.::Arthur as Astronomical Principal
The 4th of the traditional astronomical seasons is Alban Arthuan, the light that is in darkness, for Arthur is in the place where the sun never comes, around the pole star.
There is the mystic sky area of Arthur, the circle gorola; Arthur means the bear, and he is both the Great and the Little Bears.
His kingdom is the sky area of the circumpolar stars; his soul or high self points to the pole star, the axis of the universe. Fixed as the standard of an unchanging truth, stella polaris' ray is received into the forehead of everyone whose concern is with truth.
Of this, the Great Bear is the appointed guardian and the Little Bear the demonstrator.
Changing the figure, Arthur is Aradr, the ploughman of the heavens, when the Bear is called the Plough. He sows the seeds of truth perpetually into dark soil.
Aloft Arthur rides, guiding us, guarding us, perhaps saving us, with the regularity of the ever-turning apogee, the heavens at their highest point for the northern hemisphere::.
Ross Nichols
The Book of Druidry
"I am convinced that for man to survive now, his perception must change at its social base."
"What is this social base of perception, don Juan?"
"The physical certainty that the world is made of concrete objects. I call this a social base because a serious and fierce effort is put out by everybody to guide us to perceive the world the way we do."
"How then should we perceive the world?"
"Everything is energy. The whole universe is energy. The social base of our perception should be the physical certainty that energy is all there is. A mighty effort should be made to guide us to perceive energy as energy. Then we would have both alternatives at our fingertips."
Carlos Castaneda
The Art of Dreaming
* * * *
Once the shock had abated, Mr. Yeats was welcomed most fulsomely with warm brandy to the fireside...
Daryl seemed especially discombobulated, but very glad to find Yeats here suddenly at his hearth.
'My dear Yeats...,' he began, running a hand through his hair, and grinning as he shook his head slowly, '...you amaze me. I am never more happy to see anyone, here, now,' he stammered, confused.
Mr. Yeats crossed his long legs seated at the wingchair vacated by Daryl and sipped his cognac slowly, sighing. He observed the room about him serenely.
'I happened to be in the neighborhood.'
This response sent Daryl into a quick fit of hastily stifled giggles. 'Indeed?!' He rubbed his forehead, then took hold of himself and sat in the chair beside Yeats.
'And, what brings you to...the neighborhood?' He noticed he was still shaking slightly. Fearing Axelis at any moment no doubt.
Yeats let his gaze rest upon Emlyn a moment. He then looked over to Athena who sat upright now, intent upon him. He leaned forward.
'I do not believe we have been properly introduced, milady...'
'Forgive us, Mr. Yeats!' Emlyn recovered herself, 'Allow us to present our dear friend and neighbor, Athena...' Em realized she had forgotten, perhaps never known, Athena's full name. She was simply as the goddess herself.
Yeats and Athena stood as one and, taking her hand, he brushed lips atop her fingers. 'Sean Devin Roland Yeats, at your service,' he murmured.
Athena dropped a small curtsy, eyes lowered. 'Milord,' she answered, a wisp of a smile upon her features.
Yeats had the same smile. They seemed to be sharing a mutual secret as yet unguessed by the others.
Emlyn shot a look to Daryl; he glanced back her way, a finger across his lips, wonderingly.
Yeats straightened and gazed about the parlor. 'Seems odd to be, here. A long time gone.' He looked pointedly at Daryl. 'So much has happened, yes?'
Daryl dropped a sigh. 'Yes.' He hardly knew where to begin.
The older man went to his side and put a hand upon his shoulder. 'It has been a hard road, for you all. I'm aware, in part, of what has transpired recently.' He removed his hand, finished his drink and set his glass upon the tea table.
'I believe you, and Emlyn, have now become Keepers...is this not so?'
Emlyn looked at Daryl. Apparently, so they had. What all that entailed, however, she'd no idea.
Yeats turned to her then. 'That, is why I am now here, my dear,' he answered her thoughts. Dear old Yeats...
She smiled. 'I'm glad.'
Yeats broke into a rare smile himself. 'That is well, for I may be here a little while...a night or two. If I may impose?'
'We would like nothing better, my dear Yeats!' Daryl assured him. 'May I offer something from the kitchen?' Daryl tried to recall exactly what he had on offer...
Mr. Yeats held up a hand. 'Ah...some coffee, perhaps? You and I, I am afraid, may be in conference for a while.' He turned then to Em and Athena, 'If, you could excuse us, ladies; we will be getting our ducks in a row, so to speak, and then we may all have a confab together...in the library, I believe, yes?'
He held out his hand in that general direction, as a shepherd directs his flock.
Daryl realised then that some things were indeed not so easily hidden...from some.
. . . .
'So, you know Axelis, but not Mr. Yeats?' Emlyn inquired of Athena as they sat with their own coffee in the kitchen.
'Ye-yess...' Athena demurred, 'I have seen him, about...but we have never come face to face before.'
Hm. Interesting answer, Em thought. 'Well, I, for one, am rather glad of our chance to chat a bit ourselves.' She regarded Athena, who looked every bit as pleased as herself at this prospect.
'Meanwhile...we'll get something rather supper-ish together, I suppose.'
'"Supper-ish", I can do,' Athena assured her. As the two women poked about the kitchen, Em soon found Athena knew her way about Daryl's house more than she, and so gratefully acquiesced to Athena's directions.
Chopping vegetables for a quiche, Emlyn decided to inquire further into the dangerous unknown.
'So...what of your midnight ride tonight, eh?'
Athena smiled at the bowl full of ripe persimmons she was squashing to make spice bread.
'You know, you can draw a very large hexagon from Capella, to Castor/Pollux, then to Procyon, Sirius, over to Rigel at the lower/right corner of Orion, and back up to Aldebaran in Taurus. That is the “Winter Circle” or “Winter Hexagon.”' Athena told her, circling about Em's question.
'Is it? I thought a snow storm was threatening.' Em's eyebrow was at its zenith.
'The sky is a very wide playing field...' Athena commented, unruffled, as she added chopped pecans to the mix.
Emlyn considered this, and found herself somewhat jealous of Athena's gadding about the galaxy with her ever-absent father. Unworthy thoughts, true, but still...
Well, she had been busy gadding about with Daryl, and others in Otherworlds herself, sans Athena. Silly indeed, to be so mean-spirited.
'I do wish you joy of one another,' she spoke low as she beat her eggs to death...
Athena calmly shoved her bread pan into the oven. 'It's hot enough now!' She announced, as she washed her hands.
Em's quiche was placed next to the bread.
'Both should be done at about the same time.' Athena
smiled at Emlyn.
'Yes. We work well enough together,' the older woman put an arm about Em's shoulders. 'You know, there is nothing your father would wish more than to be able to spend more time with you, and Anara, as well. It simply is not safe. These are dangerous times, you know...both yours and mine.'
She took a seat at table and Em joined her there, bringing the bowl of pecans.
'I am always being told that now; that 'my' time, as you say, was rather a turning point, in many ways,' she commented, pouring coffee.
'You have read Marx and Engels, yes?' Athena regarded Em, who nodded. 'You know Karl Marx wanted to write a book on art, which he loved. However, after witnessing the horrors of factory life for workers in Manchester, he said his conscience would not allow him to rest until he wrote that little book on economics...' Athena wore a small sad smile.
'Yes.' Em looked pensive. 'I used to have hopes for women's voting rights, and for socialism, but, after knowing the future...nothing has changed, and in fact, we nearly come close to destroying not only ourselves but the very planet itself.' She sighed.
'There were changes made by both movements, good ones.' Athena touched her hand briefly. 'But the elite could never allow the people to have any power, of course, and gains were always followed by a war, usually, or economic collapse, or a so-called 'natural' disaster, which always pushes the masses back down in the hole again. Keeping minorities and women in a 2nd class citizen position, has always been the goal of politics and religion. Truly, alas, even in my day, nothing much has changed there.'
They sat quietly with their coffee listening to the weather outside.
'Wind is up,' Athena noted.
'That shouldn't be a problem, if you are taking the conveyance I believe you might...' Em murmured.
'Emlyn, dear...' Athena poured a warm-up. 'You do realise that Axelis and I are friends. I think of him as a mentor. Much as, I would suppose, you think of your Mr. Yeats.'
She stirred in honey and continued:
'I can't imagine ever wanting anything from Axelis except his vast fund of knowledge. He is, a very interesting being. But, well...if you seek someone who may be a real father...' she slowly shook her head, '...I don't think he has it in him. I do not think that their culture runs along the same lines as ours. For one, I believe that much fostering is done. One does not remain with one's birth parents long; much like what once was done amongst Keltic tribes, way back when.'
Athena paused. 'I guess I'm trying to tell you that, well, he isn't exactly a 'warm' sort of...person.'
Emlyn couldn't think of any fathers who were, really.
Even the human ones. Which Axelis certainly wasn't.
'It's a shame really...'
'Yes, the whole set-up is a shame, and shameful...' Athena returned to her earlier subject. 'Most people I knew, grew up with, worked with, were still ferociously inculcated with the notion that, even though the planet was running out of air, land, water, food, resources, space...that there was no reason not to have as many children as one wished, or to cut back at all on having everything one wished, for any reason, ever.
'We knew that an economy based on endless wars would only doom us all, but no one seemed able to do anything about it. Our lives were not our own. It was out of our hands. Frankly, it never had been. It was all an artificial construct, the world-view enforced by various demagogues.'
'Are we doomed, then?' Em inquired, laconically, playing Old Nick's advocate.
'Of course not. That is, we are not...you know better, as do I. As does Daryl, and Mr. Yeats. You know that a human is something other than a brain, a nervous system, a body. Amazingly, most people do not. And worse, they refuse to even consider anything else, any available potential. Such has been the success of society and religion; to make people believe they are dumb and docile as possible. Do not wonder. Do not strive beyond what a blind worm thinks may be 'possible'.'
Emlyn laughed and Athena chuckled. 'We know, beyond any doubt, that the possibilities are endless, and infinite as the stars...'
The kitchen door swung open then, and Daryl's head poked round. 'Something smells inviting...' he smiled and entered then, with Yeats hovering on his heels.
He went to the oven and held his hands over it, inhaling. 'Quiche? I believe?'
'You had ham, and mushrooms...preserved artichoke hearts, peppers...' Emlyn smiled at him.
'...Divine...' Daryl's hands hovered over the oven.
'I shouldn't open it, I know...but, ah,' he sniffed, 'some sort of spice bread; can't quite place it...'
'Persimmon.' Mr. Yeats was adamant.
'Got it one, Yeats!' Daryl nodded. 'Yes, that's it!'
'It is, indeed,' Athena arose. 'You are somehow just in time for supper!' She went to the oven. 'Nearly there...'
'Let us eat in the kitchen, shall we?' Daryl began setting places at the old oaken table. 'Warm in here.
And smells so lovely, yes?'
. . . .
A more European supper followed then, as it was late evening.
The storm picked up strength and all paused occasionally to listen to the rising wind and tattoo of occasional hail on the windows. They kept the woodfire well stoked however and were in no hurry to leave the kitchen.
Daryl resumed his seat after adding more wood to the stove.
'So, you have seen the Professor also,' he addressed Mr. Yeats, '...recently, then?'
'We...became aware of him not so long ago. Around Samhain,' Yeats answered slowly.
'He actually was working with the Others. That is how we discovered him. They had found a means to extract him from the time warp and reintegrate his mass there, and put him to use.
'Where Jack was taken, to the subregions below, in that same alternate timeline Athena experienced, that is where he now lives, moves and has his being...such as it is.'
Athena frowned. 'That horrible plastic world, ruled by the Others, in that alternate earth...where Jack was held captive...,' she drifted off, '...that awful place...'
Yeats nodded. 'The same. Yes, it is a synthetic world, ruled by synthetic creatures. It is their wish to make all of humankind such as they are...
'You see, in part, it was WE who created them. And then, it rather quickly became a rather eleemosynary relationship at best; but it was and is in actual fact, simple slavery...'
'A.I.' Daryl interposed. 'Artificial Intelligence. I knew that was a Frankenstein monster in the making...even back in my day.'
'Is this the analytical engine of Babbage's?' Emlyn asked.
'It is an outgrowth of that,' answered Yeats, 'First, came the early computer models, and then...well, the parvenu became convinced that thinking faster, like a machine, would be the next step in 'evolution'. Imagine!' Yeats managed to look aghast and bored at the same time. 'Vitiation viewed as progress...'
Daryl cracked a nut. 'People became desperate to give up the only thing that could free them from the wheel of rebirth; that which makes us human.
'And so, began implanting themselves with chips. Eventually, they doomed themselves to an inimical ennui...a soul-less existence, without relief, without feeling, and without end.'
All were quiet for a moment. They could hear, above the wind now, the soft sonorous chime of the Grandfather clock in the parlor announcing the witching hour...
And then --
A flash of blue light streaked by the window suddenly.
Athena stood.
She smiled at the assembled company.
'I believe that's my ride...'
. . . .
Ring Out Solstice Bells
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