?
Why
the excitement, thought Merlyn. She is focusing on my wants but I wonder on
this young druidess' needs. With a body full of hands she reaches for intimacy.
She'll not embrace to discover my physical self this way. I know the
sensitivity of these many small muscular controls manhood appears to thrive on.
To be stiff is not to be anointed and controlled. Only deep suggestive powers
can add to the subliminal artifacts within. She will not have me naked today
were she to run her wet lips over the bone of my contention. A contention
nuzzled between heart and soul rather than between a natural runner's two
thighs to heel and toe bones.
I
will not abandon my duty to self; to resist the natural powers beckoning when
it is I a small kernel of nature with will of my own to be a conduit not a
bridge to be walked upon and over by kings and queens. Jackals are as eager as
this young druidess is, to open and close the windows of my natural order --
she works on brain, bone; muscle and nerves; feeding flesh to flesh to heat the
mind which I have turned about -- I am soul first, then heart, then mind. I
cannot be penetrated any more than she will be. She stirs in the wrong
pot.
Strongly souled yet nakedly walled Merlyn challenged
his heart to bind and cement the wholeness of his inner nature of the
metaphysical frame. Merlyn lay intertwined with woman on the grass. Earth, Air,
fire and water is beyond the world of counting moments.
Vivian suddenly realized her hands were pinning
Merlyn's arms to the ground and while the muscles were tense a distraction
occurred and he appeared as stone, as if he were about to go to sleep with her
fixing herself atop him with both their robes clothing the next further
intimacy. She found herself smiling as if this calculated lovemaking was fun
and games; which she realized in the moment, that it wasn't. She released her hands' pressure, but
he lay as if he were the grass beneath him.
Merlyn's
soul grabbed from his heart's classical memory the following line, "I,
Anaximenes of Miletus, say, 'Just as our soul, being air, holds us together, so
do breath and air encompass the whole world.'"
Off
guard and quickly depressing, Vivian froze her eyes into his sight. Her mind
said, "There is no window to Merlyn's soul in either ball or pupil. This
great Druid has no soul. Thus, an added bolt from her heart, "If Merlyn
has no soul, he has no heart."
Awake
to her condition she rose from him saying, "You are a despicable old man,
a fart of air. I should never have adored you even once."
Merlyn
continued to lie relaxed as the green blades, "Be gone then, my beautiful
Druidess Vivian, and leave me hard to my rest."
***
The Brothers 19
Robert drove up West Main passed the Hanby House then
left on Grove passed John Knox College towards the north entrance of John Knox
Cemetery in the 350 Lexus sedan. He turned left on West Walnut and left into
his brother's driveway. Not much original going on in our town these days, he
thought, as we are practically surrounded by Columbus. Cincinnati touches the
Ohio and Cleveland beaches Erie, but nothing stops Columbus from gobbling the
rest of the state. Ordinary and Ohio go together. This is the way we are.
Robert
smiled upon seeing Lady’s long eyelashes dusting the diamond-shaped
windowpanes. I should have brought Jack with me; they would have enjoyed each
other’s company. He walked to the door, gave a quick knock and entered.
“I’m
upstairs,” shouted Richard.
“It’s
been a few days,” said Rob climbing the steps. “What have you been up to?”
“Not
much.
“Going
by the Hanby House I was thinking about the abolitionists. This was big in the
Underground Railway, several well known conductors lived here, but the town’s
pretty much lost its identity except uptown and the streets closest to the
college; the small town we grew up in.”
“Yeah.
That’s the way it is, Robert. Do you want a beer?”
“I’ll
take the beer.” He rubbed his chin, “What do you think if we had beards?”
Richard
chuckled, “Like the Smith Brothers?”
“Can
you still get their cough drops? I haven’t seen them in years.”
“I
don’t know.”
Robert
paused then asked, “What’s the matter with your set?”
“Nothing,”
replied Richard. “I was thinking about the on/off button and then about how the
real off button is a pulled plug.
Rob
smirked, "One is a button on the set the other dangles from the back like
a tail.”
“The
tail is the power supply,” said Richard, “but if you were a television set you
would think the power supply is always available.”
“The
heart’s our power supply, Richie. We've got nothing to plug in.” Both laughed.
Rob sat irritated by Richard rubbing at his forehead.
“Human
beings have passion, that's as important as the heart, don't you think?”
Robert
chuckled finding his own hand at his forehead for no particular reason. “We are
nothing but a self-reflective biochemical mass.”
“I
agree completely.”
“No
high tech machines are we. We are self-starters born in a puddle of biochemical
wattage.”
“Okay,”
said Richard. “Here’s the thing though, why do we feel connected to the
cosmos?”
“It
is the essence of what we are. It is built into psyches.”
“And
into our genes.”
“Our
genes are our psyches, Richie. It’s only bio-chemical makeup.”
“We
are genetically predisposed."
Without
the slightest hint of doubt, Robert responded, “We are pre-programmed to have
our doubts.”
“We
are our own genes, doubts and all.”
Rob
added, “As are our wives.”
Richard
paused then commented, “We mostly all duplicates of the species Homo sapiens.”
For a short moment he stared at the unplugged television, then he continued,
“We human beings are more analogous with the television than the computer. We
are social centers, or at least it used to be. Earth is our gathering place, as
the home's hearth, villages, towns and cities used to be.”
"We
are but weeds, Richie. Nothing more. Yesterday we were looking at the foliage
in the back yard and Connie said we ought to get rid of the honeysuckle because
it isn't a native. I replied, 'Neither are we.'"
"That
doesn't make us weeds though."
"I
think it does. We act like we are weeds. We take over what is really native in
the world and manipulate it to our own liking."
"We're
native too as far as the world is concerned."
"So
are weeds by any other name."
“I
do agree that people are more like televisions than computers. I would like to
think we are also computer-like in that we are creators and designers.”
Robert
spied the wireless router on the floor below the window. “Why do you have your
router on the floor?”
“So
people can’t pick up the signal so easily.”
“You
got it secured?”
“Of
course Rob,” sighed Richard.
“What
did we ever do without the Internet?”
“Or
our cell phones.”
“Long
ago, human beings only had their dreams,” added Robert.
"In
our youth we had our imagination and our games.”
"We
played cause and effect with observational errors."
"We
still do," responded Richard.
Robert's
natural smile with a hint of a smirk rose to the occasion, "So do our
'in-law' natural sisters."
A
statement from Richard slid in, "This is a good reason to go down and get
those beers." Both chuckled at the weedy darkness.
***
Grandma’s Story 19
“Greetings.
I mean you no harm. My name is Criterios. I am from Athens to attend the
festival at Santiago de Compostela. Are you of the Roman Church?"
Renaldo
opened his eyes from a night's rest in the woods. He stood and replied, “ I am
a monk also traveling to the Way of Saint James. The brother of our Christ has
his bones revered the site.”
Upon seeing his books on a nearby
stump Criterios politely asked, "What are your talents?"
“I have worked setting and leading
blue stained glass into several Church windows. I have also carved simple oak
crosses.”
Criterios responded in surprise,
“With your books I assumed you were a scholar?
Renaldo momentarily stared into
the glowing embers somberly and uttered, "People in this country hold
their philosophies private."
Criterios pointed to Renaldo's two
leather bound books, smiled broadly and stated, “You are a student of the world
like myself. I am learned also. I see you have Aristotle.”
Renaldo returned the smile, “I
always have my two friends Aristotle and Pythagoras with me.” He paused,
"But say, though your clothes define you otherwise, I see you have woman's
eyes and smile. You say you are Greek, how so are you here?"
“My honest name is Criteria. I am
disguised as a man for my own protection. In this clothing I appeared manly
enough. I was schooled in the philosophies in Athens."
Gleaning, he commented quietly,
"Clever enough," and continued his observation. She has brown eyebrows, a solid nose,
slender, distinct cheekbones, and a sharp angular chin. She could easily pass
for a Frank. Her body appears adolescent male and her cleverness shows her as
student of the world.
"Our
family is well known, thus I travel under the name Criterios.”
Renaldo’s
simple smile followed with a simple question, “Whose family are you?”
“I
am Ostrogoth and converted to Arian Christianity. On his mother's side father
is a cousin with Pepin and his son Charles. My great grandfather was a trader
with the Romans. My family is wealthy. Father wanted another son but got me
instead.”
“Ostrogoth,”
he said in surprise. “I am Visigoth. So many members of my family have died of
natural causes we thought it a curse for my father to have supported the
Aryanism among the Visigoths. I decided to become a priest in the Roman Church
to relieve the family of the curse.”
Criteria
stopped. “Here we are on the same path, heading to the bones of St. James the
Elder, the brother of Jesus.”
He
stood still in the moment. “You think like my grandfather and father. Since
Jesus had a brother, he must have been a man like any other. A great and good
man, but a man.”
"We need to get on our way to
the Way of St. James Festival in Santiago de Compostela."
The two quietly continued for two
miles on the open and nearly empty road towards the city that sits on the west
coast of northern Spain. She studied Renaldo along the way
The man has a Roman nose, thinks Criteria, and bushy thick black eyebrows to
counter the goatee on his chin. His head of brunet hair and high Frankish brow
fits with the eyes of artistic intelligence. I wonder on the difference between his heart and his reason.
The face is rounder than first appears, and that right eye squints thinner than
the left yet he has a warrior's face not that of an acetic.
For
the first time since he could remember, his books became secondary. This woman
is real and like myself, he thought and said, "How long will you be in
Santiago?”
"When
we arrive at Santiago de Compostela in Galicia where the Apostle, Saint James
the Greater is said to be buried my pilgrimage will be completed. From Santiago
I will travel east to the fishing village of Morus where I will be leaving by
boat for Rome. If we find we are compatible would you like to escort me to
Rome?
Grandma
formed a tidy little smirk on those precious lips of hers. Her eyes lit a flash
of love that quickly formed between Criteria and Renaldo. Grandma mused.
Together are
woven three divisions in one
Today, a Past,
and a Future is spun.
One by one
through Chapter Twenty-one to deliver
A slow march of
freed words from across the River.
Words delivered
by Ferryboat Captain, Leo Lamar
From the dead of
humanity tilting the Living ajar.
Filtering
through humankind like a somber dew
Through a body
of friendship, is Grandma to you.
From smiling
Grandma's white teeth and black gums
Merlyn's mind in
a Future this way comes.
***
Diplomatic Pouch 19
After
a leisurely return from the dark side of the Moon to Earth Ship planted itself
seventy thousand feet directly above the Rock and Roll Museum and Great Lakes Science
Center for the night.
Comfort
positioned each around the walnut table as before. Most noticeable to Blake
were finding Justin sitting next to Hartolite and Yermey sitting next to Pyl. I
find it odd, he thought, that Pyl and Justin chose not to sit next to one
another.
Yermey
smiled comfortably and said, "I am sure you have many questions. We can
take a few before bedtime."
Blake
began, "Earlier, Yermey, you said machinery allows us to see who we really
are. I think you were referring to Ship's abilities to keep each of us on board
equally comfortable and safe. As we are each sitting in the same chairs as
before, each of us is sitting next to an alien."
Friendly
interrupted, "That was my idea not Ship's -- I want us to become closer as
a group, not as two groups of aliens."
Pyl
countered, "We are all humanoids not aliens, Blake."
Yermey
added politely, "Go on, Blake, and let’s settle on your question."
"How
can machinery see us as we really are when we don't know who we are? At least
we humans don't. I don't think we have a clue as to who we are."
"I
don't think Yermey means that, Blake," countered Pyl once again." She
turned and looked directly at Yermey, Blake is talking about who we are in
terms of our hearts and souls and minds. We see ourselves as a mystery
sometimes. I'm sure you must feel the same."
Yermey
appeared momentarily puzzled while Friendly and Hartolite stared at him in
disbelief; waiting for the typical response they would have expected him to
give if Pyl was one of his own kind. But then no humanoid marsupial would have
ever thought to ask such a question so directly.
A
couple of seconds past before Yermey stumbled out with a, "Pardon?"
He adjusted a mischievous smile, "Or is it Please in your fair city of Cleveland?"
Pyl
was momentarily distracted by the twinkle in his eye than the smile. She
politely and quietly declared,
"Cincinnatians say please.
Some. It is due to the city's early German heritage."
Yermey
replied, "Bitte; as in a request
rather than as an annoyance or a question."
Friendly
noted that Blake and Justin glanced at one another in surprise. She quickly
added as matter of fact, "We know several languages and Ship has
translation/transcribers of all of them on your planet if we need. We prefer
English in this circumstance."
Pyl
gave a little nervous laugh (usually quite annoying to Blake) and commented,
"It is relaxing to me to see you are not perfect, Mr. Yermey." She
paused, "You mixed up the cities."
Yermey's
smile shifted slightly for relaxation. "I did not expect the conversation
to move to, as you say, 'hearts and souls and minds. But I, we can respond to
how our ThreePlanets culture views these terms."
Blake
interrupted, "Yermey, can your machinery detect a person's soul? If so,
how is this possible?"
"Define
soul first, Mr. Yermey if you would. We have few words for something that has
never been proven to exist."
"Like
God," added Justine. "These words are mostly indefinable by their
nature."
"What
is their nature? How do you see God and soul as alike? If they are, why do you
have two words when one will do?"
"If
I may," said Hartolite. "In our language your word, God is written as
it sounds, "Godofamily, CreatorofAllThingsanBeyond." It is one word,
but like your German sometimes the word and meaning are strung together whereas
in English you might hyphenate them."
"God
of Family," noted Pyl. "Does that mean you have a Family God?"
Yermey
unintentionally gave Pyl eye contact while thinking; this Earth-woman has a
pleasing voice. He said, "No, it means we think of God as a part of our
family in that She provided a pouch, the universe, as a place to live."
"That's
interesting," replied Pyl. "Most earthlings think of God as a
male."
Yermey
inadvertently became his usual self and rather haughtily commented, "The
male does not have a pouch you see."
Pyl
gave him an eye normally reserved for her brother and clipped, "I don't
see, Mr. Yermey. Would you like to show me you don't have a pouch?"
Awkwardness
descended so quickly that one might have thought sheorhe heard an embarrassed
Ship quietly shuffle out of the room.
Justin
came to Pyl's aid with, "Perhaps we should leave God and/or God of Family
out of the conversation for now."
"Time
for bed," proposed Blake, and the others quickly agreed.
***
Chapter Twenty
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 20
Merlyn awoke standing amongst the white foxglove and
red poppy just east of the stage ruins. His eyes focused first on his mind's
pillar, the giant Oak and on to the boulder and beyond to his hut. His eyes
slowly moved to beyond the hut, the heather, the narrow woods and they rested
on six tall blades of grass by the river. Six, he thought.
A
billiard table rose from a short muscled contraction in a long fingered
hypnotic oak root pointing his way. In a brief uncommon blink the oak tabletop
stood beside; felted green from side to side to side to side. Empty it is,
concluded Merlyn, but for a solid green ball number 6 directly in front
of the far left corner pocket. With no cue ball present his curiosity swept
onto the flat green and he merging lightning quick curiosity rose on the far
cue spot as a solid yellow 1 ball, equally sized and equally weighted with the
nearby solid green.
I am drawn into the 1 ball on the far cue spot. I
must have scratched the cue ball but it doesn't appear pocketed. I am
open-minded and ready for almost anything but losing my Vivian to her dusty
bones in the material world.
"You
have only my soul to hold onto, Merlyn," coached Vivian from afar.
"The
soul is a mystery," he grumbled. "I have only heart and mind to grasp
you with."
"Not
enough to hold in reason alone," set the soft leather tip to kiss the
yellow to move leisurely towards the green 6. Close enough for a
conversation on the elementary rules between two unlike souls closeting to
fellow Druids heartsanminds. "I am the one, Merlyn. Who might you
be?"
"Bracc's
ancient ghost, cornered, green with envy, and ready for the pocket."
"The
cue's been scratched."
"I
am stuck still, and in all honesty embarrassed I died in a resort of trickery,
to convince the base, the living, that I could speak to the Dead."
"But
you are the Dead speaking in this, my fabled mind, Bracc."
"Such
is your flat humor of last resort. Alas, I am done in."
"You
are on not in Bracc. There is no
trickery here."
"I
am but a poor soul caught, trapped, holed up by a pocket."
Merlyn
quick-wittedly remarked, "The economics of the soul have nothing to do
with pockets of poverty, I assure you my fellow Druid. You need to turn about
like those other once racked fellows similarly endowed round. The green is but
a painting, man."
Bracc responded, "As is your yellow,
Merlyn."
Merlyn
shifted his thought, "Two solids and a scratched cue, do you see meaning
in it?"
"My
wonder is why I am here at all."
"I
dreamt you; rather Grandma brought you up."
"As
a lesson?"
"I
thought so, but you are here as a cross-segmentation in dreamland."
"The
faeries have captured us both?"
"No
faeries, here, Bracc, unless you find faeryland in your soul."
"They
are in me mind and heart but not me soul."
"How
do you know this?" asked Merlyn in surprise.
"Because
faeries came about after creation not before," replied Bracc earnestly.
"Tricks came after."
I
thought hearts did the traveling, surmised Merlyn. There is more to a soul than
armor. "What do you know of the soul, Bracc?"
Merlyn
is asking a once-misguided Druid about the soul? How can this be? "I know it is lonely, Merlyn,"
rolled from heartanmind. "I do not know this, I know next to nothing,
Merlyn."
"Whose
voice was it then?"
"My
own. I know it is not from heartanmind, and that is as honest an answer as I
can give." Bracc paused. "I have learned to be an honest man since my
capture."
"Who
captured you?"
"I
do not know. I found myself in a sealed solid walled place. It had a
door."
"Did
you not try it?"
"Not
for several thousand years I reckoned, but when I did it opened and I was
freed. I do not know who held me or freed me, but it happened just as speaking
to you has happened. Avalon is an enchanted place just like the living said. I
have learned that also. I am learning many things even now."
"Your
heartanmind is learning?" asked Merlyn.
"I
would say the soul teaches. That is how it seems but I do not know this."
Even
the Dead don't have the words, thought Merlyn. I have learned something too.
***
The Brothers 20
The morning began with Robert glancing at the low
menacing dust ball-like clouds rolling in from the southwest. Matter of fact, like the weather,
he said to Connie, "It looks like a day of rain. Let's go to a movie."
She
nodded in agreement, saying, "I'll have to wash my hair. I'll call Cyndi
first to see if they want to go. What do you want to see?"
"Quartet"
is re-playing at the Drexel on Main, We all enjoyed the film; let's go see it
again."
Late
morning and the four are sitting in the northwest corner of Ernie's Grill,
Uptown Riverton, looking through the varied sheets of rain to the perky front
window of Patricia's Flowers pressing on the staid white marbled Citizen's Bank
directly on the other side of State Street. The sisters were finishing their
classic salads, mixed fruit cups and sharing a side of sweet potato fries while
Robert had finished his an Italian Combo and Richard his Cuban Panini. Both
were nibbling on their remaining sides of barbeque chips while waiting on
Connie and Cyndi to finish. Each had unsweetened ice tea with lemon with
Richard sipping on his second glass of caffeine free diet cola.
He
asked, "Anyone for a Graeter's for dessert?"
After
the movie," suggested Cyndi, "we can hardly finish our salads."
"That's
because you ate the sweet potato fries first."
"And,
you didn't even share them with us," grumbled Robert.
"You
could have ordered your own," quipped Connie with a smile.
"It is hard to believe that Dustin Hoffman was
born in 1937," noted Cyndi to Robert.
Smirking
contentiously from his wife's remark, Rob quickly smiled towards Cyndi,
"Not when you think back on The
Graduate, Hoffman looked pretty young when it came out."
Richard
chuckled in response and added, "We
were young back in 1967."
"You
were a quarter century," comment Connie and now we are all moving on to
three-quarters of a century."
Richard
continued, "Speaking of three-quarters of a century, how old is Maggie
Smith? She plays the grand lady Jean Horton in Quartet, and the old Dowager of Grantham in Downton Abbey."
Cyndi
corrected, "She is the Countess of Grantham."
"Whatever.
How old is Maggie?"
"She
was born 28 December 1934," said Robert Glancing down at his iPhone,
Robert said, "She was born 28 December 1934."
Connie
commented wholeheartedly, "Maggie puts her heart and soul into her work.
She is a wonderful actress." All ardently agreed.
Richard asked, "I
can understand her heart, Connie, but how does she put her soul into her work?
How does anyone put the soul into anything?"
"It's
her enthusiasm, Richard, her passion."
Cyndi
quickly followed suit, "Her quintessence."
Robert
added, "I've been looking it up and mostly all I get is references to the
song, the music. I looked up 'phrase - heart and soul' and it is still
reference to the music." He paused and tapped in more letters. "There
is "Brevity is the soul of wit,' and 'wearing one's heart on his sleeve',
but that is not what we are talking about here."
"Love
powers the heart," suggested Connie, "but what powers the soul?"
"Passion
powers the soul," stated Robert as if it were a fact.
"We
need a definition first," claimed Richard.
"No,
let's use a thesaurus, responded Robert. "Here, I have it. 'Spirit,
Embodiment or Quintessence." He sat surprised, "Cyndi's right,
quintessence."
"What's
the difference between one's spirit and a ghost?" asked Connie cynically.
Richard
was readying a sarcastic response when Cyndi swiftly connected the two,
"Like the Holy Spirit and the Holy Ghost."
"We
have argued this before," said Richard, "but let's say I agree with
you that you have a soul, but something more realistic than most everyone's
romantic fantasies. Let's say the soul is without mass but that it has energy
and carries information."
"What
kind of information?" asked Robert.
"Let's
say it is electromagnetic in some bazaar quantum mechanical way."
"Richard,"
said Cyndi, "let's don't follow Alice down the rabbit hole. We have heard
your Twilight Zone hypotheses
before."
"No,
I mean like light and radio waves can carry information. Perhaps they can store
a human self-awareness and memory. Perhaps the soul is a natural entity not a
supernatural one?
Robert
added, "Scientists can read our thoughts with signatures of the signals
generated by firing neurons. Whether this can be worked into a container or
soul I don't know."
"This
is that connection between the physics of light and thought, Rob."
"I
don't think of a person's heart and soul and physics in the same breath,"
noted Cyndi.
"Love
is not physics, is it? Do you agree with that, Rob?" asked his wife.
Richard
succinctly interrupted saying, "Do you think it is going to rain like this
all day?"
***
Grandma's Story 20
Fifteen
years have gone by and Grandma knows Criteria and Renaldo never married nor
consummated their relationship. They have become partners, story gatherers of
human truths. In their travels, Criteria has taken Renaldo to Rome, Athens,
Jerusalem and Cairo.
Criteria
feels almost all narratives are derived from one original story, just as she senses
all people are descendants of Adam and Eve. Renaldo thinks the accounts are
spawned by your spiritual nature. He doesn’t agree with Criteria that a Master
First Story existed. He parallels his thinking with Pythagoras who noted some
numbers are special and thus held sacred and that, likewise, some stories are
sacred. The two continually discuss these issues but never argue them; secretly
fearing of offending the other to the point it would destroy their extended
soul-felt friendship.
The
two, on horseback, are on the road from Rome to the Abbey of Saint Maurice and
from the abbey they were to head north to Notre Dame du Clarier, the Cathedral
of Sion in Valais.
"The
Bishops of Sion and of the Abbey of Saint Maurice are rumored of creating a
speculation," said Criteria amusingly, “I wonder what this is about?”
“A
sin, no doubt,” mirrored Renaldo's chuckle. “If there is a good story, a sin is
involved.” He had been assessing the founding his own story about their
surviving the previous night's unusual tornado, but he couldn't conjure a sin
to carry the wind of it.
Reading
his face Criteria declared, “In last night's cyclonic tempest, God have taken
our bodies and souls.”
Renaldo
responded, “I thought that. Aristotle, Pythagoras and Plato made allowances for
the soul's survival -- a method by which the soul may travel from one body to
another.”
Criteria
joked, “Metatempsycosis, modernized ideas from the Gnostics but not Rome.”
Renaldo
abruptly noted, “The Church says the body is resurrected, that the body is not
separate from the soul.”
“Pythagoras
said the body was divided from the soul and that the soul could transmigrate
from one body to another." A pause then, “I like Pythagoras because he
sometimes taught to an all woman audience, that one of the philosophical
monastic orders was all women and they held their property in common.”
“We
hold our property in common too, Criteria,” added Renaldo in laughter. “We are
a monastic order of two.”
“We
are,” she said and snuggled in close. She added affectionately, “We are one in
our hearts.”
Renaldo
warmly kissed her forehead, adding, "and our souls." They quickly
fell asleep in each other’s arms.
Criteria
stirred at dawn, “Renaldo, are you awake?”
“I
was thinking about the soul and perhaps it is possible that an angel would hold
of them if we both had died," said an obviously awake Renaldo.
Criteria
sat up in interest. “How, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?”
Smiling
contentedly he said, “Because an angel holds each of us in his hand?”
After
bread and fresh water they climbed on the horses and continued north on the
road from Rome to St. Maurice.
That
evening after a meal of stewed goat meat and onions at the White Cross Inn the
Frank, Comets del Acqs III, interrupted them.
His
coat of arms clearly visible from a chain, he asks, “Good pilgrims, do you mind
if I sit?”
Both
stood in politeness, “Kind Lord, of course not, replied Renaldo. “We heard you
were staying at the inn. It is an honor to meet you, sire.”
“You
are a legend, sire,” professed Criteria, “as were your great, great grandfather
and great, great grandmother, King Pharamond and Queen Argotta.
Comets
del Acqs eyed her carefully and commented, “I think you are a princess in disguise.”
Criteria
set a standard aristocratic smile, saying in Greek, “I am but a simple pilgrim,
kind sir.”
“And
a scholarly one who knows her native language,” he replied. “I know your father
and one of your brothers.”
Renaldo
gently interrupted, “Kind Lord, do you have a story for our scribing? I am sure
Rome would enjoy the story from an illustrious a Lord as yourself.”
He
sat amused. Criteria and Renaldo sat. “I have a story. My grandfather had a
daughter, Viviane of Avallon del Acqs. My great, great aunt married Prince Taliesin,
the Arch Druid.”
“Blasphemy
in Rome, sire,” responded Renaldo while assessing the titled name, Viviane.
Comet
replied bluntly, “But not with the Franks, pilgrim. This is not Rome.”
Criteria
touched Comets del Acqs sleeve. “Indeed, Sir, it is not."
“You
are your father’s daughter, that I can see and I note that Pythagoras rests on
the extra chair.
“Plato
and Aristotle too,” added Renaldo.
Criteria
quickly remarked, “Renaldo is right, Plato, Aristotle and Pythagoras -- our two
Greek columns and a pyramid,” and thankfully observed Comet del Acqs boisterous
grin.
***
Diplomatic Pouch 20
Blake and the phrase, "define the
soul" tossed about in bed during the night. We say the soul is our
essence, the embodiment of our individual selves. The soul is our mind as
separate from our heart; but no, our mind is our reasoning, our consciousness,
not our soul. Philosophies say our soul is our greater sense of duality, our
immortal part. We are not gods. Besides the feminine pouch how is their Godofamily
different from what many human equate with God, usually male. The Mother or the
Father, what connotations are connected with each. They can know no more than
we on such things were they a hundred thousand years ahead of us in their
knowledge, society and technology? They are no wiser than we; otherwise they
wouldn't have been stumbling around in our initial meetings. These alien people
appear polite, kind and mannerly. We can be polite, kind and mannerly also. We
can be . . .. Blake awoke immediately.
In short time Blake knocked on Pyl and
Justine's door. Within minutes they were walking to breakfast. No sooner than
they were settled with milk, juice and bowls of cereal that Hartolite and
Friendly walked into the room with Yermey following shortly thereafter. After a
few minutes of casual banter among the six (and a bit of wit between Yermey and
Blake) Blake drew the conclusion that his sister was attracted to Yermey for
his mind and comfortably for no other reason. None Blake could think on in any
case and he realized that Justin had not the hint of any jealousy so he
dismissed it. He asked a question. "Last night we were talking about the
soul. I am interested in your concept; do you people think of the soul as
intellectual and emotional as we think of the mind and the heart?"
"Morning
fresh," smiled Friendly, "these matters are easier to speak on. We
think of the soul as immortal though not the same as Godofamily is
immortal."
Hartolite
added. "Our species and your own have similar thoughts on souls, hearts
and minds. Each has no material weight nor is it in the same four dimensional
space we find our physical selves."
"We
observe the heart and soul and mind through our personal thoughts and actions
but they are immeasurable," continued Friendly.
"We
discern the heartansoulanmind in our friends also; just as you do,"
reinforced Hartolite.
Blake
commented somewhat in dismay, "You are some twenty thousand years ahead of
us and you are no further along scientifically? Last night, Yermey said that
you have machinery that can detect a person's soul."
"I
think I said the word has to be defined first. This is easier to do in our home
language because you focus on details. Hartolite brought this up just a minute
ago when she spoke of how we cannot quantify the soul. We would never think to
weight the heartansoulanmind." He muttered, "It is madness to think
on weighing the soul."
Pyl
touched Yermey's hand in compassion, "It is madness; this is not how we three imagine the soul. We don't
find the mind or even the soul as nearly as mysterious as the human
heart." Her sentence ended with a softly humane smile.
"That
is another subject," commented Justin. "What can we say about the
soul that we earthlings agree with?
"We
can say," declared Yermey, "that soul is immortal."
Justin asked, "I notice you say
heartansoulanmind like it is one word."
"We
look at it as if it were one so when speaking in English it flows as one
word," responded Friendly.
With
strong interest Justin asked, "How did you come on that?"
"I
think it is our pouches that made the initial differences in our species, that
is, the differences as how we see the world philosophically." She gave a
slight pause and glanced to Yermey.
"Early
on, just like you, when we had our own form of hunters and gatherers, our
tribes and territories."
"Particularly
when we were on a single planet," interrupted Hartolite.
"Yes,"
replied Yermey with grumbled voice and eyes on Hartolite, "when we were on
a single planet." He paused with wide eyes and open thought and said,
"Growing pouched is a community. We are heartansoulanmind first. Growing
pouched is as much psychological as it is physical. Our small groups evolved
from the pouch concept. This group evolves into our species as a family unit.
We are connected physically through sharing, just as our individual
heartsanminds share an individual soul, an immortal shell," he paused,
"to us, the shell is a pouch, you see."
Being
open, frank and a bit irritated, Pyl looked Yermey in the eye saying, "I
have a womb, not a pouch. What's that worth?"
***
Chapter
Twenty-one
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 four-leafed chapter dream grows to novel size and beyond. Merlyn
kneads the dreams into words, the music for the heartansoulanmind whose
transcendental spirit shines. The words cast a light for those have no sight
and for those with an imagination that casts no shadow.
***
The Dead 21
Merlyn
awoke from stone thinking, the Living do not understand how the Second Rebellion
began when it did let alone how it ended, he thought. How do I best explain
these unseen and thus unknown events to the Living?
In
short order Merlyn had rolled his spectral eyes back into his spectral head to
discover he was about to have a discussion with Glevema and Panagiotakis right
in his own sanctuary. Within from the door way to his hut Merlyn saw the oak
billiard table rise from the stone boulder just as he had risen from the stony
sleep of the Dead. Merlyn moved, gaining confidence as he glanced down from the
height of the giant oak to the table below to see two balls, each on a cue
mark, and an oak cue stick lying on the table green near the white cue ball and
on the other cue mark the black 8 ball. Merlyn blinked. I am the stick, Takis
is the white and Mother is the 8 ball. The pockets shift. One pocket connects
to the heart, another to the soul, and a third to the mind; the other three are
random existential nightmares. My cue tip needs to strike old Takis and send
him to lightly kiss Mother and send her towards the far right corner, estimated
Merlyn. Then, before I ask my question I must strike with the cue ball and
drive her into her most focused heartansoulanmind corner of the moment. I can
only hope to drive her into heart's pocket for a truthfully honest response.
Semi-conscious of the timing Merlyn struck the cue
ball, which, as the physics would have it, tapped the 8 ball a bit further and
harder to the left side of the ball than he had anticipated. The white ball
rolled to the left and almost scratched in the far corner pocket, and in
Merlyn's mind the 8 ball unfolded an almost unlikely destined path to the left
corner pocket and dropped in. 'Not good,' concluded Merlyn, 'A faery's trick,'
added his struck heart.
His
understood questions on the Second Rebellion had drilled into Mother's soul and
into his heart instead. "I should have stopped with Takis," grumbled
Merlyn, "I should have let the cue ball run the table."
The Victorian styled oak billiard table collaborated
into mist and sunk into the stone bolder. Merlyn stood alone with Mother three
arm's length away, boldly staring at him, as almost all mothers are wont to do
with a naughty child near hand.
"Do
you think I did not see through your tactics to use my grandfather to soften my
soul?"
"I
was aiming at your heart, dear Mother of all mothers. I see I missed my
mark."
The
soul tends to show an armor of indifference, thought Mother while considering a
response to Merlyn's initial question. "Nuclear weaponry," declared
Mother, and all those dead from murdering in political conflicts and two major
wars during the first half of the twentieth century. Even my first friends
among the Dead, the marsupial humanoid Dead pleaded for a short-ordered Second
Rebellion to address the parental anxieties of both species for their living
children."
"The
Living do not know about the marsupial humanoids other than my fictional
stories, Mother. How do I turn this into story form?"
"You
were sorted out, Merlyn. I assume you are up to the job," replied Mother
rather huffily. "Once the marsupial humanoids actually landed on Earth and
tragically died in secret attempt to present themselves in July, 1947; their
Dead decided it was time to re-introduce themselves to Mother. The reasonableness
of Eisenhower’s Farewell Speech became the trigger -- the madness of a world of
industrial-military complexes would eventually create a horrific global social
circumstance in which humanity both collectively and individually would have no
choice but to shut itself off soulanmind-wise, Merlyn. This is something you
can certainly understand and sell to the Living; individual and collective
humanity essentially becoming a closed camp within, the breadth of the human
heart struck with the cryptic thought that work alone can make you free."
She paused to let this sink in, and then added, "Merlyn, how would we many
Dead grow and flourish under such heartless conditions of power and
consequence?
Subdued
or not, a reckoning would come, ruminated
Merlyn, as surely as I one of the Dead, walk with or without consequence among
those presently Living. The Second Rebellion ended while I have been here, in
two places at once, among the Living and among the Dead. Even I do not know how
or why this came to be. But who really knows the how's and why's of any
rebellions or wars. Freedom, what is freedom without the fullness of one's
heartansoulanmind?
***
The Brothers 21
Richard
and Robert are sitting in the morning shade on a bench in Riverton watching
people and traffic move through the busy Uptown intersection of State and
College. Richard always liked this corner from where he could see one of his
favorite boyhood places, the weathered State Movie Theatre marquee once grandly
lit. Robert never was the movie fan, fancied Richard.
Rob's
boyhood took in bound textbook-like words to carve a life based on what human
reality is, the physical body. Richard liked the adventurous photographs in Life as much as words of daring and
diversion. Rob became a cardiothoracic surgeon and I became a professor of
literature. We are still living nearby in our hometown, but identically twin
bodies do not identical twin minds make, considered Richard. He glanced across
the street waiting to see Cyndi and Connie emerge from Schneider's Bakery with
four small cups of coffee and four fresh and tasty white cream-filled doughnuts
topped with a layer of chocolate icing. "Let's move on to something else,
Rob, I'm tired of talking about money."
Interrupted
from his focus on the marquee, Rob tapped his brother's shoulder, replying,
"Talking and thinking are two different things, Dickie." In clear and
exact memory Rob had been focusing on his recently completed poem.
*
L I L L I A N G I S H
News:
senseless beyond the deadline,
prisoner
to a here and now,
reports
any hearsay, the current heresies.
She:
its quick legend in catchwords,
memorable
as a persistent comet is memorable,
Old
light of whom reaches us years later.
She
is Beatrice: graceful frames of spirit;
comet
to fixed star; sister to star
forms
through whom travelers know --
earth
as Diana, child of wild things,
gathering
broken blossoms with voice of arms
in
the first light a chaste lover brings;
fire
as Athena, eyes flashing with battle-charm,
holds
our souls, fragile as daylight, through the night,
breaking
the dark air of harm;
water
as Venus, love's strong voice of light,
laughing
with the long hair of waves gently bearing
the
sea-worn swells of doubt from every lover's eyes;
air
as Mary, sensuous truth as heroine,
whose
dark lips of pure fire melt that elemental
cold
of pretense in the frightened soul of hope.
Child
to woman to spirit of silent grace,
from
way down east rising with the northern sun,
always
new, the unforgettable faces of Lillian Gish.
•••
Richard
asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"Lillian
Gish. The marquee got me thinking about her." He stopped; then, "The
girls have been in the bakery for sixteen minutes."
"She
was famous in the silent movies. What about Lillian Gish? She's dead isn't
she?"
"The
poem is about her unforgettable faces. She died in 1993, Dickie." He
pointed, "Here they come. The restaurant's not open yet. Let's meet them
at the tables across the street."
As
Richard looked at the traffic and the people moving in street light order he
had a flash of thought on how it might be as being only an existential heartansoulanmind walking across the street.
"The most basic form of consciousness," rolled out.
"What's
that?"
"I
am thinking on minimal consciousness, if there is such an animal,"
acknowledged Richard.
"We
hoped no less in the operating room," chuckled Rob, continuing with,
"A minimal animal, you want a jellyfish," as they crossed with the
light he added, "I'm ready for coffee with cream and a cream-filled
doughnut."
The
most basic form of spiritual
consciousness is human consciousness,
continued Richard in silent reflection. Let's say this minimal consciousness is
in a quantum state not unlike a quantum bit in a computer. The classical bit is
stored as a 1 or a 0 but a quantum bit is stored as a 0 and 1 event at the same
time. This is similar to the condition of Schrödinger's Cat in quantum mechanics. This spiritual consciousness both
exists and does not exist at the same time. A human being can feel or sense the heartansoulanmind existing. It is like being on stage or
being off stage. One may never completely know where the theatre is or what the
discovery of the humor of the joke is.
This
then is the grammar of the heartansoulanmind, it is not necessarily the words
in a linear string; it may be where it is not, between the lines. I think there
may be something to this. Now, what would the form of this heartansoulanmind
really be, and how would it function?
"We
got you two the cream-filled doughnuts you like," said Connie.
"But
they only had three," added Cyndi. "So I took the jelly."
***
Grandma's Story 21
Both were surprise to find
Merlyn leading them from the main road to an unobserved grassy path where the
walked the horses in an awkward quietness for most of the afternoon. As they
were coming upon a rise Merlyn said, "This travel has been for the comfort
of the Lady. We are about to enter the grounds of the Stones where I have royal
guests.
Ever
so politely Criteria asked, "How did you guess my royalty, Merlyn?"
“The
voice, m’Lady, "undresses the disguise. I know these things, as did my
predecessor Taliesin-the-Bard.
“I
cannot tell where you are from Merlyn,” said Criteria in a flirtatious mood.
“I
set my dialect to match your own m’Lady, it is a part of my stock and trade.”
In
undisguised resentment Renaldo interrupted, “We are here, Sir, on behalf of
Rome to transcribe and collect stories for the Bishop.”
"I
am not one for titles, Renaldo," quipped Merlyn. "My interest here is
building blood. You see the three ladies standing by the pond. They are of the
House of Avallon, you two shall meet these sisters first."
Hesitant,
Criteria declared, "My uncle was
King in Greece. However, my work is common within the Church of Rome."
"Royal
blood rises or falls together," grumbled Merlyn. Shortly we will be done
with this.
Should
I begin with Holy Island or Merlyn, thought Criteria upon approaching the three
with Merlyn at her side. The Queen, Igraine, smiling and extending her hand in
kindly tone said, "I am glad Merlyn invited you, Prince Criterion of
Greece."
Having
forgot who she really was, Criteria stood momentarily startled.
"Please
meet my sisters, Morgause and Viviane."
"Did
you ever meet the Bishop of Rome, himself, Prince Criterion?" asked
Morgause.
She
showed them her ring, "You are charmingly social overwhelmingly
friendly," commented Criteria, "I am sure we are in some ways cousins
and share blood, but first you need know this is but a disguise for Rome and
safer travel. No one knows of my womanhood save Renaldo my priestly
companion."
Upon
the further introduction Queen Igraine modestly whispered for all to hear,
"Your secret is frozen within us. What secret is it in the man that you
the woman now know?"
First,
the laughter then the quiet talk, concluded Merlyn as the chat meandered into
the great house for further discussion.
In
due time Morgause commented, “we are envious of our sister, but it is our
husbands’ fault not hers. The men do not have the ambitions we three have.”
“You
work within Columba’s league,” suggested Criteria.
“We
work within the Celtic church. We are women of the old ways because of our
mother. We did not always get along with her, and we do not get along with each
other. This meeting is political theatre.”
Deciding
she could put her trust in them, Criteria said, “Merlyn told me he has a plan.”
“Merlyn
always has a plan,” laughed Viviane. “He said the spirits will be here with us
when he tells his story.”
Criteria
reflected aloud, “He didn’t tell me he had a story to tell.”
In
a while with Criteria and Renaldo, Morgause, seemingly alone, commented, “We
are envious of our sister, but it is our husbands’ fault not hers. The men do
not have the ambitions we three have.”
With
this Criteria abruptly commented, “You work within Columba’s league against
Rome.”
“We
are Greek also,” replied Igraine in quick surprise to her younger sister, “Our
line flows from Abraham and Sarah through Troy.”
“I
know you have Greek blood through Princess Argotta,” said Criteria. “We are no
doubt cousins, but the Church feels you have a story of another notable
bloodline.”
More
quietly Morgause noted, “We have the blood of Joseph of Arimathea.”
"And,"
added Viviane with Merlyn at her side, "perhaps James, the brother of
Jesus."
Queen
Igraine coldly eyed Merlyn while adding sarcastically, “We use the Dead as they
use us."
Suddenly
standing as stone among these few, Merlyn's eyes rolled into the top of his
head and he thought these unscheduled prophetic words he could not, in those
days of life, come to say aloud.
In
these books Grandma has the gift of gab,
For
Merlyn’s crystal to send this private confab;
The
Dead speak short; the Dead speak true,
This
fiction, my earthy child is set in you.
***
Diplomatic Pouch 21
It
is Thursday, 14 June 2012. This day Blake, Pyl and Justin leave in an alien Ship for a flight across the Milky Way
Galaxy to ThreePlanets with marsupial humanoids Friendly, Hartolite and Yermey.
They may be away home planet Earth for up to a year.
Diplomatic
Pouch began in a pressurized 1979 Cessna T210N Turbo Centurion returning from
Detroit to Cleveland. Those on board, pilot Blake Williams, his co-pilot and
sister Pyl and her husband Justin were discussing their recent experience at
the Detroit Auto Show while flying across Lake Erie. That was six very short
months ago.
Presently,
Pyl Williams-Burroughs sits quietly
in the kitchen with a glass of milk and a favorite last Jennifer cookie from
the nearby On the Rise Bakery on Fairmount Boulevard in Cleveland Heights. It
is nearly time to leave. Everything has been taken care of down in Cincinnati
and here in Cleveland. Our friends and fellow colleagues believe we have taken leave
for university research jobs with the University of Sao Paulo, Brazil for the
next year. Our houses are rented as of July 1.
I
am ready. I go with my husband and brother so I am not alone. I am quite
compatible with Hartolite and Friendly so I have strong woman companions. I
cannot imagine how this will be. We are studying the language and becoming
saturated with the general culture. We have only to be ourselves and live
honestly, something we three have attempted to do our entire lives. Strangely,
if it were not for what I have witnessed with Ship I don't know if I would have the trust and feel the security
that this can be pulled off and that we will all be the better for it.
Justin
Wayne Burroughs sits on the toilet in the upstairs bathroom. The room is dark.
He can see the reflective floor light from under the closed door. I cannot
believe we are doing this. I cannot believe that we will witness the history of
an alien human culture. We do not know everything about ourselves after all
this time and I will see how a culture of three worlds grew from a few tribes
to what it is, essentially a culture twenty thousand years ahead of our own.
Yet, inwardly we are as the same species. This is beyond words.
I
love Pyl with all my heart. I do this with her, my partner for life. Blake is
family. We are family. What adventures will we have? What will we experience? I
cannot wait. Ship is the comfort. To
think flying makes me nervous, but traveling with, I mean, in Ship solidifies
my feelings. He makes me secure. I am so surprised that, even at this hour, I
have no real fears; none that I with those that come from staying on this
planet.
Blake
Williams sits on an old oak chair in his basement workspace thinking how it is
going to be. This will be the most interesting year of my life. I will get to
work with Yermey, one of their greatest minds. I want to know his questions as
well as earlier questions that now have answers. We have common threads. Yermey
speaks of the heartansoulanmind as if it is real. I wonder what are the most
important values the people hold true? How did they learn to live together?
Sometimes I think their species is better than we are; but they have been
around longer, that's all.
I
cannot imagine us being mistreated. Ship
would never allow that. It is easier to trust machinery than it is people.
Maybe that's the reason we love material things so much. Things can be made
stable and secure. We love our machinery large and small. Ship is just an
offshoot. I cannot wait to see what these people have at their disposal on
their own planets. Hell, I am ready to leave this planet for good, with no
good-byes and no regrets. He stands and walks up the stairs without looking
back, sees Pyl and says, "Are you ready?"
She
stands smiling. "I am."
Blake
shouts up the stairs, "Justin, are you ready to go?"
The
toilet flushed. Justin opened the door and replied, "I'm ready as I'll
ever be."
Blake's
words, "Let's go then," were not a command. Both Pyl and Justin heard
considerate calm in the words, friendly brotherly advice. They followed him out
the back door. The three looked up to a surprise, a set of aluminum steps
dropped down and they climbed up one by one. The steps lifted up automatically.
The door was sealed shut, Ship said, "Time for a nightcap."
Friendly,
Hartolite and Yermey entered the room and Friendly, with a wonderfully
veracious smile said, "Welcome aboard."
***
Summaries of Chapters 19, 20, 21:
The
Dead 19,20,21
The
physical and mental struggle remembered by Merlyn when he first met the young
Vivian. "Be gone then, and leave me to my rest." Merlyn asks Bracc
the storyteller about what he learned since death - the soul teaches. Merlyn at
pool with the 8 ball, Mother. Important experiences all.
The Brothers 19,20,21
Rob and Rich at home discuss how humans are
self-reflective biochemical mass that are pre-programmed to doubt as are Cyndi
and Connie. Then husbands and wives discussion on Maggie Smith being the
quintessence and what that is in terms of quantum mechanics. Ending with R and
R at the bakery and Rob's poem on Lillian Gish; and to heartansoulanmind being
shaped as a jellyfish.
Grandma's Story 19,20,21
Story 19
Criterios and Renaldo meet
on way to see the bones of St. James the Elder, brother of Jesus at Santiago de Compostela in Galicia. A priest and a
secret princess become solid friends and Grandma decides to follow their love
story to where it eventually leads.
Story 20
Criterios and Renaldo meet
and follow same path at Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in study of Apostle,
St. James the Greater. Fifteen years later the two on the road to the Abbey of
St. Maurice where they discuss metatempsycosis and meet the Frank, Comets del
Acqs, III related to Pharamond and Arogotta and discuss Viviane of Avallon del
Acqs (grandfather had a daughter).
Story 21
Criteria and Renaldo meet Merlyn in west France
where he takes them to meet Queen Igraine del Acqs and sisters Morgause and
Viviane. “We are Greek also,” replied Igraine in quick
surprise to her younger sister, “Our line flows from Abraham and Sarah through
Troy.” “I know you have Greek blood through Princess Argotta,” said Criteria.
More quietly Morgause noted, “We have the blood of Joseph of Arimathea.” "And,"
added Viviane with Merlyn at her side, "perhaps James, the brother of
Jesus." So, the genealogy may work
its way from Sarah and Abraham.
Diplomatic Pouch 19,20,21
Yermey develops a discussion with Pyl to whom he is
attracted. Blake is also attracted to Yermey's mind. Justin comes to Pyl's aid
in dialogue. Blake, Pyl and Justin
together at breakfast when Hartolite enters. Discussion on heartansoulanmind.
Pyl learns of and is touched by Yermey's concern for the soul and what the
heartansoulanmind really is - the shell, he ends is the pouch. Fourteen June
2012 and each have their own thoughts on leaving Earth for a year. All are in
the decision that it is worth the experience.
***
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