Saturday, February 22, 2014


Pounding Stone at Confluence:
Bottom of Reservoir in Drought Year

   That night Peter mentally envisioned the landlord and scanned his body. Peter found a streak of black in the landlord’s brain and a lot of images of doctors and nurses in his aura.
   "I’m pretty sure the landlord has a brain tumor," Peter told Cashing the following morning.
   "I have a feeling one reason you know that is because you touched the gem of Yesod, the sphere of the Moon, and you already have psychic tendencies," Cashing said.
   "When you meet with him, tell him that you know he has cancer and that I will try to help him."
   "Do you think he’ll believe me?" Cashing asked. "I mean, I believe you, but he'll think I'm out of my freakin' mind, and he'll either beat the crap out of me or laugh me out of his office."
   "Just do me a favor and tell him that you know. Also, make sure you take those signatures and letters with you. Let him know we’re not finished yet," Peter emphasized.
   "You got it, man," Cashing said. "I’m ready for this guy, I think."
Newt and Pestle in Mortar
   Having some time to kill before the meeting, Justin drove out to the foothills. He stood at the edge of the forest and gazed down at the denuded slopes of a reservoir that was now, in the drought, a wasteland, the river flowing as it had before the dam was built, revealing bridge abutments and an old road etched along the banks. If one stepped beyond the tangle of roots projecting into the reservoir and scrambled down the slope on loose rock and sand, as Justin had recently done, one could hike along the river on an old trail submerged for fifty years to ancient village sites of Native Americans, past a chimney with one name carved in several places into the brick.
   Standing at the end of the dirt road, Justin unexpectedly felt tears welling in his eyes, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. His family had come out to the river many times, before they began vanishing one by one, and the dirt road, washed out in places, reminded him of those times thirty years before, when he had taken his family for granted. But it was more than the loss of his family members; he had felt a sudden connection to the earth soul, to a peace that transcended time and place, a peace which had permeated the physical world before any life as we know it, and which would remain long after the human race was gone. He had only felt that connection a few times since his childhood, and it always reminded Justin of his father, who seemed especially in tune with the peace of the earth soul.
Creek Near Native American Village Site

   But it was more than that. Justin knew these village sites as if he were gazing from the end of the old road into his own subconscious mind, or the collective subconscious, and he felt desolated even as he felt a deep connection with the earth soul, as if he, along with the tribe, had suffered the experience of genocide. And now, as he gazed at the denuded slopes and the river flowing peacefully as it once had before the dam was built, he recognized the partner of genocide, the ecocide that made a wasteland of lush woodland forest.
   It was so quiet. Justin was startled by a newt rustling leaves next to the road. Suddenly he understood another aspect of the magical symbol of Tiphareth, the central sphere on the mystical Tree of life. Tiphareth, meaning Beauty, contained a black crucifix in front of a bright yellow sun, the cross symbolizing, to Justin, the crucifixion of the soul within the physical body, the transmutation of force into form and vice versa. But now Justin understood the symbol in terms of the vision of sorrow. Everything was transient, so sorrow was inevitable, but when Justin remembered the man on the cross, he understood that the greatest blessing can occur during the worst suffering and desolation, that the greatest transformation of pain into courage and love sometimes manifested in the worst circumstances.
Ancient Trail to Native
American Village Site
   Justin hiked back to his car and headed to his meeting with the landlord. At the appointed time, Cashing was quickly ushered into the landlord’s office.
   "Do you know why you’re here?" the landlord asked.
   "Because you want to make a deal?" Cashing replied.
   "Because I want you to take a long look at me before I crush you," the landlord said.
   "I don’t understand how a man who has cancer can talk like that to other people," Cashing stated.
   The landlord looked surprised. "How did you know that?" he asked. "Nobody else knows. I’ve made sure of that."
   "I have a wise friend who knows many things," Cashing replied.
   "Don't give me that bullshit," the landlord said. "Tell me or I’ll see that you don't step foot out of this office." The landlord pressed a button and two very large men stepped through the door.
   "Okay, okay. You’re not going to believe this. Just bear with me here a second," Cashing muttered.
   "You have two minutes," the landlord replied.
   "Okay, okay. I have a friend. And this friend has visions. Not only does he have visions, but I'm pretty sure he can heal people too."
   One of the bodyguards hit Cashing on the side of the head.
   "Okay, wait a minute. Just listen. The doctors thought I had cancer too, lung cancer. I don’t know how he did it, but my friend saw the cancer in a vision, and somehow the cancer went away. I think he healed me. I know it sounds totally crazy, but he wants you to know that he'll try to help you."
   The bodyguard raised his fist again, but paused.
   "You’re saying that this friend of yours somehow envisioned my brain tumor even though he has never met me?" the landlord laughed.
Pounding Stone with Pestles
   "Yeah, that’s what I’m saying," Cashing replied. "He knows who you are. Just knowing your name and what you look like is enough for him. And he said that he’d be willing to help you too. Did I mention that?"
   The landlord motioned and the bodyguard stepped back. "You really expect me to believe this nonsense?" the landlord asked. "Do you know who I am? I don't play games, Mr. Cashing."
   "Look, I know the score. I can only guess how he does it, but I'm here, aren't I? Knowing him has made me realize the power of focused thought. I mean imagine for just one moment that the mind has the power to transcend certain physical limitations. You can see how the human mind has been able to change the environment in truly amazing ways throughout history. But imagine that through concentrated thought we are also able to affect each other on a basic level, a subconscious level. We can heal each other or make 
Pestles on Pounding Stone
each other sick. We can raise each other to the level of angels or reduce each other to the level of beasts through the power of the mind because at some primal level we are all connected. Each of us is an energy field within a vast, cosmic energy field, and everything is connected. We just need to harness that energy by focusing every aspect of our being, our spirit, mind and body, on whatever we intend to do. 
     "I firmly believe now that to be truly healed physically we have to heal ourselves and each other on the emotional, mental, and spiritual levels, and I am almost completely certain that my friend can establish a profound connection with almost anyone, even you. He can touch people on a deep, subconscious level. I think everyone is capable of doing that, but somehow he has developed the ability to a very high degree. This is beyond everything that our society wants us to believe, I know. I don't think I would have believed it myself if I hadn't experienced it. He challenges my beliefs every day in one way or another just by being himself. I guess that's why I'm here. Frankly, I don’t know why he would want to help you. All I know is that you might have a chance if you just give him a chance. From what I understand everything else has failed for you up to this point. Am I right? What have you got to lose?" Cashing was starting to sweat.
   The landlord looked Cashing over. "Very interesting, Mr. Cashing. You realize I’ll break your kneecaps if this doesn’t work," he stated flatly.
   "Yeah, I realize that now," Cashing replied, gazing at the box of signatures that he had placed on the landlord’s desk.

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