TTWDWW: Maybe someday, right after You Think it Can’t get any Worse…and then it Does Anyway….

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Eleven

Maybe someday, right after You Think it Can’t get any Worse…and then it Does Anyway….

It is also darkest before the Storm.

And so we come to ideas, concepts, and thoughts….

So much writing is formulaic, because if you want to get published…if you want a large following of readers, you have to consider that most film producers or publishers have so little imagination.

Every time new ground is allegedly broken in some area, the rush to judgment is to look for the next “Fifty Shades of Grey,” or whatever copy-cat trend is peaking at the time. Enough said.

Charlie Kaufman, Lana and Andy Wachowski, and Tom Tykwer remain some of the most notable exceptions to the rule as regards both screenwriters and directors. To my knowledge, they do not do erotica. That is unfortunate…for Erotica.

Virtually all great modern literature breaks, or at the very least bends whatever literary conventions and common period practices that are in place at that moment. Naked Lunch, Finnegan’s Wake, Howl, and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas are all good examples for different reasons, although none of them are erotic, despite the fact that when they were originally published, Naked Lunch, as well as most of Allen Ginsberg’s writings were considered “dirty”, and subject to censorship.

Originality makes its own rules as it goes along while the rest of the world tries to follow or copy it, but only after first suppressing it. We are long since past the time for Erotica to do the same.

We’ve had more than enough suppression of art and culture in general for too long. Politics and Religion are the root cause, but as long as citizens are willing to trade their civil rights and liberties for safety and security, from an ever-increasingly parental and disapproving government, it will only get worse.

It’s hard to believe that it has been over fifty years since the sixties (the generation that took twenty years to act out), which may have been the last time our culture openly embraced the eternally questioning mind.

Fellini stated that he believed that in some ways, censorship helped stimulate creativity by forcing more creative ways to work around the limitations it imposed…perhaps.

Born out of reaction to the regimes of Dwight Eisenhower, Lyndon Johnson, Richard Nixon, racial prejudice and discrimination in general, Vietnam and decades of sexual and cultural repression, a political and cultural revolt was inevitable.

In this country, it provoked brazen challenges to tremendous social, cultural and political evils and unconscionable repression, fueled by a general state of mind that openly rejected hypocrisy and injustice as the worlds of Art, Film, Literature, Music, Sexual Revolution, as well as Political and Cultural norms exploded in defiance of a world that had gone wrong for too long.

“…I stood around Saint Petersburg

when I saw it was the time for a change….”

(and)

“I watched with glee as your kings and queens

set the barricades

for the gods they made.

…Pleased to meet you…

Hope you guessed my name….”

(Rolling Stones/”Sympathy for the Devil”)

It has been far, far too long, and maybe our time will come again, if we but choose to stand up and howl…not to repeat ourselves, but to re-invent ourselves timelessly, proudly and shamelessly.

Nothing is sexier than a truly authentic person living their life passionately and fearlessly with boundless curiosity, little reservation or caution, and few regrets.

Time to fish, cut bait, or swim.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

TTWDWW: Shock the Monkey

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Ten

Shock the Monkey

I can think of two descriptive phrases I have used that were almost too off-putting to have considered using, and yet…the image that came to my mind as I envisioned particular feelings or situations left me compelled to use them.

One is clearly not erotic, and the other one is more of a sensual prelude to develop the erotic aspect of a particular character.

“…that sudden realization came upon him like hungry wolves running down lost children in the snow.” (There is nothing sexy about the phrase of course, but that was not my intention.)

Or (In describing one woman seducing another):

“She found herself transfixed and powerless to resist, like a child being lured into a van by some familiar stranger with candy, or a puppy…”

These may still be too bizarre a juxtaposition of images to be accessable to most readers as erotica, but I firmly believe that it is through the eyes of artists and writers that we learn to expand our visions of the world…it’s a dirty job, but somebody has to do it.

It would be safe to say that both are forbidden images. I am neither a pedophile, nor do I take pleasure in the misfortune of children… EVER…but it is in the very nature of the forbiden word or image that empowers it.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTWDWW: Men and Women

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part Six

Men and Women

We clearly are not either programmed or hard-wired the same, and therein lies the real challenge…how do you write erotica for both sexes…can it even be done?

Whether it be adult film, or erotic literature, clearly women’s standards are much higher, and require a more sophisticated approach.

A man is less likely to sit through a great deal of artsy prologue to set up the characters or provide any motivation (other than pure lust) unless there is sufficient hard-core action to justify the investment in time, money or effort.

In this respect, men have been more drawn toward film, and less likely to read erotica, while film producers had to refine their game to appeal to a female audience.

One of my favorite erotic writers (see above, previous posts) described an erotic encounter quite splendidly in terms of narrative action, yet the way in which she described the dramatic action of the mental and emotional Flamenco dance going on within her character gave me insights into her psyche in a way that has illuminated my male perspective of sex and her push-pull dynamics of conquest, surrender, dominance, submission, victory and vindication and has left me forever changed, providing a new gold standard for my own writings; not to copy her style…so much as her outlook, or approach, as well as to view sex through a woman’s eyes, and feel it through her heart.

This is not just simple rhetoric, or choice of words, but rather a new paradigm for a three-dimensional description and analysis of everything sexual on many different levels.

After all, the smallest human brain dwarfs the even the largest human penis.

She also stated that as much as she feels comfortable with the word “pussy” she found herself perplexed by the use of the word as a derogatory expression of one man describing another man. She also appropriately asked if men like pussy so much, why would they use the word to insult each other?

I had to think about that one for awhile….

I have come to believe that it is out of fear and insecurity.

Macho bravado (and old-guard politics) aside, the only advantage men have over women would appear to be upper body strength, and possibly spatial equations.

Genetics and hormones easily account for the upper-body advantage. My own experiences involving police and fire department physical agility tests have reinforced the paradigm that when it comes to core strength as well as lower-body strength, we are about equal.

I also think the perceived advantage with spatial equations is a result of environmental and behavioral influences. After all, if a woman spends most of her life being told how “that” was nine inches despite the fact that it clearly wasn’t, it might get confusing….

Also, another friend of mine once coined the term “Magic Hat” to describe her vagina because it certainly did seem as if it was much larger on the inside than the outside. She was fortunate enough to have plenty of opportunity to prove it to be true….

So much for spatial equations.

Females on the other hand are routinely more robust and healthy at birth than males, and mature more quickly. The sexual superiority of women is inarguable. Now matter how sexually satisfied one man may be capable of rendering a woman, the chances are that two men could have done it better, and she would have been more than capable of thoroughly satisfying both of them.

Not to mention that the vagina in the toughest, strongest, and most resilient organ in the universe. Stretch it, and she begs for more. Pummel and pound it with a penis (or two) until there is not an erg of energy left in your body and she may love you for it if you do it right, but most men will not be lucky enough to stay awake long enough to hear her thank them for it afterwards.

(It’s not our fault…in the days of our progenitors, those sleep-inducing hormones secreted after ejaculation probably allowed the female to escape Homo Erectus’ cave after being dragged there, so as to facilitate the perpetuation of the species.)

Now the tables are turned to where the latter-day cave-man (Homo Moronicus) believes “you don’t pay her to have sex with you…you pay her to leave”.

Man has clearly not evolved as rapidly as the female of the species, and deep within our souls, we know it.

“It can stretch a mile before it will tear an inch” and still snap back like a new rubber band. If men had to birth children, most would die of shock from the pain, and we would have become an extinct species long ago.

Like a Timex watch…they can “take a lickin’ and keep on ticking”…(in more ways than one).

It’s more like a matter of misplaced Envy of something they do not understand, and few men are capable of comprehending anything that can bleed for five days and not die.

Because even the most feminine and “girly” women are so characteristically underestimated and marginalized by most men, “tom-boys” and lesbians intimidate those men in dysfunctional and unhealthy ways that often result in derision and fear.

God bless all women everywhere in all of their magnificent diversity. I still cannot comprehend how they find us attractive at all, or why they are not all lesbians…I know that if I were a woman, I would be.

Balls, the twin symbols of everything masculine, on the other hand are so unnaturally sensitive as to render men vulnerable and fearful. If you were to treat them as roughly as one might a raw egg, even the most virile chest-beating alpha-male can be rendered into a quivering, sobbing mess. Regardless of Achilles’ heel, I can guarantee his balls were even weaker.

In my life, I can only remember less than a half-dozen times when I was fortunate enough to simultaneously bed two women with enough stamina and endurance that they both expressed they had had enough…at least of me, and for the time being.

Most of the rest of the times, I felt more like a novelty or toy shared between them as they pleasured each other in my most grateful presence.

Most men are just not vagina-friendly and don’t understand the difference between liking “pussy” and loving women.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/23/2015

 

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return. Criticism

This Thing We Do with Words, a slight return.

Part three

Criticism

Everybody imagines themselves to be a critic, which probably explains why there seem to be a lot more critics than worthwhile writers.

H.L. Mencken once said that it if they took all the broken, mismatched or flawed pieces that were left over from making a writer, and put them together, what you got was a critic. (I am admittedly paraphrasing from memory.)

One of the other things we do with words is ridicule. And criticize, and nothing assures harsh criticism as surely as success.

And regardless of the level of success or recognition of the critic, mean-spirited derision tends to make me suspect that a great deal of personal unhappiness or jealousy on the part of the critic has prompted their words.

I mention this because I recently read a very clever author recommended to me by a friend, whom I expected to thoroughly enjoy, only to find myself as saddened by the bitterness of her criticisms as I was disappointed by her own original works. Not bad…just nothing special, especially for someone with such strong opinions.

The result of those reflections has left me near-mute for almost two weeks, prompting me to re-evaluate my own works, especially in regard to the editing and refining of my second novel.

It seems as if the current straw dog for literature, especially Literotica is Fifty Shades of Grey. Of course it is…the author is now a multi-millionaire while the rest of us aspire to be considered at least worthwhile authors.

Until recently, I never stopped to think about how difficult it is to entice the modern reader to take the time and make the emotional investment to read anything at all, at least for pleasure.

In seeking the attainment of good literature we are talking about creating an almost mystical state of mind invoking the “willing suspension of disbelief”.

This author/critic quoted numerous examples of the bad writing or choices of words by her target (E. L. James). Some of James’ expressions sounded clever enough to me, while quite a few of the critics’ own examples of acceptable alternatives were quite banal. (IMHO).

I went to her website again and read a few more entries. Nothing special. I applied the same negativity and mean-spirited attitude to myself…perhaps she was right…maybe everybody sucks…including her.

E. L. James may be an easy target. You can trash her works with a fair degree of certainty in knowing that no one will spring to her defense and in the process make yourself sound quite clever.

Literary bullies are nothing new…Physician (or critic) heal thyself.

This has everything to do with subjectivity. What I may find engaging and challenging may be excessive or esoteric to someone else. A word that elicits images of salacious desire in one mind may sound vulgar, crude, or inappropriate to the mind of another.

Erotica…good erotica is more difficult in this respect than most other genres because it is so specialized. In order to gain mass appeal, one has to find a universality that transcends the specifics well enough to translate individually to each reader personally.

But to paraphrase, just as you can’t please all the people all of the time, you also can’t seduce all the people all the time. Male or female, some prefer blondes or redheads and fair skin. Others are attracted to rugged good looks, vs. refined features, or dark skin, kind faces, intimidating demeanors, muscular or soft…it goes on forever, but as we all hope, “for every pot, there’s a lid”. (Yet another shop-worn phrase.)

I could feel the self-doubt rising within me again.

Do I wish or need to re-invent myself? Maybe.

I’m still not convinced that I have been completely authentic. I may still be caught up in the neurotic trap of trying to please others instead of satisfying myself. (The same rules for good sex are not necessarily true of creative endeavors.)

When you present your work to the public, it is already finished, unless you do it a chapter at a time on your blog like my last novel, and even then, you still have to stay true to your craft and your vision. As long as you are genuine, if you really believe it to be your best, it really doesn’t matter what other people think.

I would rather have a small following of readers who enjoy my best work, something of which I can be proud, than to make a whore of myself pandering to a public that I do not respect, and does not respect me.

I didn’t start writing to get rich. I write because I have to…because I am compelled to write.

I write for the same reasons an alcoholic drinks.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

04/22/2015

 

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

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

 

Tell Me Something about Yourself…

Tell Me Something about Yourself…

I want to compile a survey of what words each of us consider our term of choice for our own (semi)private parts.

Some time back, I collaborated on a post called “His Penis, Her Vagina” to explore how difficult it is to write “Literotica” without excessive repetition.

Part two of the survey would be to compile a list of your favorite word(s) to describe the naughty parts of the opposite sex.

If more than two people respond, I will post the results.

If you wish to be identified as to your choices, I will post that also.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

 

What kind of God Would Block my Entrance into Heaven?

What kind of God Would Block my Entrance into Heaven?

What kind of God would do this thing?

An angry, lonely God perhaps,

but

I think it must be one quite small,

(that Heaven or that God)

where neither animals nor disbelievers

are allowed to go.

Do you think

you are only being tested

here on Earth

to decide if you should go

to Heaven?

or to Hell?

Heaven is right here.

Right now.

Because there’s no place I’d rather be,

between Gratitude and Acceptance

at the crossroads of

Life and Sex

in rural

Ecstasy,

deep into

Love County….

Call Her what you want,

I am but God’s Reflection

on the surface

of a pond so still

you can

pick it up

with the

antlers of a mouse,

(…if only you know how…)

to carry with you

in your heart.

No matter where you go.

 

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

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: The Twins

The Twins

When Darcy’s water broke, everyone but Darcy, Mark, Anastasia, and the midwife got out of the pool, preferring to lend their support and encouragement from the sidelines.

Episiotomies are the most frequently performed unnecessary operation in the United States (depending upon your opinion on circumcision), followed closely by cesarean section because doctors are simply not willing to take the time necessary to properly prepare a woman to birth children in the way that they have done since the beginning of time.

And because time is money, greed is the prime motivator in those decisions followed closely by laziness, a lack of imagination and an unwillingness to embrace a multi-disciplined, holistic mode of therapy.

It is never easy to deliver twins, and they are considered a “high-risk” case at best, but if there are no other complications, midwives will better prepare a woman to deliver just by virtue of the way in which they facilitate the effacement and dilation of the labia, and vulva, thereby rendering a tear-free delivery…in most cases, which was why the Neonatologist was also present…for all the other complications that could possibly arrive.

Cutting to pre-empt tearing is like amputating a limb to prevent a future break that may never occur. The simple fact that the suturing done to stitch the episiotomy frequently results in painful postpartum sex, sometimes for years seems to escape most doctors, who never feel a thing.

Anastasia had met Kat(rima) while they were studying together in nursing school. They became fast friends during some very fast times, but eventually Kat dropped out to study acupuncture and become a midwife. She had also delivered both of Anastasia’s children under water.

Darcy had watched her youngest sister being born at home on the kitchen table because her mother could not afford health care insurance. She had come from a family of commercial fishermen in tidewater Virginia and most of her early life had been spent learning how to “make do” on next to nothing just to survive.

To suddenly be the primary focus for any needs she or her children could ever want for with money no object was to feel gratefully empowered in ways she had never before known.

It takes a very special kind of woman to pull and stretch the surrounding flesh of the vagina sufficiently to accommodate the delivery of a child. If you have ever been privileged to witness a birth with the assistance of a midwife and compare it to any hospital delivery you’ve ever seen you quickly realize  how nurturing and baby-friendly the former is compared to the industrial atmosphere of a hospital delivery.

Many women may tend to feel uncomfortable touching another woman in such an intimate manner as is done by the midwife, but compared to almost all males, they are generally more nurturant and intimate with each other, perhaps by nature, or perhaps because our culture does not embrace homophobia as tenaciously among females as by the generally fearful, self-conscious, strutting, posturing roosters that the males of our species are so often want to make of themselves, especially in their early youth.

Regardless, some women are also programmed for nurturance from a very early age and Kat was one of them. She loved women as much as she did men and she fearlessly and self-consciously embraced an inborn commitment to caring for anyone who deserved her attentions.

And in all fairness, if an OB/GYN doctor were to perform the same procedures in a hospital setting, they would probably be up on charges before they left the parking lot.

Discretion is the lesbian consigliere of Valor.

Meanwhile, most of the Ancient Ones had arrived. The spirits of Lukumi, Los Guerreros, Roti, The Dark Mother (Kali’s almost accidental namesake), Ganesh, and seemingly countless others either sat perched upon the peak of the roof, on the branches of the surrounding trees, or were joining Darcy, Mark, Anastasia and Kat, the midwife in the water, which is one of the most amazing and provocative ways to experience their presence.

Water that contains the usual minerals and electrolytes found in either municipal systems or well water is an excellent conductor of electro-magnetic energy, especially if it contains amniotic fluids, and a number of  the Ancient Ones liked to playfully caress, poke and prod those who can allow themselves to be open to the sensations they impart as they flash back and forth across the pool like dolphins preparing to tail-walk over the water.

As the contractions came closer and closer together and her dilation increased, the cauldrons began to boil and steam and it was at just about that same time when Boop-Oopa-Doop (aka “Betty”) flew in and landed in a Key Lime tree next to the fires beneath the cauldrons.

“What’s up, Toots?” she asked of no one in particular.

Almost in unison, they waved and replied “Boop-Oopa-Doop!” She was widely known throughout the multi-verse, and generally well-liked by all.

As a fellow embezzler of time and space, She was quite adept in arriving precisely when what appeared to be a portent of something spectacular was just about to happen.

The visions that appeared in the cauldrons were similar to those that had foretold of Darcy’s ordained place within the primary group.

It was the image of Darcy surrounded by thousands of primates doing the Bandaloop Dance at sunset. This time, there was a melody that could be heard by everyone, yet recognized by no one, except the primates outside the Sanctuary, and perhaps Darcy, who also began to hum along with it.

The ArchAngels, who were watching and listening to the images and sounds projected and amplified from the cameras quickly incorporated it into their song cycle while the saxophones began to answer and the rest of the band reinforced the melody with harmonizations and counterpoint of their own.

In the area beneath the screens, the Primates had assembled to perform the Bandaloop Dance in unison with the video feed from the cauldrons. They never seemed to need any coaching; it was as if it was something native to their instincts.

As the singing and dancing reached a crescendo, Darcy delivered the first of the twins, a vigorously healthy screaming female, followed in due time by an equally beautiful and perfect male.

There was no video coverage of the delivery, but everyone who witnessed it poolside fell into silence as they each recognized the uniqueness of the twins.

“Unique” is one of the most frequently misused words of the last fifty years, but in this case it was no hyperbole, because in the entire history of the earth, there have never been two children born who possessed the appearance of these two children.

The female was thankfully much less hirsute than the male and absolutely gorgeous to behold, but there was a decidedly simian appearance to her which was not so much apparent until one saw the two of them together, because the male was undoubtedly the offspring of Frederick, who was himself the only one of his kind.

Aside from a slightly exaggerated supra-orbital ridge, somewhat longer than average arm length compared to their overall length and a little more space between the bottom of the nose and the top of the upper lip they looked very much like any other human infant, except for the feet, which were structurally identical to those of the Chimpanzee. This meant that both of the twins had four opposable thumbs each.

This would prove to be the beta upgrade to human feet for these children, who quickly learned to use them like a second pair of hands whenever their shoes were off, which never happened in public, lest  it give away the identity of their father.

But perhaps most importantly, their spines and pelvis, as well as the alignment of their hips were consistent with bi-pedal ambulation. Also, their foramen magnums were located more anteriorly at the bases of the skulls, consistent with a vertical stance directly above the spine.

Given the genetic diversity of the human animal, their appearance was surprisingly human.

The eventual legal decision as to whether or not they be considered Hominid would be prolonged as much as possible for their protection, but eventually, after they are given the opportunity to establish the authenticity of their genetic structure, as young adults it would become their time to be recognized as who they really were.

Since they were not born in a hospital, although their footprints were recorded and notarized by their attorneys, no publicly accessible documents would be filed unless absolutely necessary.

Because the dearth of research, evidence and testimony of Frederick was so well documented, he alone would best serve as the face, the voice, the words and the ideas of a truly self-aware, sentient being demanding his rights to recognition of his ascension to a higher level than was previously judged as at least adequate by the gatekeepers of the most exclusive country club in the animal kingdom called Humanity.

Once his case was won in court, the twins would have their day of recognition and autonomy without outside interference.

It was uncanny however in the way in which their facial expressions were the visage of Frederick’s. Not something one could quite put their finger on to tell of the identify of the father unless you knew Frederick well enough to recognize the similarities.

Although their skin was quite pale, their hair was jet black, but finer than that of the other great apes. Their features looked beautifully exotic…perhaps slightly Asian, or even African or some allele of the North American aboriginals; refined, yet primal, with very large, dark brown eyes. They were strangely beautiful, and once you began to look at them, it was almost impossible to avert your eyes from their soulful faces.

To a casual observer they appeared to be beautiful normal humans in nearly all aspects, but given the transcendent understanding between the members of the group, it was immediately common knowledge as to the paternity of both of them, though no one spoke directly of it that night, because they already knew that everyone else knew.

The remarkable similarity of the genes and chromosomes between Chimpanzees, Gorillas, and Orangutans with human genetic DNA had enabled a union of Frederick’s sperm and two of Darcy’s eggs, despite a long-successful tubal ligation.

Vigorously demanding their evolutionary participation in the replication of their currently unique species, they out swam all the other combined seeds deposited into Darcy’s love canal that evening, just as two eggs had also almost inexplicably made a quantum leap past what was believed to be an impenetrable barrier.

There have been legends and rumors of unions with either male or female human participants and simians throughout the last fifty years or more, but no surviving evidence and great hatred, disgust and violent hostility are often expressed at even the mention of such offspring.

A doctor in Malaysia for instance who allegedly intended to artificially inseminate two female orangutans with human sperm more than forty years ago was murdered, and his laboratory and domestic facilities burned to the ground along with the two female orangutans.

A mere rumor possibly fabricated by poachers that Diane Fossi was copulating with the gorillas whom she was studying likewise may have prompted her murder.

The subject of interspecies erotica is likely to invoke images of Tijuana donkey-shows, women from Amsterdam copulating with huge canines or sheepherders and hillbillies in general. Once the sniggering and fascination over the perceived degradation of the human subjects stops (shortly after the titillation factor wears off), the tendency is to get hautily self-righteous and violent.

As disgusted and revolted as so many claim to be, few can or will avert their eyes once they should witness it.

The book of Leviticus states that if a man shall lay with an animal, that they both shall be killed. It seems unfathomable that the ancient Hebrews believed that somehow the animal was complicit in the commission of the act, but then again, the book of Leviticus is harsh, which may explain why it is such a favorite of Pentecostals and other similarly bloodthirsty and judgmental fundamentalist Christians.

If you stop and think about it, the only true fundamentalist Christians would be the Messianic Jews who were the descendants of either the authors or scribes of the early new testament and the Dead Sea scrolls.

Ironically, it should be noted that some of the most dangerous fundamentalists would be the modern-day ultra right-wing sex-and-pleasure-hating American fundamentalist Christians, who generally want no part whatsoever of Judaism (including the Old Testament) unless it justify self-serving, vindictive, self-righteous wrath, punishment and judgmental retribution. (Muslim Jihadists notwithstanding…keeping in mind that it was the authors of the Crusades who have also sown those seeds.)

The twins were the first scientifically verifiable prototype of this union, and no one intended to make the results known to the general public for the sake of the safety of all parties concerned.

As you may recall, during The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, after Man first diverged from his primal ancestors, the offspring showed a remarkable increase in each successive generation in intellectual capacity due to the doubling of the SRGAP2  gene despite an eventually lowered total brain mass compared to the earlier, larger Neanderthal . Similarly, these children would later prove to be far more advanced than any primate…even Frederick, had ever been.

In the light of the previous events of the day, everyone in attendance was openly grateful for the revelation of the paternity of the children.

No one had suspected, least of all Darcy that it was even within the range of possibility that she was capable of conception in the first place, let alone by way of the world’s one and only Bonanzee.

Everyone in attendance openly displayed tears of joy as Anastasia and Mark helped hold the twins to Darcy’s breasts. She was absolutely radiant, looking for all the world like the proudest mother of all time…the way every mother should.

It was about this time that the visions from  the cauldrons began to change. A face began to appear that looked as if it was painted in smoke. Although initially vague and indistinct, it eventually took on the appearance of Frederick’s face.

Although the synchronization between the lips and the voice that everyone heard was delayed, nonetheless everyone who witnessed it clearly perceived the sound of Frederick’s voice in their heads as clearly as if he was personally whispering the words directly into their ears.

It was later confirmed that whether or not they had taken The Knowledge everyone who heard them verified the words that Frederick imparted to them.

First he repeated his last words spoken to the world at the time of his death. The recordings that were made of the camera feeds showed the video, but no audio was recorded. Fortunately, for posterity he also signed his message as he had before.

To it, he added a final remark. “For those who wished me harm, you have not seen the last of me. I was not born to be so easily dispatched. For those of you who knew and loved me, you too have not seen the last of me, because there is so much more to unfold as our work progresses.”

“Just as Man received a hand-up fifty-thousand years ago, it is now time for Man to lend his hand to his simian cousins to allow the natural evolutionary process to begin again. Who amongst you would deny us that opportunity?”

“Since the time when Man first traded Instinct and Intuition for Reason, he has suffered for it on so many levels that the members of our inner circle have now only really begun to realize.”

“The ancestors of Man can provide him your connection to our mutual primal past, including telepathy…if you can just learn to stop talking and relying on words to express yourselves. You have as much to gain as we do in the symbiosis of our union.”

“Our children will become the beta-version of Mankind. It is time to embrace our next evolutionary quantum leap.”

“Keep me in your hearts so that my spirit may abide there with you all as you raise our children together.”

This was clearly an event that had shocked and surprised a group who had become accustomed to the bizarre and unbelievable in a world where the impossible had become commonplace.

Most religiously oriented persons of any faith would have considered the entire event an abomination, or the work of the Devil, were they to learn of it, but in the hearts and minds of the inner circle of The Home for Wayward Souls, it was a well-received serendipity.

And so it was, that this group who did not believe in a disapproving, punitive, vindictive and jealous God the Creator (either Aravat or Eloah, Elah or Eolith in Hebrew) nonetheless learned to embrace a union with what has been referred to as the Guf, or Treasury of Souls without conflict or contradiction, and who believed in the persistence of the Soul

And it was good…very, VERY GOOD…like, well…(you know the rest)…..

Namaste

THFWS & TTM: Before the Phoenix Rises Again…

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.