So what, Merry! lots of people write poems.
True - so perhaps it's time we re-evaluated what they're really
doing.
You honestly believe they bust the grid?
No.
Well, make up your mind won't you. One minute you're telling me
your Spells blew the old grid apart, and now you're denying it.
No Zie, I'm using words carefully - for words have power to make
or break, to evolve or unevolve this our reality.
So isn't that what I just said - you believe it's true.
No, it has nothing to do with belief. Certain things are evidently
true unless you're operating from a state of collective denial and preprogrammed
mind-think.
Oh, thanks a bunch.
Don't mention it.
But how can you honestly claim it's evident that your Spells blew
the old grid apart? Where's the proof?
It's evident for anyone who's willing or able to see the proof.
Now imagine I held up a book before your face and said "This is the
Bible!" Supposing our civilisation had long since given up reading - and
most books were suppressed because the powers that be controlling our reality
didn't want people to start reading again. Supposing everyone who claimed to
have a book was publicly ridiculed, and the ones who claimed to be able to read
them were practically stoned to death as witches or charlatans.
Yes. But that doesn't prove you're really holding up a Bible.
No, but it goes to show that my proof would be meaningless to you
if a. you yourself were unable to read, and b, your were unwilling to
countenance the possibility that the authorities might be wrong or deliberately
misleading you.
Back to conspiracy theory are we, Merry?
On the contrary - we've arrived at the understanding that there is
no conspiracy - merely ignorance.
?! I can't believe I'm hearing this. You're actually insulting
people just because they don't believe your assertions.
Again you use the word "believe". No Zie, I want no one
to believe anything I say. Whatever I may say is only of value to people who
are ready for it, who are already actively learning to read. They may find my
words inspiring and they'll be able to evaluate whether or
not what I'm saying is true. Proof, not belief, is the only basis to move
forwards. As for "ignorance" being an insulting term - let's take a
step back from righteous indignation and consider, for a moment, what the word
is derived from.
Er... the verb to ignore - I expect.
Exactly. It hardly means someone is stupid. It's merely an
observation that some people for whatever reason, either choose to ignore
information commonly available, or haven't yet come across that information.
But it's important to add that the term "ignorant" need not and
should not be voiced in an abusive manner. There's nothing terrible about being
ignorant. Even willful ignorance is acceptable, for each of us is scriptwriting
the narrative of our life, and sometimes the character on stage has to pretend
not to have seen or not to know what in fact is obvious - in order to advance
the plot and facilitate a greater discovery later in the play. The great
unveiling, the denouement comes through some kind of crisis resolution process
- a make or break situation which is exciting and fun to watch unfolding, if it
hangs in the balance till the final scene. This is the drama we thrive on -
which we are helping to create - so there really is no need for judgement or
criticism - whether overt or implied. It doesn't actually matter whether people
do "a" or "b", neither does it matter whether they think
"a" or "b", for the truth is always more than either
"a" or "b" - I assure you.
Then why do you insist your book of Spells blew the old grid
apart if it doesn't matter in the slightest? Why are you trying to inform or
educate me? Why not just let me remain comfortably in my state of ignorance or
denial?
Ah Zie, that's like asking why I kick you the ball when we're both
standing on a football pitch wearing football boots,
or why I pass you the
bread when we're sitting at table together. You're not obliged to kick the ball
back or take a piece of bread, though it's customary to do so. Let's not worry
about "why" - because whatever my reasons are, they're likely to be
as varied and elusive as the proof for whatever I'm currently asserting. Let's just
assume that I do whatever I do because it pleases me, and because I'm creating
story, even by talking to you.
What do you mean?
Well, somewhere in the vastness of the omniverse, somewhere within
the hyper-abundance of conscious reality - whatever you and I are discussing
will appear as story.
Are you sure? I mean, how could that be?
Oh, things like that are bound to happen - not least because our
conversation isn't half as random as it appears. It's all a bit like a large,
interconnected piece of music.
Or fractal geometry?
Precisely. So if we're having this conversation on Alpha Centauri,
then likely as not there's someone on Earth or some other planet writing the
almost identical story.
But...
You realise that we're all, in fact, transponders - sending and
receiving messages throughout the universe, throughout the limitless field of
conscious-awareness. That's how it is, but don't ask me to prove it because I
have no desire to push you into believing I'm "right". I have no
desire whatsoever to be "right" or "left", for that matter.
The truth is far more interesting, exciting, magical and romantic.
Romantic? You've gotta be kidding. The truth is straight-laced and
at times somewhat offensive.
Listen Zie - whatever the truth is - neither you nor I will either
succeed in nailing it down - for we are creatures of the quantum stream - the
infinite flow of consciousness - and the more we shift from trying to fix
things down on plywood board, to taking that board and using it to surf the
waves that are constantly breaking on the shore of our conscious-awareness, the
sooner we're going to start having a love-affair with life, rather than a long,
slow, drawn-out divorce.
Oh.
Oh indeed! Or you could round it at the end with a warm, smiley
mmmm :-)
Like this: Ommmmm :-)
Nicely done - and doing so, you could switch from the cerebral
cortex to the conscious-awareness, softly, gently, warmly.
Zie kind of flips the switch - mmmm - letting the mind muscle relax
for a moment or two.
Just feel where you are in yourself. Feel whatever the infinitude
of All-that-is is currently saying to you and sharing with you.
And for some reason Zie's suddenly aware of the abundance, the
infinitude of data that's coming in to him from All-that-is, like waves lapping
on the shore. Completely absorbed, utterly spellbound - he doesn't even have
the opportunity to wonder why it isn't always like this - why it's so easy this
time - so busy is Zie receiving, feeling and becoming aware of what usually remains beneath the radar of conscious-awareness.
So while you're feeling nice and relaxed Zie, let me read you one
of the Spells and see what you feel - Merry reads the Frog. [see Appendix below]
The finities have aligned. It's... breath-taking.
The poem?
No, not the poem! The finities - they seem to go on for ever and
ever, like a vast interstellar honey-comb lattice - it's mind-blowing. How does it happen? How did you do it Merry?
Oh, genius I expect.
No, really? Tell me how. I want to do the same, if I can.
Of course you can. You just need to be absolutely authentic.
Authentic.
Yep - authentic, as in author, authorise, authority...
But how? How did you do it?
It was easy. I was just writing children's poems. Nothing amazing.
I wan't trying to impress anyone. I just let the Spells have their way and participate in the creative process. It was a relationship - you might say. Plus the fact that I was in love at the time.
Ah! Maybe that explains it?
That explains why I was temporarily able to escape my usual state
of pig-headedness, just long enough to let the magic seep in.
But if you were in love - how come you didn't write love poems?
I don't know. There's no rhyme or reason to it.
But...
Rhyme and reason are what people find with hindsight - when trying
to explain why something seems so amazing - because instead of seeing the finities align
as you just did - they have some vague kind of feeling that this is
"powerful" but can't really explain why - so the rational mind does
its best to fill in the gaps.
But the finities - how come they slide into perfect alignment -
these are just words on a page, nothing more.
No Zie, the words are just words, but the poem is not the words,
in the same way you are not just the cells or the atoms within you. It's like a
drum. If the drum skin is too thick, too tight or not tight enough you don't
get the right sound - and if the person playing it doesn't feel the instrument,
doesn't become one with it - you just hear noise. But there's a phase lock -
when everything is just right - and two become one - your transponder fires up
- simultaneously sending and receiving - outside time - outside space - because
chicken or egg we can't say who or what is leading the process - for right now
we're One - it is - I am - and poetry is a state without borders, without
boundaries, a oneness, an allness, an isness of be - none of which means very
much if you don't see it, feel it or know it.
Ah.
A few minutes silence as Zie and Merry dot dot dot - riding the
quantum stream.
So did you... er
Yes? Did I what?
Oh, I was just wondering - you said you were in love...
Oh that!
Sorry for intruding.
No need to apologise - I brought it up. Did I marry her?
Yes.
Tell me Zie - having just seen the finities lined up throughout
the entire universe - what do you imagine the answer to be?
Well, it's just I've never seen her here.
No, she isn't here, so in that sense the answer is no - a big
fail.
Oh dear.
But that's only half the answer - the other half awaits when you
tune in to the Spells and ask who or what is present throughout.
Magic.
Precisely. Magic - real magic which transforms everything - which
leads us back into the allness...
The oneness...
The isness... Sooner or later it's inevitable that this vast,
love-inspired force will dissolve the last barrier.
You mean death?
No.
Then what?
The barrier which is still keeping me apart from my wholeness, of
which she is an integral part.
But you said it was a fail.
Which it was, but an epic fail is needed if the script-writer is
in the process of setting up a truly blockbusting story end - which ties everything
back together again - which is what we're, in fact, all doing.
In which case we all need to embrace the pain of losing - is that
what you're saying.
Yes or no - why would I choose, why take sides?
Hardly a satisfying answer.
No, but it leads to this...
Merry recites the Frog one more time - and this time Zie feels the
full force of love that wove the spell - and sees Merry in another part of the
spiral - dancing, flying, co-creating magically with his beloved - and feels
the most intense pleasure and pain pang of love - which almost rips his heart
out.
So you see, dear Zie, by not having her here in 3D, we're able to
experience a love more, not less intense, just as long as I continue to allow
the magic to grow, and to merge with the greater picture where we are together
in a way we couldn't hope to be, down here in tra la la dee - where nothing is
quite what it seems to be.
Appendix
- a love poem...
A
frog sat on his log and sighed,
Something
was wrong, something empty inside,
He
gazed in the water, tried eating a fly,
But
still felt unhappy, and didn’t know why.
The
frog wasn’t lazy, it wanted to know
What
was making it sigh, the cause of its woe,
So
it put on a jacket, then straightened its tie,
And
when it was ready it called to the sky:
“Oh
sky overhead you are mighty and wise,
Protector
of frogs and provider of flies,
With
rain you replenish the ponds down below,
With
sunlight you warm us and make the plants grow,
Dear
sky in your mercy, please help me to see
The
cause of the emptiness troubling me.”
Lost
in a trance frog stared up above,
And
there in a vision caught sight of a dove
That
was flying around, and seemed to be saying
“Come
join me, I’ll answer the prayer you were praying.”
Frog
leapt in the air, as if in a dream,
And
found himself flying high over the stream
That
flows to his pond from a field lush and green,
And
there at its source, he heard the dove say:
“This
water brings life to the tadpoles who play,
This
water brings life to all creatures who use it,
Its
spirit is in you, its spirit today
Needs
your help little frog, needs the heart of a poet,
To
see it and praise it, to love it and know it.”
Frog
sat on his log, something stirring inside,
He
remembered the dove and his magical flight,
He
took a deep breath and started to croak,
And
the song of the water of life now awoke
In
the heart of the frog. As he sang he could feel
The
song was alive, with the power to heal,
That
all would be well, for magic is real
When
it shines like a star, when it spins like a wheel.
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