Stilgar's thoughts were in ferment. There could be no doubt these twins went beyond their father. But in which direction? The boy spoke of an ability to be his father -- and had proved it. Even as an infant, Leto had revealed memories which only Muad' Dib should have known. Were there other ancestors waiting in that vast spectrum of memories...?
Frank Herbert
Children of Dune
. . . .
..::Although eventually outlawed by Persia, the influence of the Magi ran deep within the beliefs, customs and rituals of Zoroastrianism.
However, the much older religion was of the Magi who were the elite priestly caste of Media in north-west Iran. They believed in a whole pantheon of supernatural beings called ahuras, or 'shining ones', and daevas - ahuras who had fallen from grace because of their corruption of mankind::.
. . . .
'And I fear the tall white-armed ladies who come out of the air, and move slowly hither and thither, crowning themselves with the roses or with the lilies, and shaking about them their living hair, which moves, for so I have heard them tell each other, with the motion of their thoughts, now spreading out and now gathering close to their heads. They have mild, beautiful faces, Aengus, son of Forbis, but I am afraid of the Sidhe, and afraid of the art which draws them about us.’
‘Why,’ said the old man, ‘do you fear the ancient gods who made the spears of your father's fathers to be stout in battle, and the little people who came at night from the depth of the lakes and sang among the crickets upon their hearths? And in our evil day they still watch over the loveliness of the earth.'
W.B.Yeats
The Heart of the Spring
. . . .
Musicians began to play and at that very moment Rasputin leapt up so fast he knocked over his chair...suddenly he began to jump and dance, he bent his knees and began to kick his legs out, his beard shook, around and around he went... His face was contorted, he hurried and his jumping was out of time with the music, as if he was ruled by his will and frenzied, he was unable to stop.
Yet he still leapt, twirled, and we all watched.
The site was so awe inspiring, that gazing upon, one wanted to come alive and throw oneself into the circle, and go leap and whirl just like him, as long as one's energy could last.
Drink, dance, and God went hand-in-hand for Rasputin. To lose himself to movement was intoxication similar to losing himself to prayer.
'He would be driven on into the dance by the surge of healing the music awakened in him,' Maria remembered.
And this intoxication of rhythm in his spirit was not very far removed from the religious transports which at other times he was capable of feeling. In the same way my father did not separate religion from joy.
His transports of exultation often developed from pleasures of the most temporal kind, and when others thought him clumsy or ridiculous he felt rising in his soul an irresistible buoyancy hardly distinguished from the fervor of prayer.
Douglas Smith
Rasputin
Faith, Power & the Twilight of the Romanovs
. . . .
Every day a fairylike beauty
steps out from behind the curtain
and puts everyone in a circle to dance
the Sufi dances to that beauty's tune
and waves his soft cloak
but the man of reason
gets confused
his turban comes untied
and drags on the ground
-- Rumi
. . . .
The White World...
Tabula Rasa. Emlyn found it familiar, though.
This pale land of void. She wondered then if this was where the Chinese had formed the idea that white was the color of death? They wore white in mourning.
She knew this was not the reaper's realm. Merely another null zone. Timewalking with Daryl or Jack, she would be thrown into black space before 'arriving'. But here...
The black hole had become white.
Sounds came first. And smells.
She breathed deeply the keen sea air and heard rollers streaming upon the strand. The veil began to lift.
The beach. She knew she wasn't alone and the others behind. But she relished being here and wished to enjoy the feel of sea breezes against her face in the milk-white silken world. Listen as the music of the waves enclosed her in gentle ocean rhapsody.
She paused, stared out to sea. Athena and Axelis arrived out of fog.
'I have always loved this place.' Emlyn breathed.
'Like the Village of Sopa and Fog.' Athena commented, as she serenely braided her long silver hair against the snatching fingers of the wind.
Emlyn wondered at that.
She intuited some connection between them; the 'fog' was thicker here, however.
'Then, too,' Axelis spoke, 'at times perceptions can take on the aspect of our expectations.'
They regarded him. Em thought he did not look so out of place here in the hazy Otherwold.
'Another aspect approaches...' He nodded down the strand.
Em recognised Thelene in the slim dark figure in the distance.
She smiled at Athena. 'Thelene is come. Do you know her?'
Athena said nought; she was staring, focused solely on the approaching woman.
Axelis put his hands upon their backs 'Let us meet her.'
Together with Thelene completed a puzzle; a foursome, solid. A foundation upon which to build.
'Greetings.' Thelene's voice like the ocean as Em remembered.
'Do I know you?' Athena asked, gazing at Thelene as if she held the answer to all questions ever asked.
Thelene focused on Athena with cool intensity.
'You do.'
'Thelene is my sensei.' Emlyn smiled at the teacher who had been with her throughout her life. And in her dreams.
Axelis put a warm hand upon her back. Em looked up and was surprised to view a smile from Axelis; it struck her like the phoenix arising from ashes.
All of Em's questions; who, what are you really? Who is Thelene, and from whence do you come? What is the nature of the universe? -- All of this seemed unimportant. Everything here seemed to run on greased wheels like the hand of Gwydion and the Twyleth Teg.
She wondered about Axelis and perception.
'Things change, as one's perceptions change.' He was listening to her mind. 'As one's expectations change. If you could banish all expectation, then your perception could be unlimited.'
Emlyn pondered how that could be possible. If it was possible.
Athena and Thelene glided in; one tall, dark with hair like an upswept raven's wing; the other tall, ensilvered with her mane of moonfire. Mirror images.
Emlyn couldn't help but remark upon this.
'You look like sisters.' She realised.
A soft smile crept upon their features as they gazed at one another.
'We are.' Thelene announced, turning to Em. 'As are you and Anara; you refer to her as a future self. Here, we do not run on that timeline. Here, the circle reigns.
'Envision a wheel, with spokes protruding from the hub: each spoke is a different incarnation as you would view it, or exploration as we name it. All ongoing at the same 'time'. In your linear, material world, bound by quarantine, this is 'time after time'.'
Emlyn was cautiously amazed.
Anara, her Daemon as the Greeks had named it; able to see beyond past and future and to advise the Eidolon, the present, workaday self.
Never compel, but hope to influence. Free will universe. That was a problem for some who were a problem to some.
She wondered where Anara could be.
'Ah.' Axelis put a gentle hand on her shoulder. 'Expectations...'
'Sensei,' Emlyn had to ask, 'I have heard a bit of Athena's history, and I have to wonder; why did she have to suffer so, for so long?'
Athena's face remained serene, but she turned her grey gaze to Thelene.
Thelene closed her eyes, 'Long and long.'
She looked to her mirror'd sister. Reaching up, she tucked a straying lock of moon-silver behind Athena's ear. 'More so than in many lifetimes. We are strong and survived.
'Speak truth; would you joyfully return to earthly life again, now; ready and willing to endure the 'slings and arrows of outrageous fortune'?'
'Oh, Thelene...no.' Athena looked pained. 'I never wished to be shackled to the material world. But especially not now. The sheer brutality...' Words failed her.
She sighed at last: '"When sorrows come, they come not as single spies but in battalions..."'
Thelene turned to Emlyn. 'There you have it. The carrot and the stick, you are familiar?'
Em nodded.
'Emlyn, if the carrot were all that was needed, millionaires would be enlightened Buddhas. A stubbon race, humans.'
'You are not human?' Em leapt at that.
'Not any more.' Thelene's gaze bore into her soul. Emlyn felt herself fall into the deep well of her regard.
'Not all.' Thelene blinked. Within her eyes swirled the grey world. There Emlyn saw that some were not yet as Others; appearing as anyone, and yet they lacked star spark.
Empty eyes and lying mouths and the rape of the land. More machine than man.
Thelene blinked again and the grey world was banished.
'And who is this?' she asked, lifting a white arm ahead.
There, the stairway to the sea bathed by tidal surge. Drawing closer, Emlyn thought she saw a familiar figure seated upon the steps.
Her tormentor and her refuge -- Daryl.
. . . .
To Daryl's vision, gazing up the beach; his heart leapt. He believed Anara was coming, at last.
As they came closer, he perceived now it was Emlyn, not Anara.
Thelene/Athena. And Axelis...hard to miss.
As they neared the lagoon, Daryl stood, readying himself for whatever dreams may come...
Then they were upon him. And, to nearly everyone's amazement, Mr. Yeats appeared suddenly from behind Axelis. He seemed to have simply...stepped out of him.
'Mr. Yeats!' Emlyn exclaimed. 'It is so good to see you.'
'And you, Emlyn.' Yeats tore his gaze from Thelene and regarded her and Athena. 'Athena, I see you have come face to face with your self.'
Like waves seeking shore, his eyes returned to the regal Thelene, for he was hers.
Athena nodded to Yeats with a bemused look.
'And Daryl...' Yeats managed to sound equipoised as his eagle's vision shifted his way. 'You, I imagine, have met your match.'
Daryl felt rather hot under the collar then and thought of leaping into the waves.
'Shall we?' Thelene reposed upon a stair, settling Yeats beside her; Athena took a seat beneath Axelis on the top step, and, at last, Daryl held forth a hand to Em and he seated himself next to his rose and thorns.
Yeats glanced about the Company. His gaze rested on Daryl.
'Excalibur, the sword and strength of Arthur, tempered by forge and fire. Think upon that as metaphor; more so than as some carraig, a rock transformed by metallurgy.'
Daryl shifted uncomfortably...as much as he enjoyed seeing Yeats. He was also feeling egregiously guilty; both Yeats and Axelis knew about his recent transgression with Cup and Box.
"Truth lies within a little and certain compass, but error is immense": Lord Bollingbroke.
'So, searching throughout the village for...soup, was it?' Yeats' eyebrows performed prodigous, godlike feats of hoist...
'And, although seeking antiques both low and high, you found not the shop, but came unerringly to the Forge, did you not?'
Daryl was well and truly caught.
'The Forge indeed. And Volunder Kane.'
'The Smith of the Gods!' Athena exclaimed.
'Oh, Emlyn...would that we could have spent some time there as well. Perhaps next time?'
Emlyn knew her mischeivious side now. Athena was acting the veriest devil, to nettle Daryl.
'And, so.' Yeats' brows lowered, making shade.'Expectation can cloud perception.'
Emlyn began to see something of Axelis in Yeats.
'Axelis said something like that earlier.' No, not like that; exactly that. And where had Yeats appeared from, anyway?
'Ergo: Ego...' Yeats continued, 'Your biggest enemy. Your cravings, desires, obsessions: the very stones in your in your belly and on the path when you trip.'
Thelene regarded Emlyn and Daryl like hovering hawk. 'You seek yourselves in each other. Emlyn seeks the Merlin and Daryl, Anara.'
Her grey gaze, so like Athena's. And like Daryl's.
'Find and follow your own bliss, and there you will find them. That is their reason for being. And yours as well...'
Yeats affirmed: 'We are our brothers' keepers. There you will find your love. It is our joy.'
Thelene spoke: 'Athena can tell you there was much drought on the land on her time line,' she reflected. 'The World was out of balance. Male and female were out of balance with one another. The sacred feminine had been banished and denied, demonized and strangled for millennia.'
'The story of Parsifal.' Emlyn knew. 'And the Fisher King, who lies wounded; a living reflection of the wasteland without. And, no queen.'
'No.' Thelene looked to Yeats momentarily. 'No queen.'
Their gazes locked. Something unspoken lay heavy in the air.
'Parsifal leaves the castle without the Grail.' Thelene continued. 'He failed to ask the right question, to inquire how he could be of service.
'And the land lies fallow, and still men are everywhere in chains, women remain in subpar status and children suffer for both; the People of the Book drench each other in blood and the land thirsts. Their Mother mourns.'
Yeats had been gazing intently at Thelene and now he took her hand, raised it to his lips to bestow a kiss, before he spoke:
'"An abstract Greek absurdity
has crazed the man
a trinity that is wholly masculine
man woman and child
(daughter or son)
that's how all natural
or supernatural stories run."'
He faced the others, smiling. 'Ah, my ancestor could turn a phrase or two, as well,' he nodded to Daryl.
"Ribh Denounces Patrick", so it was.'
'And so he should,' Daryl nodded back.
Thelene caught Emlyn's eye and smiled softly.
'There are actually two grails; while the holy Grail does relate to the Magdalene, it is not she. The earthly Grail is the Sang Real, or Blood Royal as relates to the houses of David and Benjamin.
'The holy Grail is of a finer substance. Often, the Magdalene can be seen carrying it: a Cup, which is here, and not here.'
Silence like a bell surrounded the sound of the sea. Questing, crested sea.
Daryl breathed deeply. A healing place. Thus far, his wounds had been shallow.
Daryl thought then: Maybe we, maybe I, will simply be allowed to 'go and sin no more'. Remember: Can't do that. Shouldn't.
He'd taken a vow...to keep and cherish Cup and Box. And Emlyn.
And then, from out of the deeps came a low tone...
From the waves; a siren's song. Fluent and flowing it came; the song of the sea: Neptune's harp and selkies.
Yeats stood, and offered his large hand to Thelene.
'Music of the deep. Draoidh boireannach,' he said, bowing, 'Come into the dance with me?'
Thelene arose, unfurling like a lily. She took his hand and Yeats enclosed her a grand embrace. His Danann priestess.
'"*The sun of his face conquered the moon
who was thrilled to be held in his arms
and started dancing..."'
*Rumi
As Thelene and Yeats spun on packed sand, Axelis took Athena by the hand and lifting her to him, off they followed; through the looking glass and down the hollow...
Daryl knew a cue when he saw it --
Taking Emlyn's hands, unburdened by rings, they stood and Em gently touched his cheek, attempting to smile and reconcile.
Daryl took her hand and kissed it softly.
'"*Though the seas threaten, they are merciful."'
They waltzed together then, along the shore and let the Otherworld heal their heavy hearts once more.
*Shakespeare encore.
' ' ' '
A Curious Soul Astray - kd lang/Ben Mink
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