Carol
is getting ready to walk and beyond that are errands and chores.
1005 hours. Too much sun for me but
perhaps I will take a short walk through the park’s north woods as most of the
leaves are out. Usually they all are by this time, but not this year. I do want
to complete chapter fifteen before tomorrow though I should have some time to
work after lunch with Fritz and before the class supper. I had a note or so
from Sandy yesterday. I always look forward to seeing my old friend from fourth
grade who was my first friend who was a girl. She reminds me so much of her
mother with whom I was also in love with in those years and into high school. Love
and friendship go hand in hand and they don’t go away.
We have talked about respect but not love
because you think it is not first in your heart. But we both know better, don’t
we boy? – Amorella
1015 hours. I was spiritually tested
only to find, much to my surprise as an agnostic, that I love the concept of G---D more than
people and things of this world. Very strange, but I was my own witness. I can
never deny it. – rho
1021 hours. My heart is empty of words.
1039
hours. We are at Pine Hill Lakes Park. I am beginning final work on Dead 15.
You are home. The next chore, getting
groceries. But, here, you need present the refreshed Dead Fifteen based solely
on the circumstances of memory refreshed this morning. – Amorella
** **
The Dead 15 (revised)
Merlyn
has the taste of non-existent honey and sunflower seeds still on his
nonexistent tongue as he glances up to see the mid-morning sun. At his feet he
is in a layer of fog about a foot from the stream in his sanctuary. He turns to
the right and walks northeast away from the water with the sun behind him. I
walk on out passed the great Oak and the ancient theatre ruin towards the great
granite boulder, more than half a grand Scottish Highland hill high in my
estimation. In life I used to love walking the Scottish hills and woods
enjoying the nature of sounds along the path, thought Merlyn. The further from
the stream he walked the more a silence filled his mind and dissipated into the
cool sunlight of his spirit, his heartansoulanmind.
A
lone billiard ball in the mind lies centered on the table’s far cue point. The
cue ball sits on the nearer cue mark as Merlyn watches from the near end of the
reduced green on table due to the newly acquiring dense fog. "What ball is
this?" mumbles Merlyn aloud. He comfortably sits down on a nearby stump in
his head, the closed to the high granite hill of his sanctuary. "Hill
between me and the Living," he grumbles, while talking between himself and
an important memory: G—D.
Merlyn
squints his eyes, sifting through the now layering white mist and the ball
centered on the far side of the table. He whispers as if hunting, "Who
might that be a-calling from my heart, a solid red 7 ball?”
"It
is but a first memory, Merlyn, no one is here," says a woman's voice though
he fully understands it is his own. She continues quietly and assuredly,
"The fog tapped the memory forward."
Merlyn's
voice proceeds, "I see an almost perfectly round deep red, beautifully
polished granite ball with a circular ivory inlay and a glossy black onyx
number ‘7’ centered and embedded within the ivory."
Memory
speaks automatically understanding the present connection with past sitting in
the present and future at once. The soul coils the transmission, the heart
generates the energy and the mind is as nothing that nothing can be. Memory's
silent picture - sharp and detailed - viewed a full eclipse of the sun.
"I
stand on solid ground and from between the boughs of an Oak and Birch,” says
Merlyn. “my eyes see the flame on the pond. No, the flame is from the water.
Fire and water. Slowly, so slowly my widened eyes and beating heart strain for
the fire's lengthening blade of silent flames to provide an upward thrust into
the invisible side of nature's air. The spritely mix of orange, yellow, and red
flame with a flash or two of white the surrounding air glowed an eerie green
when rose the handle as yellow as the sun. The hand shows its natural clasp in
the surreal object making me think the white skin is ice itself. Frozen it is
and clasped to the sun, without a hint of power. And quiet freezes my soul on
the spot. The eye accepts something anthropomorphic and akin to itself — it is
made visible only a short distance away — visible but yet I see nothing. And,
as I draw closer the calm waters edge of surrounding trees and foliage takes on
the imagery of dark gray lashes, such as those surrounding the single eye that
does not blink red and neither do I. Yet, I see nothing.”
“In
all these things I, Merlyn, did most unnaturally observe, in the minute and
whole of this singular event, my wonderfully fine eyes witnessed a focus on the
most natural thing I have ever seen since before my birth — a slim, white hand,
appears within the eye, a human hand more delicately feminine than my own, I
see this at once a powerless woman's hand rising as a goddesses’ holding sun,
water, a thin fire pillar in multitudes of colors all in an earthy
imagination.”
“Its
owner is not a goddess, in fact and description, but rather, than what I once
thought as G—D invisible, is but a naked human soul existing outright and in
place with no need of anything but the potential of being flesh and blood. Such
is my heart and soul and mind so re-conditioned on that day. The bone of the
soul I will never see as the others might solely due to circumstance. The
mightiest of swords ever held or touched by human hands holds no power
whatsoever; yet King Arthur along with the populace thought that it did. And,
in the end, the king and his country tried to re-make the sword like human beings
try to re-making love and the purest of gold, into something which they are
not. For, to me, Merlyn, love is invisible like the thought of G—D is —
matter-less and far Beyond even the thought of the Beginning of Things in space
and time. Love, like the concept of G—D, can be sorely misused. I need be ever
cautious no matter what my present circumstance is existing between the Living
and the Dead.
** **
1133
hours. I would never bring such a real seeming self-witnessed event into play
Amorella.
What is, boy, is. Live with the knowledge
you are free within the deepest of your being. – Amorella
I do not know what this means.
Post. – Amorella
You added “concept of” to G---D to the
fourth paragraph above due to the conflict with being an agnostic. – Amorella
1339 hours. I didn’t know what else to
do.
I know that, boy. – Amorella
You
had lunch at Panera/Chipotle and you have stops at Target, Home Depot and
Kroger’s before heading home. - Amorella
2031 hours. Carol has gone to the
store for a veggie for the soup she is making for Mary Lou, who has been under
the weather. I finished Chapter Fifteen. It is better, but I have to work on
sprinkling the vocabulary. I can’t do everything at once.
You do not have to sell these works
orndorff. It is like the first three books. Offering them to the public more
formally in an ebook format is all you are doing. Once the books are out there
one at a time, you will do what you did with the first ones, mostly forget
about them and move on to something else. Don’t you think this is the case? –
Amorella
2038 hours. Based on my past
experience with the first three Merlyn books you are right. I can’t remember
much about Chapter Fifteen right now. If someone would ask me a detail, no
doubt I would have to look it up to be sure. I do this, sometimes with the simplest
of words in the blog all the time. I have to re-read the definitions.
Drop in Chapter Fifteen and post. All for
tonight, boy. – Amorella
I am ready for a break.
***
Chapter 15
Relations
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 15
Merlyn
has the taste of non-existent honey and sunflower seeds still on his
nonexistent tongue as he glances up to see the mid-morning sun. At his feet he
is in a layer of fog about a foot from the stream in his sanctuary. He turns to
the right and walks northeast away from the water with the sun behind him. I
walk on out passed the great Oak and the ancient theatre ruin towards the great
granite boulder, more than half a grand Scottish Highland hill high in my
estimation. In life I used to love walking the Scottish hills and woods
enjoying the nature of sounds along the path, thought Merlyn. The further from
the stream he walked the more a silence filled his mind and dissipated into the
cool sunlight of his spirit, his heartansoulanmind.
A
lone billiard ball in the mind lies centered on the table’s far cue point. The
cue ball sits on the nearer cue mark as Merlyn watches from the near end of the
reduced green on table due to the newly acquiring dense fog. "What ball is
this?" mumbles Merlyn aloud. He comfortably sits down on a nearby stump in
his head, the closed to the high granite hill of his sanctuary. "Hill
between me and the Living," he grumbles, while talking between himself and
an important memory: G—D.
Merlyn
squints his eyes, sifting through the now layering white mist and the ball
centered on the far side of the table. He whispers as if hunting, "Who
might that be a-calling from my heart, a solid red 7 ball?”
"It
is but a first memory, Merlyn, no one is here," says a woman's voice
though he fully understands it is his own. She continues quietly and assuredly,
"The fog tapped the memory forward."
Merlyn's
voice proceeds, "I see an almost perfectly round deep red, beautifully
polished granite ball with a circular ivory inlay and a glossy black onyx
number ‘7’ centered and embedded within the ivory."
Memory
speaks automatically understanding the present connection with past sitting in
the present and future at once. The soul coils the transmission, the heart
generates the energy and the mind is as nothing that nothing can be. Memory's
silent picture - sharp and detailed - viewed a full eclipse of the sun.
"I
stand on solid ground and from between the boughs of an Oak and Birch,” says
Merlyn. “my eyes see the flame on the pond. No, the flame is from the water.
Fire and water. Slowly, so slowly my widened eyes and beating heart strain for
the fire's lengthening blade of silent flames to provide an upward thrust into
the invisible side of nature's air. The spritely mix of orange, yellow, and red
flame with a flash or two of white the surrounding air glowed an eerie green
when rose the handle as yellow as the sun. The hand shows its natural clasp in
the surreal object making me think the white skin is ice itself. Frozen it is
and clasped to the sun, without a hint of power. And quiet freezes my soul on
the spot. The eye accepts something anthropomorphic and akin to itself — it is
made visible only a short distance away — visible but yet I see nothing. And,
as I draw closer the calm waters edge of surrounding trees and foliage takes on
the imagery of dark gray lashes, such as those surrounding the single eye that
does not blink red and neither do I. Yet, I see nothing.”
“In
all these things I, Merlyn, did most unnaturally observe, in the minute and whole
of this singular event, my wonderfully fine eyes witnessed a focus on the most
natural thing I have ever seen since before my birth — a slim, white hand,
appears within the eye, a human hand more delicately feminine than my own, I
see this at once a powerless woman's hand rising as a goddesses’ holding sun,
water, a thin fire pillar in multitudes of colors all in an earthy
imagination.”
“Its
owner is not a goddess, in fact and description, but rather, than what I once
thought as G—D invisible, is but a naked human soul existing outright and in
place with no need of anything but the potential of being flesh and blood. Such
is my heart and soul and mind so re-conditioned on that day. The bone of the
soul I will never see as the others might solely due to circumstance. The
mightiest of swords ever held or touched by human hands holds no power
whatsoever; yet King Arthur along with the populace thought that it did. And,
in the end, the king and his country tried to re-make the sword like human
beings try to re-making love and the purest of gold, into something which they
are not. For, to me, Merlyn, love is invisible like the thought of G—D is —
matter-less and far Beyond even the thought of the Beginning of Things in space
and time. Love, like the concept of G—D, can be sorely misused. I need be ever
cautious no matter what my present circumstance is between the Living and the
Dead.
The Brothers 15
Robert
and Richard walk from the hardware store at the south end of town and take a
late morning drive following road through woods, farms, corn fields and cow
pastures interspersed with new crops of housing divisions. Interrupting near
silence of the car. Robert asks, “What were we talking about early yesterday?”
“Proving
the heart and soul exist.
“Yeah,”
agrees Robert. “What did we decide?”
“The
heart is more easily provable by circumstantial evidence.”
“That’s
right.” responds Robert, “circumstantial evidence. We don’t define it though.”
“Well,
whatever the center of emotions and passions is we call the heart,” notes
Richard. It’s not that difficult.”
“So,
we have hearts, but souls are less concrete, that is there is less
circumstantial evidence for having a soul,” says Robert.
“We
are both agnostics but there is a chance consciousness survives physical
death.”
“Not
very good odds though, I don’t believe.”
“What
about saying the heart survives death, questions Richard. “There is anecdotal
evidence. In many ghost stories the spirit appears to be out of sorts. Many
would be ghost stories there is a haunting. Even the idea gives some people
goosebumps.”
“But
there are other stories,” responds Robert, “mostly private family stories, that
tell of a family member coming back just to say good-bye. As well as stories of
near death experiences on the operating table.”
“Wishful
thinking pumped by grief or shock, that’s what I think Who’s to say?” snaps
Richard. “The person who tells the story usually is comforted by such a
psychological event. And who is going to question the story outright if grandma
or grandpa are the one’s telling it. It would be very impolite to do so, and
what good would come from it since no one knows the truth?”
After
ten some wordless minutes Robert says, “It’s time to head back." And in
their quietest twin natures they drove Connie's classic home.
*
At
home Connie, Cyndi, Robert and Richard were sitting at the kitchen table
drinking bottled and flavored diet ice tea and munching from a medium sized
common stainless steel mixing bowl more than half full of assorted finger sized
carrot and celery sticks with a few ice cubes thrown in for residual crispness.
Robert
began, "Richie and I were discussing how the world will survive this
relatively new century and the question came up, 'Are women naturally better
leaders for these days and times than men?'
Cyndi's
eyes narrowed slightly, "So, Richard, what did you say to Robbie's
question?"
Knowing
they hadn’t brought this up at all, Richard shrugged his shoulders in
resignation, "I said it would be better if we brought this up with you
two."
Connie
quickly responded, "First, we two get along with each other better than
you two."
"You
two maybe, but I've seen a couple of down and out cat fights in my time,"
declared Richard.
"Leaders
are strong decisive individuals though, in the operating room . . ."
"We
are talking about political leaders, Rob, where people have to work together
more socially."
"Like
Congress and the White House," added Connie. "You know, with the
majorities of men in both camps.
"Men
run empires. Look at history. Where are all the women emperors . . ."
"All
this bickering," declared Robert softly. "Of the four of us who are
the more reasonable day in and day out?"
Connie
snapped her reply, "Cyndi and I. What a stupid question, Robert. Who runs
the houses, who does the chores, which of us are more mature and responsible in
our day to day living?"
"Which
two of us have always been more responsible on the home front, day in and day
out?"
Quiet
reigned.
Robert
was about to say, "What are we having for lunch?" He didn't, but a
sheepish smile perked slightly.
"Why
don't we go out to lunch?" suggested Cyndi politely.
"Good
idea,” responded Rob, “where do you want to go?"
"I
don't know. Where do you want to go?"
"Somehow
this conversation sounds very familiar," commented Richard.
"Let's
sit silently until we can come to an agreement,” stated Connie.
So
they did.
Grandma’s Story 15
Old
Grandma has a Mayan love story. Time is one of the major characters off stage,
just like real life. Timing is everything. Solstice was and is important in
Maya observances of Earth because of Zenial passage observations that are
possible only in the tropical zones. This story takes place approximately
twenty one hundred years ago when the dark rift in the Milky Way was some
thirty degrees above the dawning winter solstice sun.
'Twenty-one
hundred years ago, disguising as an old woman walking in Central America I spy
two people making love under the broad-leafed bushes and a cacao tree near both
their homes.'
Grandma
shakes her head, 'the physical passion people put up with. People don’t
normally know Grandma takes a peek every now and then when the intensity has
built up like it has with these two. I am also in humanity’s most naked nature.
People like to imagine being alone or with an intimate companion or two in
private.' Not so, Nature always takes a front seat.
Grandma
looks to the reader, 'you can be private with your nature, honey-child, but you
is never alone with your body. Heartansoulanmind, the invisible world of the
human spirit, is always with you.
Grandma
continues, 'Love puts the body to more work than it is sometimes used to.
People get exhausted being in love. Some would just rather die happy in bed I
guess. That is the way it is for Tapachula, who is hotter than a summer storm
and Izapa who is normally cold and pyramidal-like except when he is with his
Tapachula. She heats up and he cools down. He heats up and she cools down.
These two were a weather in wildness. You just never can tell how it is going
to be from one minute to the next. A low pressure hits a high and something is
going to move. Since one is usually high when the other is low, someone is
always jiggling the other. One morning after the two had been at it several
times, trying to get the timing right, and something unforeseen arises — basic
competition. These human bodies suddenly take on a challenge of physical
endurance.
What
a way to go. Who is going to die of exhaustion first? Tapachula’s brain is
reasoning, ‘Impending doom, a natural disaster is upon us I can just feel it. I
can outlast this man, and if I can’t I’ll have to hand it to him to find a way
to do me in first. I already have a plan if I outlive my Izapa. I will bed the
first one that comes down the road until one of us dies and will keep doing so
until I’m done in. What a way to go. What a way to go. What-a-way, what-a-way,
what-a-way to go.
*
Tapachula's
logic is not completely consistent, but logic is something you might bed on but
not sleep with. That is when I, Grandma, decided to step up from the body
physics to the mindanheart for a change of pace.
From
deep within Tapachula's mindanheart Grandma whispers as consciousness might,
“No prophecy is really true, child. No matter what any one or one thousand
human beings utter it. Human beings can neither know their own nor their
world's future, but they can learn to understand the logic.”
*
As
Tapachula and Izapa's bodies clasped tight in a holy-like climax, Grandma hears
them both think in unison: "This natural disaster is built into me
too, Grandma. What should we do?”
“Remember
what and who you really are so you can balance the beam,” suggestes Grandma.
What
are the beam and the balance?" ask Izapa and Tapachula.
“The
beam is in your intelligence,” answers Grandma. “And the balance is in your
wisdom.” And with that, the once old woman with the walking stick disappears in
the expended passions of the lovers' bodily perspiring fervor.
Arms
and legs in loosening entanglement, Tapachula and Izapa blinked and together
say aloud, “We are in an enchantment.”
The sweetness in
their minds leaves but a lingering thought,
Of what the world may
become and what has been wrought.
Diplomatic Pouch 15
In
private apartments aboard Ship the six have divided into pairs and are in their
respective rooms. First, we listen in on Friendly and Blake's conversation.
Diplomatic Pouch 16 resumes with Hartolite and Justin; and, the Diplomatic
Pouch segment 17 proceeds with Pyl and Yermey.
"What
are you rubbing in your hand, if I may ask?"
Caught
off guard Blake responds by opening his left hand. He stands slightly
embarrassed. "Oh, this? It was a gift from my father. He was a hunter.
This is supposed to go on a key chain but I keep it for good luck -- like a
rabbit's foot. Here.” He hands it to her.
Friendly
hold and feels the smoothness of the claw, thinking, this is like a ThreePlanet
primate's fingernail. "What animal is this from?"
"A
bear. Dad killed the bear in the Canadian Rockies about twenty years ago. He
had a silver clasp and hook made to hold the claw so it could be used as a key
chain." Blake continues, "It is not the kind of luck you use for
navigation on Ship, I am sure."
"Luck.
Dr. Blake, sometimes luck is all we have."
Blake
Williams was surprised by how much instant relief this comment brought. He
responds positively, "Luck is something I am glad we share."
Friendly
dryly says, "Good luck is better."
Blake
laughs and shakes his head asking, "I am interested in where Ship's
electronic luck is located?"
"Here,
have a seat," says Friendly. "The technology is packed in the floor
and wall like you pack insulation, but Ship's navigationanpower is built into
the outer shell much like muscle and nerves. There are safety redundancies of
course."
Seated
and relaxed Blake asks, "How many redundancies?"
"Nine."
“There
are nine safety redundancies in everything; very impressive."
"All
are interconnected with lifesaving apparatus for every individual on
board." She pauses, "with you three given priority."
Blake
is silent for a moment. He wasn't sure what if any words should be said. He
quietly replies, "Thank you."
"Our
culture is built on being polite even when it is not necessarily
expedient." Looking poker-faced, Friendly adds, "You may take this as
a weakness."
Blake
breaks into laughter, "The thought had not yet come up." He then
solemnly responds, "You don't want to stay on this planet. This is a very
dangerous place — very, very dangerous."
Friendly
comments with resolve, "We feel you three are not a threat."
Again,
relief hits Blake. He feels immediately relief and realizes how very fortunate
he is to be alive and to be with two other fellow human beings he loves very
much. He unconsciously wipes his right eye and in his quietest polite manner
says, "Thank you, most kindly."
"You have more questions, Dr. Blake."
"Yes,
but call me Blake Williams, please. It is more informal. This is a more
personal question."
Friendly
smiles, "Yes, Dr. Williams. I was attempting to be more informal myself. I
have read that some of your doctors try to relax their patients by having them
call them Dr. and then their first name; but I thought Dr. Blake might still
sound to formal and thus, 'Mr. Blake' because 'Blake' alone would be impolite
as we have just met as we are."
“None
of us are medical doctors.” He looks at her eyes from a slant and understands.
He says, “you feel bad about your
clever ruse with us early on."
“Yes.”
She lowers her guard. “We could not decide what to do. We came here to meet
with Earthlings but who to meet with first?"
"With
all the great leaders in our world, leaders in all the nations; surely you
could have done better than us. We are not leaders."
"But
you are a family of adults."
Blake
smiled warmly responding with, "We are not always adult-minded."
"Neither
are we. Both of our species are playful when we feel at ease."
Both
fall into a relaxed common quiet for a moment. Friendly speaks, "Ship
decided you three were fine for the purposes of our first meeting." She
hesitates, "Would you like to know my last name?"
Blake’s
eyes lighten, ”I didn't know you had one. Yes, of course."
“Lakenladybytherightstreamanfork."
She laughs, "That's a translation. Here it is in sound Marsupialese --
QUANdomIX."
"Friendly
Quandomix."
"Friendly
would be Ar."
"Ar
Quandomix."
“Yes,”
She smiles with satisfaction. “It is strange hearing you speak in a
Marsupialese voice."
Blake
comments, "I would like to know more about you and your friends?"
Friendly
shakes her head slightly as if in surprise, ”What about Ship?”
"Ship too, but people first."
***
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