Tuesday, May 21, 2013
A Series by A'Ishah
I have noted that DJ likes to begin a series of writing by picking a word to define. It is a good tool for a writer. The problem that I am having just now is that the word I want to define is Transcendence. When you understand the way I use the word, defining it then becomes a wall to the very word itself. It is like defining ‘God’. I use the word Allah in my practiced prayers but sometimes I use other words. There are many words for Allah. None truly do justice to the force that fills me in prayers.
Transcendence: Noun: A state of being or existence above and beyond the limits of the material world.
It will do. That is so limiting compared to the energy that heals me. It does not fairly describe the kind of love that Ayame taught to us. It only touches on it. I want to transcend the definition and try to put to words what I have learned from Ayame, ‘Woman Unformed’ and Amanda.
This will be difficult for me to write.
I have studied the English language for many years. I am good in its use. I have read the words of many languages using translation dictionaries. I know people from many countries and I have found that the way the mind thinks using language ‘bends’ the mind into a form that fits the language, not the other way around. That means that your language automatically limits you.
When you do work with the energy of love such as the work we do with Ayame Kikou, or the work I do in prayers, language no longer matters. The more you find yourself using language in the act of prayers, the use of your own ki (ch’i) or in the use of practiced chants, you limit harshly the results of your work. You are trying to put limited reigns on a thing that will not be contained.
If you try to put a rope around love, it will fight back. It is here that I want to share an excerpt from one of DJ’s books because it describes what I am talking about so well.
This is from the book, Soul Mating with your Sacred Twin and it is about Lady Somsri:
. . . I continue with a final picture of Somsri. At my request, she once used her energy to find her higher self; literally, she wanted to connect with Quan Yin. At this time, we had not quite understood the full picture of a second soul. I was also still learning and I did not understand surrender and the power it allows when reaching for love. Neither Somsri nor I considered surrender then. So when she tried to contact Quan Yin, she did not use my method of peacefully opening my energies to allow Quan Yin to enter me—or literally, becoming my higher self by allowing. Somsri did it by using her energy forcefully.
With all intent, she “entered” the Zero Point Energy field full force. Full force with Somsri’s energy packs a monstrous wallop. The end result was Somsri reeling with a massive headache for the next few days after literally being repelled with feelings of insult. She told me that her energy was forced back into her full power times two. The headache was the result of the blown fuse she created in forcing.
The event was a lesson screaming at her to surrender rather than using force. Somsri saw it as an attack and never tried to connect in meditation again. In fact it was at that point that Somsri became ever fearful of what we called Quan Yin and wanted nothing to do with the spiritual context of her own energy work.
I honestly think that this story of Lady Somsri who was, while alive, a terrible force do deal with, best describes the ‘force’ or love. Love is power beyond all things. It . . . it. I cannot use this to describe love. “It” insults what we call Sentient Ki. I will use two words for the power we call love. For me, it is both Allah and Quan Yin. We have other words too but I wanted to use the word from my original faith and that of Ayame’s choosing.
I want you to see that love is compassion. I want you to see that love is power. I want you to know the literal force I deal with daily in my prayers and the power I feel from “Woman Unformed” when she and I meet.
Love is double edged when you see love at this level. Love does not allow transgression. It allows transcendence but only if you come to honor love completely. Come to it with force of the mind that is used to bending things by ‘will’ and you lose the completeness of compassion and grace that is provided there for . Your single minded ways will be repelled and you will see love as something quite black or I should say that you will see love as dangerous.
That’s because you forgot to ask with kindness first. Lady Somsri was as hard headed as DJ. She tried to enter the force of love by force without kindness in entering. She was repelled.
Defining transcendence is like defining the Grace of Allah, God, Quan Yin, and on and on and on. You cannot do it. If you think that this power I speak of is made up—if you think it is all created in the mind and that those who witness it are delusional, then have guts to read the first two books then be brave enough to try the work.
It will not only change you forever, you will realize without any doubts that the wisdom, the force, the feeling of love and the power that will repel you if you enter this power wrongly, is beyond a person’s imagination. When you feel the energy flood your body for days at a time, your life will change forever.
The part of this that breaks my heart is the mere fact that so many people caught up in a world of definition will never realize this moment because their religion says it is evil, their science says it is make-believe and their atheistic minds are made up so clearly that they refuse to investigate the possibilities.
Atheists and scientists tell me they are waiting for proof yet they refuse to open the door to look because they decided that there is no proof. They are hypocrites.
Religious fanatics say that this is evil energy even though their supposed saints they follow used the exact energy and they described it in detail. Religious fanatics are hypocrites. They worship love and call it evil at the same time.
For the extreme people of religion, atheism and science, please be aware that you all believe completely in the other man’s methods. You rely on ego for answers and allow fear to be your god.
Grace will not allow you to transgress her. Neither will she block her love for you. Why are you so frightened to admit that love exists? Why are you so afraid to accept that love is power?
Because you have not once stepped outside of your mind and into Grace that cannot be defined. To me, this is a very sad thing. Love repels ignorance. You repel wisdom.
Posted by DJ at 1:57 PM
An Essay by A’ishah and ‘Woman Unformed’
I wanted to share a new essay with A’ishah because our forms of delivery are shockingly different. I believe in breaking the horse the hard way. A’ishah is a horse whisperer.
Whenever I have tea with A’ishah I walk away a calmer and happier soul. Maybe that’s why she’s here. She is a gift to me. She makes me feel love when I sit beside her.
DJ is exhausted after having published 26 works on Amazon in less than a year. We want to unsaddle him. I broke him the hard way, sorry to say. I am one of his master teachers. God, I hate the term master, but on this occasion I must use the words. If you have had the chance to read Soul Mating and Soul Mating with your Sacred Twin, DJ opens up some of his own wounds there and he does it bravely.
After Ayame died, DJ was handed off to Amanda and me. Amanda was less harsh with DJ. I was not. He needs his ass kicked at times. I swear, if he keeps thinking like a man I am going to choke him! I love the guy, I really mean that, but he is the strongest willed man I have ever met. Get this through your heads, dear readers. I have known a LOT of men. This guy tops the list of hard headed, male driven, force finding in your face Self-Command. Sometimes to a fault.
I have to admit something here: He emulates both Ayame and . . .me. I have only myself to blame. The man does not give up, just like me. I adore the hard headed pain in the ass!
Now, with all that said, you may have noticed that the title of this little piece is Transcending Political Horror. That is not an easy task which is why the four of us wrote two books to help you get through it. Freeing the Western Mind and Suicide of a Nation.
DJ’s passion for political action is only overshadowed by mine. You will see this in the two books above. DJ and I want to step beyond the political fray now. We said what we have needed to say. We finally got our words said and we gave you a tool . . . a path out of the blindness.
We now want to transcend that work and go further. Going further means a continued look at our faults, our strengths and realizing that our faults are a power to reckon with. This is where I step out of the ring and give it to A’ishah because the way she is going to present this blows me away.
A part of me dies today. I looked at the news on the Middle East. That was once my home. It continues to be in flames. I am not talking about Syria. I am talking about the hearts of my beloved people. We, those of us from the Middle East, are, in my mind, the most terrible and deeply loved-based people on the planet. Passion ignites this. You do not achieve love at a level this powerful without also igniting the darkness within. They are both forces born within and once you find the doorway to pure love, you will also find power. Power may take over your mind and create a zealot. It can also create a saint.
I want to begin by asking our readers to do a thing for me personally:
Please forgive my people. In many cases, do not know what they are doing.
Part of this is a writing I am doing for myself, to transcend the Middle East. Part of it is to tell my people how much I desperately love them. I have, in my past writing, told you that I abandoned Islam. That was a very difficult thing for me to do on several levels. Yes, a good deal of it is cultural because Islam is more than a religion. It is my people.
I am tearing up. My face is streaked with my love. You will have to excuse me for typing this but I want you to know just how much I love my people. They are passionate. They are full of fear. They transcend the fear through Allah. It is only in this power that we have held together for so long in a part of the world that is the breadbasket for the machine revolution. Our countries fueled the factories and the wars. They made it possible for much of the energy that moved this world into a new age. And in doing so, we lost everything, including a hope for freedom.
The people of the Middle East are owned. Their souls are free. Most of them are free, but for the tiny groups who are intent on murder. You see them in the news. You use them to define us. We are not zealots. We are devoutly spiritual people. We transcended political horror in our hearts and we, as a people, will forever be devoted to the heart of the power that gives us grace in the face of such travesties.
We hate the oil. The rest of the world loves it. It is killing all of us.
Oil is political power. Political power is evil. We pray for an end to political power.
I said that I gave up Islam. I want to explain that because I do think that many of you will misrepresent what I say in your minds. I pray to Allah because to do so fills my prayer room with amazing energy, grace and love. I abandoned the politics of Islam. I abandoned the rules that say that I cannot be me. I abandoned the parts of our texts that seem to say I am at fault and Allah is not.
We, who are particularly faithful, know that there is no difference between the power, Allah, and the rest of the universe. I had to step away from Islam and into me so that I could move closer to Allah. My people’s human rules were choking me to death.
I pray five times daily. I beg for help but more than that, I ask for transcendence so that I do not have to pray for help. In doing that, asking for transcendence, a am filled utterly with the most powerful love any human can know . . . and I cry . . . five times daily. I cry.
Posted by DJ at 12:12 PM
Monday, May 20, 2013
Sitting at my favorite coffee shop as I write wondering what’s next. Since October 12, 2012, I have published 26 books and short stories. I have about five more novels to write to finish up the Blood of My Children and Jax series. All but one of those novels is about half done. I can’t write for a while. My mind is mush.
Blood of the Sisterhood and The Golden Dragon are next on the list. But, for now, I foresee a lot of walks around the lake and the track with the mind turned off.
As for the blogs, Suzanne and Amanda are going to continue their two series: Path of Healing and I am as Safe as You Believe I Am. Suzanne’s next post is ready. I have not net edited it.
As for this blog, I just finished publishing the final of the Ayame Series which is actually a prequel to Suicide of a Nation. It is called Freeing the Western Mind and it is available in FREE PDF, and HTML. Look for the links above in the silver link bar.
Freeing the Western Mind is also now available on Amazon Kindle for $0.99. I wanted this book available to you for free across the board but for those if you with Kindles and Kindle programs on your computer, it will cost you a buck.
Finally, what to expect on this site in the coming weeks: Once I mend my mind for a few days or perhaps week, you can expect blog of a more social nature. I want to step away from the political scene for now unless some ridiculous event occurs that becomes fodder I cannot resist.
I am not entirely sure where I will go with the work. A’ishah has also informed me that she wants to write regularly on this site which I see as refreshing as her way of seeing things differs vastly from the rest of us. Her work is refreshing to see.
I am now going to put this tired mind in neutral.
Thank you for reading. We are NOT going away. Our readership is growing and the list of Ayame Kikou students is expanding. You can ALWAYS write to any of us on:
firstname.lastname@example.org. WE DO REPLY.
D Jon Harrison
Posted by DJ at 11:41 AM
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Sometimes the mind really gets in the way of life. It is the one biggest problem we all have, you know. Don’t you think so? I’m sure of it. Fear is not a real thing. Fear is a place in the mind that says, “Oh! I need to be scared now!”
I spent a lot of my years in the Middle East scared. I had reason to be aware. The Middle East is often a very dangerous place to live and it is riddled with closed minded people who just can’t allow anyone else to think differently than they do.
They are scared to death and they will put you in prison to make themselves feel safe.
I see all that my friends wrote above and my mind and heart go “Bravo”. I like the fact that they think it’s ok to discover genius from the inside not the outside. From my original part of the world, finding information from the inside is controlled and regulated by books of rules. Rules that say: you are not wise. Only the great master was wise. Follow him. There are three main books from my part of the world that dictate behaviors. All of them are read by the masses. Most people think they understand what the books mean. My personal opinion is that the books have been around for too long. They are written in a language for a time and a social culture that is long past and so the wisdom they may have held hundreds of years ago is now not useful for us. We grew up. Those who hang onto the books are trying desperately to remain ignorant of the fact that humanity is changing.
The Middle East is stuck. The United States of America embraces the Middle East as home to all sacred wisdom. The United States is stuck. The world is stuck between pages of words no one understands anymore and yet we are willing to kill others for looking outside of the books for new answers.
Humans perplex me a great deal. We are gifted with a mind, a body, a soul and all sorts of electronics inside that do miraculous things. Religions say, “Shut down the electronics! They are so, so very evil and you will go to hell if you follow them!” Scientists say: “There are no electronics, you fool. That love you feel on the inside is a chemical reaction.”
I just got stuck for what I want to say next because the world is so full of these stuck people that I realize my intent here was to talk to them and bang some sense into their enormous big foolish brains. I can’t find the words. Forgive me.
DJ once emailed me about a coffee cup he had with the following printed in it.
“I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person.”
I laughed very hard when I read that. It was quite funny to me at the time. Now it makes me sad. I want to start this writing over but I am going to leave the words above where they are so you can read them and see how my mind works.
I am changing who I am talking to now and the very silly part of this is that I have no idea who is reading my words. I am making an audience up in my head and I cannot see their eyes. Why, then, did I assume you were broken and closed minded religious children full of fear or scientists who refuse to see beyond simple gray matter? Because I am still hanging onto my old fears. See how powerful fear is? Fear closes the mind down. It ignites the thing that DJ and Amanda call the ANS. It’s animal instinct. It’s rage. It’s baseline stuff that keeps you alive when you have no other answers or you think no other answers prevail.
Other answers prevail. They were always there. You just had to see them with different eyes. You had to keep your eyes open and don’t let the brain stem or the frontal lobes analyze them for truth using their limited boundaries of thinking. The only way to look with open non-judgmental eyes is to tell your inside animal “I love you. I will protect you.” Then you look at the you that you think you are and you say to yourself:
“I think I am more than my mind. I think that I only use a tiny portion of my brain to analyze things. I want the thing I call the neo-cortex to shut up and sit down. Take a break. Let’s check out the other parts of me that no one knows about and see if she wants to analyze, think, create and find genius that we never found before. I love me. That means I love my frontal lobes, my ANS, my right and left arm and all that energy that runs through my body that gives me life. Especially I love the energy that runs through my body that gives me life.
“I love you, A’ishah. Let’s learn something new today . . . ALL of me. Let’s learn something new today.”
Now doesn’t that feel a lot better than the way I opened up my writing? I think so. And I did not write this from a point of view that came from past experience. I wrote it from my heart and that thing I call my heart is the real me. The other stuff is just tools. When was the last time you let the steering wheel decide when and where to turn the car?
It is not just an American blind spot. It is a worldwide blind spot and it is getting so big that the world leaders are telling us that it is illegal to change lanes. That is when things get dangerous. We live in a dangerous world because our leaders are the blind spots. Look past them. Don’t listen to them. Clean off your own mirrors. They see in all directions and they see things that the eyes’ signal to the rational brain cannot see.
The leaders told us that the rational brain is the only truth. We believed them. We died. We have been walking around dead now for many centuries and no one has buried us yet and the truth we follow is not only dead, it is rotting.
You brain can rot. Your rational mind can believe the fear that the ANS makes up because it is scared to die. The energy that is you keeps you alive. It does not rot. It does not fear. It sees where the rest of me cannot see. Like Janelle in the story Jewel of Sparkling Water: she hears and sees with one sensory. Her eyes. She does not filter it through her neo-cortex or the ANS. She lets it flow without restriction and she sees things most don’t.
Janelle is deaf and she is human. Some of the things she sees scare her. Her ANS is still active and that is good because it keeps her body alive. But, she still trusts that inner voice that is also inner light all the same, really. And in the story, that inner voice and that inner light is a little girl named Harmony.
I love DJ’s story. It says all that I just said but it does it with such beauty and eloquence because his mind . . . his frontal lobes did not write the story. His energy that keeps him alive wrote the story. That is where true genius lies.
I am going to assume that you just read all of this and that you are not a scared person. I am going to assume that you use love as your genius. I am going to assume that you are not the unarmed person on DJ’s coffee cup. With my assuming that, I do not need to write another word. You got it.
If you have not read the two series, here are the links to both:
The Sin of Inspiration Part Six: What’s that Fuzzy Space Between the Neo-Cortex and the Brainstem (ANS)?
Posted by DJ at 4:49 PM
Friday, May 17, 2013
This will be the second to last entry for the Quantitative and Sin of Inspiration series that are on Ayame Toriigi Way and Stream’s Breath. It will be followed up by a conclusion by A’ishah. This is a short story staring our two little girl heroes of the Jax series, Harmony and Jax. I decided to put the teachings of the two series in human context. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did writing it.
If you have not read the two series, here are the links to both:
The Sin of Inspiration Part Six: What’s that Fuzzy Space Between the Neo-Cortex and the Brainstem (ANS)?
D Jon Harrison
Jewel of Sparkling Water
She spent most of her life along rivers, preferring the ones at higher elevations. Born in Yakima, Janelle Wilson was one quarter Yakima Indian. She didn’t look Native American with her tawny brown hair and pale brown eyes. Her heart was Native. Her heart belonged to Grandfather.
Grandfather was full-blood but a mix of two tribes. He claimed Nez Pierce. Because of this and where he had chosen to live, Janelle was allowed to spend the time where she wanted to be the most, along the rivers in Idaho.
Janelle rarely heard herself called by her birth name. Everyone called her Jewel. Her one brother had always called her Janelle. She adored the fact that he preferred the name. It made her feel closer to him. Kellen Wilson had died in his mid-thirties. Janelle often wondered about his presumed death. He was never found. Stories trickled in about his death. None of it made sense. It was unlike Kellen to be a part of anything violent, but the stories came from many sources, some of which she honored absolute truth.
The loss of Kellen had left a hole in her heart and yet that same hole created a growing gift that only Grandfather knew how to water and make grow.
When thinking of her two names, Janelle laughed. She didn’t even know what the words sounded like. She just saw the “J” sign with most unless a close member of the family or friend wanted her to know the name they were choosing to call her. To most, Jewel was a beautiful endearment given to her by Grandfather when she was born. He saw the light brown eyes of the child and called her Jewel of Sparkling Water. Occasionally, someone very close to her would finger spell the enter name given to her by Grandfather. The only ones who did this, signed with great love in their eyes.
Janelle was not just hearing impaired. She was totally deaf. The inner ear was missing some of the key elements for hearing. She often sat along the Selway River, watching the sparkling wet in the midday light, imagining the sparkles being sound. It always brought a smile to her face when she thought things like this and when she smiled, her beauty became a stunning light of its own. If a person was standing beside her, not seeing her face and she turned to give them the inner sparkle, it stopped them cold.
She had a way with smiles that came from the inside. She hypnotized her chosen recipient—giving them a sense of grace they would receive from no other.
Along the rivers of the Clearwater and Bitterroot Wilderness, Janelle was never alone. Grandfather taught her how to listen from the inside. She heard things no one else ever did. Grandfather taught her how to feel the hands of the little ones who guided her. Invisible, gentle touches stroked her skin at intervals. She felt a warm sensation. Often the touches were followed by smiles. They were not her smiles. She felt the water spirits joy in the silent relationship. She felt love.
Grandfather was wise. Grandfather had many silent loves touching his heart.
“Did you spend any time with Janelle today?”
Harmony glanced up to her sister, Charm, and then back to the little fishies in her calm pool of water at the shore of the Selway River. “Yup. I gave her a hug. I think she might even hear me sometimes. I hope so.”
Charm stopped beside her little sister and splashed the water gently with her fingers. “You know, we have a lot invested in her. She’s one of the special ones we are always looking for.”
“Ya mean like May?” Harmony scrunched up her little face and her tiny brown eyes threw a questioning look.
Charm shook her head, letting the heavy auburn locks flop across her face. “No. Not like May. May is one of us. She was lost for a long time in the streets. We were lucky to find her and get her back. Janelle is fully human. That’s why we’re so interested in her. She sees things most humans can’t see and she sees without eyes. That means she sees without looking. Janelle is rare, Harmony.”
“Oh.” Harmony went back to placing the palms of her hands gently in the water, hoping the fingerlings might swim into her hands. They never did.
The two remained quiet for several minutes. Harmony was content to play with her fish while Charm leaned back against a large granite rock and closed her eyes. The late morning sun heated her body. Charm was pulled out of a lazy lucid state with Harmony’s voice.
“Ya know, Janelle is going to New York City next week.”
Chapter One: Always Keep a Card Hidden
Janelle had never been on an airplane. She always took Greyhound from Yakima to Lewiston where Grandfather picked her up from the bus station. They always stopped at the health food shop next door to grab a few of Janelle’s favorite bars and drinks then hopped into Grandfather’s beaten down ancient pickup truck of many colors. That was what Janelle called the truck. It had at least five colors. The right front fender was replaced and donned the usual primer rust color. The rest of the truck had been painted a number of times and had other primer sprayed in ‘hurt’ areas. Janelle thought of the truck as a horse.
This time there would be no Grandfather to pick her up at the bus station, no health food store and no well-known faces. It was her first real adventure, at age 18.
Janelle was a mixture of savant and a C- student. She had no interest in history or geography and her grades showed it. She knew enough about history to know that she had to be aware of the mistakes humans made in the past as not to repeat those same mistakes. Looking at the news bored her. She was ever amazed at the stupidity and the laziness of humans in general. Grandfather was her teacher of history. He was enough.
Janelle excelled in mathematics and oddly, language arts and literature. Those two last subjects were usually difficult for those with hearing impairments because the language they spoke using ASL was far simpler and faster to get a point across than the more cumbersome English language. But Janelle became fascinated with the English language at a young age. To her, it was like a mathematical puzzle using an alphabet instead of numbers. She turned into a voracious reader with the help of her mother once she got over the hump of understanding English syntax.
Janelle was excited to read the magazines on the plane but even more excited to be trapped in a 747 with so many people because her true genius was seeing people with an internal eye. It was a skill most people ignored. She loved studying human behavior. She could sit in a mall food court for two hours while her mother shopped, just watching. It was a silent dance of manipulations, dressing rituals and mating practices. She saw herself as a cutting edge psychologist, accepting the likelihood that she would never be able to practice that art directly due to her loss of hearing. Research was fine for her.
She was to take a bus into Sea-Tac and hop a plane for O’Hare, change planes and land at LaGuardia where her two cousins, Frankie and Norma would pick her up. Frankie was a girl. Janelle laughed about her choosing Frankie over Francine. Frankie was actually a best friend while Norma was a blood relative. To Janelle they were cousins.
Both New York girls were hearing impaired. They wore hearing aids, signed quite well and spoke clearly enough for a hearing person to understand them in a quiet atmosphere where they could concentrate on the monotone voices.
Janelle snapped her suitcase shut and motioned to her mother that she was ready to go.
As Janelle drove past the apple orchard with her mother at the wheel, she remembered that her Grandfather had once called New York City the Big Apple. She hoped she would see apple trees there to make her feel more at home.
Charm examined the layout of Sea-Tac Airport on a wall map. Harmony was in a gift shop picking out post cards with her best friend Jax. Both girls would pass for about eight years of age while Charm looked to be in her late teens. The reality was that they were all so old no one could count that high.
Harmony and Jax had backpacks stuffed full on their backs. Jax was wearing a new pair of jeans instead of her worn out light blue saggy-baggy ones that she adored. She had managed to bring the count of flowers that sprouted in her hair down to just a few. The happier she was, the more there were. It was the way of being Jax but she didn’t want to stick out too much in a human crowd. She struggled hard with her thoughts, hoping for fewer flowers. For Jax, that was hard work because she was almost always happy.
Along with her new jeans Jax wore a new bright yellow t-shirt with flowers printed across the front. Mary Proud Moon, a local resident and matron of the Selway River, had gotten her some new clothes when she had last been to Lewiston so she would look decent when around humans. Jax liked Mary a lot. Mary had been like a grandmother to Jax since the day she appeared and befriended Harmony. Mary Proud Moon was known as a “Between”. Not quite human—not quite immortal. Unlike Jax and Harmony, Mary Proud Moon chose to look quite old. Her shiny silver hair was usually pulled back in a tight bun on top and she wore a denim skirt and a button down cotton shirt most of the time. Sometimes it was hard to tell if her face was skin or the bark of a ponderosa. Her outward demeanor was like the bark . . . until she allowed you into her hearts. Jax was allowed into Mary Proud Moon’s heart. Jax didn’t see the ponderosa face. She saw love.
Jax was a Jax. Harmony and Charm were from the faery clans: younger girls were called faeries, the older were fays. Their kind had no wings and they were basically human sized but just a bit smaller. The kind with wings was a different kind of faery. They belonged to Beam’s clan. As for the males of the faery/fay clans? They preferred to be called clansmen.
Harmony had wanted a chance to talk to Janelle ‘human to human’ for a long time. The clan’s folk had the ability to slow their vibration rate down enough to form in physical. They had to change the way they dressed and act a bit more ‘civilized’ but they did it often and were very active in human affairs. There were only a rare few humans allowed to know of their existence.
The ‘immortal’ clans were able to make the shift down to human vibration levels more easily than fays, but all clans, Faery, Immortal and Betweens, practiced the art and had created a network of connections worldwide to help humanity grow up. It was slow work and it was a work they had recently begun to feel was a failure. As far as they could tell, humans had stopped trying.
Janelle had already boarded when all three girls, along with their Aunt Rachel, arrived to the boarding gate. Rachel signed the papers and helped to hang the under-age child tags around the necks of Harmony and Jax. Harmony had flown ‘human style’ before. It was all too new for Jax who was nervous about trusting a big chunk of metal to fly them where they wanted to go when she could just as easily have “hoped” herself there in a shot. But it was a chance to mingle with humans and she wanted very much to meet Janelle. Harmony talked about Janelle constantly.
As Harmony marched ahead into the covered ramp with Jax following, Charm turned to Rachel.
“I don’t trust those two alone as far as I can throw them, Rachel.”
Rachel smiled knowingly with waist length black hair laying across her form in graceful curves. She pulled her hair out of her black eyes and dark face as she spoke. “Neither do I. That’s why your mother is waiting at LaGuardia.”
Rachel stared momentarily at Charm’s face, seeing so much of her mother face staring back at her. Charm brandished auburn hair with skin and eyes that almost matched. It was a stunning look that only one other in the clans had: Hope, Charm’s mother.
Charm continued. “What about the plane change at O’Hare?”
“O’Hare is covered by the airlines. They will escort the girls. It should be the flight itself that bothers you.” She turned to face Charm. “Can you imagine those two getting bored with the flight and simply leaving at 30,000 feet?” Rachel’s black eyes sparkled as her face grew into a wide smile. “That would be a tale to tell!”
Charm’s eyes grew wide. “Rache! Harmony would to that!”
Rachel shook her head calmly. “Not with Jhema and Jake on board as hidden chaperones. Always keep a card hidden, especially with those two young poker sharks.”
The face of the younger fay relaxed.
Janelle was comfortably seated on the right isle of the 747. She was a little disappointed that she had the aisle seat. She hoped no one too large took up the other two seats between the window and her. She wanted to watch the wing that was just ahead of her. Her mother told her that the wings on a plane this large would flex up and down like they might be flapping. It was a purposeful structural design. Flex instead of break. The entire fuselage, she was told, would do the same. It made her nervous but it made sense. Too ridged in any structure created cracks under stress. Not unlike human emotions. She always equated things like this with human behaviors. It was a way to make herself aware of all things like Grandfather had taught her.
To her delight, two little girls wearing back packs and smiles stood beside her as the one in a green satin party dress with matching shoes spoke. “Hi. I’m Harmony and this is my best friend Jax. Can we sit there please?”
Janelle watched the motion of Harmony’s body and the look in her eyes, realizing immediately that the two little girls with tags around their necks were to be her travel partners. Janelle stood and let the two in. She helped them stuff their packs under the seats in front and when the girls were settled in, she dug into her own backpack and took out a small leather covered notebook she carried with her at all times. With well-practiced hand writing she explained to Harmony and Jax that she was deaf but could read lips to some degree and she was more than happy to write notes to converse with them.
Harmony beamed as her hands flew into action rapid fire:
“My mama taught me 150 languages and one of them is sign language. Do you speak ASL or signed English?”
Janelle’s eyes grew wide as she spoke a difficult to grasp monotone exasperation and signed back.
Jax quickly grabbed the pad of paper from Janelle’s lap and scribbled a quick response: “Harmony likes to tell big stories.”
The three broke into laughter as Harmony quietly thanked Jax in her head for getting her out of the jam. She had momentarily forgotten to act ‘normal’ for humans.
After the thrill of the take-off which left both Jax and Janelle wide eyed, the three chatted endlessly in silence. They had decided to take in whispers as not to interrupt the other passengers. Harmony and Janelle spent the better part of an hour teaching Jax some primary verbs and nouns in ASL and they helped her realize that English syntax was a burden to true communication when using ASL ‘slang’. Jax began to throw words out with facial expression and feeling.
Janelle had quickly made two new friends.
Jake and Jhema sat several rows behind the girls on the center row with Jhema on the isle. She leaned into the dark skin of her forever lifetime mate and whispered. “So far this is working out well. I am betting Harmony is jumping out of her skin wanting to tell Janelle who she really is.”
Jake smiled warmly. His teeth glistened over a dark Tamil face. He looked at a woman who could be his twin as he spoke. “She will find a way to do that in the next two days. Count on it.”
Jhema rolled her eyes as she sipped in her tea. Placing the cup on her small fold-down table, she dipped the tea bag up and down in Styrofoam instead of the fine china she was used to as she spoke. “That’s what I am afraid of.”
The trip seemed forever long. Each of the three girls had taken cat naps, commented on the flapping 747 wings, and laughed uncontrollably when they all took a careful look up the isle to see the fuselage moving like a snake. This created a myriad of snake jokes from Harmony and Jax. It also created a new set of friends for Janelle. It had been a long time since Janelle felt this comfortable with someone new. Even though the girls could be half her age, she was mystified with some of the things they knew. She was further magnetized to them for the pure and honest ways with her. She wanted this pair to be real friends.
“I gotta go to the bathroom.”
Janelle caught the word ‘bathroom’ coming off of Jax’s lips and pointed ahead to a door a few yards away. The two girls scampered up the aisle together and fought each other for the door handle to squeeze themselves in. An airline attendant smiled as she walked by, hearing Jax expound from the other side of the door.
“It’ sounds all windy-blowy in here . . . hey! How am I ‘spose ta wash my hands in that! It’s too high!”
Janelle got up to stretch her legs. She’d been noticing several people were up and around. Some sat on the arms of seats, conversing with others. She assumed that they were making friends with new people. She smiled warmly at the thought as she passed an attendant.
The attendant turned and faced the back of Janelle as she walked by then spoke. “Your smile just made my day.”
Janelle stopped and looked around. The colors in the plane seemed to change. They brightened much like the times when Grandfather was with her. In her years spent with Grandfather, he had taught her to discern the slightest changes in things with every working sense that she had. Her skills were so honed that her mother joked that there was something supernatural about the way Janelle saw things.
Janelle turned to see the flight attendant smiling back at her. Janelle cocked her head and signed. “You have a beautiful smile too.”
The look on the attendant’s face queued Janelle to give an explanation. She reacted with the sign “I’m deaf.”
The attendant nodded her head and signed back. “We get a lot of hearing impaired people on this flight for some reason. You say you’re deaf. Do you mean hearing impaired?”
Janelle was thrilled that yet another person on the flight knew sign language. She went on to explain that she was totally deaf which created a look of confusion on the attendant’s face . . . “Then how did you know I commented on your smile? I said it with your back turned.”
Janelle rolled her eyes and her forever smile ignited again. “Of course I knew what you said. Your colors reflected off the ceiling and covered everyone. You said it genuinely. That always lights things up!”
Janelle turned and continued her journey, leaving the attendant and one other who had listened into the conversation in awe. The two attendants looked at each other wide eyed as Jax and Harmony stood outside of the bathroom door, both expressing simultaneously under their breaths. “OOOoooooo.”
Jax and Harmony decided to explore and find new friends. They stopped and said hi at intervals. Mostly the other children caught their eyes. One woman caught Harmony by surprise. Harmony put her hands to her hips and wagged her head side to side. “Hey! What are you two doing here?”
Jake put his finger to his lips and shushed Harmony. Jhema leaned into Harmony and whispered. “We’re just as interested in Janelle as you are. Don’t tell Jax we’re here. We want this to be as natural as possible. Can you do that for me?”
Harmony’s defiance vanished as she nodded her head exaggeratedly and skipped down the aisle to meet yet another little girl.
Change of planes at O’Hare was uneventful. Jax and Harmony were thrilled with the light display of the underground people moving belts to the next flight. They were also curious as to why an airport in one of the coldest parts of the country was made of glass, further tainting their views of the average human IQ.
When Janelle found herself on a new jet seated once again with the two curmudgeons, her eyes furrowed and suspicions were raised. Harmony shrugged her shoulders and signed. “Gotta be a miracle, huh?”
Janelle smiled and turned to look out to the tarmac. She had the window seat this time. It was cloudy outside. The temperature was in the sixties. Late September was moving toward October. Harmony and Jax were busy once again making friends on the plane once in flight. It gave Janelle time to think about her cousins and why she was going to New York. It worried her. . . . Motion caught her eye as she turned left.
“Well, look whose here!”
Janelle was greeted by the same flight attendant from the previous plane who knew sign. She sat in an empty seat beside Janelle and signed.
“We never had a chance to talk on the other plane. My name is Jean. This is my shuttle home. I live in New York. Care if I spend some time with you?”
Janelle’s face broke into a look of relief. The look didn’t go unnoticed by Jean who cocked her head to the side as she signed. “And that look is for?”
“My cousins want me to go to Zuccotti Park with them tomorrow and the next day to see Occupy.”
Jean leaned back in her chair and nodded. Pieces were coming together and they didn’t all look like chance. She stared at the overhead storage for a moment and then looked at Janelle again.
Janelle nodded her head as worry covered her face.
Jean rearranged her body to face Janelle so she could sign better and so Janelle could see her lips better as she spoke.
“I work at Zuccotti. I was a crash cart nurse at a trauma hospital in Seattle. Harborview. I worked it for about seven years before I became a victim of my own work. I had been a flight attendant before and I needed out of the stress. I lost all my seniority as a flight attendant and the only work I could land was the continental US. Most people in this business want flights to Japan or Hawaii. Most also want to be posted in Seattle but the only ones who get that as home base are the ones with the most seniority. Long story short, I live in New York City now.”
She stopped there to let all the new information sink in. Janelle became quiet for a full minute. She finally told Jean that she was from Yakima and flew out of Sea-Tac and then turned to the window for a moment. She jerked her head around and faced Jean with a deadly series look.
“Your color is purple. It has streaks of red. You got hurt a lot but you are an angel in a broken body. New York is going to explode in three days. I don’t want to be there. Why would you choose to be where so many angry people live?”
The revelation from Janelle did not take Jean totally by surprise. In her seven years as a nurse, she had witnessed several events that could never be explained with rational thought. Harmony and Jax had been quietly standing behind and to the side of Jean listening in when Jax stage whispered to Harmony.
“What’s an Occupy?”
Without waiting for a reply from Jean, Harmony burst in with a verbal and signed assault on the question.
“Oh, Occupy is a thing, well, it’s a bunch of people ALL over the country who are mad at the government and big ‘ol businesses who are hogg’n all the money so regular people can’t take their kids to the doctor and by new jeans. That’s what Jade told me. Jade is one of my sisters. I got three sisters: Charm, Jade and Meili. Charm looks just like mama causes she’s the only real daughter. The rest of us got ‘dopted. Anyway, the Occupy is people march’n in the streets asking for a refund.”
Jean and Janelle burst into laughter as did several other passengers who overheard Harmony’s dissertation on government spending.
One of the passengers added. “How do you add to that! It’s the best explanation I’ve heard in weeks!”
More laughter ensued when someone else added. “She has a better grasp of the situation than Fox.”
Another added. “Anyone has a better take than Fox.”
The conversation grew among a number of people in pockets across the length of the 747 cabin. Most conversations were about Harmony and Jax. People had become delighted that the pair of ‘tagged’ girls were doing their best to be diplomats of good manners and chatterbox joy with their chance to meet new people. The plane was filled with a mixture of nationalities and political philosophies. All thought it best to stray away from the pain of the Occupy conversation and moved into other less volatile chat.
What most had not noticed was the fact that a nearly full shuttle from Chicago to New York had suddenly become lit with happy conversations between total strangers. Harmony and Jax were contagious. People left their seats and traded places with others to have at the chance to share views of life in a situation where people normally shunned open contact for the sake of “public politeness”.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Jean or Janelle who both shared knowing glances that the two girls had a magical gift with people.
Janelle became suddenly quiet as she looked around the interior of the plane. She stared up to the ceiling, and with her honed gift of seeing what most never believed possible, she saw a change in the air. She both sensed and saw it. Janelle tugged on Jean’s arm and pointed up. Jean scanned the ceiling and saw nothing at first. She stared back at Janelle, knowing full well that this woman was somewhat otherworldly herself and then looked up again without intent. She just opened her eyes . . . .
Chapter Two: I’ll Raise You Ten
Harmony and Jax were back in their seats, tired of wandering the plane. Conversations had calmed to a more natural nature. Janelle kept an eye on the air in the cabin of the plane, feeling peace. It was a good change from the day before. She had been so worried about flight underneath her excitement for it.
There were enough spare seats on the flight that Harmony and Jax were able to temporarily commandeer two seats across from Janelle, giving a spare seat to Jean. Harmony laid her cards back onto the little fold out table face down. “I’ll raise you ten.”
Jax looked in her packsack for more chocolate coins and pulled out a handful. She placed nine of them on the table then ripped the gold foil off of the tenth and popped it into her mouth. “Call. I owe you one.” Both girls broke into giggles as their card game continued on.
Jean and Janelle had been very quiet for a long time. Janelle was staring out the window blankly as Jean was going over her flight schedule book. Getting bored with doing work on her down time, she put the book back in her bag and got up to get a soda. She nudged Janelle and signed drink with a question on her face. Janelle shook her off and signed ‘fine’.
Jean walked down the cabin aisle whispering to herself. “She’s not fine. I feel it the same way she sees things.”
Jean arrived back at her seat with two cans of ginger ale and four bags of nuts. She placed one drink and two bags of nuts in Janelle’s lap with a smile. Janelle dropped her head to her chest and back up smiling with a slightly red face.
“How did you know I like ginger ale?”
Jean shook her head. “I didn’t. If felt right.”
Janelle nodded her head as she examined the look on her new friend’s face. “You know, don’t you? You’re picking it up.”
Jean signed ‘yes’ as she took a gulp of her drink. She pulled her table down to her lap and put the drink and nuts on board so she could continue talking:
“You have been pounding me with it and it’s getting worse. What has you so strung out?”
Janelle’s face turned to a questioned look. “Strung out? Stretched out?”
Jean realized she had taken American slang one step beyond Janelle’s language base as she replied.
Janelle shook her head as she quickly signed. “Scared to death.”
This response took Jean by surprise with a single word signed and a face of confused concern that told Janelle volumes. “Why?”
Janelle repositioned herself to face Jean more directly.
“Occupy. Something very bad is going to happen. I see it when I look in dark spaces like shadows. I see pictures of police, ambulances, people screaming and shouting. It looks like a war to me. I don’t want to go to Zuccotti Park. I don’t want to go to the bridge with fighting.”
Harmony and Jax had quit playing cards and were listening intently as were Jhema and Jake who were once again several seats back but at a perfect angle for Jake to see and hear the conversation. Jhema got up to reposition herself with someone she had met earlier. The conversation was quietly gaining an interested audience from those close enough to hear.
Harmony entered the conversation. “What bridge?”
Janelle shook her head. Her face was racked with worry as she tried to explain what she kept feeling and seeing. None of what she said made sense to anyone but enough of it came out to concern a good many people. After having met and spoken with Janelle, several of the passengers were taking her seriously.
Jax was fidgeting and finally left her seat over the top of Harmony and faced Jean. “Can you please sign for Janelle? I think I know what’s wrong.”
The mid-portion of the 747 cabin was in a total hush as Jax began. The flowers scattered in her hair ignited smiling quiet responses from several.
“Ya see, Janelle, you’re a hero. I think you’re ‘spose ta be there. Harmony tells me that people who have names that start with “J” are heroes. Jade is Harmony’s big sister and she’s a hero for sure! I’ve seen her do some pretty important things for other people. We got a lot of people in our family that got ‘J’ names and all of ‘em do things that are extra special. Harmony calls me a hero ‘cause I’m her bestest friend and I give candy apples to strangers so maybe I’m a little hero too.”
Jax took a deep breath and continued to the delight of her growing audience. “And, well, then there’s Papa Joe. He’s kinda like everybody’s grandpa and everyone thinks he’s a hero ‘cause he stays quiet all the time and watches everything just like you and then when the time is right, he always knows what ta do. You do the same thing. I watch you and you’re always see’n things other people miss so I think you’re ‘spose ta go to Zucot Park ta be a hero and I bet Jean is too ‘cause she has a ‘J’ name too. That’s what I think.”
The kind of childlike wisdom that poured from the small one’s mouth was too much for those listening to contain as many of them applauded Jax’s outpouring of faith.
The girls never finished their poker game. They ate the chocolate coins. But they managed to raise the stakes of the flight. Their faith in Janelle shook a lot of people into silence. It was a silence that spawned a feeling so new that the cabin became quietly lighter.
Few noticed with their eyes. Everyone felt it. It even had a word: Hope.
As special events go, this one topped the list for many on the flight. The plane landed uneventfully on the tarmac. People left the plane exchanging addresses, emails and phone numbers. They were all smiling long before they met the relatives waiting for them in the terminal.
Janelle and Jean met Harmony’s mother, Hope. Hope signed the papers needed to release the girls into her hands and they walked the corridors telling stories of the events on the plane. Jake and Jhema ‘happened’ to walk past Hope’s line of vision as Jhema shot Hope a wide eyed, eyebrows raised look. Hope burst into laughter as Jake and Jhema disappeared into the crowd.
When the crowds cleared, Janelle bent to the two girls and began to sign and talk the best she could.
“I don’t know who you are. Not really. I want to know. The way you described ‘Papa Joe’ tells me you are from the Selway River. Am I right?”
Harmony’s face blew from quiet listening and into shock as she looked up to her mother’s smiling eyes. Hope bent to face Janelle and signed.
“I know a little more about you than you might suspect, Janelle. I know your grandfather. He is a great man. We all adore him. Papa Joe is the one you are thinking of: your grandfather’s best friend and yes, we all know Mary Proud Moon too. My girls and I tend to stay out of the lime light. We like a quiet life. You know Mary as well, correct?”
“Well of course I know Mary. Anyone who lives within twenty miles of Lowell and Three Rivers knows Mary Proud Moon!”
Jean’s face was growing into a relaxed glow as a look of profound relief covered Janelle entire body.
“Then I can see you again?”
Hope nodded silently.
Jean took Janelle’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’m going to spend the next few days at Zuccotti. I volunteer as a nurse there. I’d like you there with me. You have a way of changing people just by being with them. We need the kind of love you offer. We also need your insights.”
She turned to Hope. “Thank you for sharing your children with us. They are a delight and I will make sure to find out where on earth the Selway River is and come to visit.
Janelle pointed a hundred yards down the corridor at two young women waving at her. It was her cousins.
Simultaneously, Jean caught sight of her husband walking toward her. Jean dragged Janelle to meet him. He stood six foot six inches tall. He was a big man with a broad smile. Janelle was filled with comfort just to see him.
“Janelle, I want you to meet my husband, Captain Dave. Everyone calls him that. He’s on the New York City police force. He’ll be at Zuccotti with us . . .”
Janelle was never alone along the rivers of the Clearwater and Bitterroot Wilderness. Grandfather taught her how to listen from the inside. She heard things no one else ever did. Grandfather taught her how to feel the hands of the little ones who guided her. Invisible, gentle touches stroked her skin at intervals. She felt a warm sensation. Often the touches were followed by smiles. They were not her smiles. She felt the water spirits joy in the silent relationship. She felt love.
Occupy was several weeks in her past. She had done a lot there to help people. Nothing extraordinary . . . outwardly. She remembered one special event. It was quite small to her. It was a whispering in her head when she chose to look away from the anger and see the trees of the park . . .
“I’m always here, in your heart, Janelle. You can’t lose me, no matter how far away you think you can go. I follow you . . . like two chatterbox children on a mission. We always sing right on key, and in Harmony.”
Posted by DJ at 5:29 PM