Make IT Real! - Sander R.B.E. Beals (self help books to read .txt) 📗

but there is another subsystem involved, which may have a different set of experiences: Baby is just as adept at signaling for missing ingredients as its mommy, and since she is next in the chain of provision, she gets the call for help, despite her actual dislike of pickles.

Since demand and receive seems to be such a successful mechanism in our bodies, there is every reason to assume the same mechanism at work on a far grander scale.

4444AD, Day 297, 19:33, the Akashic Records

Having learned enough from my third visual sub-processor, we watched as the hologram faded from the room, and looked around, not really knowing which of the forty-two doors to take now. Selina looked at me and shrugged, the wonder still very present on her pretty face.

“What is on your minds now?”, the voice asked us. I briefly wondered if her omnipotence wouldn't at least allow her to read our minds, when my own mind hit me over the head with the obvious explanation: Just like Selina and me can read each others minds, we usually don't, out of a simple courtesy. Not that the other would mind, but they might....

The moment I allow for my mind to open to any query from the voice, and ask Selina mentally to do the same, the information flows freely, and our host sums it all up in one concise sentence: “you both wonder about the viewpoint of the all, still clinging to the idea of hierarchy”.

“To be blunt, there is none. Just like a ring has no beginning and no end, the All hasn't either: no top, no bottom, no left or right, no in our out. Infinity does not know 'out' for it is All.”, the voice explains. It goes on to tell us that within Infinity, any point can be called the center, for there are no edges to measure it against. And any part can Know the All, provided it does not cling to any limitations.

“That being said”, Selina interrupts her, “I'd like to take that door, for it's image makes me feel joyous, even though I'm not sure why!” Clearly sensing no objections on the part of the voice, and being the twin that I am, I wouldn't dream of denying Selina her wish. We step through the door, and find ourselves in another hexagonal space, not yet lit up by a hologram. “What exactly do you feel?”, I ask her. She looks at me, and I recognize that look: it's the seven seconds she stared at me as my past self when I told her I'd love to have her close. No wonder there was no hologram here, for images may capture thousands of words, but untold images would be needed to perfectly describe one feeling! Being in this room however, makes me feel exactly like she did back then, and I'm not even going to try and describe this in mere words. Suffice it to say, I'll never feel just as little for her as I did before we crossed this threshold.....

On to the next door, my turn to choose now. I go for one of the six opaque colored doors, knowing we'll be in the same general area. It is the green door, the color of the heart chakra. As we step through, I recognize my past self, the one that finally met Selina in his lifetime. He is still a long way away from that moment, being a ten year old boy. I remember it still, my appointed 'job' in school: taking care of the old newspapers that needed to be recycled. Diligently, every Friday after school, I'd stuff all those old papers and magazines into boxes, ready to be brought to the recycler. He paid good money for it, up to a quarter a kilogram, which the school then used to cover expenses. My reward for doing this was the idea I was doing something right, which gave me a sense of belonging there. The added perks were the occasional treasures I'd unearth from the endless stream of words and images. Because many moments there, I'd pause and look at some image, or read an article. It wasn't solitary confinement to me, but rather solitary enjoyment.

The apogee of that time was a cartoon image called the dragon lady: dressed in long flowing green, she became the symbol of there being more to life: that very moment, I remembered how I was not born to be in solitude, but rather connected to another being. Her long dark hair lodged itself into my neural net as an unmistakable preference, and I spent weeks after that cherishing my find. In hindsight seeing it described like this it feels kind of silly, at least to those reading it, but to me it was the feeling of the One that would eventually lead me to Selina.

“The next one you choose together”, the voice breaks the silence. We look at one another, realizing that the one obvious next step we don't need to ask. We thank the voice, and ask her to return us to our starting point. “That'll be the white door”, is the understanding reply: “step through it and you'll be back aboard Liberator 7.”

And indeed, opening the white door shows us the state room, just as we left it several hours ago. Even the sheets are still in disarray, from waking up Selina. We step through, and the door closes, to vanish completely into the bulkhead. We remain, totally in awe, and not able to talk about it yet like normal people.

When we recovered enough to become a functional crew again, we walk towards the control room. It also is exactly like we left it, with one rather blatant exception: the navigations console is displaying a course plan which I know I didn't enter myself. “Honey, did you plot a course before we left?”, I ask Selina. “Nope, never touch it, that's your baby”, is Selina's cheerful reply. I examine the course, finding it to lead us on a spiral path towards another massive black hole. Having an idea where this came from, I briefly confer with Selina, and we decide to go with it. Since the ETA is a little over two days and three hours, I decide to dive into my book again......

'a Brave New World'

The irritating sound of the door bell wakes me from my daydreaming. I'd been looking at some of the technological ideas for our new world, because my technical background would enable me to put my energy to good use there.

I get up from my chair, and let in Valerie. She is smiling, the kind of smile that says: “I've got a great idea, anybody wanna listen?” “Dad, with the world being in the state it's in, do you think we could do with Inner Earth technology?” She asks me before we even get to the living room. “Sure, lots of improvements over our current state of technology. There's already lots of previously suppressed technology coming out, but we could always do with more and/or better”, I reply.

So my eldest explains, and I listen. She wants to ask Kayim to join her topside, and start some sort of business distributing Inner Earth technology to the people up here. It wouldn't quite be a business in the sense that it isn't out to make money, but more of a cooperative effort to create better solutions for things that are now seen as not being solved in a proper way. I think it's a brilliant idea, one that I would be only too happy to cooperate with. “There's no time like the present”, I say. I close the working copy of my second novel, and we punch up the mail program. Believe it or not, but Kayim actually gave Valerie an E-mail address when they said goodbye, so she'd be able to reach him. Together we fill the subject line, and the body of the message. When all is done, she tells me to move over. Apparently she wants to add a little of herself, that does not concern dear old Dad. So, I make us a pot of tea, while she finishes up.

As I'm returning to the living room, she's already started OpenOffice, to sum up the bright ideas that she expects from our brainstorming session. In just the same way, she's helped me move my novel along. Whenever my intuition temporarily shuts down on me, we start bouncing ideas off one another, and pretty soon we have a page full of red lines, which I then turn into many black pages. That's how a novel like this gets filled. But this time, it's about technological ideas. We agree that technology like the floater may be nifty, but hardly essential at the moment. Better avenues of pursuit will be those that lessen the dependency of people to big, centralized institutions, like utilities, and the communications giants. It's called moving the money away from big business. People can take care of most of their needs in their immediate surroundings. Back in the old days, local activity was discouraged, forcing everyone to shop for most things with the big, centralized business units. Now, with new governments in place, these kinds of restrictions have been quickly lifted, to enable a truly cooperative society. We still use money, but the recent events have dropped most prices, while sky-rocketing the price of goods that are detrimental to Nature. I know, economic rules say that demand drives up the price, but similarly, supply shortages drive up the price too. And since the truth about the oil industry came out, and drove the major players out of business, supply has been vastly reduced. So much so in fact, that those of us still wanting to burn oil must pay the price for their selfishness. Being one who relies entirely on public transportation, I don't worry about that too much.

As we finish the first page of bright ideas, the mail program alerts us to incoming mail. It is Kayim, saying he'll be arriving around two AM, by flying disc. He'll be bringing some equipment, which we will have to carry in. When he's arrived, LeeYooh will take the disc back to Inner Earth, because it doesn't belong here yet.

“Where will he sleep?” my daughter suddenly realizes. Since her home is quite crowded with the four of them and two dogs, I suggest to let Kayim have her bedroom here. That appears to be a great idea, because I'm being cuddled to death immediately following that remark. While I finish my tea, Valerie goes up to put clean sheets on the bed. “How will he feel about all the competition?” I shout up the stairs: Valerie's walls are littered with posters, one wall being exclusively reserved for posters of Tokio Hotel, the band that she performed during our stay in Shamballa the Lesser. Bill, the lead singer, is very prominently present on that wall. “You mean Bill? If Kayim minds I'll take them all down” is Valerie's immediate answer. “In fact, will you help me take them all down now?” Armed with a potato peeler I go up the stairs, and one by one remove all the staples that hold the colorful paper up. Valerie folds the lot of them into A4 size, and stacks them. Rather than throwing them away, she puts them into her desk for safe keeping.

Next we phone home to ask if she can sleep over to meet Kayim as he arrives. No problem there, so after dinner we do the dishes and clean house a little. We check for TV, thinking that there will be nothing on like always. Usually we just do something else, that is much more interesting. But now there is something there: Steven Spielberg's Close encounters of the Third Kind seems aptly appropriate on this very night. We watch the classic, side by side on the couch. As it was a late show, there's only five minutes left before