0923
hours. Thirty days hath September . . ..
You and Carol were up early. – Amorella
It bothers me that ‘you’ is almost always before Carol but that if I
were writing it would be “Carol and I” because is more grammatically correct as
well as politer. I have been conscious of this for a very long time.
First, orndorff, I am doing the writing not
you. From my perspective, being who and where I am, an outsider, I am as a
third person, in context, am I not? – Amorella
0929 hours. Yes.
As I am doing the addressing I am first
person and you and Carol are second. I am being polite addressing you as the
less awkward second person singular and Carol with her given name. What else
would you have me do, boy? – Amorella
I agree your addressing me, as Richard is awkward. The focus is on
writing concepts, ideas characters, etc. first. I put my concerns to rest.
(1052)
You and Jadah had a nap. Later, - Amorella
Late
lunch at Marx Bagels in Blue Ash. You have been working on chapter thirteen but
are not complete with it yet. Tomorrow Carol has lunch with retired teacher
friends; otherwise not much going on. – Amorella
Out of kindness to my palms I asked Tim to mow this weekend or whenever
he mows his grass again, at Carol’s suggestion. It’s arthritic weather that
doesn’t help either. (1654)
2245 hours.
I completed Chapter Thirteen and am ready to post it.
You both had a very light supper, some
snacks, and watched the news, and three television shows. You are surprised you
had the time to complete the editing of the chapter. Add and post. – Amorella
***
Chapter
13 (final) ©2014
Spice
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.
I,
Merlyn, have this little ditty above memorized to the point it sets stemmed in
letters out of which each four-leafed chapter dreams grow to clover size. I
knead the dreams into a word stream of music for the heart and soul and mind
with hope that when read, these stories cast a light into those living with an
imagination that casts no shadow.
The
Dead 13
Merlyn
thinks it a pleasure to awaken in a memory bed that is a memory of my
adolescent days in life. A few blankets across a few wooden planks attached to
four legs created from tree trunks. My pillow is a forearm in width and two
hands high. Mine is about the same. The Living need to know a few of the rules
we Dead have.
We
Dead have particular rules we attempt to follow for a general social order to
occur. For instance first, we have to realize who we really are. We also are
more ridged than you the Living might think, and if one is walking it is
helpful to walk on a path that delivers you from point A to point B. We must
conform to the way things are. These are self-evident truths the Living may
deny for a lifetime. We Dead survive for what Ends? We, like the Living, do not
know. We attempt to be socially polite and it is necessary for us to mature
while we wait.
We
Dead have a set of ethics focusing basically on the four cardinal virtues:
temperance, courage, justice and prudence. These four are woven within the
circulation of heartansoulanmind as blood was circulated throughout the body in
life. The more giving the spirit is in these four virtues the freer one is;
that is, the more transparent the spirit is, the more the spirit is as the soul
unseen but known and understood within one's humanity.
We
Dead wait, enjoying the learning, enjoying the company of others who always
remind us of who we are as we grow or do not grow – to live, as it were,
trafficking The Golden Rule within our own stuffing among the Dead, now with
the marsupial humanoids as well.
We
Dead who rose once from clay are still consciously alive and our judgments stay
our own. After all, what would a ghostly humane spirit be without free will?
"Says you," interrupts Vivian.
Merlyn
smiles knowingly, as if he were just let in on the joke, "How long have
you been here, my love?"
"As
long as necessary. Where are you going with your monologue?"
"I
lost my train of thought, my dearest.”
"You
were thinking on how much energy it took to move from Avalon to Elysium. It
nearly wore you out."
"It
wore me down to nothing and that was before I left Avalon."
"I
watched you leave."
"I
did not know that."
"Your
soul took you."
"How
do you know it was not my heart?"
"Only
your soul could move like that."
"What
did you see? A soul is what it is, a shroud, a shell protecting
heartanmind."
"That
is what we are told but I saw something different,” said Vivian. “You were
evaporating quickly, taking the form a gray pinecone and then shrinking into
the form of a brown walnut floating at navel height. I reached out and touched
the brown, which became gray again; the soul was leathery like touching the
back of an African elephant. I knew then that it was your soul because that is
how I imagine your soul to be — leathery and pinecone-like.
Merlyn
laughs aloud, "Leathery."
"Do
you remember me touching you?"
"You
are within me already. Touching would assume you were not within," replies
Merlyn earnestly.
"I
felt your leathery passion, Merlyn. I felt your soul's fuel if not your soul
itself."
"What
a strange thing to say, Vivian, that my passion is leathery."
"Like
an elephant's, thick like the skin on an elephant's back," reiterates
Vivian. She gives him a quick kiss on the cheek and say, "Bye, Merlyn,” at
which she disappears from mind to heart.
Merlyn
chuckles, and looks to his reader, "Things are like this here among the
Dead. The heart of the spiritual center comes and goes in me like thoughts of
friends among the Living. Here thoughts come across more real like close
friends do in those Living. You who are living know how that is, people show
up, you have a good time, and then they say their good-byes and are they gone
physically but not from your heart. Not much different here, except I heard
Vivian's voice as if she were standing right here. And, I felt her arm on my
back and she gave me a kiss on the cheek. I felt those lips. I will never
forget Vivian's lips and her passion. Never. No leather in her passion, I'll
tell you, smiles the contented Merlyn.
The
Brothers 13
While
sitting on the couch Robert glances at his brother’s bare feet. “You need to
trim those nails.”
Richard
peeped down, “They look fine to me. Give them another couple of weeks. Why do
you wear socks?”
“I
feel better in socks.”
“On
to the subject at hand, what have you found in your genealogy files?”
Robert
picks up the paper. “This old letter from Oxford Ancestors, it says, ‘ . . .we
cannot identify your Y-chromosome as being of Norse Viking by the criteria
outlined above. It is much more likely that your Y-chromosome has been
inherited from a paternal ancestor who belonged to one of the ancient Celtic
tribes that lived in Britain and Ireland before the Vikings arrived at the end
of the eighth century AD.’”
“Grandpa
was sure we had Viking blood in us. He always said we were related to Ragnar
the Dane,” responds Richard.
Robert
snickers, “He told me we were related to Abu Hubba, the Viking.”
Richard
pulls another file. “Well, then there is this old family name Balduh on
Grandpa’s great grandmother’s side. It sure looks Scandinavian to me. The h
was probably a hard c or a k. Balduk sure looks Germanic;
something right out of the ancient Norse sagas or Beowulf.”
Robert,
whose interest is quickly waning, adds, “Balduk could have been Baldacci
then it would appear Italian.” I would rather dissect a corpse than a language,
considers Robert, and then continues, “Well, it was the great grandmother’s
side not the great grandfather’s. The male line has always been the only one
legitimate on the British Isles, right?”
“Of
course,” cracks Richard. Both laughed sardonically. “I'm hungry. Do you want
some ice cream?”
“What
do you have, Robbie?”
“Not
here. Let’s go to the DQ or Graeter’s.”
“How
about stopping at the college bookstore first?”
“That’s
fine,” says Richard. “What are you looking for?”
My
poem,” replies Robert in a deadpan manner.
“I
need to get this Merlyn series done,” states Richard in irritation.
“Three
books. It’ll be years until you redo that trilogy.”
Richard
scratches his nose while looking for his shoes. “You work a long time, then you
retire. I like having a project or two. That is what is good about genealogy. I
can dabble in Grandpa’s notes one day then work on my book the next.” In some
ways it’s all the same thing.
“You
just like writing about our hometown,” comments Robert.
“It
is just like everyone else’s hometown. Familiar landmarks, different street and
place names. People have their uptown or downtown businesses that last a long
time, doctors, dentists and the like. Groceries or food markets that people are
familiar special areas occupying peoples’ lives. One town is as good as any
another for a setting.” Richard paused, “Where are we going again?”
“Bookstore,
then the DQ I guess, if you still want to go.”
Richard
replies quickly, “I’ll drive.”
“In
high school we used to borrow Grandpa’s VW a lot.” Robert laughs, “it had those
pop open back windows and a nearly non-existent heater.”
*
Later
the two sit, one with a small chocolate cone and the other with small
vanilla shake. Both faced north
looking at the old Riverton High School they attended in the late nineteen
fifties. Richard points, “Up there’s our old senior homeroom.”
“Yeah,
I never got in trouble in that room, but you did,” comments Robert.
“True.
I got three whacks in the principal’s office for talking. That wouldn’t happen
today.”
“We
thought we were going to be nuked by the Russians; but it hasn’t come to it,
but eventually we will be nuked by one set of terrorists or another.”
“Nuked
or plagued,” adds Richard.
“Yep.
Nuked or plagued. That’s the way it will be.”
Richard
smiles sardonically, “Not many places to hide either.”
“New
Zealand would be a good spot.”
"Yeah,"
replies Richard without much enthusiasm. His mind began running over the
characters and plot of Nevil Shute's On the Beach. He thinks, Shute
created a novel out of Eliot's words in "The Hollow Men" - “This is
the way the world ends; Not with a bang but a whimper.” - excellent graphic
tone in few words.
On
the Beach is a dark, dark novel, reflects
Richard matter-of-factly, still surprised that the world survived those Cold
War times; and the 1959 film was just as dark. The setting was 1964 and in the
black and white film no one was going to survive the radiation, not in
Australia, New Zealand, Argentina or South Africa, then the radiation moves to
the northern continents. Not one human being survives. I have no idea how we
ever make it this long into the twenty-first century without a nuclear war?
Sometimes I think we are all dead and don’t know. We carry on our lives
oblivious to the truth entangled within space and time.
Grandma's
Story 13
I
have a little story for you, notes Grandma. This narrative takes place in a
narrow area of India in the sixth century. Thar stands tall along the upper
Krishna River in the Maharashtra state in the Western Ghats mountain range. The
eight hundred mile river flows east to west across India to the Bay of Bengal.
To the far north is the Indian desert of Sahara-like sand dunes. To the Krishna
River’s far southwest coast of India in the present day Kerala state are
coastal semi-evergreen forests. This limited area of the subcontinent has the
Indian Ocean to its west and the high Western Ghats Mountain to its east.
An
elderly couple, Thin Thar and his beautiful full-bodied, long black haired
partner, Malabar sit eating some fruit on a large ash gray boulder on the south
shoreline of the Krishna. Behind them about three hundred feet is an ancient
temple dedicated to Lord Shiva. The temple has long been destroyed but it has a
near twin still standing and in use in the state of Bihar, the Mundeshwari Devi
Temple. Both towered temples were built for the worship of Lord Shiva in the
early first century. A younger couple, Goa and Comorin, come out of the
entrance to the small temple and see the backs of the couple lounging on the
rock.
An
ever so slight wind, a seeming inconsequential breeze with a flit of bliss,
accompanies Goa and Comorin on their now judicious walk to see their older
friends and to innocently ask how it is that Thar and Malabar long ago had come
to be married and to live in such a place of peace with one another.
Thar
rises and stands loincloth naked while Malabar continues sitting. In solemn
tone Thar declares as he has many times in the years before, "There will
be great floods from these mountains to our north."
With
her feet dangling in the cool water and turning her head slightly to her left
and up to see her husband's eyes looking down, Malabar grumbles, “There are
always floods, Thar," then with a twinkle in her eye, added, "And
droughts too; nevertheless, we cannot wade across the Krishna without getting
our feet wet."
Thar
turns his head having observed Goa and Comorin within a few feet of the rock.
"Hello,"
said Comorin energetically, "We thought we saw you from the Temple."
She paused as Malabar turns their way. "What's wrong? Thar stands while
you sit?"
Malabar
does not bother to stand. It is easier to look up at the three of them.
"Thar is the problem," she states matter-of-factly, "he wants to
wade across the great Krishna without getting his feet wet."
"You
need a blessing from Lord Shiva," declares Goa earnestly, "to wade
the Krishna without getting wet feet."
Attaching
to the immediate humor of the moment, and to the quick twinkling exchange
between husband and wife, Thar calmly replies, "What blessing would that
be, my young friend Goa, so that I may wade and not have to take a boat across
to keep dry?"
Perplexed
by the sudden question Goa ran his mind through the moments of meditation they
had just spent in the Temple. Goa lowers his eyes confessing, "Only as a
soul can you be liberated from the physical, Thar; thus being alive you will
have to take a boat across the river."
Malabar
smiles warmly at her two young friends, "That is just what I told him,
Goa. Thank you for clarifying this for me." She touches her husband left leg
in friendly jest and continues, "See, Thar," she looks knowingly as
any woman in her position would, "what would I do if you waded across and
I was left here alone?"
Thar stands tall scratching his head, he looks seriously at
their two young friends and then down at his wife, "Come, Malabar" he
says gently, "please stand so we four might stand together as two
couples." Thar pauses helping Malabar up. The four witnessed a sudden and
unannounced meeting of common human spirit.
Thar
is the first to realize the four are standing together in the cardinal
directions unaware. He says, "We will soon be the North and South winds
and in time you two will be the East and West. Lord Shiva speaks in such a
quick heartfelt meeting as ours and as such the four of us, beyond the smoke
and the ashes, will dance over the Earth and not a one of us will retire with
either wet feet or dry soles."
*
Old
Grandma Earth smiles; nods her head and quips, "Not everything in the
world is as loose or as tight as it seems." She continues in the calm of
the moment.
"Transcend,
transcend, without a beginning, a middle or an end
While talking among a
foresome, with a couple or a single friend."
Diplomatic
Pouch 13
Ship
analyzes all personal and public information gathered on Pyl, Justin and Blake
as well as their fine-lined DNA substructures and ongoing vital signs many
degrees beyond those presently possible or even known on Earth. With what Ship
has presently he can create a female and/or a male twin of each individual
earthling for non-rejecting fully mature and transplantable whole body or body
parts within twenty-four hours. Observations of living earthling vital stats
while anywhere on Ship are compartmentalized into Box-UsefulanMixeData.
*
After
explanations as to general safety procedures and how the control room sorted
data on Ship, the earthlings sit down in comfort at an accompanying table and
chairs in a small pushanpull bump-out room. A short break with familiar drinks
of choice and a few assorted well-known tidbits sat on a small wall shelf for
their pleasure.
Justin
asks, "I'm sure Pyl and Blake are fascinated with the overall mechanics of
operation as what you say reminds me of a flight manual. I appreciate that this
is a general review as I am somewhat overwhelmed with the size and detail.
Friendly, you mentioned that you have about a twenty thousand year head start
on us in science and technology. To carry through – what is the form of
politics and social control used on your three-planet solar system, that is,
how is society organized so that you could build and man such a ship as
this?"
Friendly
responds, "First, the point is that we are not any more intelligent than
you are. Our species developed differently for a variety of reasons even though
the physics of our planets are quite similar to your own. We can breath your
air, drink your water and eat some of your food without momentary illness. We
evolved similarly because we are from similar habitats." She pauses taking
a sip of water and relaxing with a slower pace of speech, "Think of your
family automobile and how it is built and used. It is a vehicle to take a
person, friends or family safely from point A to point B."
Blake
slightly raises his hand and interrupts, "But we have a choice as to what
vehicle we buy."
Yermey
raises his index finger and touches the slight smile forming on his lips. He
says nothing.
Friendly
continues, "We had choices too, over the millenniums, we tried many
choices but after about five thousand years of whittling down to the best
choice for us, we chose one that while not perfect, works better for us. Change
happens, just as your species has had to adapt, so do we still. Our being on
Earth is an example of this. We are here on our own because ThreePlanets is not
ready for you, not because of your lack of technology or because of your being
primates. ThreePlanets is not ready for you because you think differently than
we do."
Hartolite
nods in agreement with her comrades. "We want to show you our humanity
because we feel our basic humanity is really no different than your own."
"Perhaps
we might begin with a what do you do?" questions Pyl. “When we are
at a social mixer this is one of those questions people start with. She awaits
Justin and Blake's fuller attention. “For instance, if asked I would say I am a
career counselor at the University of Cincinnati. She glances,
"Justin?"
Her
husband smiles sheepishly, "I teach archeology at the University. I have
spent time in the field, the last time abroad I was in Israel and Egypt.
Blake
quietly adds, "I have a software company that specializes in small
electronics -- behind the scenes work in communication devices. My father
started the company many years ago. Pyl, my sister, and I own it jointly. It is
a private company."
Yermey
interrupts with, "I am a problem solver."
Hartolite
follows, "I too am a problem solver."
"Me
too," responds Friendly. "The three of us solve problems. We are
employed by Family Services, what you might call State Services."
"You
mean you counsel the poor?" asks Pyl, "It looks like you are all
pilots. You flew a ship across the galaxy. The jobs seem so unrelated to one
another."
Blake
looks to his fellow earthlings and quips, "Maybe we are the poor these
people are counseling."
Yermey
sits delighted thinking Blake's humor quick and excellent; yet in the moment he
finds himself unsure.
Meanwhile
Ship realizes humor and storytelling might be the best path for these two
humane species to develop a lasting common trust. Everyone likes to be
entertained, thinks Ship, even me.
***
