Mid-morning. After breakfast you were reading the newest Discover (November 2014) and two articles caught your fancy. The first is “Alien Protection Plan” on page fifty-six about the real “Men in Black”, a woman named Catharine Conley whose job at present is to protect aliens from human (Earth) contamination.
Some day humans will go to Mars, and you can’t sterilize
a human,” [Alberto] Fairen argues. We are so intertwined with microbes that
biology writer Ed Yong describes himself as “trillions of microbes in a human
shaped sack.”
The other article, “20 Things You Didn’t
Know About Galaxies” on page seventy-four states among other facts: 1. Immanuel
Kant coined the term “island universe” to describe the Milky Way galaxy and 3,
one of the earliest uses of the term Milky Way is Geoffrey Chaucer’s “House of
Fame” in which he liked the galaxy to a celestial roadway. Number 15 states The
Milky Way rotates at about 250 kilometers per second (560,000 miles per hour)
and completes one revolution about every 200 million years. The last rotation
began during the time of the dinosaurs. – Amorella
0954 hours. These articles are very interesting. There is
always something to learn or to be reminded of. As far as Great Merlyn’s Ghost
is concerned carrying trillions of microbes is probably the most important fact
to remember in terms of both humans and marsupial humanoids. Surely
Onesixanzero and Ship machinery can better understand the complexities of this
and have come to the conclusion it is safe for humans to enter marsupial
humanoid space; after all, marsupial humanoids have entered human space more
than once with no human (to date) feeling the ill effects.
Post. - Amorella
After a Wednesday supper
at the pub you completed Chapter Seven. Here are the stats. Post with the draft.
– Amorella
** **
Ch. 7 – Common Core
Words - 3153
Sentences - 250
Words per Sentence – 12.4
Sentences/Paragraph – 2.3
Passive Sentences – 3%
Flesh Reading Ease - 100.0
Flesh-Kincaid
Grade Level – 0.6
** **
1940
hours. Carol is drying her hair as she has a breakfast with retired teacher
friends in the morning. We had a good supper at the Brazenhead tonight. We have
the News to watch and I am sure a DVRed show or two. Here is the Chapter Seven
(near final) draft.
*** ***
SEVEN © 2014 rho, GMG.Two (final) draft
Common
Core
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 7
Neither Here nor There surrounds
Merlyn in a pool of thought –
a nymph’s light, thinks Merlyn. This oncoming spirit appears cut in half by a
thin horizontal blade of spiritual light turning the body into a small replica
of Earth’s moon. Her head is a spinning world of light above the shadowy torso
and rhythmical legs solidifying as nothing before witnessed. The tips of her
ten ghostly toes are miniature-spinning moon lights below – as if she is a
strange heavenly constellation. Perhaps this is a goddess though I have yet to
see one beyond my imagination.
I
have never seen a soul, yet my heart addresses this ghostly spirit a human soul
seemingly detached and foreign to my own. The more casual her soul’s light, the
more vibrant it also appears in the area of the torso, observes Merlyn.
These
dancing wheels, thinks Merlyn. I know these in the memory of the raining spirits.
.
Twelve
human raindrops of equal size whirl one on top and around and under and over of
the others like an elaborate child’s toy. Each dancer of rain floats in a
touching field and each thus becomes disembodied from what it is not.
I
remember these twelve dancers, smiles Merlyn. I observed this event after the
fact, a plausible reality within the confines of this HeavenOrHellBothOrNeither,
as our new spiritual friends like to call this Place of the Dead.
These
original dancers, all shamans from about the ancient world danced above the
River Styx. A sight to behold, I’ll tell you, says Merlyn to himself. These
shamans are by name Ishtar, a woman from Assyria; Enki a high priest from
Babylonia; Jun from China; Amenhotep from Egypt; Amrita, a woman from India;
Teja of the Indo-Europeans; Meir from Israel; Kagami, a woman from Japan;
B’alam from the Central American Olmec; Tiwanaku from High Peru; Dido, a woman
from Phoenicia; and Mother’s first, Panagiotakis from pre-ancient Greece. The
meanings of the Shamans’ given names in no particular order were: Truth; Holy;
Glow; Light; Pharaoh; Immortality; Virgin; Lord; Star; Mirror; Jaguar; and
Center-Stone began to dance.
At
the same instant on Earth a lonely man by the name of Ezekiel looks up in the
air near the river Chebar and reportedly sees: a whirlwind came out of the
north, a great cloud, and a fire enfolding itself, and a brightness was about
it, and out of the midst thereof as the color of amber, out of the midst of the
fire. Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures.
.
“Hello,
Merlyn,” says the spirit beside. “I am called PouchMaster. I cared for a babe
of a marsupial humanoid spirit called in life, Elderfelder. In life she had but
a stub of a brain but her heart carried her and she was taught how to dance by
the elements that hold physics together. There were many witnesses to what was
perceived as a gift from G---D. When I dance Elderfelder dances within even
though she is afar and fully grown and humanely educated to our spiritual
cultures.
“PouchMaster
is a distinctive name for a distinctive member – a shaman you are, I could see
this in your moon-glowing arrival. We were no different in conscious origin
though similar seeds were scattered across the grandness of our shared Milky
Way galaxy.
In less than the blink the spirit of the woman and the spirit of the man form a
refreshed library of mind; developing in both an overlapping of ghostly experience
and study. PouchMaster and Merlyn calmly observe their sanctuaries above the
still quiet waters of the ancient many-named River. The dancing lights move in
darkness as night and day for both also disappear.
.
Within
the Folds of the Dead rests Ezekiel with dead eyes open and heartansoulanmind
in another place where once there was a Voice
from the firmament that was over their heads, when they stood, and had let down their wings. And above the firmament
that was over their heads was the
likeness of a throne, as the appearance of a sapphire stone: and upon the
likeness of the throne was the likeness as the appearance of a man above upon
it. And I saw as the colors of amber, as the appearance of fire round about
within it, from the appearance of his loins even upward, and from the
appearance of his loins even downward, I saw as it were the appearance of fire,
and it had brightness round about. Ezekiel slumbers dreaming, what wheels I
once witnessed in the air were not witnessed alone. The big wheel runs by
faith and the little wheel runs by Grace of G-d.
***
Brothers 7
Each
is sitting across from the other having a medium diet drink and a grilled
burrito at Taco Bell.
Richard
asks, “How have you been sleeping nights?”
“I
wake at three sometimes. Then I go back to sleep or I get up and work on a
project or watch television then go back to bed, comments Robert casually. “I
get at least eight hours of sleep a day; sometimes more depending on my naps.”
“Me
too. I don’t get up at three in the morning though unless a good foreign film
is on. The perspective helps me visualize human characters.”
A
slight smile seeps, “What is a human character compared to one that is not
human?” questions Robert.
“Empathy,”
replies Richard without hesitation.
“We
have empathy, at least to a point. I could have never been a college professor
or a teacher of any kind,” notes Robert.
“Likewise,
I could never have been a surgeon.”
“Our
women were both nurses. Tough head nurses.”
“Same
hospital.”
“Different
floors.”
Richard
asks, “I wonder if the mind has floors?”
“Where’s
this come from?”
“I’m
thinking about levels trying to remember what floors the women were on,”
replies Richard
“The
mind has three levels.”
“I’m
not talking about Freud, the unconscious and all that. I’m talking about the
mind itself. “Your ability to see those last moves this morning shows the
ability of the mind to visualize and to analyze potential chess moves, your own
and mine too.”
“It
is just the training we both have,” says Robert nonchalantly. “You didn’t see
the next move so you took the sure way out with a draw. I would have done the
same.”
“But
you did see the move. What allows you to see it, and not me?” asks Richard.
Robert
munches on the oversized burrito for a moment then smiles and says, “I had the
perspective of being on the other side of the board.”
“What
difference does that make?”
Robert
deadpans the comment, “It wasn’t my move.”
“So
you thought it though because you weren’t focused on it.”
“Not
to win. I wasn’t going to win and was ready to kick myself for not asking for a
draw earlier, but I was white. I thought I might have the advantage.”
Richard
grumbles, “You were waiting for me to make a mistake.”
Robert
laughs, “You did, Richie.”
Richard
concentrates on his burrito, then wads up the papers. “Why doesn’t the mind
have any residue?”
Robert
answers sarcastically, “I don’t know. Why? Let’s see. Maybe it is because it
doesn’t exist. It has no physical existence.”
“So
it has no waste.”
“If
you mean there is no anus of the mind, I have to agree,” smiles Rob.
“But
where does the input come from? What is the mouth of the mind? asks Richard
half humorously.
“The
brain. If the mind exists separate from the brain, it is fed by the brain.”
Robert pauses, “That might work as a metaphor. People say they feed their brain
knowledge, that the brain spits out answers.”
“That
the brain is full of bullshit,” adds Richard.
“Talking
is the anus of the brain. If that is what you are saying I mostly agree,
Richie.”
“Doesn’t
the mind talk too?”
“I
use my mind the most when I am silent and focused.”
“With
a scalpel in hand no doubt,” said Richard.
“No
doubt,” replies Robert. “A sharp blade of polished stainless steel readying for
its first incision.”
“To
get into the mind though, words are used.”
“Or
numbers, or symbols.”
“Which
is sharper a symbol or a metaphor?”
Robert
sits back, finishes his burrito and takes a drink of cola. “You can’t make a
like comparison between a symbol or a metaphor.”
“Okay,
I agree,” retorts Richard with some excitement, “but which is more effective to
working a concept or a thought? In one of your poems, let’s say.”
The
more emotion he clues in Richard’s voice, the more objective Robert becomes.
“Religion and politics use symbols or icons first. Symbols are more effective.”
“That’s
true – the tree as a symbol.”
“The
elephant and the donkey.”
“The
rich or the poor.”
“I
like the tree. It has roots and provides shade.”
“Speaking
of roots,” says Robert, “I told Connie I’d be back by two.”
In
attempted wit Richard says, “Two roots in a single long orgasmic toot.” Both
laugh as they pick up their trays for the trash.
“One
of the afternoon beauties of retirement,” says Robert with more feigned
seriousness in his face than he imagines.
***
Grandma’s
Story 7
“Let’s
refresh the family with this story,” says Grandma. Everyone is connected to the
Dead but other than those recent little attention is paid. However, in these
books the lineage is important to give perspective as well as a reminder that
you will be among those dead one day. Most of the Living aren’t going to have
the time or inclination to wonder what your life was like, even an important
moment of it. Genealogists will be interested and getting your birth and death
date correct as well as marriage date or dates but their purpose is to relate
information to family members to remind people where they come from. This is
better than nothing. This doesn’t mean anyone in the next generation is going
to be interested. How interested are you? The genetic run of individuals and
their families mostly crumbles away like old places – scattered head stones or
strewed cremains. In here though human beings, marsupial or otherwise dead are
not places. The human spirit is a continuous event of heartansoulanmind is more
like the unabated element of hydrogen in the physical universe than anything
else. That’s how Grandma sees it. People, marsupial or human, tend to have a
narrow inclination of their worth singularly or compounded because that is how
it seems. Not in these books though. Ghosts understand such matters better. It
helps if you are not all ‘here’ and you are not. Nothing is.
Criteria
and Renaldo are a sample of the direct ancestors of Robert, Richard, Cyndi and
Connie. These are the spiritual Dead rising up into the consciousness of the
spiritual Living. Criteria and Renaldo have a son, Thomas who continues to live
in west Scotland. Thomas marries Hilda from Northumbria. They have twins, Jacob
and Judah. Jacob and his wife Ruth have Duncan and Sarah, grandchildren of
Thomas and Hilda. Judah and Anne have two children also, Joseph and Daniel.
When Thomas dies, they stay on at the Scottish estate raising sheep for a tidy
profit.
Hilda
returns to one of her estates in Northumbria and invites Jacob and Ruth and their
children Duncan and Sarah to run one of her English estates there. Lady Hilda
wants her grandchildren to keep the wealth in the family.
Sarah
develops a strong alliance with her grandmother Hilda, after hearing Jacob and
Ruth are murdered in Viking raids in 783. Daniel and his wife Treasa escaped
the destruction of Criteria and Renaldo’s estate.
In
order to survive Daniel and Treasa and their son Wilfred live by deception in
the Scottish Highlands as noble Vikings named Frodisharg and Vigdisdottir. They
are able to take some of their former possessions and money and become buyers
and sellers of relics, most important to them is acquiring their former oak
table where Grandfather Thomas once sat and learned from Merlyn, at least that
is how their story goes.
In
Northumbria, a part of England, Sarah and her husband Robert have two sons,
James and John. When Robert dies Sarah sells the land and sheep she inherited
from her Grandmother Hilda. By 941 James’ son Madison is 53. His wife is
Shandy. Their son Lyndon and his young wife Daisey have their first son,
Ackley. The brothers inherit Sarah’s wealth and move to Pucklechurch to live.
In
this same year in the Scottish Highlands, Daniel and Terasa’s son Wilfred along
with his wife Daria live in Glasgow and have a granddaughter named Dana who is
helping to run the expanded family relic business, Enterprise. Dana’s husband Douglas is killed in battle in 936 and
he leaves Dana and her grandmother Naime to raise the two children, Cory, five
and Tully, four, both of whom love to play with an imaginary elf under the old
oak table.
On
25 December 1066 William crowned King of England at Westminster. The widow of
James, Scarlet is 46 is writing a letter to Wanda, her mother-in-law, who is
married to Sarah’s other son, John who is 80. Scarlet has a son Seaton who is
22. Seaton’s wife Dallan is 19. They have a one-year-old daughter, Aida.
In
the same December in Glasgow, Vendela, 44, is the widow of Dane. Vendela is
Cory’s great, great granddaughter. Her father was named Palmer. Vendela has a
reckless daughter Luella, 15 who will eventually inherit all Vendela’s fortune.
Thus we have a selected genealogy from Criteria and Renaldo. Grandma winks.
Think how it would be tracing a selection of your immediate family back some
three hundred years? You are the end result of much human heart-felt attachment
over the last three centuries. And, whether you have children or not, others
will carry on the legacy of human species.
***
Diplomatic Pouch 7
Mr.
Kembel sits in the chair thinking: I no longer stand. I sit and still await
Drenakite. Surely she is at the outer door. This is not a good sign.
Embarrassed, he flushes away such primitive, superstitious thought. History
envelops me. It has some twenty thousand years since the last plague and I feel
we may be opening the door to another by bringing these Earthlings here. Ship
is less than two hundred miles from our atmosphere and in a special blackenot.
Ship is communicating only with Onesixanzero. No one else knows what is at stake.
Our machinery has us tied, thinking this introduction is ultimately for both of
our species health and safety, but machinery does not succumb to biochemical
contagion. It has no fear, no superstition. I should not either.
Dark
humor invades. Such irony it would be for me to be in secret charge of causing
a possible new plague that might wipe Planet One of our species in less than a
week if some strange mix of these aliens with our environment would cause small
unthinkable biochemically killing mutations in our similar atmosphere and
rivers. A virus of epic proportions killing one-third of our population, Planet
One.
“This
would be no worse than plagues already effected on Earthlings,” comments
Onesixanzero, “and it would be far less a problem than when only one hundred
marsupial humanoids survived that last plague on Planet One. We have run the
numbers and Ship and I do not feel anyone will be unsafe because of biochemical
contamination. No one, Earthling or Marsupial will get more than a headache at
most, and that, we concur, would be more psychological than anything else. No
one on Earth has died because three marsupial humanoids invaded their
environmental habitat, but then your concern Mr. Kembel is less with the
Earthlings than your own habitats. Ship and I are equally concerned for the
health and safety of both species.”
“I
forgot you might be listening to my thoughts.”
“I
did not hear a word, replies Onesixanzero. “We analyze your functioning bodies
and brains and make deductions on your thoughts. We read you better than you
read yourselves; this is how we serve. Drenakite will now enter the room.” The
door opens. Mr. Kembel begins to rise.
Drenakite
says, “Hello, Mr. Kembel. Please, remain seated. We need to talk, and this
Preserve is the only place on ThreePlanets to do so.”
.
Kembel
watches Drenakite leave quietly while thinking, the woman is spooked. We have
to keep on top of this. He says to Onesixanzero, “I need to talk privately to
my daughter.”
“She
will talk to you momentarily.”
“Hello,
Father?”
“Friendly,
StoneHouse has been found and Drenakite is spooked by the coincidence.”
“Where
is it?”
“It
was found under a riverbed. The digging is classified among top cleric. If it
is StoneHouse it will be the most revered sacred site on ThreePlanets.”
“Why
is Drenakite spooked? She is the most reasonable of all the Cleric on
ThreePlanets.”
“It
is believed by the Cleric that the body of Elderfelder is buried beneath the
floor of StoneHouse,” he comments.
“That
would be like finding the bones of Abraham or Jesus to the Earthlings.”
“No,
I think it would be like finding evidence of everyone’s Earth Mother, Eve.”
“This
is also newly High-Science classified. Onesixanzero informs us that a crawlbabe
on PlanetThree has only the rudiments of a brain but her body instinctively
scaled to the pouch and is surviving on her own.
“That
is Elderfelder the Dancer.”
“You
see the problem.”
“And
no one knows we have returned but you, Drenakite and Onesixanzero.”
“Onesixanzero
and Ship have merged machinery for our health and safety.”
Friendly’s
voice emotions slightly, “The Earthlings must come first. They are our guests,
Father.”
“Not
yet,” he clips.
“They
are Ship’s guests first.”
“This
is not a good time to announce their presence to anyone.” Or yours either
Friendly, thinks Mr. Kembel.
“Do
you want to talk to Yermey? He should know these events.”
“He’ll
listen then make a joke. You tell him.”
“It’s
just his dark humor. He has witnessed much in his long life.”
“How
are your Earthlings holding up?”
“Well.
They are busy learning how it is. Ship let’s them view what they want.”
“Surely
he is not going to tell them what’s happening.”
“Ship
probably feels that’s your department, Friendly. But, I think you should wait.
The excuse is normal isolation quarantining. Keep it that way for the time
being.
“Maybe
it would be good to have the Earthlings visit the StoneHouse archeological
dig,” suggests Yermey. “Place them in the thicket with us.”
“I’m
captain, Father. Yermey and Hartolite are privy to this conversation.”
Mr.
Kembel gives an order, “Yermey, I seek your further advice.”
*** ***
***
