An Idea that became a cosmos

[melanie]

Hi Melanie,

Thank you for good and deep thoughts.
I have no problem reading them and seeing where you want to go.
But this forum is not meant to go where you are pointing to;
this forum wants to find the scientific ToE and when pronounced propagate it.

OK Fredrick,
I'll let the Forum decide where it want's to go.

Meanwhile gotta fly, see ya a_round.
When i get a round tuit, that is.

Forums hey!
For-um or against them, who knows.

[austintorn@aol.com]

Rascal, after changing back to his work clothes, remotely blew off all the explosives on the prison roof that would have aided and covered his escape into the sky. Luck would have its way now or not. Glorious Defeat was long overdue, but was now looming at the cell door.

All hell soon broke loose, the minimal night guard shift running in total up the stairs toward the roof. Some smoke and flames shot out of the heating vents. Rascal quickly finished the lasering of the cell bars that he had previously nearly cut all the way through, then carefully put them back as a kind of joke on whomever leaned against them. Then he quickly lasered the stariway door to the roof shut, welding it totally inoperable, then ran down the hallways with the evacuating work crews.

ELF waves went out from Niihau to the fleet and the hunt was immediately underway. They plunged into the dangerous depths of the ocean trench. Go too deep and you would never come back. The Conspiracy sub was perhaps a suicide sub, nearly in it place, after probably following the deep trench for a day or so, from which it could never surface, but could still launch from, its missiles unstoppable at such a short range.

Arriving at the front door checkout station with the work crews, Rascal could see ‘freedom’ outside, but there was a holdup—the prison was going to lock down. No one would leave, although a few already had.

These intermediate times of chaos and uncertainty were the best times to act, so Rascal fired his mini machine gun into the checkout station, blasting the door window beyond, too, then dove through it and ran on out the next to last door that led to the lobby, carefully welding it shut afterwards, imprisoning all within, prisoners of their own prison.

Startled would-be visitors hit the floor as Rascal raced out the main doors, welding them shut, too. Fire engines and police were already racing toward the prison and the officers would surely round up anyone wandering about outside this disaster.

Rascal looked up at the guard towers, expecting to be shot, but the men in the towers were now all looking inward to the roof that was in flames. My Kingdom for a horse, he thought.

He gently removed an old lady from her car and drove off leisurely toward the oncoming emergency vehicles, even pulling to the side of the road so that they could easily pass, and stayed there. The police would soon be upon everyone, their emergency escort duties having greatly diminished.

There was a grove of trees, with huge mountains beyond. There could be no more driving, of course, since there would be roadblocks everywhere, not to mention the checking of anyone who drove at night in this suspicious country. The elegance of his former escape plan had escaped as well, but here he was, breathing the air of the free.

Rascal crawled along the ground, then crept through the beginning of the forest, and was soon up and onto the slight slope leading to the mountain top. The news of a wild worker blasting his way out would soon be known to all, so Rascal took off his work clothes and then rolled them up, covered them with mud and threw them down a deep gully. No use leaving any ready clues, although the dogs would find them eventually.

He laughed at himself now, being clad in bright prison orange. He got rid of his over shirt, then cut his pants into shorts and turned them inside out. In glee, he noted that they were still grey inside. He now looked like kind of a normal person out for a stroll instead of a target.

There could be no more radio transmissions; he was on his own. Up the hill and then the mountain steep he went, steadily but unhurriedly, for there was no need for exhaustion yet. An hour later he was close to the top. Which way to go? My Kingdom for a moment to activate my cell phone and check its GPS, but it would have been a death warrant, for the total story of his treachery was probably already well known within the prison and without the land. No rescue party could venture forth now.

(Puff the Magic Dragon)

Not willing to risk the main trail, Rascal took off on a deer trail, for they knew what they were doing. US satellites would have detected the prison’s problem by now, indicating to the Ninja Empire that Rascal’s plans had changed. Putting distance in between was now the chief objective, so Rascal moved quickly, ever onward, sensing direction from the stars of the night sky. These, the fires of home, would guide him to his end, for whatever had brought him here would have to take him home. His time on Earth as a shimmering rainbow of stardust had been unsurpassable.

He had walked for 40 hours, living on water from streams, plants, and edible berries. The second night was at hand, the best time for travel, and so he did another 12 hours, then made a cover and slept for 12, now half dead.

Death retreated, as its fair brother—sleep—restored him to health. Now where? Though thousands of miles through the motherland? He would risk a three-blip signal in another day or two. He walked on. Several times Rascal heard helicopters approaching and had to hide, noting the fully armed ships and the Russians inside peering out.

After 4 more days, they came no more.

Meanwhile, near Oahu, the subs had long since quickly found the attacker sub and had turned it into a tomb. A remote probe would be sent down to learn the secrets of the deep.

Too weak to continue, Rascal sent out the blips and waited. How the heck was someone now going to land in Russia unnoticed and rescue him? But then again, he knew they would try. He slept for 20 hours.

Three days passed, Rascal staying put, gathering strength for the journey of a thousand miles that would soon have to begin with a single step. Russia didn’t like any interference and was probably on alert everywhere out of habit of its paranoia.

An older, but fully armed Soviet era helicopter gun ship approached and quickly passed over as Rascal peeked at it from some bushes. They were going someplace else and not looking for me, he noted.

Yet, it soon returned and landed nearby. If they had discovered him, more troops would soon be sent into the area. So, this was the end then, of my time in the middle of nowhere within the greater nowhere in a spiral arm of the Milky Way, Rascal surmised. I should have kept my desk job.

(Next time: Rascal is gone—to a place in the sky—where the flora symbolica flourish in their fragrance for the good ascended.)

[Fredrick]

OK Fredrick,
I'll let the Forum decide where it want's to go.

Meanwhile gotta fly, see ya a_round.
When i get a round tuit, that is.

Forums hey!
For-um or against them, who knows.

Thank you, Melanie, for I think we understand each other. For-ums, against-ums or none of the above!

[austintorn@aol.com]

(A GrandMaster's Thoughts of Rascal)

Friend

Art thou abroad on this stormy night

on thy journey of love, my friend?

The sky groans like one in despair.

I have no sleep tonight.

Ever and again I open my door and look out on

the darkness, my friend!

I can see nothing before me.

I wonder where lies thy path!

By what dim shore of the ink-black river,

by what far edge of the frowning forest,

through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading

thy course to come to me, my friend?

(Tagore)

[austintorn@aol.com]

The Angel of Light finds Rascal to bless,
And says: “Old Puff, I must soon repossess
Your clay, so let us drink to your success!”
He drinks and smiles, ready for Life’s last caress.

Old Rascal reclines on the grass, near death.
The Dark Angel arrives and to him saith:
“Drink one last deep drought from Life’s precious cup.”
The Puff smiles and sips, then breathes his last breath?

[austintorn@aol.com]

Rascal is alone amid the splendour of mountainous nature
on the beauteous earth as the enemy closes in…

Russian eyes are everywhere for a thousand miles in all directions…
looking for anything unusual…

'00' is all over the place on the Russian roulette wheel…
Snake eyes roll…

[austintorn@aol.com]

“What the…!”

Robert stepped out of the Soviet helicopter saying, “Rascal, come out from wherever you are!”

“How did you guys get this…”

“You don’t want to know. Hop aboard. It's old, but we tuned it up well.”

There was a meal of hot lobster and drawn butter waiting for Rascal, compliments of his Master, and so he enjoyed this manna of the Gods as they began the long and perilous journey to the coast.

“Do we have enough fuel, Robert?”

“Maybe, maybe not, but we will fly at low altitude to avoid curiosity and to conserve fuel. We added extra tanks, but….”

“…I hate the uncertainty principle.”

“We’ll be looking for a Nato freighter pulling out of port…”

“We can’t land on that.”

“No, but we will anyway.”

“Who made this plan?”

“It was the best we could do on such short notice. I even took the weekend off from work.”

“I see no pursuit. The Russians must have heard my blips.”

“They did—or just about did, as we knew they might, so we instantly sent out blips by remote control from transmitters all over the place. Fortunately, they’re still tracking down the wrong ones, or have given up.”

The helicopter servred unexpectedly. “Do you know how to fly this thing, Robert?”

“No, for the pedals are reversed.”

“You are getting used to this?”

“Heck no. I reversed my feet, crossing my legs over.”

“Crikey!”

Many hours later, they were on approach to the coast, the fuel gauge already having read ‘empty’ for the last 20 minutes.”

“Robert, how are we running on no fuel?”

“As with new American cars, the gauge is offset ahead a bit so one have time to get to a gas station.”

“This is not a car and we are in Russia and we are a using an old Soviet machine.”

“Oops.”

They cleared the coast but the freighter was not in sight.

“Now what?”

“They freighter probably got delayed by typical Russian red tape. It may be yet coming out of the harbor though.”

“Do we have any subs around?”

“Not this close in.”

“Are we heading out to sea?”

“Yes, we can float on a raft.”

“There’s a huge storm coming in.”

“OK, we’ll turn around.”

“You were going to do that anyway.”

“Yes, better to float on a raft closer to shore.”

The helicopter then gained as much altitude as it could; then the fuel gave out.

“Great Mother of England.”

“Hold on, I see her racing out.”

“We’re going to land on a freighter without a landing pad with no fuel?”

“The rotors will slow our descent.”

“Not good enough.”

“I turned off the fuel when I heard a sputter; we probably have about 30 seconds worth left.”

“And you’re going to turn the engines back on just in time.”

“Yes.”

“You are certainly a fearless leader, Robert.”

The freighter was just making it into international waters, running at flank speed now, with the gliding copter heading dangerously downward for it.

“Is this going to work?”

“No sweat; I play video games.”

“Cripes. Is the freighter going to slow down or stop?”

“No, that would look suspicious.”

“Double cripes.”

The two moving crafts were converging rapidly.

“I never thought calculus would be of any use, so I didn’t take it.”

“Neither did I.”

“Crimey sakes.”

“Where did you get these ‘cripes’ things? You’re not from Australia.”

“I get them from ~ boots ~.”

“Oh.”

The helicopter was literally spiraling down to the rendezvous to crash as Robert restarted the engines, slowing it somewhat, then a bit more. The freighter crew had removed some railings to give some more room to land. The copter hovered, then fell the last few feet as the fuel gave out, then slid a few feet over toward the open edge, the right side hanging out over the sea.

“Quick, Rascal, move to my side and follow me out.”

They got out and noted the helicopter teetering and tottering.

Robert put one finger against it, pressing no harder than the force of a butterfly’s wing flap, and sent it sliding into the sea.

“Don’t need this piece of junk anymore.”

“Have to get rid of the evidence anyway.”

“Robert, I’m going to wring your…”

“…I’ll close one of your threads.”

“OK, never mind.”

…

As Rascal landed on the helo pad in Niihau, he thought, My God, it’s been over five years since I’ve seen my old Master—where did the time go? Whence have all these roots of evil sprouted?

The scent of hibiscus blossoms flavored the balmy air. It seemed like heaven.

(The Three Fates)

GrandMaster West walked out slowly but surely, now using a cane and ethereally framed by the glow of the setting sun. He looked much older, although still vibrant with a kind of deep calm, if those two traits could be present at the same time. A cascade of wondrous memories swept over them both, of the early days, the tough days, the triumphs and the glorious failures, but ever always with the everlasting gladness of life’s being washing over them with its goodness.

“I heard that you took a very long walk, Rascal, for one of your age.”

“I had to, but it was indeed grueling, Master.”

“Goodness drove you on, for in that there is strength.”

“I suppose it did.”

“I have to pull you off Field Command.”

“What? I love this job; well, maybe not the last two weeks.”

“You were the best.”

“Why then?”

“I’m giving you my job; you are now #1 West.”

“Huh?”

“I am fading; I am 99 years old. Good things end… when better things become… for you.”

“What! You don’t look it.”

“I kept in shape and ate right, but now the time has come, although I will still be around here for a little while to show you the ropes.”

“You could live another 10 years.”

“Perhaps.”

Rascal felt a presence behind him, but didn’t turn around.

“A thousand monks have just crept up” Rascal surmised out loud.

“They are our third graduating class; tomorrow, they go forth to the four winds to keep their eyes and ears open; they will even sense without turning about.

“The world yet rolls like a snowball toward the Gates of Hell.”

Half of the monks came around behind the Master’s side to form a complete circle, 5 rows deep, bowing both to the new and the old #1’s.

“How will I do this, Master?”

“Rascal, remember when you first came to us, so long ago, having ridden far and alone on a bicycle in the dark?”

“Yes—I could never forget that night.”

“It’s the same now, only you ride in the light.”

“Master, who is that man yonder, sitting on that hill?”

“He is our founder, Thomas Veil. He will visit with us shortly.”

“’Nowhere Man—no one has ever seen him.”

“None but us.”

Trish, #1 East, materialized somehow, next to West, her shimmering form changing to Nona, the thread spinner of life, then back, or it was just in Rascal’s imagination.

“GrandMaster East, you sent the chopper… Thank You.”

“We thought we would cut you some slack.”

She took a step to the side as the Master removed his sword lightning fast, holding it aloft.

Rascal held out both hands, worried that he might lose an ear as the sword came down on his shoulder, but it was already there, Rascal not having seen it move. The Master then laid the sword in Rascal’s hands.

“I accept the job, Master, and swear to protect the Earth and its people.”

“More than that, Rascal, old friend—eternity. You are a guardian of forever—and now stand at the edge of the abyss, warding off the oblivion of evil.”

“Where will I find you after you leave here, Master.”

“I will be with the wind and flow as the water—and so you shall know me when you feel the breeze and quench your thirst in the stream.”

Light

Light, my light, the world-filling light,

the eye-kissing light,

heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life;

the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;

the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.

The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light.

Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.

The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling,

and it scatters gems in profusion.

Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling,

and gladness without measure.

The heaven's river has drowned its banks

and the flood of joy is abroad.

(Tagore)

[austintorn@aol.com]

The Mystery of the Enigmatic Riddle

To learn the Secrets—what IS and ev’r WAS,
One must brave the crypt and ghost of cause…
So, into the deep, we go, without pause,

To look down, ever down, no self to keep—
Through birth, death, and the shade of sleep,
Through paths unkempt, underswept—to the deep,

Through the cloudy strife
of this hazy life,

Past the realm of the things which seem or are,
Even o’er the steps of the remotest bar.

Down, down! Where the mind whirls round and round,
Down, down! As the ear draws the sound,

As the eye the light,
as the dark the fright,

Beyond all death, despair, love, and sorrow,
Past yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
The body’s guide but the spirit of the soul.

Down, down! Through the fog, the not, and the void;

Down! Where reigns the night and the air is thin,
To where sky and stars are not, but within,

Where the radiant have not their throne,
Where there is one pervading, all alone.

Down, down! To the fathoms of the cryptic;
Down, down! Where substance slept with arithmetic,

Toward the spark yet nursed by embers,
To the first and last that Life remembers,

To seek the gem that shines—the wealth of mines,
The jewels so treasured by thee and thine.

Down, down! We guide thee, we must carry thee;
Down, down! We’re illumination beside thee…

Fear not the proof—it’s the beauty of truth:

Here, the enigma of the immortal
Is undone and unloosed, through life’s portal—

The Theory of Everything mortal—
An Idea That Became a Cosmos.

[~boots~]

Hiya Austin..I finally found it
Now off to find out *why*

[~boots~]

“What the…!”

Robert stepped out of the Soviet helicopter saying, “Rascal, come out from wherever you are!”

“How did you guys get this…”

“You don’t want to know. Hop aboard. It's old, but we tuned it up well.”

There was a meal of hot lobster and drawn butter waiting for Rascal, compliments of his Master, and so he enjoyed this manna of the Gods as they began the long and perilous journey to the coast.

“Do we have enough fuel, Robert?”

“Maybe, maybe not, but we will fly at low altitude to avoid curiosity and to conserve fuel. We added extra tanks, but….”

“…I hate the uncertainty principle.”

“We’ll be looking for a Nato freighter pulling out of port…”

“We can’t land on that.”

“No, but we will anyway.”

“Who made this plan?”

“It was the best we could do on such short notice. I even took the weekend off from work.”

“I see no pursuit. The Russians must have heard my blips.”

“They did—or just about did, as we knew they might, so we instantly sent out blips by remote control from transmitters all over the place. Fortunately, they’re still tracking down the wrong ones, or have given up.”

The helicopter servred unexpectedly. “Do you know how to fly this thing, Robert?”

“No, for the pedals are reversed.”

“You are getting used to this?”

“Heck no. I reversed my feet, crossing my legs over.”

“Crikey!”

Many hours later, they were on approach to the coast, the fuel gauge already having read ‘empty’ for the last 20 minutes.”

“Robert, how are we running on no fuel?”

“As with new American cars, the gauge is offset ahead a bit so one have time to get to a gas station.”

“This is not a car and we are in Russia and we are a using an old Soviet machine.”

“Oops.”

They cleared the coast but the freighter was not in sight.

“Now what?”

“They freighter probably got delayed by typical Russian red tape. It may be yet coming out of the harbor though.”

“Do we have any subs around?”

“Not this close in.”

“Are we heading out to sea?”

“Yes, we can float on a raft.”

“There’s a huge storm coming in.”

“OK, we’ll turn around.”

“You were going to do that anyway.”

“Yes, better to float on a raft closer to shore.”

The helicopter then gained as much altitude as it could; then the fuel gave out.

“Great Mother of England.”

“Hold on, I see her racing out.”

“We’re going to land on a freighter without a landing pad with no fuel?”

“The rotors will slow our descent.”

“Not good enough.”

“I turned off the fuel when I heard a sputter; we probably have about 30 seconds worth left.”

“And you’re going to turn the engines back on just in time.”

“Yes.”

“You are certainly a fearless leader, Robert.”

The freighter was just making it into international waters, running at flank speed now, with the gliding copter heading dangerously downward for it.

“Is this going to work?”

“No sweat; I play video games.”

“Cripes. Is the freighter going to slow down or stop?”

“No, that would look suspicious.”

“Double cripes.”

The two moving crafts were converging rapidly.

“I never thought calculus would be of any use, so I didn’t take it.”

“Neither did I.”

“Crimey sakes.”

“Where did you get these ‘cripes’ things? You’re not from Australia.”

“I get them from ~ boots ~.”

“Oh.”

The helicopter was literally spiraling down to the rendezvous to crash as Robert restarted the engines, slowing it somewhat, then a bit more. The freighter crew had removed some railings to give some more room to land. The copter hovered, then fell the last few feet as the fuel gave out, then slid a few feet over toward the open edge, the right side hanging out over the sea.

“Quick, Rascal, move to my side and follow me out.”

They got out and noted the helicopter teetering and tottering.

Robert put one finger against it, pressing no harder than the force of a butterfly’s wing flap, and sent it sliding into the sea.

“Don’t need this piece of junk anymore.”

“Have to get rid of the evidence anyway.”

“Robert, I’m going to wring your…”

“…I’ll close one of your threads.”

“OK, never mind.”

…

As Rascal landed on the helo pad in Niihau, he thought, My God, it’s been over five years since I’ve seen my old Master—where did the time go? Whence have all these roots of evil sprouted?

The scent of hibiscus blossoms flavored the balmy air. It seemed like heaven.

(The Three Fates)

GrandMaster West walked out slowly but surely, now using a cane and ethereally framed by the glow of the setting sun. He looked much older, although still vibrant with a kind of deep calm, if those two traits could be present at the same time. A cascade of wondrous memories swept over them both, of the early days, the tough days, the triumphs and the glorious failures, but ever always with the everlasting gladness of life’s being washing over them with its goodness.

“I heard that you took a very long walk, Rascal, for one of your age.”

“I had to, but it was indeed grueling, Master.”

“Goodness drove you on, for in that there is strength.”

“I suppose it did.”

“I have to pull you off Field Command.”

“What? I love this job; well, maybe not the last two weeks.”

“You were the best.”

“Why then?”

“I’m giving you my job; you are now #1 West.”

“Huh?”

“I am fading; I am 99 years old. Good things end… when better things become… for you.”

“What! You don’t look it.”

“I kept in shape and ate right, but now the time has come, although I will still be around here for a little while to show you the ropes.”

“You could live another 10 years.”

“Perhaps.”

Rascal felt a presence behind him, but didn’t turn around.

“A thousand monks have just crept up” Rascal surmised out loud.

“They are our third graduating class; tomorrow, they go forth to the four winds to keep their eyes and ears open; they will even sense without turning about.

“The world yet rolls like a snowball toward the Gates of Hell.”

Half of the monks came around behind the Master’s side to form a complete circle, 5 rows deep, bowing both to the new and the old #1’s.

“How will I do this, Master?”

“Rascal, remember when you first came to us, so long ago, having ridden far and alone on a bicycle in the dark?”

“Yes—I could never forget that night.”

“It’s the same now, only you ride in the light.”

“Master, who is that man yonder, sitting on that hill?”

“He is our founder, Thomas Veil. He will visit with us shortly.”

“’Nowhere Man—no one has ever seen him.”

“None but us.”

Trish, #1 East, materialized somehow, next to West, her shimmering form changing to Nona, the thread spinner of life, then back, or it was just in Rascal’s imagination.

“GrandMaster East, you sent the chopper… Thank You.”

“We thought we would cut you some slack.”

She took a step to the side as the Master removed his sword lightning fast, holding it aloft.

Rascal held out both hands, worried that he might lose an ear as the sword came down on his shoulder, but it was already there, Rascal not having seen it move. The Master then laid the sword in Rascal’s hands.

“I accept the job, Master, and swear to protect the Earth and its people.”

“More than that, Rascal, old friend—eternity. You are a guardian of forever—and now stand at the edge of the abyss, warding off the oblivion of evil.”

“Where will I find you after you leave here, Master.”

“I will be with the wind and flow as the water—and so you shall know me when you feel the breeze and quench your thirst in the stream.”

Light

Light, my light, the world-filling light,

the eye-kissing light,

heart-sweetening light!

Ah, the light dances, my darling, at the center of my life;

the light strikes, my darling, the chords of my love;

the sky opens, the wind runs wild, laughter passes over the earth.

The butterflies spread their sails on the sea of light.

Lilies and jasmines surge up on the crest of the waves of light.

The light is shattered into gold on every cloud, my darling,

and it scatters gems in profusion.

Mirth spreads from leaf to leaf, my darling,

and gladness without measure.

The heaven's river has drowned its banks

and the flood of joy is abroad.

(Tagore)

aahhh...it's one of those threads...

The ones where nothing makes sense
I like those...I think...

I need to go and think of something profound...
(since we know, that'll NEVER happen, I'll just butt in and dribble...)

as I do