On a surprisingly luminous day, walking her dog in the Green Recreational Park, she was illuminated how to capture new hope and warmth in daily life and relationships. She reads the Washington Globe every day with her cup of tea. On this particular day she had enough of black and white afflictions – there is just too much bad news circulating. Where are God’s Colorful Herbs? Where will all of this lead too, she worries in her mind, we all, according to Systemic Psychology, are connected to all, still clearing off the kitchen table. Often, Sally wishes for a Media, that only spreads good news about the local environment and the world. But she knows, that shocking conditions are a needed distractions from the own idiocy- a side glance to her husband makes her even more aware of this. Every morning the same thing: Go to the bathroom, pull up the shutters, bring in the newspaper and then set the breakfast table. Her husband drinks coffee, her herb tea. Then there’s sausage for him and jam or honey for her. The dog gets his brushing tooth bone and between the two of them, nothing much essential to talk about most of the time. “Now, please don’t”, is the answer, “not at breakfast table”, “OK”, she grumbles back, busy to get the morning hunger under control. “Then, it’ll be later.”
Sally has been thinking a lot about control dramas, in the framework of the books she read because she worried about her marriage with Sam. She simply no longer wants to cope with the demands of her husband; as she sees it, his constant questioning why she does this or that, taps on her own energy level. Before she tended to withdraw, so she wouldn’t get engaged in a conflict. Questions about him or her, all of those affairs, she just refused to deal with. Her own willpower supports Sally in controlling constantly emerging self-doubts and her basic fear to be subconsciously manipulated by Sam. When she felt her energy being dragged down, she took a distance to him. She will not give up her space- she never has. She also takes care of her elderly and disabled mother. She gardens the grave of Sam’s parents for several years. At 9am it’s time to wake up her mother in the basement of the house and get her ready for the day. The old woman lives with Sally and her husband. She repeatedly says that she kept a sufficient affection for her mother. She never made a big fuss about it. The physical and mental condition of the old lady changes on daily basis. Sometimes, her mother Susan takes actively part in the now and here, and on other days her mind and body is leaking at both ends. Sally calls her also Ms. Gaga, and registers exactly when the old woman escapes to the Land of Oz The Mother-Google view holds unfathomable dangers for everyone, for her, Sally and most important for her relationship to her husband Sam. Since Sally studied Systemic Psychology “en passant”, she firmly believes that all relationships are some sort of Mobile construct that is continuously moving.
All are connected to each other and once this magnetic, radiant energy construct escapes the slipstream of idleness and boredom, the entire object starts to waver and rock the physical body. Undermined with this situation she sometimes takes walks with her mother, of course, in a very slow pace and suffers because she feels left in dismay. On her daily excursions to the exterior, the jubilant singing birds can’t touch her soul for some reason or another. Imbued with terrifying world news, the apathetic morning gestures, her stumbling behind her four-legged friend, she desires with all her heart to be able to enjoy the Green Splendor by the Creator.
She was enlightened while strolling with her dog in the neighborhood. The clean paths and streets, hardly any green wild plants to be seen – the walkways free of grasses only clean swept asphalt.
Looking out for a feather
bird’s alluring splendor
A touch of silken ease
Decoration for her path
Following the flowing force
on top feather rests light
To the spring of origin
Her lap as inspiration
attracted by femininity
To the gardens she follows her path
On gentle, reliable Earth
A solid carpet with numerous grasses
Beholds the second plume of splendor
softly firm feather, sunlight, shadow
Conscious game of hazy, open eyes
streaming power of the wind
plume loses it’s feather splendor
what remains is invisible
At night, when most people sleep, she feels safe. Some people dream, certainly not about me, she thinks to herself. Surely enough no one looks outside to watch what’s happening in the darkness, no one does that anymore. If someone watches, it’s TV.
She passed the same plants several times and planned in advance how to harvest them and transport them back to her home. The grasses and flowers in the public Recreational Parks have a considerable size. She often fixed her eyes on some. I WANTS it, ruled her head. The flower beds are located diagonally opposite to the Electric-Power-Station. They have been converted over the years to small Power-Generating or Redirecting Energy Stations. She could decode some leaking, hissing public secrets and took note of the secretes- however, she could care less about these noises. Sally can’t seem to tranquil her hunger for the grasses, herbs and flowers. It’s their delicate pliability and continuous movement, which fascinates her. In her imagination, she sees the reeds beside the bulbous perennials and next to the flowers. Public plants come into her front yard and are placed next to each other in a circle. The neighbors will think that she had invested money in her garden. The grasses will also look good dried in the winter vase. She is convinced.
Even Aphrodite isn’t as lovely and necessary as our plants on our planet! The green carpet covers Mother Earth, the actual feeding ground for humans breathing, feeding and life in general. An individual leaf holds at the bottom of each leaf up to 1 million open lips which exhale oxygen. Sally reads a lot about the “Intelligence of Plants” in a book by Thompkins and Bird, scientists, who did extensive research in this field. Sam always says “Esoteric Nonsense”. When he talks that way, Sally is no longer self-protective, because she got some clever info about it. Once she began a conversation about sex. She described a scene where sexual energy is released into the bio – atmosphere and quoted the book where the Orgones, as a fertility rite, had sexual intercourse on new fields, which actually stimulated the grass growth.
Sam seemed obviously pretty uncertain. He allegedly avoids the topic sex, for the sake of not talking about it. Sally grasps the opportunity and lectures further about what Francé, a natural scientist, knew about the secret of the plants. “Plants move so easily and freely, as most trained folks, or like Ben, the dog. People notice nothing, because they can’t see movement in slow motion. With the slow motion Natural Geographic pictures, it’s even proven that plants dance in the light. “Plant roots, she continuous quoting, dig and search through the ground, buds and twigs swing in circles, leaves and flowers take a bow and shake alternately, and tendrils looking to rotate and stretching out their ghost arms. They scan their environment”. “Francé said that nicely”, commented Sam briskly. “Stop it! You can’t see it, because you don’t take the time to watch it. You think of this as superstition and don’t realize that the plants have their origin in a material world of cosmic- beings”.
Pick only healthy, clean plants that are free of vermin and don’t collect any plants that lay in dirty, polluted waters or close to busy highways and industrial plants, she thinks to herself. Some plants are under protection. Do not press the flowers and leaves at the gathering and don’t use plastic bags for the transportation, otherwise the plant will start to sweat. She loves wild growing gardens, testimony of an act of revenge by nature. This disarray is evidence of a backlash, as a response to mankind’s excessive orderliness. The shovel in the backpack, the paper bag for storage, the backpack for the obfuscation of chlorophyll sources – safe- with her – a ritual.
She found herself so sick of the compulsion to keep everything under control, that she felt a great satisfaction carrying the stolen grasses in her backpack. Coincidence or providence; on Valentine’s Day she avoided her habitual path and suddenly was given the ultimate insight. “The plants will show you the gate to escape the tribulation”. Sally often notices that things wanting to be thought about are formally displayed before her neocortex. Even if it concerns areas of expertise, a woman her age usually is not interested in. She then thinks about who she talked to on the phone, to figure out the source of seemingly pressing thoughts.
The shovel in the backpack, the paper bag to stow, the bag to hide; the chlorophyll carriers in safety, with her, Sally.
Today small to medium-sized specimens are sufficient. Earlier in the year, she divided the garden into sections so she imagined exactly what it would look like. The first herb she dug out, turning around to check if there were witnesses, is the first harbinger of Spring, Bear Leek.
Sometime, during the summer her son Henry noticed the explosive flower splendor in the garden. Off and on he comes over for lunch to visit his parents. Sally had problems finding a plausible explanation, how all of this beauty came about. “You know that Darwin saw a brain in the worm-like radicles?”, she murmured at her son. “Plants stretch out for something; pick their destination themselves and their way! Goethe and Steiner discovered that they grow in opposite directions, partly in the soil attracted by gravity, partly in the air, as if they would move through some kind of “light force”. “Radiation of course!”, Sally completed the sentence. “Look, I planted a garden of Common Comfrey for us. And the Stinging Nettle as best Medicinal Plant ever. Albrecht Dürer drew an Angel flying towards heaven with the Nettle in hand to the “Throne of the Most High”. And over there a group of Speedwell, the salvation of all world resources! So many good, cherished properties with weird folk names like: God’s Eye and Female Fluellin. When you touch the leaves, they fall off easily- I wonder why they were named God’s Eye, if that is of any interest to you, my dear boy. The curative effect is calming nervousness and mental overexertion. I rubbed it in, under your father’s nose. Being with you, I feel through the plant’s energy you understand what your MOM speaks of. So stay with me, I still have a beautiful Velvet Lady’s Mantle bed, with the most beautiful weird names such as Jonny Jump Up (wild pansy) and Chase-Devil. A garland was decorated on the head of the Savior in Lourdsnook. St. Peter’s Wort, is also a very Catholic herb; Palma Christi, God’s-Colorful-Herb, God’s-Herbal-Grace and Goodsblood. That’s why I planted the herb bed of purple Hyacinths around it. The Dandelion should be within the bed, but asserted itself on the lawn”.
Henry had conscientiously listened to the complete sermon. Sally slowly ebbed away into the background: “It’s also called Monk Flower – there’s something about the old names”. Henry watched his mother entirely banned, picturing her as a statue in the garden- a rangy bone structure, round, weighed down shoulders, a tree-garden statue with stately size. Her long smooth, gray hair, old strong hands on delicate joints, whizzing in the garden, tenderly stroking the flowers and leaves. Comme une J. Prévert image. She has always created her own world otherwise they would be divorced, long ago, he thinks to himself quietly. When I was a child she used to face me slantways watching over me, as a clearly defined part of a whole. That was her peculiarity. Looking seemingly somehow around me, while focusing on breaking me into little pieces, legend me with her researchers view and lay a type of Corona around me. A Force Field of a different kind.
Henry, just like his father loves any kind of technical novelty. Henry’s apartment looks like a magic playhouse cave, full of electronic equipment. Magnetic phase- Feedback-Blocked Micro-Electronics on Silicon- Plates with built in Discriminators. The Lab Chief wanted to throw the modules away, because they weren’t heat resistant. Henry puzzled the electronics all out and now, his construct serves as a bridge to measure small changes in the source field with noise-reducing components. What exactly Henry does, Sally doesn’t know. Technical stuff. He works at the Institute for Atmospheric Physics and tells his mother about the danger of Red Clouds or the Purple Flow of Co2- loading and changing atmosphere, all simulated by a computer software. In his laboratory they are working on an Earth- System- Modeling- Concept, which will be the future Doctor for the sickening atmosphere. The curse, of how our way of life influences the health of our Earth, according to Henry and his colleagues; “we might not cure the problem at the root, but it will nurse it”. Henry once said to his mother: “that medicine has helped many patients”. Sally is proud of her son, and Sam literally idolizes him, although educating him never was at the forefront of his thinking. “There is certainly still a lot more healing concepts for the planet’s mantle”, Sally replied, ignoring the black side of future.
Back to back on Earth
The eyes half open lying in the grass
Look to the sky!
The butterflies free swinging wings
Alive fluent covered by light
Words to images only shells
Touching feelings, part of nature
Eyes which see the poertry of things
The undergrowth of appeal- a make believe
Shapes of masks see-throughs
Formless cycles, boundaries of being.
“Our Institute, somewhat offended by the interruption, replied Henry, just as relaxed and a little condescending, has not only awesome scientists, we designed the latest computer software, specialized for the prediction of atmospheric relevant foresight, for all societies and politics and incidentally we also won the renowned SAP Data-Technology-Prize.” My Magneticphase- Feedback –Block- Discriminator is a measuring bridge to determine the smallest changes in the atmosphere, without significant noise, electro-chemical signals or other interfering radiation. Not every Institution is capable of doing such valuable, scientific research. She definitely approves what her son sets himself as a task, but she isn’t really interested in the details. “I don’t understand it anyway”, she unabashedly admits.
I do my own research on whether plants are endowed with reason and sensitivity. “I love their transmitting emotional signals,” she says, and walks off to the kitchen where her husband waits. From the frying pan into the fire, it wanders thru her head. From Sally’s perspective, Sam has an Electrolyte imbalance or some faulty radiation going on. She feels her force field melt by signals from an incarnated computer, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in his hand. What an exciting interaction?
What does that mean for my Nervous System, she chuckles? What would a tree do? She felt an immediate relaxation of her voltage to frequency phase. “She uses this second to embrace her husband with a big gesture and whispered in his ear: “Henry is half a genius, like his father.” “How is the weather?, Sam asks, you’re still our weather prophet!” “What says the forb”? “The plant can do it better. Now, you have your answer”.
Sally goes every Wednesday to her Kundalini Yoga classes for over 7 years. This is her other pillar to thread more health, happiness and quality into their life’s. Sam grins every time she says: “I’ll update my cosmic background radiation”. “The body doesn’t stretch by itself”, she says to Sam, who once again is sitting at his computer being the captain on board. “Your glandular system would love you for stretching your toes and feet, engaging in the fire breathing gear. If you knew, how good it feels, you’d be eager to come along as my guest to the Yoga Studio. My circular flow is proof-trained”, she proudly says. “I’m happy for you that should be enough for that, actually”, while he rattles on the keyboard. “I stretch other muscles in the body, e.g. the brain mass”. “Nothing wrong with that!”, says Sally laconically. “I have offered you to come along and if you’re sure you don’t want to meet really nice, in their twenties girls, own fault.” “This is an argument, but I’m busy now and not willing to change direction. OK”! “Whatever he wants” and walks out the door.
The group is magical; it’s like all morphogenetic fields acting in concert, directing flocks of birds in ups and downs, gliding in the air together and never touching. Sally smiles. In her women Yoga group they do headstands to exercise the vital energy of the Apana- everything what is located below the navel. What’s there? Yes, the very energy that can ascend from the sexual domain to the upper pole, consciousness, to carry out the connection of Cosmic Marriage. Sally knows, and here she is not alone, that her husband is her bridegroom in the Universal Cosmos. In Real time he is in the act of stretching his neocortex together with his computer, is active in Brain- Yoga. OOO. Maybe, I can feel something, she giggles. A tingling sensation in her lap is the best resonant bottom for the brain and therefore good food for consciousness, she once read. She imagines how Sam and her get in the shower. Gentle mutual soaping, the scent of essential oils her neurons recall from memory, a long kiss, caresses everywhere, but nothing more-! She will ask later, when she’s back home again, how he felt the couple of hours without her. Fun aside, the real challenge is surely asceticism in thinking. I don’t think, so I am, true proverb of a Yogi. Only in this way, teaches the Yogi, can we avoid false consciousness content. Being a rebellion in spirit, she goes a step further. In favorable alpha-radiation background the energy level enables her to project thoughts in an infinite space. Her head turns into a theater stage flooded from above with different colored spotlights. In concert with light, dancers flowing movements create music using the laser light rays. She becomes her own audience listening to monotonous, serial sequences overlapped with delicate colors- her World of Sea head movie. During this type of head movie scenario she envisioned the yoga girls standing upright, with bent arms, protecting their heads with open palms. That’s also a way of seeing it, short comment at the edge of the universe, internally ridiculing her thinking.
Back at home, Sam watches Sally placing her yoga clothes in the closet. He observes her slim and in shape body whizzing around, seeing no sign of aging. He lightly closes his laptop to zoom in with all his attention on her. During the analysis of the Atmo-Data Henry had given him, he felt overwhelmed by a warm feeling. He noticed the sweat on his forehead. His whole body felt flooded with softness and relaxation. Sam wondered and couldn’t find an explanation, what had happened to him. Where the hell is this tsunami of emotions coming from? I’m concentrating on mere facts…I am not a pervert, someone who gets horny over numbers!
My god, Sally is right; I need to stay away from the computer. The door to the garden had been open, which, as it seemed to Sam, blew in a gentle breeze of lilac scent. Sam pondered briefly in his head, if lilac comes as a pure essential oil, while the numbers chart afterglow reflecting in his glasses? Not a clear thought was accessible to him. He felt as he had drunk from a bottle of fabric softener. Without glasses, rubbing his innocent eyes and watching his wife prowling around. Sally, master in simulating cluelessness, just waiting for the right moment to finish the Raja-Yoga experiment. Make it happen, now. Sex simply is the best food for a healthy human consciousness, the soul and of course the spirit. Pure inspiration and vitality, if spherically clever set in motion. She doesn’t feel haunted by a bad conscience – women may manipulate on an emotional level. Men need this, there is the Yin and Yang and that has proven to work out for human beings. A blur filter superimposed on the observational Sam. A slight head movement by Sally towards their bedroom, a wordless understanding…
She wants to stay the distant Muse
In a dramatic dialog the best place
A sense of flow
The logic of things
I let anything happen
Free from fear of falling
unison in the sea
sharing of feelings
playfully releasing the chains
The gentle body a rhythmic instrument
Let me caress you
Christening of a bell.
Sally lies next to her husband looking at him thoughtfully, touching his gray, full hair gently with her fingertips, savoring his relaxed smile. She thought about Sam’s passion for engineering. He is indeed absolutely top class in gathering and analyzing, she thought. Honeysuckle. You already forgot- question darts thru her mind- using the pathways of her gray brain tissue. The Perennial that has many other names; Darling, Lonicera, Devil Berry, because of its insalubrities, or even The Longer the Better. Remember, she continued thinking, what it’s all about? OOO! The plant thief, she thinks in headlines, while she plans the next foray into radiation free zones. That would create a newspaper article about someone quite different. Alley-grifters, shoplifters, bank-robbers, crooks, tax-evaders, big-data bandits and I am going to be right at the heart of it all – as the PlantThief. It is not comparable; she explains further, it depends on the type of lure. That would be comparing a hardcore porno with a love poem. A bank-robbery has nothing to do with a PlantThief, who feeds from a direct wire to the absolute Bioplasm. The energy of money should be another category of slaves. What is the matter! She gets up and listens to the message on her voice mail. It rang during the unspeakable act. Laura’s voice speaks to her. “Hi Sally. We wanted to spend a day together in the garden. You still owe me a class in your Botany. You also wanted to give me the shopping list of plants for my gardener. Call me back please.” Peep. Laura is her best friend from the Yoga Group. Her voice is very clear, with a boyish under tone and she is the only friend without an accent. A pure English without being stilted. Sally liked that from the moment they first met and she immediately thought of her as a casual noble person.
Sally’s subtle vibrations caught fire immediately, docked on and created instantaneously an attraction. When she told her the 1st time that she has contact to her thinking plants, Laura listened to it leaning back.
Sally told her that plants are very sensitive and provide a special supply of energy, and that bio-plasmatic energy source recharges her feelings. She mentioned the ‘Secret of the Plants’ book and was about to reveal all the things she read about. Things she found out about over many years. Instead of it, she fumbled around in the Astilbes. Laura works as a Geriatric Caregiver, although she had developed very ambitious, athletic performances as a young woman. Such is great theater of life; she came to believe that old people needed a conscientious care and preparation to death and she felt intuitively destined for this type of secure job. Logical. “Since I have own money, I don’t have to suffer from the poor pay for the work”. “Why care for the elderly and not become a Kindergarten Teacher”, Sally wants to know. Laura laconically explained that she once watched mothers pushing their stroller as if they were hustling with a lawn mower – with outstretched arms. She pondered a little over what she had said and added after a short pause: “This apparently signals a very special attitude of mothers. An instrument, which is useful in some way”. “I didn’t have that association, but I understand. When they bend the elbows, that’s what I observed; they remind me pushing a shopping cart. That’s also pretty weird, don’t you think?“ Sally asked.
“Why don’t you use your expensive diploma professionally? “ Laura wanted to know. The wonderful experiences during University, the memory of myself at that time, I didn’t want that to be contaminated by any wage line”. “The memory is superimposed with earning money and before you turn around all the valuable energy swallowed and lost”. “The memory’s so precious that you married a hard-working, reliable and good looking man? Is that what you mean?” “No, that is not what I wanted to say. As it is with many freshly in love, how should I describe that? He wasn’t lumbar lazy. You understand? He is quite handsome, as you probably noticed already. We found the subatomic feeling after some time. At that time, my inner voice advised me to marry Sam. Finally, little Henry was already in the tadpole stage and had made himself comfortable in my uterus”. “Funny picture”, Laura quipped, “I’m imagining Henry as a tadpole”. “By the time Sam grew up, Rick became my Loosestrife”. “Loosestrife? What does that mean, for god’s sake? I don’t know what you mean!”
“My moneyworth! We live a matrimonial marriage- I’m the gardener, and he is now worth gold to me. I succeeded planting him out of the shadows, where he slumbered in a poor, raw state of mind into a superior spot, where he tirelessly and very quickly diversified his stolons. At first, I didn’t have much to do with his subtle higher levels. In reality, he made good money, is very capable and deserves that I take care of him. Later, when Henry went to College, I had to deal with Sam’s material spirituality. These are the control dramas, Laura thought. Its creeping roots and its leaves dying off improved greatly the rough ground of the material world – money was not the problem. What I don’t want, is battling the consciousness- frequency of a Materialist”. “Why have you never desired to replace your Loosestrife by a more noble plant “, Laura asks with a smug smile to the lips.”Marital affairs bear a large pattern,” Sally said directing the conversation in another direction. “Do you know how my half-bushes withstand a frost?” “There is a means for?” Stepping down to the beautifully landscaped flowerbed Laura asks casually: “Isn’t this a Gretel in the Bush? “ “I’m impressed that you’re familiar with it, replied Sally surprised and bent over the plant. She is also called Virgin Green and feels very comfortable in company with other flowers, while she plucks a slightly brown leave from the plant. Contradicting her name she carries tons of seeds and thrives winter robust, pretty stubbornly in any soil the next years, somewhere and sometime. I sowed them once, and it seems like everything went right, because the good Virgin Gretel does her service for many years in my garden. I just had to remember what she looks like, when she was still small and inconspicuous, to not confuse her with the young, rising, yellow beets or weeds”. “Learning never stops”, says Laura and addresses Sally’s attention to the Pussy Toe field, caresses them with a long outstretched arm, softly touching them with her fingers. “Soft skin”, Sally smiles. “The plant tolerates searing heat and dryness. You are doing the right thing, zooming into the flowers that is the only way to see the entire beauty”. “Sure can’t pass by the Bleeding Heart without being impressed”. “Wow, Laura, I didn’t know you’re familiar with the names. This magnificent specimen is one of the highlights in my garden”.
Laura watches Sally as she searches for the right words, listening to her with a smile on her face. “I think it’s so graceful, how these loose horizontal leaves and the flowers float in an arc over other smaller spring flowers. You see how she lofty hovers over the Primroses and Forget-me-Nots, Lily of the Valley and Pansies”? “Floating, sounds good!” Laura laughs.
“I had a lovely dream I wanted to tell you about, by the way. I just remembered it. So, I walked in a beautiful garden with lush, velvety carpet of grass and a stunning sweet smell from a sea of flowers cajoled my nose. This is not insane”, Laura said, still enchanted by the memory. “And that wasn’t all. Bright yellow, deep dark purple, ruby red – a blaze of colors in HD- movie quality. “Please, don’t ask me for the name”, Laura anticipates the deep breath Sally was about to take, making it look like she wanted to ask a question. “There were fantastic shaped trees with skew curved tribes, apparently looking for a way to the light, with peculiar curvatures. Or, they were beaten by the storm wind so their lopsided. I remember the black bark covered with silver braiding and foliage splendor lisped softly in the wind. Unimaginably, the dream was as alive”, Laura finished her enthusiastic dream sequence description. Speechless astonishment tinted the moment in a great silence. Then came a quiet ‘wow’ from Sally’s mouth. Otherwise nothing only “wow”. Both were sitting a while- any linear time track seemed completely banned- on the wooden bench beside the small garden pond, listening to the birds, crickets and occasionally the croaking of the frogs, and thinking. “You haven’t accidentally eaten a Space Cookie?” she asks, looking at the Water Lilies.” Laura”? “No, I didn’t. What surprises me, is that I perceived the smells and colors in the dream as real. Another surprise is that my dream seems to blow your mind. You’re, I’m not negative, please don’t you misunderstand, an esoteric mind, you and your communication with plants and so”. A soft and hesitant “yes” murmurs out of the dark. “I can hardly believe that you had this fantastic dream-marvel, you know?” It’s just so wonderful, and I am so happy for you”. “Somehow that marvel experience has illuminated the last days. Hard to believe what such a dream can do “, remarked Laura still quite dreamy before they stood up and walked towards the house.”How’s your son?”. “He’s fine. Needless to say, he’s totally engaged with his Job. Troposphere, Stratosphere, Mesosphere and the low-noise measurements – he’s a scientific mind”. Did you know that according to the latest findings in science, human beings are to be considered as a Marine Life Civilization”, nipping on her coffee. “No”? “Astronauts assume that the air, the atmosphere itself is actually a kind of fluid and not, like all think, a mixture of gases”. “Good to know”, Laura says laconically, “then we are more fish than ants or something similar.” Life is a surging, opaque mystery. Let’s leave it there.
Too much thinking harms common sense and anyway fish are stupid. I brought the list, I promised. Empirically tested dealing with Dementia. You can read it; maybe it helps you in dealing with your Mama.” “Thank you! If you’re not careful, she giggles her farewell with a smile in her voice, lovely Laura, you’ll become my Beautiful Face”.”Oh, Sally, I almost forgot to say. I will be at the East Cost for a week. I need a vacation, to let go for a few days. So, don’t let the Beautiful Face in the meanwhile fade”.
A transparent band like an invisible force manipulated the fabric of harmony. Sally went back to the kitchen, brew a cup of Darjeeling and thought about whether she should do her homework and read tips by Laura dealing with Dementia, or perhaps a brief stopover in the garden? Rejecting this idea, she immediately went upstairs to her writing and sewing room. There were no plants as well as in her bedroom. As a substitute, transparent light linen cloths, abstract paintings and scarcely decorated accessories made it a sunny room. Her desk was simple. Two legs with a thick marble table top. Her sewing machine, with plenty of different modes – Sam had patiently explained it to her- lingered unused seemingly offended, in the corner. She fluently and without reading passages twice scanned the pages. Concentrated info she thought. This is so wonderful. Laura never makes a big deal out of taking care of me. Others would probably saver every sentence and turn the whole thing into an ego posse. UPS, I didn’t want to give room to such thoughts, she reminded herself. Unbleached pages filled with first hand experience- my Beautiful Face, I thank you.
How about listening to music, she thought. Polytonality- who was the master genus of it. Bartók. His Bagatelles, no. Elegies! Very good. The small stereo system waiting for the transcendent reconciliation. In the foreground the stapling of the sewing machine. The hemp-silk curtain still needs a beautiful border. Start the fun-button, switch on the sewing light, thread into upper and lower needle thread, regulate the tension, the machine starts ra-tat-tat and as by magic the curtain gets a proper rolled hem. This is pure melody. Poly modality overlaid by a mechanical ostinato. Sally feels intoxicated by this Chamber Orchestra. Listening, she got lost in sound, the colors of the material, the light that floods through the room and the movement of the needle, which precisely closes the end of the fringe. Without blinking her eyes, staring straight ahead on an up and down buzzing needle. She indulges heart and soul in musical esoteric. During all of this her subconscious is running her mind into overdrive. The OOO of things, a telephone in the hereafter. The act of doing is pure metaphysics. A successful prank the curtain will finally be completed. Without realizing it, her mother enters the room and without saying a word, she watches her daughter concentrated working on the machine. “Sally, calling with her old falsetto. “SALLY”, a little sigh, a shrug, “do you think it’s going to rain?” “What a nice dress you’re wearing, mother”, she glimpses in her directing. “Wait, I’ll turn off the stereo. I finally finished with the curtain. What did you say, I didn’t hear you?”.”I am curious about, whether it’s going to rain? ” “Looks like it, it’s cooler too”. “Should I turn the heating on? You sure dressed up. Is there a reason?” “Today is the wedding day with your dad, I dreamt of him and felt his love. He stood there, very proud with his mischievous smile. He looked like a Penguin and little birds flew around him. Then there was a faint noise, which continued to increase and then I heard beautiful music”. “He is watching over you, his spirit floats around you. So, that’s why you dressed up all by yourself in this nice, flowery summer dress? And look at these earrings! Let me see.” Sally fumbles on her mother’s earlobes. ” Are these my earrings with the emeralds, which Sam gave me for Christmas some years ago? You didn’t pilfer them out of my jewelry box?” “I don’t know where I got them from, those are mine anyway, or do you think I’m a jewelry thief!. “So, that’s what you think about your mother, I’ll keep that in mind. That’s outrageous as well.” “We’ll leave it at that mother, all good. OK? Come along I’ll make dinner, you can of course keep the earrings they look good on you”. With her mother on the arm, she goes into the kitchen and withdraws out of further conversation. Sedulously she starts laying the table and preparing dinner. Maggy eats mostly bread with sausage or cheese, and a cup of Chamomile tea with honey.
After dinner, she helps her mother dressing for bed. As she walks through the living room into the entrance hall, where the stairs go up to the first floor, she sees a plastic bag, which was hidden under the stairs. Not thinking further she accompanied her mother in the bedroom and as every evening the two women speak a short evening prayer together. On the way back, she grabs the plastic bag and finds a little surprise- a houseplant, which used to stand in the living room. That can’t be true! At first, an annoying feeling grew inside but that didn’t last long. Then, she felt totally overwhelmed finding a coherence and then she was attacked by a not to be controlled laughing- her entire body began to tremble. Sally found another six bags that evening with house and garden plants in them. Sam said laconically: “Shall I dispose the bags?” “No”, Sally stuttered, searching for words, “I’m going to plant them in a larger pot and better soil. Leave it, I’ll take care of it”.
What had happened? Sally slowly recalled everything in her mind’s eye. Her mother’s bedroom is located on the west side, with large windows to the garden – which means; She could have seen me during my activities. But why would she root out the plants? There are certainly demented old people that do such unexplainable things. You don’t get far with rational thinking. But obviously she felt very close to father, because she had dreamt of him and wanted to celebrate their wedding anniversary. With my earrings, which mother immediately denied. Sally was just going to lay in bed as Sam stood in pajamas and a toothbrush in hands at the doorway. “What’s wrong, he asked, why are you sleeping in the guest room?” A millisecond fast wink of an eye, a flash of inspiration. Sally zooms in on the semicircular, black circles under Sam’s finger nails. Pause, answer: “No, my dear, that has nothing to do with you, I need more room for sleep. You know me”, Sam gave her a little kiss on her cremed cheek and went back into the bathroom. It was Sam, he had dug out the plants and left the bags at various places in the house. He knows the secret and sets out a sign to stop it. An invasion in her view of freedom, to do that, which brings amiability into life which guides best to her own essence.
Stiff and hurt Sally’s thoughts turn in an endless loop, which gives her a strange dizzy feeling in the head, almost weightless, she couldn’t think straight. Microscopic, contrapuntal operations throughout her whole brain. A mysterious, alien world crystallizes in Sally’s sleep phase, a threshold in a strange dreamlike landscape opens. Half familiar figures emerge from the mist in her subconscious mind. She immerses herself into the shadow world and is overlaid by non-human realms. Sally’s slow-wave-sleep-phase dream landscape turns into an experiential surface; Whispers, murmurs, submerging her perception. Abstract light patterns, circles, negative exposures appear before her closed eyes. Sally flies like an astronaut through the parallel world of sleep, dashes in breathtaking ups and downs. Virtually crumbling, barely perceptible atmospheres and adventurous flow through her on her journey in an alternative universe. Waking up in the morning she found herself back to the starting point; the cycle of everyday life can begin anew.