Archive for the gratitutde Category

I’m back

Posted in Confessions of a Mad Philosopher, Crazy Zen Wisdom, Crossing the Abyss, Escape Velocity, gratitutde, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Zen on July 13, 2016 by dreamlanddancing

This is only the second time I have posted spontaneously since I started this blog.

Due to a back injury, I was incapacitated for nearly two months now, and am preparing to go back to work and resume normal activities of daily living.

Trust me, if I am in too much pain to post…all I could do was meditate, medicate, and try to leave my body; sometimes putting pen to paper to scratch out an idea that I did not want to forget.

I am most grateful for the experience. I frequently write on or around the subject of emotional pain, and I am no stranger to physical trauma, but I had lost touch with how pain can eventually create a sort of “slingshot effect” some call the “sub zone”. It was enlightening.

For me, it sent me to escape velocity spiritually.

Today I suddenly picked up a beautiful Fender Stratocaster that was given to me out of the gratitude a very dear friend felt for a favor that Suki and I had done out of love in her moment of need.

I sketched out the bare bones of a song I suddenly heard in my head that I slowly replicated on my instrument. It has been a very long time since that muse has whispered in my ear. I wrote some notations to make sure I don’t loose that moment, or those voicings and harmonies.

Suffice it to say, I am back; all around me, energies are flowing and Kaizen is in the air. All around me, what I had lost is slowly returning.

Some of it is material, and was badly needed, but the really important ethereal and occult and emotional/spiritual/transcendental blessings seemingly came out of the universe itself.

I became a paramedic to try to do penance for some of my previous actions; one day, I realized that just not being a bad person doesn’t necessarily make you a very good person. I had a lot of Karmic debts to pay. What followed nearly killed me and cost me my relative sanity more than once. I am not complaining; again I say I am NOW filled with gratitude for all of it.

I’m back.

Namasté
नमस्ते
Chazz Vincent

07/12/2016

 

 

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return, pt. II

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Biggest Sex Organ, Collaboration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Dirty, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, gratitutde, His Penis Her Vagina, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason, Mature Theme, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sex, Suki, The Id, the willing suspension of disbelief, This Thing we do with Words, Vagina with tags , , , , , , , , on April 24, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return, pt. II

My Muses

One of the things we do with words is to inspire. Writers do not live in a vacuum, but no matter what we do within our own lives, nothing beats a different perspective from outside of ourselves to introduce new ideas, questions and influences.

Those people are my muses, my wells of inspiration from which I drink, be it the refreshingly cold, clear water of underground springs fed by mountain streams from far away or warm, mysterious draughts from jungle pools or even hot, flavored waters, exuding enticing perfumes of unknown origins.

Some provide an occasional cautious sip, while others compel me to slake my thirst until it is sated. Some help me clear my mind while others intoxicate me in inexplicable ways like a vampire on a blood-feast, but I have been blessed to be influenced by several for whom I am most grateful.

This post was initially inspired by a discussion of pet words for the genitalia of either sex as well as the associated body parts or functions one might be inclined to use in erotic writings, to which we would aspire to attain the level of Literotica.

Jayne of DiaryIncarnate at WordPress prompted a renewal of the discussion when she recently made reference to what she referred to as a “Dickipedia”. I am a regular visitor to her website and I am quite fond of her poetry, but both her prose and verse frequently give me “paws” to think and reflect upon her eternally questioning mind.

Although we have never met in person, she has a real talent for bringing out both the rogue and the gentleman in me, and I sense that I am not alone in that assessment of her effect on men.

About a year ago, Anastasia, the charming and provocative astraltravler of WordPress and I collaborated on a piece called His Penis, Her Vagina, to address the plethora of synonyms for the two major taxons regarding the plumbing of the sexes, but we quickly realized that many terms, like Meat-Whistle, One-eyed Trouser Snake, Cooter, or Poontang (sometimes hyphenated), are at best considerably more hilarious than erotic, and at worst just plain disgusting. Some were both.

Later collaborations between Anastasia, with my wife (Yen4)Suki and myself have proven much more worthwhile and productive, although we have been a bit pensive about writing about the results…and I don’t know why, because none of us are what one would call shy.

Suki and I had collaborated on a piece that was essentially her story over six months ago, that to date remains unpublished. All I did was help her organize and word the story, as she related her experiences to me, but it is a great piece in more ways than one, especially because it needed so little embellishment or enhancement.

As erotic adventures go, I would wish that all women could experience such a milestone adventure on a milestone birthday.

Her thirtieth was almost as good, but I was there to witness, encourage and participate with her on that occasion.

That’s just the way we roll. I hope she shares it soon.

I must be the luckiest man in the world to be so inspired by these three muses.

One is mine, but she is too precious and free-spirited to hoard or keep to myself. Another is shared and comes and goes like a tropical breeze, the muse of my muse. Only the third is a woman of mystery whom I cannot distinguish from Oasis or Mirage; who comes to me on tiptoes as silent as an assassin to whisper enticing provocations into my ear like a long-lost lover from another lifetime.

Although the initial impetus of this post centered around erotica, it quickly developed a life of its own and ran off the rails onto the much larger tracks leading to the subject of creative expression and inspiration in general.

For that reason, I have decided to publish it in installments.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/20/2014

 

My Muses

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Collaboration, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Erotic Poetry, Goddess, gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason, Liason Between Parties, Love, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, NSFW, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Sentience, Share The Love, Sorcery, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Tsukimono-suji, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 20, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

My Muses

Our souls breathe the same air

somewhere

outside of time and space

resonating

as we breathe out

we inspire each other

as we breathe in

provocative exhalations

evoking visions and dreams,

wonderment and admirations

that just seem to fit so well.

As each pronouncement

of the ideal

of the other

mirrors our own aspirations.

If you can imagine it

you can make it happen.

To hear you describe it

is to desire to be that man

who inspires you

to be that woman.

To read your thoughts

is to feel

your soul

breathing your words into my ear.

Each of you

nurture, heal and inspire

the very best of me,

inspiring me

to do the same for you.

Indulgences

of spirit and flesh

are exchanged

as fluently

as

passing from one hand to the other.

Breathless humours and vapors

of our common consciousness

in mutual resusitation.

 

THFWS & TTM’s: The Final Chapter?…You be the Judge….

Posted in Bardo Thordol, Celebration, Civil Liberties, Courtroom Drama, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, gratitutde, GROUP MARRIAGE, Interspecies Erotica, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Knowledge, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Metaphysical Action/Adventure, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Sentience, Sex, Sexual Action/Adventure, Share The Love, Sorcery, The Ascent of Man, The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Liberation Through Hearing, The Rain Dance, The Talking Monkeys, The Tyranny of Evil Men, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Upper Paleolithic Revolution, Vision Quest, Witchcraft, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

The Final Chapter?…You be the Judge….

(Show extreme close-up of the eye of Raul, the Talking Cuban Tree-Frog. As the camera zooms out he begins his narration for Intergalactic Geographic while clinging to a branch outside the Sanctuary.)

“Despite the end of the siege, the courtroom drama, and the assassination of Frederick, life in the Home for Wayward Souls continues at the same breath-taking pace that has become de rigueur for longer than anybody can seem to remember. And it seems as if they wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Everyone is so closely connected to everyone else within the community that without introducing any of their own drama, there is more than ample mutual stimulation, validation and support which enables its members to exist within a sort of well (or treasury) of souls, springing from the ‘world soul’…the guf…so that each of its members remains self-sustaining, vibrantly alive and purposeful.”

“Because the Chimps and the Bonobos no longer needed to be separated, the interactions between the two tribes were beginning to take on a decidedly personal aspect as numerous romantic relationships were blossoming within the compound.”

“The influences of both Frederick and The Knowledge had been considerable, and there was no real competition for either food or territory. They had become united by way of a common enemy, and learned co-operation by virtue of common cause”

“And just as surely as the smaller female Bonobos found the masculine allure of the larger and more dominant male Chimps quite irresistible, as the saying goes “For every pot, there’s a lid” and there are plenty of females everywhere in this world, as well as several others with an appetite for domination of submissive males, accounting for numerous female Chimps courting the smaller male Bonobos.”

“Of course, there was no guarantee that any of the Chimp/Bonobo matings would result in the genetic mutations that Frederick experienced, including the doubling of the SRGAP2 gene induced by The Knowledge, or Frederick’s genetic DNA resemblance to Millennium Man (Orrorin tugenensis) and Homo habilis, or the eventual resolution of the disparity between the 24 genes of Chimps and Bonobos and the 23 genes of Man.”

“Although the separate 2a and 2b genes of the Pan primates eventually consolidated into the single Human gene 2 configuration (thereby accounting for the apparent “extra” gene of the Pan primates), there was no guarantee that any of the hybrids that were later to be born would be compatible with future Human additions to their gene pool, should they even occur. Indeed, Frederick may have been a genetic anomaly. Similar future mutations might not occur again for an indeterminate length of time.”

“And Evolutionary Time is very unpredictable. A Quantum Leap can occur in one generation, but it may not be self-replicating, and it might take hundreds, even thousands of generations for that leap to take place, and incremental evolution as a result of natural selection and environmental demands is notoriously slow.”

“But of course, the twins might well represent the future “Mitochondrial Adam and Eve” of a new race of sentient, self-aware, and increasingly intelligent Hominid primates capable of mating with either Humans or Chimps and Bonobos, possibly resulting in future pairings between “proto-humans” and “proto-chimps” much as early Man did.”

“Since it would be ill-advised to mate siblings, there would be a necessity that some new genes be introduced. Even if the twins only mated with Chimps and Bonobos, their gene pool will never be the same again.”

“But given the extraordinary beauty of both of them, there was a very good possibility that future human donations would also result, possibly from other members of the inner circle, or even artificial insemination. If so, the next Great Leap Forward would be inevitable.”

“Merle currently possessed enough of the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil to support a congregation of one hundred thousand for over five hundred years on a very regular basis (…just in case…”), although its existence would remain a closely guarded secret, at least for the time being.”

“Although he had voluntarily resigned from his research consultant’s job with Merrick when he first began his participation in the trial to avoid the immanent dismissal that Mark, Darcy and Charles had experienced allegedly “due to business needs”, if need be, he could work for any other manufacturer he chose, or manufacture it clandestinely on the premises”

“There was no longer any financial necessity that any of them take employment with anyone else. They were not just rich…they had become wealthy…or rather, their non-profit incorporation had amassed so much money that their accountants and attorneys were on full-time retainer just to find ways to spend the money on their chartered pursuits of higher consciousness and polyamory.”

“It was they in fact who were now providing employment to selected individuals who were recruited by invitation only, thereby helping to insure that they remained connected to people of like mind and spirit.” 

“And there was no shortage of work for their selected causes to give everyone an outlet and a connection.” 

“To this end, they were also beginning a screening process to determine the suitability of selected candidates to receive ‘enlightenment’, although they were just as hesitant to obtain their informed consent to take The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil as they were to administer it without their knowledge.”

“Because of the legal implications, secrecy was an absolute must. They fully anticipated to be infiltrated by the FBI, DEA. or even the CIA and NSA. Although Stan would be immensely valuable in helping spot infiltrators and CI’s, even the remote possibility of a disgruntled parishioner reporting the mere existence of The Knowledge would be disastrous.”

“Indiscriminate administration of the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil might not result in the spiritual evolution of all of Mankind, given Man’s inestimable capacity to pervert and subvert even the noblest, loftiest and most benign of ideals or goals.”

“The fact that the DOD spent millions of dollars trying to turn the Frisbee into a weapon would be a good example. Also, ‘Knowledge is power’ and power corrupts….”

“Also it is doubtful that any of the present standing governments of the world would desire a self-realized, self-actualized and enlightened population that would be able to see beyond the devious ploys so commonly used to manipulate the general public, except for perhaps the Dutch and some provinces of Canada.”

“They all realized that they stood on the brink of a new existence, and that the likelihood of oppression from an almost endless list of potential enemies would be great unless tremendous discretion was exercised by all parties, even with Stanley Linderman protecting their best interests and continued safety.”

“Merrick Pharmaceuticals, the parent company of PharmaCorp eventually announced that they would no longer be using Chimps or Bonobos for medical research. After extensive isolation and testing for disease or genetic damage, they were retired and donated to The Home for Wayward Souls.”

“Shortly after that, public outrage over the excesses of PharmaCorp’s business practices acting as program administrators for the vast majority of insurers resulted in sweeping legislative reforms designed to prevent them from extorting and victimizing the public by denying claims, unfair regulation and monopolization of trade, providing sub-standard foreign-produced generic versions of medications of questionable therapeutic value, and collusion between PharmaCorp, the Pharmaceutical manufacturers and insurance companies.”

“Huge fines and lawsuits for damages as well as jail time for numerous executives resulted. Simultaneous actions taken by federal, as well as state’s Attorneys General triggered a bloodbath not seen since Mark Anthony first stuck it to Julius Caesar, and once it started, it seemed that the line would never end.”

“Much like the prosecution of organized crime, once one of them rolled over and turned state’s evidence against the company, the domino effect ensured that there would be no place to hide, and even the most top-ranking executives would not be able to pay off their accusers.”

“THFWS as part of their chartered missions began to initiate recognition of Repetitive Thought Injury by the medical and scientific communities, as well as other inhumane practices in the workplace in general and telemarketers in particular.”

“The logic was that if they could get it recognized as an injury, then if insurance companies had to start paying claims, they would pressure the employers to provide working conditions not to be considered as primary causative agents.” 

“Not surprisingly, the effect on the economy was a significant decrease in health-care costs nationwide as major medical insurance administrators followed the lead forcibly set in place for the pharmaceutical industry.”

“Since the huge windfall profits of the administrative companies went largely to executives and stockholders who did little to stimulate the economy except by conspicuous consumption, (which never does much of anything to benefit the general population) they had more disposable income to spend on items that resulted in more jobs in other industries, as well as the perception of an improved quality of life.”

“And since the wages paid by PharmaCorp represented just about the minimum wage that any reasonably literate professional would accept, and as there was no need for massive lay-offs because once the company was forced to operate on an ethical basis, the enrollments dramatically increased along with the public trust, even more agents were needed to act as patient care advocates in customer services.”

“Mark and Darcy took on the daunting task of educating all the primates within the congregation. Since they were all computer-literate on a limited basis, it would also give them ample opportunities to conduct behavioral research on their learning, perception and behavior as well as the developmental advances of Adam and Eve (the unanimous choice for the names of the twins).”

“Because of the necessity of supporting the burgeoning telephone call center related to the television, video and internet interests of THFWS and Kali’s website as well as the recordings of the ArcAngels there were plenty of opportunities at better salaries with better working conditions for ex-pat employees of PharmaCorp’s marketing division, which was eventually closed down in South Florida.”

“Even more surprisingly, a few of the Bonobos agreed to work as telephone operators at the Sanctuary on an entirely voluntary basis for behavioral research but it was understood and agreed that there would be ABSOLUTELY NO TELEMARKETING PRACTICES ALLOWED.”

“So many questions are yet to be answered, and so many situations unresolved, that there can be little doubt that this is far from the end of this saga, but for now, we close this chapter until news of further developments present themselves.”

“Until then, this is Raul, your reporter for Intergalactic Geographic. So long until we meet again.”

THFWS & TTM: Before the Phoenix Rises Again…

Posted in Bardo Thordol, Collaboration, Crossing the Abyss, Dangerous and Unsavory ideas that are possibly harmful to the weak-mided and overly simplistic and religious, Demonization, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Enhanced and Fortified non-fiction, Escape Velocity, Explicit Sexual Language, First Amendment Rights, gratitutde, Greatest Sorrow, GROUP MARRIAGE, Interspecies Erotica, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Liason Between Parties, Line Marriage, Long Form, LONGREAD, longreads, Love, Mature Theme, Much Too Good For Children, Novel, Novel, NSFW, Philosophical Sexuality, Philosophical Sexuality, Polyamory, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone, Primate Romance/Adventure, Self-Defense, Sentience, Sex, The Ascent of Man, The Church of Reason, The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, The Home For Wayward Souls, The Knowledge of Good and Evil, The Liberation Through Hearing, The Talking Monkeys, The Tyranny of Evil Men, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Uncategorized, Upper Paleolithic Revolution, Uroboros, Violence, Vision Quest, Witchcraft with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

Before the Phoenix Rises Again…

Stan noticed the man’s eyes before he even recognized that they belonged to Sebastian G. Lodge. What caught his attention was the absolute malevolence that betrayed his intentions long before Stan even saw the gun.

If you are trying to provide personal protective services in a large crowd, it is easy to get lost in a sea of details of the entire crowd. It is much quicker to scan the crowd for the eyes that will tell you their motive from across a room…or a plaza.

If the eyes don’t look right, suspect a motive, then look around for the details that indicate the owner has a plan and the means to constitute a clear and present danger or a threat.

It is easy to spot murderous rage or malice, but Stan also knew how to spot the cold, calculating eyes of a professional sizing up all the other details surrounding your protected charge. Although they too are conspicuous to just the right eyes, Lodge’s eyes literally telegraphed his emotions.

Stan was already reacting instinctively in a very long series of reflex arcs that had been initiated by plan, by practice, and by execution more than enough times to ensure that they occurred without conscious thought or mental action…the Tao of the Gun.

Before he recognized Lodge he had already thrown his body into the path of his adversary…Instinctively, and without hesitation as he drew his weapon a very few milliseconds before Lodge produced his.

He did not have to wait to act…anticipation is the first step in establishing and maintaining control before it can ever be lost.

Lodge’s eyes were like two hard-boiled eggs floating in a bowl of beets…his face was contorted with twisted rage and unfocused pain. He looked like he had been drinking and crying all night, and snot dripped from his nose into his gaping, drooling mouth while he seemed to gasp for air as he began firing at the center of the group.

Four rounds struck Stan as he leaped, still hanging in mid-air; three in his chest, striking his body-armour, as one grazed the outside margin of his right thigh, throwing a small puff of blood, skin and material from his pants into the air as it ripped through everything that stood before it.

It seemed like the whole event was in extreme slow-motion as Stan heard the report of the shots, the whiz of the bullets, the thump they produced on his chest, the sight of Lodge’s semi-automatic pistol recoiling and Ka-Chunking another round into the chamber as empty brass flew into the air, raining down on the courthouse steps with the tinkling ring of death reverberating and splashing around them, although most people only heard the shots themselves.

Stan watched as he saw Lodge’s chest explode before the sight profile of his pistol as he triple-tapped the cardiac silhouette. He did not execute the customary head shot because it was too close quarters to shoot anything but center of mass for fear of striking a non-combatant. He did not have to think about it. That was just the way it was…Instinct…Reflex arc…before thinking.

In crisis, you revert to your most basic level of training.

A head shot through the tip of the nose as far down as the bottoms of the lower row of teeth, or through the ears or just below the base of the occipital region above the spine would have produced a flaccid paralysis kill rendering Lodge unable to even pull the trigger of his weapon.

Stanley knew how to do it…like in Genesis, where “Zofran Knew Sarah, or Rachel, or Hanna…(or better still, all three) and it was Good….” Biblical knowledge involves the most intimate of familiarity…not just how to….but in fact to do, as well as when not to…when there is zero margin for collateral damage.

That’s the disadvantage one faces when they are forced to be fighting on the side of Good…Lodge was not so constrained….did not have to worry about the outcome of his actions, like stray bullets for instance.

Just the same, Stan did the best anyone could have hoped to do in the situation. Stan was the very best of those who did what he did…He was almost perfect….

Lodge was dead before he hit the ground. You could have told so by the sound if you knew what to listen for…like hearing a sack of meat hit the sidewalk from six feet up. Half splat, half thud and no rebound whatsoever.

It wasn’t until he heard Darcy’s scream that he knew for sure that almost wasn’t quite good enough…as he realized that Lodge had fired five times…or how that one fifth round, fired as Lodge was dying, already headed for the ground had ricocheted  off a stone step and struck Frederick in the chest.

As the news cameras captured it, Frederick signed “Carry me in your heart” to Darcy, who was holding his head and shoulders on her legs and next to her swollen belly.

Then all of the members of the group heard Frederick’s best, most sonorous voice in their minds as he told them “It’s still a good day to be me…I have done, and seen and thought things no mere Ape could imagine…I love you all… please protect our children…they are the sons and daughters of Man, the same way Man was the Son of God…their fate lies in your hands and hearts…Remember me to them…and remember to talk to them in our special way.”

He also simultaneously visually signed the thoughts he sent to the members of the group for the benefit of all those who would witness it…either now or later…courtesy of those who would capture that moment forever on cameras…his last living communications with the world.

Thoughts and words that would be subject to much debate as to their meaning for a long time….

As Ash and Merle rushed the other members of the group into the limousine, Stan cradled the body of Frederick in his arms and carried him to the shelter of the vehicle as Frederick took his last breaths.

When Rescue showed up, they pronounced Lodge dead, and tried to bandage Stan’s wound, which Anastasia had temporarily dressed with Stan’s (unused) handkerchief and his tie, but the paramedics apologized that they could not risk “contamination” of their equipment by Frederick’s blood or bodily fluids.

The police were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, taking statements, setting up a perimeter and marking it with “Police Line. Do Not Cross” tape, photographing everything in and out of sight, marking angles of trajectory, cataloging and bagging spent shell casings, drawing two chalk lines, and documenting and sampling every drop of blood that anyone could find, yet somehow seeming to take forever, while fighting and posturing over rank, jurisdiction, procedures, protocols, and press releases, as well as the relative length of every other cop’s penis within a five-mile radius.

Eventually, everyone got back home to the Sanctuary. The police were remarkably blasé about releasing Frederick’s body to them almost immediately.

The group was grateful for that, but it hurt to hear the officer in charge declare “…it would be different if he were a human….”.

A trauma surgeon was summoned to the Sanctuary to attend to Stan’s wound.

Had he been a police officer, he would have been on administrative suspension with pay pending an investigation, but he was not so constrained.

There was no DA willing to charge him until proven otherwise, like a regular citizen could anticipate, but he was no hero either. He had been assigned to protect Frederick who was now dead, and although he undoubtedly saved the lives of the others, there are no consolation prizes for heroism.

Management had no further interests in the case. Frederick was dead and he, as well as the other Primates were now the property of The Home for Wayward Souls as far as they were concerned.

Lodge would have represented the last loose end in the whole equation, had he not conveniently self-destructed the way he did. Management immediately began to begin the process of demonizing Lodge to the public to give them sufficient distancing from his actions.

Management had also suspected that Stan was “compromised” for some time now, but in the scheme of things, his continued discretion was considered guaranteed in a way that would serve their purposes.

The continued safety of the members of The Home for Wayward Souls was in Management’s best interests…at least for an appropriate length of time for the public to forget them and turn their attention back to the regularly scheduled programming of current events designed to promote the economy and the public’s best interest of neurotic consumption.

An additional midwife was waiting for them, but Anastasia took charge of her emotions and focused on Darcy’s care in much less time than anyone…even Anastasia…would have thought possible.

If you are a nurse, that is how you cope. You focus on the lives that need to be saved…and the lives of the yet unborn…postpone the grieving for the dead…its called Triage…you learn about it in school, but when you are forced to do it in real life, you (later) realize how it protected you, no matter how hard it is later to reconcile your grief, for that moment you are protected by the actions you take.

Make no mistake…every time you let one of your patients into your personal space, if you let yourself be touched by their humanity… what you don’t know at the time is that whether you save their life, or not…if you protect and sustain them until they can be turned over to a higher level of care, you will carry those emotions felt and witnessed by you within you forever…or until they get replaced…pushed out…by something worse, or better…as the well begins to overflow….

Darcy was not in labor yet, the fetuses were not in distress…at least not now…but she knew, and Darcy sensed, that to not prepare for the inevitable would be to invite disaster.

Ash called a friend of his who was a Neonatologist at Miami Children’s Hospital. They had been undergraduates at Gainesville together and he played the baritone sax exquisitely. He was to be there…“just in case….”.

They were as ready as they could be, given the circumstances.

And then, when they least expected it, the grief…the realization…the internalization of it all struck them almost simultaneously.

Ash was trying in vain to find a Mortician to prepare the body, when someone suggested a cremation, which was then envisioned as a funeral pyre about the time that Darcy began to weep, then sob uncontrollably.

The grief swept over them like a giant wave as they began to hold, hug, and kiss each other as they surrounded Darcy. In moments like that, grief so shared boils quickly to the surface much more strongly than most people could possibly experience alone, and yet in so sharing they become galvanized by it.

The chimps and bonobos had been in the public area outside the Sanctuary and were celebrating and dancing as the verdict was announced. They also witnessed the news footage of Frederick’s assassination shortly afterward.

Malkira and Lilith were at the rectory awaiting the arrival of the limousine, and been shown their son’s body and allowed to sit with him to grieve. The other chimps and bonobos stood vigil outside.

When she calmed herself a bit, Darcy asked Merle to please administer her a proper dosage of The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Merle agreed that the ability of any of the known effects of the drug to affect any harm to the neonates or to her was extremely unlikely, but he nonetheless felt compelled to ask her if she felt she was mentally prepared for the effects of the drug.

“I have nothing to fear…I intend to embrace all knowledge and experience as it comes to me from this moment on…and I invite everyone else to join me poolside, because I have the distinct premonition that I will be delivering my babies very soon…and since we are all family…I think everyone should experience the event according to their own level of comfort, and that we should all experience it together….”

“Count in on us…me…and Charlie…” (no one ever calls him that but her, btw…) “…right Honey-Cock? As one life (is) ushered out, new life enters…no?” Suki was usually the first to volunteer, or for that matter, the first to get naked whenever the opportunity presented itself.

That was one of her most endearing and charming features…that, and her ability to seem like she was on a trampoline while everyone else was on solid ground all around her.

With that, Ash, Kali and Mark nodded in agreement and approached Merle to accept the Sacrament as well.

Five minutes later, they were all naked in the pool with Darcy, who was sitting on the steps holding the rail with her left arm, bracketed by Anastasia and the midwife on either side.

Much earlier, it had been decided that Darcy would birth her children in the water and for weeks now, the solar heaters had kept the temperature at just below 100 degrees, so as to mimic body temperature. Anastasia had delivered two of her own “water-babies” years before who were now grown, and she recommended it highly.

Kali and Suki set up cauldrons for the scurrying. They were certain the The Ancient Ones would be there for the birthing.

Sobee and Sharma were scampering around in the bushes and flower beds beside the front doors, playfully anticipating if they should have to transform into sentinels, ever on the alert, but playfully good-natured about it all. They could go from chameleon to iguana to dragon in the blink of an eye, and back again just as fast.

Charles called them the “Quantum Lizards”…explaining how if they could transform in “Planck Time”, (basically faster than anyone could measure it…something like 1 sec to the negative forty-third power), then they could do as they pleased, and if they did it in a closed universe, they could expand the interval of Quantum Probability far beyond that.

And even in an open universe, if they could transform back and forth that quickly, the persistence of vision would make them appear to be solid and permanent in whatever form they chose.

“Form is Form, Emptiness is Emptiness…

Form is Emptiness, Emptiness is Form…

No Form, no Emptiness…

An elephant rides a mouse that dances to the song of a guitar with no strings…

Form is Form, Emptiness is Emptiness.”

They were the “Great Embezzlers of Time and Space” as it turns out, and just liked to hang out at the Sanctuary whenever there was something interesting happening and very special doormen were needed.

It was a beautiful night. The moon was full and the sky was absolutely clear.

The ArchAngels were playing a four-hour song cycle they had written several months before in anticipation of the arrival of the twins.

Charles had Lothar set up multiple video cameras to capture whatever appeared in, from or around the cauldrons so as to project it onto the screen that flew above the gardens outside the Sanctuary.

Raul, the talking Cuban Tree Frog was there as well, narrating and reporting for the Intergalactic Geographic Channel in his customarily hushed golf tournament narrative voice-over.

It was a strange and beautiful night. One in which the despair and tragedy of Frederick’s death was nearly eclipsed by the ushering in of new life; where great victories were marred by great personal loss.

Twin souls were standing in the wings, waiting to make their appearance on the stage of Life. It was already guaranteed that they would be loved and cared for in ways for which few children could ever hope or dream.

Not all children await such an auspicious entry into Life, but for those who do, it does not matter if they are destined to become luminary figures the world will long remember, or just another lost soul who found a good place to land for a while.

Jesus was born in a manger. Lincoln was born in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere, right now, a Buddha is being born, although no one knows it yet. No one ever knows what will be the fate of children at the time of their birth. It is enough just for them to be born.

The news of the day heard around the world would be of Frederick’s murder, with an anecdotal reference to the birth of the children in the Sanctuary, but for the members of this church of common mind and heart, it would forever remain a day of bittersweet contrast of the best and worst aspects of what it is to be alive.

This was to be a very special and wondrous night.

Almost Nothing

Posted in Acknowledgement, Appreciation, Bardo Thordol, Escape Velocity, gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Knowledge, Memoires of a Post-Neo Dharma Bum, Sentience, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Uroboros, Vision Quest, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

Once

it seemed like

nothing was ever good enough,

and I suffered greatly

in the midst of plenty.

Experience

has taught me

that Almost Nothing

is more than enough

if you surround yourself

with gratitude.

I Stare into the Fire

Posted in A Dirty Mind is A Terrible Thing To Waste, Appreciation, Bardo Thordol, Celebration, Crossing the Abyss, Dancing in Dreamland, Erotic Poetry, Escape Velocity, First Amendment Rights, gratitutde, Imp Of The Perverse, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Just For Fun, Keep Coming Back, Knowledge, Love, Poetry, The Id, The Rain Dance, the willing suspension of disbelief, The Wisdom, Theater of the Mind, Vision Quest, What You Have Conjured Up, Zen with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on February 6, 2015 by dreamlanddancing

Late January

In a place where

Winter is Perpetual spring

a tender shoulder

 makes my

mouth

wet

As I stare into the fire.

It is enough to be here now.

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