Notes

         Up with the sun, fed the cat, got the papers, breakfast. Carol is off to breakfast at First Watch with her retired Blue Ash teacher friends.

         After you delivered the paper to the neighbor and picked up your own, you sat on the front porch chair thinking. It suddenly dawned on you that in the previous scene either Athena or Zeus mentioned Chaos, and here in the next scene you are thinking about fractals, which are a part of Chaos Theory. It struck you quite funny on how slow you are on the uptake.

         It is still funny, Amorella. You would think I would have been able to map the story out somewhat, at least from scene to scene, but that is not the case. I am always walking in the side door rather than the front like most everyone else. I don’t know why. In some ways it is rather silly because it really doesn’t mean anything either way since I still find myself going in a particular direction (supposedly to the conclusion of book five). I am too old to think any of it odd, but it is funny. If I finish all six and look at them on the shelf I will probably wonder who wrote them and why, for goodness sake’s, did he? Right now, when I look at the first three books and ask why I know the answer immediately – to work on book four. Good thing I have a sense of humor or these existentially thinking moments would be for nothing at all in my settling mind on these things in general.

         Almost supper time. Errands and chores as well as lunch at Potbelly’s in Kenwood then “Young Victoria” at the Regal Cinema on Mason-Montgomery Road. You both felt it a well-done film and you thoroughly enjoyed the excellent acting as well as costumes and appropriate cinematography.

         You would like to work on scene eight, to finish it up, but for now, relax. You have had a good day. Post. – Amorella.          

         I have a question. Why is it appropriate to mention seeing a film in the blog as it has nothing to do with the books? I mean I did enjoy it as did Carol, but what connection does it have other than a typical general opinion which the other day you said was not important? By the way, I agree, my personal views are really of no value in this blog. The film though is an exception as are the places we eat and places I find myself when writing these notes.

         Here is the difference, orndorff. Writing is your passion. Family events are your passion whether you think so or want to declare it or not. And, this particular film has other connections that allow you more personal identity even if some of it is fiction. One, you love almost all things British Isles. You walked through Kensington Palace and the Gardens back when Kim went with you and Carol. You sat on a bench and watched the people walk by right outside the west side of the palace while waiting for Carol and Kim and thoroughly enjoyed yourself. You feel a strong connection. And, you had one of the direct descendants of Victoria and Albert while teaching. Personal connections make all the difference to you. This is because you are a human being, orndorff. Too bad. Enjoy it.

         You don’t need to say “too bad” sarcastically like that. I know what species I am.

         You may know it but you don’t always like it, orndorff. Are you going to deny this, boy?

         No, but it is arrogant to think like this.

         Arrogance comes with the species, boy.

         I don’t have to like it, Amorella.

         And, you don’t, boy. Post this and put some thought to it before we continue with scene eight. – Amorella. 

Notes & incomplete draft of Scene 8- Chapter Four

         Up with the cat and dampness in the outside air. Carol got the papers and you fed the cat and policed the kitchen. Breakfast and the paper and it’s an hour before mid-morning.

         Scene eight will be a mix, Kassandra with Salaman and Thales.

         After noon, and you and Carol are over at Pine Hill Park. You walked and Carol is still walking on this comfortable though windy day. Earlier you received an email from Doug on math from NYTimes. You don’t need to download it all. Let’s go to it and I’ll drop down what you need for the story. Here is the key material to keep in mind for the book

Opinion| March 07, 2010

            Opinionator: Finding Your Roots

            By Steven Strogatz

Complex numbers, a hybrid of the imaginary and the real, are the pinnacle of number systems.

“. . .chaos reigned near the boundary. . . . Little things — tiny, imperceptible changes in the initial conditions — could make all the difference.”

“. . . The colors [of the fractals] intermingled … [and]… touching each other at infinitely many points, and always in a three-way. . . . wherever two colors met, the third would always insert itself and join them.”

“. . . In a way [complex dynamics] brought geometry back to its roots.  In 600 B.C. a manual written in Sanskrit for temple builders in India gave detailed geometric instructions for computing square roots, needed in the design of ritual altars.  More than 2,500 years later, . . .  the instructions were written in binary code.

Some imaginary friends you never outgrow.”

**

         An example image of a fractal is:        

Can you picture this fractal above as leaf-like, orndorff?

         I don’t know, Amorella. The universe in a fractal state doesn’t make sense.

What about the use with hearts or souls? For example, two people touching one another in the heart invites the insertion of a third, a soul?

I don’t know. It seems too esoteric for the book. But, in this next scene you have three people and somehow two could invite the third but I don’t know on what level, especially since we are dealing with metaphysics not physics here. I don’t see how this has anything to do with the tree analogy either. I’m up for whatever, but I think my mind is not working so well at the moment, Amorella.

The earlier computer scan below (from the 8 March post) the 3-D image of the galaxies in the universe is not a fractal so I have to find a fractal that is similar to me.

The fractal in public domain below is more the shape of a vein in a leaf, it is imaginable to me.

        

        That is enough for now. Go watch your show, Human Target, then we can work until ten and come up with something for this next scene. – Amorella.

         You received a message from the person you thought owned the fractal below, but she said she just borrowed it. Put it in below because it fits in your head as a fun fractal that might be usable in your imagination. It’s title is “fractal-julius-tree” but you don't know if it is a domain free image or not.

         Now, let’s work on scene eight.

         You worked until CSI-NY and now it is time for bed. Post what you have of the scene and let it go until tomorrow. – Amorella. 

Scene 8

Evening. The two men stood patiently at Kassandra’s door waiting for her to open it.

“This is like life,” commented Salaman. “What is her problem? Why doesn’t she respond?”

Thales replied, “I agree. This is unlike her. Perhaps she fell into a deep sleep. If so, we will not be able to disturb her.”

“Why don’t we go back to the Mikroikia and see if Mario shows up,” suggested Salaman. “We haven’t seen him all day.”

“Nor Sophia. We must be missing something,” noted Thales. “This is very odd.”

“Maybe Mother called it off.”

The door suddenly opened outwardly. “I’m sorry. Come in. I need to fill you two in.”

“We could have met at the Mikroikia and had a good time waiting.”

Kassandra acted as though she didn’t hear him, and shut the door to private.

She turned, attempted a smile, and said, “I have these two chairs and the bed. Who wants the bed?”

“I’ll take it,” said Salaman. “I just want to lie down.”

Thales winked at Kassandra and sarcastically commented, “This is what we Dead do best, lie down." Then he deliberately said, "What is on your mind, Kassandra?”

She adjusted the legs of the chair for her comfort. “Sophia and I were called to Mother’s this afternoon because Mario had gone to speak to her earlier.”

Thales shrugged with his hands suddenly in the air, shot out, “It is over then.” His mind ran through the following thoughts. I knew it. This plan wasn’t going to work. Zeus has put an end to all this. I knew it was Zeus.

“Why weren’t we at least consulted?” asked Salaman indignantly. This was rigged by the women, he thought. They always want to control.

“Mother invited us into her private chamber. It is really a chapel.”

“No one has ever been to her privacy chamber.”

Thales added, “I didn’t know she needed one.” Then he asked, “To what gods? Who are her favorites?”

Kassandra then whispered as if it were the darkest secret in all of Elysium, “She worships no gods or goddesses, no one in the Pantheon and none foreign either.”

Salaman, still in anger asked, “What did Mario stir up? He is the start of today’s event.”

“Start with Mario,” concurred Thales. “I agree. He is the instigator. It was arrogant to confront Mother directly without confiding in us beforehand. What is this all about, Kassandra?”

. . . to be continued.

Notes & a Drafts of Scene 7 of Chapter Four

         Mid-morning. You and Carol are going for a walk in the park with you ‘hobbling’ up across the earth dam and back while she takes the regular blacktop course as it is too wet to take the trails. We can work on scene seven today. The dialogue will be among the three women, one of them being Mother in mid-afternoon. Use the entrance-way of your desktop house as the entrance to Mothers. We will begin as they walk on the path between the stone circles and around the right side of the trunk of the tree. Mother will greet them at the entrance-way and the three will walk into the room on the right which will be described from the photo of the room with the wall painting at Pompeii so you might have those photos handy.

         Post photos of Entrance and Mother’s room left (both from Pompeii) > You spent time looking for one of the photos you picked up from Flickr and you found the Pompeii site full of photos you might use in description throughout this book and the next.

Below is my photo from Pompeii to be used as entrance to Mother’s:

Below is to be Mother’s first room to the right:on the main hallway, the chapel.

(Taken last Fall I believe, by someone on Flickr. I searched for the photo and the name but so far I have not re-discovered it. Also, taken at Pompeii.)

         I did gather a bit of info from Google  on Nyx, below. Google and Wikipedia and a variety of other online sources have been invaluable assets.

Nyx in Greek Mythology

“The goddess Nyx was the personification of Night in Greek mythology. One of the best sources for information about this goddess comes from the Theogony of Hesiod. A great many references are made to Nyx in this poem that describes the birth of the Greek gods and goddesses. And the explanation for this is simple - Nyx played an important role in myth as one of the first divine beings to come into existence.

Hesiod states that Night was the daughter of Chaos, which makes her one of the first creatures ever to emerge from the void. This means that Nyx was the sister to some of the oldest deities in Greek myth, including Erebus  (Darkness), Gaia (the Earth), and Tartarus (the Underworld). From these primeval powers came the rest of the Greek gods and goddesses. And Nyx was responsible for bearing her share of divine children.

Nyx gave birth to a number of offspring. Some of these children of Night were Eris (Discord or Strife), the Moirai (Fates), Hypnos (Sleep), Nemesis (Retribution), Thanatos (Death), and the Hesperides. While these beings were born from the goddess alone, without a father. . .”     (Hesiod, Theogony, 744 ff.)

         Getting on mid-afternoon and we have some work to do, orndorff.

         Yes. I am ready. Been toying with FB. So many friends, mostly former students, but old friends too. It is a real joy to visit a few each day and see how they are doing and looking at their changing profile photos. Keeps me young.

         That it does. Take a short break and we will go at it. Don’t forget to post. – Amorella.

         Time for a break. You just completed the paragraph:

         “Quickly approaching the northern side of the stone ring the two women see the steps and grand porch that lead to the entrance of serene and seemingly austere one story home of their singular mitochondrial Eve, known simply as Mother in her company.”

Scene 7

         Not much traffic appears on the short final leg of North Eleusis Street. Seven to nine flat stones of one to three foot dimensions lay in a somewhat patchy horizontal pattern across the street as it snakes up to a final curve to the right where it ends at the small formal garden ten feet from the massive stone in the circles.

         Sophia, with long stringy auburn hair, is dressed in a modest white Greek toga with a long wide blue sash wrapped from the top of her right shoulder down to her left thigh and returning up across her back where it is attached to her right shoulder with a gold pin. Kassandra walks with Sophia, sometimes up on the narrow sidewalk, sometimes on the quiet street depending on the nature of where her feet decide to carry her. Kassandra with dark black hair to her shoulders is dressed in comfortable white trousers while wearing green a low loosely tied vest that plays peek-a-boo with her still well formed Greek breasts. The two women continued ever consciously along and up the slight rise until coming out of the rocky road’s curve where it meets the cul-de-sac and two closer large bluestones at the outer ring.

         Shortly the two are on the narrow path winding graciously through the stone ring to its center where the earthy path makes a circle around the great tree. Oddly, neither woman looks up but each continues with her eyes mainly focused on the path under the forty foot tall vast canopy of multi-sized straight and knurled limbs ending narrowly with multitudes of good-sized leaves, an unneeded umbrella for the rings. Some call the singular tree a large green bush or a green toadstool as it does have that an uncanny appearance, if viewed from the right angle and distance.

         Sophia glances down at the ruggedly rooted base collar around the tree trunk. One to two inch sized roots gathering down into stony nooks and crannies as it the tree’s rooty hands had the power to grab and pulverize any of the bluestones, no matter what their size, if they so desired to. Wood a master of stone, it seemed an impossible scene but one is never sure when walking in such an unseemingly natural environment. It creates an awkwardness of thought so that the silent passer-by along the way has no idea as to who has power over whom.

         Quickly approaching the northern side of the stone ring the two women see the steps and grand porch that lead to the entrance of serene and seemingly austere one story Doric styled home of their singular mitochondrial Eve, known simply as Mother in her company.”

         The three classical columns stood parallel to one another along the long main hall to the courtyard. The large one story house had a large public reception room as well as a smaller one, plus two other large public rooms for use when needed, two dining rooms with tables, one public and one semi-private, two front bedrooms and two large back rooms and three extra bedrooms on the other side of the courtyard. Each bedroom had a large boarded bed with legs covered with four or five layers of blankets as well as two rooms for adequate storage of portable furniture, mostly various sized stools, chairs, divans and tables for public social comfort of her children.

         This was a last minute invitation. Mother wants to talk. As Mother greets Sophia and Kassandra. Upon entering the unembellished atrium and walking to the right around the impluvium, a shallow dry stone pool to catch the outmoded rainwater. Once beyond the atrium and into the main hall ending at the courtyard Mother quickly leads them to the private chapel on the right.

         This ascetic room was surprising unadorned of personal bust or any reference to the Greek Pantheon. The wall are plain and a light chalky coat of antique white with a light blue trimmed marble floor. A table for ten sat in the center and the outer wall was half round and domed with a hole in the ceiling and a  low round marble tub below to catch the non-existent rainwater. What surprised Sophia and Kassandra the most about the unused, hitherto unknown room was that it had something the rest of the home or any known home did not have, a ceiling graciously curved and arched.

         Mother pulled up a chair on the east side of the table and directed the two women to face her from the west side. The three sat politely and simultaneously.

         Sophia glanced to her left and noted the entryway to the chapel had been silently closed. She had not realized the door existed. She suddenly realized that except for the ceiling this room was the size of an average privacy house each of the Dead was accustom to.

         Mother lips pursed to within an second of a smile as she said, “Today I have substituted this table for my bed.”

         Taken by the scene Kassandra unconsciously responded, “This is a simply the most beautiful tomb I have ever seen.”

         “I never sleep,” confessed Mother. She added, “Even in Elysium I do not have the time.” She paused. “I called you both here because earlier I had a surprise visit from Mario.”

         “Mother, we did not know of this,” replied Sophia more anxiously than she wished.

         “He had questions about the Dead who are not Greek. He demanded to know if I am the Mother of all living human beings, even the Egyptians and Persians and others far away who worship other gods.”

         “It does seem strange that we see no references to any gods and goddesses in this room. Most of us have a totem of one kind or another that we have chiseled or carved or found somewhere about in a private place,” said Sophia.

         “Mine is a simple wooden cross beneath my bed, my attempt to show attachment to the divine order of the four winds,” cited Kassandra.

         “I did not know that, Kassandra,” said Sophia.

         “It is private,” she quickly yet rather humbly replied.

         “Why did you mention it then?” questioned Mother.

         “It seemed important to do so. It is the truth whether it is private or not.”

         Mother’s faced opened a genuine smile. “That is why I called you both here this afternoon, to talk about the truth.”

***

Notes

        Mid-morning and most of the household chores are done. Carol is working on her Sudoku in the paper and Jadah the cat is sunning herself in the east living room window. All appears well.

         I am thankful scene five is finished, at least for now. Scene six, will it be with Mother and Mario?

         No, boy, it won’t. We need to show some aspect of scene five as reinforcement for it being there so we are going to Zeus and his discussion with Athena.

         Oh. I was hoping to get back in with human characters, I mean, even though they are dead they have their humanity, something I can identify with. The Greek Pantheon are not a group I am familiar with, nor do I want to be. They may hold human characteristics but there is something about Olympus that is ‘naturally’ out of my league, even in a fiction. I ready though, it sounds as though it is needed, so I am for getting it done.

         Doctor’s appointment at one-thirty. Relax a bit, then go to chapter four and we can begin. – Amorella.

         In checking your email you found a note from Doug Goss as you sent him a preview of scene five. Here is what he said.

Dick,

I have read you email. Sounds good to me. Especially when you see that all the observed galaxies seem to be located on structures that remind me of a giant artery system, Could just as easily be a tree. I will see if I can find an article on the structure and send it to you. Dark matter seems to only exist in this structure.

Regards

Doug 

Evidence of Dark Matter

Dick,

This [above] is a 3d map of the known galaxies. Dark matter is believed to exist only in this structure.

Doug

**

         You are excited that the analogy in scene five is acceptable from a scientist’s perspective.

         You understate my excitement, Amorella. I am continually amazed that you dig this stuff out of my head and my imagination. I am ecstatic that it works. It is a verification that reason is prevailing over madness, that is the most important thing.

         Too much theatre, orndorff. If you move into madness, I move out. These books are not about madness. I know where you are coming from on this, relax. You have been certified sane more than once. Post and get back to your email session. – Amorella. 

        You finished scene six before Castle. Post and relax. – Amorella. 

Scene 6

         Athena found Zeus sitting on the bottom of white marble steps beneath his throne chair. With determination always emanating from her plum-tainted irises, she followed Zeus’ eyes and sat down beside him.

         “You called.”

         “Something is not right. Look straight up. See. A microscopic piece of the sky navel is missing.”

         Athena stood as if to give the area a more singular inspection. “I agree,” she said. “A piece is missing.”

         Zeus asked in confidence, “How can this be?”

         Athena was struck by his sudden honesty as she plied the information into her multi-dimensional mind. “No lesser god or goddess would have reason to make a mischief of this sort.”

         “That is my thinking. We are a self-surviving family, a pantheon that serves these Greek and like thinking humans well.”

         She asked, “Could your parents, Cronus and Rhea have escaped Tartarus?”

         “Hades says not. He would have known,” disclosed Zeus.

         “They were rightly cast off.”

         He smiled warmly at his daughter, “Rebellions are sometimes needed. I had no choice if I was going to represent law and wisdom.”

         And so much more, thought Athena in a twist of humor. She said, “Nyx must be responsible. She is the daughter of Chaos.”

         “The goddess of Night? She is one of the most ancient to stir from Creation. Her children were Sleep (Hypnos( and Retribution (Nemesis) as well as Death (Thanatos).”

         “True, three of her children indeed,” agreed Athena.

         “Death. This may be the reason. With their attempt at rebellion in Elysium.”

         “Retribution. Night wants retribution.”

         “This is sound thinking.”

         “A hypothesis, Zeus. You will need proof to remain just.”

         “If the Dead return to Earth, to the Living, Night will be out of balance with the Earth.”

         “Night is a sister of the Earth (Gaia).”

         “Alas, we are all family. We are created and worn by incestal tragic,” said Zeus in dismay.

         Athena replied sympathetically, “From one, many. Our Creation was a Necessity, Zeus.”

         “Chaos was first. What could have come before the first?”

         “Nothing. Chaos was nothing,” injected Athena.

         “It is not reasonable,” said Zeus. “Chaos had to have a parent, a Creator.”

         “We are Immortals. Perhaps we are the Parent of Chaos.”

         “I am held up a tree here. Common.”

         “My Lord, you are Master here. You lead the original rebellion and won so that Olympus might exist.”

         “Could a mightier god than I exist?”

         “It is not wise to think on such things, Father Zeus. Ease your mighty mind.”

         “Our immediate problem is Night and her children. Why would they need a piece of immortal sky navel gold?”

         “I cannot imagine beyond my own navel,” muttered Zeus as he watched his favorite daughter Athena fade into the Olympian air.

***

Notes & a Drafts of Scenes 4 & 5 of Chapter Four

         Last night, before sleep, I realized I did not need to spend my time studying tree anatomy for the book. I was thinking ‘literal’ tree when it is made of thought and light. Tree cellular structure will not be important in that.

         No, but you can make use of certain aspects such as cross section of trunk tree layers, dead bark, inner bark that transports food down, the cambium layer between the bark and wood which increases the tree diameter (annual rings, large pores, which carry water up to the leaves), center wood (heartwood) used for storage.

         Interlocking tissue of branch and trunk tissue, a branch collar which is part of the trunk and holds the branch base. Leaves on every branch must produce enough food to feed itself.

         The roots develop and survive where there is oxygen and moisture, most active roots are in the top three feet of soil. Sometimes roots have graft unions, which is what you see in the branches. This material is googled from ‘Consumer Horticulture/Trees/Plant Fact Sheets’. It is enough for our purposes.

         This seems like a lot when the content of the tree is thought and light.

         You have to take the tree characteristics through the analogy to make it appear soundly reasonable as an analogy.

         What is the food?

         Boundless passion, fervor, enthusiasm – being acted on by, in this case, ‘governable’ rather than ungovernable external agents or forces – according to the dictionary.

         While in the bath it hit you that the tree is in a cistern or well, that it is cultivated by passion and other elements of reason and feelings. We can just let it go at that. A well on all sides round and having no bottom or top. In the middle grows the tree, an energy of thought and light, a glowing filament, if you will for a well-like lantern.

Scene 4

         Mario sat in contemplation on a simple wooden chair on the dry bank of the Styx following the stone block construction of the temple gate in the distance. I wonder why it is that dead, we still find time for sleep? What makes sleep a necessity Here? The old myths have not been fully correct, suppose we get to the other side of the Styx and find more Dead. Egyptians, perhaps.

         No one seems to ask where the other Dead are, those of other cultures. Birds of a feather flock together. No birds here though except the ones we see through our life’s memory. Suddenly the thought, Mother must know. Mother must know where the other Dead are. I will go see her myself.

Scene 5

            This is the Supervisor. No one else will do here.

While Mario ventures his way up Eleusis Street to Mother’s home I will show a little spirited adventure myself.

         Readers may wonder on the framework for these four novels with two beyond. In the twenty-first century people like to know where they are coming from and where they are going. As these books are bound in document, so is all life and potential life bound.

         First, picture, if you would, a well of reflective glass on all sides round, boundless without top and bottom. A glowing filament of unorthodox thought and light shaped as a well rooted, tall trunked, heavily branched tree with a full leafed canopy sets centered within the interior glassy parchment giving an outwardly distanced appearance of a strange surrealistic lantern anchored by unimaginable Angelic-like Reason and Passion, both cemented and solidified by shear enthusiastic Will.

         The gigantic wood-like root system feeds from the otherwise empty appearing well. Nourishment flows from roots to leaves and from leaves back to roots. When a leaf can no longer support itself, it dies. If many leaves on the branch die, the branch dies. The trunk, or the filament center, does not flicker.

         The trunk and branches are made up of dimensional layers based on the number of representative rings accumulated through the increase the tree and subsequent branch diameter.

         Put into an earthly proportion, this tree has a trunk some six feet thick and the massive lower branches of more than one and a half foot in diameter begin with the branch’s collar built within the trunk at four feet up. The branching is spacious but entanglement occurs when some branches find their way to naturally graft from a lower limb to a higher one and still produce smaller upward and outward growing branches. The height of the canopy of well proportioned leaves is some forty feet.

         Standing under this giant bushy tree and looking up one can observe one particular limb of some two inches in diameter growing from a massive bottom limb bend outwardly naturally and then back in, grafting into a higher trunk produced limb some six inches thick. It has the appearance of a long handle on a bus or train which one might use to steady herorhimself and pull herorhimself onto the vehicle.

         Towards the middle of this oddly grafted branch is a smaller one two feet long and thin with three small but growing leaves fanned out on its tip. It could be snapped from the grafted branch without much thought, but it would not be wise to do, if it could be done at all. It is true the tiny branched leaves would hardly be noticed if missing, but these leaves are noticed like delicate flowers, and observed it is, as is each leaf on this particular filament of a tree shaped with and by thought and light.

         One of the three fanned leaves on the twig, the one on the right, is the universe as you know it, but from the outside as I see it. Each leaf is a universe, a direct connection with woody appearing branches and large tall trunk and a deep and wide root system. Permanent Time is built in the growth of the tree, otherwise, time is relative.

A tree leaf can have a reflection (mirror image) or a bilateral symmetry, two halves, a right and left. And, in these books at least, a universe can have a similar dispensation. Much this comes to play in examples scattered throughout the connected series of six books.

Now, back to the story at hand, part of which is understanding the reasoning roots and relativity in light of these heartansoulanmind-ed  Dead.

***