Mid-afternoon. After shoveling four inches of snow from the driveway
you napped for a couple of hours, had cereal for lunch and are presently
enjoying a diet Coke while Carol is reading a new book (sent to her by your
sister Cathy) on relieving knee injuries.
You
saw online that one of your favorite high school teachers, Ralph Readout, has
died.
** **
Ralph Earl Readout, age 82, was born on March 12, 1931 and
passed away on February 12, 2014. Preceded in death by sister, Dorothy (John)
Morris and brother Clarence Readout. Survived by loving wife of 63 years,
Dorothy Ann (Dottie) Readout; brother Edward (Mackye) Readout; sister-in-law,
Janice Readout and brother-in-law Howard (Barbara) Cassady. many wonderful
family members, nieces, nephews and special nephew David Cassady. At Ralph's
request there will be no services. Private burial will be held at later date.
In lieu of flowers friends may contribute to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society
or to a charity of your choice. Arrangements by the MORELAND FUNERAL HOME,
Westerville, Ohio.
** **
1511 hours. I had Mr. Readout for American Government. His class was
always interesting because he gave a very good presentation. What you saw is
what you got, a very caring person who was interested in showing the young what
the political world was like. He always taught us to think for ourselves. I
liked and respected the man who dared to share his passion and intellect for
important civil matters as well as for the virtues of sports. May he rest in
peace.
You are home. – Later, you are delighted
with the aroma of the roast beef cooking in the kitchen. It is your plan to
work on Grandma and Pouch Seventeen tonight. – Amorella
1654 hours. It is. I feel compelled to move through these chapters
but I do not know why other than I want to see them completed.
That’s reason enough, but you also are
gaining an interest in how book two is going to be, that there is a
metamorphosis going on, that the books are changing course ever so subtly. –
Amorella
Very good wording, Amorella, better than I could come up with. I
would have thought it would be wishful thinking, but it is not like that. It
would be rather pleasant to move on however.
1717
hours. I like Grandma’s Story 17 very much. I don’t know that a reader will get
much from it, but I do. I am satisfied there is a nugget of truth within the
content of the event told. In fact it reminds me of a poem I wrote some time
ago.
Dig up the poem and place it here first.
Then you will better see how I have dug to create this story. – Amorella
1925 hours. We had excellent roast beef, carrots and half a potato
for supper. We even ate at the dining room table. This was after I spent about
thirty minutes in the cold of the basement looking for that poem, “Wizardry
101” is the title. I can’t find it. I found some other writings though; not
useful in this context though.
Finish with Diplomatic Pouch Seventeen and
we’ll go from there. – Amorella
1936
hours. This segment didn’t need much work either. Here are the Grandma 17 and Pouch
17 segments.
Drop in and post. – Amorella
***
(final) Grandma's Story 17 ©2014, rho
GMG.One
This chapter’s
story setting is in three hundred and five and we are in the Roman town of
Durolevum, Britannia, present day Canterbury, England.
We are visiting a couple as they were in
their memorable fifties. At fifty, Copia Minor is a tiny woman with red and
streaks of gray hair.
One
of the favorite places to Copia Minor and Lethargus was the Roman temple built
on the southwest side of the city. This temple was designed smaller but
appeared similar to the Supreme Court Building in Washington.
Empty, the temple
appeared as a mausoleum in search of an occupant. It became the couple's
privately shared memorial, a playroom for their two lost young children who had
accidently drown in the Rhine. Lethargus and Copia Minor had placed the private
toys and memories of the children on the empty temple floor where they believed
their children played together once again.
One day Copia
said, “I do believe they have gone on. I don’t see them anymore.”
“I never saw
them,” said Lethargus. “I know you did. That was enough for me.”
“The children
were here yesterday. Today they are not.”
Lethargus sighed,
“That is the way it was on the Rhine.”
“How could our
children's spirits leave the temple?” asked Copia.
“How did they
arrive here in the first place?” asked Lethargus.
“Perhaps they
returned to our hearts,” suggested Copia.
“Our hearts are
no place for young children to be. We will die one day, then where will they
go?”
“Use your glass,
Lethargus. Put them under glass.”
“Glass is not to
be used for such spiritual matters.”
“Why?”
“The soul may be
trapped forever beneath its transparency.”
“Use a special
glass, Lethargus,” she pleaded softly. “I know they are hiding somewhere.”
“You said they
were gone only moments ago.”
“I was wrong. The
children are hiding,” she pleaded. “We need to put their young souls in the
special bottle that we can carry with us.”
Copia was suddenly afraid her children's spirits had
slid through the cracks in the temple floor. She heard her heart pleading,
"Vipsania and Germanicus, please come out of hiding. Come be with your
mother." She thought, the children believe I am playing
a game with them.
Copia
waited and waited. Lethargus did not return as quickly as she expected him to.
He is always a busy man. Deep
inside Copia Minor is thinking the worst; my
children have seeped between the cracks and are sliding into the Underworld by
themselves. A good parent should be there with them to help them along the way.
She was beside herself as to what to do.
This
is when I, Grandma in disguise, showed myself at the door of the temple and I
quietly asked, “Copia, can I be of any assistance?
“Momma,”
replied Copia, “Momma, I can’t find my children? Shut the door, Momma. Please
shut the door. I do not know what I’m going to do without my two lovely
children. I promised them one of us would always be there for them. I thought
they’d like it better in the temple here than in the Rhine River.
The
children talk to me, and I can see them. Lethargus doesn’t see them, but he
knows I can. It gives him comfort to know that. I have never lied to him in my
life, Momma. He is a good man. He is a good husband. We fell in love at the
temple on the Rhine, Momma. This is a smaller temple but our hearts are in here
Momma, and our children. I just hope I can still save them.” Suddenly a storm
of reality blew in. “Momma? You’re dead.”
“
Copia Minor, you are confused. I am a traveler taking old Watling Street to
Londinium, and I stopped in for a few moments of solitude. I am always on one
side of the road or another.”
In
an aroused suspicion Copia asked, “How do you know my name?”
“I
know everybody’s name, child.”
A
chill rolled up Copia’s narrow spine, ‘you are Death,’ she thought. ‘Death
looks exactly my mother.’
“I
am not Death, Copia, I am yourself.”
“Am
I mad?” questioned Copia aloud; then she saw Lethargus in memory's doorway and
with a blink Grandma disappeared into the landscape like the children of all
children who unknowingly recite this little poem:
Mirror, mirror, wall of mirror
Who am I and why am I here?
I
see my body head to toe
But
where oh where is the self to know?
I
need to view self without regret
Though
I don’t know how self is quite yet,
The
mirror can’t see where I reside,
The
mirror can’t see the me inside.
***
***
(final) Diplomatic Pouch 17
©2014, rho GMG.One
Dusk, the same day. Friendly sits in a
chair at the dark walnut round table. The others quickly adjust to a seat.
Friendly looks to her immediate left and sees Blake, and Yermey sits in the
chair beyond. To Friendly's immediate right is Justin with Hartolite sitting
beyond. To Yermey's left and Hartolite's right sits Pyl who is closest to
facing Friendly directly.
"Where's
Ship?" asked Friendly, and Yermey pulled, what appeared to be a small
translucent marble, from his right trouser pocket and placed it near the center
of the table.
Blake
and the others watched as the white as paper round marble lifted slightly and
adjusted to the exact table center equidistance from the surrounding people. It
rose to the average height and size of the sitting humanoid species and took
the outer shape of a globular mirrored through electronic tricks, thought Blake
each person appears to be looking at Ship's iconic face directly.
"I
am ready, Captain Friendly," said Ship intuitively.
Friendly
spoke more formally, "Thank you. In a few minutes Ship-O-My-Mothers."
'Polite
form in flight,' reckoned Ship. He replied. "Ready when you are, Captain
Friendly, crew and honored guests."
Why
don't you call Ship 'SOMM' thought Justin, or SOMM 10, a name of some kind.
Ship is so machine-like.
Too
polite, reasoned Blake quietly. I think this may be a set up. He smiled
politely at Hartolite who returned a similar expression.
We
hardly know you people, thought Pyl. We were in casual conversation and I was
feeling good but when this Ship Machine speaks I get goose bumps on my shoulder
blades. She glanced at her husband. Look at me Justin. Help me out here.
Looking
across at Justin then scanning the table, Yermey grinned like he was
comfortably sitting in the middle of a joke. He commented, "The point of
this little production is for your entertainment, nothing more. We want you to
feel at ease on board, but perhaps we should play a game of cards or dominoes
with some refreshments."
"We can do that," continued
Friendly in an attempt to be more casual. "Then you three can get a good
night's sleep and tomorrow we can go for a short ride."
Blake's
eyes lit and excitement measured his voice. "You are going to take us
around the world as if we were in the space station. That would be awesome. I
don't even know how high we are."
"We
could be setting on the Moon as far as we know," echoed Justin and
grinned, "Where do you think we are, Pyl?"
"Good
idea," said Hartolite. "A guessing game. Where do you think we
are?"
"Each
guess, then we'll show you," laughed Friendly. "I'm sure you are all
wondering."
"This
could be like a Mission Impossible. We could be sitting in a warehouse
somewhere on Earth," said Blake.
"Or,
on the Moon," added Justin secretly hoping it was so.
"I
think we are hovering at eighty to ninety thousand feet," said Pyl. She
couldn't help smiling with the others. "Where are we Captain
Friendly?"
"Good
call," responded Friendly. "We are in Earth atmosphere at seventy
thousand feet, hovering over Cleveland, Ohio. Straight down are your local Rock
and Roll Museum and the Great Lakes Science Center."
Yermey
added, "It sounds like the two men would like a short ride with the window
shades up. We have them down because we are in Blackanot. We cannot be detected
by Earth built electronics or human sight."
"Besides,
we thought it might be disorienting to have them up," explained Hartolite.
"We would be happy to give you a short ride."
"You
already have us nearly out of the atmosphere and I never felt a thing,"
said Pyl.
"You
and Blake are experienced pilots, but Justin is not. He does not enjoy flying
like you two do," said Friendly matter-of-factly.
"Is
this true, Justin?" asked Pyl. She observed his small sheepish grin.
"It is. Why didn't you tell us?"
"I'm
fine. Friendly is right though, I do get apprehensive. I trust you and Blake but
I don't trust the plane. Things can go wrong. Planes do crash and sometimes the
reasons are not clear."
Ship
added, "You are safer up here with us than you are on your own
planet."
"Let's
go to the dark side of the moon for some sight-seeing said Friendly.
By
the time the shades were filtered for the best of human eye viewing they found
themselves silently witnessing the dark side. Smiles stood all around and no
one uttered a word.
***
2100 hours. After another hour of digging I found the poem. I think this
is the only copy I have left.
***
***
“WIZARDRY 101”
By Richard H.
Orndorff © 1978
WHAT
CAN I DO TO BECOME A WIZARD?
Nothing.
ARE
THERE ANY RITES FOR ME TO PASS?
There
is a prerequisite.
WHAT
DO I HAVE TO DO TO BECOME A WIZARD?
Nothing.
DO
YOU MEAN I CAN BECOME A WIZARD BY DOING NOTHING?
No.
Wizards are not active though.
I
DON’T HAVE TO DO ANYTHING THEN?
Wizards
wait.
WHAT
DO I WAIT FOR?
A
wizard knows.
I
DO NOT KNOW.
You
are not a wizard.
ARE
YOU A WIZARD?
At
times.
CAN
I BE A WIZARD?
Your
chance seems only one in nine.
WHAT
MUST I DO?
Look
into a mirror.
AND
SEE MY REFLECTION?
No.
I
DO NOT UNDERSTAND.
You
will when there is nothing to see.
*** ***
I
sent this poem to several small poetry publications. I don’t remember it ever
being published but it may have been. There is a cadence to this that reminds
me of my later relationship with Amorella.
You wrote another paragraph here but Word
crashed and it was not saved. How do you feel about that? – Amorella
2123
hours. I cannot think of the honest words to describe my feeling other than
anxiety that I misspoke, that I was arrogant and that (although I know better
rationally) my superstitious self says, ‘you went to far, boy. Amorella’s boss
has just intervened as she has at other times). Rationally I do not know. It is
possible there is something about Amorella that is not covered in imagination
and human reason alone. Other times Word has crashed at such opportune moments
for me to gather my wits and rethink what I was just writing. Here though, at
this point in time and in this context, the Word program crashing as it did,
quickly reminded me to know that if it is possible that I at times can stare
into the mirror and see nothing, this shows there are psychological
probabilities that though I do see myself in the mirror there is a small
probability that something unseen also present in the mirror. For lack of
better wordage I’ll call this “spookiness in the mind”.
Perhaps a better word here would be one that
people can relate to – a doppleganger. – Amorella
** **
Doppelgänger
From
Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
In fiction and
folklore, a doppelgänger or doppelganger is a paranormal double of a living person.
It also describes the
sensation of having glimpsed oneself in one's own peripheral vision with no
chance of the supposed phenomenon having been a reflection.
A doppelgänger is
often perceived as a sinister form of bilocation and is regarded by some to be
a harbinger of bad luck. In some traditions, a doppelgänger seen by a person's
relative or friend portends illness or danger while seeing one's own
doppelgänger is said to be an omen of death.
Recent scientific
experimentation has duplicated several doppelgänger effects when electrical
stimulation was applied to the left temporoparietal junction of a patient's
brain.
In contemporary
vernacular, the word doppelgänger is often used in a more general sense
to identify any person that physically ‒ or perhaps even behaviorally ‒
resembles another person without regard to the word's original paranormal
meaning, thus shifting it back to the original German meaning of look-alikes.
Spelling
The word doppelgänger
is a loanword from German Doppelgänger, consisting of the two
substantives Doppel (double) Gänger (walker or goer). The
singular and plural form are the same in German, but English usually prefers
the plural "doppelgangers."
As is true for all
other common nouns in German, the word is written with an initial capital
letter. In English, the word is conventionally uncapitalized (doppelgänger).
It is also common to drop the diacritic umlaut, writing "doppelganger."
Mythological interpretations
Although this German
word is of relatively recent origin, first appearing in English use in 1851,
the concept of alter egos and double spirits appears in the folklore, myths,
religious concepts, and traditions of many cultures throughout human history.
In Ancient Egyptian
mythology a ka was a tangible
"spirit double" having the same memories and feelings as the person
to whom the counterpart belongs. In one Egyptian myth entitled, The Greek
Princess, an Egyptian view of the Trojan War, a ka of Helen was used
to mislead Paris of Troy, helping to stop the war. . . .
In some myths, the
doppelgänger is a version of the Ankou, a Breton personification of death.
Scientific and philosophical investigations
Left temporoparietal
junction
In September 2006, it
was reported in the scientific journal, Nature,
that an effect was reproduced repeatedly that was very similar to the
doppelgänger phenomenon. The effect was produced via the electromagnetic
stimulation of one patient's brain.
Focal electrical
stimulation was applied to the patient's left temporoparietal junction while
she lay flat on a bed. The patient immediately felt the presence of another
person in her "extrapersonal space." Other than epilepsy, for which
the patient was being treated, she was psychologically fit.
The "other
person" was described by the patient as young, of indeterminate sex,
silent, motionless, and with a body posture identical to her own. The other
person was located exactly behind her, almost touching and therefore within the
bed on which the patient was lying.
A second electrical
stimulation was applied with slightly more intensity, while the patient was
sitting up with her arms folded. This time the patient felt the presence of a
"man" who had his arms wrapped around her. She described the
sensation as highly unpleasant and electrical stimulation was stopped.
Finally, with the
patient seated, electrical stimulation was applied while the patient was asked
to perform a language test with a set of flash cards. On this occasion the
patient reported the presence of a sitting person, displaced behind her, and to
the right. She said the person was attempting to interfere with the test:
"He wants to take the card; he doesn’t want me to read." Again, the
effect was disturbing and electrical stimulation was ceased.
Similar effects were
found for different positions and postures when electrical stimulation at the
left temporoparietal junction exceeded ten mA.
The paper suggested
that the left temporoparietal junction of the brain evokes the sensation of
self-image—body location, position, posture, etc. When the left temporoparietal
junction is disturbed, the sensation of self-attribution is broken and may be
replaced by the sensation of a foreign presence or a copy of oneself, displaced
nearby. This copy mirrors the real person's body posture, location, and
position.
The paper also
suggests that the phenomenon created is seen in certain mental illnesses, such
as schizophrenia, particularly when accompanied by paranoia, delusions of
persecution, and of alien control. Nevertheless, the effects reported are very
similar to the doppelgänger phenomenon. Accordingly, some reports of
doppelgängers may well be due to failure of the left temporoparietal junction.
. . .
Selected and edited from
Wikipedia
** **
2153
hours. Now, for the really spooky part. I brought up another piece of writing
from the basement but had no idea on how to bring it into play. Now I have
reason. I had forgotten that this was written (so many words set in the
basement of this house). It will take me a few moments to copy the work. It was
written in April, 2005. I had been studying the brain according to Gray’s
Anatomy and had put together my interpretation of how Amorella works within.
Afterwards, Amorella goes through the work underlining how she sees herself
within my functioning brain. It is interesting even as an aside.
*** ***
© 2005. R. H. Orndorff
Amorella as She Sees Herself Underlined
And, as I, Richard, See Her Not Underlined
7 April 05, 2130 hrs.
Amorella,
is an adult version of an imaginary childhood friend who primarily helps me
write. She is as a personification of my writing process. She works with my
materials (my brain, memory, mind, vocabulary, writing and general
communication skills). She uses my knowledge as well as my lack of knowledge as
limiting and delimiting factors in [story] content.
Amorella
is centered in a line from the base of the brain up through the top of the
frontal lobe in the left hemisphere of the brain at the language centers. She
is a line, which bends through the cerebellum, the optical thalamus, the
fornix, the septum lucidum, the corpus callosum, and the convolution of the
corpus callosum, cutting through the fissure of Sylvius at the base of the
brain which separates the frontal lobe from the temporal lobe and lodges the
middle cerebral artery. I [Amorella], exist from the language center down
through the optical thalamus to the cerebellum, that is mostly my range of
operation in process.
I
sense via intuitive unconscious pathways, freeways if you will, yet I use minor
roadways to the conscious aspects, mostly through the optic nerve. I come out
through the fingertips and come back through the optic nerve. Unconscious
to conscious, this is the usual route via the writing process.
I
am as an electric nerve pulse that operates via the anatomical nerve system.
Dreams carry nerve pulses even though they are not real. I fit in that category
of nerves. I move anywhere you will, which
you do will or allow. I am an
existential self directed thought. I touch base with the humanity
within you, but I am not humanity. I am mostly two dimensional with a one
dimensional point of focus. To me you are a three dimensional shade, and in a
sense from my perspective I am as real as you are, but not more so because I
exist within your shade, so to speak.
You
see me pretty much from the opposite perspective, yet we are connected through
the brain and mind and are conscious of ourselves separately and together,
mind-twins if you will, which you do. That is basically it. If I were to
draw an abstract representation of me I would draw a human skull. Put a photo
of a full moon in the right eye [socket] and the yellow sun in the left [eye
socket]. The opposite of what you might expect. Odd, I know, but that’s the
way I see it.
You
can print this off if you wish. You still like the circle with the single eye,
and you can stick with it, but this is my representation, and I’ll stick with
it too. – [Amorella]
***
***
2224 hours. The above took a while to type out. It is so strange reading
this again for the first time in nine years. (Ho, ho – chances are ‘one in nine’
according to the wizard responder.) Sick humor on my part, but what comes to
mind goes to print come hell or high water. Do you have any changes in what was
written above?
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