To Process
Score: One Tin Soldier (a slow, meandering version)
Listen, children, to a story
That was written long ago,
'bout a kingdom on a mountain
And the valley-folk below.
From the radio, “After 2,000 years buried within a cave in the Holy Land, the portrait was found on a lead booklet, slightly smaller than a credit card, which lay undiscovered in a cave in a remote village in Jordan overlooking the Sea of Galilee.” Lydia Warren, Mail Online, April 3, 2011
On the mountain was a treasure
Buried deep beneath the stone,
And the valley-people swore
They'd have it for their very own.
"According to sources in Saham, they were discovered five years ago after a flash flood scoured away the dusty mountain soil to reveal what looked like a large capstone. The water exposed two nooks inside the cave, containing the booklets, metal plates and scrolls."
Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgement day,
On the bloody morning after....
One tin soldier rides away.
So the people of the valley
Sent a message up the hill,
Asking for the buried treasure,
Tons of gold for which they'd kill.
Came an answer from the kingdom,
"With our brothers we will share
All the secrets of our mountain,
All the riches buried there."
Down by the water, a small boat gently knocks against a wooden dock. The water laps against stones on the edge of the mud below.
Later, as the sun begins to set, the blond haired boy sits thinking to himself, about the long summer, the girl and tiny band of pirates. A pair of crawdads scurries across the mud below.
"No one really knows how long the shoreline is. Around all the rocks, stones and sand, it keeps wrapping around and round."
His mother soon arrives to pick him up. This is the last summer we'll see him, soon he'll be moving west. Across bigger fields and longer rivers.
-------
Go ahead and hate your neighbor,
Go ahead and cheat a friend.
Do it in the name of Heaven,
You can justify it in the end.
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day,
On the bloody morning after....
One tin soldier rides away.
Now the valley cried with anger,
"Mount your horses! Draw your sword!"
And they killed the mountain-people,
So they won their just reward.
Now they stood beside the treasure,
On the mountain, dark and red.
Turned the stone and looked beneath it...
"Peace on Earth" was all it said.
To move forward:
"Saida owns and operates a haulage
business consisting of at least nine large flatbed lorries.
He is regarded in his village as a wealthy man."
Notes: The young boy today
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1TNj9UrZLzA&feature=rec-LGOUT-real_rn-5r-7-HM
Codex – Forgery discussion – misplaced Greek snippet
http://danielomcclellan.wordpress.com/2011/03/31/peter-thonemann-on-the-lead-codices/
http://hamblinofjerusalem.wordpress.com/2011/04/01/jordan-metal-plates/
Jumping on the bed downstairs. It’s in the living room. But the woman comes downstairs too soon. The smell of curry is always so strong in her upstairs apartment. One evening when I was sick, her husband came over with a spoonful of white powder.
10 years later:
Coming out of the shower, fumbling on the bedroom floor. Wet nirvana. Step father arrives home. Sneaking her home. The green Toyota. Bowie in Philadelphia on the eight-track. Next time, next life, white horses. Bliss, but always the concern about starting a family before we had a chance to get a leg up.
2 years later:
In college book store on the West Coast, my friend Richard said he’d never seen two people’s eye meet like that before. What do you want to do? she says. I’m not sure. It doesn’t feel right. Weeks later, ordering thai food in tiny compartments on an earthen plate, each with a tiny lid.
I think back to who this brown haired girl is. She’d the girl behind the fence in the back yard when I was 5 years old. Her father would whistle for her with the loudest whistle I’ve ever heard, fingers in his mouth. I’ve never been able to do that. I never really got to know her.
In the lines of unending fences that separate the Palestine communities from Israel, a boy looks out at the young girl.
“I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold.”
“Keeps me searching for the heart of gold, and I’m getting old.”
“I’ve been in my mind, it’s such a fine line.”
4/6/2011
The man is coming home from work, and this time we see that the woman is turning toward him, arms outstretched. The girl behind the fence has her arms outstretched toward the boy and she merges with the colorful fractal patterns from the woman’s dress. They come together, heart to heart.
I’ve moved to another level. The little girl behind the fence, is the image of all womanhood, arms out stretched to embrace. She becomes the cross, swirling with fractals, the essence of all womanhood, open and inviting, and I am the same cross - with my heart at the center, arms extended outward. The heart center is the open Mandelbrot, with the opening extending into the cross shape like the opening of a flower, as sexual as a Georgia O’Keefe painting. My entire body is an electrical pattern. Last year it was just my head. But this is a full body heart chakra experience, the first I’ve ever had. The firing of memories throughout my body, rethinking my perspective. All the women I’ve loved. And the cross is a level of acceptance I’ve forbid myself since I was 5. When my mom left my dad, we became cast-outs in the eyes of the church community. We found refuse in the folk music sessions in the basement of another church – an alternate service prior to the morning service.
In this cross I have acceptance. As I lie in bed, the energy coming back to normal, my body is a constellation that is the backyard of my Illinois home. My feet are north toward the girl behind the fence. One leg is bent to the neighbor girls – Kim my best friend and her younger sister Cara. Terri and Patti. My head is our small house, where my mom is, and my step mother will reside in this logic space someday on one side. Our yard has an apple tree and sand box which I imagine would be near my belly.
Refrain “Keeps me searching for a heart of gold.” I’ve found the heart of gold, it’s about loving all women-kind without guilt while respecting your mate and best friend.
4/7/2011
We each had a hard cider last night at Frontpage news. My pidas gland wasn’t happy. It jerked me out of sleep – to rollover to my back. I tried crossing my lower legs as I’d seen the sticks on the ground. Not sure which leg to put of top. Then I rollover to the right side. First time this has happened. I see an image and then I say what it is. About 5 or 6, as if I’m casually thinking. I’m seeing the thought before articulating it. The images are not colorful. This is the black and white space, mostly black with faint white form for edge. It’s not like they are coming to me randomly. It’s as if I’m thinking the thought, but seeing the thought a moment before I think it. This is truly a glimpse at my unconscious thought. The shapes are the donut shaped spiral, maybe the Mandelbrot, the face shape from the codex. I can’t remember them now. The alcohol slightly slowed down the response time of my analytical self.
I long to be able to visualize in color and motion while retaining analytical thought. The dreams we remember upon waking are reflections experience only as memories. As I drift, I’m visualizing the heart chakra and how two hearts are suddenly combined like magnets. Arms outstretched and rotating together. This is like the dance of the butterflies, high in midair, spinning and held alight by the wind.
I’m also thinking about the moment of inception. That each life form starts as a the ripple of a Mandelbrot set. And each new idea is also a growing fractal pattern.
How I want to see color. For an instance there is a green beyond the edge of the black. I can almost make out a green focal point in the center.
Distraction is an inward swirl, the twirling of a piece of hair around a girl’s finger. Focus is a ripple, radiating outward. The turning of a screwdriver. In appreciating beauty, the ripple radiates outward to a higher frequency – beauty is a duality (separating and discriminating). To understand true beauty, one most hold all things as beauty. This allows the swirl to be applied. To hold the inward and outward motion in balance, eventually turning the sphere inside out.
Shit, that’s so profound. I’ve been to my mind, it’s such a fine line. Keeps me searching (turning) for a heart of gold. Time.
Subconscious
4/8/2011 – This morning I see a “Y” upside down. Almost burning, kind of small. I’m thinking about what’s a good position. Oh! My brain is telling me to try allaying in that position. I roll on my back. Where to put my arms. Put them on my side. Now I’m seeing the top half of a fork pointed downward. What’s that about? It lasts a little longer than. Oh! This is funny. With my arms at my side I’m now the position of a fork. My subconscious took the time for me to pick up on what it was conveying. I shuffle around, but that’s the end of the images for the morning. Terri’s beside me so I don’t have room to spread my legs like a full “Y”. I suppose crossing my arms would allow me to avoid being an upside down fork.
If you're ever lost without a compass, use a cow or deer to find true north. http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2009/03/magneticcows/
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