26 February 2014

Notes - simple humanity / happenstance and translucence / (final) Dead 21 / the Piper / Glenna Gooding Zarbaugh

         Shortly after noon, local time. This morning Rich G. sent you a short note on an advertisement that touches your humanity and you sent it on to friends and on to Facebook for your friends also. Now you want to share it with your friends and readers of this blog because to you it focuses on what it is to be human in life and also after physical death. Why, because friendship you can take with you. In these books friendship is a necessity. Is this not so, orndorff? – Amorella

         1224 hours. It is. I write fiction though. I agree friendship is important in life and after physical death too. I don’t know how it is important but I understand the world to be this way, at least a little bit. But I also think friendship may have courses that we cannot know, courses with bridges. That’s how I, as a romantic see it.

** **

A friend sent this to me. This is such an advertisement. Such simple humanity. I hope you enjoy it too.  - rho



** **
         Post. - Amorella

         1249 hours. We are about to go out to Chipotle/Panera for lunch but I forgot about a theme word for chapter twenty. I am thinking ‘soul’ or ‘souls’ but it appears too obvious.

         How about ‘Happenstance’? – Amorella

         1252 hours. Yes. I like this very much. Thank you, Amorella.

         Post. - Amorella

         You had lunch, but surprise, Carol wanted to go to Longhorn. Once there you ordered two their special one dinners, an appetizer, asparagus with dip, Carol had salmon and you had renegade steak; she had sweet potato with veggies and a salad; you have a loaded baked potato and mushrooms and onions for the steak. No dessert. You are now at Pine Hill Lakes Park and Carol is doing a walk. You have yet to do your exercises today.

         1502 hours. Jen (our server) suggested the appetizer, which was delicious. Carol got her salmon and I got my steak. We were/are both fully satisfied. It is quite pleasant being at the park once again. It is cold but not much wind, and it’s sunny. Earlier today I had an errand to run into Blue Ash and had the Honda washed and cleaned it up inside and out. Someone keyed the right front fender, which I had not noticed because of the dirt. When it’s warmer I told Carol I’d have the paint touched up; it has several paint scratches and a paint scraping on the lower right bumper that I caused by slightly tapping a large rock I did not see from the mirrors when backing up at a restaurant a year or two ago. Once that’s done I’ll have the car cleaned inside and out at the P&G car wash. It’ll look like a much newer car, well at least it will look a metallic green classic 2005 six cylinder Honda Accord EX with the tan interior, leather and wood-like trim at the center dash compartment (which was rather rare back then) and on the four armrests. The seats have butt warmers in front. We closed down the satellite radio but it still has a good sound system with subwoofer (we listen mostly to 103.5 oldies), and it only has 63,365 miles on it. If we don’t slow down on the new car it will have 20,000 miles on the Toyota the first year. That was and is not our plan so it is setting in the garage for a while. The Honda has always been a fun car to drive but I am still watching the miles per gallon (it averages 24.9 to 25 m/g for a year’s worth of driving). We love our automobiles.

         Carol has returned from her walk and you are presently parked on the lower north lot somewhat in the shade of mostly leafless trees. Patches of snow are scattered about in the opportune places; this suggests that Spring weather is not entirely right around the corner. Carol is looking at a new Good Housekeeping magazine and let’s go over this last chapter and come up with a likely candidate from its theme word. – Amorella

         1549 hours. I have read the chapter. I like the phrase “the back of the beyond” because Merlyn is reliving life in his dream from the Dead. And, I like Pouch because it concludes with “welcome aboard”.  ‘Beyond’ does not fit because it appears a cliché in context.

         How about translucence? – Amorella

         Translucence works. 

         Odd, but I do not see the whole picture in using the word but I like the sense of semitransparent.

         You miss the point, young man. I was thinking, “light allowed” with the added personalized pun in reference to ‘Lady Allowyn” in book two. – Amorella

         1602 hours. Sometimes in your amusement you do me in, Amorella.

         Post when it is convenient. - Amorella


         1707 hours. Dead 21 reads more easily with the shorter paragraphs. I don’t know how cricket it is grammar-wise but I like it better.

         Add and post. – Amorella

***

(final) The Dead 21 ©2014, rho GMG.One

            Merlyn awoke from stone thinking, the Living do not understand how the Second Rebellion began when it did, let alone how it ended. How do I best explain these unseen and unknown events to the Living?

            In short order Merlyn had rolled his spectral eyes back into his spectral head to discover he was about to have a discussion with Glevema and Panagiotakis right in his own sanctuary.

            Within from the door way to his hut Merlyn saw the oak billiard table rise from the stone boulder just as he had risen from the stony sleep of the Dead. Merlyn moved, gaining confidence as he glanced down from the height of the giant oak to the table below to see two balls, each on a cue mark, and an oak cue stick lying on the table green near the white cue ball and on the other cue mark the black 8 ball.

            Merlyn blinked. I am the stick, Takis is the white and Mother is the 8 ball. The pockets shift. One pocket connects to the heart, another to the soul, and a third to the mind; the other three are random existential nightmares. My cue tip needs to strike old Takis and send him to lightly kiss Mother and send her towards the far right corner, estimated Merlyn.

            Before I ask my question I must strike with the cue ball and drive her into her most focused heartansoulanmind corner of the moment. I can only hope to drive Mother into heart's pocket for a truthfully honest response.

            Semi-conscious of the timing Merlyn struck the cue ball, which, as the physics would have it, tapped the 8 ball a bit further and harder to the left side of the ball than he had anticipated.

            The white ball rolled to the left and almost scratched in the far corner pocket, and in Merlyn's mind the 8 ball unfolded an almost unlikely destined path to the left corner pocket and dropped in. 'Not good,' concluded Merlyn, 'A faery's trick,' added his struck heart.

            His understood questions on the Second Rebellion had drilled into Mother's soul and into his heart instead. "I should have stopped with Takis," grumbled Merlyn, "I should have let the cue ball run the table." 

            The Victorian styled oak billiard table collaborated into mist and sunk into the stone bolder. Merlyn stood alone with Mother three arm's length away, boldly staring at him, as almost all mothers are wont to do with a naughty child near hand.

             Mother asked, "Do you think I did not see through your tactics of using my grandfather to soften my soul?"

            "I was aiming at your heart, dear Mother of all mothers. I see I missed my mark."

            The soul tends to show an armor of indifference, thought Mother while considering a response to Merlyn's initial question. "Nuclear weaponry," declared Mother, and all those dead from murdering in political conflicts and two major wars during the first half of the twentieth century.”

            She continued, “Even my first friends among the Dead, the marsupial humanoid Dead, pleaded for a short-ordered Second Rebellion to address the parental anxieties of both species for their living children."

            "The Living do not know about the marsupial humanoids other than my fictional stories, Mother. How do I turn this into story form?"

            "You were sorted out, Merlyn. I assume you are up to the job," replied Mother rather huffily. "Once the marsupial humanoids actually landed on Earth and tragically died in secret attempt to present themselves in July, 1947; their Dead decided it was time to re-introduce themselves to Mother.

            The reasonableness of Eisenhower’s Farewell Speech became the trigger -- the madness of a world of industrial-military complexes would eventually create a horrific global social circumstance in which humanity both collectively and individually would have no choice but to shut itself off soulanmind-wise, Merlyn.

            This is something you can certainly understand and sell to the Living; individual and collective humanity essentially becoming a closed camp within, the breadth of the human heart struck with the cryptic thought that work alone can make you free." She paused to let this sink in, and then added, "Merlyn, how would we many Dead grow and flourish under such heartless conditions of power and consequence?

            Subdued or not, a reckoning would come, ruminated Merlyn, as surely as I, one of the Dead, walk with or without consequence among these presently Living. The Second Rebellion ended while I have been here, in two places at once, among the Living and among the Dead.

            Even I, Merlyn, do not know how or why this came to be. But who really knows the how's and why's of any rebellions or wars. Freedom, what is freedom without the fullness in one's heartansoulanmind?

***


          Time for a break, orndorff. You are suddenly in a rush to complete this chapter, but for what? You do not have the desire to learn how to set up the manuscript for an ebook, but that is what you will have to do. We are not setting up the run off draft for final copy to meet printed publication standards. You don’t want to do that and you have good reasons for putting this work out free for at least a limited amount of time for those who bought the books and want the revision this should be free, and free for anyone else during that time. Let’s make it ninety days. After that you charge for the book. We’ll set the price later, but readers who want the book will have to pay for it just like they pay for anything else. Nothing is free, boy, and neither are you. – Amorella

         1726 hours. I am surprised at your tone.


         I am not surprised by your arrogance. No human being provides a service for free. And, those who think they do are not looking closely enough. Post. - Amorella

        1730 hours. I disagree. Some devote their lives in/for service to others. I think you are being harsh.

          People pay one way or another. Everyone pays the Piper, boy. You are no exception. - Amorella

        You ate cereal for supper and watched “NCIS” and “Person of Interest” as well as the national news. Cathy called and you have further family funeral services on Friday afternoon. The aged mother of her fifty-five year old child, Jane, who died last week, died today, apparently of stress or as Cathy said, “of a broken heart.” Glenna in her eighties was not well before Jane died and now presently she too is also at peace that is your hope. – Amorella

         2132 hours. Glenna’s mother was my Great Aunt Betty Freeman Gooding. Betty's sister, Elizabeth Mae Freeman Schick was my grandmother. My Aunt Ruth Ann is Glenna’s first cousin. Glenna has lived in or near Lewis Center, Ohio most if not all of her life. She is outlived by her husband Kenny Zarbaugh. who is not well, and their daughter, Linda. This has been a sad week for the family. I feel particularly bad for Kenny, Linda and Aunt Ruthie. 


         Enough for tonight, boy. Post. - Amorella

25 February 2014

Notes - Lewis Center yesterday / Morning today / (final) Grandma 20 / (final) Pouch 20



         Yesterday, Monday, you attended a sudden family funeral with Carol and your sister Cathy in Lewis Center. Afterwards you picked up Kim and the four of you ate at Bun’s Restaurant in Delaware. Carol had a chicken roll up; Kim, lasagna, Cathy, a chicken salad and you had an old childhood favorite, liver; onions and bacon and dark gravy on mash potatoes. You dropped Kim off and saw Paul as he was home from the hospital then you dropped off Cathy and came home. In the evening you watched the two hour conclusion to this year's D. Abbey and tonight's "Castle". 

        Time is moving towards noon. You have done your exercises but little else but care for the Jadah cat whom needed warmth and petting. She is small and bunny-like soft, which you find cute and cuddly. – Amorella

         1155 hours. I did shovel most of the driveway. We had a dusting to an inch depending. All the driveways and street appear clear now though the city also spread salt early this morning also. 

        1325 hours. It is time for me to kick in and work on Grandma 20. 

        Go to it. Soon Carol will be getting ready to go to lunch. Post. - Amorella

       You bought a Subway lunch to share, brought it home and watched last night's "The Blacklist" and "Intelligence". Then Carol napped, a rare occurrence. 


         1809 hours. I have slightly revised Grandma 20.

         Add and post. Remember we shall look at these one more time, on paper and then make the final corrections where needed. – Amorella

***
(final) Grandma's Story 20 ©2014, rho G.M.G.One

Fifteen years have gone by and Criteria and Renaldo never consummated their relationship or married. They had become partners, story gatherers. In their travels, Criteria had taken Renaldo to Rome, Athens, Jerusalem and Cairo.

Criteria feels almost all narratives are derived from one original story, just as she senses all people are descendants of an Adam and Eve. Renaldo thinks the accounts are spawned by your spiritual nature. He doesn’t agree with Criteria that a Master First Story existed. He parallels his thinking with Pythagoras who noted some numbers are special and thus held sacred and that, likewise, some stories are sacred. The two continually discuss these issues but never argue; secretly fearing of offending the other to the point it would destroy their extended soul-felt friendship.


The two, on horseback, are on the road from Rome to the Abbey of Saint Maurice and from the abbey they were to head north to Notre Dame du Clarier, the Cathedral of Sion in Valais.

"The Bishops of Sion and of the Abbey of Saint Maurice are rumored of creating a speculation," said Criteria amusingly, “I wonder what this is about?”

“A sin, no doubt,” mirrored Renaldo's chuckle. “If there is a good story, a sin is involved.” He had been assessing the founding his own story about their surviving the previous night's unusual tornado, but he couldn't conjure a sin to carry the wind of it.

            Reading his face Criteria declared, “In last night's cyclonic tempest, God have taken our bodies and souls.”

            Renaldo responded, “I thought that. Aristotle, Pythagoras and Plato made allowances for the soul's survival -- a method by which the soul may travel from one body to another.”

            Criteria joked, “Metatempsycosis, modernized ideas from the Gnostics but not Rome.”

            Renaldo abruptly noted, “The Church says the body is resurrected, that the body is not separate from the soul.”

            “Pythagoras said the body was divided from the soul and that the soul could transmigrate from one body to another." A pause to a point, “I like Pythagoras because he sometimes taught to an all woman audience, that one of the philosophical monastic orders was all women and they held their property in common.”

            “We hold our property in common too, Criteria,” added Renaldo in laughter. “We are a monastic order of two.”

            “We are,” she said and snuggled in close. She added affectionately, “We are one in our hearts.”

            Renaldo warmly kissed her forehead, adding, "and our souls." They quickly fell asleep in each other’s arms.


            Criteria stirred at dawn, “Renaldo, are you awake?”

            “I was thinking about the soul and perhaps it is possible that an angel would hold of them if we both had died," said an obviously awake Renaldo.

            Criteria sat up in interest. “How, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?”

            Smiling contentedly he said, “Because an angel holds each of us in his hand?”

            After bread and fresh water they climbed on the horses and continued north on the road from Rome to St. Maurice.


            That evening after a meal of stewed goat meat and onions at the White Cross Inn the Frank, Comets del Acqs III, interrupted them.

            His coat of arms clearly visible from a chain, he asks, “Good pilgrims, do you mind if I sit?”

            Both stood in politeness, “Kind Lord, of course not, replied Renaldo. “We heard you were staying at the inn. It is an honor, sire.”

            “You are a legend, sire,” professed Criteria, “as were your great, great grandfather and great, great grandmother, King Pharamond and Queen Argotta.

            Comets del Acqs eyed her carefully and commented, “I think you are a princess in disguise.”

            Criteria set a standard aristocratic smile, saying in Greek, “I am but a simple pilgrim, kind sir.”

            “And a scholarly one who knows her native language,” he replied. “I know your father and one of your brothers.”

            Renaldo gently interrupted, “Kind Lord, do you have a story for our scribing? I am sure Rome would enjoy the story from an illustrious a Lord as yourself.”

            He sat amused. Criteria and Renaldo listened. “I have a story. My grandfather had a daughter, Viviane of Avallon del Acqs. My great, great aunt married Prince Taliesin, the Arch Druid.”

            “Blasphemy in Rome, sire,” responded Renaldo while assessing the titled name, Viviane.

            Comet replied bluntly, “But not with the Franks, pilgrim. This is not Rome.”

            Criteria touched Comets del Acqs sleeve. “Indeed, Sir, it is not."

            “You are your father’s daughter, that I can see and I note that Pythagoras rests on the extra chair.

            “Plato and Aristotle too,” added Renaldo. But, he pondered, who is this Viviane?

            Criteria quickly remarked, “Renaldo is right, Plato, Aristotle and Pythagoras -- our two Greek columns and a pyramid,” as she thankfully observed Comet del Acqs boisterous grin.

***

          You watched the evening news then had still excellent tasting leftover Arizona turkey soup for supper. You have toyed with Diplomatic Pouch Twenty and have it working better, at least you feel it is. – Amorella

         2046 hours. I do, but I am not completely satisfied. Each of these segments is a short story or a glimpse into the dreams that are in Merlyn’s reality. I do not know if I am conveying this properly in words. In a way each segment (in my mind) is as a short story in Chaucer’s Tales. His stories however carry a moral weight that these carry in character and intensity of spirit. I am not wording this properly either. I don’t know why I have this obsession to attempt to communicate with written words when I cannot do so orally either. There is shear frustration from time to time to realize that I am not so excellent a writer as I would like to be. It is too long of my life, forty years or more, perhaps fifty years that I have continually absorbed some of the best of world and English literature. Words that I love and have great passion for, but when I write I run into these cul-de-sacs and out again realizing that I cannot write as the greats. I don’t know why, deep inside that I feel I can write as they.

         Your defiance at the odds and arrogance, that’s what it comes down to boy. - Amorella

         2100 hours. You speak directly Amorella. I can accept this. I have to accept this as a truth. What else? Nothing comes to mind in my own defense on the subject in context.

         Add your Diplomatic Pouch Twenty and we will call it a day. Post. – Amorella

***

(final) Diplomatic Pouch 20 ©2014, rho GMG.One

            Morning and Blake lay in bed mulling over his thoughts. These people know no more than we on such things though they are twenty thousand years ahead of us in their knowledge, society and technology. These people are no wiser than we; otherwise they wouldn't have been stumbling around in our initial meetings. Friendly, Hartolite and even Yermey appear polite, kind and mannerly. We can be polite, kind and mannerly also. They are no better than we are when it comes to knowing who we are and why we are here.


            In a short time Blake knocked on Pyl and Justine's door. Within minutes the three were walking to breakfast. No sooner than they were settled with coffee, tea, milk, juice and bowls of cereal that Hartolite and Friendly walked into the room with Yermey following shortly thereafter.

            Blake quickly drew the conclusion that Pyl was attracted to Yermey for his mind and for no other reason. Blake also realized that Justin had not the hint of any jealousy so he dismissed his dark thought. With a lull in conversation Blake asked, "Last night we were talking about the soul. I am interested in your concept; do you people think of the soul as intellectual and emotional charged as we think of the mind and the heart?"

            Friendly smiled, "These matters are perhaps easier to speak on in the freshness of morning.” She glanced at her comrades and continued, “we think of the soul as remaining neutral and immortal though not the same as Godofamily is immortal."

            Hartolite added. "Our species and your own have similar thoughts on souls, hearts and minds. Each thinks of them separately and having no material weight and seemingly taken up no space within our physical selves. That is if you consider the mind to be a spiritual-like place beyond the thought processes of the brain."

            "We discern the heartansoulanmind to be in our friends also; just as you do," reinforced Hartolite, “each is in our individual selves but also spiritually communal.
           
            Blake commented somewhat in dismay, "You are some twenty thousand years ahead of us and you are no further along? Last night, Yermey said that you have machinery that can detect a person's soul."
           
            "This is easier to do in our home language and loses something in translation. Our machinery cannot quantify the soul.”

            “We would never think to weight the heartansoulanmind,” muttered Yermey in the dullness of the presentation. "It is madness to think on such a point."

            Pyl touched Yermey's hand in compassion, "It is madness; this is not how we three imagine the soul. We don't find the mind or even the soul as nearly as mysterious as the human heart." Her sentence ended with a softly humane smile.

            "That is another subject," commented Justin, “first, what can we say about the soul that we all agree with?

            "We can say," declared Yermey, "that the heartansoulanmind is immortal."

            Justin commented, "You continue to say heart and soul and mind like it is one word."
           
            "We look at it as if it were one so when speaking in English it flows as one word," responded Friendly politely.

            With strong interest Justin asked, "How did you come on that?" He thought, Yermey make one’s heart and soul and mind sound like a trinity.

            Friendly added, "I think it is our physical pouches that make the initial differences in our species, that is, these provide a genuine difference on how we view the world." She glanced to Yermey for continuation.
           
            He said, "Early on we were just like you. we had our families of hunters and gatherers, our tribes and our separate territories."

            "Particularly when we felt we were stuck on a single planet," interrupted Hartolite.

            "Yes," replied Yermey with grumbled voice and eyes on Hartolite, "when we were on a single planet." He paused with wide eyes and open thought and said, "Growing pouched is a community. We are heartansoulanmind first. Growing pouched is as much psychological as it is physical in our species. Our small groups evolved from the pouch concept. This group evolves into our species as a family unit. We are connected physically through sharing, just as our individual heartsanminds share an individual soul, an immortal shell," Yermey paused to gather himself from talking too fast, "to us, the shell is a pouch, you see."

            Being open, frank and a bit irritated with his dogmatic style, Pyl looked Yermey in the eye saying, "I have a womb, not a pouch. What's that worth to you Yermey?”

***

23 February 2014

Notes - 2 days worth - (final) Brothers 20

22 February 2014

         Late morning. You are waiting on Carol. Your patience has gotten better over the last forty-seven some years that you have known the woman. She is a continual lesson for you, and of course it works the other way too, not on punctuality so much as other, many other things. Brought a smile while you are waiting, huh. – Amorella

         1128 hours. Being late was one of Mother’s major crimes. Of course Dad had multitudes and multitudes of such petty vices also. So do we all.

         Creating self-effacing humor where there is no doubt keeps you fresh for the other honesties. – Amorella

         I know where I am.

         Where is that, boy?  - Amorella

         Touché.

         You might as well use your time. Work on The Brothers Twenty, as you will. – Amorella

23 February 2014

         Mid-afternoon. You are waiting for Carol at the Kings Mills Road Kroger’s after your trip from Chuck E. Cheese in Dublin. Everyone appeared to have a good time particularly the kids. Grandma Kyum Paik was there, Joey and Kathy with Lilly and Max; Kim’s best friend her Miami dorm roommate and north end Columbus apartment mate, Stacey, her husband Erin and their young son, Everret, Kim, Paul, Owen, Brennan the birthday boy, Grandma Carol and you, Papa. Everyone shared three pizzas plus a decorated chocolate cake from Schneider’s Bakery in Westerville.

         1432 hours. It was fun and good to see Grandma P. as well as everyone else – especially Stacey, I haven’t seen her to talk with her since Kim’s wedding 11 May 2007. The same day and hour that Craig and Alta’s son Erik and Mary Kay had their first son Jack.

         2102 hours. I have Brothers 20 completed. It is interesting in that I had to read it a couple of times, then I just toyed around with the conclusion like it was a piece of literary entertainment, and behold I came up with the shadowy conclusion, which I like, but I doubt anyone else sees themselves as one of the walking Dead like I do.

         You mean like they are not fully alive, like you are, right? – Amorella

         No. I don’t know what I mean.

         Then clarify yourself boy. – Amorella

         2106 hours. I don’t think we live as human as a life as we could.

         You are being a romantic idealist. – Amorella

         I think our species is more elevated than we give ourselves credit for. It is as if we don’t want to force ourselves to grow as culturally enriched as we could be.

         Now you are depressing. Who is going to force whom? – Amorella

         2111 hours. I don’t have anything else to say. – No wonder this planet is a graveyard.

         You are name-calling the planet? I thought name-calling was a logical fallacy boy. – Amorella

         At least you make me smile, Amorella. I’ll give you credit for that. The darkest of humor usually has a smile at its deepest point.

         Add The Brothers Twenty and post. – Amorella

***
(final) The Brothers 20 ©2014, rho GMG.One

            Robert said to Connie, "It looks like a day of rain. Let's go to a movie."

            She nodded in agreement, saying, "I'll have to wash my hair. I'll call Cyndi first to see if they want to go. What do you want to see?"

            "Quartet" is re-playing at the Drexel on Main, We all enjoyed the film; let's go see it again."

           
            Late morning and the four are sitting in the northwest corner of Ernie's Grill, Uptown Riverton, looking through the varied sheets of rain to the perky front window of Patricia's Flowers pressing on the staid white marbled Citizen's Bank directly on the other side of State Street. The sisters were finishing their classic salads, mixed fruit cups and sharing a side of sweet potato fries while Robert had finished his an Italian Combo and Richard his Cuban Panini. Both were nibbling on their remaining sides of barbeque chips while waiting on Connie and Cyndi to finish. Each had unsweetened ice tea with lemon with Richard sipping on his second glass of caffeine free diet cola.

            He asked, "Anyone for a Graeter's ice cream?"
           
            After the movie," suggested Cyndi, "we can hardly finish our salads."

            "That's because you ate the sweet potato fries first."

            "And, you didn't even share them with us," grumbled Robert.

            "You could have ordered your own," quipped Connie with a smile.

            "It is hard to believe that Dustin Hoffman was born in 1937," noted Cyndi to Robert.

            Smirking contentiously from his wife's remark, Rob quickly smiled towards Cyndi, "Not when you think back on The Graduate, Hoffman looked pretty young when it came out."

            Richard chuckled in response and added, "We were young back in 1967."

            "You were a quarter century," comment Connie and now we are all moving on to three-quarters of a century."

            Richard continued, "Speaking of three-quarters of a century, how old is Maggie Smith? She plays the grand lady Jean Horton in Quartet, and the old Dowager of Grantham in Downton Abbey."

            Cyndi corrected, "She is the Countess of Grantham."

            "Whatever. How old is Maggie?"

            "She was born 28 December 1934," said Robert Glancing down at his iPhone, Robert said, "She was born 28 December 1934."

            Connie commented wholeheartedly, "Maggie puts her heart and soul into her work. She is a wonderful actress." All ardently agreed.

            Richard asked, "I can understand her heart, Connie, but how does she put her soul into her work? How does anyone put the soul into anything?"

            "It's her enthusiasm, Richard, her passion."

            Cyndi quickly followed suit, "Her quintessence."

            Robert checked his iPhone, "Mostly I get references to the song, the music. I looked up 'phrase - heart and soul' and it is still reference to the music." He paused and tapped in more letters. "There is "Brevity is the soul of wit,' and 'wearing one's heart on his sleeve', but that is not what we are talking about here."

            "Love powers the heart," suggested Connie, "but what powers the soul?"

            "Passion powers the soul," stated Robert as if it were a fact.

            "We need a definition first," claimed Richard.

            "No, let's use a thesaurus, responded Robert. "Here, I have it. 'Spirit, Embodiment or Quintessence." He sat surprised, "Cyndi's right, quintessence."

            "What's the difference between one's spirit and a ghost?" asked Connie cynically.

            Richard was readying a sarcastic response when Cyndi swiftly connected the two, "Like the Holy Spirit and the Holy Ghost."

            "We have argued this before," said Richard, "but let's say I agree with you that you have a soul. Let's say the soul is without mass but that it has energy and carries information."

            "What kind of information?" asked Robert.

            "Let's say it is electromagnetic in some bazaar quantum mechanical way."

            "Richard," said Cyndi, "let's don't follow Alice down the rabbit hole."

            "No, I mean like light and radio waves can carry information. Perhaps this physics can store a human self-awareness and memory. Perhaps the soul is a natural entity? Why does it have to be supernatural?

            Rob added, "Scientists can read our thoughts with signatures of the signals generated by firing neurons. Whether this can be worked into a container or soul I don't know."

            "I don't think of a person's heart and soul and the physics of light in the same breath," noted Cyndi.

            “The soul is supposed to be our spirit,” added Connie. “It’s our inner self, it doesn’t have to be supernatural.”
            Richard grumbled, “We’ll never define the soul scientifically then?”

            “It’s intangible, Richie,” said Cyndi.

            Richard commented, “In my fiction, it’s a shell.”

            “So are you, Richie,” toyed Connie.

            “He’s a shell-game,” laughed Robert. They all chuckled light-heartedly.

            “This is just another stage,” piped Richard. “We are all a piece of entertainment.”

            “For whom?” asked Robert, “the Dead?”

***