Mid-morning.
You are at Pine Hill Lakes by the earth dam waiting for Carol who is on her
walk. You raked the southwest quad and may touch up the front. Carol has been
cleaning windows and most are up to let in the cooler breeze. It is a very
pleasant Spring day. Let’s continue chapter twenty-one. – Amorella
0959 hours. I’m ready but wondering how this is going to be,
particularly tone wise.
1240
hours. I have worked on this off and on. Here is my first sample – the segment
of The Dead.
***
Chapter Twenty-one
Translucence
This
is the Supervisor, Caretaker of the
Dead. These books cause a transmigration of words from the Dead into those
reading within Dreamtime. The enlightenment occurs in the deconstruction of
entanglement within spiritual thought. The Humanity, the Light, untangles many
spiritual dimensions of mind to a singular focus: reasonable thought.
The
Dead - 21 – 780 w
Some events are built in. The Lightning
that becomes the Beginning of All Things continues through these Merlyn books.
The Thunder follows naturally. – the Supervisor
Merlyn
rolls his spectral eyes up and back into his spectral head only to discover he
is about to have a discussion with Glevema and Panagiotakis, here in his own
sanctuary.
Within
the doorway to his hut Merlyn envisions his oak billiard table rising from the central
stone boulder just as he had risen from his stony sleep of the Dead. Merlyn
moves slowly upward, gaining confidence. He glances down from the height of the
giant oak to the billiard table below to see two balls on the green with an oak
cue stick lying on the table near the white cue ball mark, and on the other cue
mark sets the black 8 ball.
Merlyn
spirit blinks registering, I am the stick, Takis is the white cue ball and
Mother is the black 8. The spirit, the great ghost, observes the pockets shift-in-meaning.
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.
I
can only hope to drive Mother into heart's pocket for her truthfully honest
response to my question.
Chance
is not always what it seems – all roads lead to multiple place settings. – the Supervisor
Semi-conscious, Merlyn strikes the cue ball with the stick,
which, as the physics-in-his-head would have it, taps the 8 ball further and
harder to the left than he anticipated.
The
white ball almost scratches at the far corner pocket and in Merlyn's mind the 8
ball rolls to the left corner pocket and drops in. 'Not good,' concludes
Merlyn, 'A faery's trick.' strikes at his heart.
Merlyn no more believes in faery tricks
than he does in Angels. He laments this freedom without choice – the Supervisor
"I
should have let the Takis cue ball randomly run the table,” grumbles Merlyn. The
Victorian styled oak billiard table folds through mist and into the sanctuary’s
central stone bolder. Merlyn stands with Mother three arm's length away, boldly
staring.
Mother
asks, "Do you think I did not see through your tactics of using my
grandfather to soften my soul?"
"I
was aiming at your heart, dear Mother of all mothers. I see I missed my mark.
“Why now, dear Mother, for the Second Rebellion?”
The
soul tends to show an armor of indifference, thinks Mother while considering a
response to Merlyn's initial question. "Nuclear weaponry," declares
Mother, and all those dead from murdering in political and religious conflicts
and two major wars during the first half of the twentieth century.”
She
continues, “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. They were the turning point.”
So, you see, some events take place because
of the heartsansoulsanminds of others beyond the scope of most of the Living
who think, like those who did not recognise even friendly bacteria, that if you
don’t see or detect something it doesn’t exist and thus can have no effect on
the living. – the Supervisor
"The
Living do not know about the marsupial humanoids other than my fictional
stories, Mother."
"You
were sorted out, Merlyn. I assume you are up to the job," replies Mother
rather huffily. "Once the marsupial humanoids actually landed on Earth and
tragically died in secret attempt to present themselves in July, 1947; their
species’ Dead decided it was time to re-introduce themselves to Mother’s
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; work alone
cannot make you free." She pauses for understanding, and adds
"Merlyn, how would we many Dead grow and flourish under such heartless
conditions of power and consequence?
Free
or not a reckoning will come, ruminates Merlyn, as surely as I, one of
the Dead,
walk. The Second Rebellion ended while I have been Here, in two places at once, among
the
Living and among the Dead. I, Merlyn, do not know how or why this came to be.
But who
really knows the why's of any thing. Freedom, what is freedom without
the fullness of
humanity in one's heartansoulanmind?
***
You
are enjoying the weather and happy to have completed one segment. However, I
see you are uneasy about how this will play because although you mentioned the
wars of the last century you did not mention the need for a healthy and
fulfilling childhood into a mature growth of adult humanity for the good of
humanity. – Amorella
1316 hours. That’s because it has been attempted before
without the result intended. You can’t preach. Even Jesus preached and in two
thousand years we are better in terms of knowledge and science but
heartsansoulsanminds listen to a different order if they listen at all. At the
moment I think of each as a kitten, stubborn and independent and wanting what
sheorhe wants. I would rather think of the heart and soul and mind as cats than
dogs, doing whatever their master’s bidding or following the pack.
You raise something that needs addressed. We’ll
do that in “The Brothers” segment. Later, dude. Post. - Amorella
"We got you two the
cream-filled Schneider’s doughnuts you like," comments Connie.
1615 hours. I completed “The Brothers – 21”.
By all means, drop it in and post. –
Amorella
***
The
Brothers 21 – 732 w
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 likes this corner because he can see a slice of his
favorite boyhood places, the weathered State Movie Theatre marquee across
street. Robert has never been a movie fan, fancies Richard.
Genetics and robotics are necessary as well
as compatible in basic survival. Both come at a price, survival. The species’
survival is little different than the individual’s survival in these Merlyn
books. The physical is more easily recognized than the spiritual; both have
their merits and their cancers. A
domesticated cat’s priorities on survival have a different focus than a
domesticated dog’s. Human beings are neither cats nor dogs. Looking in the
mirror most people can sense of the differences in the three species, don’t you
think? – the Supervisor
Interrupting
from his own focus on the old State marquee, Rob taps his brother's shoulder,
and replies, "Talking and thinking are two different things. I have a new
poem Dickie,” and he pulls it out of his back pocket. “It is about Lillian Gish
the movie star. The poem is about her unforgettable faces on film. She died in
1993, Dickie." He points to the paper, "read this first. We can meet
the girls at the empty table across the street."
Richard
reads,
*
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.
•
and
replies after critiquing carefully. "This poem shows a most basic form of
consciousness. I like the existential tone.” Richard acknowledges, “I am
thinking on minimal consciousness, if there is such an animal.”
"We
hope no less in the operating room," chuckles Rob, then thinking
literally, he says, "If a minimally conscious animal is what you want, you
want a jellyfish,"
Richard smiles, "Here come the
girls from the bakery. I'm ready for coffee with cream and a cream-filled
doughnut."
The
most basic form of spiritual consciousness is human consciousness,
reflects Richard quietly. Let's say minimal consciousness is a quantum state.
The classical bit is stored as a one or a
zero but a quantum bit is stored as a zero
and a one event at the same time. The event is in two places at once. This
is similar to the condition of Schrödinger's
Cat in quantum mechanics, continues Richard. This spiritual consciousness both
exists and does not exist at the same time. This then is the grammar in the
heartansoulanmind, it is not necessarily words in a linear string; it may
always be between the lines. If the heartansoulanmind functions between the lines, how can this be so?
People
ask themselves quiet questions from time to time as if each question continues
in present tense as if there is no consideration in the thought setting for a
past or future. A true question, like a true statement, can stand on its own. Life’s
distractions do not get in the way because they are not noted where it counts
most in the mind and in a place close to the heart where zero’s and one’s count
little, if at all. – the Supervisor
***
1845
hours. I can putter around for hours and this is what I have been doing. It
took me awhile but I think ‘the Supervisor’ is very much like ‘the Soki’ in
tone and style is in the first three books. This shows a particular consistency
that I am relieved to see.
Consistency is important because it gives
one a credibility. – Amorella
1852 hours. You are the brush and the brush stroke. Thank
you, Amorella.
It would have helped had you not had to look
up the Soki’s name in book one. – Amorella
1854 hours. I feel bad about this. At Smashburgers for lunch
the girl at the register asked my name and I had to think on it because I was
not expecting the question. Finally in frustration (and probably embarrassment)
Carol said, “Rich.” At that moment it still had not registered and I thought,
‘Yeah, that’s about right’ (in the pause) - then, I said, “Rich.” Carol laughed
about this at various times throughout lunch. She asked, “What were you
thinking?” and the like. Actually, it was a shock. It didn’t dawn on me. Why she
was asking me my name? I didn’t know who she was.
That pretty much concludes how it is in your
head, and how it has been from time to time since you gained a self-consciousness,
somewhere around the age of three. That’s how I see it. – Amorella
1904 hours. How I have survived so long I have no idea.
Let’s work on ‘Grandma’s Story’ – wait, here
comes Carol from her reading – time for supper. Post. - Amorella
2155
hours. I have completed Grandma’s Story.
Add and post, boy. All for tonight. –
Amorella
***
Grandma's
Story 21 - 737 w
Once
in Scotland Criteria and Renaldo are delighted to find Merlyn has chosen to
lead themto a mostly unobserved grassy path where they walk the horses through
an awkward quietness for most of the afternoon. As they come upon a rise Merlyn
says, "This travel has been for the comfort of Lady Criteria. We are about
to enter the grounds where I have royal guests.
Ever
so politely Criteria asks, "How did you guess my royalty early on,
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,” declares Criteria in a flirtatious
mood.
“I
set my dialect to match your own m’Lady, it is my stock and trade.”
In
undisguised resentment Renaldo interrupts, “Remember we are here Merlyn, on
behalf of Rome to transcribe and collect stories for the Bishop.”
"I
am not one for those with titles, Renaldo," quips Merlyn. "My
interest here is building blood and stories. 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 responds, "My uncle is a King in Greece. However, my work
is also common within the Church of Rome. These three Ladies will provoke a lot
of interest."
"Royal
blood rises or falls together," comments Merlyn directly. Shortly we will
be done with this, he thinks.
What Merlyn thinks is not what is always or
even nearly so. Many thoughts of people are off the top of the head, so to
speak, not down closer to the powers of reasoning for purposes presently
unknown. Merlyn makes considerations and deduces imaginary consequences to add
to the reasonable ones in case of error. Logic and reason are not magic but
they are better than superstition alone, so thinks Merlyn. – the Supervisor
Should
I begin with Holy Island or Merlyn, thinks Criteria with Merlyn and Renaldo at
her side upon approaching the three women of Avallon. Queen, Igraine, smiling,
extends her hand and in kindly tone says, "I am glad Merlyn invited you,
Prince Criterion of Greece."
Having
forgot who she really was, Criteria stood momentarily startled.
"Please
meet my sisters,” adds Igraine, “Morgause and Viviane."
"Did
you ever meet the Bishop of Rome, himself, Prince Criterion?" questions
Morgause.
Criteria
shows the sisters her signatory ring, "I am sure in ways unknown that we
are cousins, 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 and now
Merlyn, of course."
Upon
the further introduction Queen Igraine modestly whispers though all nearby ears
hear, "Your secret is frozen within us. What secret is in this man-form
you take that you the woman now know?"
*
First,
laughter, then the quiet talk, concluded Merlyn as the women’s chatting
meanders into the great house for further discussion which leads to the
following.
“You
work openly within Columba’s league,” suggests Criteria.
“We
are Greek also,” replies Igraine to her younger sister, “Our line flows from
Abraham and Sarah up through Paris, son of Priam of Troy on, up through the
Franks.”
“I
know you have Greek blood through your ancestor, Princess Argotta,” notes
Criteria. “Indeed, we are no doubt cousins, but the Church has heard rumor that
you have another notable bloodline – Joseph of
Arimathea. I am sure there is a story in this.”
In
response Morgause whispers, “James, the brother of Jesus, or so we have been
told."
Queen
Igraine coldly eyes Merlyn and sarcastically responds, “We use the Dead as they
use us."
Criteria
says, “Merlyn told me he has a plan.”
Upon
entering the scene once again Vivian laughs, “Merlyn always has a plan.” “He
thinks the spirits will be here when he tells his story.”
Criteria
reflects a mute surprise, saying, “Merlyn didn’t tell us he has a story to
tell.”
*
Later,
standing as slowly moving stone in front of the small audience, Merlyn with his
prophetic eyes rolling into the top of his head, utters an unscheduled
prescient of words he could not, in those days of life otherwise come to
whisper, as a life-in-death, in letters alone.
In these books
Grandma shows the gift of gab,
From Merlyn’s
crystals to send this private confab;
The Dead speak short;
the Dead speak true,
This fiction, my
earthy children, is set on you.
***
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