What do people read novels for? To escape for a while! To experience another world, or reality, which is more emotionally satisfying than the one we are in now. Sadly, at the end of the day, the novel isn't real, and when the book is done, we have to come back out of it. But here's the catch - what if you read a novel that was more real than the world you were living in right now? What if you didn't have to come back out?
How is that possible? It is very possible. Worlds are constructed through language, that is how books work. After we are born, and acquire speech, we enter into the shared world through language, and so we live in a sort of "spoken book." Language creates our social reality, otherwise we'd all just go around pointing and grabbing! As I mentioned in my first post, there is an error at the base of our language which orders all the pairs in the world into opposites - eg. opposite sex, opposite side of the room, opposite arm (just pay attention to your speech, or anyone on the bus, and you'll frequently here the word "opposite" being used), when these things are not in fact opposites, because they are not two kinds, they are two of a kind - opposites are two separate things with nothing in common, whereas man and woman have a body in common, the sides of the room have the room in common, and the arm has the other arm in common. Quite obviously, what these dualism are, are one thing presented differently, not two different things. Our language system is actually based on only a half accurate order - "opposition" takes into account difference, but the word does not take into account shared equality; its meaning neglects what is common.
Theoretically, then, any language system which corrects this "error of opposition", and say, creates a new word - eg. equasition (meaning equal-opposites, or two of a kind, hybrid entities with a shared core feature) formally, would be closer to reflecting the physical world as it actually is - thus, would be a world created through language closer than the one we speak about today. Another world entirely. How cool is that? Worth reading a book on it? I THINK SO.
If so, my novel,
Time of Completion: The Search for Meaning is for you.
Here is the first Chapter:
Prologue
In the beginning, there was… nothing.
But every action has an equal and opposite
reaction: there was also... no possibilities.
And equal and opposite to nothing and no
possibilities, was… nothing to order: chaos, and no connections to make:
illogic.
These four things: nothing, no possibilities,
chaos and illogic, came together to create four things equal and opposite to
themselves: matter, order, possibility and logic.
The physical and the metaphysical, or, the
metaphysical and the physical.
Modern science gives the event one name: The
Big Bang.
The ancients gave the event twelve names:
Aries, Taurus, Gemini, Cancer, Leo, Virgo, Libra, Scorpio, Sagittarius,
Capricorn, Aquarius and Pisces.
These four things brought change and time began.
12 Stone
The sun was playing a game.
It was the game of human consciousness.
The game lasted just under 26’000 years, culminating
in the year 2012, when the December solstice sun aligned with the galactic
equator, the midline of the Milky Way. The solar journey had already led the
rise and fall of three World Ages, each one bringing with it a single
transformation of perspective. For the Mayan’s, the naked-eyed sky watchers of
Mesoamerica, who’s calendar, engraved in stone, counted down to this cosmic rebirth,
the greatest renewal of human awareness was promised at the end of this Fourth
World of Water, with the sun’s final return to the place it had first started
in the “Dark Rift”, the feature caused by interstellar dust that runs northward
along the Milky Way from the Galactic Centre. The sun was closing in on its
home along the Maya’s “Dark Road”, to the centre of the galaxy, this portal to
another world; the cosmic womb where all stars are born, from which everything
in the galaxy came from, including humanity and the earth; the search for
meaning was almost over, and at 11.21am 21st December 2012,
everything would come together and the journey to understanding would be complete.
For three thousand years, on what is known as
Salisbury Plaines, a great circle of stones stood still, silently observing the
passage of time, the meaning of their arrangement a mystery to anthropologists,
who, slowly, drew the conclusion that, because of the alignment of the entry
stones with the rising and setting of the sun on the midsummer and winter
solstices, it may have been an astronomical observatory; however understanding
of the message encoded within it still remained largely obscured. But, as the
sun’s journey neared its end, all was about to be revealed, and everything
would be brought to light.
Those who constructed the circular monument,
Stone Henge, did so on an intersection of 14 ley lines of high magnetism,
fertile with earth energy; it was once a place of healing and kingship rites, a
vortex opening into the wider cosmic universe. However, as the precession of
the earth’s cycle caused the planet lean away from Galactic Light, the vital nourishing
energy emanating from the heart of the galaxy, the connection to divine
consciousness closed, seemingly non-existent, as if it had never been there in
the first place. But as the procession of the equinox progressed, and earth reoriented
on its axis in the other direction, light began to return to earth, and the
connection was reopening.
Pisces was the first energy to enter through the
channel. The sun’s rays shone through the parallel entry stones upon a figure
coming to life. The moisture
in the air condensed until it had created a human form, slim, soft, as if with
eyes just awoken from sleep. A wave of energy spread outwards from one central
point, giving mass to all matter in the creation of this new universe.
Pisces blinked, the large stones floating into
focus. He lifted his
face up, and squinted at the sun above him, on its ascent to the highest point
in the sky’s hemisphere before it would stand still, and then make its descent
along the southern horizon. In his unconscious, he had the feeling it was the last
summer solstice in the Fourth World, or, his age, the Age of Pisces.
The wind blew across Pisces’ damp skin,
stroking the dusting of silvery scales across his naked body, across his chest,
his stomach, between his legs, over his thighs.
He turned to lay a hand on the closest stone,
feeling its strength beneath his palm. When he pulled his hand away a wet print
was left against it.
Pisces blinked again. He rubbed his head,
riling up his mess of blond hair even further. He felt as if he were in a
dream. Pisces was a water sign… leaving
wet hand prints probably shouldn’t have surprised him. As a Water Sign, he was also
the essence of feminine introverted emotion, and the most empathetic of the
twelve energies.
Where am I? he wondered. He giggled at
the thoughts in his own mind chiming in sounds he had never before heard; although
at the same time wasn’t unused to.
“Where am I?” he said out loud, and laughed,
surprised again at the tones bursting like bubbles from his mouth. Looking at
his handprint, he said, “Water?”
Pisces made himself really pay attention for
a minute, tuning into the emotional currents. He bit his lip in concentration,
caught on a wave of feeling that said humankind was still very much lost. He
was overwhelmed with the collective feeling of abandonment, frustration and
meaninglessness. He would have almost have lost himself in it, if he hadn’t
been struck with the impulse which began to drawing him around the inside the stone
circle. He shrugged to himself, forgetting the suffering of the world, the hand
print, and the curious sound of his own voice out loud and inside his head, and
began his journey. He drifted along, his webbed toes moistening the grass, mud
clinging to his feet. As the twelfth and oldest of all the energies, Pisces was
the wanderer; so he guessed he should be wandering.
Pisces was the ruler of dreams and fantasies
- and the most gullible, easily lead, and self-delusional, he remembered being
told – quite often – the last time they were here. Then it occurred to Pisces that
they were all about to meet again. He would be reunited with all the twelve
energies; but there was one he had been parted from, who he had promised he would meet again, the one that had often
pointed out his tendency to lose his way in fantasy and her ability ground him
in reality. All at once he could feel the grounding perfection of the sixth energy,
almost feel his warm mouth against her neck, and imagine vividly the gently pressure
of their kiss, and her fine dark hair in his hands as he moved it out of the
way of her face, so often creased with concern and worry for their cause.
As the Water Sign continued walking, he felt
a subtle ripple in the field around him. A new frequency of energy was drawn
through the entry stones; the eleventh energy.
He turned at the quirk of the wind.
“Aquarius,” he said warmly, grinning dopily
at the figure taller than himself, still lost at sea in his own imagination,
but managing to peek through at for a moment.
“Pisces, my friend,” Aquarius answered
instantly, obviously not as tickled as Pisces had been by their new language. He
had a strong nose and jaw, with hair unusually colourless, like ether. Aquarius
was an Air Sign, an extroverted, masculine, mental sign, humanitarian and the
ruler of larger social institutions, his gaze was forever misted over with
ideas and inventions. Visionary
and lofty, the wide, future bound Aquarian eyes met the otherworldly Piscean
eyes of dreams. “It is
good to be back.”
As Aquarius moved to meet Pisces, light on
his feet, the ground behind him, in front of the entry stones, began to shift. The
roots shot from the ground and wound themselves upwards into a solid, hard-worn
figure, with strong shoulders and leaves blooming green and then fading with
colour as knitted together, and the bark crippled itself into dark serious
eyes, wise, radiating status and security.
“Capricorn,” Aquarius greeted their younger.
“It’s good to see you.”
Capricorn energy was of a different
vibration. Pisces felt a deep, sensual, and serious moodiness lapping at him.
“Aquarius, Pisces,” Capricorn said. Capricorn
was the oldest earth sign, introverted, mental and feminine, and was the
archetypal figure of paternity and morality.
“This way,” Pisces said absently, leading
them forward.
Not far behind, Sagittarius, the archer,
bounded through, the last of the elders, as the oldest fire sign, extroverted,
masculine and emotional. He grinned around, ready to explore and eager for
adventure.
“Friends!” Sagittarius whooped, his inherent
optimism and large smile warming their hearts as he opened his arms.
Sagittarius, concerned with philosophy and higher meaning, almost to the point
of blindness, asked, “Are we here for truth?”
Aquarius answered with a lopsided smile that
revealed the dimple in his cheek, “We hope we are always here for truth.”
Pisces continued to walk, leading the
energies on the journey around the inside of the circle. Pisces was counting
down until she came through.
Everyone paused, feeling a sudden darkness
flicker, as if something had for a minute obscured the sun. The clouds
shuddered and began to pelt with rain, which hit heavy on the sign’s heads and
bare chests.
“Scorpio!” Sagittarius exclaimed.
Scorpio was the second eldest water sign, the
drops of precipitation tying his form together in a complex and turbulent
sequence until his body was formed. He stood there, firmly and aggressively. Scorpio’s
face was sharp, his eyes endlessly deep, fixed, but always changing, as if
their contents were ever being forced to turn over. Pisces was enveloped by the
stark hunger for experience, Scorpio’s obsession and probing nature sending a ripple
through Pisces’ own watery constitution that easily absorbed and couldn’t help
but imitate all that surrounded him.
Scorpio nodded his greeting.
One
more turn. Almost half way through, Pisces said to himself.
As they traversed the circle, the sky
lightened, brighter than before, and the birds, who had not been interested in
making their presence known beforehand, began to sing and coo, rejoicing overhead.
Aquarius quirked a brow. “I wonder who is
about to come through.”
The most beautiful entrance was made by Libra,
the sign of equality and partnership. Her blonde hair trailed the ground, made
up of the gentlest breeze. Her face was lit with a Venusian glow, set with
large intelligent eyes, her lips finely sculpted, her stature poised and
balanced. He body was perfectly formed, slim, with rounded breasts, a curling
of blonde hair between her shapely legs.
“Libra,” Aquarius greeted his fellow Air
Sign.
“Aquarius, darling,” she answered, fluttering
her eyelashes. Her gaze trailed over the bodies of all the signs before her. “It’s
so lovely to see everyone again. You all look very well.”
Charmed by Libra’s inherent magnetism, the
signs did not fail to blush with pleasure.
Now,
it’s her turn.
Pisces walked on and he felt his matching
soul energy come to life. The feel of the universe changed. Again the earth awoke,
and the flowers and roots shot upwards, weaving together, modestly, carefully,
the pink petals settling into light skin, branches splitting into the lashes of
dark eyes, and body with small breasts, tiny wrists, but with unbending resolve
beneath its timidity.
“Virgo,” Pisces said dreamily, the first to
speak.
The signs looked fondly on Pisces, the first
to have his ideal other return to life.
Virgo’s features were sharp and her
expression reserved. Her long dark hair rested on her face as her keen eyes
surveyed the circle. She offered a hesitant smile to them all.
The half attention which Pisces paid to the
material world was obviously no longer on anyone else but Virgo now.
The heat increased and Leo, the next fire
sign bounced into existence, grinning, grand, breasts bouncing, arms splayed,
big red hair, announcing Here I am!
Aquarius left
the future for a moment, and began to pay attention to the present, which his
ideal other was making clear she was very much in.
Leo was followed by the soft and self-protective
Cancer, the last of the Water Signs. Her hair was thick, her hips wide, her
stomach soft and round, and her legs sturdy. She immediately searched the
circle for Capricorn.
Pisces was lost in his imagination, wherein
he was taking Virgo’s face in his hands, telling her not to worry, leaning his
mouth in against hers, and sucking gently on her bottom lip, introducing her to how much he had missed her. His chest ached, calling for them to be
closer.
Virgo was fixing her hair and looking
anywhere but at him.
The quickest entrance was made by Gemini,
eyes flashing with recognition, quickly taking into account the stones which
were missing, the entry stones facing the north-east axis. Then she met
Sagittarius’ bright gaze.
Following, was earthy and steady Taurus. Pisces
was almost knocked out of his fantasies by the power of the possession which
crashed through the emotional undercurrents as Taurus was brought into
existence, and Scorpio’s attentions locked on to her.
Taurus rubbed her hands together, feeling the
sensations across her palms, pressing her toes deeply into the mud with every
step. Her body was strong, muscled and heavy. Her skin was the colour of coffee
and her face wide. Taurus was sturdy. She took a deep breath taking in the fresh
smell of earth and air.
Finally, it was time for the youngest of all
energies to make it through. Aries careered through, his skin steaming, his
eyes focused and ready for a challenge. His exposed stomach was taut, his bare
thighs muscled, legs bent at the knee, ready to take action. Libra, his exact
soul other, sighed – her soul was incomplete without her ideal other.
The journey was completed when Pisces
returned back to the place he had first started.
Reunited, the twelve energies – the one
energy, with twelve turns, stood among the stones, some hidden from view from
each other. Unseeing, they drew from the central energy of their connection.
They stood opposite each other, breathing in the revival of their souls, joined
in a one pure unconsciousness. Pisces sought Virgo’s energy through the
currents of his immersed senses. Although he couldn’t see her with his eyes, he
could feel her cheeks were flushed; her heart was beating quickly as she
ordered the sensations flooding them. Emotions that stretched human history,
from the birth of the first spirit, to the heights of pleasure, to the depth of
torture and pain, every interconnected soul, up to creation at that very
moment, rolled in. All Pisces wanted to do was keep imagining touching Virgo, entwining
their bodies and touching his tongue to hers, but it wasn’t long before the influx
of indistinct images soaked so deeply into his mind, Pisces found himself
entirely lost in the ocean of all what it was to be human. Then, as fully as they
had all been immersed, the feeling began to lighten, to thin itself, to
constrict and lift. Pisces felt the pull of each connection to the insulated
bliss weaken until it grew so fragile as to fade to an almost undetectable
undercurrent beneath the strength of the waves of consciousness which were
steadily and surely rolling in. A final tremor of reality pulsed through him,
which brought a feeling as if his head had broken the surface of the water,
time and space rushing to fill his imaginary lungs. The energies were as close
as they could be to being.
End of Chapter 1
