Notes - Uncle Clayton / study hall / right questions

       Afternoon. You are sitting in your usual spot at Rose Hill Cemetery while Carol is walking. A short time ago you had lunch at Piada Street Italian. – Amorella

       1355 hours. I am still getting used to the keyboard. I think the touch pad may be a bit too sensitive as my thumbs come close to touching as they rest on the keyboard.

       You have nothing on mind, but deeper, you wonder about how genetics and memory work. For example, the other morning at Kim and Paul’s you were sitting in the arm chair and suddenly you looked down to see your knees and feet straight ahead in a more formal stance, your arms were resting on the chair arm, again, slightly more formal. You were sitting with your back straighter, also more formal. Suddenly, you had a quick smile and thought, ‘Uncle Clayton’. – Amorella

       1401 hours. This brings an open smile. Yes, Uncle Clayton was my Grandmother Schick’s brother, Clayton Freeman. They are buried near one another in the Freeman section of Otterbein Cemetery. When I was four to ten or eleven years old I used to see Great Uncle Clayton when he would visit Grandma when she lived on Schreyer Place in north end Columbus. He was in his seventies to eighties. He had a farmer’s skin texture and he wore loose work clothing and big work boots, black leather that laced up to his ankle top. He was a farmer and the Freeman land was up at Lewis Center on the east side of the tracks north of Lewis Center Road. Uncle Clayton always came in and sat in the same armchair, always in the same rather formal position. His big hand would reach in his pocket when I approached and he would give me a coin, usually a quarter. I always assumed he gave it to me out of friendship, then we would talk about, more so as I got older – always a quarter – never when my sister or cousin was around. I always remember his weather-worn face and arms and hands. He seemed to me ‘naturally wildish and quiet tempered’. Grandma said he never married. The point here is that I found myself unthinkingly sitting in the same body stance that Uncle Clayton always sat at Grandma’s. This feeling/thought did not present me with goosebumps; what came immediately to mind was that ‘I am a Freeman’, that the Freeman genes rose up and reestablished themselves as I sat. This feeling/thought set a ‘genetic harmony’ in heartansoulanmind – thus, intuitively, I feel there is a connection between genetics and heartansoulanmind. – rho (1421)

       You needed to be reminded because what you wrote is what is settling deep. It needed to be expressed so I brought attention. – Amorella

       1426 hours. Carol just returned and is reading the latest AARP magazine, an article on “Don’t Eat Dead Food” as part of the secret to living a long life. I think long living is as much luck as anything else – the luck may be good or bad depending on one’s circumstances at the time. – I am surprised about the memory of Uncle Clayton being deeper, certainly than I imagined, because I didn’t see him that often. I did like him though. He was, in my memory a, ‘what you see is what you are’ sort of fellow. A farmer’s view is as an engineer’s point of view, practical laced with theory when possible. I’m projecting here, but I am sure he rotated his crops, for instance; however, the weather conditions were more important than rotation. That’s how I envision the older man. I’ll have to ask Aunt Ruthie how she remembers Uncle Clayton. It’ll be interesting to get her viewpoint. She’s the only one left in the family that knew him as far as I know. (1436)

       Here you thought you had nothing to say, that is, nothing was on your mind. – Amorella

       1438 hours. Like you say, Amorella, it wasn’t on my mind, it was in my heart’s memory, which as far as I knew at the time, was silent.

       After the cemetery, a stop at Graeter’s for kids’ cup treats then home to rake two major piles of new leaves down from north side honeysuckle bushes. The other leaves were collected by the city this morning. – Amorella

       1604 hours. It would be more practical if human beings could better learn how to discern the difference from heart and mind, that is, to consciously recognize what is in mostly silent hearts like we consciously recognize what is on our minds. Although for some people it is the other way around, some know their hearts but don’t pay enough attention to their reasons, the minds. Personally, I like you, Amorella, for paying attention to both the heart and soul as I appear to have either nothing or too much on my mind at any one time. (1609)

       We can make that a theme throughout Soki’s Choice. – Amorella

       1611 hours. It’s already too complicated now. My mind is a playground when it should be a classroom/library or at least a study hall.

       You have a point, boy. Post. - Amorella

       1628 hours. I think my heart (unknown to me) was setting up Uncle Clayton’s stance as I sat there, because I was evidently thinking about him and Grandma.

       Could be, Amorella.

       2105 hours. How do you work, Amorella. How can you ‘sense’ heart communication from soul  from communication, from mind communication?

       This ability is from within yourself to understand yourself unconsciously. – Amorella

       2111 hours. In other words I had to invent a conscious speaker for the unconscious – one such as yourself. You were/are “the gift, not the giver of the gift”, that is what you said. I realize this all subjective and not open to detached objective reasoning.

       If this were all subjective, then how could you honestly declare yourself an existential transcendentalist, let alone state you love G---D?

       2122 hours. From my perspective I can say these thoughts are constructed in personal statements. This does not mean others cannot refute my statements as subjective. The statements are subjective certainly from the scrutiny of others.

       You have chores to do, boy. Later. Post. – Amorella

       2128 hours. I have to learn to ask the right questions.

       That, my friend, was once a start. - Amorella