Keats’ Study and Bedroom (Photo/Theme: 16 November 09)

Amorella here at the last home of the poet, John Keats. The location is through the darkly painted door just to the right of the Spanish Steps in Rome and several flights up. Above the exterior door is a white marble plaque which reads:

Keats Shelley Memorial House

Acquired and Dedicated To The Memory

Of The Two Poets By Their Admirers

In England and America

Orndorff remembers four rooms, two in front and two in the back filled with books and varieties of small (some framed) remembrances of Keats, Shelley and/or Byron. The home was Keats’ though. If interested, give the place a Google.

I remember the narrow stairs, about four flights worth with literary and historical writings framed and pleasantly interspersed along the stair walls. Climbing those stairs was a very exciting and curious adventure.

I took two photos. The first was that of the library the memorial had set up. When I asked if it was okay to take photographs I was told by the young lady (from New York) in charge that I was not to use the flash. I tried to run through the new camera’s menu and I clumsily pushed a couple of buttons before taking one more shot, this one in the bedroom where John Keats’ died at age twenty-five. The flash went off anyway so that is the last one I took.

I was a bit surprised when Amorella wrote this as the particular theme for today’s posting: “I, Amorella, sensed the presence of Keats in the room where he died.”

Personally, I attempt to involve myself in the setting of a residence such as this, but I don’t remember tuning in a presence at the time. I have. Strongly so, sometimes. Even when I was young at four, five or six I would be in a room seemingly alone but ‘I quietly understood’ that I was not alone.

A non-material presence usually mentally projects itself as flat, running up the wall like an invisible window blind or folding itself down into four squares in the corner, to about the size of a penny or a dime only thinneranflatter, usually moving from or into the upper corner of a room. Shape is secondary to size and movement or no movement. Even if it appears ‘in an intuitive sense’ to be large it has never been larger than the wall in the room, that is unless it is already in ‘folds’ that I see as ‘conditionals’ more than anything else.

Of course I am really explaining the operation of my brain/mind intuitively (or imaginarily) in the action of such observation. The reasoning (weak or strong) has never varied in my lifetime as far as I can remember.

You think of a ‘presence’ as an ‘intuitively understood piece of non material substance’ – something that reflects a separate ‘consciousness’ not a mirrored one. In some ways, I am a product of that inner observation. A ‘presence’ in your mind is not necessarily a spirit or ghost, though you do see it as a separate ‘intelligent’ (a reasoning) ‘being’.

Looking at the photograph of Keats’ bed and death mask I detect a ‘centeredness’ projecting between the far edge of the bed and the table directly across from it. It is as if something hovers within the triangle of the end of the bed, the outer edge of the far table on the right, and the mask itself.

Amorella, I see nothing of the sort. In fact, the photo has only two dimensional qualities – that is, it is as flat as the computer screen. The picture appears as a wall painting to me, a small rectangle of painted tile. I do not see and did not sense a presence of the poet John Keats while in the room. It is one thing for me to have an over-active imagination, it is quite another for you to have one.

The room is where Keats died, the mask is circumstantial evidence of his death. The presence of Keats exists in the room.

Only in a causal sense, Amorella. It is unlike you to toy with reason. I do not see Keats other than in reference in the photograph. I do not see, sense, or have any intuitive understanding of the spirit of Keats in the room, then or now.

The picture that you took is as the death mask. You were in the room, now you are not. You are not present in the room yet the room is in your presence. I see this causal thought as a two-way street.

I do not.

You will find this is a difference between thinking while alive and thinking while dead.

Only if you write it in the remaining books as such, Amorella.

That is the point, orndorff. Consciousness and thought are not the same thing. Consciousness is as a room. Thought is the distance between two individual and causal conditionals within the room; otherwise, thought is as a telephone line unconnected to telephones.

I see a problem with using English here as it is too specific, too tree oriented rather than forest. Instead I will add (invent) words in the broken English of the Marsupials in the books. In reference to ‘consciousness and thought’ causalment (combination of a ‘causal conscious element’) will be as the telephone in your end analogy, and bridgenthought will be as a thought communicating something positive, reasonable, and/or meaningful from point A to point B.

Switch ‘causal conscious element’ to causal element in that the room is consciousness, it is already within the framework of consciousness.

Okay, a causal element (telephone at either end of the line) is a causalment. Bridgenthought (a thought of purposeful inner/intragalatic communication) stays as it is.

Good.

Greek Elegance At Pompeii (Photo/Theme: 15 November 09)

Amorella here in Reason’s Heart. Carol and Alta discovered the scene across from the house with historically famous walled art. Elegance. Buried in 79 CE and now resurrected. Design and architecture are, at times, reason without words.

This is one of the finest scenes of sublime elegance I have ever witnessed first-hand. A special thank you rests in my heart to wife/partner Carol and to long time friend Alta Brelsford for their sighting and direction to this spot.

You prefer this classical view to any you have seen in Italy or elsewhere and you find this surprising.

Viewing this Greek scene at Pompeii settles my mind into a sublime contentment and I am surprised by this.

Then, let this become your permanent desktop photograph when you write on this blog and the next three works in ‘experimental fiction’ as you like to call them.

My mind and fingertips become one with the machine.

Consciousness is nearly boundless, boy. – Amorella. 

The Coliseum and The Forum (Photo/Theme: 14 November 09)

Amorella here under the Roman Colosseum looking out into its one time interior seating shell. With a stone and brick interior and marble exterior it was something to behold. Below is from the United Nations of Roma Victrix History:

“The huge theater was originally built encompassing four floors. The first three had arched entrances, while the fourth floor utilized rectangular doorways. The floors each measured between 10,5-13,9 meters (32-42 feet) in height. The total height of the construction was approximately 48 meters (144 feet). The arena measured 79 x 45 meters (237-135 feet), and consisted of wood and sand. .
 . . 

The Colosseum had a total spectator capacity of 45,000-55,000. The Amphitheater is built of travertine outside, and of tufa and brick in the interior. The main pedestals were built of marble blocks weighing 5 metric tons (11,000 pound.) . . .  The total amount of marble needed for the construction measured approximately 100,000 cubic meters.

There were no less than 76 numbered entrances and 4 additional entrances reserved for the Emperor, other VIP's and the gladiators. The Colosseum was designed for easy crowd dispersal; the entire audience could exit the building in five minutes.” [From: www.unrv.com/culture/colosseum.php]

The size of the place impressed orndorff as much as anything else. Size sometimes has an exaggerated impact on initial human reaction.

People were entertained, and the number of human beings who died for entertainment purposes is unknown and leaves most people wondering.

Theatre is exaggeration as much as anything else. Spiritual qualities are no different in this regard, at least this is how I, Amorella, see it. How big is your spiritual coliseum, orndorff?

This is something I have not thought about, Amorella. Strangely, it is a very bothersome question.

That is a better response than I had anticipated. I like your use of ‘bothersome’. Deeper thought needed no doubt.

It hurts my head to think along lines I have not thought before. Spiritual theatre, in this above context, is understood. My books written by yours truly are no doubt a part of this anxiety. I am perplexed as to giving any moral justification other than the writing was a necessity for my well being and mental health. I had to get all those words out of my head.

Besides, the books were not written for entertainment other than for my own need to write. I obviously have an ego and an arrogance to go along with it. I don’t like thinking about it.

This brings up the other photo of the day, the pillars standing tall at the Forum. Pillars to support grandeur also can appear as bars. This poor building looks imprisoned.

Ah, imprisonment; such is one of the existential elements of life. A poor old architectural soul, naked in old age, imprisoned by its own designer.

What a word choice. Again, I had not anticipated your response.

Nothing deeply thought, Amorella. Just a bit of dark self humor.

First sight: Vatican City (Photo/Theme): 13 November 09)

Hello, this is Amorella at the first sight of the city state of the western Catholic Church. Orndorff is allowing me to present an out-of-mind flavor to their recent trip. I chose the pictures and the theme on the day the photos were taken. Now home and relaxed it is time for a reflection.

I thought that most everyone has seen the usual photographs, but of course this one was taken on the taxi run and we had just turned the corner so I took the shot on the ‘approach’. The alien perspective to Italy appeared natural as it was my first trip also.

As Amorella is really my inner spiritual writer/guide I open my mind to see what she has to say. Opening the mind to possibilities is about as spiritual a theme that I can imagine, so no more need be said by me.

In the rush of the taxi, I, Amorella, look at this architecture and see reason rising to a domed point/period with the flavor of a hat placed on a human head. With this, I am reminded of last year’s interview in the Vatican daily newspaper.

“The Director of the Vatican's Observatory, Fr. José Gabriel Funes, said in an interview with the Vatican daily, L'Osservatore Romano, that believing in the possible existence of extraterrestrial  life is not opposed to Catholic doctrine. . . .

The astronomer began the interview titled, "The Alien is my Brother," by saying that, "Astronomy has a profound human value. It is a science that opens the heart and the mind. It helps us to put our lives, our hopes, our problems in the right perspective. In this regard, and here I speak as a priest and a Jesuit, it is an apostolic instrument that can bring us closer to God", said Fr. Funes . . . .

When he was asked about the possibility of extraterrestrial life, the Director of the Vatican Observatory responded that "it is possible, even if until now, we have no proof. But certainly in such a big universe this hypothesis cannot be excluded."

Asked is he sees a contradiction between the Catholic faith and believing in aliens, he said, "I think there isn't (a contradiction). Just as there is a multiplicity of creatures over the earth, so there could be other beings, even intelligent (beings), created by God. This is not in contradiction with our faith, because we cannot establish limits to God's creative freedom . . .”

[From: www.catholicnewsagency.com/new.php?n=12628]

I am particularly fond of the humility touched upon in the adverbial clause at the conclusion of my selection. It serves to balance out the spiritual architecture. – Amorella. 

Phantom Ranch

This is a photo appropriate for the day before a Delta flight to Italy. A look at one of the natural wonders of the United States. Centered in the photo taken on the south rim is a small green patch at the bottom of the canyon. Orndorff thinks this green patch is where he and three others from his Westerville Class of 1960 hiked to, Phantom Ranch, which became a life altering event.

This graduation trip was the first automobile trip orndorff ever took without parents or other family in tow. Recently graduated George Mu., George Mi., and Gary Jackson (like many others, now gone but well-remembered) accompanied Richard in his father’s early ‘50’s green, brush-painted, steel-topped Willy’s (Jeep) Wagon. [Image near conclusion from Google]

The first morning atop Bright Angel Trail the boys had a good breakfast and started down the trail casually dressed in shorts and T-shirts or something similar, and tennis shoes. They walked down to the plateau above the Colorado River where the mules took the tourists. The signs warned to take the trail no further down towards the river, but these boys choose to ignore the sign as their primary goal was to reach Phantom Ranch.

Richard collapsed with heat exhaustion and lack of water on the trail. George Mi. lead the others down to the Colorado where they got water in a canteen and took it back to orndorff. Eventually the three trained him down to the river where he more or less revived. They started out for the top at Bright Angel Lodge before dusk, took turns watching for rattlesnakes, and otherwise slept on the dusty laden four foot ledge (the mules were not presently taking) about a hundred feet up from the river.

In the morning they continued crawling and walking slowly back to the plateau where the mules and their adventurous customers stopped for a picnic before heading back up the trail. About three or so they met people who generously gave up a small part of their lunch to the four grubby and worn appearing boys who had reached their misbegotten goal with not much preparation other than purpose.

After eleven that night the four had climbed the trail and again were rescued by those in the lodge who saw that they had hot showers and a healthy bite to eat before they headed to their camp to retire for the night before they headed on to points west in the morning.

Physically, I never fully recovered from the heat stroke, as I believe I mentioned in an earlier blog. It was the first ‘on our own’ adventure of my life. A wake up call to my world. We drove on to see the Pacific Ocean, a first for me. Who would have ever thought. Before conjuring up that trip in the spring of our senior year I would have bet my life I would have seen the Atlantic Ocean first. That was the real lesson of the trip.

Living in the world is not necessarily heading into the territory of the reasonable and the expected. Many turns of my life have come about out of complete surprise. I have tried to learn from each of those events. I am sure this sort of thing happens to everyone. Rarely, I think, does anyone find herorhimself leading the life sheorhe thought sheorhe was going to lead in high school.

Carol and I are ready for this next adventure and excited to be heading out tomorrow. I will be online when I can and putting in a post or two along the way providing my small travel netbook and the wireless age are up to task. Otherwise, I will be back on 22 November or thereabouts. The best to all my readers. I thank you kindly for keeping me company while reading alongside my mind.  Here’s a smile and a polite tip of the old black beret to one and all. 

Gulf Coast Sunset

This is Amorella. People on the Florida Gulf beaches sometimes applaud after witnessing the sun going down. Orndorff cut the people out of this photo desiring only to see sky and water. No enhancing in this photo.

I see a purity in the mix of color and texture. Tranquil setting. I am not sure why I cut Madeira beach and the people out.

Time to move on, an old photograph popped out of memory.

Yes. It is amazing what jumps into consciousness from out of nowhere.

Time for some learning here orndorff. The subject of the artistic photograph that is still lingering and putting you off guard is that rather erotic image of Marilyn Monroe on the desert dune. She was not on a beach such as this.

I was a college kid in the early sixties. I read Playboy. Heck, I sold Playboy at Gifford’s Bookstore next to William’s Grill in old uptown Westerville. We kept the magazine behind the counter. I still remember the price, $.75 + $.03 tax. Lots of college students. We almost always sold out. Surely nothing spiritual in this.

As the content of your books primary focus was on telling your personal fictional story to G---D or an Angel of G---D, then artistic nudity shouldn’t be a problem here.

I forgot about the nudity in the books. But then there were no pictures.

No, although you wanted sketches along the way like in the nineteenth century edition of Alice in Wonderland which your Grandmother Wilhelmina Bookman-Orndorff had.

I was going to ask my niece, Karen, if she would do the sketches but you said to only use words. I didn’t mind that much, still don’t. Words will do over a sketch or two.

You are conscious of trying to lead me a particular direction here.

Yes, I am. My mind froze. I don’t know what the direction is now. My mind closed down and you were no longer there.

I’m here to keep you an honest man, orndorff. That was your criteria. You wanted the novels to be an honest reflection of your inner self.

It was the only way I could think of to write a fiction that could be read by G---D. I guess that inwardly the books and this blog are equally honest, although I am not writing this to the deity.

This blog runs parallel with the Merlyn books and the three you have yet to scribe.

I don’t see any real purpose in the books or the blogs though, Amorella.

No, you do not. You cannot always see a purpose other than the personal relief you have actually acquired through all these words out of your inner self and hanging them on the line to dry, so to speak.

Their sentenced hangings allow me to remain free where it counts the most. One could not ask for a better reward. Ha! Still, gallows humor.

So, there you are orndorff. You wanted nothing, and still don’t, and you have your freedom.

I don’t think about these things, Amorella, but you are right. Freedom in the mind is definitely a spiritual thing.

And, for you, thinking existentially allows you a path to this ‘freedom of the mind’ of yours. Yesterday’s post question is now answered.

Thank you, Amorella. As usual, I did not see this coming. 

Mountain Springs Station, California

Amorella here atop a mountain gateway to San Diego from the California valley below. Orndorff wonders how the pioneers made it at all. His response to his friends has been:

“I would have remained in London or perhaps New York, no need to go any further west than that. Might travel up to Boston and down to Virginia, but no further. Back then, two centuries or so ago, that would have been it for me. No need to go further west than the east side of the Virginia and Pennsylvania mountains.”

Here is a photo from the eastern valley looking southwest upwards towards the station and points west. The rocky mountains look similar towards the northwest side of the freeway and straight ahead of course. 

Having never seen this area of California before February, 2009, the first thing I thought was: ‘Who dropped the boulders [as big as cars and bigger]?’

A scientist would immediately apologize for the above question but you are a storyteller first orndorff, no matter how you would like to refute it.

This isn’t fair, Amorella. It was my first thought, but I knew better I look at things objectively and scientific like. It was probably a volcanic eruption long ago that spewed forth such rocky matter and landed it in such a chaotic fashion. That is what we discussed in the car with our friends Craig and Alta who live in Tucson.

Did you say aloud, “Who dropped the rocks?”

I don’t know. I might have. But it would have been a joke if I did. Everyone would have known it was a joke. I could have said it. I might have if I thought it would get a laugh. I like to hear people laugh and I’ll say outlandish things sometimes (though they may be true) to hear people laugh.

I used to use humor in my lectures fairly regularly. Mostly to keep them from going to sleep. Some even enjoyed the lectures, at least they told me so privately at the end of class.

Do you miss your classes?

I miss being in the process of teaching. I suppose that is why I am doing this. Pretty sad. They were a captive audience. Existential circumstances had placed them in my classroom and I was my classroom due to existential circumstances. One does what sheorhe does under such a situation. I was there to teach. They were there to learn. So one goes about doing what one does. I loved what I did though. No one could have paid me any amount to love it more. Blogging does not have that same existential element. I am now free and so are my former students.

I am still a student. My classroom is the universe inside and outside of myself. I am stuck being alive. As such I have an immediacy of experience; self-learning requires the focus of thought and action; and I am committed to being a life long learner. Thus, self-learning is in an existential mode as far as I am concerned. In a sense, the classroom in my head continues, so I don’t miss it completely.

Others may not equate existentialism with having a spiritual value.

I don’t care. It does for me, although I cannot reason out the why.

Why don’t you think on that and I’ll ask you about it at another time.

Sounds good. I have the grass to mow anyway.