tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71073563756092438862024-03-13T16:30:35.348-07:00GEMS ON THE TREE OF LIFEClick on the links (in colored print) to take other paths. Fiction, Poems, Essays, Music, and Illustrations Copyright 2015, by Jim RobbinsJim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.comBlogger14125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-66631349174181019902016-11-27T14:19:00.000-08:002016-11-28T10:06:48.788-08:00MR. MELLIFLUOUS'S MUSICAL JOURNEYS <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbZH3kUUEoejch1FYRIOTwp1tNeU1FSGUooRoB4U8h-EGOmgXui1hN0xy6_EOT8DAszMDNP5RFLX-X8v1QKHUtTZ86ppgkl2pnsGOacwktOg439UuGj-wTXHiIxtUk3ZFPak0uDusYeU/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbZH3kUUEoejch1FYRIOTwp1tNeU1FSGUooRoB4U8h-EGOmgXui1hN0xy6_EOT8DAszMDNP5RFLX-X8v1QKHUtTZ86ppgkl2pnsGOacwktOg439UuGj-wTXHiIxtUk3ZFPak0uDusYeU/s640/1.jpg" width="429" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandgems.blogspot.com/">Swallowtail Fairy</a></span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Justin's Story:</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h2 align="center">
<a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/range.htm" style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: xx-large;">LOST IN THE GARDEN </a></h2>
<h2 align="center">
<a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/range.htm" style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; font-size: xx-large;">OF LIGHT</a></h2>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> While Mommy and Daddy were having a discussion in the kitchen, Claire turned into a fairy and chased her kitty into the back yard. There she heard music that seemed to drift to her from some far-away land. Suddenly a swallowtail appeared in front of her and fluttered out of her reach. It was so bright that Claire tried to grab it right out of the sky, but it flitted away. As Claire was chasing the swallowtail, she tripped over the kitty and plunged headlong to the ground.</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> After a moment, Claire slowly sat up and shook her head. The swallowtail was gone. She stumbled over to the fence and pushed as hard as she could. A board swung loose, and Claire squeezed through. She glimpsed the swallowtail in the meadow and dashed after it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Peter, Claire's brother, laughed when Claire fell down and hit her head, but he blinked, hardly believing his eyes, as Claire forced her way through the fence. When he realized that she had indeed escaped, he rushed toward the fence and barely squeezed through. Claire, far off in the distance, was galloping after the butterfly through the meadow.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Peter, knowing that he could easily catch up, jogged after her but tripped on a tree root, hitting his head on a fallen branch. Groaning, but laughing at himself a little, he rubbed his head and stood up. Claire was still chasing the butterfly, but now she was entering the forest. When Peter caught up to Claire, she was staring at a tiny man who was standing on a fallen tree, holding the stem of a tiger lily. Music seemed to emanate from the flowers and trees and the nearby stream.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaNISmHSPPM4UIRnmZtMjo0kcNRSYuhmATyEi-4jBEsLPxK88dEcDL4GH6QkGLCS-Y6G5p4bXaBgthpY2LKPAqu1KR7CkpiiPCoJ3NHzLvU4lqUNEsCyJNyYTtCDeKxz18_uYL3g3Dug/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinaNISmHSPPM4UIRnmZtMjo0kcNRSYuhmATyEi-4jBEsLPxK88dEcDL4GH6QkGLCS-Y6G5p4bXaBgthpY2LKPAqu1KR7CkpiiPCoJ3NHzLvU4lqUNEsCyJNyYTtCDeKxz18_uYL3g3Dug/s640/3.jpg" width="420" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/10pent.htm">Mr. Mellifluous</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h2>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> “Who, who, are you?” Peter stuttered.</span></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> “I am Mr. Mellifluous,” the small man shouted.</span></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> "And you, you must be an owl.”</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> </span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> “No, I'm Peter, and this is my sister Claire,” Peter responded, shaking his head.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Are you shaking your head because you are not really Peter and this is not really your sister, or because you are not sure that I am Mr. Mellifluous?”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “I don't know,” Peter frowned.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Obviously, you don't know much,” Mr. Mellifluous scolded, “and that's probably why you are trespassing on my land.”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Nobody told us this was your property,” Peter objected.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Nobody obviously doesn't know anything either,” Mr. Mellifluous replied. “Nevertheless, you are here, and now you must go on a musical journey.”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “A musical journey. Why, I've never heard of such a thing. I'm sorry, but we have to go home now,” Peter insisted.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> “As I was saying....You must go far and wide, on many paths, and through many rooms, to hear the music of the Earth, before you can return to your home. You will hear and see many things that you won't believe, and some that you won't want to believe, but you must keep going. Everywhere you go in this garden of light, you will hear music, which at times might help you remember your home. You must each go your own way now....”</span></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Peter turned to Claire in disbelief, and when he turned back, Mr. Mellifluous was gone. Then he turned back to Claire, and she too had vanished. Peter turned around and around, feeling suddenly lost. Then he saw a path through the trees.</span></span></center>
</h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXYtcNqdNiGHS4WcLBqat1Ii1XG3WuYLX-cct7Y2pfUg4yP5eq5Rg_cjT4H2i6UI6sAqCbl2g0amFwrqxoxiUcea4oEYryQk7kSngcF4iumYaKf49LjHh3bGHKlHZUzyo_MiT6Q9AX54/s1600/4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsXYtcNqdNiGHS4WcLBqat1Ii1XG3WuYLX-cct7Y2pfUg4yP5eq5Rg_cjT4H2i6UI6sAqCbl2g0amFwrqxoxiUcea4oEYryQk7kSngcF4iumYaKf49LjHh3bGHKlHZUzyo_MiT6Q9AX54/s640/4.jpg" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/">The Fairy with Blue Wings</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> The swallowtail fairies danced through the air and Claire chased after them. Suddenly Mr. Mellifluous appeared again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> “You must beware!” he exclaimed. “Fairies are very bad. If you follow them, you will be lost!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Claire did not listen to the grumpy little man. She galloped after the fairies through the meadow. A tall fairy with blue wings suddenly appeared in front of her. He took out a wand and waved it over Claire's head, and she lifted off of the ground!</span></div>
<div>
<h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IGQgJVYfrtIL0b54klU5fssxrJT6pCpl656zNMJcJQeC3Euy_z3o9JQXpHwToC0UyvOh7oNOgir3vPfEzfSUcBem7i04wIX1r-LCrbdpc2ha5zU9JDy5L4xKlSGeMr9whb9RTS4G-wg/s1600/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4IGQgJVYfrtIL0b54klU5fssxrJT6pCpl656zNMJcJQeC3Euy_z3o9JQXpHwToC0UyvOh7oNOgir3vPfEzfSUcBem7i04wIX1r-LCrbdpc2ha5zU9JDy5L4xKlSGeMr9whb9RTS4G-wg/s640/5.jpg" width="476" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/daimon.htm">Tiger Fairy</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<center>
</center>
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-weight: normal;"> Claire turned into a tiger fairy and roared. The other fairies screeched and lashed at her with their claws. The fearful little man was not at all happy about the ruckus. He put his hand over his mouth and shook his head. Claire and the other fairies rushed away with the wind.</span></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLpcNlz1EAt_h4riAbKa0ky3zs7ruZ07MNK4A6_zoEHWzmee7AW396L2eqdbl9jlIyfeWN9AuxFMczMj3pjas_Nhv__KcaP6Je1ckI5E9SXRAnX6yJaEgWwvb2eiEZE_Bp6Rr_9OzpRI/s1600/5a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwLpcNlz1EAt_h4riAbKa0ky3zs7ruZ07MNK4A6_zoEHWzmee7AW396L2eqdbl9jlIyfeWN9AuxFMczMj3pjas_Nhv__KcaP6Je1ckI5E9SXRAnX6yJaEgWwvb2eiEZE_Bp6Rr_9OzpRI/s640/5a.jpg" width="512" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/lemnis.htm">The Dark Man</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> After screeching and roaring through the air for many minutes, Claire spied movement far below, and she spiraled down to the ground as the other fairies flew along with the wind. She found people milling around aimlessly. Each one seemed blanketed by darkness.</span></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Claire flew up to a man and asked him, "Why does everyone here seem so sad?"</span></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> "We are far from our home."</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> "I'm so sorry," Claire said. "Can I help you?"</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> "We don't remember our home," he muttered.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> "Maybe if we search together, we can find it! Follow me! I know it won't take long!"</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> "I don't have wings like you do," he groaned</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> Suddenly Claire felt very sad. She patted the man on the arm.</span></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> "I will search for your home," she shouted as she was rising high into the air.</span></center>
</h2>
<h2>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViFL_TWMDjO8n3QLqS7x4ELoebHrlZNw4FjC1ShCSE9Lx9tBNVoe6PKHE_ixkyQZglVwDxsoqyvT3qW87NaBtyzDneKc6-j2omC_ruAt6epYRuOlTu1XH_NzkJZAj-NbPbMW6p_IOYeY/s1600/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjViFL_TWMDjO8n3QLqS7x4ELoebHrlZNw4FjC1ShCSE9Lx9tBNVoe6PKHE_ixkyQZglVwDxsoqyvT3qW87NaBtyzDneKc6-j2omC_ruAt6epYRuOlTu1XH_NzkJZAj-NbPbMW6p_IOYeY/s640/6.jpg" width="432" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/lemnis.htm">The Sphinx among the Stars</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> Claire was no longer a tiger fairy and suddenly couldn't remember how to get home. She flew around frantically, hoping to find the other fairies, and she noticed a man, all by himself, sitting on the ground. He had the hind legs of a lion, the tail of a bull and the wings of a bird. He was sitting with his eyes closed.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Can you help me find my way home?” Claire inquired.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “No,” he replied. “I don't think so.”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Is something the matter?” Claire inquired.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “No,” he replied. “I was just thinking of a star.”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Oh, how wonderful! Can I think of a star with you?” Claire asked.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Of course, but in a little while I'm going to fly high into the sky. I was hoping to bring a star back with me.”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “I'll go with you,” Claire nodded.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “You can if you like,” he replied. "But I can't help you if you fall!" He leaped into the air and flew high and even higher. Claire could hardly even keep up. Finally he hovered near a star and reached for it, unable to touch it. Claire watched for a moment, then became dizzy. She sailed back toward earth.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Goodbye!” she shouted.</span></center>
</h2>
<h2>
<center>
</center>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6R4KVnlM3KlYbQwbQml5303YHrIqgRlUtr_Ds_eYz_5Z68LB5oPZp868tFQeNGtPEdLqnsa8Ow7NmVmIY0C_jHPXqCJUhTJ4lHrOxAiJOxdsrV91DroT686Q-MYHyP3f4h-TDBqe78pw/s1600/7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6R4KVnlM3KlYbQwbQml5303YHrIqgRlUtr_Ds_eYz_5Z68LB5oPZp868tFQeNGtPEdLqnsa8Ow7NmVmIY0C_jHPXqCJUhTJ4lHrOxAiJOxdsrV91DroT686Q-MYHyP3f4h-TDBqe78pw/s640/7.jpg" width="502" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">Toad in the Flowers</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large;"> After she returned to earth, Claire searched for the fairies and discovered a toad squatting in the flowers. Whenever it croaked, a golden cross floated out of its mouth.</span></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Can you help me?” Claire implored. “I seem to be lost!”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “You are where you are,” it croaked, and another golden cross floated out of its mouth.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “But what am I to do?”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “You are a being, not a doing!” the toad croaked. “I can't help you if you don't know that!”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “But I need to be home!” Claire exclaimed.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “Home? Of course you're home. Where else would you be?”</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “You are no help at all,” Claire wailed.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> “You can kiss me if that will help,” the toad croaked.</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-large; font-weight: normal;"> Claire frowned and stepped back. She flitted away, glimpsing a flock of butterflies far off in the distance.</span></center>
</h2>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/h3.htm">Click here to continue the story.</a></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-87223342496146455822014-03-27T16:07:00.001-07:002015-04-03T10:20:57.988-07:00POST THIRTEEN: THE NEED TO ESCAPE<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXkIt0wtsFOZxpEGm7dDw_EFuvk6J02S6uXyFJ6vrDOyVwuFxdN_dkAqX-QloYSnSkCTbYpiCYCt0R_ws2hEe9mKTepqG8YC4jFgtucJL__Xc-92AxAfyfD15ap_GkSr59IU-Os0qM6E/s1600/streng.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuXkIt0wtsFOZxpEGm7dDw_EFuvk6J02S6uXyFJ6vrDOyVwuFxdN_dkAqX-QloYSnSkCTbYpiCYCt0R_ws2hEe9mKTepqG8YC4jFgtucJL__Xc-92AxAfyfD15ap_GkSr59IU-Os0qM6E/s1600/streng.jpg" height="640" width="351" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">Magical Paths</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">THE PEOPLE WITH THE MOST POWER</a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> A week later Cashing received a call.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "My cancer has unexpectedly gone into remission," the landlord said, "which could just possibly be more than mere coincidence, Mr. Cashing. Meet me at my office at ten."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Only if you don’t beat the crap out of me this time," Cashing replied as the line went dead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing decided to be fashionably late. When he was ushered into the office at fifteen minutes after ten, the landlord motioned for him to sit down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What do you want from me?" the landlord asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Personally, I’d like you to treat all things with reverence," Cashing replied. "But for now I’d just like you to stop developing in the foothills, and I’d like you to decrease the rent at the 20th Century Apartments by thirty percent."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You’re lucky that we’re friends, Mr. Cashing," the landlord smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’m glad you’re in a better mood," Cashing replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I want to meet your friend," the landlord stated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’ll see if I can arrange that, sir," Cashing sneered. "But you see, my friend and his family have been evicted from their apartment. I can’t guarantee that he’ll want to meet with you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Tell him that is no longer a problem. In fact, he and his family can stay there rent free until the crack of doom if he is indeed responsible for the good news, but I will need to meet with him before I decide."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "There are a couple of other matters that he would like you to address," Cashing said, taking a big chance. "He would like you to make sure that a few people are taken care of, one an old lady who ended up in the hospital, and the other an artist who was arrested for robbery," Cashing was really starting to sweat now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yes, yes, I’ll take care of it--if he is the miracle worker you say he is. Just leave my secretary with the details. Now, when can I meet the young gentleman?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Tomorrow at noon. But he wants to meet with you on the ridge overlooking Sycamore Creek," Cashing said. "I’ll show you how to get there and where to park. You do have a driver’s license, don’t you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, I'm pretty sure I know how to get there. I own it, after all!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter prepared for the healing by touching the four gems in the middle pillar, concentrating especially on the yellow diamond in the center. When he touched the top diamond, his personality was completely erased. He was simply a point of awareness in a vast ocean of consciousness, the observer, the observed, and the act of observation. But he was also filled with light and a sense of peace and total blessing. Peter mentally brought that light down to the middle gem, a yellow diamond, and he summoned a feeling of compassion, which resonated also from the gem until he was filled with compassion and light. He brought that light down to third gem on the middle pillar, a quartz, and suddenly in what seemed like the light of the moon, Peter felt more psychic than he ever imagined he could be, as though he could know everything about anyone he came in contact with. Finally he brought the light down to the bottom gemstone. He was ready.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> When Peter and Cashing arrived at the meeting place, the landlord was already waiting, parked in front of the unchained gate. As far as Cashing could tell, no one else was with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Mr. Cashing, what a pleasant surprise!" the landlord exclaimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Peter is only fifteen, sir. Someone had to drive, and I promised his parents that I would make sure he was safe at all times."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I see. Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m looking forward to learning more about you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter nodded his head and shook the landlord’s hand. Then Peter opened the gate and motioned for them to walk through.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> They walked along quietly for half a mile. Then Cashing said, "Why on earth do you have to develop this area? There are so many other places in town where you can build."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Mr. Cashing, why are so you worried about what I do? There are just too many people in this world right now and that is leading to other problems like mass extinctions and global warming and famine and war. We’ve got so many weapons of mass destruction that we can destroy the whole planet hundreds of times over. Really, I’m just small potatoes in the universal scheme of things. Why do you even bother with me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Maybe because you are so good at adding to the world's misery. Look, you must know by now that Native Americans used to live here. Genocide took place here not very long ago, and now apparently ecocide is soon going to follow. We have got to stop the destruction of the remaining ecosystems, or we might not survive as a species either," Cashing replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Look, somebody else will develop this land if I don't. That’s the beauty of our system of private property. Don't you know that by now? You might keep one owner from doing what he wants with his land, but chances are, you won’t stop the next. What’s the use, Cashing? You didn’t really bring me out here for a debate, did you?" the landlord asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "No, we didn’t," Peter said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> They continued walking quietly until they reached the ridge. They followed Peter down the trail to the pounding stone next to the creek. Then they crossed the creek and crawled up the side of the hill to the semicircle of stone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "We are here so that we can change our karma," Peter said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Both the landlord and Cashing gave Peter a funny look. "What do you mean?" the landlord asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “There is a simple magic that enables people to heal each other with the mind. At first I thought that all I needed to do was drain the negative energy away from a person and then fill that person with light, but then I realized that I had to take the black energy into myself. That is the sacrifice that I must make before I can heal you. That is the sacrifice that the great healers have made before they have healed the masses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Most are not born with the knowledge. Many, like my friend here,” Peter said, pointing at Cashing, “have been attacked over and over for their goodness until they know the magic of forgiveness. They learn to become the black cross of sacrifice before they give the terrible energy to a higher power for transmutation and redemption. And, believe me, a healer feels the pain of betrayal on top of everything else because the same people he is helping often would just as soon harm him out of ignorance and fear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But you see, our fate is all entangled because we are all connected, not just you and me but the streams and rocks and trees and clouds. They are part of what we are. That is the real magic: We are so connected at the level of the mind that if I change our karma through forgiveness, the karma of the world changes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Just like you, though, I am afraid. I’m afraid of the pain, afraid that I’ll fail, afraid that I won’t be able to forgive because I won’t see your spiritual essence. I have failed so often to see that in the people around me. I must see through to the essential harmony and magnificence within you and me and Justin and everyone else on this planet. Please forgive me if I cannot do that.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The landlord looked surprised. “I forgive you,” he stated flatly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Try not to think of anything. Just clear your mind. In a few minutes you’re going to feel me touch your head. Just relax and keep your eyes closed. I'm going to cleanse you spiritually, mentally, emotionally. I’m going to heal you completely."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The landlord closed his eyes and started breathing deeply. Suddenly Peter touched his head. The landlord shuddered but did not open his eyes. To Cashing, the landlord appeared to be in deep concentration.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Tell me what you see," Peter commanded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I don't see anything."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Clear your mind completely. Go back to your first memory. Then remember when you were here before. Remember when you were here before. Clear your mind," Peter said soothingly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Just when Justin wanted to give up, the landlord started groaning. Justin didn't know what the landlord was seeing, but Justin sensed that the landlord had slipped into an altered state, a state that the landlord would normally consider an illusion. Justin tried to tune his mind to the landlord's reality, but Justin couldn't perceive anything. Suddenly, the landlord opened his eyes and murmured, "I was on this ridge, and I heard gunfire. A lot of people were running around, and soldiers were shooting at them. Oh, my God, they were shooting women and children. I think I was with the soldiers, but not one of them. I think I saw you. You were about to shoot someone with an arrow. Oh, God, I think I shot you in the back."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Do you know who you were?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I was a rancher. I joined the soldiers because I was tired of the Indians stealing my cattle. I didn’t know it was going to be that bad. I swear I didn’t!" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I want you to know that I was there and that now in this moment I take your pain, and I forgive you. Together we are cleansed with light. Know yourself totally cleansed. I forgive you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The landlord turned around and clung to Peter. "Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry! I didn’t know."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "It’s all right," Peter murmured. "Everything is all right. We are cleansed."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I feel like a new person. I don't know what you did, but I do feel like a new person," the landlord wept.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB00A9py1phYmAmfxe0NpTmBVw9mxYHPCM_bcNNO-izG893OmkNjcarvdouxYUtsrVrZxC6Hhgz09yH2sVwL0L8VSQwXDnYX8i0C-kXaDGoS77EDv1BQu61-7NzloIYuJWnqTuBYDslkA/s1600/a13a.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB00A9py1phYmAmfxe0NpTmBVw9mxYHPCM_bcNNO-izG893OmkNjcarvdouxYUtsrVrZxC6Hhgz09yH2sVwL0L8VSQwXDnYX8i0C-kXaDGoS77EDv1BQu61-7NzloIYuJWnqTuBYDslkA/s1600/a13a.JPG" height="298" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.78gates.blogspot.com/">Pestle next to Mortar</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter slipped into the apartment unnoticed as his mom and dad were chatting at the kitchen table with their backs to the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I’m tellin’ you, Evelyn, I could do some real good with that thing. Cashing is just not smart enough to know how to use it.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “And just what would you do with it exactly?” Peter’s mother asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Suddenly they noticed Peter near the door. “Oh, hey, Peter, how long you been there?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I just got home. What’re you talkin’ about?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I’m gonna be honest with you, son,” his father stated. “We went over to Cashing’s place when you two was gone and checked it out. We seen that thing on his altar.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “What? How could you?” Peter groaned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Now, we only did it to protect you,” his mother asserted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “How could you? How could you!” Peter yelled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Are you two worshipping that thing? He’s not some kind of pagan, is he? We don’t want you hanging out with some kind of Satan worshipper! Peter, you have got to tell us the truth! We will not, I repeat, we will not let you play with the devil’s tools.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Mom! Please! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Tell me then, Peter! What is it?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “It’s something God made to help us understand all paths to Him!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “It’s nothing I’ve ever seen in church before,” his mother stated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “It’s the Tree of Life, Mom. You’ve heard of that, right?” Peter responded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Yes, of course I have. But no church that I know worships the Tree of Life. How did he get his hands on it? What church does he belong to?” she demanded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “That’s not the point, is it? The Tree of Life shows all paths to God,” Peter responded. “Surely God is bigger than every church and every religion put together."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Peter, how can you say that? You know our church is the one way, don’t you, Peter? We have let that man poison your mind. I do not want you talking to that man ever again.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But Mom!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Listen to your mother, Peter. She’s got a good point. We don’t really know what that thing is or how it might warp your mind. Cashing has no right to force his religion down your throat....”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But he’s not!” Peter interjected.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But you’re too young to know what he’s really doing, Peter. We know what’s best for you, not him! I am your father, and I’m telling you I know what’s best for you. If you want to be Cashing’s friend, you’ve got to sneak that thing out of his apartment and bring it over here so I can have a better look at it. I need to know what it is and what exactly it can do!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But Bill, we never decided that!” Peter’s mother groaned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Now, Evelyn, I am the man of the house, and I make the decisions, and I mean what I say. Peter, if you want to remain Cashing’s friend, you’ve got to bring that thing over here so we can have a better look at it. I ain’t sayin’ that it’s all bad. I just feel that it’s my duty as your father to know what’s going on, so bring it over here as soon as you can or you ain’t talking to that man again. And that’s final.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Bill?” Peter’s mother asked, a little perplexed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “You just want it for yourself,” Peter cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Now, how could you say such a thing? You need to learn to obey me, boy. I am your father!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Now, Peter, I think what your father means is that we just want to show it to our minister so that we know it’s not a bad thing. We just want to make sure that you are all right. I think your father is just asking you to borrow it for a little while. Can you do that for us?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “No, I won’t. I won’t do it!” Peter shouted. Peter stormed to his bedroom and threw open the door. His brother, in his mother’s wig and underwear, was sprawled out on the bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to knock!” his brother yelled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter slammed the bedroom door shut and grimaced at his parents. Then he grabbed his back pack and dashed out into the courtyard. Peter rushed over to Justin’s apartment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You really did a number on the landlord," Cashing said after he invited Peter in. "He’s decreased the rent. He’s helped out just about everyone around here in one way or another. He’s even donating his Sycamore Creek property to a conservancy, from what I understand. You know, I've developed a theory about you. If reincarnation is a real occurance, then it's possible that you are a highly developed soul who is able to do things that you learned in other incarnations, even though you are still so young. But by God, we took a huge chance! You never did explain how you knew he would remember."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "My spirit guide told me," Peter stated flatly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing laughed, "What else has your spirit guide told you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter suddenly grew serious and explained what had happened. “And to top everything off, when I opened my bedroom door, I found my brother wearing my mother’s wig and dressed in women’s underwear.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin pondered for a moment. “Sounds to me like each person in your family touched one of the jewels. I’m only guessing, but I think your brother touched the emerald, which is the sephira of Venus. Touching a sphere on the Tree can make a person suddenly experience suppressed desires, and the lack of balance caused by the influx of energy can manifest in ways that people consider socially unacceptable. I think it was Martin Luther who said if you’re going to sin, sin boldly. But that unbalanced energy can lead to far worse things. Pride, bigotry, cruelty, dishonesty, uncontrollable lust--these are vices that can hurt people very, very badly. I hope your parents weren’t affected in worse ways than your brother. I’m really beginning to think that maybe I need to get the hell out of Dodge, ASAP!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But what about me?" Peter asked. “My parents are demanding that I steal from you. I’m not going to do that. I need to get out of here too.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Think about what you’re saying. I can’t take you with me. I’d be arrested for kidnapping and God knows what else. I’d be thrown in jail for the rest of my life.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But what am I supposed to do?” Peter groaned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Just then, the landlord stepped through the door. “I have to thank you again for what you have done for me, both of you,” he beamed. “I have a proposition for you that I’m sure you will both consider extremely beneficial.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter and Justin gave each other a confused look.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Sources have informed me that you are in possession of a valuable artifact. I don’t know how you obtained it, and I don’t care, but I am willing to pay you more than what it’s worth if you show me how to use it.... That, I’m sure you know, is quite a bit of money.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Sources? You mean my brother?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I am not at liberty to say,” the landlord replied. "I would just like you to know that I have read a great deal about the Tree of Life, and I understand its significance, far more than most people. I assure you that I would take very good care of it, that is if you would like to sell it to me. Let me start with an offer. Let's say five million dollars."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But it’s really not for sale,” Justin hesitated. Peter gave him a strange look.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Oh, come now, everything has a price. Look at it this way. I have the means to use the Tree of Life effectively, far more effectively than you can in your current circumstances. I can do more good in one day than you can in a lifetime, more good than you can even imagine, and you can be right there to assist me. I can make you both princes, so to speak, princes of peace. All you have to do is accept my gratitude.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But it’s more complicated than that. There are many dangers associated with the Tree that you can’t even begin to imagine.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Oh, come now, Cashing. I’m a big boy. I deal with far greater problems before you even get up in the morning.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But when it comes to the Tree of Life, the people with the most power have the most risk--and the most responsibility. Someone like you can end up doing terrible damage even though you are trying to do good. Very few people are capable of being stewards of the Tree.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “That’s why I’m asking you to help me. You can be the steward of the Tree, and I can be your pupil,” the landlord replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin knew that he needed to be extremely tactful. “Look, I know you have the best of intentions, and I applaud you. You and I both know that you are a king when it comes to worldly matters, and I am but a lowly worm, but this is something completely different. We’re talking about spiritual matters here, and very few people in this society even have a clue about what that means. I stand in complete awe and utter humility before the Tree. I don’t pretend to presume how to handle all of its powers, and I’ve been learning how to handle them for decades. I’ve become unbalanced in just about every way imaginable, and I’m telling you that you are risking destruction. You could end up like me, or worse, far worse, especially if you have any worldly desires at all.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “You’re right about one thing, Cashing,” the landlord replied. “I am something of a king, in this Valley, at least, and I know how to get what I want, sometimes in ways that you might not approve of.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin winced, “Is that a threat?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The landlord chuckled, “No, no, please don’t misinterpret my words. I truly prefer to work with you, not against you. I’ve seen what kind of power you and the boy have. I wouldn’t presume to know how to handle the forces, but I want you to realize that I am truly serious. Truly, I don’t wish to pressure you, and I’ve already taken up too much of your time. Please, please, at least consider my offer, and believe me when I say that I only have the best of intentions. I mean it,” the landlord smiled reassuringly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Absolutely, I have no doubt. Please let us think about it for just a little while, and we'll get right back to you,” Justin replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I expected nothing less. Please, take your time. I look forward to hearing from you,” the landlord stated cordially.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “You’ll be hearing from us soon,” Justin smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> After the landlord drove away, Justin said, “We have got to get the hell out of this place, and I mean now!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “But what about kidnapping and going to jail and all of that?” Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin grimaced. “This could get a lot worse, if we stay, that is. The landlord could kidnap you and force me to give him the Tree. Go home, put some food and clothing in your backpack and get on your bike and ride out toward the end of Ashlan Ave. I’ll pick you up on the way. I know a place in the mountains where we can stay until this all blows over. You need to write a short note to your parents and tell them that you’re leaving but that you will be back in a few days. We’ve got to disappear for a little while! We’ve got to let everybody cool off and get some perspective. The landlord didn’t even need to touch the gems to feel the unbalancing influences of those forces. I'm not as psychic as you, but I can sense that we're in some deep shit, some really serious danger. Hurry, please, and don't let them see you leaving!”</span><embed autostart="true" height="15" playcount="true" src="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/mp3/2hrmny.mp3" type="audio/mpeg" width="145"></embed>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-63758701579928386032014-03-01T17:04:00.000-08:002014-03-01T17:04:42.168-08:00POST TWELVE: PARTNERS IN CRIME<div style="text-align: center;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzFUwNmUbwrK_SoAo3vGhy3ZmokGzCI5Zt5hSEe57ouXCoTkqOUDtyjvJCJxiZpoJnyXP1PNlvq8u0t05565-8a3vTEanN_QD0F6JZdxYIkWDJygEbBLu7CtXl1u8An80GAO6XiGx-og/s1600/yard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilzFUwNmUbwrK_SoAo3vGhy3ZmokGzCI5Zt5hSEe57ouXCoTkqOUDtyjvJCJxiZpoJnyXP1PNlvq8u0t05565-8a3vTEanN_QD0F6JZdxYIkWDJygEbBLu7CtXl1u8An80GAO6XiGx-og/s1600/yard.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.greatfairyprincess.blogspot.com/">Yard Sale at Apartment Complex</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">POST TWELVE: THE SECRET IS OUT</a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter’s father was gazing from the window when Justin and Peter left. “I don’t know what those two are really up to, but I don’t think they’re just gatherin’ signatures,” he stated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I’m tellin’ you, I think the old man’s gay or something,” Chuck sneered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Oh, dear, why would you say such a thing!” Peter’s mother exclaimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Why else would an old man hang out with someone like Peter?” Chuck replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter’s father continued, “He’s got a good point. If there’s ‘funny bidness’ going on, we need to stop it now. I have this funny feeling we’ve waited too long already.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “What do you suggest?” the mother asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Chuck answered, “We could break in to the old guy’s apartment and see if he has anything perverted in there.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “What are you saying? I didn’t raise my son to be a common criminal!”</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2eVHLRn6HEpCnFYaOJC_USxsTvp9ISZGP4J_ahyphenhyphenkIAgJeNWmMWHEtjAK_ag2px9nVa-2BrmDFxoY339tId_4cG4Hp36754CR7JpqzhXGnpp-ov-yJoawIEeC5CFghVVnx6nktd5kajE/s1600/7sword.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf2eVHLRn6HEpCnFYaOJC_USxsTvp9ISZGP4J_ahyphenhyphenkIAgJeNWmMWHEtjAK_ag2px9nVa-2BrmDFxoY339tId_4cG4Hp36754CR7JpqzhXGnpp-ov-yJoawIEeC5CFghVVnx6nktd5kajE/s1600/7sword.jpg" height="320" width="184" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/7sword.htm">Take this path.</a> <br /><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">Take a different path.</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Now hold on, Evelyn. Sometimes you have to bend the rules a little to protect the family. We could go over there and pick the lock. Then we could search the place while they’re gone. We ain’t gonna take nothing.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> “These locks around here are easy to pick!” Chuck exclaimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “How would you know?” his mother inquired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “My friend showed me. We was just messin’ ‘round,” Chuck responded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “What on earth!” his mother cried.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Now, now, Evelyn, the boy’s got to learn the how to survive on the street, ya’ know. You can’t be weak in this world. Playin’ around a little never hurt no one, right, son?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I can’t believe that you’re condoning this behavior!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “You know that no one in this family would steal nothing unless we absolutely had to. The boy’s just suggesting that we take a look around. I think he’s got a good point.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> She looked them both over carefully. “Oh, all right, but if you take anything, I’ll turn you in myself.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “All right, all right, that’s the spirit,” both of the men were nodding and smiling. “Let’s do it!”</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMQV4ZJQtFAVVe2rzKgBI-THFlmChXFd7N1gFwK7T30At9Vr8m9ED6c-F7P9giwmUdm5PPyFB-0_6KJ2uBGll6IpnaWG5WPAXDwOC-wyJGZp_-1GYANJbqkOierhXcz25R0oY1MRg5qo/s1600/devil.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMQV4ZJQtFAVVe2rzKgBI-THFlmChXFd7N1gFwK7T30At9Vr8m9ED6c-F7P9giwmUdm5PPyFB-0_6KJ2uBGll6IpnaWG5WPAXDwOC-wyJGZp_-1GYANJbqkOierhXcz25R0oY1MRg5qo/s1600/devil.jpg" height="320" width="182" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path26.htm">Take this path. </a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandgems.blogspot.com/">Take a different path.</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> While Chuck was picking the lock, his parents positioned themselves strategically to warn him if anyone was coming or looking out the window; the curtains in the apartment complex were invariably closed. After a minute or so of cursing under his breath and fiddling with the lock, Chuck quietly opened the door. The other two quickly slipped in after him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Justin’s apartment was dingy. “Turn on the light,” Chuck hissed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Just don’t forget to turn it back off when we leave, and if you pick something up, put it back exactly where you found it,” his mother whispered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Chuck and his father looked at each other. “Don’t worry. We ain’t gonna do nothing stupid.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> After a few minutes of searching the front room and kitchen, they all looked at each other as if the same idea had occurred to each of them at the same time. “We should be searching the bedroom,” Chuck stated. All three of them quietly filed into the bedroom, and each one stopped when they saw the altar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “What on earth is that?” the mother inquired.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I don’t know, but don’t them jewels look real?” Chuck mused.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitg1bAlYj0F21b6RbfuZgOqtlPwkO35rgVzJz63-Uh9YwBzjg9xjqy_vy3bXcJjrSpgnmOPi3X6ZNBS4slvsDWkp9duVvxhR83wVSPazDh6_Zan-6hF5PTw7wE9Wi_hXXp_M65STEsq04/s1600/emper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitg1bAlYj0F21b6RbfuZgOqtlPwkO35rgVzJz63-Uh9YwBzjg9xjqy_vy3bXcJjrSpgnmOPi3X6ZNBS4slvsDWkp9duVvxhR83wVSPazDh6_Zan-6hF5PTw7wE9Wi_hXXp_M65STEsq04/s1600/emper.jpg" height="320" width="186" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path15.htm">Take this path.</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/intro.htm">Take a different path.</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">“Now step back, both of you, and let me look at it.” The father leaned down to examine the Tree of Life and almost involuntarily his hand shot out toward the sapphire. As he fondled it, he felt a warmth flowing into his hand. Suddenly in his mind’s eye he envisioned a king seated on a throne. He stepped back and shook his head. “There’s something maybe a little weird about this thing!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Let me look at it,” Chuck demanded, leaning forward to grab the emerald. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_nSYZFFBkJY77HBYdDLJBmQriotXkkDR1_I3vzegkUFwHt7aGGofPofcDrYGI7LY4VraT41cE_Jy7GW9oHkLFsWKtdgX30OViye_u0c64swBPGe53rd1dcnCTlq9k5oFdUD8ptIdrfg/s1600/empres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_nSYZFFBkJY77HBYdDLJBmQriotXkkDR1_I3vzegkUFwHt7aGGofPofcDrYGI7LY4VraT41cE_Jy7GW9oHkLFsWKtdgX30OViye_u0c64swBPGe53rd1dcnCTlq9k5oFdUD8ptIdrfg/s1600/empres.jpg" height="320" width="185" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path14.htm">Take this path.</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/">Take a different path.</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Step back, both of you,” the father snarled. “I make the rules around here. Stay back until we figure out what this thing is!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Chuck, however, was rubbing the emerald with his fingers. Suddenly in his mind’s eye he envisioned a beautiful, naked woman in a forest. He closed his eyes and a figure, part man and part horse, flashed across the screen of his mind. He reached for the emerald again, but his father slapped his hand away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I said step back!”</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPYiQKqpGmrSQYhexwARgrl8jDuP4BgJqmqiyVEv2Z0afb94ZLf_SPA-Kp1uAx33GrXsrAuoeVJk9RWOCi4x0duCAgt1-iBke38nCKSdxSpn1nb8SADD3ouewALsBJ-KAD6D1g9LkV4A/s1600/death.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIPYiQKqpGmrSQYhexwARgrl8jDuP4BgJqmqiyVEv2Z0afb94ZLf_SPA-Kp1uAx33GrXsrAuoeVJk9RWOCi4x0duCAgt1-iBke38nCKSdxSpn1nb8SADD3ouewALsBJ-KAD6D1g9LkV4A/s1600/death.jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path24.htm">Take this path. </a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/cnight.htm">Take a different path.</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The mother quickly stepped forward. “Now, what’s the crime in touching it?” she asked as she reached for the yellow diamond in the center of the Tree. She held the jewel for several seconds and felt a great warmth flowing up her arm. She envisioned a mummy with a green face on a throne. He was surrounded by clear, pink light, and a brilliant sun was rising behind his head.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG0F43QKtCMrCvG6GCqo6Y1yqwm_twel9lvW6gOZNRY06Ky044HbAsJWMROUbia3e0hsbhtJ-vBt_7FCMeYUeJXaDTPT2euEMSV4UYh3sDxO47BROWE83kCloTeVcR6G9EXIZGPnrBgk/s1600/wking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinG0F43QKtCMrCvG6GCqo6Y1yqwm_twel9lvW6gOZNRY06Ky044HbAsJWMROUbia3e0hsbhtJ-vBt_7FCMeYUeJXaDTPT2euEMSV4UYh3sDxO47BROWE83kCloTeVcR6G9EXIZGPnrBgk/s1600/wking.jpg" height="320" width="177" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/wking.htm">Take this path.</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"><span id="goog_1382235591"></span>Take a different path.<span id="goog_1382235592"></span></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> “Now, Evelyn, how am I ever goin' to get the boy to obey me if you don’t listen to what I say? I said step back before we’re all contaminated!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> She reluctantly let go of the yellow diamond and stepped away from the altar. They all stood staring at the Tree, as though mesmerized, for a minute or so. “So this is their big secret,” she whispered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Suddenly the father felt an almost overwhelming desire to take the Tree back to the apartment. “I don’t know what it is, but I just get this feeling that we could live like kings if we had this thing,” the father muttered to himself as though oblivious to what his wife had just said.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJuAjRjRRwxPANe9zXtwb3E_fHeNq_0Kptpl1s-xDE1EnauT6GSiUBicg38Y4JUGJNWWVF-17eWXqUwjVxfALUClZBmkPIM7D6sSCpbjJNx2MeB23KfOGBaTgd185UWApGyJs1EnDc7c/s1600/4pent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtJuAjRjRRwxPANe9zXtwb3E_fHeNq_0Kptpl1s-xDE1EnauT6GSiUBicg38Y4JUGJNWWVF-17eWXqUwjVxfALUClZBmkPIM7D6sSCpbjJNx2MeB23KfOGBaTgd185UWApGyJs1EnDc7c/s1600/4pent.jpg" height="320" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/4pent.htm">Take this path.</a> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.78gates.blogspot.com/">Take a different path.</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I know I could have some fun with it,” Chuck murmured.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “No wonder Peter never talks about it,” the mother said. “You two resemble a couple of </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">criminals. We’ve seen enough. Now go see if the coast is clear so that we can get the ‘flake’ out of here!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">They all looked longingly at it for a moment and then quietly stepped out of Justin’s apartment after turning off the lights. “I could really live like a king,” Peter’s father muttered to himself as they headed back to their apartment. “I bet Cashing is just too stupid to know what to do with it!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> “Don’t you dare mention it! If you do I’ll tell Peter and his friend what you just did!”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> The two men grunted but didn’t mention it again.</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"></span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-42030869699519981822014-02-22T14:17:00.002-08:002014-03-01T15:48:24.101-08:00CHAPTER ELEVEN: PSYCHIC READINGS<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNhM3B8FTZD8cI5csFwluIsrnhu_XF1NO_F0f6XjJBEHHbtyV90OTyYWAZBpmgWBbN6PtpxSiXeUUVC1Ost-_2YCz84i5wp5GYMQNRZiFkpnguCF3lGmATVAod_cxauJ9fqLnWcCe2Gw/s1600/flat2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioNhM3B8FTZD8cI5csFwluIsrnhu_XF1NO_F0f6XjJBEHHbtyV90OTyYWAZBpmgWBbN6PtpxSiXeUUVC1Ost-_2YCz84i5wp5GYMQNRZiFkpnguCF3lGmATVAod_cxauJ9fqLnWcCe2Gw/s1600/flat2.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">Pounding Stone at Confluence:<br />Bottom of Reservoir in Drought Year</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandgems.blogspot.com/">ELEVEN: MEETING THE LANDLORD</a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’m pretty sure the landlord has a brain tumor," Peter told Cashing the following morning.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "When you meet with him, tell him that you know he has cancer and that I will try to help him."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "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."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You got it, man," Cashing said. "I’m ready for this guy, I think."</span><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMxwj6036sX3D2meIz_Jj-d4TQ-aqcN7cDIEIc71bdnBbLG7cAMj2jw7gxsVOgKpob30WX1swRZbz3XdcpNQdLAyokJ2p08pgk5_FaQKUhaWCrqNlOa3VZSjvw4eHuvFWGLzspE88GWg/s1600/newt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvMxwj6036sX3D2meIz_Jj-d4TQ-aqcN7cDIEIc71bdnBbLG7cAMj2jw7gxsVOgKpob30WX1swRZbz3XdcpNQdLAyokJ2p08pgk5_FaQKUhaWCrqNlOa3VZSjvw4eHuvFWGLzspE88GWg/s1600/newt.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.78gates.blogspot.com/">Newt and Pestle in Mortar</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> 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.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHP0RFwedX2cP4j4dftEl6pJsa120qTDz7vdZ3ekNSQIWwR5ZdjANJ5GKFrc4AOY7NRKSV367GmVN7bXa-_EeAwsuFHShyphenhyphenwEA4LO3hjD60i6OFN4Jg8wa5cyN9fS6B0JiLmuikmSpv2U/s1600/thanksgiving11+140.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixHP0RFwedX2cP4j4dftEl6pJsa120qTDz7vdZ3ekNSQIWwR5ZdjANJ5GKFrc4AOY7NRKSV367GmVN7bXa-_EeAwsuFHShyphenhyphenwEA4LO3hjD60i6OFN4Jg8wa5cyN9fS6B0JiLmuikmSpv2U/s1600/thanksgiving11+140.JPG" height="468" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/">Creek Near Native American Village Site</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> 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 </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">sometimes</span></span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> manifested in the worst circumstances.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMDa_OMskMzWy8Z1CfpqhKPhZrYpUfoLg18D4BDkryU5FgQKhrnFBo1N7LHI-6El0jaGta7KlRaFptcdEIUppM3g6YvyswC0Ck9bhGagOJKtbiMauucIdhTJ-dQXTr6CdGB-1-wDsEj0/s1600/thanksgiving11+134.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSMDa_OMskMzWy8Z1CfpqhKPhZrYpUfoLg18D4BDkryU5FgQKhrnFBo1N7LHI-6El0jaGta7KlRaFptcdEIUppM3g6YvyswC0Ck9bhGagOJKtbiMauucIdhTJ-dQXTr6CdGB-1-wDsEj0/s1600/thanksgiving11+134.JPG" height="305" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.greatfairyprincess.blogspot.com/">Ancient Trail to Native <br />American Village Site</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> 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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Do you know why you’re here?" the landlord asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Because you want to make a deal?" Cashing replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Because I want you to take a long look at me before I crush you," the landlord said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I don’t understand how a man who has cancer can talk like that to other people," Cashing stated.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The landlord looked surprised. "How did you know that?" he asked. "Nobody else knows. I’ve made sure of that."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I have a wise friend who knows many things," Cashing replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "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.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, okay. You’re not going to believe this. Just bear with me here a second," Cashing muttered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You have two minutes," the landlord replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "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."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> One of the bodyguards hit Cashing on the side of the head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "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."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The bodyguard raised his fist again, but paused.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You’re saying that this friend of yours somehow envisioned my brain tumor even though he has never met me?" the landlord laughed.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwpIxT_HoAwGqF1gN_w8RipwXkTamVHz6WF3F7UDlw8EmCH_v4flM7rdYM3Hst8vJI3SILqOZDi-lNuNjf7_7vMwVmsfeGOzPWjbJ04dRINJCJe8SW7jUuHmADwFV36VGKEM1U-cXeko/s1600/thanksgiving11+095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwpIxT_HoAwGqF1gN_w8RipwXkTamVHz6WF3F7UDlw8EmCH_v4flM7rdYM3Hst8vJI3SILqOZDi-lNuNjf7_7vMwVmsfeGOzPWjbJ04dRINJCJe8SW7jUuHmADwFV36VGKEM1U-cXeko/s1600/thanksgiving11+095.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">Pounding Stone with Pestles</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> "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?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> 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."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "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 oth</span><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">er or make </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtppnURup_fxpbfLl6jHMavw6yHetwPtQFpvHjipHDRRv4IQ4vrVHxm8fm3-fz5srvyUr51ymJkej5tj2lWHsHjWSwXMSpnPh9OgbC69RBHJUVi_Og6jVRVq5cDUarSy2SQiiLeEcO5w/s1600/thanksgiving11+059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYtppnURup_fxpbfLl6jHMavw6yHetwPtQFpvHjipHDRRv4IQ4vrVHxm8fm3-fz5srvyUr51ymJkej5tj2lWHsHjWSwXMSpnPh9OgbC69RBHJUVi_Og6jVRVq5cDUarSy2SQiiLeEcO5w/s1600/thanksgiving11+059.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandthrones.blogspot.com/">Pestles on Pounding Stone</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">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 </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">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. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> "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.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> The landlord looked Cashing over. "Very interesting, Mr. Cashing. You realize I’ll break your kneecaps if this doesn’t work," he stated flatly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, I realize that now," Cashing replied, gazing at the box of signatures that he had placed on the landlord’s desk.</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-10873380882581963512013-12-14T11:04:00.001-08:002014-02-22T13:35:17.797-08:00CHAPTER TEN: GEMS ON THE TREE<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazjC3fQpqpKkhqUuQ9SIOUdOkmocM7XPerNzp6HkLWBIvKtY4tdqIiIN3eKNM42C7q34PA2UpEgHbIrzJIXaB3z9dy64giwoU9x6EWtrKsdUPU6AyBM4Eh3rqWpc2_tnODhnE3_wFt7Y/s1600/bluff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjazjC3fQpqpKkhqUuQ9SIOUdOkmocM7XPerNzp6HkLWBIvKtY4tdqIiIN3eKNM42C7q34PA2UpEgHbIrzJIXaB3z9dy64giwoU9x6EWtrKsdUPU6AyBM4Eh3rqWpc2_tnODhnE3_wFt7Y/s640/bluff.jpg" height="640" width="460" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandgems.blogspot.com/">Goddess on the Bluff Overlooking</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandgems.blogspot.com/">the New Golf Course by the River</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandthrones.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE GEMS</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> After dinner Peter dashed over to Justin’s apartment, wanting to know more about the Tree of Life. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I have a blog that I publish under a nom de plume which I think you might find helpful. You can just <a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">click on this link</a>."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why don't you just tell me about it? Please," Peter implored. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Okay, here goes. Deities surround us, but Western cultures have all but lost the ability to know them, especially since the vast majority of people no longer have regular contact with nature. Because comparatively few people have had the opportunity to experience the conscious, subtle forces behind manifestation, and because science has no devices to detect them, the Gods are treated as the phantasms of primitive, superstitious minds. To a few, the archetypal figures of the Gods shed some light on the mind set of ancient cultures, but the Gods typically remain oddities for the modern, rational individual, who has never mused over their bones nor gawked at them like so many giraffes and elephants in the zoo. The spiritual significance of the Gods eludes the average person, who often only encounters them in brief retellings of myths.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Science has never adequately explained consciousness, let alone created a device that measures all aspects of the psyche. Science, on the other hand, has revealed that the five senses can only perceive a small fraction of the measurable frequencies of energy in the known universe. Mounting evidence also suggests that human beings have a ‘sixth sense’ that is sensitive to subtle currents of energy beyond our physical senses, resulting in phenomena that cannot be explained nor explained away: clairvoyance, telepathy, retro-cognition, precognition, and other types of extra sensory perception. These are experienced by the senses of the soul--our subtle bodies have a kind of ‘soul sense.' And there has always throughout history been faith in a spiritual dimension, a faith which develops after repeated experiences that cannot be measured but which have an immeasurable effect. All of this is not proof, of course, that deities exist; however, the most advanced cultures in the history of civilization have had their pantheons of Gods or Angels, the great Shining Ones who influence human evolution. Were those cultures simply primitive, or is modern, monotheistic humanity missing something?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsbn4uIgXe6gK604rvBw-HEHpfgVmlObFgr1xdu3avJ1wLj1MTkfM0BYBWk9ais6vY_SVs1IMliy5FYN-oSc4ggLoHhY0YLUwLVnrirdZ99j81_-kpj4azRl-8e0boXjCPvoAcfwCIds/s1600/lovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYsbn4uIgXe6gK604rvBw-HEHpfgVmlObFgr1xdu3avJ1wLj1MTkfM0BYBWk9ais6vY_SVs1IMliy5FYN-oSc4ggLoHhY0YLUwLVnrirdZ99j81_-kpj4azRl-8e0boXjCPvoAcfwCIds/s400/lovers.jpg" height="400" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">Paradise Regained</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Based on its needs in different times and places, the human mind has created the forms of deities as a way to connect with the invisible natural forces. Spiritual traditions have operated from time immemorial as if these natural forces are intelligent and willing to ensoul the symbolic forms, channeling their energy into the human mind. To those with the powers of sympathetic imagination, the Gods aid circumstances and stimulate evolution. If one is reverent enough, sensitive enough, and fervent enough, the Gods return, the form a symbolic fabrication of appropriate correspondences, the force real. If one successfully invokes a God, one can feel that humans are like amoebas in comparison; humans notice the Gods only because we are made of the same soul stuff, only much less developed. Fashioning symbolic human and animal figures simply makes the invisible forces more accessible to the human imagination.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “The mystic glyph of The Tree of Life factors out these forces, revealing the correspondences between the cosmos and the individual. Nobody knows the origin of the fantastic symbol system known as the Tree of Life, but legend has it that a Shining One gave it to humanity. Based on my experiences, I cannot imagine that any human being could have created it. On the surface, the basic structure appears simple. As many have pointed out, the Tree on one level is like a filing system that enables one to classify the various energies within the cosmos and the human being--the macrocosm and the microcosm. Because the human being contains the energies of the macrocosm, energetic correspondences exist at subtle levels.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbLwyh792P5UQjQhYdVdXGwWfgUbhbH0pD52Td7apKpQspgn99mUGMKN4qz6knMQ7BCWve_irmajgJwS52BuDHoUzpYNC0kZ66tPzylMFAgZ6jhyphenhyphenuvIPEPfyXjxIH6sr1-zZzUtOKzi7U/s1600/temp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbLwyh792P5UQjQhYdVdXGwWfgUbhbH0pD52Td7apKpQspgn99mUGMKN4qz6knMQ7BCWve_irmajgJwS52BuDHoUzpYNC0kZ66tPzylMFAgZ6jhyphenhyphenuvIPEPfyXjxIH6sr1-zZzUtOKzi7U/s400/temp.jpg" height="400" width="227" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">Path to Tiphareth</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “The Tree of Life is a map, not the terrain itself, and ultimately, every true experience of a path on the Tree is deeply personal. In order to follow the map, however, one needs to have at least a basic summary of the most important aspects of the Tree, which can be structured several ways. The conventional (and perhaps most helpful) way presents the sephiroth, or objective states of being, as spheres in three columns. The right column, known as the Pillar of Mercy, represents types of expansive force, and the left column, known as the Pillar of Severity, represents types of restricting energy. The central column, known as the Pillar of Mildness or Middle Pillar, balances the energies of the right and left columns. In the process of involution creative energy flows from spirit to matter in a zigzag from the first sphere in a lightning flash, known as the Way of the Lightning, from the heavens to the earth, from sphere one to ten in order down the Tree, each sphere, or ‘sephira,' emanating the next, until creation reaches its culmination in Malkuth, the Kingdom."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “So are these spheres represented by the jewels on the Tree of Life?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Yes, and that is where the magic comes in. Each jewel contains the energy of its respective sephiroth, the energy also represented by the symbolic forms of the Gods."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “The jewels hold great powers, then?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Great powers at all levels of the psyche. If you handle the forces well, you can be totally reborn into higher states of awareness. But the life-force flows in spate from its various states into the mind, and the individual must remain balanced or the forces lead inevitably to destruction."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Does the life-force when it is unbalanced become evil?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “It has the potential to become destructive or 'evil,' and therefore, when you deal with the Tree, you can encounter great dangers if you are not careful. The life-force stimulates whatever sphere you’re focusing on. I mentioned this before, but I should emphasize it again. Each sphere contains a virtue--its ideal, balanced state--and a vice--its unbalanced state. A person, after the influx of energy, usually has to re-establish balance within him or her self, which takes discipline and experience. If not, the energy leads to vice, not virtue. You need to take great care always when dealing with the forces of the Tree."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Don't you worry," Peter replied, fondling the amethyst, which made him feel incredibly psychic. Justin looked on with concerned amusement.</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-10022870976473156522013-12-04T16:15:00.000-08:002014-02-20T08:42:54.328-08:00CHAPTER NINE: THE TREE OF LIFE<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLiOmkrrJgIMoUcSz54E8xw1c2jUdnubrrqJwt_e_dJxCAxy_1RWQq9J0IOYVq_AFiaf3sf2xgeFg1YXFwkCh9DdJ2geTBA4sE1DUiBkzTEUM_a5IdVn7I9g2cHHt6bZGI5HM5rPwexQQ/s1600/cards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLiOmkrrJgIMoUcSz54E8xw1c2jUdnubrrqJwt_e_dJxCAxy_1RWQq9J0IOYVq_AFiaf3sf2xgeFg1YXFwkCh9DdJ2geTBA4sE1DUiBkzTEUM_a5IdVn7I9g2cHHt6bZGI5HM5rPwexQQ/s640/cards.jpg" height="640" width="412" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandthrones.blogspot.com/">The Tree of Life with Tarot</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER TEN: THE TREE AND THE STILL, SMALL VOICE</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Several days later, as Peter was getting on his bike in the courtyard, Cashing opened his door and called him over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You’re not going to tell me that we can’t do anything, are you?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "No, no, just hang on a minute. Don’t jump to conclusions. I’ve had an idea. Do you want to hear it?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter got off of his mountain bike and stepped into Cashing’s apartment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Before I tell you my idea, I’d like to show you something I’ve been working on, called <i>ROOMS THAT DREAM</i>. If you’d like to read it, <a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">you can just click on this link</a>--it's got music and illustrations too," Cashing pointed at his computer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter looked at him funny, and said, “Maybe later.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Okay, this is my idea. I’m not guaranteeing anything. It’s just a stab in the dark," Cashing mumbled, "and it's probably really just a stupid idea anyway."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Would you just tell me already?" Peter blurted out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay. We could go door to door collecting signatures from people against the subdivision. In the process, we could hand out fact sheets, and ask people to call or write their county supervisor. We could also list a few of our landlord’s major businesses on the fact sheet. That probably would be bad for business, his business, that is. We wouldn’t ask people to boycott those businesses, mind you, because that might get us in trouble. We just want to imply that people can stand up against this guy."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, now you’re talkin’. When can we get started?" Peter smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Wait just a minute. There are several things to consider before we get started. First of all, you haven’t received permission from your parents. We would be canvassing in the evening on weeknights. Secondly, if our landlord finds out, he will want retribution. In other words, he will probably evict me and your family. We have to do this without letting anyone know who we are or where we live. We would have to be extremely careful."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, first of all, my dad likes nature. He wouldn’t want to see that place developed anymore than I do. Secondly, my dad hates the landlord, and my parents are planning to move from here anyway. We’re probably only going to be here another two months or so, from what I understand. And third, maybe I can convince them that the experience will be good for me, get me out of the house, make me more outgoing, blah, blah, blah," Peter laughed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You can also mention that I canvassed for three years when I was younger and no one in my organization ever had any problems, and I was asking for money in addition to signatures and phone calls and letters. If someone turns ugly, you can just turn and walk away."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> That evening at dinner, Peter told his family about Cashing’s idea. Peter’s mother was dead set against it, but Peter’s father, who knew the area that was going to be developed, changed her mind. Peter’s father thought that Peter should at least be given a chance. As Peter had predicted, his dad thought the experience would help to build Peter's character. Peter had assured them that Cashing would always be canvassing on the other side of the street and would intercede if there were ever a problem. Besides, it would be a good way to get back at the landlord. That evening, after dinner, Peter overheard his father’s prediction that Peter wouldn’t last long on the job, not more than a night or two, anyway.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing and Peter both wondered out loud what they were doing, on more than one occasion, but a month later, they were still going door to door, collecting an average of seventy signatures and ten letters a night between them. By the end of the first month, they had almost 1,500 signatures and close to two hundred letters against the project. Since it was summer, they kept canvassing until about nine o’clock each evening. People, on the whole, were indifferent. A few were nice and gave them something to drink. A few would slam the door in their faces, usually without hearing what they had to say. Justin and Peter just kept knocking on doors and finding supporters wherever they could.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> After a month, though, Cashing started getting so tired that he began to suspect something was wrong. He took several days off, hoping that a little rest would solve the problem, but after four days, he didn’t feel any better. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter meditated on Cashing’s problem. He mentally scanned Cashing’s body and found a streak of black in his lungs. Peter remembered that Cashing had smoked at a much younger age. Perhaps now, with all of the stress, cells were becoming cancerous. Peter did not want to label the problem, however. He envisioned draining the blackness from Cashing’s lung into a chalice and draining the blackness through a hose under the chalice into the earth, where it was purified by magma. Then Peter mentally filled the tainted area of the lung with blue and yellow and bright white energy. He had no rational explanation why those colors might be the best energy from his primary chakra system--he just knew it was right.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> When Peter saw Cashing next, he told Cashing to go to the doctor and have his lungs x-rayed. Cashing took Peter’s advice, and the doctor found a tiny tumor in Cashing’s left lung. The doctor wanted to operate right away to remove the tumors. Peter spent as many hours as possible meditating to rid the spots from Cashing’s left lung, replacing the blackness with blue and yellow and white energy. Before the doctors were about to operate, they x-rayed his lungs again. This time they found no sign of tumors in his lung even though they checked and rechecked the tests. They sent Cashing home and told him to return in a week.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin knew that occasionally there were tears in the fabric of reality and odd things would slip in and out, sometimes terrifying, sometimes healing, sometimes downright crazy. He had little trouble believing therefore that another person could heal him with the mind alone, which he suspected Peter had done.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter had helped Justin to believe in the power of telepathy. Justin had experienced “hits” before, sometimes knowing with great certainty what a person was thinking or feeling, but even though he had opened his subtle senses, he did not trust his intuitions and did not know how to harness that power. Justin was more than a little afraid of the power of a thought combined with intense feeling, which sometimes unexpectedly inspired groups into sudden, focused action as a powerful thought form swept through the crowd, making individuals do, for better or worse, what they could not have imagined doing alone. It was the power of the mob, but it was also, as Justin was witnessing, the power that an individual had to heal or harm. Since Justin was a well-educated man, he had always doubted his intuitions, that small voice in his head. Maybe what he “heard” were like the indistinct sounds that seeped through the apartment walls that he could never really label good or bad. Justin was also afraid that he just didn’t have enough faith, in the power of the mind or in himself, for the subtle senses sometimes only translate the energy of emotion and thought. Sometimes he could not even believe in his own fingers. For Peter, though, Justin was willing to take a chance, if only because it made life seem more like an adventure.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> After he got back from the doctor's office, Cashing found Peter waiting for him. "I get this feeling that you’ve been meditating on my problem," Cashing said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yes," Peter replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing hugged Peter. "Thank you," Cashing said. "I know you helped me even though every one else I know would think that I'm crazy for saying so."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You need to purify yourself spiritually, mentally, emotionally and physically every day from now on. I can't keep you healthy. You've got to do it yourself," Peter explained.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I will. I will. I promise," Cashing replied. "Follow me. I have something to show you. I've been debating about the right time to show you, but I think the right time is now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> They ambled over to Justin’s apartment. After he opened the front door, Justin motioned Peter inside and opened the door to his bedroom. “This is what I have been wanting to show you,” Justin paused, his hand sweeping toward the wall. “The Tree of Life." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter could see a strange structure, about two and half feet tall, on an alter, with gems hanging from it. “You mean the Tree of Life from the Garden of Eden?” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “It's possible that this Tree of Life came from the Garden of Eden, but no one can prove it, of course." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Are the jewels real?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Yes. There are ten different jewels, including a diamond, a ruby, an emerald and a sapphire, each of great value."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “How much is it worth?" Peter demanded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “The Tree itself, as far as I know, is priceless," Justin responded. “It has another value, a magical value that far transcends its worth in gold."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter squinted at the Tree, “Those jewels aren't really real, are they? You're just messin’ with me, ain't ya?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Yes, they are real, and no I'm not messin' with you. Some of the most powerful forces in the world are contained within those jewels."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “What kinds of forces?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2OZscgjJdXgBqL2epa43jPiq-ccgFYdqkeVw-WqvnXsalLBCZGFy408dTpoyOSBzZee7zIETv2NJvhbcsWehja-YYmKe0wjov8NKor7zaP_n-jGZ75LI9ECuYXNFkwkxhDANr6tBAe5U/s1600/psyche.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2OZscgjJdXgBqL2epa43jPiq-ccgFYdqkeVw-WqvnXsalLBCZGFy408dTpoyOSBzZee7zIETv2NJvhbcsWehja-YYmKe0wjov8NKor7zaP_n-jGZ75LI9ECuYXNFkwkxhDANr6tBAe5U/s640/psyche.jpg" height="640" width="412" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">Tree of Life with Major Arcana of Tarot</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “The Tree of Life is a symbol of creation representing the different energies within the cosmos and the individual. It symbolically shows the universal energy field, which is mirrored by each human energy field, or aura. The Tree reveals the subtle correspondences between the individual soul and the powers of the cosmos, in other words.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter pondered Justin's words for a moment. “You mean that a person can use the Tree to gain cosmic powers? How is that possible?” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “That, my friend, is the mystery. Only a small group of people know how to charge the jewels with cosmic force. For some reason, my uncle left the Tree so that I would find it. I believe that my uncle was one of the people who knew, but he died before he could tell me.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “So," Peter drew out the vowel, “how did your uncle get a hold of it?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “He found it during the war, World War II, that is, hidden in a concentration camp, of all places. He showed it to me once when I was a young boy, but he didn’t tell me anything else about it. My uncle was an eccentric and seemed more than a little unbalanced sometimes. Everyone thought he was 'cranky’ because of the War, but I think now it was probably because of this,” Justin pointed at the Tree. “He wanted me to believe that he took it apart after he found it in the Nazi commandant’s quarters and that he wrapped it up and brought it home, and then put it back together in his garage and kept it hidden there for almost fifty years, but I now think it possible that he simply put it together and charged it with cosmic energies himself.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter still looked doubtful. “Why are you showing this to me now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I don't completely understand it on a spiritual level, probably because I have trouble trusting my own intuitions. I understand it mentally, but I don't fully understand it spiritually. I sometimes just feel at a loss when I connect spiritually with people or things. I can talk a good game, but when it gets down to the nitty gritty, I have trouble reconciling the logic of the mind with the logic of the spirit, which sometimes are oddly different. And maybe I'm a little afraid of the unpredictable nature of the spirit. You, if you'll allow me to be frank, are less damaged than I am and seem far more open and tuned in to the spiritual dimension. I am hoping that you will help me understand the Tree of Life on a higher level. I believe that everything happens for a reason. A wise man once said that you should treat all experience as a confrontation of God with your soul. I'm not sure I believe that entirely, but I do believe that the divine gives you signs now and then. You are having visions of archetypal symbols that can be found in the Tarot and on the Tree of Life, two symbol systems that go together in every conceivable way. I think for that reason alone I am meant to reveal this to you.” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter looked nonplussed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin continued, “It’s crucial that the right people take care of the Tree. Try to remember Nazi Germany, for a moment. The Nazis got their hands on knowledge of the Tree of Life and conquered most of Europe, killing millions of innocent people in the process. The Tree of Life is a sacred symbol system revealing different subtle states of being. The swastika, for instance, which is a symbol of the Source of life, is associated with the top sphere of the Tree. The Nazis perverted that symbol, turning it on its side, literally and figuratively. Instead of a symbol of life, it became a symbol of death and evil. And, instead of a time of great spiritual awakening, the 20th Century became a nightmare. I’m afraid that the people now in power are more than a little like the Nazis, and if they got their hands on it, they would use the Tree to establish ‘full-spectrum dominance’ over the world, which is pretty much what they’re currently trying to do. You and I are ‘off the radar,’ so to speak, and we need to keep it that way. Whoever takes care of the Tree must remain humble, in more ways than one."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “So you think your uncle chose you to take care of it?” Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “My guess is that he could see my rebellious artistic nature. All I know is that he made me the executor of his estate and must have known that I would remember the Tree and try to find it. Sure enough, I found it hidden on the top shelf in his garage.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter looked over at the Tree of Life. “How does the magic work?” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin smiled. “The gems are like the symbols in the Tarot cards, except the gems are tangible. With the Tarot cards, you have to rely entirely on your imagination to let the forces through. With the gems, all you do is touch them. When you do the cosmic force comes through and stimulates the subconscious mind. In other words, an influx of power affects your aura, and if your brain is in a receptive state, the subconscious mind will present the force to your conscious mind as an archetypal symbol or God or Archangel in the mind's eye. If you touch the ruby, for instance, you will feel the power of Mars, which can manifest as great courage and energy, and you might see an archetypal symbol such as a sword or a warrior king or God in your mind's eye."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter touched the ruby and felt a wave of power wash over his sphere of sensation, and in his mind’s eye, he envisioned a king dressed in armor and a red cape who was holding a sword and shield. “Wow, why doesn’t everyone know about this?” Peter gasped.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “The force of the gems, each of which represents a sphere on the Tree of Life, can also be unbalancing. In other words, the force of the ruby, which represents a sphere on the Tree of Life known as Geburah, or Severity, can also manifest as cruelty and destructiveness. Each sphere has a ‘vice’ as well as a ‘virtue.’ Because of the potentially unbalancing aspect of each sphere, the stewards of the Tree have only passed on the knowledge to those who are purified and dedicated. A person who uses the knowledge for selfish ends eventually ends up destroyed by the unbalancing aspect of the forces. How the individual uses the power of the forces is his or her own karma.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter reached for the sapphire, the jewel opposite the ruby.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Whoa, there,” Justin shouted, chuckling. “You need to absorb the energy of the ruby before you invite the other powers into your life. Give it at least a week. If you do become unbalanced in that time, you can invite the powers of the opposite sphere into your aura as a way to balance the forces. The three pillars of the Tree reveal polarity and balance. The two outer pillars represent polarity, and the middle pillar represents the balance of the forces. The sixth sphere, known as Tiphareth, or Beauty, harmonizes all the forces, and is therefore known as the ‘Christ Center.’ All of these forces can have a life-changing effect on the psyche, so you need to be extremely careful when handling them, especially since each force tends to be a higher vibration than we're used to.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “So do people start to think you’re strange if you do this? Is that what happened to your uncle?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I’m not going to lie to you, Peter. That is likely to happen. Just look at the Tarot card ‘The Hanged Man,’ which represents one of the paths on the Tree. Most people live within a very limited range of emotional, mental and spiritual frequencies. You have to choose between being considered ‘normal’ or realizing the potentials of the self, which requires great sacrifice. This is one of the most important choices you will ever make.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I guess I should think about it, but I have a feeling I know what the answer is going to be.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I had a feeling that you might,” Justin laughed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Before I go, I've got something to tell you, which is the reason I came over in the first place. I’ve got some bad news," Peter muttered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin furrowed his eyebrows.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter continued, "The landlord has evicted us. You probably about to receive an eviction notice too."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "That landlord has eyes everywhere."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "My brother told him."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Because my brother hates me," Peter sighed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Did your brother ask him for money or something?" Cashing asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "He said he was trying to keep the landlord from evicting my family by telling the landlord the truth. I’m not so sure why he really did it," Peter frowned. "Unfortunately, my family is behind on the rent like everyone else."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Just then, the manager knocked on Cashing's door. "Consider yourself served," the manager sneered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The envelope containing the eviction notice also contained a short letter from the landlord. "Why don’t we meet tomorrow at three o'clock in my office downtown?" the note read. The address was included in the letterhead.</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-64790730142618336982013-11-29T16:02:00.003-08:002014-02-20T08:42:44.859-08:00CHAPTER EIGHT: THE ARTIST ARRESTED<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCqV39623GNLrtMrJ_Z5IbHeQV4XDFGWq_RwJLPD2b-opEREf8NoAPfq3Uf_Jgoo6w1Z7iy1BGG5Tlh78O9idnTdkLwEdoF_Ul3cV67D6avG4kFSyn3zIWsVtrbPO0W77mPQRWP7HlL8/s1600/circle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheCqV39623GNLrtMrJ_Z5IbHeQV4XDFGWq_RwJLPD2b-opEREf8NoAPfq3Uf_Jgoo6w1Z7iy1BGG5Tlh78O9idnTdkLwEdoF_Ul3cV67D6avG4kFSyn3zIWsVtrbPO0W77mPQRWP7HlL8/s640/circle.jpg" height="640" width="470" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/"><span id="goog_274787325"></span>Root Chakra</a><span id="goog_274787326"></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER NINE: THE BLACK HOLE</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter liked meditating early in the morning when other people in his family were still asleep or just beginning to stir. In addition to feeling the security of having his family nearby, unbiased in their sleep by the beliefs that they had established about him, his dreams were still fresh, and he was not in danger of falling asleep. Often he would lie still for over an hour before he got out of bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> As he meditated, he intuited that the minds of many people were focused on the black cross. Some, of course, were giving up their sin and regret and suffering, but Peter also sensed others who were supporting the cross with their emotional, mental, and spiritual energy. Jesus was not the only one taking in negative feelings and thoughts in order to cleanse humanity. Many other people and spiritual entities were helping. Suddenly Peter had the feeling that he could help too. He wasn’t sure how, but he began to focus his energy in such as way as to take some of the blackness into himself, as if he were part of a large effort to cleanse the excess dark energy from the world.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Just as he was filling himself with light to cleanse the blackness from his soul, he heard some commotion in the courtyard. He peeked out the bedroom window and saw the police dragging away the artist who lived in a second story apartment across the way. They were pushing him and nudging him with rifle butts. Once Peter had shown the artist some of his own work, and the artist had been full of praise and encouragement. Then the artist had shown Peter a work in progress: on a huge canvas one person in thirty different poses in three rows on a bright red background. Though the poses were not contorted, when Peter stepped away from the painting, the figures appeared to be writhing in torment, possibly due to the red background.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The police also brought out the artist’s nine-year-old son, who watched his father get into the police car. The artist just sat in the police car looking straight ahead.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Hey, what are you doing?" Peter yelled through the window. People from all over <a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">the complex</a> were gathering in the complex, but nobody responded, so Peter ran outside in his pajamas. He found Cashing in the crowd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Apparently they believe your artist friend robbed a 7-11 last night. Looks like people around here are really starting to get desperate," Cashing said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What will they do with his son?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "They’ll probably take him to his mother, if they can find her. I’ve heard that she’s a drug addict who just got out of jail. If they can’t find her, the boy will probably just go into foster care."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> They watched silently as the police escorted the boy to another police car.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Can we do anything?" Peter asked as the police drove away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I don’t think our meditations can help him much," Cashing mumbled, putting his hand on Peter’s shoulder. "I wish there was something we could do. I just finished an article on Archangels, which probably won't do any good anyway. <a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">Maybe you'd like to read it?</a>"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I want to deal with this. Can’t we bail him out, or something?" Peter said loudly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "No one here has that kind of money."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What if everyone here gave a little money to bail him out?" Peter was no longer just talking to Cashing, but to what was left of the crowd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> People just started walking away, shaking their heads and mumbling.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter followed Cashing into his apartment. "You don’t believe that we’re doing any good?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "A famous man once said that the more you know, the more you want to crawl into a black hole and die, or something like that. I like your ideas. Really I do. I think they’re very beautiful. Maybe some ideas are just too beautiful for this world."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter stared at the floor.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Look, I found out something else, and you’re not going to like it," Cashing said. "Our friend the landlord owns the place where we meditated the other day. He bought it a year ago from an old lady who doesn’t have any family in the area. Apparently he wants to build a subdivision on that land, an upscale housing project with a golf course."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, no, how can that be? You’ve got to be kidding. This is too much of a freaking coincidence!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> 'Too much of a coincidence? I thought so too, so I checked it out to make sure. I told you this guy practically owns this town. I’m not kidding you."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Can’t we do something to stop it?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "How do you think I ended up in this hole in the first place?" Cashing blurted out. "By fighting people like him--that’s how. The next stop after this is the street, my friend. Hell, he’s probably already planning to evict me. How many fronts do you think I can fight on, anyway?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I just think that we shouldn’t give up so easily. There’s got to be something we can do," Peter mumbled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Like what? This might sound cliched, my friend, but money talks and losers walk. He can buy off the archeologist who surveys the land for Native American artifacts. He can buy off the county planning commission and the board of supervisors. He can even buy off the judges who preside over the lawsuits. I’ve seen it happen before, more than once. Just the promise of financial support is enough to buy the loyalty of the people who make the decisions around here."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, okay, but I’m not going to crawl in some black hole and die," Peter blurted out. "<a href="http://www.pathsandthrones.blogspot.com/">I still think we can do something</a>."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter slammed the door and ran home.</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-67377936045163482002013-11-28T12:26:00.002-08:002014-02-20T08:42:34.847-08:00CHAPTER SEVEN: THE ANCIENT VILLAGE<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNDQ28dhp57jU__u_UgQ2rpMbp0rLa-RWV6CvnlJOirJ2dlh14df5gfdJ4z9LVj97S5vUMSU9OUgWCCVSzPvJVOV_PLInDC1L0tk-h51fe-BYuGpD6on4Ihm-CLAJmuJX7EdRZHR0Ec/s1600/fairck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtUNDQ28dhp57jU__u_UgQ2rpMbp0rLa-RWV6CvnlJOirJ2dlh14df5gfdJ4z9LVj97S5vUMSU9OUgWCCVSzPvJVOV_PLInDC1L0tk-h51fe-BYuGpD6on4Ihm-CLAJmuJX7EdRZHR0Ec/s640/fairck.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandthrones.blogspot.com/">Pounding Stone After a Rain</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER EIGHT: </a></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">THE VILLAGE IN THE WOODS</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> Peter went to his room and closed the door. Fortunately his parents were running errands, and his brother was watching TV. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He was drifting, thoughtless, in the void when suddenly he felt a familiar touch on his face, a cross between a scratch and a tickle. Peter envisioned a ridge near Sycamore Creek where he had once found a pestle in a mortar. On that ridge a low rock formed a rough semicircle where the tribe, Peter imagined, had held rituals. Suddenly, a dirt-covered Indian with long, shaggy black hair that hid both face and chest stepped into the semi-circle. The Indian, who carried a spear, wore only a loin cloth, but Peter could not tell if the Indian was a man or a woman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter was afraid for a moment, but the Indian seemed to be ignoring him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Are you my guide?" Peter mentally asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The Indian stood motionless and silent for what seemed like a long time, then placed the spear on the ground, pointing toward the semi-circle of stone, which suddenly resembled horns.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter opened his eyes, overwhelmed by the urge to go back to Sycamore Creek. He closed his eyes again, trying to meditate some more, but he soon fell asleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> When he woke up, he noticed that over an hour had passed since he had started meditating. He headed over to Cashing’s apartment to see if the meeting was over. Cashing was just putting the final touches on a strange, dream-like story.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> "What’s that you’re working on?" Peter asked after Cashing opened the door..</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Would you like to take a look?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter read it quickly. “That’s pretty cool!" Peter exclaimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Would you like to read the rest? <a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">Click on this link if you’d like to read more</a>,” Cashing responded encouragingly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “I’d like to, but I really came over for another reason. How did the meeting go?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "This is a tough issue. There’s not a lot we can do legally. On a political level, we might stage a press conference and boycott the businesses owned by our landlord. He is a very rich man, by the way, who owns a lot of businesses here in town. There’s no reason for him to be hurting people like this."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Hey, you know what? When I was meditating, a spirit guide told me to go to a special place in the woods. We could meditate there, and maybe you might think of a solution to this problem. What do you think?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "So you have a spirit guide. I might have known. You want to go now?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Sure, why not? My parents won’t miss me for awhile, at least not till it gets dark."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I don't want to piss off your parents again, but, on the other hand, I don’t have anything planned for today. You’re sure your parents won’t mind?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "They know you’re okay. Besides, they won’t even realize I’m gone. They’re out running around doing errands. Sometimes they run errands all day long."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing’s old Corolla struggled up the steep inclines, threatening to overheat, but soon they found a place to park next to an unchained gate.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "My, my, talk about coincidence. I used to wander around on this property all the time, twenty years ago. I can probably even tell you where you’re planning to take me. Coincidence just seems to be all too common for us."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’ll follow you, then, at least until you start to get us lost," Peter laughed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> As they hiked down the trail, Justin waxed philosophical, "On one level, the modern 'magician' is a kind of shaman who not only uses symbols and archetypes to connect with invisible subtle energies, but also strives to connect with the subtle energies of visible living creatures, which requires deep cleansing of the subconscious, great empathy, and a kind of rebirth of the self. In other words, the modern shaman is reborn into kinship, relying on the ego as a survival tool but seeing beyond, through sympathetic imagination, to the deep connection he or she has with all living things, and seeing beyond also to the possibilities of indeterminacy and otherness. The shaman strives to know the element of Earth as much as any other element, to know living plants and animals as well as invisible spirits. After all, the ability to know one goes hand in hand with the ability to know the other because sympathy is required for both. The modern shaman thrives on the adventures of otherness and the creative indeterminacy of Being, which is the mercy of eternity."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter just nodded his head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing was profoundly curious but didn’t ask any questions. He wanted to see whether or not Peter had a different idea about where they should go. He led Peter down a crumbling oiled road littered by shotgun shells, dried cow patties, and buckeye seeds. Grass and milkweed were growing in the cracks created by run-off from the slopes. Finally they reached a ridge where they could hear a creek in the distance. An old trail ran parallel to the road for a few feet and then curved down toward the creek. Cashing paused.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "So you do know this place," Peter said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I know it well. Which way do you want to go?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Let’s head out to the ridge," Peter pointed north.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> They crossed the faint trail, stepped over a fallen gray pine, and soon found themselves on a pounding stone overlooking the creek.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Notice anything?" Cashing asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You mean the house pits?" Peter pointed to five circular indentations in the ground near the pounding stone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Precisely. At first I thought cattle had worn those holes in the ground, but then, after I explored the area carefully, I realized that people must have made them."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Do you want to follow that trail down to the creek?" Peter pointed back toward the road.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing, amazed by Peter’s knowledge of the area, was tempted to tell him about an experience that had occurred years before. Cashing had first approached the area by hiking east along the creek. As he was hiking, the sun was going down and the air was cooling off, the creek gurgling and crickets scraping out a pleasant song. Cashing had suddenly experienced the sensation that he had been there before and then felt very powerful feelings of jealousy and rage that did not belong to him. He then knew that he would find something if he kept walking on the stones next to the creek. Soon he came upon a pounding stone right next to the water. He sat down and closed his eyes. He was suddenly sure that he would find a trail not far from the pounding stone. He scrambled up the slope under the low branches of an ancient oak tree and immediately found the trail, which led to where he and Peter were now standing. Cashing, who had contemplated reincarnation as a possible explanation while hiking along the trail those many years ago, had somehow known that he would find a pounding stone on a ridge, even though he had never been there before.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing began hiking down the trail. Peter followed silently behind him. Soon they were sitting on the pounding stone next to the creek. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "So, is this where you want to meditate?" Cashing asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "This is not where my spirit guide told me to go," Peter replied. "We need to cross the creek. It’s just up there," Peter pointed to the top of the hill on the other side of the creek.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The water was high, the rocks were unstable, but they both managed to ford the creek without getting wet. As they were scrambling up the slope, Cashing again had the sense that he had been there before. As they reached the top, Cashing stepped on a pounding stone that was almost completely covered by dirt.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "It’s over there," Peter blurted out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> They found the rough semicircle of stone and sat down.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "For some reason, I feel mighty strange. This must be the place," Cashing smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, this is it," Peter said. "Let’s just meditate for a while and see what happens. I don’t feel like thinking about that landlord right now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing found himself sucked very quickly into the meditative state, because, it seemed, he and Peter had suddenly tuned in to the same mental frequency. After awhile, Cashing envisioned himself before a fire in the semicircle of stone. Faces of elders flickered and glowed in the firelight. Suddenly he sensed that Peter was beside him in the vision, but Peter had a different face, not just because the firelight was flickering. They were both Native Americans, but Peter was older, a young man, not a teenager. Cashing then realized that in his vision he was looking at Peter through the eyes of a woman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Startled, Cashing opened his eyes. Peter opened his eyes at the same time and turned to Cashing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I just saw something strange," Peter exclaimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "So did I," Cashing replied. "You go first."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I saw both of us sitting around a fire," Peter said, "but you were a woman."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Don’t tell me," Cashing said. "We were both Native Americans?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yes," Peter said, "and we were both right here."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I think we should keep trying, and this time don’t stop even if you see something really weird," Peter suggested.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "All right, this is just another one of those things that I'm not going to be able to explain. Let’s do it," Cashing agreed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Again Cashing found himself very quickly in the meditative state, but for what seemed like a long time, he sat with his mind in the void, trying to keep from thinking. Then suddenly he saw the hill at sunrise. He imagined stumbling down to the creek as soldiers were sneaking up on the village from the other side of the hill. Suddenly he heard gunfire. Men, women, and children were being shot down as they dashed around the hill. Suddenly a man stepped out of his hut with a bow and arrow. He sent an arrow straight into the chest of a soldier. Just as he was aiming another arrow, a cowboy who had joined the massacre shot the Native American in the back. Then the cowboy turned around. Cashing recognized the dead Native American as Peter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing couldn’t continue meditating. He opened his eyes again. Peter was breathing quietly, his eyes already open.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I think I was killed during some kind of massacre," Peter murmured.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "And I think the person who killed you was our friend the landlord--who must have been a rancher in his past life," Cashing blurted out.</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-18102391558115417502013-11-25T07:50:00.001-08:002015-04-03T10:19:20.978-07:00CHAPTER SIX: CASHING'S PAST<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3I7JGvgIMH5g5o4AFs42DWZPrEAd25RVUcupJFVNFCx31Pw5mZoQ888pFeODQdCxcDeGp6OWzaq0da-cOmpF7UxxbD1X5oq9Y_oRTyImR-qPe4yfgP4LK-ui8Zxx70nT7aUR0GIsWBZk/s1600/antrail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3I7JGvgIMH5g5o4AFs42DWZPrEAd25RVUcupJFVNFCx31Pw5mZoQ888pFeODQdCxcDeGp6OWzaq0da-cOmpF7UxxbD1X5oq9Y_oRTyImR-qPe4yfgP4LK-ui8Zxx70nT7aUR0GIsWBZk/s640/antrail.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">Ancient Trail in Inundation Zone of Proposed Dam</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER SEVEN: ACTIVIST AND TEACHER</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> As soon as Peter stepped through the door, he discovered his mother talking on the phone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Uh-oh," he thought as he rushed to his room.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Peter," she called, "I want to talk to you." She opened his door and peered in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I just got a call from our minister. He said that you were there with that man--that man I told you not to talk to anymore."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What? I’m not allowed to pray anymore?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> She stepped into his room. "That’s not the point, and you know it. I told you not to talk to that man, and the first thing you do is go talk to him. Is he some kind of religious fanatic, or something? Is that why you like him?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I like him because he’s helping me to develop spiritually, mentally and emotionally, if that’s what you mean," Peter retorted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Look, I know that you’re more spiritually inclined than most of us. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, but you have to be so careful these days. I would be happy to invite him over for dinner. Would you like that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter suddenly imagined how his father and brother might act at dinner. "No," he whispered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> As though understanding Peter’s thoughts, she asked, "Then what can I do? How do I know that I can trust him?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "We’re just trying to think of different ways to help people. Can’t you at least trust me?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, all right. I just want you to tell me if anything strange happens. I want to know more about him. I’m only watching out for you, you know."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, I know. Thanks, Mom."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter ran straight to Cashing’s apartment after pulling his pack of Tarot cards out of the garbage can. He decided to keep the pack with him wherever he went. When Peter got to Cashing’s apartment, he blurted out, "That minister actually called my Mom. Can you believe that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Here’s to the few who don’t care what you do!" Cashing laughed, raising a glass. Cashing had just put the finishing touches on the illustrations for a children's story he had written:</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><i><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">THE GREAT FAIRY PRINCESS</a></i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0Oo8wrrKdLf8oHoe19WRhhx0rryyjHSCrxWed_SNYjcESDW9ek9wL3WbQzInMCqPj4-dQC5qivvzvif5npVY8-xMG0x7nCvmoeLTOuB9UfE8jl-8kT11w7mly-H-qrVm7RplisOys4_1/s1600/claire.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU0Oo8wrrKdLf8oHoe19WRhhx0rryyjHSCrxWed_SNYjcESDW9ek9wL3WbQzInMCqPj4-dQC5qivvzvif5npVY8-xMG0x7nCvmoeLTOuB9UfE8jl-8kT11w7mly-H-qrVm7RplisOys4_1/s640/claire.jpg" height="640" width="428" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">Swallowtail Fairy</a></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>While Mommy was making dinner</i></span></div>
<div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>for the fairies--honey dew and nectar</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and cotton candy spider webs--</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Daddy made a spell to help Claire </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>sprout her fairy wings. Then Claire</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>stepped into the garden, calling all</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>the fairy folk to dinner, and one</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>in the guise of a swallowtail</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>flitted near red and yellow roses,</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>but then it flew away, laughing.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>"Come back and play with me!" </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Claire demanded, but it kept </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>flitting here and there, deeper </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and deeper into the forest.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArwKRPu00g-upSrdVc5smbqB5wHOY4T_wh-kpBye7ZZJF73JfdbEn3lD_1uft_s6RIF3fznRHvyg8NEtIIB6aP7tdVGPDEPBFMRO_fFigrnXkLQ9apbiWS8TsWH_qdcPh9yQ787Z9vR9X/s1600/gnome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjArwKRPu00g-upSrdVc5smbqB5wHOY4T_wh-kpBye7ZZJF73JfdbEn3lD_1uft_s6RIF3fznRHvyg8NEtIIB6aP7tdVGPDEPBFMRO_fFigrnXkLQ9apbiWS8TsWH_qdcPh9yQ787Z9vR9X/s640/gnome.jpg" height="640" width="420" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/4cups.htm">Gnome with Tiger Lilies</a></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Mommy had warned her not to follow </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>the path into the woods, but Claire wanted so</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>to be with her fairy friends that she galloped </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>down the path after the swallowtail fairy.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Suddenly a little man with a funny hat </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>appeared on the trunk of a fallen tree. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>"Your mommy told you not to go this far. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Watch out for the bad fairies!" he sighed.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXMaQISmnVEYuT_u0LZBl8aSSUXr9pyxPPSmBP684lEk-JPx5_e6Rg7YQK1JQST8kF2p2cPVxMf1L2SNPtwcbxNRiljJlJMENszDtKf3GvEWGfU4VpyNTwt7jqGqomXmoWIirbvaoGFdC/s1600/flying.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDXMaQISmnVEYuT_u0LZBl8aSSUXr9pyxPPSmBP684lEk-JPx5_e6Rg7YQK1JQST8kF2p2cPVxMf1L2SNPtwcbxNRiljJlJMENszDtKf3GvEWGfU4VpyNTwt7jqGqomXmoWIirbvaoGFdC/s640/flying.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/8wands.htm">The Bad Fairy</a></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Soon the bad fairies came, and one of them </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>waved a wand over Claire's head. Suddenly </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>she lifted off the ground and drifted over </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>to a flower. The bad fairies giggled </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and flitted deeper into the forest. They growled </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and screeched and made a terrible ruckus.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHX01HPsTj0Hp1rlT3XaypqoeKtCYuiFfAZUOQbS423pJB20jwZKp62lwYpw4ppTObYa_IQb-JubRFbZ37yoQnzN31jgyADwxegckgAy9N-WzIE23knU4RMIuNESvbJGVrk0VA3nSvJm3/s1600/funny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivHX01HPsTj0Hp1rlT3XaypqoeKtCYuiFfAZUOQbS423pJB20jwZKp62lwYpw4ppTObYa_IQb-JubRFbZ37yoQnzN31jgyADwxegckgAy9N-WzIE23knU4RMIuNESvbJGVrk0VA3nSvJm3/s640/funny.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/6sword.htm">The Winged Tiger</a></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><i>The bad fairies turned into strange, fierce animals. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Then Claire turned into a winged tiger that roared </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and bared its teeth and waved its terrible claws </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>this way and that. The gnome was not very happy!</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5tH4TA5vs2r9GGSH85vCRjYE9X8LM_V-cpO9iRXZbL-5RWUVQyFeYUGjQWAi8LdPJ1f7cuChIEcDBrqvZ2J6w1XHEs72Xfk72FalyN_hgb7PjY1NTR_TlHExN0mM87jrSBCx_Zv2nqlJ/s1600/goddes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb5tH4TA5vs2r9GGSH85vCRjYE9X8LM_V-cpO9iRXZbL-5RWUVQyFeYUGjQWAi8LdPJ1f7cuChIEcDBrqvZ2J6w1XHEs72Xfk72FalyN_hgb7PjY1NTR_TlHExN0mM87jrSBCx_Zv2nqlJ/s640/goddes.jpg" height="640" width="434" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path13.htm">Queen of the Fairies</a></i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Suddenly, Claire saw the Queen of the Fairies</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>standing by a stream. The Queen turned to Claire </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and declared, "You are not a terrible animal. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>You are a princess, and you shall rule with me."</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUszAcEPOVlS2o8keZ3FeUP_kdXCQu3VvadwTumBEXSt4iifWjmxOpkCrKhLiCNYWKhXAl4IiCX8QtjZEs8a9wnZDYwn7mKnPxnjIdKdLU4WWuy88o9xmX_ciOsx9mFO3vkYvLB8CaVXdd/s1600/chp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUszAcEPOVlS2o8keZ3FeUP_kdXCQu3VvadwTumBEXSt4iifWjmxOpkCrKhLiCNYWKhXAl4IiCX8QtjZEs8a9wnZDYwn7mKnPxnjIdKdLU4WWuy88o9xmX_ciOsx9mFO3vkYvLB8CaVXdd/s640/chp1.jpg" height="640" width="428" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/cqueen.htm"><i>The Banquet</i></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Claire took her place on the throne.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Then Claire commanded the bad fairies, </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>"Stop! Now join me in the feast!" </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The bad fairies gazed in wonder </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>at the golden plates and cups </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>on the pure, white tablecloth.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6lX-a7118ZsIxlUSd3L6l3XVi6uxhC2VV90ZTqYtR98zvBiYe89SlZ9aPurFUQ52-T9fLEDSJsyy_rnAMPyJAldSnCYqt-MHXk3r5aTnOJZimPfhxoIOyXFny_g5gd6TCBBc2TLaRrc9/s1600/snow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW6lX-a7118ZsIxlUSd3L6l3XVi6uxhC2VV90ZTqYtR98zvBiYe89SlZ9aPurFUQ52-T9fLEDSJsyy_rnAMPyJAldSnCYqt-MHXk3r5aTnOJZimPfhxoIOyXFny_g5gd6TCBBc2TLaRrc9/s640/snow.jpg" height="640" width="522" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/wqueen.htm"><i>The Fairy Princess</i></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Soon the bad fairies fell asleep. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The Queen was suddenly </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>nowhere in sight. Claire felt lonely </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and missed her garden. She wanted </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>to give her Mommy and Daddy a hug.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaN-TDCm04I9XSJcMwrMfgS4I2PSi2nsvit_wuFTJpGX5GkBEpheMSst3C14Gp6un9dr-I6uTh-4FnKAqEe3HlQp_7CgNrrSx-5VCPEQW-fhtFvNE8jxL6yCyL6fLAyYEkocZN2OvOYJvN/s1600/fairys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaN-TDCm04I9XSJcMwrMfgS4I2PSi2nsvit_wuFTJpGX5GkBEpheMSst3C14Gp6un9dr-I6uTh-4FnKAqEe3HlQp_7CgNrrSx-5VCPEQW-fhtFvNE8jxL6yCyL6fLAyYEkocZN2OvOYJvN/s640/fairys.jpg" height="640" width="426" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/pqueen.htm"><i>The Good Fairies</i></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>So she took off her crown </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and her wings and found a path. </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>The good fairies helped her </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>find her way. She plodded along </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>in the dusk, hearing distant music </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and smelling good things to eat</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>from far away in another land.</i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54xRbE8kUQVlMo6vFpFvLumu-fKF3hT28bp7qrRxsGizWfW-3RhiCjMuDbQ7gvZ5roeH5SIRdvCZ9HxIFdxH8aSS4xaq6gvIyZeaGPKED3aiSFQVYKGhDlfPlUCks4WIE61z2NJOz8FFh/s1600/hide.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi54xRbE8kUQVlMo6vFpFvLumu-fKF3hT28bp7qrRxsGizWfW-3RhiCjMuDbQ7gvZ5roeH5SIRdvCZ9HxIFdxH8aSS4xaq6gvIyZeaGPKED3aiSFQVYKGhDlfPlUCks4WIE61z2NJOz8FFh/s640/hide.jpg" height="640" width="520" /></i></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/range.htm"><i>Peek-a-Boo</i></a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>Just as it was getting dark, </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>she found the garden </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and her Mommy and Daddy, </i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><i>and they gave her a big hug.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.blogspot.com/">THE END</a></span><br />
<br /></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter blurted out, "I convinced my Mom that you’re okay. I can actually talk to you now."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Hallelujah! Come on in then," Cashing smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter</span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">, who was still upset, ignored Cashing's work and stated, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"My mom wants to know more about you, though. What can I tell her?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing looked a little anxious. "Well, you don’t want to hear my life story, do you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Only the good stuff."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Your mom probably wants to know how I ended up in this dump. Well, believe it or not, I used to be a teacher. For many years, I taught several classes a semester at a community college. I was what they call an adjunct professor. In other words, I only taught part-time. The college relies heavily on part-time teachers in order to avoid paying benefits or salaries. So I also worked as a substitute teacher. With those two jobs, I managed to scrape by."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Doesn’t sound too bad," Peter said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Well, it wasn’t, actually. My schedule was flexible. I could write stories and music and be an activist. I actually decided that I didn’t want to teach full time."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What happened?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I mentioned that I was an activist. Well, I wrote an opinion piece for the newspaper. It was one of many opinion pieces that I’ve published, but this was the first one that happened to mention that I was a teacher at that particular community college. I didn’t discover until two days before the next semester began that I had not been rehired. After twelve years of excellent evaluations by students and administrators, I suddenly discovered they didn’t want me to teach anymore. They didn’t even bother to tell me--I had to call to find out why my name wasn’t mentioned in the schedule of courses. The irony is that I was at the top of my game as a teacher. In all modesty, I had never even imagined when I began that I could teach so effectively."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIfgR3i0K4w8oibvgd1xjzbkE7ef37kDkGe8rMV1FiEKG-61WrmeL2PZOsM1anUs43mK6yrw0Ri5kn6ASFu6ZlHM3DuOBuxhZ6ul_gw6wKS0fEiBEMPCEQZjyCaAHLnKMTdSzEkOkOyc/s1600/bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfIfgR3i0K4w8oibvgd1xjzbkE7ef37kDkGe8rMV1FiEKG-61WrmeL2PZOsM1anUs43mK6yrw0Ri5kn6ASFu6ZlHM3DuOBuxhZ6ul_gw6wKS0fEiBEMPCEQZjyCaAHLnKMTdSzEkOkOyc/s640/bridge.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Inundation Zone of Proposed Dam:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/nocon.htm">Read about the Exploitation</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "That sucks. Are you still a substitute?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "That’s the thing. I never obtained a teaching credential. I only had a master’s degree, so strangely enough the public school district wouldn’t hire me even though I had over a decade of experience teaching at a community college. Since I was never going to be hired full-time, I finally just decided to throw in the towel. I’m now living on a rapidly diminishing retirement fund, and I'll probably need to start subbing again pretty soon. This thirty percent raise in rent is certainly not helping any."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "God, I know. My family is freakin’ out. Everyone’s been in a really bad mood lately. My mom keeps saying that you can’t trust anyone. My dad keeps pointing out that you can’t be weak in this world, and my brother keeps calling me gay. It’s depressing."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Maybe we should do that little meditation ritual for our landlord," Cashing laughed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Couldn’t hoit," Peter said with an affected accent.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, but you know what? I just remembered. I’m going to a meeting on the rent increase in a few minutes. We’ll have to do our little ritual later. You’re welcome to join us. It’s just me and a couple of others."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Naw. I’m not really political," Peter smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Everything is political, my friend."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I thought everything was sacred."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, everything is political and sacred. We just have a landlord who believes that one thing is more sacred than others."</span>
<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-25409729438177260912013-11-23T16:45:00.001-08:002013-11-23T16:45:29.884-08:00FINDING THE FOUNDATION<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNrW8GRZXJCUGeU-6g0pQe2KTscioYIzdmAyeDMwF_gaWi6kGZmbka6eSFAf8-dEQFI9_MueHIqcLpLwSViZTUV1jM5bf0pQH02u6rDNYv1H-YRxxTHs-0t_xRJbGLh0N50IbFFreSWY/s1600/found1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaNrW8GRZXJCUGeU-6g0pQe2KTscioYIzdmAyeDMwF_gaWi6kGZmbka6eSFAf8-dEQFI9_MueHIqcLpLwSViZTUV1jM5bf0pQH02u6rDNYv1H-YRxxTHs-0t_xRJbGLh0N50IbFFreSWY/s640/found1.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/">Foundation of House, Kings River</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER SIX: A TRIP TO CHURCH</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing had no discretionary income but indulged in short trips to the foothills, where he would often trespass to explore the trails and village sites along creeks and rivers, the price of retaining his sanity, he rationalized. One day as he drove on a single lane road along the Kings River, he glanced at the floodplain and for a second glimpsed the concrete foundation of a large building below in the flood plain of the river. He experienced at that moment a twinge of remembrance but did not recall the significance of the foundation until he was falling asleep that evening, suddenly recalling a trip to the Kings River with his family when he was eleven or twelve, not long after they had moved to Fresno from Los Angeles. He and his brother had slept on the back seat as the car slowly wound its way up the hills, both of them waking as the car glided into a grassy area next to the road, “In the Ghetto” by Elvis Presley coming in clear on the radio, his Dad, before turning off the car, uncharacteristically allowing the song to reach its conclusion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> As his Dad fished from a sandy bank, Justin gazed transfixed at a huge spider web in the foliage near the road until he located a bulbous spider in the corner of the web and jumped back, horrified. Justin's brother called from a dirt road next to the river, excitedly yelling that he had found something, then dashing off down the road and vanishing in bushes behind a tall tree. Justin sprinted after him but couldn’t find him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Feeling suddenly very alone, Justin tip-toed between the bushes, expecting an ambush, until he noticed his brother off in the distance in a clearing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “What took you so long?” his brother sneered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin saw several large slabs of concrete. Looking closer, he recognized that the concrete formed the foundation of a large building, a fact which had initially escaped him because several trees were growing inside what used to be a house. He jumped up on the foundation and walked around on a low concrete wall until he reached a point where the concrete was broken up by the roots of the trees.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Confused, afraid and fascinated all at once, suddenly unable to move, Justin stared at the uncountable leaves inside what was left of the house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “Let’s go,” his brother shouted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> “No,” Justin responded, uncharacteristically.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> His brother squinted. “C’mon, let’s go! What’s your damn problem?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin just stared at the tumbled concrete of the foundation. His brother took off, leaving Justin alone again. He looked around carefully, disappointed, on one hand, by his inability to comprehend the feelings inspired by the foundation, and, on the other, by the fact that he would never be able to inch all the way around the house on the low, concrete wall, as if on a tight rope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Finally, Justin got down from the concrete, suddenly hearing a loud voice in his head, “You will be back in thirty-five years….” </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Scared out of his wits, Justin raced back through the bushes to the dirt road, wanting to tell everyone about that voice, which he had never heard before. But when Justin crept up to his father, who was silently reeling in the line, suddenly the voice didn‘t seem real anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Thirty five years later, Justin noticed the foundation of the house as he was driving by, never before glancing down at the river bottom at exactly the right moment on any of the other trips he had taken to the Kings River.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The next day, during the meditation portion of his daily ritual, Justin envisioned the God Horus standing on a concrete stage at one end of the foundation. That didn’t make sense to Justin because he only remembered the concrete where the walls of the different rooms had been, so he drove back to the Kings River the next week to investigate the foundation and discovered that the house did indeed have two concrete patios resembling stages at both ends--his waking vision truer than his memory of the place. When he stood next to the concrete, everything seemed to be as it had that day thirty-five years before, as if he had been gone only a few minutes, the river flowing serenely beyond a small beach of white sand, the dirt road still heading back beyond huge sycamores and oaks, the spider web gone, his father dead of a heart attack a few years after that fishing trip thirty-five years ago, his family members almost losing touch.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> During the period that he rediscovered the foundation, Justin had become an occultist, communing with Isis, Thoth, and Osiris during his personal rituals. In the process, he had experienced symbolic death several times in meditation as well as a great sense of cosmic harmony, and he recognized that the Christ is not a man but a cosmic force that the symbolic forms of savior figures such as Osiris, Dionysus, and Jesus personify, enabling the worshipper to channel the force into the heart and mind. Thoth, the heart and tongue of Ra, embodies the mighty Logos, the Word that channels the primal forces into manifestation, and Isis looms as the Mighty Mother, the root of all form in the manifested universe. Horus shines as the symbol of the higher self, the expression of Divine Will on the physical plane, conceived after Isis put Osiris back together.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> When he returned thirty-five years later to the foundation of the house, Justin imagined Horus standing on the concrete slab, which was more like an altar than a patio or a stage, and Justin's inner voice whispered that he should not give his spiritual power away to anything or anyone on the physical plane. Justin consciously became at that moment what he had tried to avoid, as if he had suddenly grown into a set of clothes that had always been waiting for him: A renegade who would go his own way no matter what. He wondered for a moment if his new-found friendship with Peter was in any way part of his path now.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIF3pbLZ0I1YsHcNAwaUGXi2jUFm0LvukOlhCRsdsUq6yHugi3-Zk27mLcsjiijBQzB9-e5CZjUhrTlMwcv7UrZRzP1GjLfwnuCzXT6jDlt-mUapIJ5MVZM4JSKfrvbCzOLybu1BuyBA/s1600/flat2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIF3pbLZ0I1YsHcNAwaUGXi2jUFm0LvukOlhCRsdsUq6yHugi3-Zk27mLcsjiijBQzB9-e5CZjUhrTlMwcv7UrZRzP1GjLfwnuCzXT6jDlt-mUapIJ5MVZM4JSKfrvbCzOLybu1BuyBA/s640/flat2.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">Pounding Stone, Kings River and Big Creek</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> At breakfast, Peter’s mother asked, "Why are you spending so much time with that man?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What man?" Peter replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "The man in apartment 104."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, you mean Justin. We just talk about stuff."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I bet I know why he spends so much time over there," Chuck paused. "Because he’s gay!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Mom," Peter whined.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Does that man ever touch you?" his mom asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "No! What are you talking about? We just like to hang out together."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Chuck stepped behind his mother and mouthed the word "fairy." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Where did you get these?" Peter’s mother held out his pack of Tarot cards. "Chuck found these in your top dresser drawer."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Tell him to stay out of my stuff!" Peter yelled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Did that man give these to you?" his mom asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "No, he just helps me understand what they mean."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "And how does he know what they mean?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "He knows a lot of things. I don’t know. He reads a lot. He’s a philosopher," Peter replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I don’t want these cards in my house," his mother insisted. "Your father and I agree. We are a good Christian family and this sort of thing does not belong here." She threw the Tarot cards in the garbage.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Mom!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I don’t want you wasting your money on that stuff anymore, and I don’t want you spending any more time with that man. You can’t trust anyone these days. Now go clean your room. I don’t want you to come out until that room is spotless."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "But, Mom!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Go, now!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Later that day, Peter sneaked out of the apartment. When Justin opened the door, Peter mumbled, "My mom found the Tarot cards. She doesn’t want me to talk to you anymore."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You’re kidding? Do you want me to have a chat with her?" Justin asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "No, she won’t listen to anyone. She gets an idea in her head and won’t let it go. She doesn’t trust anybody."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin stared at Peter. "I have an idea," Justin said. "Can you sneak out to the church down the street? We can meet there and act like we’re praying."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, I’ll meet you there in ten minutes," Peter blurted out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter hustled back to the apartment, grabbed his bike and told his mom that he was going out for a ride. He rushed out the door before he could hear her reply.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He was down the street in no time. Pretty soon, Cashing pulled his Corolla up and parked along the curb. They entered together and plopped down in a pew. No one else appeared to be in the church.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Remember how I described it, the meditation, I mean," Peter said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing stared at the cross on the altar for a moment and then closed his eyes. As Cashing imagined the black Calvary cross, it seemed to come alive in his mind or in some other dimension, and Cashing could almost believe that black energy was floating from the old woman’s body to the cross. Then Cashing imagined her whole being filling with light, and, perhaps because of his compassion for her, Cashing had the sense that he was really helping her.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Then Cashing suddenly felt regret for things that he had done wrong, and just as he was about to ask forgiveness for himself, he heard a voice, "Can I help you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing and Peter opened their eyes. The minister was hovering over them. "We’re just prayin’together," Cashing said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’m sorry. I know Peter here because he comes to youth group, but I’m afraid I don’t know you," the minister said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Justin Cashing. Peter and I have recently become friends," Cashing said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "It’s so wonderful to have both of you here," the minister said. "It’s not easy to find men who will mentor the youth in our community. Do you go to a nearby church?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’m just getting back to my roots, so to speak. I thought I would just check out your church because Peter spoke so highly of it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The minister looked surprised. "Well, feel free to come by anytime," the minister smiled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Thank you," Peter and Cashing chimed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I think it’s time to go," Cashing mumbled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Do you think we had any effect?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’m sure we had an effect, but I’m not sure it’s the one we wanted. How well does the minister know your parents?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Pretty well."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Well enough to call them to ask about me?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, maybe."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Well, maybe it’s about time you got home."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay," Peter said and quickly rode off.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "We probably had an effect, all right," Cashing muttered.</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-13022614971966144862013-11-13T10:35:00.001-08:002014-02-20T08:40:22.483-08:00CHAPTER FOUR: VISIONS OF ARCHETYPES<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXwP6COs4dmpAVihtJUSmS4qfaZnFGrCTv2OavoLJXPNj4TI2u8oFy3zBws8t7wt7ljZOLBOsDxqGCN8cylRJ-Vu8yittX4hyphenhyphenF3fCi1p6YiK3xWcveVluU6LVQ-pBlS24YL39YBEEyAg/s1600/loiter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgXwP6COs4dmpAVihtJUSmS4qfaZnFGrCTv2OavoLJXPNj4TI2u8oFy3zBws8t7wt7ljZOLBOsDxqGCN8cylRJ-Vu8yittX4hyphenhyphenF3fCi1p6YiK3xWcveVluU6LVQ-pBlS24YL39YBEEyAg/s640/loiter.jpg" height="472" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">Milling</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER FIVE: THE GOOD VISIONS</a></span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin woke at two-thirty in the morning, but he came very close to drifting off again by three-thirty. By then his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and the streetlight casting thin bars of light on the walls seemed so bright that he began to realize that attempting to sleep was probably just an exercise in futility. At that moment, he had the sense, as perhaps most people do when approaching old age, that he hadn’t accomplished much with his life, and he knew then with regretful certainty that he wouldn’t sleep anymore, thanks to that thought. Oddly, though, Justin suspected that even if he had become emperor, he would still feel the same lack of satisfaction, a thought which, though giving him a strange and unexpected sense of liberation, did not help him get back to sleep.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> As these thoughts were whirling around in his head, Justin heard a woman screaming and cursing as if from deep inside a cave, and he believed for a moment, irrationally of course, that his thoughts had somehow caused her to despair. Like attracts like, and Justin suspected that he felt comfortable around people who cannot hide the damage that life has done to them. That was no doubt one reason that he had ended up in Sin City, a place where the damaged, one step away from homelessness or jail, came to hide or die, or in rare cases, recover. Originally known as the El Dorado District, Sin City had the highest poverty rate in the state. Celia, the drunk in Apt. 105, occasionally howled and screamed her regrets in the early morning hours until the police or an ambulance arrived, so Justin knew he wasn't dreaming. The people in his apartment complex just couldn't hide their strangeness, which was strangely comforting to him. Shirley, downstairs, a housewife, was anorexic, a living skeleton who always had a friendly smile, as if no one could see her condition. Kevin next door would take half a bottle of baby aspirin for a rush if he didn’t have any crank. Albert, who was terribly obese, had boasted that he had dodged the police once already for credit card fraud--Albert had loaded what little furniture he owned into his station wagon and disappeared one night. His rent three months over due, Jackson, a small, sickly man, loaded over twenty rifles into his van at two in the morning and drove off, never to be seen again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin shared an interest in music with his next-door neighbor Tom, the wildest-looking man Justin had ever encountered, and they jammed together occasionally in Tom’s living room--Tom's entire apartment containing only a mattress, two chairs, and a motorcycle. Justin had the urge to offer something that might help them in some way, but he was always afraid that he would look presumptuous if he tried to help, so he usually just remained polite.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> And in the early morning hours, he would sometimes hear what seemed to be a howl from one apartment which then morphed into pained, ecstatic groans from another, so that he wasn’t quite sure how to react. The voices would fade away or stop before he could tell where they were coming from. Even though they might have been coming from next door, the voices seemed far off, from another world, like the voices in his head that sometimes told him what would happen that day or decades later. Justin suddenly recalled the time he was lounging next to a remote mountain stream with a friend when he heard a man close by singing in another language. Justin exclaimed, “Wow, that’s incredible,” and ran down the stream to find the singer, leaving his friend behind. Justin couldn’t find anyone else even though the singer seemed to be right on the other side the creek, belting out one perfect song after another. A few months later, Justin mentioned the singer to his friend, and his friend looked at him and asked, “Are you crazy? What the hell are you talking about?” Justin secretly concluded that he had heard an angel, but he didn't mention it to anyone else. Other people in the apartment complex were like Justin, in a way. They weren’t sure what they were hearing, if anything at all, so they didn’t get involved, even if a stranger ran naked and screaming down the stairs in broad daylight right in front of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> At first light, moans and curses turned into blood-curdling screams. Justin peered out his window to see an old woman strapped down to a stretcher, clawing the air, weeping and groaning as she was wheeled out to an ambulance.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter had stepped out into the courtyard to observe. Justin stepped out of the door behind Peter. "The most vulnerable are already starting to lose it. That’s what happens when the owner raises the rent thirty percent. Most people here, I suspect, are already a month or two behind."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "May dad says she's just a crazy old drunk. Is that true?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yep, but that old gal has suffered a lot in her time. She was once a music teacher who lost her job after slapping an incorrigible child--at least that's the story she told me. Other people have told me that after she lost her job she started drinking heavily and neglected her own child, who was eventually taken away from her. Then she started drinking even more and resorting to prostitution. I once invited her to my apartment for dinner because she looked like she needed a decent meal. She didn’t touch a thing I served, and later she started asking me what I really wanted. I told her that I just wanted her to feel better, and she started weeping bitterly and insisted that I wanted something from her. She finally just went home."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter dashed over to the woman and grabbed her hand. The old woman, who had been screaming and moaning, suddenly relaxed and closed her eyes as Peter comforted her.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3imGdzr_2LmhmmGmoDYu6aKDkX9i44AXl5OFHZKB1maIAvUy7GCPeTxW46t5dFHO79RdeB3WKcw0MoMuDgjlKDj2xLI-HqZpN7_SgckzkZSwy_cztgvVX8mxeKVLxxE-uBrZrzgpfaM/s1600/chp1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW3imGdzr_2LmhmmGmoDYu6aKDkX9i44AXl5OFHZKB1maIAvUy7GCPeTxW46t5dFHO79RdeB3WKcw0MoMuDgjlKDj2xLI-HqZpN7_SgckzkZSwy_cztgvVX8mxeKVLxxE-uBrZrzgpfaM/s400/chp1.jpg" height="400" width="267" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">Vision</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing squinted, staring at Peter, and followed them over to the ambulance. Suddenly Peter beamed at Cashing. "You know, I had an idea last night. Can I tell you about it?" Peter looked over at Cashing’s apartment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Sure, come on over," Cashing motioned to his apartment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"> "You see, I’ve had other visions too," Peter mentioned when they got inside.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I should have known! Go on."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Well, once I had a vision of a golden, equal-armed cross. Then I had a vision of a golden crown on my head. Another time I had a vision of a golden plate and chalice on a brilliant white tablecloth. They all seemed to go together. When I had these visions, I felt like these things were not just for me but for everybody. What do you think they mean?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What do you think they mean? That’s what’s important," Cashing insisted.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I think they are all good things that we all have inside us," Peter said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Very good things indeed," Cashing replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why do you think everything was golden?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Well, gold, because it is incorruptible, is often a symbol of the spirit. White, by the way, not only symbolizes purity--it also suggests unity since white is a combination of all the colors."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter continued, "Last night I started imagining the people I know with a golden crown on their head, a golden cross in their heart, all seated at a table with a white tablecloth, covered with golden plates and chalices. I felt like I was helping them somehow."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing looked Peter in the eye, "Well, maybe you did help them in one way. It seems to me that you were seeing them all as magnificent spiritual beings with divine harmony in their hearts, seated at a banquet of spiritual abundance. Just looking at other people that way helps you to have more reverence for them."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter looked seriously at Cashing. "But it seemed like more than that. Like these <a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">symbols were magical</a> and were actually helping them. I don’t know how to explain it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You mean that concentrating on these symbols was actually affecting those people somehow, as if we are all connected to each other on some level?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah. Let me tell you about something else," Peter paused for a moment. "I’ve had a vision of a black cross too, a real cross, the kind you see everywhere, not an equal-armed cross."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing smiled, "You mean a Calvary cross?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, I imagined giving all of my pain and all of the bad things I’ve done to it. I could see all the blackness leaving me and going into this cross, and then I felt much better. It was like magic."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing looked surprised. "Okay, wait a second. You’re suggesting that these symbols exist in some other dimension but that we can use them here in our lives? I have to confess that I’ve never thought of using archetypes in quite that way before. In other words, the black cross exists on a different plane to take away our sin and suffering and create harmony in our lives. It would have to be the astral plane, by the way, because that is where the archetypes and symbols appear in picture form for our subconscious mind. According to our occult friends, the higher spiritual planes are formless."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter looked puzzled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, wait a minute," Cashing blurted out. "I’ll be right back." Cashing trotted to a closet in his bedroom and came back with a book. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing held up the book. "This is a picture of the Tree of Life, a very ancient glyph, or composite symbol. Legend has it that an angel gave it to humanity. Notice that in the center of the Tree there is a yellow sun, and in the center of the sun is a black Calvary cross. This central sphere with the cross is the Christ center, the center of equilibrium. I think I understand what you're saying--by God, the black cross is literally a magical symbol. If you’re right, savior figures have experienced the archetypal sacrifice to establish the black cross in the center of equilibrium, the sphere of balance, and it remains there for all of humanity. In other words, we can give our negative energy to the cross in order to re-establish balance and harmony in our lives. I had considered it as essentially a symbol of the transmutation of force into form, or vice versa, depending on which way you are travelling, up or down on the Tree. The sun is not only a symbol of life--it is a symbol of purification, the cross within the sun symbolizing the cleansing of the soul. Why, this is, at least, a wonderful idea!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Anyway I was thinking that we could use it to help other people. I don’t mean your average person who is doing all right. I mean like that old woman who might die or go crazy or something."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You mean we shouldn’t try to help a person unless the person can’t help herself?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, something like that. I mean maybe you only have the right to use it without asking if somebody is really in trouble. You might also have the right to use it without asking if somebody is going to harm you or a lot of other people, you know, someone like the landlord."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "We have to respect free will, in other words? We shouldn’t interfere with someone else’s karma unless we can keep something really terrible from happening?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, something like that."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing wiped his eyes. "You know, some people believe that interfering with another person's karma has bad consequences, even if you're trying to help that person, so we need to be careful. What do you propose that we do?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I don't know if that's true, but there is one thing that I would like to try. Maybe we could meditate together, and we could ask the Christ force to take the blackness away from the old woman. Then we could imagine the blackness leaving her body and going into the cross and her whole being filling with light. Then maybe we could do the same for the landlord."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "That is a beautiful idea. I’m willing to try it. Unfortunately, right now I have a few things to take care of. Can you come back in an hour or so?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter nodded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Great," Cashing said. "Why not try it--you know, it couldn't hoit."</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-53560264094376516952013-11-09T12:16:00.001-08:002014-12-12T10:53:54.748-08:00BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqx4UuA-GT1EQKTiLRc2Ezdi8Awkl40mOsuTq-ht0Sfv3Um5-dnpQ9vcxbbXQg1ysaIMCrMx6I1o1Hy0b27T7b2Vklr7RwVKsqfkVq9cr1j9IQ71qv2e9bU867xoR12JpZA2Ku7ybt9xQ/s1600/ridps1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqx4UuA-GT1EQKTiLRc2Ezdi8Awkl40mOsuTq-ht0Sfv3Um5-dnpQ9vcxbbXQg1ysaIMCrMx6I1o1Hy0b27T7b2Vklr7RwVKsqfkVq9cr1j9IQ71qv2e9bU867xoR12JpZA2Ku7ybt9xQ/s640/ridps1.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.childrenonthetree.blogspot.com/">Pestle on a Pounding Stone, Kings River Watershed</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER FOUR: A WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Parking in the dirt by a load of rubbish near Fancher Creek, Justin pulled up the parking brake: No one in the immediate vicinity. He grabbed the buck knife from the glove compartment, slid it onto his belt, then trotted across Watt's Valley Road, an oiled, single-lane road which snakes through one deserted Native American village site after another in the lower foothills. Before he jumped up on the rock and stepped over the barbed wire, however, he noticed Fresno faintly etched in the distance, so he quickly turned back and checked the car doors and lights again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The area safer than most city streets, he could keep hiking all the way to the Kings River if he wanted to, his path only blocked by orchards just before he got to the river. Cows might ignore him or stampede in complete terror away from him (or toward him), quail would occasionally burst out of shrubs, coyotes would pause and gaze and lope off as if hoping to be chased back to the lair. He might encounter a bobcat or a mountain lion or a rattlesnake, but with his buck knife he was ready for almost anything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Most of the paths on the bluffs converged in the floodplain of the creek, whose bed miles away had functioned as the Valley's first irrigation ditch for a farmer who lured the railroad, the catalyst of growth for Fresno, to the area. Justin chose a favorite path, noting all the pounding stones and pestles and house pits along the way that had apparently evaded the normal sight of the average trespasser, and perhaps of even the rancher, for over a century. After his first discoveries, Justin had trained himself to notice flat stones where he might find round holes filled with water or earth and grass and leaves, slightly tapered stones possibly used for grinding, and midden earth in oblong or circular indentations in the ground. These, along with the paths kept distinct by cattle and horses, were the only signs of a civilization that had flourished in the area for thousands of years, gone now over a century, in which time the city had grown one pop-n-fresh neighborhood after another, subdivisions leap-frogging toward the hills.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> It was hotter than he had expected. He had planned to hike for a mile or two in his work clothes, but after only about half a mile, he was hungry and thirsty and unusually tired, so he took a detour to his favorite pounding stone, where ten pestles still rested. As he approached the pounding stone he saw a bobcat in the distance stalking something in the grass, suddenly pouncing, then carrying a squirrel away in its teeth. After the bobcat skulked away, Justin found the site of the kill dotted by feces and stained by a streak of blood, far less gore than he had expected.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> A squirrel in the rocks was chirping loudly in fear or grief, or both, even though Justin was only a few feet away. Justin at first thought that he was only projecting human emotions onto the squirrel, but he had never before heard a squirrel make such a racket, even though it was still in danger because the bobcat, and Justin, were both in the vicinity. The squeals may have functioned as an alarm, but to Justin, after a minute, they began to resemble sounds of utter despair.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Justin sat down on the pounding stone as the squirrel's cries began to taper off. He had been unable to grieve at his own father's funeral. No tears. No moans. No outward display of emotion. He leaned against a tree and closed his eyes. In his mind's eye, he saw his father's coffin in the funeral chapel, so he cleared his mind. Having a mind clear of even the woodlands was more pleasant than he had expected. After a while a few images flickered across the screen, but he cleared everything away again by focusing on blackness, going into the gap between words, between sounds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He imagined himself climbing a tree, the leaves wet with dew like tiny stars, and golden eagles wheeling around it. As he reached the middle of the tree, he gazed at the sky and saw, not the sun, but a bright, golden, equal-armed cross hanging, completely still, in the blue. Floating at each end of the cross was an indistinct angel, each one dressed in a colored robe, one blue, one red, one yellow, and one white. He continued to stare at the cross, hoping that each angel would become clearer, and suddenly he was bathed in a warm, golden light, which felt so good that he didn't want to move. He continued to rise, nevertheless, almost against his will, as though he were floating upward, not climbing. People and cars in the Valley below moved slowly in the distance, all utterly impermanent and insignificant, as he rose closer to a brilliant light more intense than sunlight. He looked at his hands, which were empty. His entire body was empty, only transparent, crystalline light. All was emptiness except for the light, which permeated everything. At the light's edge, his mind truly became blank for a moment. He was only a spark, a point of consciousness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EdOhfLt_7JvBuJLVfwMpw-oShnHU5BkQhqMS8vOFyCCFwnr8wb3gVoYdjkIwbIB75vez-vJuM46ureJQNQ3_g9ELa09JvHRSJVsEyuI3KKbSUXZm4n53xng-Zl7CNgVqn56u6B2Pp40/s1600/pestle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4EdOhfLt_7JvBuJLVfwMpw-oShnHU5BkQhqMS8vOFyCCFwnr8wb3gVoYdjkIwbIB75vez-vJuM46ureJQNQ3_g9ELa09JvHRSJVsEyuI3KKbSUXZm4n53xng-Zl7CNgVqn56u6B2Pp40/s640/pestle.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/">Pestles Just Removed from their Mortars</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Suddenly he heard a loud shuffling sound and with a jerk came back to himself. Only a squirrel scurrying through dry leaves. He had instinctively grabbed for his buck knife, but he couldn't pull it out because it was held in its sheath by a button. Gazing at the pounding stone, he noticed that two pestles were still in the mortars, with grass growing out at the edges. The stone was silent, communicating nothing about the people who had pounded acorns there for millinia. He stepped into one of the house pits. In his mind's eye he saw a Yokut's woman, light moving over her face and shoulders, as though he were envisioning either her image reflected in a pool, or the light from a pool of water reflected on her shoulders and face. Then, adrenalin shot through him as he recognized that the image could be like the reflection of someone in water, possibly himself in another life. He felt as if something were tugging at his ankles and shins and that he could drop in a second into another order, as though through the center of the earth out to the other side, yet he felt at the same time that he was being presented with some choice, as though he were standing in the shallows of a pool, looking out toward the deep. The Yokuts often buried their dead in the earth under their houses, and he imagined his mind somehow mingling with the mind of the Yokut's woman, as if time were an ocean, as if he were somehow part of all of the energy fields of the world throughout human history and beyond.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> And it was empty. The act of putting one foot in front of another, empty. The act of thinking, empty. The city in the distance, growing like an anthill a moment before, gone in the silence a century or a millineum. Justin gazed at a baby blue eye, no longer Justin but the eternal gazing at itself, the observer and the observed and the process of observation. He was the flower and the stone and the oaks, a point of consciousness within a tapestry of infinite consciousness, and he felt the pressure of innumerable points of consciousness communicating with him in the heat in countless messages that he couldn't understand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He felt a timeless, eternal emptiness, the emptiness of form. Within seconds he again separated himself mentally from his surroundings, out of habit, carrying with him both the sense of timelessness which imbues everything in the woods and the realization that he was losing the sense of oneness. As he reached his car, he regretted that he was returning home sooner than he had planned, so he headed to an old, disintegrating road, partially on private property and partially on public property, which sloped down to Sycamore Creek.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Sliced by rivulets and broken up by roots, the road, unused for decades, sloped down half a mile to a "gauging station" by the creek, a measuring stick still cemented in the creek bed. Although it appeared that no other signs of civilization existed for miles, hidden by bushes on the other side of the creek, the remains of a stone wall still stood next to two piles of rocks, both the size of graves. A mile beyond the confluence of the two creeks, the walls of another stone house stood, the stones on top pulled down for six other piles, also the size of graves, nearby.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7cPXaa-YFIQo2jMoV9pKuGvAt3fbEsLRJcUywQyTvN0po2q5LGGgoi7SYhyphenhyphennl63TDRo4FFKp-BpUgu51i0ezf-8UN_Np4l5QbzcNpT2lDQ_B_suAZXwbBetvRRPur5ADGtMw6OA7VD4/s1600/bigpes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjp7cPXaa-YFIQo2jMoV9pKuGvAt3fbEsLRJcUywQyTvN0po2q5LGGgoi7SYhyphenhyphennl63TDRo4FFKp-BpUgu51i0ezf-8UN_Np4l5QbzcNpT2lDQ_B_suAZXwbBetvRRPur5ADGtMw6OA7VD4/s640/bigpes.jpg" height="428" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">Pestle still in Mortar</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The first time he had trespassed, Justin knew when to stray from the old road into the grass to the pounding stone on the ridge, perhaps because the faint rushing sound in the distance pulled him from the road or because he had noticed a trail etched in the grass, but because of his excursions in the foothills he had begun to believe in retrocognition. He couldn't see the past, like a truly gifted psychic, but on occasion had known with overwhelming certainty, in places that he had never been before, where he would find trails and pounding stones. Once, sitting on a pounding stone, he actually heard the laughter of women, as if the earth and the stones were all to some degree conscious and retained the memory of all that had transpired, and he could access that memory because he could tap into the timeless consciousness in moments of profound stillness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Several times during a long hike, possibly because of the heat, he had felt himself, as he sat in the shade near trails thousands of years old, part of an ocean of consciousness holding all time. He was the rock, the tree, the squirrel--his consciousness not just a wave but the ocean itself. He also extrapolated that he was also one with every human being but dismissed that thought immediately. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> When he had first started trespassing, he had dismissed the possibility of finding house pits as unlikely because at least a hundred years had passed since the tribe had occupied the area. For a long time, he had believed that resting cattle had made the indentations in the ground, but after witnessing many abandoned village sites, he finally understood, with a slight shiver, the significance of circular hollows near pounding stones.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Obviously he could not prove that where he stood uncountable generations had loved and slept and given birth and died, not after one hundred years. He couldn't prove that settlers (probably all killed around the same time) were buried under those piles of rocks unless he wanted to dig up the bones, and he lacked both the time and the stomach for that. Showing how those settlers had taken over an ancient village site would change nothing. Proving that an ancient civilization once thrived there would not keep the area from being developed. Far worse had happened there already with the help of the government: most of the tribe had been killed or driven onto a reservation where the members succumbed to alcoholism and disease and starvation, the most recent generations growing rich from the casinos. He was quite certain of one thing after finding many abandoned village sites along the creeks in the lower foothills: after a point no mercy had been shown anyone. And history, he suspected, without a major change in the human psyche, would keep repeating itself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He counted the mortars in the pounding stone again and stared above the tops of the sycamores to the ridge on the other side, squinting to see a hint of the other pounding stones across the creek, his gaze finally following a slope down to another ancient village site about a half mile away on a small hill above Sycamore Creek. He tried with his binoculars to make out the trail that led on that slope to the village site near the ruins of the stone house, again without success, but he could make out without difficulty the house being built on the ridge half a mile away.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He could still go out on a little night hike, since no one was living in the house yet, douse the wood with gasoline and light a match, and no one would know he had started the fire, in all probability. This was his window of opportunity. He decided then to hike on the trail next to the creek, past other pounding stones, climbing over barbed wire to the building site.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjO_RFa5hpw0ivuwSx4M-lymYOno1JtvhM5dEOzbPGZIi6Jx4sao_vltRjmPYx9belrDfKqQWjLKzpkONgNhMOGqEUfvKt3R5sJx8sYv66sPY0B33UARR6SAF8lqQEwZPHvrc2k-6zmg/s1600/mossy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifjO_RFa5hpw0ivuwSx4M-lymYOno1JtvhM5dEOzbPGZIi6Jx4sao_vltRjmPYx9belrDfKqQWjLKzpkONgNhMOGqEUfvKt3R5sJx8sYv66sPY0B33UARR6SAF8lqQEwZPHvrc2k-6zmg/s640/mossy.jpg" height="480" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandthrones.blogspot.com/">Pestles Uncovered from Moss and Leaves</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Standing on a slope overlooking the creek, the house was less than a mile from a hub of ancient Native American trails where a rancher had dropped blocks of salt. On a forty acre lot, the house was ostentatious, commanding a view of a large territory he had explored for years, with only cattle witnessing his intrusions. In that area alone he had found a pestle collection and three pounding stones with pestles still in the mortars. Two of the trails led over a hill down to a huge abandoned Yokuts village next to another creek several miles away. For sale signs had popped up all along the road advertisizing other forty acre lots, with wells and utilities.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Each time he had trespassed in the hills, photographing the artifacts and the rare or threatened species, he had imagined himself spearheading an effort to preserve the lower foothills, pressuring government officials to buy up development rights along a fifteen mile stretch where ancient village sites were still connected by a network of continuous trails thousands of years old. The ranchers obviously did not go beyond their own land. No one else seemed aware of the sigficance of the trails or the mortars or the pestles. (He estimated that about one out of eight pounding stones he had discovered still, unbelievably, had pestles on or near them.) A freeway extension was being constructed in the valley just over ten miles away from the main village site at the base of the hill, but along the creeks, little had changed for over one hundred years except for that house.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He sat down on a pile of wood and pulled out a box of matches from his backpack. He struck the match and let it burn down to his fingers. The house where he had grown up was still at the end of its street, nondescript, occupied by another family for many years. This mansion was being built for elites, promising seclusion and happiness for the family that would live there. Justin's family, on the other hand, had been a failed experiment. Justin was seventeen when his father died, and Justin discovered that his family members harbored little sympathy for each other. They couldn't grieve together, and soon the family dispersed. They still saw each other occasionally at Christmas.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The thought occurred to him that he was in a fire of illusion, which made him chuckle for a second as he lit another match. Little was left of what had been his family, a family that he had considered normal and well-adjusted before the day his father died. After ten or twenty or thirty thousand years of occupying the area, the tribe was totally gone. He had failed to hold most of his relationships together. He had failed to hold a job for more than five years (though that was not entirely his fault given the nature of capitalism--he was expendable like everyone else.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He wanted his life to matter, so he would have to be careful about losing himself too much in the timelessness of the woods. He let the match singe his fingertips. This mansion was the first sign of urban sprawl that in the next twenty or thirty years was going to engulf the foothills. The last traces of a whole race would be wiped out in the process, conveniently eliminating all signs of genocide committed by a system spreading into the far corners of the earth, ecocide the logical partner of genocide.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He held up the flame, hearing woodpeckers cackle and the peeps of bushtits, the air growing cool. Being an activist in the Central Valley was like stepping with a bow and arrow into a mine field to face the tanks of a well-equiped army; he would have to continue by fighting an anonymous, covert war alone until they caught up with him. He, for instance, was stuck in stupid jobs, working as a substitute teacher and also as a part-time instructor at a rural community college for fifteen years (without benefits). The vast majority of the teachers he subbed for could not write a one-page lesson plan free of grammar or punctuation errors, yet he suspected he would never be hired as a full-time teacher even if he went back to school for a credential. Anyone who attacked the system, he'd noticed, was sooner or later slapped down (usually sooner, if effective) and they were not forgotten by those in power, only by the public. A few had lost jobs, professionals had been slandered with impunity, organizations had closed down because of bogus lawsuits, one activist, a teacher, was fined and bankrupted for using his democratic right to sue the government for higher review of a local land use decision (perhaps the judge had neglected to read the constitution). He had witnessed activists threatened and blackballed by developers and government officials alike. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He felt spaced out, a little unsteady on his feet, unable to belch, with pain in his joints, all symptoms of his allergies. He had indulged in several pieces of toast (which contained gluten and corn) at breakfast and was suffering the consequences. If he ate any more gluten or corn, he would risk feeling severe muscle and joint pain, fatigue, and depression; he might have difficulty functioning at his job the next day. If he continued eating it despite the warning signs he would begin to believe he had cancer or some other terminal illness, and would feel hopeless. He would be unable to function in jail. He felt at peace in the woods; he even felt a kinship with the rocks, a kinship that he had felt with only a few human beings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He indulged again in self pity, which at least kept him from losing himself completely in the stillness. Even though the cause of his sickness was the chemical contamination of food and air and water, no one could avoid the fact that he was often fatigued, depressed, nauseated, aching, nearly always, therefore, without much energy, except sometimes in the woods where he could breath fresh air. Relationships and jobs had ended because he couldn't hold it together, not knowing from one moment to the next if he would feel too sick suddenly to function, for no reason apparent to anyone else. He sat still. His life was significant now in relation to what surrounded him, no more and no less significant than the tribe members before him, no more and no less than the buckeyes and sycamores and oaks, the bluebirds and the juncos, the rosinweed and blue curl.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Wouldn't it be nice to burn up this entire sorry civilization, he thought for just a second, every last bit of it. He should feel anger like a clean flame (he chuckled), not self-pity or even mercy, and he should let it burn out all the corrupted places, cauterizing as much of the cancer as possible, not just a little bit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He was making a speech again in his head. Sighing, he put the box of matches away and sat extinguished in the growing darkness. He envisioned a white flame at the crown of his head,the flame forming a crown at the supernal centers of his being, the centers of the spirit, the flame stretching down to his heart, then down to his groin and feet. He was on fire while everything around him was swirling, transient, empty.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Bats looped silently overhead, the sun kindling the bare branches of the oaks in the distance. The moss-covered stone, cold in the light, now seemed almost as warm as an animal in the cooling air. The buckeyes and sycamores smelled dusty and wet at the same time, the creek still gurgling, making more sense than he could ever understand and no sense at all. The first lights were appearing in the valley and the sky, one constellation on the ground for a moment appearing to reflect another in the sky. He stood up with a groan and hiked back on the trail toward his car. </span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-90520252488543577772013-10-26T15:59:00.003-07:002013-10-26T16:03:04.766-07:00PATH 32 ON THE TREE OF LIFE<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNgTZ-fHv5nq-AuBQ7yLqiN1UWOxUQ0D7MHxmNfZD4REM6LDY6AG6-nAgJfYevg18HtwHfuv8wLCxqBRLQKiaFHLA9A08_t2ahToqmk2BQIPVdIVJqW7KXd6w693kSnuG3rwgtACYURU/s1600/canal.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiNgTZ-fHv5nq-AuBQ7yLqiN1UWOxUQ0D7MHxmNfZD4REM6LDY6AG6-nAgJfYevg18HtwHfuv8wLCxqBRLQKiaFHLA9A08_t2ahToqmk2BQIPVdIVJqW7KXd6w693kSnuG3rwgtACYURU/s640/canal.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsandroots.blogspot.com/">Pounding Stone near Friant-Kern Canal</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER TWO: THE WORLD</a></span></b></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter was painting a picture of a figure eight when Chuck walked into the bedroom without knocking.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What the hell kind of crap is that?" Chuck scoffed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "It’s the mathematical symbol of infinity."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, that’s what it is. I thought you were just painting like a monkey," Chuck laughed, scratching his ribcage. "Why DO you paint, anyway?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Because I’m trying to develop myself emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, but you probably wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, C’mon, everyone knows why you paint."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why’s that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Because you’re ‘different,’" Chuck made quotation marks with his fingers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What are you trying to say?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You’re gay, obviously."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "That’s it. Get out of my room!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Make me. It’s my room too, jerk off."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter lunged at Chuck, who easily shoved him to the ground.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why don’t you develop yourself physically, for a change, so you’re not such a little girl? Act like a man instead of a sissy, and stop painting this stupid shit. Everybody thinks you’re gay, and they’re starting to wonder if I’m queer, too, because a’ you." Chuck held up a threatening fist.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter looked up with tears in his eyes. He darted out of the room, got on his bike and took off, pedaling furiously. Since it was Saturday and he had finished his chores, he headed east toward the foothills. Even though he felt tired most of the time, occasionally when he was on his bicycle, he could forget about his illness and pedal for miles. Now he was determined to keep going as far as he could, possibly never turning back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> At about two o’clock, he reached the end of the grid, where the road suddenly veers northeast and curves gently into the lower foothills. He crossed the Friant-Kern canal, which contains the water of the San Joaquin River flowing south now instead of west in its natural course, and then he stopped, watching the swallows loop above the water, in figure eights, he imagined. He took a slug of water and chewed awhile on a granola bar. He had a package of energy bars in his backpack that might last him a couple of days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> About a hundred yards from the canal, Peter noticed several large, flat stones that contained circles from which grass was growing. He got off of his bike and rolled under the barbed wire. He found a Native American village site next to the road on a slight rise above a narrow stream that emptied into a marsh next to the canal. Imagining that he was a Native American standing by the pounding stone, he gazed a long time at an egret, a white question mark reflected in the shallow water, while he listened to faint, tranquil buzzes and chirping noises. He crossed the road and climbed to the top of the rise where he found two more pounding stones. Whoever had made the road had just plowed right through the village site, probably removing pounding stones and destroying house pits which were also graves.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecjH_05NY1WUzeUVzjXuxwEAaFimLZdaQ0Ix3RZXhFQ5Wnvl6eAHOHVFLahXVzve9uxQA7s3SHlcSRNWw0ZXGb8rUeXOp_El5DUR9IdYU_wpMaO2WoczTEFTAtr1R3IuB5rSyRri384c/s1600/wilcox.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiecjH_05NY1WUzeUVzjXuxwEAaFimLZdaQ0Ix3RZXhFQ5Wnvl6eAHOHVFLahXVzve9uxQA7s3SHlcSRNWw0ZXGb8rUeXOp_El5DUR9IdYU_wpMaO2WoczTEFTAtr1R3IuB5rSyRri384c/s400/wilcox.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">Pestles in a Pounding Stone</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter had written a report about the Yokuts people after he had found several village sites one day, complete with pounding stones, pestles and house pits, while he and his father and brother were looking for a fishing hole on private property. The creek was too small for decent fishing, so they wandered around the trails in the area, scaring the cattle. Peter was the first to notice something unusual about the ridge. The earth was more disturbed, less even. Then he noticed the holes like cups in the stone and faint paths that led to indentations in the ground. They all followed a path and found another village site. His dad sneered, "This is what happens to you when you’re weak."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> It was almost three o’clock. Peter soon pedaled to a more wooded area, where hiding from passing cars would be easier. Deciding that he should try riding his mountain bike on the trail, Peter heaved his bike over sagging barbed wire and then rolled under. The main paths in the area were smooth and easy to travel. Every now and then, however, he would encounter a rock or a branch or an incline that would force him to get off of the bike and walk. Following the trail along the ridge for half a mile, he finally curved down toward the floodplain of the creek. Between two small hills, he found a pounding stone with eleven pestles on top. He got off of the bike and rested in the shade. The sun was beginning to sink toward the western horizon. He was getting very close to the moment when he would have to decide whether or not to go home.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfq9uw29u3lgfPsoIlTTpaO3IB2s3P6np-NKdE2SHZQ32m2qg6IS0vobIGXo_M8ClKG7dt3ig7lrlHSQE-ZL8llQ-oAoFA-J1tdDqSD30YcAqyauvZscIg00TJY7iapuvT-CFxN6OtYZU/s1600/world.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfq9uw29u3lgfPsoIlTTpaO3IB2s3P6np-NKdE2SHZQ32m2qg6IS0vobIGXo_M8ClKG7dt3ig7lrlHSQE-ZL8llQ-oAoFA-J1tdDqSD30YcAqyauvZscIg00TJY7iapuvT-CFxN6OtYZU/s400/world.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path32.htm">Path32</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> He took out his pack of Tarot cards and decided to examine the last one, THE WORLD. In the center of the card, a naked woman floated in what appeared to be a large mirror fringed with leaves of some kind. At the top and bottom of the mirror, a red ribbon twisted into a figure eight seemed to be holding the victory wreath together. In each corner of the card was a head: in the upper left corner the head of a man, in the upper right an eagle, in the lower left an ox, and in the lower right a lion. The previous night he had read that they represented the four elements of Air, Water, Earth, and Fire respectively. He had read also that card twenty-one, THE WORLD, represented the thirty second path--the path between the material world and the lower astral plane.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter closed his eyes and cleared his mind. The woman floating in the mirror might represent the soul in the center of the elements, spirit manifested in matter. Since the body is floating, however, Peter thought, perhaps it represents the soul detached from matter, a ghost floating in another dimension, on a different plane. She appeared to be ascending; perhaps the soul can only ascend if it has mastered existence--if, totally centered, it has mastered the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual aspects of life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter began to wonder how he could possibly master all those aspects of existence. Only the material plane seemed reflected in his life, or perhaps it was the other way around--his life only reflected the material plane. The only things that connected him with those other levels were art and meditation and now the Tarot cards. Peter looked around at the pounding stone, where the pestles seemed to have been abandoned only yesterday, then at the one strand of barbed wire still linking the leaning fence posts, then at the smog obscuring the creek in the distance, the earth tranquil and quiet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Maybe Cashing could help him understand it. Peter got back on his bicycle and pedaled home, making it just in time for bed.</span>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7107356375609243886.post-13907081193572302372013-10-23T19:27:00.000-07:002013-11-25T08:23:46.688-08:00THE GRAY FIGURE EIGHT<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs32L2-5aQgBoK6McKZ162I3lv-BHufYt8sBS84XV75vFaqYSLMdxRuUpGnAw5WY9iw_HnFiZzJHZuNSQXO7RtB6ygYHpaVtbST1hRJ2VHGun1e72E-evCo_4aSTng8QGagyV69-4WxiA/s1600/group.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="482" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs32L2-5aQgBoK6McKZ162I3lv-BHufYt8sBS84XV75vFaqYSLMdxRuUpGnAw5WY9iw_HnFiZzJHZuNSQXO7RtB6ygYHpaVtbST1hRJ2VHGun1e72E-evCo_4aSTng8QGagyV69-4WxiA/s640/group.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.roomsthatdream.blogspot.com/">Posse</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><a href="http://www.pathsonthetree.blogspot.com/">CHAPTER ONE: THE LEMNISCATE</a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter paused before the punished door of the apartment. His mom was vacuuming while his brother was watching the tube. Where was his dad, though? Peter listened a few more seconds. When he peeked through the door, his mother was vacuuming with her back to the living room, so Peter tiptoed toward the bedroom, his older brother mesmerized by the TV. Peter caught a glimpse of his dad lounging on the back porch, a beer can next to his chair, the aroma of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers wafting through the screen door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter slipped into the bedroom and closed the door as quietly as he could. Then he dropped his backpack on the floor, stretched out on his bed and emptied his mind. The day before, after meditating for over an hour, he had envisioned a gray figure eight on its side floating above his head. He had seen it and the wall and ceiling so clearly that for a second he thought he might have opened his eyes without realizing it. So he blinked, and the figure eight disappeared. Now, the dull roar of the vacuum and the jabbering of the TV destroyed Peter’s ability to slip totally into the void.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Then Peter heard his mother and brother talking. A few seconds later, his mother peered into the bedroom.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why don’t you come out here and make yourself useful?" she asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why don’t you have Chuck help you? He’s just watching TV," Peter moaned.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "At least he’s doing something. You’re just being a lazy bum. C’mon, get out of bed and help me with dinner. I need something from the store. Why don’t you ride your bike over to SAFEWAY and get a bag of salad and some ice cream?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> On his way to the grocery store, Peter stopped in front of a hole-in-the-wall bookstore called THE GOLDEN CHALICE. He immediately glimpsed a pack of Tarot cards in the store window and suddenly felt the urge to check out the store; when he got inside, he noticed his neighbor reading a book.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Hey, Mr. Cashing, how ya’ doin’?" Peter blurted out. Since Peter was normally shy, his sudden friendliness surprised both himself and Cashing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Just great, thanks. How ‘bout yourself?" Before Peter could answer, Cashing glanced at Peter and smiled, "Well, I didn’t know you were interested in esoteric philosophy."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I didn’t either. I’m just on my way to the grocery store, and I noticed that pack of cards," Peter pointed at the store window.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "So you want to tell the future, eh?" Cashing laughed in an amused, slightly ironic tone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Sure, why not! Is that really what they’re for?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "That, and much, much more, from what I understand," Cashing replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Maybe you can help me pick out a good deck," Peter blurted out.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Here’s a good one, and it’s used, so it’s half price. Only ten dollars. Better check it to make sure you’ll be playing with a full deck." Cashing opened it and looked carefully at the cards.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter appeared nonplussed. "Ten dollars. Wow, that’s a lot. I only have five. Darn it."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Don’t give up so easily. Give me your five and wait here. Let’s see if we can make a deal." Cashing ambled over to the register, unobtrusively slipping out his wallet. He pointed at Peter and laughed. The cashier put the deck in a paper sack. Cashing walked over and gave the bag to Peter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Wow, you got it. How’d ya’ manage that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’ve got friends in all the right places," Cashing laughed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Wow, really, I owe you one. Maybe you could show me how to play these cards sometime. I got to go now, though. Thanks again!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Don’t mention it, really," Cashing replied quizzically. "Have a good evening."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLyzgBTysO8nqU48Cqln9WX5gRl6J_lSP1Syb1hFJS_-Ue8YDIAjnjB4BQeCkiysYajYmUqASnGPC6DqB72ns9QDEZKIahzWYThG1k3caOMyI6gi7JihAm3DSFtUWQJJRrqFWXyukfEY/s1600/magus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirLyzgBTysO8nqU48Cqln9WX5gRl6J_lSP1Syb1hFJS_-Ue8YDIAjnjB4BQeCkiysYajYmUqASnGPC6DqB72ns9QDEZKIahzWYThG1k3caOMyI6gi7JihAm3DSFtUWQJJRrqFWXyukfEY/s400/magus.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path12.htm">Path 12</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> After dinner, Peter took a look at the cards. To his great surprise, a figure eight on its side floated above the head of a man in a card called THE MAGICIAN and above the head of a woman in a card called STRENGTH.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> It was exactly like the figure eight Peter had seen in his vision during meditation two days before. Peter could not believe his eyes. He stared at both cards a long time. "I’ve got to ask Cashing about this," he murmured to himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> The next day after school, Peter made a bee-line to Cashing’s apartment and hammered on the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Well, hello again," Cashing said.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, well, I wanted to thank you again and ask you a couple of questions, if this is a good time."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Sure. Come in. Come in."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter stepped into a dim room. As his eyes adjusted, he could tell that Cashing made minimal effort to keep his apartment tidy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Please, don’t mind the mess. Come in and sit down. Now what can I do for you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter sat on a dingy couch. "Well, you know those cards I bought--we bought--yesterday? I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about them."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Sure, I suspected that you might have questions. Fire away."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter pulled out the pack. On top were the two cards that contained the gray figure eight. "I was hoping you could tell me what these are."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Why, they’re called lemniscates. The lemniscate is the mathematical symbol of infinity. They are floating above the heads of these figures to suggest an awareness of the infinitude within. In other words, they recognize that they are eternal, spiritual beings."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter stared speechless at the cards, then at Cashing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Is something wrong?" Cashing asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter hesitated. "Well, I’m not sure I should say this, but...ah, but I was meditating a couple of days ago, and I saw the same symbol floating above my head. It was gray too and everything."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Now Cashing looked surprised. "You had a vision of a </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">lemniscate?" Cashing whispered.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBZgY5lxx9nE9ZqkK-JTRD3hUJmfpe98_MTBi4MKV0ni_g7fmQ2Xe6-GnKVVNdBxlWoGnthyS-8SU-w_B_IoFMlBHPGu50Ynz3IrQOfmaYE_y5gzspMRkcxOvaYQ4IIN3JRCoRZ6c8w4/s1600/streng.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghBZgY5lxx9nE9ZqkK-JTRD3hUJmfpe98_MTBi4MKV0ni_g7fmQ2Xe6-GnKVVNdBxlWoGnthyS-8SU-w_B_IoFMlBHPGu50Ynz3IrQOfmaYE_y5gzspMRkcxOvaYQ4IIN3JRCoRZ6c8w4/s400/streng.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/path19.htm">Path 19</a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, I guess. You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Oh, no, on the contrary. Tell me more about it. You can’t be more than sixteen. What made you start meditating?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Fifteen, actually. Well, you see, I need to rest a lot. I have this problem, food allergies. Anyway, I lie down a lot even though my parents think I should always be doing something. So I got this book on meditation because I guess I wanted to look like I was doing something when I was just lying around. Anyway, it said that a person should mentally cleanse the chakras, which are energy centers in the aura. So I did. I imagined each chakra as a turning margarita glass. Then I wiped out each one mentally with a white cloth. When I was finished, I started having visions."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Cashing tried not to look startled. "What kind of visions?" Cashing asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "You really don’t think I’m crazy?" Peter paused. Cashing shook his head. He too had experienced visions during meditation, but he didn't want to mention it just yet. Peter continued, "Well, when I was done clearing the trash out of my crown chakra, which took hours, I had a vision of a pure white, four-petaled flower, which suddenly blossomed into a brilliant white flower with lots and lots of petals. I thought it was a rose, but then I kept hearing the word ‘lotus’ in my head. I did some research the next day on the internet and discovered that the thousand-petaled lotus is associated with the crown chakra."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "My God. Have you told anyone else?" Cashing asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I told my family at dinner, and they just kinda’ looked at me strange. My brother called me gay for the thousandth time."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "He’s probably just jealous. Typical sibling rivalry," Cashing replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah, well, he likes to beat me up. I don’t know how typical that is."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Sometimes older brothers just like to beat up younger brothers. All I can say is try not to let him discourage you. This is truly remarkable. It's one of those things that force people to entertain the possibility that there is something beyond the physical realm."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "What is so strange about this, I mean the figure eight, is that I saw it in my vision several days before I actually saw it in the cards. How do you explain that?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I’m no expert, but I’ll tell you what I think. The mind, during meditation, sometimes slips into a timeless state and can see basic patterns, or archetypes. Then, through what some call synchronicity and others call coincidence, the inner vision or mental state is sometimes reflected in the physical world. Most people automatically believe that what one thinks is the result of what one experiences in the physical world. Others would say that what we feel and think ultimately manifests in the material realm, which is basically a reflection of our inner state. Others say that the mind and the physical realm, the self and the nonself, form a combined reality reflecting each other."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter looked puzzled.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Okay, maybe I’m not explaining this very well. Let me try again," Cashing paused. "Imagine that there are different dimensions of reality. There is the physical dimension that we all know and love. But imagine that there are other dimensions that we can’t perceive with our senses. Some people believe that there are at least three other planes behind physical existence. Behind the physical is the foundation of all physical manifestation, known as the astral plane. Behind the astral is the archetypal world, which contains the basic patterns for all the forms in existence. And behind the archetypal plane is the spiritual plane. The spiritual ‘world,’ so to speak, generates the basic ideas, which manifest as archetypes, which then manifest as diverse forms on the astral plane, which ultimately manifest in the physical realm as the physical objects and events that we perceive with the five senses. Are you following me so far?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Is this the asoteric philosophy you were talking about yesterday?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Esoteric, yes." Cashing smiled. "Esoteric means 'for the few' and is often associated with the word 'occult,' which means ‘hidden.’"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "So these ideas are hidden from the average person?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Exactly," Cashing replied. "I think most people would agree that there are at least four dimensions to our being. Even college professors, I think, would agree that we are physical, emotional, and mental beings. Our esoteric philosopher friends would say that there is also a spiritual dimension which sometimes intrudes in strange ways upon our sense of reality. Look at it this way. You’re an artist, right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> Peter nodded.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "When you create, you usually start with a basic inspiration, right? Then you create some kind of basic pattern, which as you develop your ideas usually turns into a more complex, concrete idea, which ultimately manifests as an image on the canvas, right?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Yeah," Peter replied.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Well, according to our friends, God works pretty much the same way, except his canvas is the world, or more precisely, the cosmos. According to our esoteric friends, we use the same process because we are made in God’s image."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "So I’m seeing basic patterns--what did you call them, arc of something...?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Archetypes. I believe you might somehow be tapping into the archetypal energy of the cosmos, possibly because as an artist you have developed your inner vision," Cashing paused. "Another explanation is that the archetypes are part of the collective subconscious, and we can access them through our own subconscious, the way one might find a channel from a lagoon out to the ocean. In any event, what you have experienced is a kind of synchronicity which cannot easily be explained or explained away. But by all means don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re crazy when you have visions. It’s really a gift, a very special gift."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "I doubt anyone else would think so. What do you think I should do?" Peter asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Like I said, I’m no expert. I think, though, that you should continue working with the Tarot cards since something or someone appears to have pointed you in that direction. Here, I'll let you play a game that I made myself called <i><a href="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/htm/throne.htm">Paths and Thrones</a></i>. It will help you learn the cards. Memorize them, visualize them, meditate on them. They are rich in symbolism, in archetypal energy, so to speak. Come back and tell me what you think, if you feel like it. I would be very interested in hearing what you have to say."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"> "Thank you," Peter said as he was leaving, sincerely grateful. "I’ll tell you everything--if anything happens."</span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<embed autostart="true" height="15" playcount="true" src="http://pathsandthrones.s3-website-us-east-1.amazonaws.com/mp3/big.mp3" type="audio/mpeg" width="145"></embed>Jim Robbinshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07950824062249227531noreply@blogger.com0