Peace Pipe at The Crossroads
A forgotten name
A lone hiker treks, far from civilization, deep into the wilderness. Relying solely on his compass, map and skills he explores a vast mountainous wilderness. All he needs he carries on his back. Day follows night. Night follows day. Camp, trek. Trek, camp.
Nearly a week in, the lone hiker stops to set camp as the sun sets low. Taking out tools, he sets about building a small shelter and a fire. All but settled for the night., he breaks out his mess kit and begins opening a can of beans. Looking around enjoying the view he empties his can into his skillet. His face turns aghast as he looks into the skillet to see what is unmistakably the spherical round of an eye. The eye looking askew turns to stare at him.
He drops and kicks away the skillet gasping “What the fuck”.
Stepping back, never taking his eyes off the upturned skillet gasping heavily as he backs into a tree. Slowly he slides his back down the tree until he is squatting. He stays that way eyes glued to the skillet for what feels like hours until he notices the sun has set.
Slowly getting up and picking up a stick he makes his way toward the skillet and beans. By the light of the fire and using a stick he slowly flips the skillet over. No sign of the grotesque orb, he probes the beans spreading them around looking for the horror.
He finds naught but spoiled beans.
His appetite gone he settles in for the night turning his knapsack so as he can keep his eyes on the skillet and tainted beans. He fights the urge to sleep fixated on the spot as the fire dies down. Try as he might to stay awake, eventually he falls asleep.
Startled awake and quickly remembering where he was his eyes scan and find the skillet, it still lies how he left it.
Feeling as if he had a full night’s sleep he is puzzled to realize it is still night with no sign of dawn. Fumbling with his watch he is troubled that it will not illuminate. Reaching for a small flashlight he shines it on his watch to see that it is blank, as if the battery were dead. He frantically takes it off and begins fumbling with the buttons in vain, he slams it on the ground.
“What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck.”
“This is too weird. I don’t like this.” he utters aloud in the quite darkness, startled by his own voice.
On the verge of hyperventilating, “Calm down man. Breathe. Breathe.”
Focused on breathing and rationalizing with the situation, he ponders what to do.
Shining the light around only seeing endless trees “Ok there is something here I can feel it.” Nodding his head he realizes it’s time to pack and hike his ass out of this heart of darkness.
Reaching for his map and compass to plot his exit he is startled to find his compass needle jumps from point to point irrationally. He chuckles hopelessly, fearfully.
Throwing the compass and map aside he scans the woods again with his flashlight looking to find the path he followed into this hell.
His light illuminates the impossible. He drops the light and stumbles backward gasping for air. His flashlight having revealed a figure of inhuman stature, with wings black and leathery, feet of a raptor, head of ram. Visible for merely a second lost when the flashlight hit the ground and rendered inoperable.
Staring into the pith black, seeing nothing.
“You are trespassing.”
Turning toward the voice he sees what appears to be and older gentleman. Aided by a walking stick he has the look of one who has long lived alone in the wilderness.
“Shit. Man, you scared the fuck out of me.” Collecting his wits and feeling relieved at no longer being alone. “I think I might be lost, if I’m trespassing on your property l’m sorry. Just point me the way out of here and I’ll be on my way. “
No reply
“This place is haunted, man. that or I am going fucking crazy from exhaustion. “
The old man says nothing.
While gathering his things,“I mean, you ever notice crazy shit around here?”
After a brief pause.
“Lost? I hear that often. ever shall it be while Uriel guards the way. By which way did you come?”
“Yeah, you see I don’t even know. That’s what I mean by haunted. My compass wont point to north, it spins all crazy like. Oh and I didn’t see any guards. I would have heeded that, believe me. “
The old man walks toward the campfire it grows intense and then flickers almost out he sits on an old log.
“It seems I blow your flickering life span out.”
“The campfire? I don’t need it. Just point me the way out, man, and I’ll be out of here.”
“Sit.” the one without a name commanded. “By which way did you come.”
Feeling compelled to sit the hiker sits.
“I started out from the trailhead that starts near the Devil’s Bridge about six or seven days ago. I thought I was following the Bighorn Trail when I ended up here. I can’t even tell you which way I came here by.” he says as he looks around.
“Trees behind trees, how swiftly they change places.” A shivers runs down the hikers spine as the old man speaks.
The hiker scans out into trees and into the darkness, realizing he does not recognize the scenery from an hour ago let alone from his arrival.
“How wretched the moons perfect disk let’s use instead the wil-o-the-wisp.”
As he speaks an eerie glow permeates the woods. “Mammon never spares the light.”
Noticeably nervous, “I dont even care to pack. Anything here you want to can have.” And then quickly adding “Unless you want it gone, I didn’t mean to imply I was going to litter on your property.”
“Fashioned little worlds within the bigger one Judgment Day must soon draw nigh for the world is in certain decline, Faustus.
Standing up shocked on hearing his middle name an icy dagger pierces his heart. “Do I know you?”
“If my ears still behave you speak of groove or is it grave “
A flood of distant memories from past existences inundate his mind. Threads intertwined into a web at the center a most dreadful pact. A distant name recalled from time forgotten, “Gretchen.”
Swift as an arrow, the stranger was before him, face to face. The dagger in his heart radiates out into all appendages and looking down he sees that the old man’s hand having pierced his flesh disappeared into his very torso. The harbinger of death pulls back his hand to reveal a beating heart.
“Lacking faith one believes only what one sees. Measures illusion with illusion. Less worth than slaughtered sacrificial sheep. You reckon by Earthly rotations I by celestial. What worth is eternal creation when all is subject to annihilation.”
With his engine of life removed from its chassis, he slumps to his knees. I light descends from the heavens. As he passes from the world he remembers the bargain struck and the price paid.
“Gretchen.”
An ardent desire
May all beings I have killed or caused to be killed, either intentionally or unintentionally, attain nibañña. May all beings I have harmed or caused to be harmed, ether intentionally or unintentionally, attain nibañña. May all beings I have insulted or caused to be insulted, either intentionally or unintentionally, attain nibañña. May all beings I have in any way slighted or caused to be slighted, either intentionally or unintentionally attain nibañña. Even over my own attainment.
When slighted
How can one slight you if that one cannot even know you? Who is slighted? How can one know you when you do not even know yourself? For, who is slighted when you realize you cannot be slighted?
Tales of the Crossroads: Introducing the Band
Her Majesty the Cosmosship (HMC) Shannon sped through interstellar space utilizing her favorite mode of space travel, surfing gravitational waves. Her favorite waves to surf in the cosmic ocean were those from the echos of the last “big bang.” Riding the crests and troughs of those waves gave her a sense of connection to all beginnings and ends.
Her destination was a G-type main-sequence star, a yellow dwarf, in the Zeta 20 sector of the Pinwheel Galaxy. Weak radio waves from that system began arriving in Gamma sector, where Shannon was surfing nova waves for fun, about 0.00000031 zep cycles ago.
Of the many images received from those signals she was fascinated by ocean-going schooners. And so, because she could, she took the form of a schooner as she sped through space at the speed of light.
On board were Captain Mor Ty, Science Officer K, Communications Officer E.N.T., and Ambassador Cosmic C (though technically C was not onboard at the moment) . You would probably know them better as God’s V, the band behind 4 of the last 5 top hits on the Galactic Billboard.
Aside from being a sentient, shape shifting, multi-dimensional ship, Shannon also happened to be the universes’ most advanced quantum computer. In actuality she was neither a cosmic ship or super-quantum computer. Being self realized, those were the most approximate abstractions of true conceptual self and so for the benefit of other beings, she went with it. In fact, she didn’t even need a crew but she liked having one onboard as she loved seeing sentient beings explore and learn.
And as they really didn’t have duties, the crew/band spent most of their time in pursuit of knowledge or recreation (often those being one and the same).
At this particular moment Cosmic C was fishing for starfish from a kayak tethered to the stern and enveloped in Shannon’s Quanta Field. This field essentially isolated all enveloped from any QED interactions of the external universe.
The fishing line passed through a Plank Hole (actually countless P Holes but as we don’t have time to explain all the details of the science, we can move on). K was in the Observation Deck, deeply engaged in research of the dominant species of the system’s third planet. The closer they got the more current the data at her disposal. Sleeping near her feet, as usual, was Tomatillo.
E.N.T. was on the Rec Deck playing congas, a keyboard and a guitar all at the same time. He was eager to use indigenous instruments from the planet for their next song. Mor Ty was on the “Bridge” which was the name he gave to his own private quarters. Of late, he spent a lot of time there, ever since he had asked Shannon to build him a machine he code named the “Hand Job”. He got the idea for the machine watching a transmission from Earth a few light weeks away from their destination.
“Cosmic C.”
“Yes, Shannon.”
“We are approaching solar winds and we will be switching to propulsion soon.”
“Ok. Reel me in.”
Onboard, C headed to the O Deck. Walking past the “Bridge” he could hear Mor Ty’s muffled voice “.. to quit my post only when properly relieved…” This was a clear indication that Mor Ty was not only on the “Hand Job” but that he would also be done soon.
C wasn’t long on the O Deck, where he greeted K, when he was joined by E.N.T. and shortly thereafter Mor Ty.
In orbit around Earth, Shannon took her more familiar form, a perfect sphere. She was spinning at nearly the speed of light which generated a gravity field onboard. This spin also had the effect of giving Shannon the appearance of a flying saucer to any outside observer (as long as her Quanta Field was off, which at this time it was not.)
The O Deck ran center line of the sphere and provided a 360-degree projection of space.
“I have placed us in orbit and currently have access to all digital data and transmissions of the planet at your disposal.”
“It is so much prettier in person.” K said. All nodded in agreement.
“What can you tell us, Shannon?” asked C.
“As you know, the dominant species is bipedal, mostly. They like to sit a lot. Ironically, they consider themselves to be post-industrial even though industry is one of their primary existential threats as a species. The vast majority barely understand basic chemistry and are ignorantly naive in understanding the role of carbon in their own biosphere.”
“Hmmmm…”
“What is it, C?” asked E.N.T.
“I am in telepathic communication with Gaia. She likes to go by Gaia. Seems she is doing her best to preserve the species but she is in great pain and mourns for the other species. She is not sure how much longer she can hold back the carbon pendulum.”
“I’ve been studying them for awhile now. They have such potential, but for every step forward they take two back.” said K.
“Only a small percentage of the population engages in intellectual pursuit and even then some can only do so part-time. The vast majority still engage in material pursuits either out of necessity, given the societal emphasis on currency, or greed and a delusional view of self worth. The later view seems to account for 99.999% of the world’s politicians, dropping to 99.99% when considering the quote unquote “upper class. And before you ask, K, please remember the ramifications and responsibility of intervening.”
“Hmph”
“Current, technology is silicon based. There is some interesting theoretical math going on but they still have two math models of the universe and can’t seem to unify them. I have found their problem. Look here.”
“That’s funny” said E.N.T.
“How come they are still stuck on that?” asked K. “Are they not curious? Is anyone working on this?”
“A small percentage. Looking over the planets digital data vast amounts of it are compromised of two global fixations, both take blob-data form. You are looking at one now.”
“Hey, that looks like Tomatillo!” Said Mor Ty.
“They are called cats and I can understand this fixation.” replied K.
“The other blob-data, currently being projected is called…”
“Porn!” yelled Mor Ty.
“Yes, porn.”
“I can understand this fixation. Are you recording this?”
“You know I archive all incoming data, Mor Ty.”
“Just checking. Can you time stamp screen 323 for sure also 419, 420, 421, 425, 536…”
Ten minutes into his listing “… and 974.”
“Is that all, Mor Ty?”
“We are going down, right?”
“We are.” replied C.
“Ok. That should do for now.”
To be continued.
”twilight” of dusk to that of dawn
“But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest therof thou shalt surely die” - Genesis 2:17 (as quoted in “twilight”)
“When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it’s not reasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.” From preface to “twilight”
On the preface of twilight Under the Mahabodi Tree, beyond good and evil and all other dualities, In life and death, from which expectations arise sits with closed eyes, the one who realized.
Praxis Thinking announces its World News service
Praxis Thinking today announced the launch of its new Global News service. A spokesperson for Praxis reported “ Praxis Thinking’s World News (PTWN) service provides an unmoderated feed of news from sources that span the globe.”
According to Praxis Thinking, the news feed is an unmoderated aggregate of headlines from global sources. Praxis also states that the service updates stories every hour and that they run headlines for twenty-four hours.
All news service providers featured are reviewed by an editorial board which reviews services regularly to ensure their continued unbiased journalistic integrity, according to Praxis. Current service providers include: The BBC; NPR; Reuters; and several others.
Old Guy, a fan of the new service, when asked why he liked PTWN, “I don’t want some stupid-@$$ algorithm feeding me news. Don’t you see, man, that’s all part of the plan to control the masses, man.’
The new service can be found at Praxis Thinking World News
Multicast: Voices from the Crossroads. Episode 1: Eli
Introduction to the show: As our intent is to broadcast out simultaneously to all realities the many before, the many after, and the many that both exist and do not exist and finding the word “podcast” to be an infinitely narrow conceptualization we prefer to use Multiverscast or just Multicast.
The intent behind the name and reason for “Voices from the Crossroads“ is to emphasize a belief we have that it takes very little time and effort to truly get to know someone and in that time we hope to have made a friend in a fellow sentient being.
All conceptual sentient beings are always at a crossing, what changes is their awareness of conditioning. Any given encounter occurs at the crossing of past, present and future. We look forward to meeting you there. Until then, may all beings find shelter and the path to happiness. May you be happy. Namo.
Episode 1: Eli
The present author (also the voice of the interviewer in the audio) is identified by most as Gibran a.k.a Old Guy,. The subject is his son Elishah. The pretext of the interview was to help Gibran test and refine a set of core questions for the show.
Gibran was delighted to learn a few things about Eli. He was just as surprised to hear Eli’s assessment into his likelihood of assassination. Realizing that one of El’s personas is currently in a witness protection program, the last minute of the show has been edited out.
As all perceived things also exist in transcendence, you can learn more of the transcendental versions of our conversation by reading Tales of the Crossroads: Joyful Buddy Buddha