Shanti - Chapter IV: Meeting the Prince Philosopher at 5:45 am
(Transylvania, (Year 448 A.D.) the Squirrel and the Phoenix Bird plod through a swamp. Thus they made headways, painstakingly, as though wading through a quagmire, back to the future to meet the Prince-Philosopher (New York City, year 2010, Wednesday, September 23rd)
It is now the year 448 for Shanti, but for the philosopher, it is now the year 2010, Wednesday, September 23, A.D. linear time in the History of Homo sapiens:
The two creatures, Phoenix Bird and the Brilliant Squirrel made their pathway, back to the future through a miry swamp, which is the path of forgiveness and the past of those left behind.
And how Mother Nature helped them overcome the lower appetites of wanton passions, ennui and the crocodiles of desires; and as they pursued their journeying destination, love, consciousness, sentience were at high stake in the question of comprehension.
Will the Prince be awake to receive the good tidings and the Shanti-Necklace?
Most importantly, who are our true friends?
Phoenix Bird:
"No sooner we set foot in the miry swamp than our our minds became transfixed and bewildered amidst fogs, lightning beetles, the nuisance of many a blade of grass, cruel morass and moisture impending that make the path of life scarcely meaningful: a world which now seems to be but a confusing whole to convey in any fixed goals or purpose.
I looked around me and holding my master's bushy tail tightly, the twain made head-ways through a most remarkable quagmire much engulfed in exhalations and intoxications.
I heard the constant rustle of our grueling steps as we squashed and trampled any tufts or splinters lying under the weight of our soles (the petty trifles of our lives).
Briefly, I felt a sudden sharp tug in the pit of my stomach, and my epigastric region seemed to contract as I breathed this thick air, a mysterious phenomenon which made me twist and contort my face with sundry embarrassing grimaces.
At this, my teacher was a little bit worry for my health and passing hypochondria, but the physiological effects were neither lasting, nor so acute as when I saw Lilith's wildly disheveled tresses, nor it caused me to vent my vomits in endless dyspepsias, farts and gases.
Nevertheless, from a psychological consideration, my sense-perception became somewhat dim and enervated, which overcome by the imposing force of things indiscernible, my faculties were thrown backward in a suspended relief of utter perplexity.
I tried hard to compose myself, but it was to little avail to complain or bawl hopelessly for these hurdles and thorny entangles.
Nevertheless, my iron-will prevailed against these obstacles, and I waded through this swamp with unswerving resolution; nay, dogged tenacity, diligence, probity, perspicacity and inspiration helped me more than mere brutish force.
I raised my volatile head slightly above the sad reality of these miry circumstances, and at tip-toed maneuvers, wending my ways to and fro, back and forth, the prospect of my linear voyage seemed to lead me somewhere... beyond these marshy lands.
Meanwhile, I could see that a new reality was blending and merging with another realm; for, one world was gradually blurred and effaced by the sparkling appearance of one thousand sinuous characters, a shimmering haze, lightning dots so dispersed, like glittering particles suspended in filaments of mists, or airy things tinged with the most beautiful greenish spectral colors: waves many spiraling and commingling in ways scarcely distinguishable.
Seeing that everything was changing and transfusing the contours of every shape fleeting around me, I quickly tapped my skin and limbs to convince myself that I was the same original creature, that my intrinsic substance was not yet another, that I was not subject to such phantasmagoria and illusion.
Thus, I looked down to touch my feet, shins, quills, and shanks, and thereat saw a tenderly green-light glimmering and decreasing most beautifully, like the legendary stone Bonona at midnight shining the warmth of the daylight retained —as though possessed with life beyond the organic realm manifest!
Bending down on my knees, I endeavored to further touch the bed-floor of the swamp, which perhaps due to the miraculous effect of the Shanti-necklace or other mysterious causes unknown to our sciences, a soft-lightning spectrum had just cast everything aglow, somehow warming up these dank, muddy soils, turfs and morasses to a most pleasant temperature; and from head to toe I felt a rapid-tumbling cascade of thrilling shivers along my spinal-cord, a great zeal for a barbarian zest, a cheerful-yes for a pristine life unsayable!
--Hurrah!
O what a marvel is all this airy spectrum of shimmering haze! This is sheer magic!
There are, indeed, many surprises in the womb of nature!
All on a sudden,I felt the most pleasant sensations, healing doses and exhilarating yes and nays --an indescribable effervescent well-being which is the essence of life in action; for, the endless operations of Mother Nature stirred me up to further activities, and who could resist her when she is left to the breathtaking music of ebbing forms, the fruitful web of one thousand organic strokes, the ingenuity of endless combinations, strange concoctions and compounding experiments at every turn a resolution!
Now I know that we are all part of a whole that is in constant flux, a magic world that is restless in festivities, a will-to-live impetus, which here in the woods of Shanti, it is indeed Beyond Good and Evil (F. Nietzsche)!
This is the world of creation, whence even the thrilling gloom of a delightful shade may justify a riveting jaunt into the fantastic, 'the Supernatural,' the phenomenal reality of animal magnetism!
Come on ghosts, wraiths, goblins and spooky shades, let us all revel in the ingenious mind genial!
Hither and thither, a cool iridescent light has just infused the dark-brown ground into soft emerald tones; most pleasant lightning hues which were alike peaceful and uplifting to a very high degree.
When I stood straight up on my feet to view the swamp of Shanti veiled in misty droplets suspended mid air, my horizon seemed to vary in coloration, saturation, and vital latitudes.
Indeed, depending on the angle of my perspective and the contiguity of surrounding objects, many things assumed their peculiar different forms, lively shades cast in airy molds, stupendous anvils in the inexhaustible creative powers of Mother Nature.
Thus, little by little, the former aspect of my sad existence was changing to a warmer mood, in chroma and value-range to a higher pitch felicitous --an all-encompassing transmutation-- a new glorious dawn which I keenly felt within the fabrics of mine being alive, full of vim and verve!
A new morning was dawning on the Other Side of Time, and I was so eager and curious to dispel some lingering doubts: whether the Blue Prince-Princess would be awake at such early an hour...?
Just like on a twinkle of an eye, or at the quick flight of a brilliant thought, or at that rapid flash flaring on a lightning spot, Parsifal and I, like two candle's flames flickering forth to the prospects of life, so we were treading along the edge of a most perilous passage, and I was struck by the feeling of hard textured surfaces of craggy stones, juts and bumps at every nook and cranny.
O my goodness! What is all this reality?
How life's circumstances may flip so capriciously from one side to the other! Atch!
Touching slightly the tangibility of my current milieu, I felt a hard slab adjacent to our path circumscribing my journey into narrow mindedness, blinkered perspectives and tunneled focus; and I distinctly felt the tangibility of some jagged rocks' cutting edges, a solid reality, tangential to my fidgety fingers and comprehension.
All these solid things as if a terrible world of unbelief, insensitivity and dumfounded materialism had just set limits to my sense of expansiveness, freedom, magic and spontaneity.
By heaven's sake, what happened to my lovely bosky expanses?
Fortunately, the luscious ambrosia of Aurora had drenched with loveliest dews the marked route to the upper-lands of my ever-seeking friend.
But before we reach our marked destination, the Fort Tryon Park, how many dangerous juts, jags and crags may lay ahead of us...?"
The Squirrel:
"My friend, take heart and believe, let not this precipitous escarpment detain our steps, long we have trudged our journeying experience to reach the lonely man, the Prince, with this promise-gift from Shanti.
We are now at the outskirt of the Fort Tryon Park, and a sweet glimmer of good morning's prospect may sing a new song of love. Autumnal leaves will soon strew the path of precious memories..."
Phoenix: (looking at the teacher with much gasping and sighs).
"Do you call our Transylvania-promenade a love-story?
You must be kidding your brain! Oops! I was about to roll my eyes backward to pay the Master due deference, but was soon astounded to see the shining necklace turned into white tiny Pandora-beads!
By heaven's sake!
What is all this transmutation?
What happened to the gold-shining necklace?"
Squirrel:
"This Shanti-necklace at night is pure gold if worn in a worthy neck lofty: at early morning the lovely beads glitter immaculate white like dazzling Pandora-gems; and at evening they shine like precious diamonds --lasting gems in beauty and authentic smiles!"
Phoenix:
"How about during cloudy days?
Do they shine?"
Squirrel: "In cloudy days, they glow warmhearted, orange hues like the consoling candle of patience.
But ye now go ahead of me, because much ye have sacrificed for thy master's sake, a brisk friend who, however ready, cannot fly with speedy wings like thee.
But what Hell or Devil shall deter a bold Squirrel girt in this necklace?
I know how to traverse these gulches and will climb that steep hill to reach thee at a latter point."
Phoenix:
"I shall never leave a friend like you, faithful companion of my brief existence who so often saved me from many a fierce beast, the dread of darkness and one thousand treacherous crooked ways, how much I hold you in high esteem!"
Squirrel:
"Indeed, we test who are our true friends' hands but in difficult times and needs; but there is another great friend who is waiting for us.
That mad-man ye will find in a sequestered spot, perhaps conversing with a knotted tree, a brave tree found a short distance off the wood's main grand entrance.
Go there and take notes whether He is downcast, cheerful, sedate, peevish, joyful or incredulous in endless questions brooding like a frog croaking.
Find out whether he is solicitous in searching the laughter of Aurora's generosity, or whether he has altogether abandoned the splendid, scenic paths of great wayfarers."
Phoenix:
"I know this mad-story will be hardly believed by any human being in New York City.
Perhaps I should not speak a silly word to the Prince, let alone further convince Him of intelligent awareness in certain birds melodious."
Squirrel:
"What is real or merely mental?
Are not New York City's streets, sanatoriums and hospitals packed with mad geniuses misunderstood?
Don't ye remember Franz Schubert and Henry D. Thoreau?
Sometimes, I see some great souls sauntering by the Fort Tryon Park at 6:00 am, and they take the early jaunt not with due satisfaction and placid meditations.
Our main task is to shake the inner man from the bed of unbelief and meaningless sunsets. Let us make this day worthy of the priceless tears of Shanti."
Phoenix:
"O Master! Life is indeed meaningful when there are promise-gifts in full supply, especially with a beautiful lady like Shanti; and if there is somewhere a secret scribe whom could pen down the poor soul finding her due rewards, accomplishments and trophies, then how sweet would be to describe in few lines her early humming and singing.
I saw the good lady in profile, and her far-gazed countenance could melt the stoutest valleys and hills into rivers of over-flowing mist and high-flown expectations.
O heaven's wonder! She is, verily, sheer boon of nature's coquettish winks and erratic caprices.
Those twin eyes are like portals to another paralleled universe, or like downy doves gliding along the lake-shores of serenity, peaceful sceneries for a fine soul as yet innocent and pure!
And yet, how cruel to leave some-one like that gentle soul in the oblivion of yesterday and autumnal leaves."
Squirrel:
"No time to waste. Seek the Blue Prince by the woody land of joy and frisky squirrels.
Diligently, inquire whether the Son of Adam has talent for poetry, hand-written letters and the rapture of love.
Let him prove whether he has mastered new formulas and practical methods to captivate the heart of that adorable woman.
Don't leave a jot, nor a sweet telling-yes without due pauses; carefully, construe his moving soliloquy at the lovely hill of our destination..."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Phoenix Bird Flying Above the Fort Tryon Park
Just as is attested by great sages, the Phoenix perishes and is reborn when it approaches its five-hundred year; lifelong it feeds on neither grain nor grasses, but thrives on drops of frankincense and cardamom, while nard and myrth make up its winding sheet. (Divine Comedy, Inferno XXIV, line 105)
On how the Phoenix Bird saw cool Aurora pouring forth her healing-doses, redolent of balmy fragrance and dews, the ambrosia of the Ancient Greeks, which are believed to stir up the glorious sparks of divinity in the soul.
As He searched the Blue Prince in every nook and cranny of the lovely wood, His impression of the Fort Tryon Park, experiencing a higher sense of being, a high-pitched artistic sensibility, an indescribable companionship with a larger community beyond the domain and province of reason (the Squirrel's limitation to reaching the higher realms of existence).
Love, ultra-consciousness and the sotto voce of creation and suffering moved Him pensive.
Little by little, the Lithe Bird was soon striking a chord-sympathy with some bold trees, friends of Hope and Patience, still keeping their vigils to the very wee hour: some knotted trees were waiting the gentle touch of the healing-poultice, while others were still ill-humored, nay, standing athwart the path of Forgiveness and Friendliness...
As He neared closer and closer to construe the Prince's moving soliloquy, certain stiff lines and strains seemed to amuse Him!
The Phoenix Bird: (Gazing up to heaven!
"The Squirrel had scarcely said reach the Inner Man, when I, at his behest, set my eyes up to the very Hill's Ridge, whence a downy mist aglow could be seen suspended, slowly wafting, like a genie of magic, upsurging gowns of smoky delights against the ranges of yonder bluish mountains, in stately steps eloping with her dear ethereal lover, so was departing the olden woman Aurora to celebrate her religious raptures and oblations to the gods of yore.
At this early hour (5:30 am), a vaporous stillness has rendered the acme a medieval aspect, covering the Hilltop with the sumptuous drapery of Aurora's en-Shanting mysteries of love!
Ceremoniously, I spread out my golden wings wide-open, so as to convey the other aspirations of the Soul.
When I descried the Woody Hill from the clammy banks of the Hudson River, I felt my bosom swelling with chilly thoughts of finding the Prince awake at 5:45 am!
Once again, I saw Aurora pouring forth her fresh libations profusely, and the luscious atmosphere was more glad to give aerie-rooms to pleasantest scents, the good-morning ambrosia which has such healing side-effects in my consciousness!
Shaving and swimming this air of one thousand lake-emotions, I was wholeheartedly ravished by the loveliest tints of an in-depth calmness, a refreshing tranquility, which, at first tad-sips in this lotion of strangest ethereal concoctions, my being was more and more waxing frisky, nay, intent on quaffing the whole circumference of the airy welkin of wellbeing --a faring-well with the allness immeasurable!
Frankly speaking, I wondered whether this elixir-drink could not renew my strength sevenfold, thus granting my worn-out feathers new hackles and impetus?
At any rate, a sense of purpose led me to suspect this winking inkling: that in the divine equation of this brief existence, perhaps fine rewards are in store for those souls who persevere in Love and Forgiveness...
A homeward return to an X=present line in the physics of Albert Einstein was in store for me, and I was most ready to disembark in the Portal-X of 2010, Wednesday, September 23, A.D. linear time in the History of Homo sapiens!
As I continued gliding and flapping amidst the jaw-dropped chins of hillocks awry, cliffs' ribs and other befuddled trees, a new vim for life impelled me to gauge (measure) the breath, width and latitude of ‘mine being.’
Forthwith, I propelled myself aloft, flying above the topmost crest of some groves agape, and thus unravel new views from another mystical perspective.
And behold! At every sight turning, I saw feeble purple spots galore, the interplay of pastel shadings, many hues subdued, in subtlest nuances of attraction and repulsion with darkness and the silvery gleams of the Moonlight.
Indeed, neutral tones of magic and mysteries, cast shadows that could well reciprocate either the works of darkness, or with the warm light, in her healing virtues, perhaps agree a temporary truce with the forces of the lower realm.
As this awesome, magnificent and majestic spectacle was dawning, I searched me around for other tangible meanings in the equation-question of existence.
Like a pilgrim, I was soon moved to land on some earthly spots cozier, that on nigh gliding, apace with my thoughts and reflections, I could muse my intimacy with other nearby wayfarers.
Closing my eyes briefly, so as to re-attune my understanding on the language and hieroglyphs with this mysterious Excellent Artist, I heard that piercing whizzing sound, a sostenuto zzzzzzzzz or sssssssssss, a sound of high-pitched significance: a steady melody that if inly heard in the silence of our consciousness, it may awaken a greater conviction in the Here-Now.
Like Shanti's strangeness in the incomprehensibility of her far-gazed countenance, so a fine tune melodious was finding conveyance in my gawky mandibles, which I, holding these half-opened, in new moods of well-beings and feelings, could not but tweeter forth in thanks-givings to the bulging heaven, the abode of the gods!
Fortunately, my sweet echoes struck a Minor 3rd interval on the string-filaments of some twigs and autumnal leaves, which these, likewise in fine rapports of comprehension, were further strummed farther and farther and further, harp-like, into nearby bowers and dells; forthwith, an internal ring tolled resonance with a greater fraternity with the Allness.
I Am Part of Mother Nature!
Soon a new, gentle music was caressing my auricular (ears); like Elijah in the desert of solemnest expectations, I made out distinctly that uncanny, fizzing breeze, slowly healing me deeply, —a sotto voce dolce -- a far-off, and yet near echoed awareness, sweetness that could bring the wayfarer to a standstill.
Nevertheless, moving on and on, along some delicate rifts and clammy rocks, I came across the grave aspect of some cordial groves; and to our mutual surprise and congratulation! some august trees, were frowning-on at this my early promenade!
The Groves of Oak-Trees: Frowning at my early promenade)
"Good morning wayfarer!"
Phoenix Bird:
"...This good morning rendezvous was a most welcome boon of life! I was soon striking moods and cool-feelings with the question of Love and Hope with these wonderful olden friends of perseverance.
As I touched their rugged rinds and barks, a keen sensitivity pierced me caring, that in every nook and cranny, Mother Creation was yearning for that "Healing Poultice!"
Verily! The struggle of being and suffering echoed far into the uncharted woods --so I was pondering in my heart.
Some trees where gnarled and knotted, like the fidgety fingers of St.Thomas' unbelief, or like David Hume's scepticism in the reality of Spirit Apparitions.
O incredulous minds! Don't you yearn for the Healing Mist of Hope as well, or the caring hand of that Doctor Par Excellence?
A great sympathy moved me deeply, and I pressed my wings towards my flanks, so as to say in my sensitive gesture, that tough was their vigils in futile endeavors.
But again, I turned my presto beak toward other views and spots, and forthwith was shocked by the protruding stumps of some fellows morose, naked trunks deformed and bluff boles of stubborn incredulity, how you rise up sullen and gloomy along the path of well-being and forgiveness!
Who are these lugubrious trees that thus refuse a farewell pat of friendliness?
Uncanny Errant Winds of Early Morning:
At this point, the errant winds had just started whistling amidst the melancholy sighs of some foliages, and I wondered whether I was really going linear in the Nest of Time?
Like the Highlands of Transylvania (in Europe), the Fort Tryon Park seems to bring the wayfarer into an inexplicable timelessness, a new Arcadia of untamed woods, an "insular howness" that rises safely from the advancing raids, onslaughts and chugging machines of Homo sapiens.
Little by little, I was soon approaching the straight lines and rims of a fine pavement's edge, and an exhilarating agitation overpowered my mind: I saw many lines perpendicular to some goals; others were horizontal or vertical, somehow providing the wayfarer with a sense of balance and symmetry, a "holding-firmly" continuum in this stiff Matrix of Euclid.
These curious lines gave me a propitious solid footing on the hard ground, for, in spite of the many a blurred contour, feeble shapes and fleeting shades here and there amid fogs, I was finally keeping pace with this X=Present Reality --the spatial realm of tangibility!
This narrow pathway was confined by two ever-rolling lines or slabs, fixed margins that serve as boundaries for one path running sidelong or counter the other, yet magnificently stretching and billowing on and on unto a grand Portal-Gate!
Indeed, even when I could not follow the steadiness of some fine lines --perhaps due to the intrusion of some impertinent blotches, unpredictable error or any other hindrance-- many lines, real or imaginary, seemed to run paralleled to my journey.
O mind! Where is the converging point?
Many lines all over the scene, like in Nazca's supine characters in Peru's ancient ruins, stones and remnants, I saw these friezes and gargoyles, nay, many strange circles, squares and triangles giving forms and meanings to things motley.
All these lines were contrived, squared and chiseled on the High Wall of goals, purpose, meanings and ends.
Indeed, many figures hither and thither, which I inferred —with some reservation, would eventually lead me to the interception of a human being.
When lo! At a distance of Two In Length the Size of a Tree 's Height, I discerned a feeble streak moving tangential to my bleary eyes, a blue shade strolling back and forth.
Sometimes the mysterious shade would stop motionless, but soon would rise up to brood some serious matter at hand.
Forthwith, I prepared myself to fling my pinions thither, and thus give irrefutable assurance that I was approaching the right man of my inquiry. When nigh in view, I saw the Blue Prince, a dapper man, sometimes sprawling on the ground with a mysterious sketch book, sometimes standing under the branches of a staunch tree, sometimes scanning the streaming waters of the Hudson River!
The Inner-Man seems to be rehearsing some Greek Tragedy --so I thought when I heard him expressed himself with greater vehemence...perhaps He was giving free vent to some intimate confessions.
From every perspective, He appears slightly hesitated, impatient, transfixed in scruple of doubts while patting gently a Gnarled Tree's trunk.
At intervals, he would complain the coming-delay of some Distant Friend. Very carefully, I procured a tip-toed approximation, so that in reaching a propitious nest, free from any din-interruption or any other prowling beast, I could pen down, as a most faithful scribe His reflections, the other feelings of the Human Heart in this mad man.
Like Shanti, I could hardly understand what the Prince was saying!
Prince-philosopher:(with prim manners that are fit for thinking minds)
"O Dear Tree of My Solitude! You answer me.
How many frisky squirrels have I not counted before Aurora poured out her cheers?
Have I not come to your feet with the zeal and devotion of a faithful pilgrim?
And yet, bear witness my bold friend, I neither see, nor hear any signs of my Illustrious Master anywhere near?
Where is He?
Where is that Great Squirrel who thus bloated my heart with sweetest promises?
How often I have walked miles and hills to be fed with your wonderful sermons.
O courageous friend of perseverance, my giant inspiration!
How did you endure so many an impetuous wind?
At your branching perseverance, I shall come again and again to learn new wisdom. Bold spirit, answer me.
Where is Parsifal? Where is the ever-seeking friend of my meditations, so that in seeing Him, I could also believe and embrace the good tidings of Shanti?"
"O heart! Do not wax cold to that Great Promise, but let new beams of joy bate my nightly qualms.
Sweet mist, please, quieten my mind: she, who every year gathers autumnal leaves in her lap.
If in the Wood of Patience, tingling pangs assault the Poor Soul timorous, let the Dove-Hope glide near, and thus build the cozy nest of loving endurance.
Do not let foreboding, nor uneasiness deprive Her early sweet crooning. Shall I allow my days and nights unfold sad and gloomy?
For, the Poor Soul lives today as contiguous to my heart's longing, as my sigh-and-alas to my dear consolation: as the autumnal memory of my past dearly loved ones, so are the many yesteryears buried in the crystalline lake of Her reflections.
Is there any melodious bird conveying my prayers to heaven? For all her meandering tears, Shanti will not be left behind in oblivion, nor forlorn in the Hill of Sorrow."
Phoenix: “At this his point, the Prince paused silent and most absorbed within Himself. It is now 5:50 am and the distant Friend has not, as yet, returned in view.
Between his pauses and intermissions, I released some sotto chirps and gentle warbling espressivo, so as to imitate Shanti-yes unto his ears, but the poor soul (the Prince) was little aware of me at his rear! But again, the Inner-Man resumed his thoughts with new winged words this wise saying:"
Prince: "...O Winds! Have I heard the soul's strains in this my meditation?
Nevertheless, shall not the distant friend come from beyond, keep in mind, these errant winds shall bear witness to us two: that I have dawned sound and hale, indeed, ready to come to grips with King Nihilo and Lilith.
With teeth, and nails and the sharp sword of knowledge let me quench the horror of Shanti. For her rosy cheeks, I will face any gruesome shades haunting the haze of the unknown; and later on, in her luscious kisses and hugs, I will comprehend her inmost palpitations and musing incomprehension.
Verily! An inquiring mind will never cease from seeking, but will persevere until finding what better way-equations are the more fantastic!
Today, help me weave those waving filaments of vaporous magic, entangled mysteries, the labyrinthine forms that may add to a greater wholeness in vital latitude: the other feelings of the unknown gloom delightful.
Should I remain benumbed and vapid to a silly life of drudgery?
Should I live miserable amidst machines of endless ennui?
Let the Inner-Man rise victorious from such city-vaudeville and distractions, and being freer, let him unravel the other deceptive gargoyles of existence..."
Phoenix:
"All on a sudden, a noisy rustle was heard from the moist ground, the steaming powers of exhalation and intoxication rose up in genie-filaments of turbid fogs of magic!
And lo! A frisky squirrel rummaging and musing amid the autumnal leaves. When they saw each other, the shock was mutual! and by all means, in a serious stance was the Squirrel —a standpoint that could have melted the stoutest gut!
The Prince tried hard to frighten Parsifal away to no avail! But, not yet successful in overcoming such intrepidity, the Prince was compelled to subside, thus recognizing in this remarkable rodent his outstanding ever-seeking friend. But not yet convinced of such brilliancy, forthwith addressed Him with this daunting query..."
The Prince to the Squirrel: (commanding, great authority):
" Who are you who thus come armored in white stones from the lap of night, and where do you come from?"
Squirrel:
"I am that X-glistening of thy inquiries. I come from the lab of time and nature's swamping bowels, and I would like to give thee greater brilliancy and wisdom. I have precious stones in store, plenty stones, gem-stones more lasting than Bonona at night her luster."
Prince: "Mmmm...How I know you are not my mind's figments and subterfuges deceiving me?"
Squirrel: (showing the necklace of pandora-beads)
"Should we go back to the first rudiments of being?
I come from the past to bring thee good tidings! I found a Barbarian Creature in the bloom of her beauty.
She is now a twenty-four-year smashing beauty, most willing to give herself completely to ye! But first, let us visit the other fleeting gargoyles of thy skepticism."
Prince: "My Illustrious Master, my ever seeking friend! Come nigh, that nearer I shall embrace my sweet gift-beads, for verily, love glints beyond the shimmering sparks of reason."
Squirrel (Parsifal): "So! What do ye think about this necklace of pandora-beads?"
Philosopher: "I am ecstatic! How pretty and inspiring to know these exquisite gems --however small-- once adorned the polished neck of Shanti!"
Parsifal: "Well, while girt with these tiny pearls, I had the honor to claiming princely stature. With them, I could walk the valley of shadows and death, and no evil would I fear! "
Philosopher: "Amazing! Were you not afraid of the Lion or the Snake?"
Parsifal: "Shanti told me:" 'Oh dear, be not afraid, the necklace has power to ward off evil.'
"While clad in these precious stones, my body so shone forth, it provoked the indignation of many a beast; and soon, their dark hearts contrived evil against me; for, they could not tolerate a mere little squirrel presuming high-rank with human beings.
Alas, little they knew, that I was in charge of a promise-gift to a wonderful man in the future. My good man, how much I suffered for thy sake, and the princess' tears still echo in my heart.
Would you leave the barbarian creature lost in the wood of oblivion?
Philosopher (in silence, holding the simple petal of Melusina, the humble token-reminder of the pure love of Shanti)
"Please come nigh. Do not be distrustful to my fidgety hands and incredulity. Let me hold the curious necklace, that in touching the little beads glinting, perhaps I could feel the heart and tears of that adorable woman."
Parsifal: "These precious pearls represent rare virtues, like the rising rainbow, in flowing colors their beauty displaying, they bring great promise to the beholder (Galatians 5: 22).
These gems must be won through the craggy Path of Endurance and Purification.
Unfortunately, I cannot claim this necklace, because such perfection is only vouchsafed to the most excellent of human beings.
But between man and man, woman and woman, child and child, there is such difference; but among us, the lower creatures of creation, homogeneity is more uniformed in character —alike in the species as in the genera— a brute and a chump would continue so, until at last, the yawning grave puts an end to their drudgeries.
Some people are born with the shimmering sparks of divinity, while others, for some mysterious reasons, are always bent on earthly pursuits; and others —much to my surprise, are earth-bond with the shackles of Judas the betrayer, always stooping downward, in slouching gait they sit and walk and chatter, sneer and snicker at every virtue, always striking kindred with everything botched, vulgar and uncouth.
Not so with Shanti, she is a humble woman, but her human nature glimmers with the loftiest splendor, always looking for heavenly auguries and things celestial: the meaning of existence in the ineffable hieroglyphs of that Mysterious Artist."
Philosopher: "With due respect my teacher, I do not agree with you about such generalizations. We all have the right to claiming virtues and beautiful things.
Few human beings would be so debauched as not to enjoy the glare of those exquisite pearls, let alone find delight in a landscape, a glorious sunset or a breathtaking day-break. Nevertheless, I cannot comprehend how material things not always tally for goodness and character?
But precious things could improve our human nature in the contemplation of the beautiful and the divine.
Would you appraise a nugget of gold only for its sparkling glints than for its profit? "
Parsifal: “Of course, I will stare at it for its beauty alone! But five out of six humans would look at it for its lucrative profits. Like a shining gewgaw on a swine's muzzle, so are precious gems worn by a dunce!
It is not just the gold that is beautiful in itself, but that akin eyes are necessary, to comprehend the intrinsic beauty, nay, to give it form, charm and grace in the pre-eminent hand of the fine artist!
If the gifted soul could enjoy the downy clouds, the yonder mountains' ranges and serrated ridges, the serenest lakes of her pretty face, the eddying rivers and the ineffable azure in her far-off gazes, then, I would not exchange her for any fleeting tangible thing, not even for all the gold of Constantinople, nor even for all the treasures buried in the netherworld of submerged kingdoms.
Philosopher: "I would like to have that dear creature, to possess her rosy cheeks in my bosom.
Today I woke up sound and hale, ready to seek the cheerful laughter of Aurora, to win my trophy at the steps of my master.
Lead my steps around that legendary isle, and show me the noble shapes of bygone American days.
Where is the hoary skiff (boat) that shall ferry us around the Stygian water of the Hudson River"
Parsifal: “This necklace of pandora beads is indeed beautiful, but the path to win the it is foggy, for, Mother Nature may have other illusive veils to show thee.
Be bold and follow me through this twilight of haunting ghosts and spirits seeing.
Down there, you may come across the other beasts, "ugly gargoyles of deceit," grim delusions and chimeras of thy daily angst-ridden soul, the fallacy and recurrence of one thousand errors in the madness of Homo sapiens.
Let us invest our drooping spirits with the courage of prophet Jeremiah, and comforted by the good tidings of hope and love in Shanti, allow thy sceptic eyes to view the sad future New York City's skyscrapers, luxurious pinnacles, splendid temples, grand pavilions, glistering spires, large bridges and everywhere before thy dumbfounded sight, the scattered ruins of this current civilization's hubris, the to-morrow in the unpalatable pages of History --the culminating zenith of endless efforts in the all-destructive fist of King Nihilo...
Remote-Viewing:
Meanwhile, the Phoenix Bird, endowed with the faculty of remote-viewing, sets his inner-eye to the past year 448 with Shanti.
An angel comes to console the Princess with high-winged promises, his sweet words moved the dame to jot down a short poetry!
Phoenix: “The ever-seeking Squirrel has many precious stones for the prim Philosopher, but there is One-Pearl that exceeds the glint-beauty of any precious gem —even rarer and lasting than diamonds, jasper, sapphire, chrysolite, beryl, topaz, ruby or any other pearly splendor that dazzle our mortal eyes.
While they were startled at the peculiar tiny petals of Melusina's blissful life, the words ‘beauty and innocence’ reminded me the Abduction of Psyche by Adolf W. Bouguereau, the famed French artist who could capture the soul’s most endearing expression in his splendid canvases: a fine mind in the serenest meditations with childish beauty, whence the other reflecting feelings of a blue heaven could shine the high-flown aspiration of the great soul.
It is this uncanny "no se que es" of strangest feminine reservation, the melancholy visage of struggle and mortality, which in certain fine countenances, may convey both weakness and hardy endurance in heroic human frailty, that brave vulnerability —to know herself such destitute a princess in the woods of Transylvania (448 A.D.).
With my internal eye (remote viewing), I could see the Poor Soul Shanti a little tad sad and weeping, because her lonely day had been cast in bleak-colored forebodings; a detached resignation to the many riddles of life seems to hold her downcast, and she was yearning for a consoling sign, a goodly bird soaring in the clouds of timelessness, that her life-prospect was under the caring-hand of a loving god.
While glancing at her grove-ringed dwelling place, I also saw an invisible beautiful angel at her rear, but he stayed his flying feet behind a lovely tree's trunk unseen; and from there, the luminous being issued this awesome message to her ears:
Angel to Shanti:
"To you, great spirit, breath of life, whose journey may look forward to Eternity. I know your tenderness and fidelity, and how through patience you have perfected your human language in sealed lips of silence.
How hard it is for the poor child to remain faithful to those high-flown dreams. I truly long to see your life with heavenly-invested far-off gazes; and through those crystal eyes, a glassy mirror may reflect the very essence of your boundless being: concealed expression of the one who feels like an angel, and yet so human and vulnerable to things sublime beyond your mortal ken: hidden feelings of the soul who weeping and smiling went on learning the wordless language.
Please, keep quiet, I know your restlessness, and how often you wanted to say something when your god remains in silence:
Sweet conversation of those twin eyes, when looking at each other, joy and tears may share in equal measure, the secrecy of fragile humanity, indeed, veiled in mortal flesh and bones.
Please I long to hear your sweet singing in new tellings, nay, let them speak your secret promenades in this forgotten wood of hope and love.
Oh pretty face! reveal your innermost self, tell us the story, the first glimpse, the brief impression in that lake of your autumnal meditations.
In those living features, the most sublime hieroglyphs, characters of your pure nature, the grammar of your true essence, the sweet-tellings are spelled with the fingerprints of the most intimate scribe, whose prophecies rarely fail to fulfill your curiosity, a luminous destination...
You shall see the Blue Prince, and He will tour you through fantastic Agharti, a place of magic and new en-chanting mysteries, the underworld kingdom which holds new awesome feelings to your humming delight.
Finally, I shall remind you of your celestial origin. High above the eternal spheres, always shining, announce the starry path you should follow.
Can you believe you are divine and eternal?
Will annihilation of your physical body destroy you?
For how long will you dwell in that valley of unbelief?
Wake up!
You are more than waste matter and energy in purposeless existence, more beautiful than the shining glare of rarest gems, more sensible than any golden nuggets of silly tangibility.
Spirit you are! and the high-lighted path is beyond time and space. Indeed you are a goddess destined to the arching heaven, but in the meantime, thou shall perfect thyself in this lower realm of thorns and thistles and snakes..."
Phoenix: "Meanwhile, Shanti, with her forefinger, kneels on her knees, to jot down this most lovey poetry on the muddy ground:
Eye Would Like To Speak To Eye But I Just Look
Shanti: “Dear angel, let the door of my heart be opened to Him, but in placid silence for ears could hear us, and the spoken word could interrupt our sweet conversation.
Talk to me and I shall listen to you with my heart's yearnings; tell me, and I will have delight in thy tellings.
Please, don't ask me, for what I am, you are, what I know, He knows, and what I dream He just wishfully dreams.
Just keep on looking at me, and if you wish to weep, then let us weep and share every single tear with joy and happiness, because we love each other ---in the awesome mirror of our souls' clouds-embosomed lakes!"
~ Continue Chapter V:
www.eddiebeato.com/shanti-chapter-v--speaking-to-the-dead-by-the-hudson-river.html
It is now the year 448 for Shanti, but for the philosopher, it is now the year 2010, Wednesday, September 23, A.D. linear time in the History of Homo sapiens:
The two creatures, Phoenix Bird and the Brilliant Squirrel made their pathway, back to the future through a miry swamp, which is the path of forgiveness and the past of those left behind.
And how Mother Nature helped them overcome the lower appetites of wanton passions, ennui and the crocodiles of desires; and as they pursued their journeying destination, love, consciousness, sentience were at high stake in the question of comprehension.
Will the Prince be awake to receive the good tidings and the Shanti-Necklace?
Most importantly, who are our true friends?
Phoenix Bird:
"No sooner we set foot in the miry swamp than our our minds became transfixed and bewildered amidst fogs, lightning beetles, the nuisance of many a blade of grass, cruel morass and moisture impending that make the path of life scarcely meaningful: a world which now seems to be but a confusing whole to convey in any fixed goals or purpose.
I looked around me and holding my master's bushy tail tightly, the twain made head-ways through a most remarkable quagmire much engulfed in exhalations and intoxications.
I heard the constant rustle of our grueling steps as we squashed and trampled any tufts or splinters lying under the weight of our soles (the petty trifles of our lives).
Briefly, I felt a sudden sharp tug in the pit of my stomach, and my epigastric region seemed to contract as I breathed this thick air, a mysterious phenomenon which made me twist and contort my face with sundry embarrassing grimaces.
At this, my teacher was a little bit worry for my health and passing hypochondria, but the physiological effects were neither lasting, nor so acute as when I saw Lilith's wildly disheveled tresses, nor it caused me to vent my vomits in endless dyspepsias, farts and gases.
Nevertheless, from a psychological consideration, my sense-perception became somewhat dim and enervated, which overcome by the imposing force of things indiscernible, my faculties were thrown backward in a suspended relief of utter perplexity.
I tried hard to compose myself, but it was to little avail to complain or bawl hopelessly for these hurdles and thorny entangles.
Nevertheless, my iron-will prevailed against these obstacles, and I waded through this swamp with unswerving resolution; nay, dogged tenacity, diligence, probity, perspicacity and inspiration helped me more than mere brutish force.
I raised my volatile head slightly above the sad reality of these miry circumstances, and at tip-toed maneuvers, wending my ways to and fro, back and forth, the prospect of my linear voyage seemed to lead me somewhere... beyond these marshy lands.
Meanwhile, I could see that a new reality was blending and merging with another realm; for, one world was gradually blurred and effaced by the sparkling appearance of one thousand sinuous characters, a shimmering haze, lightning dots so dispersed, like glittering particles suspended in filaments of mists, or airy things tinged with the most beautiful greenish spectral colors: waves many spiraling and commingling in ways scarcely distinguishable.
Seeing that everything was changing and transfusing the contours of every shape fleeting around me, I quickly tapped my skin and limbs to convince myself that I was the same original creature, that my intrinsic substance was not yet another, that I was not subject to such phantasmagoria and illusion.
Thus, I looked down to touch my feet, shins, quills, and shanks, and thereat saw a tenderly green-light glimmering and decreasing most beautifully, like the legendary stone Bonona at midnight shining the warmth of the daylight retained —as though possessed with life beyond the organic realm manifest!
Bending down on my knees, I endeavored to further touch the bed-floor of the swamp, which perhaps due to the miraculous effect of the Shanti-necklace or other mysterious causes unknown to our sciences, a soft-lightning spectrum had just cast everything aglow, somehow warming up these dank, muddy soils, turfs and morasses to a most pleasant temperature; and from head to toe I felt a rapid-tumbling cascade of thrilling shivers along my spinal-cord, a great zeal for a barbarian zest, a cheerful-yes for a pristine life unsayable!
--Hurrah!
O what a marvel is all this airy spectrum of shimmering haze! This is sheer magic!
There are, indeed, many surprises in the womb of nature!
All on a sudden,I felt the most pleasant sensations, healing doses and exhilarating yes and nays --an indescribable effervescent well-being which is the essence of life in action; for, the endless operations of Mother Nature stirred me up to further activities, and who could resist her when she is left to the breathtaking music of ebbing forms, the fruitful web of one thousand organic strokes, the ingenuity of endless combinations, strange concoctions and compounding experiments at every turn a resolution!
Now I know that we are all part of a whole that is in constant flux, a magic world that is restless in festivities, a will-to-live impetus, which here in the woods of Shanti, it is indeed Beyond Good and Evil (F. Nietzsche)!
This is the world of creation, whence even the thrilling gloom of a delightful shade may justify a riveting jaunt into the fantastic, 'the Supernatural,' the phenomenal reality of animal magnetism!
Come on ghosts, wraiths, goblins and spooky shades, let us all revel in the ingenious mind genial!
Hither and thither, a cool iridescent light has just infused the dark-brown ground into soft emerald tones; most pleasant lightning hues which were alike peaceful and uplifting to a very high degree.
When I stood straight up on my feet to view the swamp of Shanti veiled in misty droplets suspended mid air, my horizon seemed to vary in coloration, saturation, and vital latitudes.
Indeed, depending on the angle of my perspective and the contiguity of surrounding objects, many things assumed their peculiar different forms, lively shades cast in airy molds, stupendous anvils in the inexhaustible creative powers of Mother Nature.
Thus, little by little, the former aspect of my sad existence was changing to a warmer mood, in chroma and value-range to a higher pitch felicitous --an all-encompassing transmutation-- a new glorious dawn which I keenly felt within the fabrics of mine being alive, full of vim and verve!
A new morning was dawning on the Other Side of Time, and I was so eager and curious to dispel some lingering doubts: whether the Blue Prince-Princess would be awake at such early an hour...?
Just like on a twinkle of an eye, or at the quick flight of a brilliant thought, or at that rapid flash flaring on a lightning spot, Parsifal and I, like two candle's flames flickering forth to the prospects of life, so we were treading along the edge of a most perilous passage, and I was struck by the feeling of hard textured surfaces of craggy stones, juts and bumps at every nook and cranny.
O my goodness! What is all this reality?
How life's circumstances may flip so capriciously from one side to the other! Atch!
Touching slightly the tangibility of my current milieu, I felt a hard slab adjacent to our path circumscribing my journey into narrow mindedness, blinkered perspectives and tunneled focus; and I distinctly felt the tangibility of some jagged rocks' cutting edges, a solid reality, tangential to my fidgety fingers and comprehension.
All these solid things as if a terrible world of unbelief, insensitivity and dumfounded materialism had just set limits to my sense of expansiveness, freedom, magic and spontaneity.
By heaven's sake, what happened to my lovely bosky expanses?
Fortunately, the luscious ambrosia of Aurora had drenched with loveliest dews the marked route to the upper-lands of my ever-seeking friend.
But before we reach our marked destination, the Fort Tryon Park, how many dangerous juts, jags and crags may lay ahead of us...?"
The Squirrel:
"My friend, take heart and believe, let not this precipitous escarpment detain our steps, long we have trudged our journeying experience to reach the lonely man, the Prince, with this promise-gift from Shanti.
We are now at the outskirt of the Fort Tryon Park, and a sweet glimmer of good morning's prospect may sing a new song of love. Autumnal leaves will soon strew the path of precious memories..."
Phoenix: (looking at the teacher with much gasping and sighs).
"Do you call our Transylvania-promenade a love-story?
You must be kidding your brain! Oops! I was about to roll my eyes backward to pay the Master due deference, but was soon astounded to see the shining necklace turned into white tiny Pandora-beads!
By heaven's sake!
What is all this transmutation?
What happened to the gold-shining necklace?"
Squirrel:
"This Shanti-necklace at night is pure gold if worn in a worthy neck lofty: at early morning the lovely beads glitter immaculate white like dazzling Pandora-gems; and at evening they shine like precious diamonds --lasting gems in beauty and authentic smiles!"
Phoenix:
"How about during cloudy days?
Do they shine?"
Squirrel: "In cloudy days, they glow warmhearted, orange hues like the consoling candle of patience.
But ye now go ahead of me, because much ye have sacrificed for thy master's sake, a brisk friend who, however ready, cannot fly with speedy wings like thee.
But what Hell or Devil shall deter a bold Squirrel girt in this necklace?
I know how to traverse these gulches and will climb that steep hill to reach thee at a latter point."
Phoenix:
"I shall never leave a friend like you, faithful companion of my brief existence who so often saved me from many a fierce beast, the dread of darkness and one thousand treacherous crooked ways, how much I hold you in high esteem!"
Squirrel:
"Indeed, we test who are our true friends' hands but in difficult times and needs; but there is another great friend who is waiting for us.
That mad-man ye will find in a sequestered spot, perhaps conversing with a knotted tree, a brave tree found a short distance off the wood's main grand entrance.
Go there and take notes whether He is downcast, cheerful, sedate, peevish, joyful or incredulous in endless questions brooding like a frog croaking.
Find out whether he is solicitous in searching the laughter of Aurora's generosity, or whether he has altogether abandoned the splendid, scenic paths of great wayfarers."
Phoenix:
"I know this mad-story will be hardly believed by any human being in New York City.
Perhaps I should not speak a silly word to the Prince, let alone further convince Him of intelligent awareness in certain birds melodious."
Squirrel:
"What is real or merely mental?
Are not New York City's streets, sanatoriums and hospitals packed with mad geniuses misunderstood?
Don't ye remember Franz Schubert and Henry D. Thoreau?
Sometimes, I see some great souls sauntering by the Fort Tryon Park at 6:00 am, and they take the early jaunt not with due satisfaction and placid meditations.
Our main task is to shake the inner man from the bed of unbelief and meaningless sunsets. Let us make this day worthy of the priceless tears of Shanti."
Phoenix:
"O Master! Life is indeed meaningful when there are promise-gifts in full supply, especially with a beautiful lady like Shanti; and if there is somewhere a secret scribe whom could pen down the poor soul finding her due rewards, accomplishments and trophies, then how sweet would be to describe in few lines her early humming and singing.
I saw the good lady in profile, and her far-gazed countenance could melt the stoutest valleys and hills into rivers of over-flowing mist and high-flown expectations.
O heaven's wonder! She is, verily, sheer boon of nature's coquettish winks and erratic caprices.
Those twin eyes are like portals to another paralleled universe, or like downy doves gliding along the lake-shores of serenity, peaceful sceneries for a fine soul as yet innocent and pure!
And yet, how cruel to leave some-one like that gentle soul in the oblivion of yesterday and autumnal leaves."
Squirrel:
"No time to waste. Seek the Blue Prince by the woody land of joy and frisky squirrels.
Diligently, inquire whether the Son of Adam has talent for poetry, hand-written letters and the rapture of love.
Let him prove whether he has mastered new formulas and practical methods to captivate the heart of that adorable woman.
Don't leave a jot, nor a sweet telling-yes without due pauses; carefully, construe his moving soliloquy at the lovely hill of our destination..."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Phoenix Bird Flying Above the Fort Tryon Park
Just as is attested by great sages, the Phoenix perishes and is reborn when it approaches its five-hundred year; lifelong it feeds on neither grain nor grasses, but thrives on drops of frankincense and cardamom, while nard and myrth make up its winding sheet. (Divine Comedy, Inferno XXIV, line 105)
On how the Phoenix Bird saw cool Aurora pouring forth her healing-doses, redolent of balmy fragrance and dews, the ambrosia of the Ancient Greeks, which are believed to stir up the glorious sparks of divinity in the soul.
As He searched the Blue Prince in every nook and cranny of the lovely wood, His impression of the Fort Tryon Park, experiencing a higher sense of being, a high-pitched artistic sensibility, an indescribable companionship with a larger community beyond the domain and province of reason (the Squirrel's limitation to reaching the higher realms of existence).
Love, ultra-consciousness and the sotto voce of creation and suffering moved Him pensive.
Little by little, the Lithe Bird was soon striking a chord-sympathy with some bold trees, friends of Hope and Patience, still keeping their vigils to the very wee hour: some knotted trees were waiting the gentle touch of the healing-poultice, while others were still ill-humored, nay, standing athwart the path of Forgiveness and Friendliness...
As He neared closer and closer to construe the Prince's moving soliloquy, certain stiff lines and strains seemed to amuse Him!
The Phoenix Bird: (Gazing up to heaven!
"The Squirrel had scarcely said reach the Inner Man, when I, at his behest, set my eyes up to the very Hill's Ridge, whence a downy mist aglow could be seen suspended, slowly wafting, like a genie of magic, upsurging gowns of smoky delights against the ranges of yonder bluish mountains, in stately steps eloping with her dear ethereal lover, so was departing the olden woman Aurora to celebrate her religious raptures and oblations to the gods of yore.
At this early hour (5:30 am), a vaporous stillness has rendered the acme a medieval aspect, covering the Hilltop with the sumptuous drapery of Aurora's en-Shanting mysteries of love!
Ceremoniously, I spread out my golden wings wide-open, so as to convey the other aspirations of the Soul.
When I descried the Woody Hill from the clammy banks of the Hudson River, I felt my bosom swelling with chilly thoughts of finding the Prince awake at 5:45 am!
Once again, I saw Aurora pouring forth her fresh libations profusely, and the luscious atmosphere was more glad to give aerie-rooms to pleasantest scents, the good-morning ambrosia which has such healing side-effects in my consciousness!
Shaving and swimming this air of one thousand lake-emotions, I was wholeheartedly ravished by the loveliest tints of an in-depth calmness, a refreshing tranquility, which, at first tad-sips in this lotion of strangest ethereal concoctions, my being was more and more waxing frisky, nay, intent on quaffing the whole circumference of the airy welkin of wellbeing --a faring-well with the allness immeasurable!
Frankly speaking, I wondered whether this elixir-drink could not renew my strength sevenfold, thus granting my worn-out feathers new hackles and impetus?
At any rate, a sense of purpose led me to suspect this winking inkling: that in the divine equation of this brief existence, perhaps fine rewards are in store for those souls who persevere in Love and Forgiveness...
A homeward return to an X=present line in the physics of Albert Einstein was in store for me, and I was most ready to disembark in the Portal-X of 2010, Wednesday, September 23, A.D. linear time in the History of Homo sapiens!
As I continued gliding and flapping amidst the jaw-dropped chins of hillocks awry, cliffs' ribs and other befuddled trees, a new vim for life impelled me to gauge (measure) the breath, width and latitude of ‘mine being.’
Forthwith, I propelled myself aloft, flying above the topmost crest of some groves agape, and thus unravel new views from another mystical perspective.
And behold! At every sight turning, I saw feeble purple spots galore, the interplay of pastel shadings, many hues subdued, in subtlest nuances of attraction and repulsion with darkness and the silvery gleams of the Moonlight.
Indeed, neutral tones of magic and mysteries, cast shadows that could well reciprocate either the works of darkness, or with the warm light, in her healing virtues, perhaps agree a temporary truce with the forces of the lower realm.
As this awesome, magnificent and majestic spectacle was dawning, I searched me around for other tangible meanings in the equation-question of existence.
Like a pilgrim, I was soon moved to land on some earthly spots cozier, that on nigh gliding, apace with my thoughts and reflections, I could muse my intimacy with other nearby wayfarers.
Closing my eyes briefly, so as to re-attune my understanding on the language and hieroglyphs with this mysterious Excellent Artist, I heard that piercing whizzing sound, a sostenuto zzzzzzzzz or sssssssssss, a sound of high-pitched significance: a steady melody that if inly heard in the silence of our consciousness, it may awaken a greater conviction in the Here-Now.
Like Shanti's strangeness in the incomprehensibility of her far-gazed countenance, so a fine tune melodious was finding conveyance in my gawky mandibles, which I, holding these half-opened, in new moods of well-beings and feelings, could not but tweeter forth in thanks-givings to the bulging heaven, the abode of the gods!
Fortunately, my sweet echoes struck a Minor 3rd interval on the string-filaments of some twigs and autumnal leaves, which these, likewise in fine rapports of comprehension, were further strummed farther and farther and further, harp-like, into nearby bowers and dells; forthwith, an internal ring tolled resonance with a greater fraternity with the Allness.
I Am Part of Mother Nature!
Soon a new, gentle music was caressing my auricular (ears); like Elijah in the desert of solemnest expectations, I made out distinctly that uncanny, fizzing breeze, slowly healing me deeply, —a sotto voce dolce -- a far-off, and yet near echoed awareness, sweetness that could bring the wayfarer to a standstill.
Nevertheless, moving on and on, along some delicate rifts and clammy rocks, I came across the grave aspect of some cordial groves; and to our mutual surprise and congratulation! some august trees, were frowning-on at this my early promenade!
The Groves of Oak-Trees: Frowning at my early promenade)
"Good morning wayfarer!"
Phoenix Bird:
"...This good morning rendezvous was a most welcome boon of life! I was soon striking moods and cool-feelings with the question of Love and Hope with these wonderful olden friends of perseverance.
As I touched their rugged rinds and barks, a keen sensitivity pierced me caring, that in every nook and cranny, Mother Creation was yearning for that "Healing Poultice!"
Verily! The struggle of being and suffering echoed far into the uncharted woods --so I was pondering in my heart.
Some trees where gnarled and knotted, like the fidgety fingers of St.Thomas' unbelief, or like David Hume's scepticism in the reality of Spirit Apparitions.
O incredulous minds! Don't you yearn for the Healing Mist of Hope as well, or the caring hand of that Doctor Par Excellence?
A great sympathy moved me deeply, and I pressed my wings towards my flanks, so as to say in my sensitive gesture, that tough was their vigils in futile endeavors.
But again, I turned my presto beak toward other views and spots, and forthwith was shocked by the protruding stumps of some fellows morose, naked trunks deformed and bluff boles of stubborn incredulity, how you rise up sullen and gloomy along the path of well-being and forgiveness!
Who are these lugubrious trees that thus refuse a farewell pat of friendliness?
Uncanny Errant Winds of Early Morning:
At this point, the errant winds had just started whistling amidst the melancholy sighs of some foliages, and I wondered whether I was really going linear in the Nest of Time?
Like the Highlands of Transylvania (in Europe), the Fort Tryon Park seems to bring the wayfarer into an inexplicable timelessness, a new Arcadia of untamed woods, an "insular howness" that rises safely from the advancing raids, onslaughts and chugging machines of Homo sapiens.
Little by little, I was soon approaching the straight lines and rims of a fine pavement's edge, and an exhilarating agitation overpowered my mind: I saw many lines perpendicular to some goals; others were horizontal or vertical, somehow providing the wayfarer with a sense of balance and symmetry, a "holding-firmly" continuum in this stiff Matrix of Euclid.
These curious lines gave me a propitious solid footing on the hard ground, for, in spite of the many a blurred contour, feeble shapes and fleeting shades here and there amid fogs, I was finally keeping pace with this X=Present Reality --the spatial realm of tangibility!
This narrow pathway was confined by two ever-rolling lines or slabs, fixed margins that serve as boundaries for one path running sidelong or counter the other, yet magnificently stretching and billowing on and on unto a grand Portal-Gate!
Indeed, even when I could not follow the steadiness of some fine lines --perhaps due to the intrusion of some impertinent blotches, unpredictable error or any other hindrance-- many lines, real or imaginary, seemed to run paralleled to my journey.
O mind! Where is the converging point?
Many lines all over the scene, like in Nazca's supine characters in Peru's ancient ruins, stones and remnants, I saw these friezes and gargoyles, nay, many strange circles, squares and triangles giving forms and meanings to things motley.
All these lines were contrived, squared and chiseled on the High Wall of goals, purpose, meanings and ends.
Indeed, many figures hither and thither, which I inferred —with some reservation, would eventually lead me to the interception of a human being.
When lo! At a distance of Two In Length the Size of a Tree 's Height, I discerned a feeble streak moving tangential to my bleary eyes, a blue shade strolling back and forth.
Sometimes the mysterious shade would stop motionless, but soon would rise up to brood some serious matter at hand.
Forthwith, I prepared myself to fling my pinions thither, and thus give irrefutable assurance that I was approaching the right man of my inquiry. When nigh in view, I saw the Blue Prince, a dapper man, sometimes sprawling on the ground with a mysterious sketch book, sometimes standing under the branches of a staunch tree, sometimes scanning the streaming waters of the Hudson River!
The Inner-Man seems to be rehearsing some Greek Tragedy --so I thought when I heard him expressed himself with greater vehemence...perhaps He was giving free vent to some intimate confessions.
From every perspective, He appears slightly hesitated, impatient, transfixed in scruple of doubts while patting gently a Gnarled Tree's trunk.
At intervals, he would complain the coming-delay of some Distant Friend. Very carefully, I procured a tip-toed approximation, so that in reaching a propitious nest, free from any din-interruption or any other prowling beast, I could pen down, as a most faithful scribe His reflections, the other feelings of the Human Heart in this mad man.
Like Shanti, I could hardly understand what the Prince was saying!
Prince-philosopher:(with prim manners that are fit for thinking minds)
"O Dear Tree of My Solitude! You answer me.
How many frisky squirrels have I not counted before Aurora poured out her cheers?
Have I not come to your feet with the zeal and devotion of a faithful pilgrim?
And yet, bear witness my bold friend, I neither see, nor hear any signs of my Illustrious Master anywhere near?
Where is He?
Where is that Great Squirrel who thus bloated my heart with sweetest promises?
How often I have walked miles and hills to be fed with your wonderful sermons.
O courageous friend of perseverance, my giant inspiration!
How did you endure so many an impetuous wind?
At your branching perseverance, I shall come again and again to learn new wisdom. Bold spirit, answer me.
Where is Parsifal? Where is the ever-seeking friend of my meditations, so that in seeing Him, I could also believe and embrace the good tidings of Shanti?"
"O heart! Do not wax cold to that Great Promise, but let new beams of joy bate my nightly qualms.
Sweet mist, please, quieten my mind: she, who every year gathers autumnal leaves in her lap.
If in the Wood of Patience, tingling pangs assault the Poor Soul timorous, let the Dove-Hope glide near, and thus build the cozy nest of loving endurance.
Do not let foreboding, nor uneasiness deprive Her early sweet crooning. Shall I allow my days and nights unfold sad and gloomy?
For, the Poor Soul lives today as contiguous to my heart's longing, as my sigh-and-alas to my dear consolation: as the autumnal memory of my past dearly loved ones, so are the many yesteryears buried in the crystalline lake of Her reflections.
Is there any melodious bird conveying my prayers to heaven? For all her meandering tears, Shanti will not be left behind in oblivion, nor forlorn in the Hill of Sorrow."
Phoenix: “At this his point, the Prince paused silent and most absorbed within Himself. It is now 5:50 am and the distant Friend has not, as yet, returned in view.
Between his pauses and intermissions, I released some sotto chirps and gentle warbling espressivo, so as to imitate Shanti-yes unto his ears, but the poor soul (the Prince) was little aware of me at his rear! But again, the Inner-Man resumed his thoughts with new winged words this wise saying:"
Prince: "...O Winds! Have I heard the soul's strains in this my meditation?
Nevertheless, shall not the distant friend come from beyond, keep in mind, these errant winds shall bear witness to us two: that I have dawned sound and hale, indeed, ready to come to grips with King Nihilo and Lilith.
With teeth, and nails and the sharp sword of knowledge let me quench the horror of Shanti. For her rosy cheeks, I will face any gruesome shades haunting the haze of the unknown; and later on, in her luscious kisses and hugs, I will comprehend her inmost palpitations and musing incomprehension.
Verily! An inquiring mind will never cease from seeking, but will persevere until finding what better way-equations are the more fantastic!
Today, help me weave those waving filaments of vaporous magic, entangled mysteries, the labyrinthine forms that may add to a greater wholeness in vital latitude: the other feelings of the unknown gloom delightful.
Should I remain benumbed and vapid to a silly life of drudgery?
Should I live miserable amidst machines of endless ennui?
Let the Inner-Man rise victorious from such city-vaudeville and distractions, and being freer, let him unravel the other deceptive gargoyles of existence..."
Phoenix:
"All on a sudden, a noisy rustle was heard from the moist ground, the steaming powers of exhalation and intoxication rose up in genie-filaments of turbid fogs of magic!
And lo! A frisky squirrel rummaging and musing amid the autumnal leaves. When they saw each other, the shock was mutual! and by all means, in a serious stance was the Squirrel —a standpoint that could have melted the stoutest gut!
The Prince tried hard to frighten Parsifal away to no avail! But, not yet successful in overcoming such intrepidity, the Prince was compelled to subside, thus recognizing in this remarkable rodent his outstanding ever-seeking friend. But not yet convinced of such brilliancy, forthwith addressed Him with this daunting query..."
The Prince to the Squirrel: (commanding, great authority):
" Who are you who thus come armored in white stones from the lap of night, and where do you come from?"
Squirrel:
"I am that X-glistening of thy inquiries. I come from the lab of time and nature's swamping bowels, and I would like to give thee greater brilliancy and wisdom. I have precious stones in store, plenty stones, gem-stones more lasting than Bonona at night her luster."
Prince: "Mmmm...How I know you are not my mind's figments and subterfuges deceiving me?"
Squirrel: (showing the necklace of pandora-beads)
"Should we go back to the first rudiments of being?
I come from the past to bring thee good tidings! I found a Barbarian Creature in the bloom of her beauty.
She is now a twenty-four-year smashing beauty, most willing to give herself completely to ye! But first, let us visit the other fleeting gargoyles of thy skepticism."
Prince: "My Illustrious Master, my ever seeking friend! Come nigh, that nearer I shall embrace my sweet gift-beads, for verily, love glints beyond the shimmering sparks of reason."
Squirrel (Parsifal): "So! What do ye think about this necklace of pandora-beads?"
Philosopher: "I am ecstatic! How pretty and inspiring to know these exquisite gems --however small-- once adorned the polished neck of Shanti!"
Parsifal: "Well, while girt with these tiny pearls, I had the honor to claiming princely stature. With them, I could walk the valley of shadows and death, and no evil would I fear! "
Philosopher: "Amazing! Were you not afraid of the Lion or the Snake?"
Parsifal: "Shanti told me:" 'Oh dear, be not afraid, the necklace has power to ward off evil.'
"While clad in these precious stones, my body so shone forth, it provoked the indignation of many a beast; and soon, their dark hearts contrived evil against me; for, they could not tolerate a mere little squirrel presuming high-rank with human beings.
Alas, little they knew, that I was in charge of a promise-gift to a wonderful man in the future. My good man, how much I suffered for thy sake, and the princess' tears still echo in my heart.
Would you leave the barbarian creature lost in the wood of oblivion?
Philosopher (in silence, holding the simple petal of Melusina, the humble token-reminder of the pure love of Shanti)
"Please come nigh. Do not be distrustful to my fidgety hands and incredulity. Let me hold the curious necklace, that in touching the little beads glinting, perhaps I could feel the heart and tears of that adorable woman."
Parsifal: "These precious pearls represent rare virtues, like the rising rainbow, in flowing colors their beauty displaying, they bring great promise to the beholder (Galatians 5: 22).
These gems must be won through the craggy Path of Endurance and Purification.
Unfortunately, I cannot claim this necklace, because such perfection is only vouchsafed to the most excellent of human beings.
But between man and man, woman and woman, child and child, there is such difference; but among us, the lower creatures of creation, homogeneity is more uniformed in character —alike in the species as in the genera— a brute and a chump would continue so, until at last, the yawning grave puts an end to their drudgeries.
Some people are born with the shimmering sparks of divinity, while others, for some mysterious reasons, are always bent on earthly pursuits; and others —much to my surprise, are earth-bond with the shackles of Judas the betrayer, always stooping downward, in slouching gait they sit and walk and chatter, sneer and snicker at every virtue, always striking kindred with everything botched, vulgar and uncouth.
Not so with Shanti, she is a humble woman, but her human nature glimmers with the loftiest splendor, always looking for heavenly auguries and things celestial: the meaning of existence in the ineffable hieroglyphs of that Mysterious Artist."
Philosopher: "With due respect my teacher, I do not agree with you about such generalizations. We all have the right to claiming virtues and beautiful things.
Few human beings would be so debauched as not to enjoy the glare of those exquisite pearls, let alone find delight in a landscape, a glorious sunset or a breathtaking day-break. Nevertheless, I cannot comprehend how material things not always tally for goodness and character?
But precious things could improve our human nature in the contemplation of the beautiful and the divine.
Would you appraise a nugget of gold only for its sparkling glints than for its profit? "
Parsifal: “Of course, I will stare at it for its beauty alone! But five out of six humans would look at it for its lucrative profits. Like a shining gewgaw on a swine's muzzle, so are precious gems worn by a dunce!
It is not just the gold that is beautiful in itself, but that akin eyes are necessary, to comprehend the intrinsic beauty, nay, to give it form, charm and grace in the pre-eminent hand of the fine artist!
If the gifted soul could enjoy the downy clouds, the yonder mountains' ranges and serrated ridges, the serenest lakes of her pretty face, the eddying rivers and the ineffable azure in her far-off gazes, then, I would not exchange her for any fleeting tangible thing, not even for all the gold of Constantinople, nor even for all the treasures buried in the netherworld of submerged kingdoms.
Philosopher: "I would like to have that dear creature, to possess her rosy cheeks in my bosom.
Today I woke up sound and hale, ready to seek the cheerful laughter of Aurora, to win my trophy at the steps of my master.
Lead my steps around that legendary isle, and show me the noble shapes of bygone American days.
Where is the hoary skiff (boat) that shall ferry us around the Stygian water of the Hudson River"
Parsifal: “This necklace of pandora beads is indeed beautiful, but the path to win the it is foggy, for, Mother Nature may have other illusive veils to show thee.
Be bold and follow me through this twilight of haunting ghosts and spirits seeing.
Down there, you may come across the other beasts, "ugly gargoyles of deceit," grim delusions and chimeras of thy daily angst-ridden soul, the fallacy and recurrence of one thousand errors in the madness of Homo sapiens.
Let us invest our drooping spirits with the courage of prophet Jeremiah, and comforted by the good tidings of hope and love in Shanti, allow thy sceptic eyes to view the sad future New York City's skyscrapers, luxurious pinnacles, splendid temples, grand pavilions, glistering spires, large bridges and everywhere before thy dumbfounded sight, the scattered ruins of this current civilization's hubris, the to-morrow in the unpalatable pages of History --the culminating zenith of endless efforts in the all-destructive fist of King Nihilo...
Remote-Viewing:
Meanwhile, the Phoenix Bird, endowed with the faculty of remote-viewing, sets his inner-eye to the past year 448 with Shanti.
An angel comes to console the Princess with high-winged promises, his sweet words moved the dame to jot down a short poetry!
Phoenix: “The ever-seeking Squirrel has many precious stones for the prim Philosopher, but there is One-Pearl that exceeds the glint-beauty of any precious gem —even rarer and lasting than diamonds, jasper, sapphire, chrysolite, beryl, topaz, ruby or any other pearly splendor that dazzle our mortal eyes.
While they were startled at the peculiar tiny petals of Melusina's blissful life, the words ‘beauty and innocence’ reminded me the Abduction of Psyche by Adolf W. Bouguereau, the famed French artist who could capture the soul’s most endearing expression in his splendid canvases: a fine mind in the serenest meditations with childish beauty, whence the other reflecting feelings of a blue heaven could shine the high-flown aspiration of the great soul.
It is this uncanny "no se que es" of strangest feminine reservation, the melancholy visage of struggle and mortality, which in certain fine countenances, may convey both weakness and hardy endurance in heroic human frailty, that brave vulnerability —to know herself such destitute a princess in the woods of Transylvania (448 A.D.).
With my internal eye (remote viewing), I could see the Poor Soul Shanti a little tad sad and weeping, because her lonely day had been cast in bleak-colored forebodings; a detached resignation to the many riddles of life seems to hold her downcast, and she was yearning for a consoling sign, a goodly bird soaring in the clouds of timelessness, that her life-prospect was under the caring-hand of a loving god.
While glancing at her grove-ringed dwelling place, I also saw an invisible beautiful angel at her rear, but he stayed his flying feet behind a lovely tree's trunk unseen; and from there, the luminous being issued this awesome message to her ears:
Angel to Shanti:
"To you, great spirit, breath of life, whose journey may look forward to Eternity. I know your tenderness and fidelity, and how through patience you have perfected your human language in sealed lips of silence.
How hard it is for the poor child to remain faithful to those high-flown dreams. I truly long to see your life with heavenly-invested far-off gazes; and through those crystal eyes, a glassy mirror may reflect the very essence of your boundless being: concealed expression of the one who feels like an angel, and yet so human and vulnerable to things sublime beyond your mortal ken: hidden feelings of the soul who weeping and smiling went on learning the wordless language.
Please, keep quiet, I know your restlessness, and how often you wanted to say something when your god remains in silence:
Sweet conversation of those twin eyes, when looking at each other, joy and tears may share in equal measure, the secrecy of fragile humanity, indeed, veiled in mortal flesh and bones.
Please I long to hear your sweet singing in new tellings, nay, let them speak your secret promenades in this forgotten wood of hope and love.
Oh pretty face! reveal your innermost self, tell us the story, the first glimpse, the brief impression in that lake of your autumnal meditations.
In those living features, the most sublime hieroglyphs, characters of your pure nature, the grammar of your true essence, the sweet-tellings are spelled with the fingerprints of the most intimate scribe, whose prophecies rarely fail to fulfill your curiosity, a luminous destination...
You shall see the Blue Prince, and He will tour you through fantastic Agharti, a place of magic and new en-chanting mysteries, the underworld kingdom which holds new awesome feelings to your humming delight.
Finally, I shall remind you of your celestial origin. High above the eternal spheres, always shining, announce the starry path you should follow.
Can you believe you are divine and eternal?
Will annihilation of your physical body destroy you?
For how long will you dwell in that valley of unbelief?
Wake up!
You are more than waste matter and energy in purposeless existence, more beautiful than the shining glare of rarest gems, more sensible than any golden nuggets of silly tangibility.
Spirit you are! and the high-lighted path is beyond time and space. Indeed you are a goddess destined to the arching heaven, but in the meantime, thou shall perfect thyself in this lower realm of thorns and thistles and snakes..."
Phoenix: "Meanwhile, Shanti, with her forefinger, kneels on her knees, to jot down this most lovey poetry on the muddy ground:
Eye Would Like To Speak To Eye But I Just Look
Shanti: “Dear angel, let the door of my heart be opened to Him, but in placid silence for ears could hear us, and the spoken word could interrupt our sweet conversation.
Talk to me and I shall listen to you with my heart's yearnings; tell me, and I will have delight in thy tellings.
Please, don't ask me, for what I am, you are, what I know, He knows, and what I dream He just wishfully dreams.
Just keep on looking at me, and if you wish to weep, then let us weep and share every single tear with joy and happiness, because we love each other ---in the awesome mirror of our souls' clouds-embosomed lakes!"
~ Continue Chapter V:
www.eddiebeato.com/shanti-chapter-v--speaking-to-the-dead-by-the-hudson-river.html