Yesterday, Monday, you attended a sudden family funeral with Carol and your sister Cathy in Lewis Center.
Afterwards you picked up Kim and the four of you ate at Bun’s Restaurant in
Delaware. Carol had a chicken roll up; Kim, lasagna, Cathy, a chicken salad and
you had an old childhood favorite, liver; onions and bacon and dark gravy on mash potatoes. You dropped
Kim off and saw Paul as he was home from the hospital then you dropped off
Cathy and came home. In the evening you watched the two hour conclusion to this year's D. Abbey and tonight's "Castle".
Time is moving towards noon. You have done your exercises but little else but care for the Jadah cat whom needed warmth and petting. She is small and bunny-like soft, which you find cute and cuddly. – Amorella
1155 hours. I did shovel most of the driveway. We had a dusting to an inch depending. All the driveways and street appear clear now though the city also spread salt early this morning also.
1325 hours. It is time for me to kick in and work on Grandma 20.
Go to it. Soon Carol will be getting ready to go to lunch. Post. - Amorella
You bought a Subway lunch to share, brought it home and watched last night's "The Blacklist" and "Intelligence". Then Carol napped, a rare occurrence.
1809
hours. I have slightly revised Grandma 20.
Add and post. Remember we shall look at
these one more time, on paper and then make the final corrections where needed.
– Amorella
***
(final) Grandma's Story 20 ©2014, rho G.M.G.One
Fifteen years have gone by and
Criteria and Renaldo never consummated their relationship or married. They had
become partners, story gatherers. In their travels, Criteria had 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 an 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; 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 to a point, “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, 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 listened. “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. But, he pondered, who is this Viviane?
Criteria
quickly remarked, “Renaldo is right, Plato, Aristotle and Pythagoras -- our two
Greek columns and a pyramid,” as she thankfully observed Comet del Acqs
boisterous grin.
***
You watched the evening
news then had still excellent tasting leftover Arizona turkey soup for supper.
You have toyed with Diplomatic Pouch Twenty and have it working better, at
least you feel it is. – Amorella
2046 hours. I do, but I am
not completely satisfied. Each of these segments is a short story or a glimpse
into the dreams that are in Merlyn’s reality. I do not know if I am conveying
this properly in words. In a way each segment (in my mind) is as a short story
in Chaucer’s Tales. His stories however carry a moral weight that these carry
in character and intensity of spirit. I am not wording this properly either. I
don’t know why I have this obsession to attempt to communicate with written
words when I cannot do so orally either. There is shear frustration from time
to time to realize that I am not so excellent a writer as I would like to be.
It is too long of my life, forty years or more, perhaps fifty years that I have
continually absorbed some of the best of world and English literature. Words
that I love and have great passion for, but when I write I run into these
cul-de-sacs and out again realizing that I cannot write as the greats. I don’t
know why, deep inside that I feel I can write as they.
Your
defiance at the odds and arrogance, that’s what it comes down to boy. -
Amorella
2100 hours. You speak
directly Amorella. I can accept this. I have to accept this as a truth. What
else? Nothing comes to mind in my own defense on the subject in context.
Add your Diplomatic Pouch
Twenty and we will call it a day. Post. – Amorella
***
(final) Diplomatic Pouch 20 ©2014, rho GMG.One
Morning
and Blake lay in bed mulling over his thoughts. These people know no more than
we on such things though they are twenty thousand years ahead of us in their knowledge,
society and technology. These people are no wiser than we; otherwise they
wouldn't have been stumbling around in our initial meetings. Friendly,
Hartolite and even Yermey appear polite, kind and mannerly. We can be polite, kind
and mannerly also. They are no better than we are when it comes to knowing who
we are and why we are here.
In a short time Blake knocked
on Pyl and Justine's door. Within minutes the three were walking to breakfast.
No sooner than they were settled with coffee, tea, milk, juice and bowls of
cereal that Hartolite and Friendly walked into the room with Yermey following
shortly thereafter.
Blake
quickly drew the conclusion that Pyl was attracted to Yermey for his mind and for
no other reason. Blake also realized that Justin had not the hint of any
jealousy so he dismissed his dark thought. With a lull in conversation Blake
asked, "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 charged
as we think of the mind and the heart?"
Friendly
smiled, "These matters are perhaps easier to speak on in the freshness of
morning.” She glanced at her comrades and continued, “we think of the soul as
remaining neutral and 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 thinks of them separately and having no material weight and
seemingly taken up no space within our physical selves. That is if you consider
the mind to be a spiritual-like place beyond the thought processes of the
brain."
"We
discern the heartansoulanmind to be in our friends also; just as you do,"
reinforced Hartolite, “each is in our individual selves but also spiritually
communal.
Blake
commented somewhat in dismay, "You are some twenty thousand years ahead of
us and you are no further along? Last night, Yermey said that you have
machinery that can detect a person's soul."
"This
is easier to do in our home language and loses something in translation. Our
machinery cannot quantify the soul.”
“We
would never think to weight the heartansoulanmind,” muttered Yermey in the
dullness of the presentation. "It is madness to think on such a point."
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, “first, what can we say about the
soul that we all agree with?
"We
can say," declared Yermey, "that the heartansoulanmind is
immortal."
Justin commented, "You
continue to say heart and soul and mind 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 politely.
With
strong interest Justin asked, "How did you come on that?" He thought,
Yermey make one’s heart and soul and mind sound like a trinity.
Friendly
added, "I think it is our physical pouches that make the initial
differences in our species, that is, these provide a genuine difference on how
we view the world." She glanced to Yermey for continuation.
He
said, "Early on we were just like you. we had our families of hunters and
gatherers, our tribes and our separate territories."
"Particularly
when we felt we were stuck 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 in our species. 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,"
Yermey paused to gather himself from talking too fast, "to us, the shell
is a pouch, you see."
Being
open, frank and a bit irritated with his dogmatic style, Pyl looked Yermey in
the eye saying, "I have a womb, not a pouch. What's that worth to you
Yermey?”
***
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