Ghost

Hunting in shadows

The ghosts of dreams, and secrets

Poison within me

Softly approaching

The muse captures the mystic

With soothing visions

Tomorrows promise

Transparent, as light as silk

The soft kiss of fate

Adrift in the void

The spirits of samsara sing

The wild, wailing wind

Touching everything

Between the heavens and earth

Specter in the garden

Brush the new flowers

Fingers bruise the dark blossom

Cut by the sharp thorns

A Homily – Matthew 10:26 - 33 ©

The Gospel According to Matthew – 2017.06.25

Do not Be Afraid

The Gospel authors should has left this passage where Jesus left it, with the exhortation to not be afraid.

Do not be afraid.

The Gospel of Jesus is not a weapon fear, it is not secretive, it is not cryptic, it is not a demarcation point, delineating the insiders from the outsiders, and the living from the dead.

The Gospel of Jesus, the good news that we have called to preach, that Gospel is built on a foundation of love of love, hope, and trust.

Jesus called everyone to the table, he did not ask for membership cards, or membership dues.

Do not be afraid.

The body passes and the spirit lives on. God, the creator of the universe, God did not create for the purpose of destroying.

God’s love flows equally to all people, not one of God’s children is outside of God’s plan for salvation.

Declarations and oaths, these are things for human beings, take none, make none, either for against Jesus.

Serve God, through the service you provide to one another, love goodness, seek justice, and exercise mercy in all things. It is through action, not words, that Jesus desire us to express our faith.

The False Gospel, Matthew’s Errors

Jesus instructed the Twelve as follows: ‘Do not be afraid. For everything that is now covered will be uncovered, and everything now hidden will be made clear. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the daylight; what you hear in whispers, proclaim from the housetops.

‘Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; fear him rather who can destroy both body and soul in hell. Can you not buy two sparrows for a penny? And yet not one falls to the ground without your Father knowing. Why, every hair on your head has been counted. So there is no need to be afraid; you are worth more than hundreds of sparrows.

‘So if anyone declares himself for me in the presence of men, I will declare myself for him in the presence of my Father in heaven. But the one who disowns me in the presence of men, I will disown in the presence of my Father in heaven.’

12^th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Emergence, In Fifty-five Words - Section Four, Kathy; Part Twenty-three, Prodigy, Collected Chapters

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 169, June 18th, 2017 Chapter One: A Funny Child Kathy loved jokes. Her laughter was the first thing her parents noticed about her. It alerted them to the fact that she was different. Even as an infant she picked up on the punch lines, understanding the spoken words, the inferences that were made. She understood these exchanges months before she had learned to speak. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 170, June 19th, 2017 Chapter Two: A Strange Child Kathy was as quiet as she was observant. She did not flit about randomly like infants and toddlers do. She was focused, balanced, and cautious. She repeated sounds and gestures in patterns that quickly became noticeable to her parents. She was training herself, quickening the pace by which she would learn to walk, and talk. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 171, June 20th, 2017 Chapter Three: A Frightening Child Kathy was crawling within weeks of being born, and walking within a few short months. By her first birthday she was dancing. Kathy practiced and practiced in the quiet moments of her day, at night, in the dark, while her parents slept. She did not speak a word until she was speaking in complete sentences. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 172, June 21st, 2017 Chapter Four: Discipline The direction for her exercises came from deep within herself. Kathy’s memories spoke to her, they guided her, the ancestral voices focused her, kept her calm, allowing her to see her own life and experiences in the context of the collective experiences swelling within her. She formed plans spontaneously, in order to realize her goals. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 173, June 22nd, 2017 Chapter Five: Conformity Whatever her parents tried to teach her, Kathy took to with ease She mastered complex tasks without effort. The only thing that took time was developing muscle memory, which required repetition. She struggled with the skill of blending in, hiding her differences. It was only through the most diligent habits of mindfulness that she succeeded. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 174, June 23rd, 2017 Chapter Six: Quietude For Kathy to get along, she learned to be silent, listen, wait, to let the others around her fail. She could not insert herself into their activity, she could not correct them, or provide the right answer. She learned to experience success as a private affair, only harkening to the applause that came from within. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 175, June 24th, 2017 Chapter Seven: Other Kathy was unique. She was different from every other human being on the planet, different from everyone who had ever been. She was still young when she realized that difference. Understanding it did not help her manage her feelings, or those of others. Her parents were afraid, afraid for her. She was like an alien. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 Section Four, Kathy Part Twenty-three, Prodigy Collected Chapters 01 A Funny Child 02 A Strange Child 03 A Frightening Child 04 Discipline 05 Conformity 06 Quietude 07 Other #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Inspiration and Futility, Alternating Between the Poles

Part VIII.

I have spoken of inspiration as a flash, a flare, a fire within, but it is more than that.

Inspiration is more than a vision that brings a small bit of joy, a quick illumination, or a fragment of understanding. If it were only that, then the vision would be a mirage, the illumination would burn as quickly as lime, and the understanding it imparted would be superficial.

Inspiration, when it is true, is a call to action. Sometimes what the inspired moment calls you to do, can be done quickly, and then it is over. Other inspired moments can call you to rearrange your entire life, while you engage with the inspiration throughout. The longer the commitment, the greater the temptation will be to yield to the inner critic and allow the inspired moment fade away under the force of futility.

You cannot escape the forces of futility. They work on the will and the imagination like entropy. Futility will assert itself and be an active part of working out your calling. And here is the thing, if you are dealing honestly with that force, if you grapple with it, you will find renewed inspiration in that struggle.

When I was working out my master’s thesis, and in the years since, I discovered that, none of my good ideas about universal salvation were new. I figured this out early in my research, many modern philosophers and theologians had written about the things that I was thinking about. I learned that every generation of Christians since the time of Christ had someone in the global community saying these exact same things.

The discovery I was making, each new voice I found was met by me with a kind of joy. It was a comfort to read their thoughts, to understand my own thoughts as an echo of theirs moving forward in time. We were sisters and brothers in the struggle to share the most poignant ppiece of the gospel, to tell the really goodnews: believe not so that you may be saved, believe that you are saved already and rejoice.

Then slowly, inexorably the weariness would set in. The resignation that came from the understanding that all of these good people, all of us, we were all like exiles in Christianity, just a tiny minority within the bigger movement.

           

The temptation to yield to futility can lead you to a seed bed of new inspiration. This is kind of like a buddy movie, where the two characters do not really get along: your inner critic and your creative self, think of The Odd Couple, of Felix and Oscar, always on each other’s nerves, and yet they are the best of friends.

At first blush, futility and inspiration seem like they are diametrically opposed, one voice is calling you to action, the other is asking you to sit down. Each would like to eliminate the other, but they are both a part of what makes us human.

Futility, like drag, will slow us down, this is not always bad, it can give us the time and space to rethink our approach, to listen, and even give us insight into how to move ahead better. Just because our inner critic is a critic does not mean that she or he is wrong.

Remember the wisdom of Brenda Ueland, when she said:

The creative power is in all of you (us) if you just give it a little time, if you believe in it and watch it come quietly into you; if you do not keep it out by always hurrying and feeling guilty during those times when you should be lazy and happy. Or if you do not keep the creative power away by telling yourself the worst of lies—that you don’t have any.[1]

Inspiration, if it is true, and we are true to it, will continually assert itself in our imagination, it will demand its place, find its voice, sometimes startling, sometimes quietly. That voice is yours, and mine. It will lead us out of the swamp, transform it into a verdant wetland, doing so in the light of our best expression, coming as fulfillment, and the radiance of joy.

---

[1] Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write, A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit: p. 46, BN publishing, 2008

Inspiration and Futility, Alternating Between the Poles

Part VII.

As an undergraduate I wrote my senior paper for my theology major on the topic of universal salvation, and then I doubled down on it and wrote my senior paper for my philosophy major on the same subject.

By the time I was done with that work, my research had uncovered some things for me.

The twentieth century had given the world many extremely intelligent, talented, philosophers and theologians who had been writing about this same topic. They were Oxford Dons, and University of Chicago Doctors, the alumni of one storied institution or another.

Their work inspired me. I wanted to lend my voice to theirs, carry on the good work, fight the good fight. However, the deeper I delved into the field, the more often I was faced with questions like this:

What is the point?

Why do I care?

If everyone is saved no matter what, why spend time and energy trying to convince people who do not believe it?

If in the end, it does not matter what a person believes, what church they belong to, why even bother with Christian Doctrine?

This is the voice of futility. It is my inner critic undermining me, attempting to convince me to give up, that the question that had inspired me was meaningless.

I learned that I was not the first person to be moved by this question, and not the first to resolve it. I learned that I would not be the last person to struggle with it.

Most importantly, I learned that there was very little that could be done to change the minds of the billions of Christians, Muslims, Jews and others who think and feel differently about our shared spiritual destiny. Most mono-theists, those who believe in some form of hell, they do not believe that God condemns people to hell because logic tells them so, they believe it because they want to believe it, because it makes them feel good.

I learned that logic, by itself, will not free them from those beliefs. 

My education was doing two things, it was arming me with more evidence, more arguments, more history. It was preparing me with expanded powers to synthesize and communicate those ideas. At the same time, it was informing me that no matter how great my dialectical powers might become, I would have little power to persuade the hearts and minds of the unwilling.

As for the willing, well, they were already with me, and that is preaching to the choir.

This is the nexus where my inspiration and my sense of futility meet, where my genius and my inner critic were hanging out inside my head. What happens in this encounter is very important, not just for me, but for everyone.

If you want to be true to the movement of the spirit within you, you may be called to stay with it for a very long time. You must listen to yourself, to the stirring in your heart, the choir that is singing there, like the bubbling of a fountain.

Inspiration and Futility, Alternating Between the Poles

Part VI.

There is an encounter that plays itself out in my consciousness over and over again. The encounter between my inspiration, and futility, by which I mean doubt about the purpose I feel that I am directed toward.

This is the dialog between my creative self and my inner critic.

For instance, I have been, and I am inspired to share with Christians the gospel as I understand it, which is a gospel centered on the hope of universal salvation.

My first encounter with this doctrine came out of my own active imagination, a discourse with my daemon, if you will. It came by thinking logically about some of the most basic claims that Christians make about God: that God is love, and loving; that God is all-powerful (omnipotent), that God has the perfect ability to accomplish God’s will; that God is all-knowing (omniscient), that God knows us, understands us, even as we know ourselves; that God is omnipresent (not, not-present in any space), that God is with us and God wants us with God.

These claims led me to the logical conclusion that, when all things are said and done, there are  no barriers to God having God’s way in the matter of our salvation.

If God truly wills the salvation of all people, which Christian doctrine claims that God does, then God will save all people.

My grasp of this argument came in a flash. It came as inspiration. It was both intuitive and revelatory, and it came when I was fairly young, at the age of fifteen.

In the ten years that followed I did not do much with this idea, except that I would using it in the occasional argument I might have with a fundamentalist Christian.

In that period there were moments when I would recapture that feeling of inspiration, but not every argument I pursued produced those feelings. When I would argue the doctrine with people who could grasp the logic, that feeling of inspiration would ignite inside of me, I would want to linger in the conversation and explore all of its implications, both in terms of human destiny, and in terms of the future of Christianity.

However, when my interlocutors could not grasp the logic, I often felt like Sisyphus, endlessly pushing that great rock up the hill. The same words and concepts that might delight me on one occasion, would on another occasion come out sounding like a drone in my ears.

Or, what was even worse for me were the occasions when I found myself talking and talking all night long, and really enjoying the sound of my voice, exalting in the feelings I got from my partner in dialog, or whoever else might be listening, but walking away at the end of it thinking that I had accomplished nothing more than the self aggrandized-stroking of my ego.

When I was twenty-five years old I was beginning to organize a research paper for my undergraduate major in theology. I deeply wanted to write about this doctrine. It was still inspiring me, and now it was motivating me to do something, to write, to research to demonstrate the validity of my claims in a formal way. I was moving beyond the arm-chair, outside of the coffee house, and though I was merely an undergraduate, I felt that I was doing real work in theology.

There was something else happening inside me as well. I was learning a lot. I was encountering more people, specifically, more educated people, people who wanted to argue with me, people who could hold up their end of the argument much better than the street corner variety of born-again-Christian.

I was also beginning to get a clear sense of the weight of history, of the philosophy of Christianity, its institutions, in its liturgy, and the power behind the traditional Christian doctrines that were arrayed against my simple logic.

It felt like that lil old ant, who thinks he can move that rubber tree plant. I had high hopes, but those hopes, and the inspired purpose that fueled them were frequently being assailed by a deepening sense of futility.

The question that my inner critic was asking me was this:

Is it possible for the most crystal-clear expression of the logic in Christian doctrine that I could change two thousand years of history and practice regarding the belief in hell and the theology of damnation?

Possible yes (I guess), but likely, no.

The creative spirit within me, my genius, was good at getting the last word, “keep working” it would say. “keep producing, keep on arguing.” 

Inspiration and Futility, Alternating Between the Poles

Part V.

I have been inspired, felt the spirit of inspiration move within me. I have been overcome by the hot flash of a great idea, felt the deep desire to act, heard the voice within me speaking; slowly, steadily, quietly; and at other times; fast, demanding, and loud. I have not always listened, but then again, I have not always known how.

The moment of inspiration can be startling. As awesome as inspiration can be, it is not always brought about by the sublime, the divine and the lovely. Truth, beauty, and goodness are not the only things that catch my attention or make me want to do something.

Sometimes I am moved by what is altogether mundane, human, and vicious, by evil, ugliness and lies. Sometimes I am moved not to stand up, but to take a stand, not to move, but to be unmoving.

When inspiration comes, the heart and the mind must be open. Inspiration may be triggered from outside of ourselves, from something we witness, such as the splendor of nature, a grand view, or a shocking event.

Inspiration may come from something small and simple, from a conversation, or a question. The moment may come, and go in an instant, leaving it up to us to make sense of its significance, to the mediation of our genius, or the daemon within us.[1]  

           

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[1] Both the Greeks and the Romans (as well as other ancient civilizations) had a highly developed notion of the duality of human nature. They each believed that our physical selves were accompanied by a spiritual being, coexisting with us on another plane of reality. The Romans called this spiritual counterpart our genius, and the Greeks called it the daemon; from these we get our terms “genius” and “demon.” A preference for Roman culture gave their word a positive connotation, and a pejorative connotation to the Greek cognate. Classical culture not only saw this aspect of ourselves as the point of contact between us and the divine realms, but the Roman word for this also means “begetter.” It is more than the aspect of ourselves that communicates inspiration, it is fundamentally the aspect of ourselves that oversees the production or the carrying our of what we have been inspired to do.

Barry B. Powell, Classical Myth, p. 631, Prentice Hall, New Jersey, 1995.   

Inspiration and Futility, Alternating Between the Poles

Part IV.

What we have discussed to this point, in parts I – III of this essay, that is the flowering side of the garden. It is the place where we love to be, when everything is growing well and going right, but there are many times in our lives, countless times, when inspiration strikes and is not received. when it is received and not acted on, when it is acted upon and is not fulfilled.

There are many forces; both within us, and without, that are opposed to the power of inspiration. They are the menial and the mundane, the day to day duties that obscure our vision, the doubts that disrupt the voice of the muse, the cold fingers of fear clutching at the heart, tearing at the will, and the hand that stills them.

The death of inspiration comes through that inner critic, the one who tells us that our work is futile[1], frivolous, and useless, the one who spreads the debris and the clutter that covers the bright and bubbling fountain within us.

The Spirit blows where it will, and reaches everyone. The muses[2] sing to us all. Whether we think of the force of inspiration as divine, as a gift that comes from without, or as an innate power that is inherent to our being, as our “true self” speaking to us. When the moment comes we must, each of us, fit it into our busy lives, either that or forget about it and watch it fade away.

Brenda Ueland says[3] that “the true self is really the Conscience (or God)” not speaking to us about “morality or convention” but daring us to explore the “truth (in ourselves) toward bravery and the greater life.” When you find that truth, she says, your true self, “and see how gifted you are, you can write as slowly as you want to.” You can let the world be the world, and not let it set you off the course of fulfilling your vision.

The weal of our life will turn, our inspiration will rise with it, if we let it. We will lift from it, and jump off it, just as we reach the apex of the curve, or the moment will pass, as we cling to the wheel, as it turns around, and down we go, pushed into the ground of uselessness and futility.

---

[1] The American Heritage Dictionary, Fourth Edition, Futile, “1. Having no useful result. 2. Trifling, and frivolous; idle.”

[2] The American Heritage Dictionary, Fourth Edition, Muse, “1. Greek Mythology Any of the nine daughters of Mnemosyne and Zeus, each of whom resided over a different art or science. 2. A guiding spirit.”

[3] Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write, A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit: p. 121, BN publishing, 2008

Slip (A Haiku Quatrain)

Tenuous at best

Tenably slipping, this grip

My fragile clasping

Through handfuls of air

Alone, awake and confused

Sanity suffers

Stretched tight and thin

Spirit on a tangled skein

Imperceptible

Desperate wailing

Crying in the dark of night

My faltering hand

Inspiration and Futility, Alternating Between the Poles

Part III

In Part II of this essay, Nobel Laureate, Doris Lessing strikes the most vital point. She addresses the need to listen, to listen to one’s self.

It is altogether easy to listen to our inner critic, that insipid, clamoring voice knows exactly how to get our attention, but how much more important, and life giving is it to listen to our creative voice, to hearken to it music, and care for it, like the gardener who cares for the tender shoot as it pokes its stem up from the soil to unfurl its fronds.

For art to find its expression we must give our creative voice the attention it deserves, turn to it rather than the noisome din of the inner critic?

We must listen to the clear pealing of the bell, whether it is faint or loud.

Brenda Ueland said this in reference to the power of listening in her essay Tell Me More:

“I want to write about the great and powerful thing that listening is, and how we forget it. And how we don’t listen…to those we love. And least of all, to those we don’t love. Because listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force.

“When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand. Ideas actually begin to grow within us and come to life…It makes people happy and free when they are listened to.

“When we listen to people there is an alternating current, and this recharges us so that we never get tired of each other. Now this little creative fountain is in all. It is the spirit, or the intelligence, or the imagination—whatever you want to call it. If you are tired, strained, have no solitude, run too many errands, talk to too many people, drink too many cocktails, this little fountain is muddied over and covered with a lot of debris. The result is that you stop living from the center…it is when people really listen to us, with quiet fascinated attention, that the little fountain begins to work again, to accelerate in the most surprising ways.”[1]

Take these words about listening, about how we feel when we are listened to and relate them to our creativity.

If we can slow down, be fascinated with our ideas, and attentive to our own needs, then we will have the time to express our creative voice.

If we listen to the stirring of the heart, that stirring will grow into a song, and then a chorus, with a symphony to follow. It will expand and unfold within us encompassing both our heights and our depths, extending itself throughout our lives while conjoining our peaks and troughs, making of them a singular unbroken wave.

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[1] Brenda Ueland, Tell Me More, Strength to Your Sword Arm, pp. 205-210, Holy Cow! Press, Duluth 1984.

Inspiration and Futility, Alternating Between the Poles

Part II.

Brenda Ueland says this about inspiration:

“Inspiration does not (in fact) come like a bolt, nor is it kinetic, energetic striving but it comes to us slowly and quietly all of the time. But we must regularly and every day give it a chance to start flowing, and prime it with a little solitude and idleness. I learned that when writing you should not feel like Lord Byron on a mountaintop, but like a child stringing beads in kindergarten – happy, absorbed, and quietly putting one bead on after another.[1]”

It may appear that Brenda has said something different or contradictory to what I said about inspiration in part I of this essay, but she and I are not necessarily speaking to divergent ends.

I have talked about the power of inspiration as a force, about its flash and dynamism. Brenda says that inspiration it is not that. I have been talking about the beginning of inspiration, she is talking about what comes after the inspired moment.

Brenda is talking about living with inspiration, about the inspired life that comes after the vision, she is talking about the falling rain, after the thunder claps and the clouds burst.

What Brenda is talking about is the more important part of inspiration. The inspired moment may fill us with vision and give us purpose, but nobody (nobody that I know of) can live out their lives in that ecstatic state.

Inspiration is like electricity. There is so much power in it. To stay in the inspired moment forever would burn us up.

The key to living with inspiration, to carrying out the inspired vision we have received, is to regulate that power. We regulate it through habit, ritual and disciplined work, like stringing beads together in kindergarten, Brenda says we must allow for some downtime, in order to give our circuitry a break.

Having space, being quiet, experiencing emptiness, these are essential for cultivating inspiration.

Doris Lessing, says in her Nobel acceptance speech[2]: “Have you found that space, that empty space, which should surround you when you write? Into that space, which is a form of listening, of attention, will come the words, the words your characters will speak, ideas—inspiration.”

Like Brenda Ueland, Doris Lessing is talking more about the care for, and the nurturing of, the creative-will within us, what I would call the expression of inspiration and the cultivation of its content. This is something that should be differentiated from the inspired moment itself.

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[1] Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write, A Book about Art, Independence and Spirit: p. 47, BN publishing, 2008

[2] Doris Lessing, Acceptance Speech, Nobel Prize for Literature, 2007.

A Homily – John 6:51 - 58 ©

The Gospel According to John – 2017.06.18

The Sacrament

The eucharist is not magical food.

Eating the bread and drinking the wine does not confer the gift of eternal life,

Christians do a disservice to the memory of Jesus when they use the eucharist to divide people from one another, splitting them into groups of insiders and outsiders.

The eucharist is not the flesh and blood of Jesus. Transubstantiation, consubstantiation, these are ridiculous arguments, based on false premises, and a fundamentally flawed view of the world, cosmologically, soteriologically and teleologically.

The eucharist may only be seen as a sacrament insofar as it fulfills the ministry of Jesus, which is always the fostering of hope, through the loving service we provide to one another.

The bread and the wine are the flesh and blood of the church, literally feeding the members through the gifts of the members, shared at the common table.

The church is the body of Christ, and the communal sharing, the gift of bread, that is the sacrament. It is the visible sign of the sacred mystery of God’s love for us.

The Bread of Life

Jesus said to the Jewish crowds:

"I am the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my flesh for the life of the world."

The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying, "How can this man give us his flesh to eat?"

Jesus said to them, "Amen, amen, I say to you, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you do not have life within you. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood has eternal life, and I will raise him on the last day. 

For my flesh is true food, and my blood is true drink. Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. Just as the living Father sent me and I have life because of the Father, so also the one who feeds on me will have life because of me.

This is the bread that came down from heaven.

Unlike your ancestors who ate and still died, whoever eats this bread will live forever."

3^rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

Emergence, In Fifty-five Words - Section Four, Kathy; Part Twenty-two, Childhood, Collected Chapters

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 162, June 11th, 2017 Chapter One: Memory From the moment she was born Kathy lived in two worlds: one, her senses; two, the larger world of memory. Her memory spoke to her in word and vision, contextualizing everything she encountered, summarizing each new experience at the speed of light, faster. Every smell, every touch, every sound was evocative. She was often paralyzed. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 163, June 12th, 2017 Chapter Two: Memories There were hidden places within her, deep places she would spend years discovering. There were languages no person had spoken for millenia. There were memories of love, of pain, and the promise of transcendence. Her memories were full of visions, visions of transformation, of her ancestors, where she was always in a state of becoming. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 164, June 13th, 2017 Chapter Three: Remembering Kathy’s memories came to her unbidden. They simply suggested themselves to her in order to frame her understanding of the events she was experiencing in real time. She experienced a dialog with the ancestors living within her, deciphering events, and answering questions in an instant. It was an atavistic process. It happened at light speed. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 165, June 14th, 2017 Chapter Four: Knowledge The new was surreal to Kathy. The more unique the event, the more fascinated she was by it. For her to witness something unprecedented was like watching a movie in a blurry, off-axis context, while the voices inside her attempted to shape her understanding of the event by providing context, offering comparisons, and suggesting similes. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 166, June 15th, 2017 Chapter Five: Knowing For Kathy, knowing things came unbidden. Details of particular points of knowledge filled her mind at quantum speed. She did not have to ponder or search her memory for anything. The meanings of symbols, and of histories, populated her consciousness in no-time. Everything she sensed was filtered through a screen of the complete human experience. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 167, June 16th, 2017 Chapter Six: Understanding For Kathy, comprehension came from beyond time and space. It came from a place within the mysteries of the atom, within the waves that make up the fabric of the subatomic field, from a place in which time and space are concepts without meaning, trillions of points of light drawn into the concrescence of insight. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 A Novel – In 55 Words a Day Day 168, June 17th, 2017 Chapter Seven: Expressing Kathy played music. There was not an instrument, or a rhythm that she did not master instantly. She sang, with perfect pitch. She spoke in her own voice, all the while sensing the multitude within her, guiding her fingers, her brushes, her pen, and her tongue. She was the living repository of all human knowledge. #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!

Emergence 2.0 Section Four, Kathy Part Twenty-two, Childhood Collected Chapters 01 Memory 02 Memories 03 Remembering 04 Knowledge 05 Knowing 06 Understanding 07 Expressing #Emergence #SuperShortFiction #365SciFi #55Words Like it, Follow it, Share it!