Last night in the bath you came up with
regurgitated concepts that don’t really go anywhere. The spiritual leads to the
physical and the physical returns to the spiritual with added perspective as if
this is what life is all about. – Amorella
0904 hours. You are right. That is no
doubt what I was thinking but I didn’t realize it at the time; arrogance on my
part even though it was unconscious. Another lesson. Why would I even think,
unconsciously or not, that I had in my head a philosophy incorporating what
life is all about? I know better. Self-deception; what is the intent? Sometimes
a cigar is just a cigar. I need a nap.
You are over at Pine Hill Lakes Park sitting
in the shade waiting for Carol to complete her walk. Let’s work on Dead Four. –
Amorella
1018 hours. I completed Dead 4 and
have the stats for chapters three and four of book two.
** **
Ch. 3 – Leafing
Words - 2836 (due to chess notations)*
Sentences – 179 *
Words per Sentence – 14.0 *
Sentences/Paragraph – 2.6
Passive Sentences – 1%
Flesh Reading Ease - 100.0
Flesh-Kincaid
Grade Level – 1.5
Ch. 4 – Reasonable Wonder
Words - 789
Sentences - 63
Words per Sentence – 12.4
Sentences/Paragraph – 2.4
Passive Sentences – 4%
Flesh Reading Ease - 100.0
Flesh-Kincaid
Grade Level – 0.8
** **
You drove Carol home for a large trash bag.
She found piles of cans a group must have left and she is cleaning them up
before the rains as they were close to bank. Now you are back, parked facing
east in the shade up by the earthen dam. – Amorella
1045 hours. Glad to have this
completed. Now I have to put chapter four together for posting.
*** ***
FOUR © 2014 rho GMG.Two
Reasonable
Wonder
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.
The Dead 4
“Did
you have trouble finding this place Merlyn?” asks Socrates.
“I
came from Mother Glevema’s private sanctuary to Eleusis Street at the northwest
corner of Lyceum. So this is the place where the first Rebellion began, The
Mikroikia. I suppose Aranos is still present.”
An
older Greek looking no different than he did in the ninth century before the
common era when Homer was on earth telling his versions of The Iliad and The Odyssey
appears and smiling. “Will you have wine?” asks Aranos.
“You
were here witnessing Sophia, Mario, Salamon and Thales draw the plans,” says
Merlyn.
Aranos
laughs, “As though it was yesterday.”
Yesterday,
thinks Merlyn, holds a different meaning, here and now, in this cafe. Time
exists; the present exists as a memory/future dream might to we Dead. How to
explain this to the Living?
Socrates looks at the wall painting just
to the left of the front door and to the right of the entrance to another side
room. The painting shows a small temple. Above the frieze is the pediment, and
its center, the tympanum, is painted odd turquoise colors. He is suddenly
struck by these particular sky tones while Merlyn sits across from him in
thought.
Why with the mix of dark and medium
turquoises in the centered tympanum sky," wonders Socrates, "when the
outline of the pediment is gold? Two Doric gold columns hold up the pediment of
the front corners of the temple. The wall painting surround is a firebrick red
with two coiling gold serpents as symbolic decoration underneath the frieze of
cooks at work in the kitchen. The turquoise stands alone as the sky in the
tympanum. Why the turquoise and not blue for the sky? A blue and gold contrast
would go better together. Socrates
asks old Aranos, “Who painted the mural?”
Aranos grins, “I did. I remembered it
from life, from my own eatery. I loved the place so much the family built this.
This is my public sanctuary; I am here most of the time. I help passer-bys
carry on conversations. I am content.”
“Why is the tympanum painted turquoise?”
“The original artist did that, no one
knows why he chose those colors. In life, this artist with a good flask of wine
was asked once at my original Mikroikia. He said he didn’t know, that it just came to him, and afterwards
he liked it so he kept it that way. To be honest, I liked it myself, the color
is rather soothing.”
Socrates questions, “I assume it
represents the color of the sky.”
“A troubled sky by the look of it, like a
storm might be brewing somewhere a ways off.”
Aranos
smiles, “And, it is soothing because it looks like a coming storm. As you know,
Merlyn, it wasn’t until the mutual compromise that the recent second Rebellion
that we had a sun.” Aranos looks at the painting, saying, “Perhaps it is time
to put this away.”
Nothing
goes away, thinks Socrates.
“Who
is going away?” asks Merlyn.
Aranos
leaves Socrates and Merlyn to their favorite wine-in-a-taste of memory to meet
a foursome strolling in from the eighteenth century to sit at the bar.
“The
wine that isn’t here is going away,” says Socrates who punctuates the statement
with a laugh.
Merlyn
smiles mischievously, “And the glass that holds the wine which we taste does
not exist any more than we do.”
“We
do perceive the sensation of taste,
but if we exchange cups . . ..” Socrates trades him the glass for Merlyn’s, “ .
. . and we drink “
“We
still taste our personal sense of wine,” responds Merlyn. “I cannot taste your
memory of a favorite wine and you cannot taste mine.”
“Why
is this?” asks Socrates. “We recognise ourselves, our species and from our
fellow ghosts, the marsupial-humanoids. We can have dialogue but we cannot
experience each other’s experience of reality any more than we two can. I could
better accept this when we are living but not now.”
“Physically
we were built to follow function, to survive on Earth – that’s what brains and
sex were for. These marsupial-humanoid spirits say we are a spiritual
combination of heartansoulanmind.
“What
are the dreams for Merlyn. The visions. We know their form as we live within
dreams and visions. We share our dreams but we cannot share our wines. Why are
you sharing the experience of being Dead
with the Living? What is the sensation for the Living?”
“It
was a request we asked for,” retorts Merlyn, “to change the perspective of the
Living so they might live better.”
“But
why, Merlyn?” replies Socrates. “How does this effect our own condition? How
does it really effect theirs?
“Maybe
that’s the humor,” says Merlyn with a dark smile.
...
The Brothers 4
Richard
sits in his favorite stuffed chair in the living room. Here it is two weeks
until Christmas. He scratches his head with his left hand. I could get wife a
book. I have never seen such passionate mystery readers as Cyndi and Connie.
Who are their favorite writers? A whole litany of mystery writers in our
bookcases and at the moment I can’t think of a one of them. I’ll get them both
an equal gift certificate at one of their favorite hands on bookstores.
What a mix the two are, thinks Richard. The girls
have their books. Robert has his poetry; I have my writings. We all have our
passions. I wonder where are passions come from?
Robert knocks on the front door and walks in. “Hey,
what’s happening?’
Richard responds, “You sound like daughter, except
she says, ‘Hey, what’s up?’ but it is the same tone.”
Robert smiles, “You got nothing going on then.”
“Well, yeah. I have been thinking about what to get
Cyndi and Connie for Christmas.”
“How about a gift certificate at Barnes and Noble or
Amazon, Richie?”
“That’s a good idea. I hadn’t thought of that,”
replies Richard.
Rob continues, “It doesn’t entail much work. I like
that part. Nothing worse than spending a lot of time trying to think up
something.” He pauses, “Remember those shear nighties we got them at Victoria
Secrets?”
“Yeah, Rob. Cyndi still has hers in the drawer. It
has never been worn as far as I know.”
“Same with Connie. It sets in a drawer. She didn’t
take it back either. What a waste. We thought we were doing well.”
We were idiots to go into that store. We were the
only men shopping.
“What was Victoria’s Secret,” asks Robert.
“A Scotsman,” comments Richard with a smile. He adds,
“Why don’t we go Uptown and split a medium pizza Homer’s.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll drive,” replies Rob. “Didn’t
the four of us see movie about the Queen and her lover?”
“Yeah, it was after Albert died. Do you have the
Jag?”
“Yeah, the women are bringing the groceries over here
eventually.”
Shortly they park and walk to Homer’s. Once inside
they ordered before sitting down. Once seated Richard nonchalantly asks, “Why
do we have such a passion for ice cream and cheese?”
Robert comments, “Grandpa was a milk man, he worked
for Borden’s for forty years.”
“So, passions are inherited, why you become a surgeon
and me a teacher. No one in the family has been in medicine or higher
education.”
Robert comments, “No one had the time in those days.”
“So, today, you think we have more time for our
passions?”
“Our kids do. Look at them, they pretty much do what
they want when they want to do it.”
“Trips abroad. Ski trips. White water rafting, even
parachuting.”
“Yeah, isn’t that amazing. I wouldn’t jump out of a
plane for any amount of money.”
“Julie and Jennifer paid to jump. They said it was a
whim,” says Robert in a hint of wonder.
In
short order the drinks and pizza were served and heartily eaten. Soon they were
on their way home. Richard asks, “I wonder if we are born with our passions?”
“I
doubt it,” remarks Rob. “Most are born with instincts to survive, but that
doesn’t mean we have a passion for living.”
“I
have a passion for family, scholarship, chess and writing. I can’t think of
anything else at present, but I don’t have a passion for living.”
Robert
takes a moment to reconsider, “I have a passion for the living; it was my job
to better peoples’ health, to save people’s lives. I have a passion for saving
lives – not for life itself.”
“Why
is that? Neither one of us has a passion for life.”
Rob
smiles, “We are existentialists by nature.”
“Do
you think we were born that way? Nobody else in the family has been an
existentialist as far as I know. I don’t know what our kids are but they are
not existentialists,” replies Richard. “None of us go to church with any
regularity. If someone asks, I say I was raised Protestant,” Richard breaks
into a laugh, “no one has ever had the guts to ask for clarification.”
Robert
echoes the common laugh, “That’s good, Richie. I’m a surgeon. No one has ever
asked me.” They continue laughing.
...
Grandma’s Story 4
This is Grandma, and I want you to meet Sarah first.
She was twenty when her Grandfather, Lord Thomas died in 779. This is a
selection of what Sarah had on her mind and memory at eighty years of age.
.
‘Some
women are shields, but not me. I strike first and move everyone to cover if
need be. It has been this way since the death of Robert in the year of our
Lord, 807. We have land. We have sheep. I am tired of both. Have I never been
anywhere else? I am old and people expect me to die soon. I am ready.’
Sarah
found a stronger alliance with her Grandmother after hearing of her Uncle Jacob
and Aunt Ruth’s murders and their land taken in Viking raids of 783. Had she
and Robert not left to live on Grandmother Hilda’s estates, they would have
been dead too.
‘Thank
God Daniel had been saved from the worst of the Viking raids by Treasa, who had
been in the kitchen making pastries for the dinner that night of Lord Thomas’
death.
Daniel
had his family’s wealth well hidden. Afraid to claim his lordship’s title upon
marrying his “Sweet Treasa”, Daniel later discovered a looted royal notation
from Queen Hrethel, a Geat of South Sweden. Daniel forged the document to show
that he is directly related to dead Queen to prove his royal ancestry. Cousin
Daniel and Treasa live on the mainland now, near the River Clyde and the
Highlands. Their legal names became Frodisharg and Vigdisdottir.
As
one who could read and write in several languages, he traded the plundered
church and historical relics and made quite a name for himself in ancient
Glasgow. Along the way to further wealth, he discovered the family’s large oak
table; the one Merlyn had rested his real arms on. He and Treasa kept the
family heirloom and told their families’ stories of Renaldo and Criteria and
Merlyn, always in modification to fit the ancient Scandinavian sagas. Frodisharg’s
well-known family watchwords were: “It pays to have knowledge, but first it
pays to have wealth.”
Frodisharg’s
words are best remembered by his son Wilfred when told, “Our greatest treasure
is the old oak table.”
“Yes, it
is,” said Wilfred.
“It is
priceless, son. Never sell it.”
Wilfred
smiled politely, “It is your table Father, not mine.”
“It is not
my table. The table is a legacy in itself. Selling this table, is selling
family. This table belonged to great, great, great grandfather, Lord Renaldo in
the six hundreds.”
“Lord and
Lady,” scorns Wilfred. “We are Viking blood, not English. Do you have a record
of this?” asks Wilfred matter-of-factly mimicking his father discussing buying
a relic. Daniel does not bat a sardonic eye and blatantly comments, “You are the record, son. Are you about to
sell yourself short?”
.
Sarah
watches intently as her two sons, James and John, enter her room. They assume
she has called them to talk of her fortunes and how the land and sheep are
going to be divided into two separate enterprises. Each assumes that once the
legalities are signed they can get about their individual lives. The first
papers are not such legalities, but genealogy of the family instead. Each
receives a copy that each child had
originally drawn up as an odd requirement for inheriting the land and sheep.
Grandma interrupts herself, “Here is the conversation that these long dead
still remember.”
.
“You
and your wives have both done a good job in raising yourselves, your children,
and your grandchildren,” says Sarah. “As such I have further training for you
after I’m gone.”
“What
might that be, Mother?” questions
John.
She
looks in his long adult eyes, “You need to go where the money will be, not under your feet where it
sits to be walked on by others.”
“Pardon,
mum?” replies John thinking the worst of nightmares.
Sarah
detects a slight smirk on James’ face, and fires her eyes his direction quietly
thundering, “That goes for you too, James. This land and sheep are sold upon my
death. I want you to take the money and your families and head southeast to a
place called Pucklechurch. I have there secured land and sheep for you both.”
James
and John knew as much about raising sheep and holding land as their mother both
they did not know the extent of their mother’s management and wealth. The two
men better understood their father’s and mother’s early business watchwords
though, follow the money. James and
John were ready when their day came.
Sheep and land used to make one feel grand
When economic security suited the family’s plan –
Another family stable: an old oak table.
To continue this Grandma’s once a fable.
...
Diplomatic
Pouch 4
The six are sitting informally at their usual
locations around the table in the mid-morning. Friendly has notes. This has not
occurred before.
“What
is this about?” asks Justin. “Is there a problem in navigation?”
Yermey
breaks into a grin saying, “This is about navigating our culture. We waited
until we got to know each other a bit better and can be comfortable with
certain social truths that were adapted long before we came upon the scene.”
“This
is about how we were taught – social programs as it were,” adds Hartolite.
“We
do not wholehearted agree with these rules but we do not need to,” comments
Friendly who desperately wishes there were not ten of them.
“Just
tell us the rules,” says Blake suddenly thinking of the common safety rules
listed at public and private swimming pools.
Friendly begins, “First, allow me to read the rules
in total, then we will take questions. These are the social rules children are
taught to grow and mature with. Children and adults alike are expected to do
their best to live by common sense within them.
.
The Rules
1. Respect
the Concept of Godofamily,
2. Honor
the Dead,
3. Be
a Friend,
4. Work
to Serve the Family, so the Individual may be Freer,
5. Be
Unselfish Helping others and with Hope,
6. Be
Free within socially cultural Limits,
7. Give
up arrogance and false pride for better Survival of the greater Family,
8. Nature
loans us Life; this allows us to Lease most tangible Goods so We might be Free
of material wealth.
9. Give
Love to those who are in Need; and,
10. Allow
a nonviolent social world to exist so the Individual may become content in
herorhis self-dignity.
.
“Our
cultures will not react positive with this rules,” comments Blake.
“These
rules are not practical. We need, we demand laws on the book,” says Justine
while thinking people break rules all the time.
“On
the whole, I like them,” smiles Pyl, “but they would be considered very naive
on our planet.”
“Besides,”
adds Blake unthinkingly, “we are primates.”
“How
do you promote such rules?” asks Pyl in a cynical manner with a disgusting eye
towards her brother at the same time. “What is the social propaganda used to
manipulate people into this ruled conformity?”
Friendly
responds, “Our citizens learn to obey this rules because they tend to free one
within herorhis human spirit. People have to learn to make personal judgments
and they do so during home and social schooling. Early on students are told
that in making tough personal decisions it is usually good to consult people
you love and who love you. This training begins in, uh, pre-kindergarten. On or
near one’s sixteenth birthday, each student who is deemed socially and
personally responsible is given two pills. This is the way we say it, “These
pills are for your own good so that you will think first. Both pills appear the
same on the outside.”
Friendly,
Hartolite and Yermey take out their own pills as testament. Hartolite
continues, “You can see the pills are identical. She pauses instinctively. One
pill contains a poison that will kill you quickly and without pain. The other
pill makes you very sick and is quite painful for long enough that you will
wish you had taken the other one, but you will recover and hopefully survive a
wiser person.”
“What
happens to the poisoned pill once you have survived,” asks Blake.
Yermey
says, “The remaining pill is taken away and destroyed. If both are taken, one
recovers but the pain is generally longer. At least that is what people say.”
“The
point,” notes Hartolite, “is that each is given the personal responsibility for
herorhis own life at the age of sixteen.”
“It
is similar to allowing people in your cultures the legalities of driving a car
– freedom and responsibility,” comments Friendly in a cheerful tone.
“I
thought you people cared so much about personal safety,” says Pyl in some
disappointment.
“We
do,” replies Yermey. “The pill is built only for the individual genetics of
each person. Taking someone else’s pill gives the individual a terrible body
rash which when discovered allows medical personal to determine whose pill was
taken. This happens rarely because we can show the individual the scientific
and witnessed proof of the pills ability to work as advised.”
“Has
there ever been an error recorded?” asks Blake.
“Only
one,” replies Friendly. “Yermey is the only one in fifteen thousand years who
discovered how to tell the two pills apart, and after the demonstration of
taking one pill and his eventual recovery he explained to leadership how he
picked the right one.”
“I
became famous,” says Yermey with his mischievous grin. “I was seventeen.”
*** ***
Everything appears up to date. Be sure and
copy the chapter to Page for save keeping in iCloud. – Post. – Amorella
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