A Creation Fable

Sometimes I find things in the folders on my hard drive and am surprised to find that I had written it then forgotten it. Below you will find one of these.


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It looked at the diagram again and made an adjustment. The first sphere lit. The device was working per specification. It made another adjustment. A second sphere appeared within the first sphere and expanded. It could clearly see the shock waves as it expanded to envelop the first sphere. With another adjustment a third sphere appeared and soon enveloped the first and second sphere. The Being smiled. 

"This is good and very good." It said aloud.

"Are you sure this is what you really want to do?" Asked a gentle voice that was not quite feminine.

"The program is booting as planned and the algorithm is sound. Why not?" It replied in not quite a masculine voice. "After all what harm can it do?"

"But it's not real."

"It as real as you or me."

"Explain how a mass of probability within a computing system can be real."

The First Being pointed at the now semi-silvered spheres. "It is well known that given set of dimensionality, a computing system can set up multiple parallel solutions to a problem."

"True."

"Then posing a question to such a system will cause it to seek a solution for all of the possibilities and return the optimum answer. All I am doing is looking for an answer."

"What is the question?"

"I want to understand energy dynamics"

"Energy Dynamics is a question? I thought Bayus answered that eons ago. What has this got to do with this programmatic system being real?"

"Ah! I must explain."

The not quite feminine Being nodded. 

The First Being replied. "I read Bayus and while that noble master gave a great broad stroked picture of the processes of energy dynamic and exchange I want to know about some of the finer points."

"Such as?"

"Love."

"Love?"

"Yes Love."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I. What makes love what it is? Why does it do what it does?"

"So you've created a programmatic system to simulate it? You are wasting your time."

"No actually I should know the moment after I put the final algorithm in place and set it to run."

"That's impossible!"

"Was impossible. I have crossed Bayus' work with Smeedol's and added quite a bit of Angrathor's Quantum stuff. Not to mention Davi."

"Wasn't Smeedol the one who created artificial life forms?"

"Yes and Angrathor was the true master of quantum computing."

"You are going to create artificial life forms?"

"Not exactly. Within their reality frame work they will be quite real and their reality will last forever. Within our frame work it will be only a moment."

"How are you going to get this to work?"

"That's where Davi's work comes in. Davi was the master of evolutionary selection algorithmics. I broke the evolutionary process into ten steps. What you see are the first three algorithmic steps running."

"And those are?"

"Consciousness, Intelligence, and Comprehension. These three are the basis of a being's existence. The next seven are the actual formulation of the  multi-dimensional evolutionary variables of the energy equation I am trying to solve."

"And those variables are?"

"Giving, Resistance, Balance, Expansion, Control, Creative Urge, and finally once these are in place and running the last algorithm, Mechanism, with provide the solution."

The First Being turned and motioned over the controls of the machine.

"I told them about these things and our conversation."

"Told? Told whom? There is only you and I here."

It pointed at the console. "Them. The first of the beings that live within it. They are my servants and messengers. They will assist in the evolution of the algorithm."

"I said before, Are you sure this is what you want to do? Aren't you afraid they will get out of control?"

"Without them the program won't work as planned. As for going out of control, that part of the program too... Let's take a look back in an eon or so and see how they have evolved."

"But what about control?"

"I'm not a control freak. They can do what they want within the limits of the program."

"But..."

"Stop worrying. Its good and very good. You'll see."

Smoke from Mexico

Here is one of the poems I wrote in 2000 which was included in the ACCAnthology Volume 1

Later I fed it to a speech synthesizer... [if you like that sort of thing... let me know I'll post a link to the mp3]

It's a cyberpunk in a small red capsule... a bit of free association and skewed plot...

A spoken-word by synthesized voice MP3 is available HERE

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Smoke from Mexico

Smoke from Mexico
Or maybe some Cloud from Bogata
or stolen memories from that desolate Lab
Outside 
Las Cruces, was it?

I don't really remember any more

I can't say what I want
Cos the memories are sealed

Yeah. They got to me.

It was not that hard.
If they want you
They'll get you.

Don't believe me?
Try to run when 
they've got your number.

The name is in the Database
The one you want.
She is alive.

They'll have erased me 
by the time you read this.
So don't come looking.
There won't be anything left to save.

I hear there is a shortage 
of major organic subsystems

never did like dealing bio-logics
didn't understand
how they could unravel a brain 
and reassemble it into a q-dot 'face.

Hear you're hunting him again.
good luck
Its the self that you don't know
that always spoils it.

You know that voice
you hear
there in the back of your mind 

the one that speaks to you
when you pick up the phone
and dial tone does not answer

the jarring sense that the escalator
should be moving
and it's not.

white noise.

the voice that sounds 
too much like the voice
you'd imagine Death to have.

A regen transformer
causes it to reverberate 
its well modulated ravings
like a long, long distance call
a hollow one-way rant

annoying beyond belief.

It's always *that* voice that tells you 
that you really bent over 
too far this time
this time they'll get you.

I know 
I'm rambling.
comes from having 
too much to think about 
and too little time

At least for now 
I can look out across 
the polluted water 
And see it 
see it rise like 
the life I have lived
Black, Billowing, Bellicose

I started there and I finished there.

What kind of life do you have
when it is only
a poetic fragment?
a snippet of code
easily rendered by an RNA sequencer?

What sense of truth is there?
The mathematics of billowing smoke
is more etherial and more beautiful 
that seeing the cloud itself.
But it can't be explained.

Why did I do those things?
Why did I leave you behind?

Look. 
Can you see the equation now?
I wasn't much of a Dad.
Hell I wasn't much of a human being.
but I left you where 
at least *I* 
wouldn't destroy you

The Smoke is changing to gray now
They've got some water to it.
I won't be here much longer
They'll come 
and that will be that.

What was that equation
Outside 
Las Cruces?

Or in the Cloud from Bogota?

A child?

A tear?

A sorrow I cannot undo?

I'd ask your forgiveness
but
The wind has changed 
I am finally lost
in gray
Smoke from Mexico

The Ship

This was another one of those vivid, waking dreams recorded on November 8, 2012 at 4:28 AM. The dream events are in the future. 

I do not claim any of this is real. I'm not a sleeping prophet... I just have one weirdly vivid waking dream imagination.

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Dream 6 - The Ship

Thursday, November 08, 2012

4:28 AM

We were out on the highway. Heading north along a two lane black-top road.   It was early afternoon on a blustery late fall day. The sun broke in and out of the clouds in the west but to the east there was a black thunderstorm which against all odds seemed to be slowly heading west down off the mountains . We were traveling north on highway 52 about 30 miles south of Magelena wide with mountains to the south, northeast, north and far west. 

It was then we saw the landing lights in the darkness of the thunder storm to the north east of us. We thought this to be very strange.  When the lights turned south in our direction heading down the arroyo which we were just crossing , it almost looked as if a Jumbo Jet had just turned  for a final  landing approach.

My assistant. Adele, asked if I would pull over so she could take a closer look. Thee was an abandoned ranch house and its out buildings just off the highway.

"Maybe this is one of the oddities you are always talking about."

Adele was highly intelligent, a clear headed thinker, and a "good girl" who had somehow adopted me as a 'father figure' which for the life of me I cannot understand .

 I pulled to the  side of the road. She pulled out her spotting gear and set it up.

After a moment she said. "Nigel, you're not going to believe this!"

"What? That some military twit is crashing himself on an endangered species' range habitat?"

"No.  Look! Tell me what you think."  She stood aside and I looked through the spotting scope.

I looked and focused the scope. "What the… That's not…"

I looked at her and she  looked at me expectantly.  After a moment I said. "It's not from around here. "

I pulled out my Comm and began to take a stream of still frame photos of the landing approach.  Each photo was automatically uploaded to my NodeSpace host. As it got closer, its unearthly appearance became clearer. It was  the size of a terrestrial "super-Jumbo" jets but looked like one of the blocky 'drop ship'  tactical transports from one of the old  science fiction movies.

"It's Alien?"

I nodded. "From the look of it, I'd say so…"

"But where is it from?" She asked pointlessly.

When it was about a quarter mile to the north of us at about 500 feet,  it suddenly turned to the west and began a vertical landing. We could see obvious combat damage to the ship's hull.

"Adele, I think we better get out of here."

"Yes."

I turned off the photo stream  while she stowed the scope. I opened the accelerator as  got on the road.  My Comm suddenly began ringing.  A voice only call. I answered.

"Yes?"

"Dr.Caruthers ? Dr. Nigel Caruthers?" The voice was of a young woman.  A whole series of impressions filled my head. Facts about the caller I could not possibly know. She was English, from the Midlands, highly intelligent, worked for an agency related to Terran Federation Military Intelligence, was military trained but had a degree in Anthropology,  loved rough sex and could be had if asked.  I cleared my  mind.

"Speaking."

"You have seen it?"

"Seen what?"

"We know where you are."

"And?"

"We have your photos."

"So?"

"Its not from around here. We have a team studying the photos.  Your clearance has been re-activated. We have transportation waiting for you at Highway 163. Which is about seven miles ahead of you."

"What about my assistant?"

"Arrangements will be made."

"What does  that mean?"

"You know the protocol when people see  things they are not supposed to see. She'll wake up soon at home and will not remember a thing other than she has been recovering from an illness. "

"Alright. I'll meet your agents in a few minutes." I cleared the connection.

"What was that about?" Adele asked.

"Who else? My ex-boss, The Government. They have transportation waiting for us just ahead."

She looked at me wide eyed. "Will we be safe?"

"They have given me assurances. It seems that the government does not know our visitors. And have asked for my assistance."

"You're going back?"

"They have not given me a choice."

We drove in silence for the few minutes  it took to get to the crossroads. We found a black MilSpec heavy utility transport  vehicle waiting. We provided identification and they politely collected our things. Soon we were underway headed south and west on

++++++++++++++++ fini +++++++++++++++++++++

I knew it was in New Mexico but I did not know exactly where. I knew that they were headed to The Very Large Array Radio Telescope  [34° 4'44.71"N  107°37'6.88"W ] which is 50 miles west of Soccoro, NM. So using  Google Earth I found the site where some of this takes place which is at the junction of Limestone Canyon and Highway 52 . For those of you who'd like to go look you'll find it here:   33°43'29.60"N  107°40'16.55"W

I've never been there.  I don't know anyone named  Nigel Caruthers or Adele. But I do [even now] remember portions of the dream. Especially the terror of the MilSpecs in the face of the unknown that picked up Caruthers. 

I suppose I could be a "Sleeping Writer". If so I'd like to develop the technique. These dreams go interesting places.

[Update]

I found out today that some where near the "Plains of San Augustin" is apparently an alleged UFO crash site that was in the same era as "Roswell". Amazing synchronicity.

Questions?

Comments?

Lonely Highway

This is the last song of the "Quintet for a One Way Street". Written in 1978. I was living in the suburbs of L.A. at the time. There are no tin roofs in L.A. -- its too hot... But strangely there are tin roofs in the place I live in South Carolina. Odd, eh?

Its a light Country rock song along the lines of Jimmy Buffet


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Lonely Highway

A rainy day in Paradise
With a broken Heart on the way
Sometimes you know I feel it
Just like those sad songs play
Sittin’ here for Hours
Tryin to say what I mean
Bout where I’ve been
And where I’m goin’
And What I’ve been in between

Love is a Lonely Highway
When the love songs come to the end
Some times I’ve been lucky though
To lose a lover and find a friend
Oh to lose a lover and find a friend

Pushin’ Down the Pavement
Followin’ old dreams around
Through empty alleys and one way streets
Listenin’ to the sound
Of rain drops on tin roofs
And the moanin’ of the wind
Wishin’ I could find a lover
Who was my lover and my friend

Love is a Lonely Highway
When the love song comes to the end
Some times I’ve been lucky though
To lose a lover and find a friend
Oh to lose a lover and find a friend

Well I guess it’s time to be goin’
I’ve said all I can say
Boy (girl) you know I love you
But Our destiny is in the way
You got a girl (man) Who loves you
I got a dream to find
So what’s the use of stayin’ here
When we’ve already made up our minds?

Love is a Lonely Highway
When love songs come to the end
Sometimes I’ve been lucky though
To lose a lover and find a friend
Oh to lose a lover and find a friend

Yeah Love is a Lonely Highway
When it all comes to the end
Some times I’ve been lucky though
I lost you
But you’re still my friend


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Happy Valentines Day!

Imaginary Skies

In 1978 I wrote a five part "musical poem" named "Quintet for a One Way Street inspired by the marriage of a young woman that I was acquainted. The poem consisted of five songs each in a unique musical genre:

One Way Street
Imaginary Skies
Star Dancer
Outsider
Lonely Highway

She wasn't a close friend or even someone I saw very often but there was something about her that made one think of  an Archetype... the "fairy tale princess" and then her polar opposite "the Evil Queen" and then the undifferentiated center "the innocent maiden"...

In Imaginary Skies each had a representation in my life at the time and so each of these Archtypes which were addressed in the lyrics..

I will leave it to your judgement as to whom I am speaking.

[UPDATE]
You can find a passable Mp3 recording of the song HERE
This was recorded as spoken word with music... all of which was

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Imaginary Skies

It's Heartbreak City
In the middle of the night
Flyin' thru a vacuum 
Lookin' for the light
That's hidin' some where 
Just behind your eyes
And beyond the dreams
Floatin' in Imaginary Skies

Just sitttin' here
I got my music playin
Trying to remember
What it was you was sayin'
Bout Love
And the warmed over lies
Consistin' of meaningless words
Driftin' in Imaginary Skies

It's time to go back
To the very start
Just for a moment
To replay my part
In that amateur play
On words and sighs
Staged in silk and satin
And Written on Imaginary Skies

There's Desperate silence
On this One way Street
Just waitin' for you
And my Dreams to meet
But its just a game 
For this tired dreamers eyes
Played out in sequence
Across... Imaginary Skies

+++++++++++++fini+++++++++++++++

comments?

Fiction 3

Written on June 22, 1998 at 1:20 AM

A conversation with an Imaginary Being

Her name is  Anemone de Windfluer, [Aura to her friends] who might possibly be considered as a manifestation of the Archetype of the Page of Swords from the Crowley Thoth Tarot.

This is one of several pieces that were "conversations" I had with her.

+++++++++++++++++++

Studio City, California, New World Order Time Domain

“There is an Unspoken Law of Karma which says: ‘If you follow a certain course of action almost anything is likely to be realized but some realizations are more likely that others.’ So what is actually going to happen if you do thus and so?  Those who teach the Law of Karma  have simplified this Unspoken Law. They did this because it is hard for the finite mind to understand the Reality behind reality. Karma is a Truth, but while it is true that all actions evoke a response, we can not know with a certainty what that response will be. We cannot know for an absolute certainty that heat will burn us or cold will freeze us but on the scale of finite understanding it is easier to say this is true.” - The Book of Reminders

I was angry. I had been awoken rather rudely. She had shoved my face into the sand and then ran away laughing. I chased the nameless young pixie along the wide flat beach. It was rather strange to be chasing a young woman along a strange beach when only moments ago I had been sleeping safe and snug in my grungy little apartment with all its creature discomforts.

She had a good 100 foot head start. She stopped and turned. She stuck out her tongue at me. Her hair no more than an inch long was much shorter than I remembered it. The maroon pants she wore today almost clung to her skin. With every step she took I could see her fanny jiggle. She had covered her chest by draping a rather sheer black cloth over her slim breasts and then pulling it under her arm pits and tying it in a big bow in back.

The wind lifted the clothe to display her perfection even as she taunted me. “You’re nothing but a lame ass old man. You couldn’t catch me if...”

“Wanna bet?” I snapped in reply.

“Sure. Just like in the old days: If you can beat me, you can...” Her reply broke off when I closed the gap between us and nearly caught her. She  darted away and then cheerfully called over her shoulder, “Eat ME!”

She ran off down the beach. I’m not much of a sprinter but I do O.K. in the long haul. It’s just a matter of pacing. She on the other hand was strictly a sprinter. She stopped every so often to catch her breath and to taunt me. Then off like a shot laughing at me, her fanny shaking and her feet tearing up the virgin sands.

It was a strange place. It had been hot when we started but it seemed to cool off. A thread of fog drifted in then another. Soon we entered a fog bank the Sun and the rest of the world was gone. There was only she running ahead and I chasing behind. The sand flying beneath our feet.

She seemed to be tiring. Her lead dropped to twenty five feet, twenty, fifteen, ten, five. I reached out to grab her.  At the last moment she darted to one side untouched. I landed face down in the sand. She laughed as she sprinted away to regain her distant lead.

“That’s as close as you’re ever likely to get, you dirty old man.” She called.

“You’re no prize either.” I replied rather lamely.

The contest wore on. She stopped more and more often. The beach had narrowed. Rock from ancient and now buried sea cliffs poked their heads from the sands. The ancient sea cliffs began to rise steeply out of the sands and narrowed the beach to no more than twenty five feet.

As we ran the cliffs continued to rise until the low hanging fog hid their crests. The fog dropped low and shrouded the world. Now there was only she and I and the sound of the sea and our laboring breath.

Dimly through the fog I could see the cliffs blocked the way of my quarry. They turned out across the beach an into the sea. Just when I thought I had her trapped, a sea cave came into view which ran underneath the cliffs. I could see dim light on the farther side. She sprinted into the cave.

I redoubled my efforts and narrowed the gap to a few feet but she began to pull away. Just as we exited the cave in desperation I tried to get an arm around her waist. I failed. As my arm reached for her she began to fade away  into thin air. Blink. She was gone. I tumbled into the sand.

I looked around. The fog on this side of the headland was even thicker. The moisture was almost a living presence. I could see no farther than a few feet.

I felt a profound sense of loss. She was gone and I was alone. Tears welled up in my eyes. I stood up and retraced my steps to the mouth of the sea cave. There was no sign of her footsteps. I walked through the cave. Again there was no trace of any footsteps. Not even my own. They were washed away by the tides.

I began to feel cut adrift and hopeless. As if the last hour was a replay of my whole life: chasing after an illusion which never existed. I sank down into the sand overwhelmed with futility and grief.
Through my tears, I cried to the empty air, “So you were nothing more than an Illusion and my whole life is dedicated to thin air.”

A hand touched my shoulder. Her voice clear and kind fell upon my ears, “Didn’t you know that Illusion is what makes life fun?”

I spun around in the sand startled and suddenly angry. “You tricked me. You deserve a spanking.”

She looked me in the eye and replied evenly, “Does a tree deserve a spanking because its a tree? Do you deserve to be spanked because you cherish your own illusions and give them greater importance than those around you?”

I felt as if I had been hit between the eyes. I found that there was nothing I could say in response to her questions.

After a long time of silence  question came to my mind. “Why?” I asked.

“Why what?”

“Why all of this? Why a dismal life? Why am I here? Why are you there?” I responded.

“I could take the easy way out and say ‘Why not?’ but that would not answer the questions you have asked. The first question is most easily answered as ‘The Gods and Powers will it to be so.’ That is not the answer you wished but a nebulous question begs a nebulous answer.”

“The second question is a little more interesting but still is in the line of most human questions. Let’s see... I’m sure it’s in the FAQ.”

“The what?”

“The FAQ.” She opened her hand and what appeared to be a laser printed manual appeared in her hand. It did not seem to be more than thirty pages long. She showed me the cover page which read:

Frequently Asked Questions

appearing in

the most ancient and excellent

 Book of Reminders:

Common Mortal Philosophical Questions

and their Immortal Answers

by Faraji al Jann,

Court Mage

to the Immortal Queen of Saba,

Elemental Sage and  Professor of Truth

 for the Eternal Gods

“Now let’s see here... Yes here it is. Section 23.3”

She flipped to the page. “Why a dismal life?” She read aloud.

 “Contrary to common belief, Life is not dismal because the Gods have willed it to be so. Nor is life dismal because you deserve to be punished and suffer for some current or past or even future failing.

The ‘goodness’ or ‘badness’ of life is the result of a statistical process much like tossing a pair of dice. The common man, calls this statistical process ‘Evolution’ but when it appears that his life is subject to the whims of Fates and Unknown Gods or Demons he calls it ‘Punishment’ or ‘Being cursed’ or even ‘Damned for all time.’

Nothing could be farther from the truth. One might as well say that a rain drop is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ because it does or does not fulfill its proper function by falling at a specific place or time.

We all have our duties and obligations to  fulfill. Even those who are called ‘Gods’ or ‘Immortals’ have their place [See Section 1.3 - “If there is only one God, why are there so many of you?” also see Section 17.0 - “What is my Purpose?”]. The main fallacy the common man makes is that the dice are ‘fair.’

The truth is that the ‘dice of fate’ are manipulated by the conscious or unconscious awareness of the one who casts them. [See Section 81.7 “What is the Role of the Observer with Quantum Processes?”]. When one becomes aware of the specific properties of these ‘dice’ and their abilities, they can be manipulated as a conscious act of will.

Most are not aware of these hidden properties and they roll the die and achieve the success or failure they unconsciously desire.

Be aware that there are limitations to the manipulations which can be achieved. Just as you cannot roll ‘13’ with two six sided die, you cannot achieve absolute perfection in one all encompassing act of will. Why? It seems that the One who created us all wanted us to take the time to have some fun with the ‘fate’ we create for ourselves.”

She stopped reading, “Does that answer your question?”

“Let me see that.” She handed the FAQ to me.

I flipped the pages to the answer of Section 1.3 and read,

“The answer to this common question is centered in the perspective of the questioner. The straight answer is as follows:

“There is only one Force or Power in this universe. That Power is just one of many Powers among the myriad universes which exist and they in turn are but aspects of an even greater thing that even we, the immortals, cannot even conceive its true nature. [Related question: “Which God should we Worship?” See Section 1.4]

It is not obvious to most of those that ask this question that those entities which appear ‘godlike’ are not gods in the same way as the One Power of this universe.

To a blood cell, the Heart is a ‘god’ that impels the cell to move along a given path. The Lungs are a ‘god’ because they give the cell Life Giving oxygen. The Liver is a ‘god’ because refines the blood removing poisons. And so on for each organ of the body, each organ is a ‘god’ from the cell’s perspective because it does not have the same perspective as the ‘godlike’ organ.

Yet from a different perspective, these body organs are not fully ‘aware’ the whole body of which they are a part. Are these body organs ‘gods’ because they fulfill one or two important functions? Still another perspective is that the organs themselves are made of countless millions of specialized cells not unlike the blood cell which work unceasingly together for a common purpose.

From the view point of a Liver cell or brain cell, the Circulatory system is a ‘god’ because it brings life bearing food and oxygen and takes away poisons. Looking at it from this view, the blood cells could be called ‘the Priests of the Sacred Blood’ or ‘The Givers of Life.’ As you can see from this example, ‘Gods’ and what is ‘godlike’ are a matter of perspective.

Asking ‘Why are there so many Gods?’ is like asking ‘Why does my body have so many organs?’ The short answer is that the ‘Gods’ are required ‘organs’ for this universe and its related environs.”

I skipped down to Section 1.4 and read,

Using the same example expounded above [See Section 1.3 - If there is only one God, why are there so many of you?], There is no god or Power which requires worship except to fulfill that form or function to which one is aligned.[See Section 17.0 - What is my Purpose?] There have been attempts over the Millennia to deny the Gods their due but these attempts are doomed to failure. Again using the example above [Section 1.3], would a blood cell deny the existence of the Heart or Liver exists or that they have an important function within the body? Not likely.

I looked up at her and asked, “Wherever did you get this?”

“Oh they give it out as part of our training.” She replied.

“Training?”

“Of course, How the hell else are we supposed to learn to speak with and understand contrary poets who are refusing to fulfill their function.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

She giggled, “Why don’t you look at Section 17.”

I flipped the pages to Section Seventeen. I happened to notice that the page number. It was Page 33. Odd. There did not seem to be that many pages. I counted them but sure enough there were thirty three pages. On a whim I flipped to almost the last page. Page 1456. Not possible. I turned the page and thought a number: 9612. Sure enough the page number noted at the bottom was page 9612.

“Is this a magic book, or what?” I asked.

“Yes. Now read...” She dimpled in reply

“Section 17.” I finished the sentence. I flipped a single page to Section Seventeen. I liked this idea of a random access printed book.

Section 17.0 - “What is my Purpose?

As we have seen above [See Section 1.1 - The Quantum Nature of God and Section 1.3 - “If there is only one God, why are there so many of you?”] The Universe is the ‘Body’ of the One Power. The Gods, Angels, Jann, Elementals, and the rest of the lesser immortals act as functional organs or power centers for the One.

In this universe humankind stands at the threshold of the macroscopic realm of the Gods and the microscopic realm of the fundamental quantum physical fields upon which this reality and its related time domains are based [See Section 91 - What is Time and/or Time Domains?].

What then is humankind’s purpose? Are they simply ‘Lurkers at the Threshold’ which the statistical process of Evolution has cast aside? Or are they something more?

They play a more fundamental role in creation that was previously believed [See Section 81.7 “What is the Role of the Observer with Quantum Processes?”]. After much research and debate the consensus is that humankind is the optimum ‘sub-function’ between the Macroworld and the Microworld.

It has been shown time and again that humankind has the ability to manipulate both the macroworld and the microworld. They can interact with physical and non-physical time domains [See Section 91 - What is Time and/or Time Domains?].  

What counsel should you offer when asked by a human “What is my purpose?” [Counseling techniques are covered in a separate FAQ. Please refer to it for specifics]. Ask her what she is drawn to do? What makes her come alive? What activities makes her feel fulfilled? Ask these questions, and if she answers herself honestly then she will have found her purpose.

[Please note that prior method of “decreeing fates” has been discontinued in all time domains after Time Coordinates !QZ.35.1.GGY-HHH.QII-66-!31-QII.97.34 Central Reference Time Domain. See Circular QQY-7356 for further details.]

I looked up at her. She smiled and said as the cave faded from view, “So go and sleep on these things and I will see you again tomorrow.”

“What is Reality coming to?” I thought as I rolled over in my sleep and started a different dream.

+++++++++++++ fini +++++++++++++++++

Was this a real conversation? As it did not happen in this specific, particular reality,  the answer is of course No... but if one were to eliminate that specification of reality co-ordinates then the answer is an emphatic "Yes!"

The book noted above may or may not be imaginary depending on how you look at it. I've been working on a collection of original  'wisdom' quotations which I named "The Book of Reminders" and it contains such gems as:

"In the lair of a dragon there is great wealth, but friend, also remember there is a dragon."

or

"From the view point of God, the universe is nothing but a handful of sand."

or

"You are here, but are you Now?"

or

"The Mirror is envious of what it sees."

or

In an abrasive stream one will find smooth stones."

or what has become personal tag line:

"A Strong House is built on a strong foundation. What are your beliefs built upon?"

Comments? Questions? 

Synchronocity

Sometimes the really weird happens... Things, places, events, even words seem to secretly collude to make a normal situation odd.

Let me show you then the lyrics to a song I wrote and tell you an odd story to go with them..

[UPDATE]
You can find a passable Mp3 recording of the song HERE  [My Google Drive]

++++++++++

Sleep, Little Flowers

Sleep, Little Flowers
Sleep, until Spring
The Winter Winds are coming
Who knows what they will bring?
Tomorrow is Tomorrow
Today is Today
Yesterday is a mem'ry
Just fading away

Sleep, Little Flowers
Sleep, until Spring
The Winter Wind is with us now
Hear the cold winds sing?
Sorrow is Sorrowed
Lover is Belov'd
Let us light the candles
Remember we are loved

Sleep, Little Flowers
Sleep, until Spring
When the cold ice melts
The young song birds, they will sing
Four thousand years
Just like yesterday
Stop for a moment
Hear this wand'r pray

Wake, Little Flowers
The winter time is passed
Here are the joyous days
Come to us at last
The Melody is memories
The Singer is the Song
The Road to Jerusalem
Has been here all along

Yes, Wake, Little Flowers
The Spring is fin'ly here
A Rainbow is shining now o'r'
A sky brimmed with joyful tears
The image in the likeness
The doer in the Deed
The Truth of life is simple
Love is all you need.

Wake, little flowers
Hear this simple song
I, who, am unworthy
Have found where I belong
Yes let us light the candles
Break Bread and share the wine
I lift my heart rejoicing:
"Baruch Ata Adonai:
All I am is Thine!      

So what is odd?

I wrote this on the evening of the day I met with a Rabbi to discuss converting to Judaism. Two days later my wife brought home a Siddur [a prayerbook] which I did not open until two weeks later...

I was home alone having lit the Shabbat candles  on page 134, toward the bottom in a translation of a prayer from the Afternoon Shabbat service I read:

“Your strength is Always with us,
O God Your compassion does not Fail.
Winter winds are Your messengers,
summer dew a sign of your grace.”

My mouth dropped open at reading those words: “Winter winds are Your messengers.”

Why? Because I had “unknowingly” written something very similar in the lyrics to “Sleep Little Flowers”.

I was [and am still] amazed to find reference to a prayer I had never read before from a Shabbat service that I have never attended in the words which I wrote as lyrics.

It could be said "It's a coincidence."

Maybe.

Maybe not.

 

Simulation

I'm sure by now you might see that I  [upon occasion] have extremely strange dreams. They don't happen all the time. Over the last several years I've taken to recording the vivid ones.

Below you will find yet another example of a waking dream discussing an alternate view of reality. This one was recorded on as noted below.

++++++++++++

Friday, August 03, 2012

Simulation

 They were having one of their "what if…?" discussions when he asked aloud. "Why do we suffer so much? It is as if there is no proportion to what happens to any one individual. It's as if each event has no causal heritage."

"Why do you say that?"

"Imagine that there is a computer simulation which takes place within an 'environment' and within this environment there are 'agents'  which are given attributes and parameters or values. Their purpose is to 'live' in the simulation, following its own rules based upon the settings of the environment, reacting with the settings of the attribute values."

"So?"

"So the agents are given base class parameters  of who and what they are and the programmer lifts their finger and the start button is pressed. Events occur based upon causal relationships. But since the programmer is looking for something specific and wants to speed the simulation's evolutionary and adaptation process they changed the rules in regard to causal relationships. Instead of there being clear punishment for bad behavior sometimes it was rewarded and sometimes good behavior was punished. Sometimes events occur that had no causal reason and an agent is rewarded or punished."

"What's the point of the simulation? Why would the programmer want to make those rule changes? What you've described does not sound ethical."

"I'm not sure there is a point to the changes made in the simulation yet but what is unusual is that some how something weird happened."

"What might that be?"

"The agent's parameters evolved  to varying degrees over the life of the simulation but seemingly out of no where a new attribute appeared -- consciousness. Up until that point in the simulation the agents followed the 'rules'  now suddenly the agents became self-aware and with it came the qualitative experience called emotion.  It was an unexpected mutation. In addition the agents developed 'off line' storage in the form of writing.

"What was the effect of this change?"

"Now the agents could  consciously see and experience the simulation but were not aware of the  non-linear nature of the simulation's rules."

"Non-linear?"

"By that I mean there is not a one to one relationship between action and result.  Given varying degrees of heaven and hell which did not correspond to proper causality these self-aware agents made up justifications and rationalizations concerning good and evil and reward and punishment."

"So what is it you are trying to say?"

"Look around."

"This is a simulation.  My God..."

"The proper term, I believe, is 'My Programmer…'"

++++++++++++
©2014 by j.h. crook.
all rights reserved

Tuneless Tune

One Sunday afternoon in 1993 I laid down for a nice little nap.

When I woke up I feverishly scrawled down the following lyrics.

[UPDATE] A slow version mp3 is HERE

++++++++++++

Tuneless Tune

Verse 1:

After show time in Neverland
I had no place to be
so I stumbled down that Yellow Brick Road
to see what I could see

Now Babylon and Uruk
Were filled with a blowin' dust
An' from Pittsburgh to Paris
Was a sea of rust

So I stumbled blindly onward
To that place between west and east
And Fell into the darkness
They call the Belly of the Beast

Chorus:
At a bar set in Dreamtime
I pull'd myself up a chair
To fill myself with memories
Of which I was unaware

Verse 2:

Well, there sat Cap'n Ahab
A call'd the Wand'rin' Jew
And on his lap sat the tyrant
Known as Little Boy Blue

Their Love was a strange one
As strange as it was new
The glimmer in the old man's eyes
Said all the rumors were true
At the bar sits the Dutchman

Lost now between his beers
All that sailing from where to when
Has finally stripped his gears

Chorus:
In a bar set in Dreamtime
I pull'd myself up a chair
To fill myself with memories
Of which I was unaware

Verse 3:

Mata Hari and Little Egypt
Are kissing in the darkened room
Their loving fills the emptiness
With a passion we all consume

When in comes the Jester
Followed by his friend the Thief
While the Thief steals from all of us
The Jester gives comic relief

Now Siduri is the barmaid
Who once loved a famous king
But he died five thousand years ago
And didn't leave her a thing

Chorus:
'Cept a bar set in Dreamtime
I pull'd myself up a chair
To fill myself with memories
Of which I was unaware

Verse 4:

Well Nero fiddles for the band
And Gabriel blows the horn
While Jellyroll slaps the ivory
And sings of love forlorn

All the while I sat there
In the Belly of the Beast, My friend
I laughed and cried for all of us,
All our hubris and our sin

When I finally stumbled outta there
It must a been 'bout the Crack of Doom
I took with me only these memories
And the words to this tuneless tune.

Chorus:
From a bar set in Dreamtime
I pull'd myself up a chair
To fill myself with memories
Of which I was unaware  


+++++fini+++++++

Now one might wonder why this is odd. I dreamed this. Think about it.

Comments? Questions? Objections?

©2014 by j.h. crook.
all rights reserved

Work

Over the last 25 years I've had numerous encounters with vivid waking dreams. I'd like to share and explore some of them with you here. I have no agenda.  I make no claim at all that the contents of these dreams are "true" or "real". Do not claim they are wise or meaningful--  they are simply words strung in a row that my fingers spilled on to a computer screen after waking from the dream.

We will begin with a simple mystic tale I saw in a "dream".

 It is entitled "work"

-----

Wednesday, November 02, 2011

work

He came in the evening as he often did. We'd talk of things great and small. Of things that needed doing and things that needed healing. 

Sometimes he would teach me something new.  But that day things were different. The air seemed to sing with a difference. The meaning of something or maybe everything was going to be revealed or changed.

He said without preamble. "Let's do some work."

Now 'what is work?' you might ask,  a responsive question  might be: 'What is it that you do when you give something meaning and then hang it in the starry firmament of your consciousness?"

So he and I would work. 

Yet. 

As I said, that night was different in a way I could not fathom. I set my mind and body aside as was needed and the work began. 

There are no words for work. 

There is no teaching it. 

Never can be.  

There are descriptions.

Work can be described in too many glib words such as, " To Work is to evolve your  consciousness  by a willful process. " 

But glib words are not 'work', the words only confuse the issue and never truly describe the process.  

Descriptions are like watching a great dance or seeing  Starry Night but the description is not the dance nor the actions of a mad master painter upon a canvas.

There are techniques to be learned to do work.

The foundations learned: 

          Calm the mind and body. 

          Let them do what they do 

then:  

          close the door to let them do it.  

Abilities are developed:  

To see beyond. 

To see within.  

To float in the sea  of consciousness and listen to the breathing of the self.  

Then to hear another's breathing. 

Then to hear all of the  breaths of all of those who breathe. 

And then all of those who ever have or ever will breathe. 

Life is breath, that breath is One.  

To breath one breath is to breath all of them. 

Going and returning. 

Returning and going. 

One.

Ignorance is unlearned and abated: 

Prejudices revealed and then set aside as illusions. 

When you work, you work with the truth as it is, not as you have mistakenly distorted it.

Then  finally"

work. 

True work: 

Perfecting the world. 

Perfecting the self. 

Lifting others. 

Lifting self. 

Creating things, new then making them real in this world. 

This is the reason you are here.

Where can one find these things? Open any book to a random page but open it with a different intention.  For example , It might start on page 42 but for me a key answer was on page 43 waking  with a stone under its head. 

My answer might not be yours. 

Yours might be that quote of Cicero in Sagan's book. 

 Or the falling of a leaf. Or  an equation in a book buried in the stacks. 

A sunrise. 

A sunset. 

A picture. 

A voice. 

A song.  

You might find one of these things when you turn a random corner but open your mind to new possibilities. 

So we worked that evening. I opened my eyes to new things.  And I learned. Some time  after, I slept.

Then I woke alone.

Who is my father?

Where is my father?

Who am I?

Where am I?

Who should I be?

Where should I be?

Who is breathing?

Where is the breath coming from?

Difficult questions always seem to  have simple answers. 

Then the realization-- Simple questions, difficult answers.

Breathe.

See.

Work.

++++ fini +++++

Comments? Discussion? Objections?

I'd love to hear it.

©2014 by j.h. crook.
all rights reserved