It’s easy to forget that we have perfection in our hands when times are rough. Richard Matheson spent a lifetime writing horror and dark fantasy, to end up his masterwork as one of the greatest love stories ever told. Why did it take so long? Love is so hard to express, even for the most sensitive of us. Passion is so much easier. This is why we are barraged by “love stories” that are nothing more than sex driven fantasies. In the rare instance that passion and love meet, we find something truly great. Something that transcends words. The love story is now even harder to tell, and it can become downright scary.

As writers, when we find this kind of extraordinary relationship, our first instinct is to run. We want to run because for the first time in our lives we have no words to describe what is happening to us. It’s confusing, we stumble, we fall. We falter. You see, in running, we can understand, in words. The only way we really understand anything.

With love comes fear, but hopefully passion and love together can offset our natural fear of loss.

In Matheson’s What Dreams May Come, the main character has to come face to face with not only his greatest fear, but also the greatest fear of the majority of mankind. Is that what makes it so compelling? It is definitely what makes it ring so true in the hearts of so many.

By using this novel, I’ve skirted myself(safely around), for now, the subject of my own feelings and fears. Eventually I’ll face them down, as Matheson, and so many others have, finding the strength in their constant growth.

Jack.
I Listen.

Fragments
#5
What Dreams May Come

The Marks of a God
—-

When he awoke again, he was not sure how long he’d been out. He went through all of the realms of paranoia, anxiety, depression, elation, mania, and so much more. He battled his demons, trying to recapture something that was lost.

It was night time now. And slightly chilly. Minus felt very disoriented. He had relied on alacrity and synchronicity for so long. But these things were useless in the trial of gods. His magic was about movement and charm. Things he did not need here, alone in the forest. He pulled his arms up and looked at the scars Odin had left. They looked like the runes of Norse magic, which Odin received when he put himself through the first trial of godhood, the world tree. Yggdrasil was older than man. Older than gods. It only made sense that this was the only place left for true magic.

Odin had once been mortal, but he had hung himself on the world tree for nine days and nights to gain insights into ancient magic. The world tree and the elder gods had given him magic in return. A magic he unleashed on the world, and eventually used to overcome the forgotten gods. He used the magic to take his place in Aesir, as the All-Father. His brothers and sisters, and sons and daughters had taken their spots in the royal court, and a new generation of men and gods had begun.

Minus had hung himself on the world tree twice now. This was important. It was important because it was the path of self sacrifice for forgotten knowledge. He knew that Odin often saw him as a son, but was weary to allow him into the heavens. The last man he had allowed in had been Loki Sky-Walker, who caused much destruction and sadness in the royal court. He would not take that chance again. Not easily anyway.

Minus knew all of this, but he had been hanging on this tree so long that he wasn’t sure how he knew it. After Odin’s last visit, he had blacked out, and he had no idea how long ago that was. He had spent hours trying to meditate, trying to understand.

His temples throbbed and he could not feel his arms or legs. He pulled his arms up into view, so he could see the marks that Odin had left. The sigils glowed in the dark night. A bright blue. He had no knowledge of runes, but he knew instinctively that one meant strength and the other meant power. Minus tried to settle back into meditation, but he ending up passing out instead. The blood in his head was getting worse. He guessed that he had hung for five days. But his thoughts were fading into blackness.

On that same day, Jane had asked Mancini about the Akashic Library.

—-

Jack
I Listen.

The Cost of Magic
Section #23
The Marks of a God

In Which Minus Dreams A Memory
—-
He runs across the roof tops. This city is dense and the alley ways are small. He jumps, falls short, dangling with a one-handed grip on the bricks. He let’s go.

Rive.

He hits the large, overly stuffed bed hard. Panting and sweating in his full John Constantine regalia. Suit, overcoat, cigarette in mouth, all dripping wet. His mind raced. Had his pursuers seen the rive he had opened? He didn’t know who they were, was uncertain of their abilities. Aside from the fact that they were inhumanly fast.

They shot through alacrity with a focus that matched his own. This was very rare. Understanding alacrity had driven more men mad, than had ever been able to run with it. The problem people have with the magic of speed is that after the first taste, it’s never fast enough again. Always trying for more. You can see perfection in the distance. And anytime you can see true perfection, it’s dangerous.

After a few minutes, Minus knew that they had not traced his rive. He relaxed a bit, then reached for some dry clothes.

***

Back in Jerusalem, the three men dressed in black, stood surveying the rooftops and alley ways. Wet footprints ended and never started again. They were confused, but not worried. He could hide all he wanted, but he could never out run them.

Even so, the Three-Headed Lion would not be happy with his extensively trained alacrity spotters. He had dug their souls from Hell, and trained them for a reason. He needed them in this war. This was not like the last.

—-

Jack
I Listen.

The Cost of Magic
Section #13
In Which Minus Dreams A Memory

Things Change.

Jack
I Listen.

Basic Ideology 101
Battle #12
The Battle of Acceptance.

———

Runes to Swords

After the awkward moments that followed the pile up, Minus ordered replacement drinks, four margaritas, and two more pitchers. Jane didn’t tell him the margaritas had been empty before the accident.

They turned up their beer, and took stock of each other. Minus saw the silky, white aura. Jane saw a man that would change her life, and every aspect of it. She didn’t know why.

After Minus finished his pool game, collecting a large wad of cash from the other player. He put his cue up, and joined Jane in the small corner booth. They talked for hours. They told stories. They talked about life. They talked about dreams.

“I walked on water, once,” said Minus as he left the table, in search of the restrooms. “There were pictures, I think…”

Jane was more than a little puzzled as she watched him walk away. They had talked about a lot of things that had been hard to swallow, but were none the less true. But water-walking? She shrugged the statement off to the alcohol.

Minus returned with a bottle in a brown bag. “They closed up about an hour ago, but the staff knows me. This is homemade wine,” he held up the bagged bottle. “And this, is the key to the door. We’re to lock up when we’re done.”

One of the bouncers, who was actually a bit smaller than Minus, walked up to the table. He held out two small brown bags. One was labeled “Forget-Me-Nots,” the other, “Forget-Me-Dos.”

“Sir, would you consider tonight an occasion to forget?” He was looking at Minus.

“No, Harry, but there are many occasions I would love to forget,” Minus sounded more clear, like the drink had no hold on him. Just for a moment.

“Madame, would you consider tonight an occasion to forget?” He looked to Jane.

Jane felt her head clear suddenly. It was more than a little scary. “No, not tonight. Last night, yes. I hope I never forget tonight.”

The bouncer dropped both bags on the table.

“Forget me, then. And forget not this night. Runes to Swords.”

————

Enjoy.

Jack
I Listen.

The Cost of Magic
Section #3
Runes to Swords

Loki Listens Volume 1 is almost ready to print. I’m hoping you’ll be seeing it within the next couple of weeks.

We started a few new things here. A series of true stories called Fragments. And an upcoming fiction series called The Cost of Magic.

Also got a lot done over at squidoo. You can see all the fresh flavor here.

Jack
I Listen.

Update
12.1.08

redemption – noun
1. an act of redeeming or the state of being redeemed.
2. deliverance; rescue.
3. Theology. deliverance from sin; salvation.
4. atonement for guilt.
5. repurchase, as of something sold.
6. paying off, as of a mortgage, bond, or note.
7. recovery by payment, as of something pledged.
8. conversion of paper money into specie.

redeem – verb (used with object)
1. to buy or pay off; clear by payment: to redeem a mortgage.
2. to buy back, as after a tax sale or a mortgage foreclosure.
3. to recover (something pledged or mortgaged) by payment or other satisfaction
4. to exchange (bonds, trading stamps, etc.) for money or goods.
5. to convert (paper money) into specie.
6. to discharge or fulfill (a pledge, promise, etc.).
7. to make up for; make amends for; offset (some fault, shortcoming, etc.)
8. to obtain the release or restoration of, as from captivity, by paying a ransom.
9. Theology. to deliver from sin and its consequences by means of a sacrifice offered for the sinner.

Okay, Let’s think about these definitions for a moment.  The most important thing to notice is that the idea of ‘redeeming’ or ‘redemption’ is based entirely on something that was supposed to have been paid for to begin with.  The problem with this is that with the promise of redemption, we accept a debt.  This will not do for free-thinking people.

Redemption no longer has a reason to exist.  Instead, things should be paid for at the time of service, or things should be free.  We seek redemption for our actions.  We should have a free conscience after our actions, thus negating the need for redemption.

Our thoughts have no business creating the state of debt or guilt that brings on this concept.  We should pay for our thoughts accordingly and promptly, and not take on states of debt at all. If we can do this, then we can experience true freedom.

Jack
I Listen.

Basic Ideology 101

Battle #6
Freedom.

(definitions care of Dictionary.com)

————————————-

This is a true story. A story about my city. Chattanooga. I love it like no other. In this city, it’s rare for someone to say, “I love living here.” Mostly you just hear people talk about leaving. People new to the city often complain that it has a way of sucking you in, so you can’t seem to leave, no matter how hard you try.

I’ve always been here. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I was born here. I’ve spent many summer looking at the stars. I’ve spent many winters watching the city lights grow in number, year by year.

This is a story about disappearing. For such a small city, it’s so easy to disappear. When you’re gone, you’re gone. Most people forget they ever knew you. I don’t forget.

I met Will in the early summer one year, in a local bar. He was an old man to me. That summer, he told me his years numbered 60. I bought him a beer, and loaned him a cigarette, and he told me stories.

He was a Vietnam veteran. He had shrapnel lodged in his leg and chest from his tour of duty. He came home to find that he couldn’t work anymore from the pain. The Veterans Administration moved him into the Social Security Building, gave him a fixed income and a constantly growing addiction to pain medicine. When I met Will, he was taking 120mg of morphine and 80mg of oxycodone a day.

My girlfriend of the time often remembered the first time I introduced her to Will, pleasantly. She could not hear his name over the noise of the bar. After mistakenly calling him something else, he told her, “My name is Will, but you can call me anything but late for supper.”

Always a smile, always a laugh. A man could hardly have a better disposition.

He once told me that a man can’t tell a lie, it’s a lie that tells a man.

Whenever he got his prescriptions filled, he’d sell his morphine and oxycodone to people he trusted. A fixed income and an apartment in the Social Security Building in Chattanooga is just a small step up from homeless.

One night he came to the bar and sold some pills to several people. He had been drinking and taking the medicines himself, and there was a bit of a mix up. When those people figured out they were taking vitamins instead of opiates, he apologized, and promised to fix the issue.

The last time I saw Will, he was leaving the bar to walk home. He had had a few beers, and I had watched him swallow several pills. I never saw Will again. No one I know has.

A disappearance. It happens all the time. How many people will you forget? How many people will vanish from your life without a second thought?

I’ve often told people that the greatest ability of the human mind is that it is able to forget. I sometimes wonder.

Jack.
I Listen.

Fragments
#1
Disappearing People

We are going to talk just a very little about the idea of “Gnosis.” Gnosis is the state of enlightenment that some believe can be achieved through knowledge. At one time, there were many Gnostic sects for many religions, but in present day, very few still exist. We are not going to concern ourselves with where they are and what they do. Instead, we will focus on the idea alone.

The idea of Gnosis, or enlightenment though knowledge, is similar to other things we have talked about, such as Zen and Existentialism. I often find that these three philosophies are more closely tied that most would like to admit.

Gnosis encourages learning and compassion. And as such it also encompasses the “Live in the Now” ideas of Zen and Existentialism.

So, let’s add this brief part of the ideas to our shamanic thoughts. Knowledge is power. That has always been true. Living in the Now gets rid of things that stop human advancement, such as anxieties. If you live in this present moment, and realize that was has past is just a story book, and what is to come is merely science fiction, it becomes easier to make this, and every, moment count.

There are hundreds of ways to say this, and it has been said over and over for centuries, but really understanding the idea is what matters. Understand that the you that is reading this is only you for that moment. After this moment has passed, it is not you anymore. You are already on the next moment, gleaning more information further down the page.

Convert your idea of time into still frames, or seconds, or motions. You can break it down to the most basic thought, and then when you run through all of those thoughts it becomes the flipbook that we call memory. And just like a real flipbook or film reel, sometimes pages, or slides become lost or damaged.

I’m starting to ramble a bit, so let’s pull this together. It’s hard for me not to ramble, knowing this is the end of a class that I’ve taught for more than a year now.

So, if we can gain knowledge, and remain fully aware of our past and future, without letting it hinder our abilities here in the Now, we might reach that state of Gnosis or enlightenment. Sounds pretty difficult, right? Well, you’re the one that wanted to be a shaman. :p

-Jack
I Listen.
Developmental Theology 089
Lesson #52 – End of Class