`
Can't get enough of PKD? Try AKS book. A Kindred Spirit, by ej Morgan, will feed yur craving for irreality in fiction.
This fictional account of Philip K. Dick's life begins with the hit on his house in Marin County and ends with . . . well, I won't spoil it for you.
A must read for PKD fans.
http://blog.aksbook.com/
~~~
It's a Philip K. Dick World! “Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.” —Philip K. Dick Government intrusion into our personal lives is increasing, the economy is shot and the media focus on hate and violence. Philip K. Dick's fifth and last wife, Tessa Dick, talks about her husband. I have my own books and stories, as well.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Quachi - a story from the ancient past
`
Please enjoy this story from my collection, Quachi and Other Stories and Poems. The book is available on Amazon.
Quachi
Note: This story was inspired by a documentary about the ancient monuments of Peru. The archaeologists could not understand why the people simply abandoned their great cities and religious centers. They offered several possible answers, and this story is my answer.
Father held his head high as he proudly led his family up the rocky path to the plateau where the sanctuary stood. All of them – his wife, three sons and three daughters – carried offerings for the nobles. Each year in the season of offering, they brought their gifts, and each year in the season they prayed for the Great Quachi to play his flute and grant them the gift of rain.
The rain must return. When it had rained, ten seasons past, the vicious torrent had torn long gouges into the earth with its claws. The farms of the high plain needed gentle rain to fill their canals. Father’s youngest son never had seen the rain.
On the shore stood cliffs filled with the shells of dead creatures that had suddenly found themselves lifted out of the sea by the uplifting of the earth. The family farm would soon be a dead shell, as well.
Father looked back now and then, to make certain that his family stayed together and maintained a respectful silence in this most holy of places. He worried about his youngest son, Tlati, who had let the llama bolt and run last year. That must not happen this time. They must see the Great Quachi.
#
Tlati led the llama colt by a fiber rope looped around its neck and tied around its nose, while his older brothers carried sacks of corn, melons and other fruits to offer to the Lords of the nation. They had walked this maze before, making the annual pilgrimage to the high plateau of Perqat Namu on the western edge of the Terraced Mountains and entering the packed dirt path between mud brick walls that rose twice as high as their heads. The path through the maze started out wide and open to the air, then narrowed as the walls closed in, finally coming to the part where they must walk single-file in the darkness under a thatch roof. It felt good to be walking, after waiting for two weeks in makeshift tents on the beach by the Great Ocean for their turn to approach the Lords. Other families still dotted the sand with their temporary encampments. They littered the sand with the detritus of daily life: fish bones, potsherds, corn husks, broken toys, scraps of discarded clothing and such. The beach stunk of dead fish and cooking fires.
Every year they offered their corn to the Lord of the Fields, their melons to the Lord of the Gardens, and so forth, finally offering one young llama of perfect conformation and without blemish to the Lord of Livestock. The llama must be less than one year old and raised in their house as a member of the family. Every year they were turned back without having seen the Great Quachi at the center of the maze, their offerings having fallen short of perfection. This was Tlati’s second year of pilgrimage, but he knew of years before from the stories that his three older brothers told.
#
Father never told stories. He led them through the maze in silence, maintaining an air of authority over his family, turning around to shush them with a stern look if they dared to whisper in this most holy of shrines. His two oldest boys carried the gifts of corn and melons. His youngest son, as was the custom, led the llama colt. Behind the line of men came the women, their mother and three sisters, carrying household goods to offer to the Lords: hand-woven textiles of the finest wool and most precious colors, clay pots filled with delicacies of bean curd and llama stew, rough gemstones and small common stones carved with blessings and prayers.
The family hoped, with these offerings, to reach the center of the maze and petition the Great Quachi for the gift of rain. Their canals had been running dry too soon, their fields scorching under the harsh sun, their crops shriveling and yielding fewer and smaller fruits each season. Each year they dug the canals anew to better carry the scant rainfall. Each year they brought the best of their produce, their finest handicrafts and their most perfect young llama as offerings to seek admittance that they might implore the Great Quachi to play his flute and, in so doing, to cause the sky to yield up rain. Each year they were turned back, disappointed but determined to try again next year, when the season of pilgrimage came around again.
#
Dust swirled around Tlati’s bare feet with each step he took. The llama, raised in their own house as a member of their family, walked by his side like a little brother, making the rope seem superfluous. He kept a tight grip on his end of the rope, nevertheless, remembering last year when the llama had balked. This llama would also try to run away, Father had warned him. They always do. Tlati resolved in his heart that he would not disappoint Father again. They must see the Great Quachi. They must have rain.
#
They walked in solemn procession down the path, which turned left and then right, then right again, winding in ever tighter spirals as the walls gradually closed in, making the path narrower at each turn. In each of their minds, the same thoughts ran through, the same words they had spoken every night around the cooking fire: “We must have water, we must have rain. The Great Quachi must play his flute and bring the rain.” Here and there a tapestry of red, green, yellow and black hung from the mud brick wall, illuminated by a candle set into a niche on the opposite wall. Each tapestry bore the insignia of rulership over the people and the land on its top half, and the seal of a Lord near the fringed bottom. When they passed under the edge of the thatch roof, walking single-file, they quickened their pace in the excitement of knowing that they were near to the offices. The thatch roof darkened their path, to impress upon them the brightness of the light in the offices of the Lords. Each Lord had his own alcove, a small room open to the sky, that one person might enter through an opening in the side of the tunnel, for now the roofed walls felt more like an underground tunnel leading into ever deeper darkness than a path leading to the high sanctuary of the gods.
In the first alcove sat the Lord of Stones, dressed in feathers and seated at a stone table. The wall behind him displayed a painted scene of women gathering stones from the fields around their mud house. Mother watched as Tlati’s youngest sister, Chalca, placed a cloth bundle on the stone table and pulled its corners apart, displaying her offering of a dozen stones, some precious and therefore not engraved, others common and therefore having prayers and blessings scratched and painted into their flat sides. Stones of violet, red and green sparkled in the sunlight. Mother moved her lips in silent prayer to be allowed to go forward and walk that much closer to the Caller Down of the Rain. The official nodded, the top feathers of his headdress nearly touching Chalca’s head, then lifted his head and looked to one side. It was the side of the path leading to the next official, so their first offering had been accepted.
The children found it unbearable that nobody spoke to them and that they must not speak. They suspected that their parents also felt ready to burst with speech, and that they would speak long and loud on the way home, when at last they were turned away and forced to leave the holy place. They always did.
The next sister offered a pot of llama stew to the Lord of Kitchens, and he must have savored the aroma, for he lingered over the pot for several minutes, mumbling to himself, before he finally nodded and sent the family on to the next office.
Each offering left the family group waiting outside the office while one of them offered the best they had. Each offering that a Lord accepted gained them access to the next Lord, where another one would make the next offering. Mama’s bean curd won the Lord’s blessing and a smile of delight at its delicate aroma.
Next came the brothers. Father watched them with the silent prayer upon his lips, we must have water, we must have rain. The melons were small but sweet, the corn stunted but edible. The Lords accepted those offerings from Tlati’s brothers, but they did not seem well pleased.
The family walked deeper into the narrowing maze, their sense of anticipation growing with each step they took. Tlati’s apprehension grew, for he knew that the last offering must be his, to hand his young brother llama over to the Lord of Livestock. Father made his offering of a bundle of firewood, cut to the proper dimensions and tied together with cords made of dried vines. The Lord of Fire cut the cords and inspected each piece separately for the quality of the wood and the size and shape. It seemed to take forever, but at last the Lord nodded and sent the family on to the next office.
Finally, they came to the next but last office, the Lord of Livestock. They had spent most of the day, beginning at first light, making their progress through the maze to this point near the center. The thatch roof in this end of the tunnel let in the dappled sunlight of late afternoon through a looser weave than in the halls outside the offices of the lesser Lords. The walls stood somewhat farther apart, allowing two adults to stand side by side outside the alcove where the last Lord but one awaited their offering of a fine young llama. Father and Mother watched from the doorway, while the children jockeyed for position behind them, trying to see around them and into the office.
#
Tlati stepped into the alcove, giving the rope a tug to encourage the llama to come along. The llama must have smelled the blood, for it balked, rearing back and dragging the boy backwards and pulling him off of his feet. Tlati fell to the ground and had the breath knocked out of him, but still he held tightly to the rope. His family watched with concern but did not move, for it was forbidden to help. Tlati must perform this task himself. Regaining his feet, he spoke softly to the llama colt and stroked its neck, reassuring the frightened animal that all was well. He felt like a traitor, for he knew what lay ahead, but the family’s need was great and this was the only way to meet their need.
He rubbed his brother llama behind its ears and whispered soothing words of affection, promising food and all other good things that a llama might want. This colt had slept in his own bed and eaten out of his own hand. It trusted him as if he were its own brother. So, with a little coaxing, Tlati convinced the llama colt to enter the office.
The heavy-set, bronze-skinned Lord of Livestock, dressed only in a leather apron, reached out a huge hand and grabbed the llama by the neck. With his other hand, he flashed a black obsidian knife of exquisite sharpness and slit the llama’s throat, sending a shower of blood over himself and Tlati.
The boy nearly fainted in horror, even though this was his second time and he had known what to expect. He watched the Lord carefully to see which way he would nod his head. Would this be the time when they were finally allowed to beseech the Great Quachi for life-giving rain? Or would they once again be turned away to struggle through another year of drought? He had heard his father and mother whispering about it in the wee hours of the night, when they thought he was asleep. They could not survive another dry year. If the Great Quachi did not play his flute and bring forth the return of the rain, then the people must move away or die. These two choices were all that lay before them.
For himself, Tlati could not bear to lose another beloved pet. He did not mind the hardship, the lack of water and the shortage of food. Working in the fields gave him pleasure, and he took pride in the calluses on his young hands. But he swore that he would never again watch the murder of a pet that he had raised with his own hands in his own house. The Great Quachi must bring rain.
The Lord inspected the corpse of the young llama, running his hands through its sleek, well-groomed wool, pinching its hindquarters to check the depth and tenderness of the muscles, bending its legs to examine their delicate bone structure. He began to turn his head, and it was the wrong way.
Tlati ran out of the alcove into the midst of his family, and he kept on running. His brother Texco tried to grab him, but he ducked and sped away toward the center of the maze, toward the Great Quachi, Lord of the Sky.
#
Father ran after his youngest son, afraid to believe that Tlati was committing this great sacrilege. Nobody approached the Great Quachi without permission. Surely the boy had turned the wrong way in error, meaning to run out of the maze and begin the long journey home. Mother and the children followed, walking slowly and seeming dazed. Some twenty or thirty feet down the path, they stood at the entrance to the central office, the shrine of the Great Quachi, and they watched their youngest son approach the greatest Lord of them all.
#
The thatch roof ended and the walls opened into the central chamber. In the center of the circular office sat a little man on a round stone platform. Shriveled and old, the Great Quachi had deeply wrinkled skin and a round bald head that seemed too big for his body. His chin lay upon his chest; he was either sleeping or deep in thought.
Tlati stopped a few feet away from the Lord and shouted, “Quachi! Great Quachi, you must help us!”
The family watched in horror, but also relief, as the youngest boy delivered their prayer to the Caller Down of the Rain.
The shriveled old man raised his head and blinked repeatedly as if the sunlight were too powerful for his old eyes.
“You must play your flute and bring the rain,” Tlati implored. “The land is dried up, the crops are failing and the people are suffering. Please bring back the rain!”
The old man spoke slowly, as if it were a great effort to push out the words. “You want,” he said, and gasped for breath. “Rain?”
“Yes. That is why the people come here every year, just after the harvest, to beg the Great Lord of the Sky for rain to water our crops and bring us abundance once more.”
The old man bent his head and sighed, but he did not speak.
Tlati urged, “We need your help. Our fields are parched and our livestock thirsty. We must have rain.”
“So sorry,” Quachi said. “The sky contains no rain for my flute to call down.”
“But you are the Lord! You may command it!”
Tlati had expected some sort of guards, or even his own brothers, to come and fetch him from this place. Apparently there were no guards. He did not have permission to enter, but his family was also forbidden to come into the presence of the Great Quachi. They waited outside the doorway, peering in but not daring to set foot inside.
“The sky,” the Lord said slowly and painfully, “has no rain to give.”
“None at all?”
“None.”
“Then what shall we do?” the boy implored,
“Go. Find a new land where the sky gives rain freely and in abundance.” The words came out slowly and with long pauses in between, but the Lord said them with authority and the boy obeyed.
Tlati bowed before the Lord, begged his forgiveness for this intrusion and walked slowly backwards until he was outside the central office and in the hallway with his family.
#
The family walked home in silence. His brothers did not tell their usual stories, having no stories as great as this one to tell. Tlati felt the need to consider the story in his heart, so he did not tell it for many years after the family had packed up their meager possessions and faded away into the forest, far from the desiccated fields of their former home, far from the Lord of Hopelessness.
* * *
Please enjoy this story from my collection, Quachi and Other Stories and Poems. The book is available on Amazon.
Quachi
Note: This story was inspired by a documentary about the ancient monuments of Peru. The archaeologists could not understand why the people simply abandoned their great cities and religious centers. They offered several possible answers, and this story is my answer.
Father held his head high as he proudly led his family up the rocky path to the plateau where the sanctuary stood. All of them – his wife, three sons and three daughters – carried offerings for the nobles. Each year in the season of offering, they brought their gifts, and each year in the season they prayed for the Great Quachi to play his flute and grant them the gift of rain.
The rain must return. When it had rained, ten seasons past, the vicious torrent had torn long gouges into the earth with its claws. The farms of the high plain needed gentle rain to fill their canals. Father’s youngest son never had seen the rain.
On the shore stood cliffs filled with the shells of dead creatures that had suddenly found themselves lifted out of the sea by the uplifting of the earth. The family farm would soon be a dead shell, as well.
Father looked back now and then, to make certain that his family stayed together and maintained a respectful silence in this most holy of places. He worried about his youngest son, Tlati, who had let the llama bolt and run last year. That must not happen this time. They must see the Great Quachi.
#
Tlati led the llama colt by a fiber rope looped around its neck and tied around its nose, while his older brothers carried sacks of corn, melons and other fruits to offer to the Lords of the nation. They had walked this maze before, making the annual pilgrimage to the high plateau of Perqat Namu on the western edge of the Terraced Mountains and entering the packed dirt path between mud brick walls that rose twice as high as their heads. The path through the maze started out wide and open to the air, then narrowed as the walls closed in, finally coming to the part where they must walk single-file in the darkness under a thatch roof. It felt good to be walking, after waiting for two weeks in makeshift tents on the beach by the Great Ocean for their turn to approach the Lords. Other families still dotted the sand with their temporary encampments. They littered the sand with the detritus of daily life: fish bones, potsherds, corn husks, broken toys, scraps of discarded clothing and such. The beach stunk of dead fish and cooking fires.
Every year they offered their corn to the Lord of the Fields, their melons to the Lord of the Gardens, and so forth, finally offering one young llama of perfect conformation and without blemish to the Lord of Livestock. The llama must be less than one year old and raised in their house as a member of the family. Every year they were turned back without having seen the Great Quachi at the center of the maze, their offerings having fallen short of perfection. This was Tlati’s second year of pilgrimage, but he knew of years before from the stories that his three older brothers told.
#
Father never told stories. He led them through the maze in silence, maintaining an air of authority over his family, turning around to shush them with a stern look if they dared to whisper in this most holy of shrines. His two oldest boys carried the gifts of corn and melons. His youngest son, as was the custom, led the llama colt. Behind the line of men came the women, their mother and three sisters, carrying household goods to offer to the Lords: hand-woven textiles of the finest wool and most precious colors, clay pots filled with delicacies of bean curd and llama stew, rough gemstones and small common stones carved with blessings and prayers.
The family hoped, with these offerings, to reach the center of the maze and petition the Great Quachi for the gift of rain. Their canals had been running dry too soon, their fields scorching under the harsh sun, their crops shriveling and yielding fewer and smaller fruits each season. Each year they dug the canals anew to better carry the scant rainfall. Each year they brought the best of their produce, their finest handicrafts and their most perfect young llama as offerings to seek admittance that they might implore the Great Quachi to play his flute and, in so doing, to cause the sky to yield up rain. Each year they were turned back, disappointed but determined to try again next year, when the season of pilgrimage came around again.
#
Dust swirled around Tlati’s bare feet with each step he took. The llama, raised in their own house as a member of their family, walked by his side like a little brother, making the rope seem superfluous. He kept a tight grip on his end of the rope, nevertheless, remembering last year when the llama had balked. This llama would also try to run away, Father had warned him. They always do. Tlati resolved in his heart that he would not disappoint Father again. They must see the Great Quachi. They must have rain.
#
They walked in solemn procession down the path, which turned left and then right, then right again, winding in ever tighter spirals as the walls gradually closed in, making the path narrower at each turn. In each of their minds, the same thoughts ran through, the same words they had spoken every night around the cooking fire: “We must have water, we must have rain. The Great Quachi must play his flute and bring the rain.” Here and there a tapestry of red, green, yellow and black hung from the mud brick wall, illuminated by a candle set into a niche on the opposite wall. Each tapestry bore the insignia of rulership over the people and the land on its top half, and the seal of a Lord near the fringed bottom. When they passed under the edge of the thatch roof, walking single-file, they quickened their pace in the excitement of knowing that they were near to the offices. The thatch roof darkened their path, to impress upon them the brightness of the light in the offices of the Lords. Each Lord had his own alcove, a small room open to the sky, that one person might enter through an opening in the side of the tunnel, for now the roofed walls felt more like an underground tunnel leading into ever deeper darkness than a path leading to the high sanctuary of the gods.
In the first alcove sat the Lord of Stones, dressed in feathers and seated at a stone table. The wall behind him displayed a painted scene of women gathering stones from the fields around their mud house. Mother watched as Tlati’s youngest sister, Chalca, placed a cloth bundle on the stone table and pulled its corners apart, displaying her offering of a dozen stones, some precious and therefore not engraved, others common and therefore having prayers and blessings scratched and painted into their flat sides. Stones of violet, red and green sparkled in the sunlight. Mother moved her lips in silent prayer to be allowed to go forward and walk that much closer to the Caller Down of the Rain. The official nodded, the top feathers of his headdress nearly touching Chalca’s head, then lifted his head and looked to one side. It was the side of the path leading to the next official, so their first offering had been accepted.
The children found it unbearable that nobody spoke to them and that they must not speak. They suspected that their parents also felt ready to burst with speech, and that they would speak long and loud on the way home, when at last they were turned away and forced to leave the holy place. They always did.
The next sister offered a pot of llama stew to the Lord of Kitchens, and he must have savored the aroma, for he lingered over the pot for several minutes, mumbling to himself, before he finally nodded and sent the family on to the next office.
Each offering left the family group waiting outside the office while one of them offered the best they had. Each offering that a Lord accepted gained them access to the next Lord, where another one would make the next offering. Mama’s bean curd won the Lord’s blessing and a smile of delight at its delicate aroma.
Next came the brothers. Father watched them with the silent prayer upon his lips, we must have water, we must have rain. The melons were small but sweet, the corn stunted but edible. The Lords accepted those offerings from Tlati’s brothers, but they did not seem well pleased.
The family walked deeper into the narrowing maze, their sense of anticipation growing with each step they took. Tlati’s apprehension grew, for he knew that the last offering must be his, to hand his young brother llama over to the Lord of Livestock. Father made his offering of a bundle of firewood, cut to the proper dimensions and tied together with cords made of dried vines. The Lord of Fire cut the cords and inspected each piece separately for the quality of the wood and the size and shape. It seemed to take forever, but at last the Lord nodded and sent the family on to the next office.
Finally, they came to the next but last office, the Lord of Livestock. They had spent most of the day, beginning at first light, making their progress through the maze to this point near the center. The thatch roof in this end of the tunnel let in the dappled sunlight of late afternoon through a looser weave than in the halls outside the offices of the lesser Lords. The walls stood somewhat farther apart, allowing two adults to stand side by side outside the alcove where the last Lord but one awaited their offering of a fine young llama. Father and Mother watched from the doorway, while the children jockeyed for position behind them, trying to see around them and into the office.
#
Tlati stepped into the alcove, giving the rope a tug to encourage the llama to come along. The llama must have smelled the blood, for it balked, rearing back and dragging the boy backwards and pulling him off of his feet. Tlati fell to the ground and had the breath knocked out of him, but still he held tightly to the rope. His family watched with concern but did not move, for it was forbidden to help. Tlati must perform this task himself. Regaining his feet, he spoke softly to the llama colt and stroked its neck, reassuring the frightened animal that all was well. He felt like a traitor, for he knew what lay ahead, but the family’s need was great and this was the only way to meet their need.
He rubbed his brother llama behind its ears and whispered soothing words of affection, promising food and all other good things that a llama might want. This colt had slept in his own bed and eaten out of his own hand. It trusted him as if he were its own brother. So, with a little coaxing, Tlati convinced the llama colt to enter the office.
The heavy-set, bronze-skinned Lord of Livestock, dressed only in a leather apron, reached out a huge hand and grabbed the llama by the neck. With his other hand, he flashed a black obsidian knife of exquisite sharpness and slit the llama’s throat, sending a shower of blood over himself and Tlati.
The boy nearly fainted in horror, even though this was his second time and he had known what to expect. He watched the Lord carefully to see which way he would nod his head. Would this be the time when they were finally allowed to beseech the Great Quachi for life-giving rain? Or would they once again be turned away to struggle through another year of drought? He had heard his father and mother whispering about it in the wee hours of the night, when they thought he was asleep. They could not survive another dry year. If the Great Quachi did not play his flute and bring forth the return of the rain, then the people must move away or die. These two choices were all that lay before them.
For himself, Tlati could not bear to lose another beloved pet. He did not mind the hardship, the lack of water and the shortage of food. Working in the fields gave him pleasure, and he took pride in the calluses on his young hands. But he swore that he would never again watch the murder of a pet that he had raised with his own hands in his own house. The Great Quachi must bring rain.
The Lord inspected the corpse of the young llama, running his hands through its sleek, well-groomed wool, pinching its hindquarters to check the depth and tenderness of the muscles, bending its legs to examine their delicate bone structure. He began to turn his head, and it was the wrong way.
Tlati ran out of the alcove into the midst of his family, and he kept on running. His brother Texco tried to grab him, but he ducked and sped away toward the center of the maze, toward the Great Quachi, Lord of the Sky.
#
Father ran after his youngest son, afraid to believe that Tlati was committing this great sacrilege. Nobody approached the Great Quachi without permission. Surely the boy had turned the wrong way in error, meaning to run out of the maze and begin the long journey home. Mother and the children followed, walking slowly and seeming dazed. Some twenty or thirty feet down the path, they stood at the entrance to the central office, the shrine of the Great Quachi, and they watched their youngest son approach the greatest Lord of them all.
#
The thatch roof ended and the walls opened into the central chamber. In the center of the circular office sat a little man on a round stone platform. Shriveled and old, the Great Quachi had deeply wrinkled skin and a round bald head that seemed too big for his body. His chin lay upon his chest; he was either sleeping or deep in thought.
Tlati stopped a few feet away from the Lord and shouted, “Quachi! Great Quachi, you must help us!”
The family watched in horror, but also relief, as the youngest boy delivered their prayer to the Caller Down of the Rain.
The shriveled old man raised his head and blinked repeatedly as if the sunlight were too powerful for his old eyes.
“You must play your flute and bring the rain,” Tlati implored. “The land is dried up, the crops are failing and the people are suffering. Please bring back the rain!”
The old man spoke slowly, as if it were a great effort to push out the words. “You want,” he said, and gasped for breath. “Rain?”
“Yes. That is why the people come here every year, just after the harvest, to beg the Great Lord of the Sky for rain to water our crops and bring us abundance once more.”
The old man bent his head and sighed, but he did not speak.
Tlati urged, “We need your help. Our fields are parched and our livestock thirsty. We must have rain.”
“So sorry,” Quachi said. “The sky contains no rain for my flute to call down.”
“But you are the Lord! You may command it!”
Tlati had expected some sort of guards, or even his own brothers, to come and fetch him from this place. Apparently there were no guards. He did not have permission to enter, but his family was also forbidden to come into the presence of the Great Quachi. They waited outside the doorway, peering in but not daring to set foot inside.
“The sky,” the Lord said slowly and painfully, “has no rain to give.”
“None at all?”
“None.”
“Then what shall we do?” the boy implored,
“Go. Find a new land where the sky gives rain freely and in abundance.” The words came out slowly and with long pauses in between, but the Lord said them with authority and the boy obeyed.
Tlati bowed before the Lord, begged his forgiveness for this intrusion and walked slowly backwards until he was outside the central office and in the hallway with his family.
#
The family walked home in silence. His brothers did not tell their usual stories, having no stories as great as this one to tell. Tlati felt the need to consider the story in his heart, so he did not tell it for many years after the family had packed up their meager possessions and faded away into the forest, far from the desiccated fields of their former home, far from the Lord of Hopelessness.
* * *
Monday, December 13, 2010
A great book about gnosticism and such
`
I just got this email about great book of interviews covering gnosticism and such!
For several years, Miguel Conner has engaged the most prominent writers and scholars on Gnosticism and early Christianity on Aeon Byte Gnostic Radio. These interviews with 13 leading scholars represent one of the best ways to get to know ancient Gnosticism, the movement that has inspired Dan Brown, Philip Pullman, Philip K. Dick and The Matrix movies. Read what the best minds have to say about the Gnostic sects, the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Judas, Mary Magdalene, heresy, the origins of Gnosticism, and the original teachings of Jesus.
Purchase through Amazon.com
Purchase Kindle version through Amazon.com
Elaine Pagels • Marvin Meyer • Bart Ehrman • Bruce Chilton • Stevan Davies • David Fideler • Birger Pearson • John Turner • Einar Thomassen • Jason BeDuhn • Karen King • Jane Schaberg • April DeConick
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--
Bardic Press
http://www.bardic-press.com
~~~
~~~
I just got this email about great book of interviews covering gnosticism and such!
For several years, Miguel Conner has engaged the most prominent writers and scholars on Gnosticism and early Christianity on Aeon Byte Gnostic Radio. These interviews with 13 leading scholars represent one of the best ways to get to know ancient Gnosticism, the movement that has inspired Dan Brown, Philip Pullman, Philip K. Dick and The Matrix movies. Read what the best minds have to say about the Gnostic sects, the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Judas, Mary Magdalene, heresy, the origins of Gnosticism, and the original teachings of Jesus.
Purchase through Amazon.com
Purchase Kindle version through Amazon.com
Elaine Pagels • Marvin Meyer • Bart Ehrman • Bruce Chilton • Stevan Davies • David Fideler • Birger Pearson • John Turner • Einar Thomassen • Jason BeDuhn • Karen King • Jane Schaberg • April DeConick
"a terrific and approachable read. It's a current snapshot of academic readings in Gnosticism without requiring a PhD. to follow it (a common enough criticism for those encountering these ideas for the first time). Certainly the most readable book on the subject to come out this year, and top of the Christmas list for your local Gnostic."
Jordan Stratford
“Gets at the Gnostics as they were, not as many people today would like them to be.”
Bruce Chilton, author of The Way of Jesus and Rabbi Paul
“Aeon Byte is one of the most exciting and far-seeing programs in the world of Webcasting.”
Richard Smoley, author of Forbidden Faith, The Dice Game of Shiva, and Inner Christianity
“A great help to all who possess an interest in and/or devotion to the Gnostic tradition. Warmly recommended!”
Stephan Hoeller, author of Gnosticism: New Light on the Ancient Tradition of Inner Knowing and Jung and the Lost Gospels
“An invaluable resource for those interested in the history and continuing relevance of Gnosticism.”
Sean Martin, author of The Gnostics: The First Christian Heretics, The Cathars, and The Knights Templar
“Sophia and her aeonic friends should be delighted.”
Marvin Meyer, author of The Gospel of Thomas: The Hidden Sayings of Jesus, The Gospels of Mary
“You are holding in your hands a Gnostic gem, a book that contains the rich wisdom of thirteen world-renowned scholars who study Gnosticism and the classical world.”
April D. DeConick, author of The Thirteenth Apostle
--
Bardic Press
http://www.bardic-press.com
~~~
~~~
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
PKD memoir reviewed
`
Firebright has been reviewed at sfbook dot com:
http://sfbook.com/remembering-firebright.htm
~~~
Excerpt from the review:
Much of the writing that concerns PKD's visions, hallucinations or beliefs are told without prejudice or judgement, it's left up to the reader to decide what they believe he really saw and felt.
I am also staggered to see just how many very famous people PKD knew, which include the great scifi authors Robert Heinlein, Robert Silverberg, KW Jeter (who wrote a sequel to Bladerunner) and even a phone call from the late John Lennon.
Remembering Firebright is a bittersweet journey told in an raw, honest and heartfelt way, a must for any PKD fan.
~~~
Firebright has been reviewed at sfbook dot com:
http://sfbook.com/remembering-firebright.htm
~~~
Excerpt from the review:
Much of the writing that concerns PKD's visions, hallucinations or beliefs are told without prejudice or judgement, it's left up to the reader to decide what they believe he really saw and felt.
I am also staggered to see just how many very famous people PKD knew, which include the great scifi authors Robert Heinlein, Robert Silverberg, KW Jeter (who wrote a sequel to Bladerunner) and even a phone call from the late John Lennon.
Remembering Firebright is a bittersweet journey told in an raw, honest and heartfelt way, a must for any PKD fan.
~~~
Monday, December 6, 2010
Mnemosyne - memory
`
In Greek myth. Mnemosyne was the goddess of memory and the mother of the Muses*. She resided over a pool in Hades where dead souls could drink and recover their memories of life in some place other than Earth - some would call it Paradise or the Elysian Fields.
Most dead souls were supposed to drink from the river Lethe in order to forget their earthly sorrows, so they would not remember their past lives when they reincarnated.
Initiates into the Orphic mysteries were encouraged to drink from the pool of remembering, without drinking from the river of forgetfulness. In that way, they could remember all their past lives, including their life in Paradise or the Elysian fields.
Sometimes I think that I should have drunk from the river of forgetfulness. I have distinct memories of playing in a room filled with white light, waiting to be born into this life. I did not want to choose the family that Grandfather showed us on the screen, and neither did any of my five companions, but Grandfather refused to let any of us get born until one of us chose that family.
Grandfather looked like the Bible illustrations of Moses - tall, white hair and long beard, wearing a white robe and carrying a walking stick. He spent most of his time working in the garden just outside our play room.
We were all children, about 6 years old, and although we had fun in the play room, we all wanted to get born.
~~~
* The nine Muses were the children of Mnemosyne and Zeus. Three of them, the best known Muses, were those who spun the thread of life (Clotho), measured that thread (Lachesis) and cut the thread (Atropos).
~~~
In Greek myth. Mnemosyne was the goddess of memory and the mother of the Muses*. She resided over a pool in Hades where dead souls could drink and recover their memories of life in some place other than Earth - some would call it Paradise or the Elysian Fields.
Most dead souls were supposed to drink from the river Lethe in order to forget their earthly sorrows, so they would not remember their past lives when they reincarnated.
Initiates into the Orphic mysteries were encouraged to drink from the pool of remembering, without drinking from the river of forgetfulness. In that way, they could remember all their past lives, including their life in Paradise or the Elysian fields.
Sometimes I think that I should have drunk from the river of forgetfulness. I have distinct memories of playing in a room filled with white light, waiting to be born into this life. I did not want to choose the family that Grandfather showed us on the screen, and neither did any of my five companions, but Grandfather refused to let any of us get born until one of us chose that family.
Grandfather looked like the Bible illustrations of Moses - tall, white hair and long beard, wearing a white robe and carrying a walking stick. He spent most of his time working in the garden just outside our play room.
We were all children, about 6 years old, and although we had fun in the play room, we all wanted to get born.
~~~
* The nine Muses were the children of Mnemosyne and Zeus. Three of them, the best known Muses, were those who spun the thread of life (Clotho), measured that thread (Lachesis) and cut the thread (Atropos).
~~~
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Three books to review - where to start?
`
Three books to review - where to start?
Beyond Vision by Merlin Spinoza
The Guardians by Bob Ryan
A Kindred Spirit by ej Morgan
Sadly, Merlin Spinoza passed away last April, so I guess he won't mind if I move his book to the bottom of the list. It is an amazing tale of alternate worlds, but it can wait.
I haven't actually opened Bob Ryan's book, a paranormal murder mystery, although I do very much look forward to reading it.
So let's start with ej Morgan's book, A Kindred Spirit. I've read a few pages, and it is a page turner, but life keeps interfering with art. So here's some info from the author's blog, plus a link to the blog:
AKS is short for A Kindred Spirit, a new novel. "What's it about?" you ask. Now famous "sci-Fi" writer Philip K Dick is dead, but he's not done. Join Phil (the Prince of Pulp), his long-dead "cross-bonded" cohort Bishop James Pike, and young investigative reporter Niki Perceval on a journey through time and space to discover what's really real.
http://blog.aksbook.com/
~~~
Three books to review - where to start?
Beyond Vision by Merlin Spinoza
The Guardians by Bob Ryan
A Kindred Spirit by ej Morgan
Sadly, Merlin Spinoza passed away last April, so I guess he won't mind if I move his book to the bottom of the list. It is an amazing tale of alternate worlds, but it can wait.
I haven't actually opened Bob Ryan's book, a paranormal murder mystery, although I do very much look forward to reading it.
So let's start with ej Morgan's book, A Kindred Spirit. I've read a few pages, and it is a page turner, but life keeps interfering with art. So here's some info from the author's blog, plus a link to the blog:
AKS is short for A Kindred Spirit, a new novel. "What's it about?" you ask. Now famous "sci-Fi" writer Philip K Dick is dead, but he's not done. Join Phil (the Prince of Pulp), his long-dead "cross-bonded" cohort Bishop James Pike, and young investigative reporter Niki Perceval on a journey through time and space to discover what's really real.
http://blog.aksbook.com/
~~~
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Relativity and epicycles - plasma physics and the electro-magnetic universe
`
The complex sets of equations employed in metric tensors and Lorentzian transformations remind me of the epicycles that mathematicians used to calculate in an attempt to explain the movements of the planets while maintaining an Earth-centered model of the universe.
An oversimplified explanation of metric tensors is that they explain the different experiences of space-time between observers who are traveling at different velocities, assuming that at least one of them is moving at a velocity that is closer to the speed of light than what we experience inside Earth's gravity well.
It seems to me that we need a simpler model of space-time, just as the medieval astronomers needed a simpler model of the solar system.
The model that appeals most to me is electro-magnetic in nature. When gravity is removed from the equations, and replaced with electro-magnetism, it becomes possible to unify the field theories and achieve a much simpler model of space-time than those which employ strings and ten or eleven dimensions. This might be the beginning of the "theory of everything".
Edward Leedskalnin, who built the Coral Castle in Florida, said that he had discovered that gravity was electro-magnetic in nature. Perhaps that is how he managed to move huge blocks of stone with no outside help. He also claimed that he had discovered the secret of the Egyptian pyramid-builders. Perhaps they had found a way to align the magnetic dipoles inside huge stones, using magnetic repulsion to make them light enough to move into place.
In any case, the theory that I am developing involves four kinds of matter. You probably have heard of matter and anti-matter, but I postulate two additional kinds of matter, for a total of four, which I denote ++, --, +- and -+, like the four squares on a Cartesian plane. If matter (++) and anti-matter (--) meet, they mutually annihilate. However, if matter (++) or anti-matter (--) meets one of the other two types, +- or -+, they only partially annihilate, releasing energy without total destruction of either type of matter.
These other two types of matter, in my model, consist of plasma, the fourth state of matter. Most of us are familiar with the three states of matter, as illustrated by water, which is a solid when frozen, a liquid when melted and a gas when evaporated. The fourth state, plasma, exists when the molecules are ripped apart, so you no longer have water, but you have a gas-like cloud of ionized atoms. The molecules have been ripped apart, leaving their constituent atoms, and the electrons have been removed from the nuclei, so the plasma is ionized. The nuclei have a positive charge, while the electrons have a negative charge.
We can see a plasma in a neon sign or a fluorescent light bulb. Plasmas are common throughout the universe, even in what we regard as "empty" space.
When an electrical current runs through a plasma, matter can form. In fact, it forms in such a way that it can easily explain why some galaxies (such as our own Milky Way) are spiral discs. If they were formed by the force of gravity, then all the galaxies ought to be spherical, not flattened.
More later - my head hurts.
8-)
~~~~~~~~
The complex sets of equations employed in metric tensors and Lorentzian transformations remind me of the epicycles that mathematicians used to calculate in an attempt to explain the movements of the planets while maintaining an Earth-centered model of the universe.
An oversimplified explanation of metric tensors is that they explain the different experiences of space-time between observers who are traveling at different velocities, assuming that at least one of them is moving at a velocity that is closer to the speed of light than what we experience inside Earth's gravity well.
It seems to me that we need a simpler model of space-time, just as the medieval astronomers needed a simpler model of the solar system.
The model that appeals most to me is electro-magnetic in nature. When gravity is removed from the equations, and replaced with electro-magnetism, it becomes possible to unify the field theories and achieve a much simpler model of space-time than those which employ strings and ten or eleven dimensions. This might be the beginning of the "theory of everything".
Edward Leedskalnin, who built the Coral Castle in Florida, said that he had discovered that gravity was electro-magnetic in nature. Perhaps that is how he managed to move huge blocks of stone with no outside help. He also claimed that he had discovered the secret of the Egyptian pyramid-builders. Perhaps they had found a way to align the magnetic dipoles inside huge stones, using magnetic repulsion to make them light enough to move into place.
In any case, the theory that I am developing involves four kinds of matter. You probably have heard of matter and anti-matter, but I postulate two additional kinds of matter, for a total of four, which I denote ++, --, +- and -+, like the four squares on a Cartesian plane. If matter (++) and anti-matter (--) meet, they mutually annihilate. However, if matter (++) or anti-matter (--) meets one of the other two types, +- or -+, they only partially annihilate, releasing energy without total destruction of either type of matter.
These other two types of matter, in my model, consist of plasma, the fourth state of matter. Most of us are familiar with the three states of matter, as illustrated by water, which is a solid when frozen, a liquid when melted and a gas when evaporated. The fourth state, plasma, exists when the molecules are ripped apart, so you no longer have water, but you have a gas-like cloud of ionized atoms. The molecules have been ripped apart, leaving their constituent atoms, and the electrons have been removed from the nuclei, so the plasma is ionized. The nuclei have a positive charge, while the electrons have a negative charge.
We can see a plasma in a neon sign or a fluorescent light bulb. Plasmas are common throughout the universe, even in what we regard as "empty" space.
When an electrical current runs through a plasma, matter can form. In fact, it forms in such a way that it can easily explain why some galaxies (such as our own Milky Way) are spiral discs. If they were formed by the force of gravity, then all the galaxies ought to be spherical, not flattened.
More later - my head hurts.
8-)
~~~~~~~~
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Adversary
`
A postscript to the "Pink Light" experience:
Satan is the god of this world, the Adversary who accuses us of all our sin. He would convict us if he could, but Satan is not our judge. He is only the prosecuting attorney.
Remember that the Devil has no real power over you. He is the Father of Lies.
Lucifer, Apollyon, the Day Star, Son of the Morning, Satan or the Devil under any name is the Enemy.
So whenever you encounter anything spiritual, ask yourself whether it is sent from God or the "other guy".
The Serpent in the Garden of Eden was beautiful, but it was also deceptive. It allowed the Devil to enter into it. The Devil, that Old Serpent, can appear as an Angel of Light, shining and beautiful.
So beware!
~~~
A postscript to the "Pink Light" experience:
Satan is the god of this world, the Adversary who accuses us of all our sin. He would convict us if he could, but Satan is not our judge. He is only the prosecuting attorney.
Remember that the Devil has no real power over you. He is the Father of Lies.
Lucifer, Apollyon, the Day Star, Son of the Morning, Satan or the Devil under any name is the Enemy.
So whenever you encounter anything spiritual, ask yourself whether it is sent from God or the "other guy".
The Serpent in the Garden of Eden was beautiful, but it was also deceptive. It allowed the Devil to enter into it. The Devil, that Old Serpent, can appear as an Angel of Light, shining and beautiful.
So beware!
~~~
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Why I distrust the pink light
`
My husband Philip K. Dick thought that God had sent the pink light experience to help him fight off demonic attacks, but I am not so certain.
Satan, Lucifer, the Devil himself is an angel of light. He is referred to as the Day Star - not the Morning Star, as some mistranslations have it, but the Day Star. (The Morning Star is Venus, and the Day Star is Mars.)
So the experience of a pink light shining on the bedroom wall and the later experience of a tiny ball of blue light dancing around the room seem suspicious to my mind.
We tend to expect the Devil to appear as an ugly creature with horns, hooves and a tail, but he is the most beautiful of all the angels, the crowning cherub in the Garden on Eden.
Many secret societies worship the Greek god Apollo, which is also Lucifer. The Shining Apollo, god of music, mathematics, reason and prophecy, is Lucifer under another name. He is a false god. Apollo is the most handsome of gods, as handsome as Adonis whom Venus loved.
I explore these and other ideas in my book 2012 and Beyond: Ancient Secrets and Mysteries, available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
~~~
My husband Philip K. Dick thought that God had sent the pink light experience to help him fight off demonic attacks, but I am not so certain.
Satan, Lucifer, the Devil himself is an angel of light. He is referred to as the Day Star - not the Morning Star, as some mistranslations have it, but the Day Star. (The Morning Star is Venus, and the Day Star is Mars.)
So the experience of a pink light shining on the bedroom wall and the later experience of a tiny ball of blue light dancing around the room seem suspicious to my mind.
We tend to expect the Devil to appear as an ugly creature with horns, hooves and a tail, but he is the most beautiful of all the angels, the crowning cherub in the Garden on Eden.
Many secret societies worship the Greek god Apollo, which is also Lucifer. The Shining Apollo, god of music, mathematics, reason and prophecy, is Lucifer under another name. He is a false god. Apollo is the most handsome of gods, as handsome as Adonis whom Venus loved.
I explore these and other ideas in my book 2012 and Beyond: Ancient Secrets and Mysteries, available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble.
~~~
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Underground bunkers
`
Jesse Ventura's "Conspiracy Theory" program on the Tru TV cable channel ran an installment on underground bunkers, which are supposedly designed to house the elite during the destruction caused by a huge solar flare predicted to scorch the Earth in 2012.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOWWIDT910I
There probably will be some kind of global disaster, either real or staged, in or around 2012. However, those bunkers are not what you think they are. They are not for the elite; they are for us.
We will pound on the doors, begging, pleading, demanding to be let in. And they will let us in but they will never let us out.
Read Philip K. Dick's novel The Penultimate Truth.
You shall know that truth, and the truth will set you free.
~~~
Jesse Ventura's "Conspiracy Theory" program on the Tru TV cable channel ran an installment on underground bunkers, which are supposedly designed to house the elite during the destruction caused by a huge solar flare predicted to scorch the Earth in 2012.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOWWIDT910I
There probably will be some kind of global disaster, either real or staged, in or around 2012. However, those bunkers are not what you think they are. They are not for the elite; they are for us.
We will pound on the doors, begging, pleading, demanding to be let in. And they will let us in but they will never let us out.
Read Philip K. Dick's novel The Penultimate Truth.
You shall know that truth, and the truth will set you free.
~~~
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Firebright excerpt
`
Phil was just getting over his shoulder surgery, when our son had to have surgery for an inguinal hernia. I had taken the baby to our family doctor in July because I observed strange symptoms when I changed his diapers, but the doctor told me that I wasn’t cleaning him well enough. I knew that it had to be something more, but I thought that it could wait. I never said anything to Phil, but I did plan to go back to the doctor and ask him to check more carefully. One morning in September, Phil was taking one of his frequent naps while I cooked breakfast. Christopher was still in his crib, babbling happily while he played with his toys. Phil got out of bed and walked down the hall, calling to me to get the doctor. At first I thought that Phil needed medical help, but then he told me that our baby had an inguinal hernia and was in danger of dying if it strangulated. He looked as if he were in a hypnotic trance. Now, Phil did not change diapers, and I had not discussed this with him, but he said that he had heard our son telling him about the hernia. Christopher knew a few words, such as “Dada” and “Mama”, but he was only fourteen months old and couldn’t possibly have said anything about an inguinal hernia.
The family doctor referred us to a specialist who said that the baby could have died if we had allowed him to cry, as many parents do when they want their babies to start sleeping through the night and skipping the two o’clock feeding. The stress and muscle contractions of crying and screaming could cause the hernia to strangulate, cutting off the blood flow and killing him. We had tried to ignore the baby’s crying in the middle of the night, but we couldn’t stand it. We had shared an intuition that this baby must not be allowed to cry, even if it meant spoiling him and losing sleep, ourselves. The surgeon repaired the hernia and removed two hydrocoels, a type of liquid-filled cyst. When Phil wrote about this, he demonstrated a total lack of knowledge by stating, “it popped the hydroseal”. Yet when he had told me to call the doctor, he had everything right.
Shortly after our son’s surgery, the electronic equipment was removed from the apartment next door and two young men moved in. Phil experienced his final “pink light” vision shortly before then. First he saw the cover of a classical music album appear on the bedroom wall, framed by a border of pink light. Then he saw a huge cat’s paw rake its claws across the bedroom wall, drawing a musical score in pink light across the album cover. He couldn’t read the title or composer of the music, but the conductor’s name was Herbert Von Karyan. Phil haunted the record store until he found an album with that cover, and he brought it home and listened to it for hours on end. It was a Schubert symphony, but I don’t remember which one. He insisted that the instrumental music (it had no vocals) contained some kind of code.
You can read more when you purchase my book Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright
through the link to my Amazon store on the right or from Barnes & Noble, as well as other online stores.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phil was just getting over his shoulder surgery, when our son had to have surgery for an inguinal hernia. I had taken the baby to our family doctor in July because I observed strange symptoms when I changed his diapers, but the doctor told me that I wasn’t cleaning him well enough. I knew that it had to be something more, but I thought that it could wait. I never said anything to Phil, but I did plan to go back to the doctor and ask him to check more carefully. One morning in September, Phil was taking one of his frequent naps while I cooked breakfast. Christopher was still in his crib, babbling happily while he played with his toys. Phil got out of bed and walked down the hall, calling to me to get the doctor. At first I thought that Phil needed medical help, but then he told me that our baby had an inguinal hernia and was in danger of dying if it strangulated. He looked as if he were in a hypnotic trance. Now, Phil did not change diapers, and I had not discussed this with him, but he said that he had heard our son telling him about the hernia. Christopher knew a few words, such as “Dada” and “Mama”, but he was only fourteen months old and couldn’t possibly have said anything about an inguinal hernia.
The family doctor referred us to a specialist who said that the baby could have died if we had allowed him to cry, as many parents do when they want their babies to start sleeping through the night and skipping the two o’clock feeding. The stress and muscle contractions of crying and screaming could cause the hernia to strangulate, cutting off the blood flow and killing him. We had tried to ignore the baby’s crying in the middle of the night, but we couldn’t stand it. We had shared an intuition that this baby must not be allowed to cry, even if it meant spoiling him and losing sleep, ourselves. The surgeon repaired the hernia and removed two hydrocoels, a type of liquid-filled cyst. When Phil wrote about this, he demonstrated a total lack of knowledge by stating, “it popped the hydroseal”. Yet when he had told me to call the doctor, he had everything right.
Shortly after our son’s surgery, the electronic equipment was removed from the apartment next door and two young men moved in. Phil experienced his final “pink light” vision shortly before then. First he saw the cover of a classical music album appear on the bedroom wall, framed by a border of pink light. Then he saw a huge cat’s paw rake its claws across the bedroom wall, drawing a musical score in pink light across the album cover. He couldn’t read the title or composer of the music, but the conductor’s name was Herbert Von Karyan. Phil haunted the record store until he found an album with that cover, and he brought it home and listened to it for hours on end. It was a Schubert symphony, but I don’t remember which one. He insisted that the instrumental music (it had no vocals) contained some kind of code.
You can read more when you purchase my book Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright
through the link to my Amazon store on the right or from Barnes & Noble, as well as other online stores.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
God spoke over the bedside radio
What we were supposed to discuss in the second segment of Darkness Radio, when I got bumped for a last-minute ghost story, was the voice of God, like the sound of thunder or maybe like the voice of Darth Vader, speaking on the bedside radio.
Phil was lying in bed one afternoon, when he heard the voice of God telling him that his infant son had a hernia and needed immediate medical attention. Guess what? God was right.
Learn more in my memoir, Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright.
Available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other web sites, and easy to order through brick and mortar book stores, if they don't happen to have it in stock.
~~~
Phil was lying in bed one afternoon, when he heard the voice of God telling him that his infant son had a hernia and needed immediate medical attention. Guess what? God was right.
Learn more in my memoir, Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright.
Available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and other web sites, and easy to order through brick and mortar book stores, if they don't happen to have it in stock.
~~~
Monday, November 8, 2010
Encounter with ambush radio
`
If you caught the heavily edited podcast, you did not hear what happened live on KTLK, when I did the host a favor and filled in for a guest who had canceled at the last minute. It does sound much better than what happened on the live show, when I was constantly interrupted and sidetracked onto tangents. Most importantly, they edited out the little speech by the host in which he said that he had to let me go because I was not as organized as I had been in the pre-interview. Please note that there was no pre-interview. There was only a request for me to come on in the place of a guest who had canceled. No pre-interview.
You learn something new every day, and the learning experience is not always pleasant.
Several days ago, I filled out a form on a web site where the media request experts.
Monday afternoon a radio talk show host asked me at the last minute to fill in tonight for a guest who canceled. He sounded nice, so I said yes.
But almost as soon as the interview began, he got confrontational, and soon he started attacking me. I did my best to remain calm and sweet, and to agree with him wherever possible.
He led me way off track with questions that did not relate to what I put on the web site form, and then he shut me down and told the audience that I had been more coherent in the pre-interview. What pre-interview? There was no pre-interview.
I'm shaking and upset. I'm going to bed.
At least he put in a plug for my book, and he let me give the url for this blog.
~~~
If you caught the heavily edited podcast, you did not hear what happened live on KTLK, when I did the host a favor and filled in for a guest who had canceled at the last minute. It does sound much better than what happened on the live show, when I was constantly interrupted and sidetracked onto tangents. Most importantly, they edited out the little speech by the host in which he said that he had to let me go because I was not as organized as I had been in the pre-interview. Please note that there was no pre-interview. There was only a request for me to come on in the place of a guest who had canceled. No pre-interview.
You learn something new every day, and the learning experience is not always pleasant.
Several days ago, I filled out a form on a web site where the media request experts.
Monday afternoon a radio talk show host asked me at the last minute to fill in tonight for a guest who canceled. He sounded nice, so I said yes.
But almost as soon as the interview began, he got confrontational, and soon he started attacking me. I did my best to remain calm and sweet, and to agree with him wherever possible.
He led me way off track with questions that did not relate to what I put on the web site form, and then he shut me down and told the audience that I had been more coherent in the pre-interview. What pre-interview? There was no pre-interview.
I'm shaking and upset. I'm going to bed.
At least he put in a plug for my book, and he let me give the url for this blog.
~~~
Monday, October 25, 2010
Is There Life After Death?
Interview with Anthony Peake, author of Cheating the Ferryman, on BBC radio.
An alternative theory to reincarnation, not involving Heaven, but more about alternate worlds.
The interview is available for the next six days,
http://www.anthonypeake.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=1515&sid=a5b07c01dc0548eaeb211eb2a6e48ba5
Fascinating discussion.
~~~
Update:
It is now up on the iPlayer:
http://www.facebook.com/l/
~~~
An alternative theory to reincarnation, not involving Heaven, but more about alternate worlds.
The interview is available for the next six days,
http://www.anthonypeake.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=6&t=1515&sid=a5b07c01dc0548eaeb211eb2a6e48ba5
Fascinating discussion.
~~~
Update:
It is now up on the iPlayer:
http://www.facebook.com/l/
~~~
Saturday, October 23, 2010
He heard the voice of God on the bedside radio
~
In March 1974, Philip K. Dick (Bladderunner) began hearing the voice of God on his bedside radio.
But the story begins back in 1970, when he received a telephone call from Dr. Timothy Leary, the LSD guru whom President Richard Nixon called "the most dangerous man in America".
Learn how mysterious people who claimed to belong to a super secret government organization terrorized the science fiction author until he left the country, only to return with no money but a head full of ideas for his next novel, A Scanner Darkly.
Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright
available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online book stores.
Firebright on Amazon
~~~
Learn more on my other blog:
http://pkdmemoir.blogspot.com/
~~~
In March 1974, Philip K. Dick (Bladderunner) began hearing the voice of God on his bedside radio.
But the story begins back in 1970, when he received a telephone call from Dr. Timothy Leary, the LSD guru whom President Richard Nixon called "the most dangerous man in America".
Learn how mysterious people who claimed to belong to a super secret government organization terrorized the science fiction author until he left the country, only to return with no money but a head full of ideas for his next novel, A Scanner Darkly.
Philip K. Dick: Remembering Firebright
available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online book stores.
Firebright on Amazon
~~~
Learn more on my other blog:
http://pkdmemoir.blogspot.com/
~~~
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Myth and magic
For thousands of years, people have worshiped the planets Venus and Mars, often without knowing it. Velikovsky had a piece of the truth, as does Richard C. Hoagland.
In ancient times, people were terrified of the planet Mars. Why? The planet Venus sometimes passed close to the Earth, but Mars did so more often and with more devastating effects.
Ancient ritualistic magic and blood sacrifice were feeble attempts to stop Mars from passing close to Earth and causing devastating floods, fires and earthquakes. The long day of Joshua was probably due to a close pass by Mars, as described by Chuck Missler.
Many modern occult practices go back to the dimly seen ancient past, when powerful leaders took advantage of the superstitions of the masses. Certainly, when the Aztecs ripped out the hearts of their victims, that sacrifice could not stop Mars or Venus from coming near to Earth, but it worked because those planets had already settled into their present orbits. The temple prostitutes in ancient Sumer were not serving the gods, but rather enriching the warlords.
But in ancient Sumer, there was a real possibility that one of those rogue planets would come close to Earth.
An awesome force must have knocked those planets out of their proper orbits, and they have only recently settled down into their present places in the sky.
Mars must once have been a moon of a much larger planet, a planet that exploded and formed the asteroid belt plus a few other fragments. Some of those fragments probably got caught up in Jupiter's gravity, while others continued moving outward to form Pluto and the other planetoids and comets in the far distant reaches of our solar system.
Other fragments must have hurtled toward the inner solar system, giving Earth the Moon, while others fell into the sun and were vaporized. The planet Mercury might be a large fragment that managed to escape destruction.
What was life like for the survivors of that ancient catastrophe? In my novel Origins, Part One: Thor's Hammer, I explore the lives of people who take refuge on the prison planet Earth after their home planet is destroyed in an interplanetary war.
Available on Amazon.
~~~
In ancient times, people were terrified of the planet Mars. Why? The planet Venus sometimes passed close to the Earth, but Mars did so more often and with more devastating effects.
Ancient ritualistic magic and blood sacrifice were feeble attempts to stop Mars from passing close to Earth and causing devastating floods, fires and earthquakes. The long day of Joshua was probably due to a close pass by Mars, as described by Chuck Missler.
Many modern occult practices go back to the dimly seen ancient past, when powerful leaders took advantage of the superstitions of the masses. Certainly, when the Aztecs ripped out the hearts of their victims, that sacrifice could not stop Mars or Venus from coming near to Earth, but it worked because those planets had already settled into their present orbits. The temple prostitutes in ancient Sumer were not serving the gods, but rather enriching the warlords.
But in ancient Sumer, there was a real possibility that one of those rogue planets would come close to Earth.
An awesome force must have knocked those planets out of their proper orbits, and they have only recently settled down into their present places in the sky.
Mars must once have been a moon of a much larger planet, a planet that exploded and formed the asteroid belt plus a few other fragments. Some of those fragments probably got caught up in Jupiter's gravity, while others continued moving outward to form Pluto and the other planetoids and comets in the far distant reaches of our solar system.
Other fragments must have hurtled toward the inner solar system, giving Earth the Moon, while others fell into the sun and were vaporized. The planet Mercury might be a large fragment that managed to escape destruction.
What was life like for the survivors of that ancient catastrophe? In my novel Origins, Part One: Thor's Hammer, I explore the lives of people who take refuge on the prison planet Earth after their home planet is destroyed in an interplanetary war.
Available on Amazon.
~~~
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
What if Richard Hoagland is right? What if we are the Martians?
What if we are the Martians?
What if Mars was once a moon of a larger planet, a planet that exploded and formed the asteroid belt?
What if the survivors of that ancient catastrophe took refuge on Earth?
Read my novel Origins Part One: Thor's Hammer, which explores what life must have been like for our ancient ancestors, if Richard Hoagland was right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What if Mars was once a moon of a larger planet, a planet that exploded and formed the asteroid belt?
What if the survivors of that ancient catastrophe took refuge on Earth?
Read my novel Origins Part One: Thor's Hammer, which explores what life must have been like for our ancient ancestors, if Richard Hoagland was right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Two PKD documents on eBay
Two documents, packaged together.
Two original documents -- Philip K Dick's handwritten note assigning half of the royalties from his novel A Scanner Darkly to me shortly before our marriage in 1973, and our marriage certificate.
These documents refer to me by my maiden name, Leslie Ann Busby.
The note is handwritten by Phil on a folded sheet of typing paper. The marriage certificate is slightly larger than half a sheet of typing paper.
The marriage certificate is signed by the minister and two witnesses: my father and one of our neighbors on Quartz Lane in Fullerton.
The sale of these documents will help me keep my home during these hard times.
You can find some of my books on Amazon.
~~ Tessa Busby Dick
~~~
These documents refer to me by my maiden name, Leslie Ann Busby.
The note is handwritten by Phil on a folded sheet of typing paper. The marriage certificate is slightly larger than half a sheet of typing paper.
The marriage certificate is signed by the minister and two witnesses: my father and one of our neighbors on Quartz Lane in Fullerton.
The sale of these documents will help me keep my home during these hard times.
You can find some of my books on Amazon.
~~ Tessa Busby Dick
~~~
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=180571166015&ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=180571166015&ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT
~~~
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Excerpt from Firebright
Chapter 2, The Prelude
After about than 35 years, I’ve finally put together some of the pieces of a puzzle that I once thought unsolvable. Why would some vast conspiracy, some ultra-secret organization with international resources, focus their efforts on a little known science fiction writer who was so poverty-stricken that he was forced to apply for government aid to feed his small child? This question occurred to Phil and others many times, but no answer seemed forthcoming. Recently, however, I came across information about Dr. Timothy Leary, with whom Phil had a passing acquaintance.
Dr. Leary spoke to Phil by telephone in 1969, several months before Leary’s conviction for possession of marijuana. President Nixon once called him “the most dangerous man in America”, due to his advocacy for the use of LSD and other psychotropic drugs. When he escaped from prison in 1970, all the resources of the federal government were marshaled to track him down. So that explains why Phil was under surveillance in 1971. He had come to the attention for the authorities because they wanted to put a stop to Leary’s call to “tune in, turn on and drop out”.
Timothy Leary, once the golden child at Harvard University for his work in personality profiling, had become a public enemy, considered more dangerous than the worst mob boss. Phil, in turn, had become a public enemy by association.
Phil’s wife Nancy was hospitalized for an extended period, and the royalties coming in from his books slowed to a trickle and then dried up, so he applied for state aid to ensure that his daughter Isa would have food and medical care. Phil began to notice that cars seemed to be following him when he drove to the grocery store. He wrote it off as paranoia, at first.
When Nancy came home, she seemed distant. Eventually, she left him for a neighbor who happened to be a member of the Black Panthers. To say the least, those circumstances did nothing to assuage Phil’s feelings of persecution. Left alone in a three-bedroom house, Phil began taking in roommates to relieve his feelings of loneliness and help to pay the bills. Gradually, without his noticing it at first, the little tract house in San Rafael, California, became known as a party house and a crash pad. People would come to visit, drink and take drugs, eat Phil’s food and fall asleep on the couch and the floor. Some of those people he knew, and others he did not. Some told him that the police suspected him of being a drug dealer, and that it was bad for his reputation to allow teenagers to hang around. He began dating a 19-year-old girl, and her friends naturally gravitated toward his house.
Most of these people did not read and had no idea what Phil did for a living. They were kids who liked to party, and his house was open to them.
All of these circumstances looked suspicious to any authorities who might notice him. And since he had already come to their attention because of his contact with Timothy Leary, they did notice him.
~~~
Believe it or not . . .
I've always been fascinated by the little bits of ancient history that you do not find in the textbooks, so I put together the bits and pieces of the past, pointing to the one truth that I know:
Whether you and I believe it or not, certain members of the wealthy and powerful elite do believe that they are descended from the gods.
2012 and Beyond:: Ancient Secrets and Mysteries
~~~
Whether you and I believe it or not, certain members of the wealthy and powerful elite do believe that they are descended from the gods.
2012 and Beyond:: Ancient Secrets and Mysteries
~~~
Epinions - my reviews of products and services
I've been reviewing products and services at Epinions for about ten years, and it's a great way to earn a little honest money. Please use the link below to read some of my reviews.
You can earn a little, too, by writing reviews of about 600 words about the things that you already have around the house. That includes books and movies. It won't make the house payment, but it will give you pocket money. And you get paid the same for saying that a product is no good, as you would for saying that it's great.
They do not have a referral program, so I do not get anything if you join. However, my income will be boosted a little bit if you read some of my reviews.
Thank you so much!
http://www1.epinions.com/user-busby777
http://www1.epinions.com/user-busby777
~~~
You can earn a little, too, by writing reviews of about 600 words about the things that you already have around the house. That includes books and movies. It won't make the house payment, but it will give you pocket money. And you get paid the same for saying that a product is no good, as you would for saying that it's great.
They do not have a referral program, so I do not get anything if you join. However, my income will be boosted a little bit if you read some of my reviews.
Thank you so much!
http://www1.epinions.com/user-busby777
http://www1.epinions.com/user-busby777
~~~
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
PKD memorabilia for sale
These items are now going up on eBay, along with other memorabilia.
First item on eBay, artist's sketch:
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=180570327057&ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=180570327057&ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT
I really need the $, to keep my utilities on and keep my house. I have nowhere to go, and no car to take me there. I will consider all serious offers.
You can bid on any of these items by contacting me by email -
tuffy777 @ gmail.com
Here's an image of Philip K. Dick's wristwatch, the one that he wore to the convention in Metz, France. It works, but it does need a new battery.
Please see the additional posts below for more items.
Thank you so much!
~~ Tessa Dick
~~~
First item on eBay, artist's sketch:
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=180570327057&ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=180570327057&ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT
I really need the $, to keep my utilities on and keep my house. I have nowhere to go, and no car to take me there. I will consider all serious offers.
You can bid on any of these items by contacting me by email -
tuffy777 @ gmail.com
Here's an image of Philip K. Dick's wristwatch, the one that he wore to the convention in Metz, France. It works, but it does need a new battery.
Please see the additional posts below for more items.
Thank you so much!
~~ Tessa Dick
~~~
Friday, September 24, 2010
many thanks!
Thanks to Henry and Lesley, my water bill is covered. Thank you so much!
But there's still the pesky house payment coming up on the first of October.
~~~
But there's still the pesky house payment coming up on the first of October.
~~~
Help!
If anybody wants to be an angel and help me, my immediate goal is to scrape up $100 by Monday, to keep my water service turned on.
You can email me or send Paypal at
tuffy777@gmail.com
I will keep track of any contributions and pay them all back as soon as I get on my feet.
Thank you so much!
You can email me or send Paypal at
tuffy777@gmail.com
I will keep track of any contributions and pay them all back as soon as I get on my feet.
Thank you so much!
Philip K. Dick original handwritten document
I have lost almost everything, and now I am losing the last of it. In order to stay in my home a couple months longer, I am selling everything that I have left. This handwritten document was Phil's way of making sure that I had my fair share of A Scanner Darkly, if anything happened to him. Phil wrote it by hand on a folded sheet of typing paper, shortly before we got married and I changed my name to Tessa Busby Dick.
~~~
It hurts me to sell this, but I am desperate, and it will not put food on the table or pay the rent.
Auction ends October 5, 2010. Minimum: $900.
~~~
Signed document - Philip K. Dick - assignment
Since this document is no longer of any use to me, and I'm about to be kicked out on to the street, it is for sale to the highest bidder. Minimum: $600. It is the original assignment of royalties, with my husband Philip K. Dick's signature. It relates to the novel A Scanner Darkly and the UBIK screenplay.
Auction ends October 5, 2010.
~~~
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Marriage certificate for sale
Marriage certificate of Leslie Ann Busby (me) and Philip K. Dick.
The original is for sale, if somebody bids high enough. (Hint: My house payment is $365.)
Auction ends October 5, 2010.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Even a man who is pure in heart - movie review, The Wolf Man (1941)
Recently, a VHS tape of The Wolf Man (1941) came into my hands, so of course I had to watch it. Several times. How could I pass up the chance to see Lon Chaney Jr., Claude Raines and Ralph Bellamy working together? Not to mention some beautiful ladies, plus the incomparable Bela Lugosi and Maria Ouspenskaya!
The werewolf story that used to strike terror into me when I was a child still terrifies me, but in a different way. I've come to see it as a morality tale. The true horror lies in the wolf man's inner struggle with his own conscience.
The black-and-white cinematography is so masterful that I barely noticed it until the third viewing, when I was consciously looking at it for the purposes of my review. The same principle applies to the music, which is seamlessly concordant with the story.
Please take a minute and read my review at Epinions:
Even a man who is pure in heart
http://www.epinions.com/review/mvie_mu-1023873/content_525201018500
Thank you so much!
~~~
The werewolf story that used to strike terror into me when I was a child still terrifies me, but in a different way. I've come to see it as a morality tale. The true horror lies in the wolf man's inner struggle with his own conscience.
The black-and-white cinematography is so masterful that I barely noticed it until the third viewing, when I was consciously looking at it for the purposes of my review. The same principle applies to the music, which is seamlessly concordant with the story.
Please take a minute and read my review at Epinions:
Even a man who is pure in heart
http://www.epinions.com/review/mvie_mu-1023873/content_525201018500
Thank you so much!
~~~
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Redstone - book review in a hurry
When I saw this title, Redstone, my first thought was rockets. Nope. The topic of this book is not science and not even science fiction, but it is a tale full of wonder. It's about a lost Indian tribe (Native American, that is), and an adventurer who is befriended by a cougar named Kitten.
No young swashbuckler, our hero is an old man who has lost his job, his wife and his health. He decides to take matters into his own hands, by the tail or whatever cliche you prefer, and he finds a hidden valley where his life begins anew.
A must read!
Redstone, by George Wright
http://www.secondwindpublishing.com/Redstone.html
~~~
No young swashbuckler, our hero is an old man who has lost his job, his wife and his health. He decides to take matters into his own hands, by the tail or whatever cliche you prefer, and he finds a hidden valley where his life begins anew.
A must read!
Redstone, by George Wright
http://www.secondwindpublishing.com/Redstone.html
~~~
Friday, September 10, 2010
Book review - I Think I Am Philip K. Dick, by Laurence A. Rickels
I have mixed feelings about this book, but I do recommend it for those with a deep interest in the work of Philip K. Dick.
Please follow the link to read my book review - I Think I Am Philip K. Dick, by Laurence A. Rickels
Epinions
http://www99.epinions.com/review/Book_I_Think_I_Am_Philip_K_Dick_Laurence_A_Rickels/content_524323360388
~~~
Please follow the link to read my book review - I Think I Am Philip K. Dick, by Laurence A. Rickels
Epinions
http://www99.epinions.com/review/Book_I_Think_I_Am_Philip_K_Dick_Laurence_A_Rickels/content_524323360388
~~~
Saturday, July 31, 2010
New cover for Firebright
Firebright has a new cover, thanks to Nick Buchanan. He's a real wizard with images!
~~~
Friday, July 23, 2010
Dr Steven Greer and Hon. Paul Hellyer Discuss ET/UFO Disclosure
Honestly, I don't believe that disclosure will ever happen, but this discussion is very interesting.
~~~
~~~
Monday, July 19, 2010
I Think I am Philip K. Dick - book review
A most interesting book came to me in the mail, along with a request to review it:
I Think I am Philip K. Dick
by Laurence A. Rickels
I looked forward to reading this book, but now I am sorry that I accepted a review copy from the publisher. I am forced to give it a mostly negative review.
Disclaimer: I must admit some bias, since I married Philip K. Dick and spent ten years with him (until his untimely death in 1982). However, time and distance have allowed me to take a more objective stance toward the man and his work. I no longer mourn his passing; I celebrate my own life and my living relatives.
Philip K. Dick was perhaps the greatest science fiction writer of the 20th century, and most critics consider his novels the work of a genius, despite their flaws. Struggling under the pressure of finances and deadlines, Philip K. Dick produced more than 35 novels and 150 short stories in his career, which was cut short when he suddenly died of a stroke at the age of 53. Better known authors, including Isaac Asimov (I, Robot, The Foundation) and Robert A. Heinlein (The Puppet Masters, Starship Troopers), admired Dick's work and considered it superior to their own.
Despite the title, this book really is not about Philip K. Dick. It is about the author, Laurence A. Rickels.
Moreover, he often writes entire paragraphs that say nothing, including sentences with internal contradictions. And he employs seven-syllable words and mile-long sentences to accomplish those feats.
For example, from the Introduction, which he calls "Introspection":
"On second thought, however, I recall Schreber's 'basic' notion of tested souls (a notion, in other words, of unpurified, unredeemed ghosts), which, among many other moments in Schreber's delusional system and alongside Freud's analysis of the anxieties involved in being tested, seem to give funereal foundation to the connection between Benjamin and Freud."
Note: The above quotation is one single sentence.
Academic work
Although not strictly an academic thesis, this book is an academic work by a professor, published by a university press. It covers most of Philip K. Dick's novels, at least in terms of chapter titles, but Rickels is primarily concerned with validating his own work through Dick's. He is particularly interested in validating the Faustian element of his own writing, by finding it as a source of inspiration for Dick's novels.
He begins by telling us that he avoided reading Dick's works while students kept recommending them, telling him how much his own writing was similar to Dick's in terms of ideas.
Perhaps the tale of Rickels' personal journey through the novels of Philip K. Dick would have been more interesting than what he has given us. This book is a dull, dry work too heavy with quoted material and devoid of novelty.
Dry, dull writing, with copious copying
Rickels covers ground that others have already explored in more interesting ways. He includes copious quotations from interviews that other authors conducted, most notably Gregg Rickman, as well as various experts in psychology, and Dick's own writing. He spends a bit too much space on the final interviews, which Gwen Lee and Doris Sauter published as What If Our World Is Their Heaven? In fact, his copying of long passages from the work of others borders on plagiarism and is mitigated only by the gaps between the quoted passages.
If you are waiting for Rickels to quit talking about himself, then you will be disappointed. If you want to read Rickels' personal experience with Dick's work, you will also be disappointed.
This book is really about the greatness of Rickels' own body of work, in light of its similarity to the work of Dick, whom Rickels portrays as a gifted madman who was lucky enough to have the idiot-savant talent for words.
For example, from the "Introspection":
"Dick's footing with psychosis allowed him to immerse himself in the legacy of melancholia or narcissism, the deep end of mankind's traditions/transmissions in all talk of life (and death)."
Biography or literary criticism?
Much of this book focuses on Philip K. Dick's early childhood, even though it purports to be about Dick's science fiction.
In fact, aside from long quoted passages, Rickels spends precious little space on analysis of Dick's work. For example the chapter titled "Indexical Layer", which purports analyze Dick's novel Deus Irae (co-authored with Roger Zelazny), summarizes the entire novel, drawing upon Lawrence Sutin's biographical work Divine Invasions for some semblance of analysis.
The next chapter, "Ilse", bears no relation to the subject at hand. It recounts the story of a woman who wrote a memoir about her experience of psychosis. Rickels' asserts that Dick read Ilse's story in a psychiatric case book, and he concludes that Dick spent his entire career following the same path of "striking up that balancing act between Shakespeare and Goethe"(page 169), as if one psychiatric case study had inspired a life's work of literary genius. In fact, most of Rickels' book asserts that all of Dick's work is Germanic, specifically Faustian. This seems to reflect Rickels' quest to define the devil in his own writing, a task that he admits to having put off for many years. Rickels obsesses about Faust, so he assumes that Dick also did.
Flat ending
The final chapter, "Das Hund", explores Dick's novel UBIK, which explored the possibility of communication with the dead. Unfortunately, this novel belongs to the middle of Dick's career, not the end. Rather than representing the culmination of Dick's philosophy and work, it marks only one of the questions that he asked along the way to his final novels, which have been published as the VALIS trilogy.
Ultimately Dick's work affirms life, love and salvation. Rickels wants it to affirm death, damnation and the devil.
Final thoughts
Although I do not like this book, and I find it seriously flawed, I am forced to recommend it for the quotations from other authors, especially the work of Gregg Rickman and that of Doris Sauter and Gwen Lee.
This book provides easy access to excerpts from works that might be difficult to find in their original form.
~~~
Thank you so much for reading my review!
~~~
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Book Review - From Utopia to Apocalypse, by Peter Y. Paik
Book Review - From Utopia to Apocalypse, by Peter Y. Paik
This dense, heavily foot-noted academic thesis is targeted more to the political scientist than to the science fiction reader. In fact, most of the "literature" cited consists of comic books and movies.
Reading the Introduction is like jogging through Jello. The thesis, clouded in a haze of equivocation, seems to be that the leadership must employ violent and repressive means to achieve and maintain Utopia, which of course is a contradiction and ultimately leads to failure. Paik explores the Soviet and Chinese Communist experiments, while conveniently overlooking the American experiment in liberty.
In the same way, Paik ignores the vast genre of science fiction while setting up superheroes as his examples of those who live under an obligation not to abuse their great gifts, no matter what the ultimate goal.
This book is interesting and belongs on the academic bookshelf, but do not expect to find an exploration of science fiction between its covers.
This dense, heavily foot-noted academic thesis is targeted more to the political scientist than to the science fiction reader. In fact, most of the "literature" cited consists of comic books and movies.
Reading the Introduction is like jogging through Jello. The thesis, clouded in a haze of equivocation, seems to be that the leadership must employ violent and repressive means to achieve and maintain Utopia, which of course is a contradiction and ultimately leads to failure. Paik explores the Soviet and Chinese Communist experiments, while conveniently overlooking the American experiment in liberty.
In the same way, Paik ignores the vast genre of science fiction while setting up superheroes as his examples of those who live under an obligation not to abuse their great gifts, no matter what the ultimate goal.
This book is interesting and belongs on the academic bookshelf, but do not expect to find an exploration of science fiction between its covers.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Celebrate Independence Day, July 4, 2010
We live in a Constitutional Republic, folks, NOT a Democracy.
Celebrate Independence Day, July 4, 2010
Celebrate Independence Day, July 4, 2010
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Aeon Byte Gnostic Radio -- interview available!
Miguel Conner's interview with Anthony Peake and me is now available on Aeon Byte!
Purr!
http://aeonbyte.blogspot.com/2010/06/tenth-entry-for-schrodiners-diary-tessa.html
Anthony Peake is the author of The Daemon, which includes a chapter about Philip K. Dick.
~~~
Purr!
http://aeonbyte.blogspot.com/2010/06/tenth-entry-for-schrodiners-diary-tessa.html
Anthony Peake is the author of The Daemon, which includes a chapter about Philip K. Dick.
~~~
Friday, May 28, 2010
Interviews done
Miguel Conner of Aeon Byte conducted an interview with Anthony Peake (author of The Daemon and Cheating the Ferryman) and me. Am looking forward to it. Will let everybody know when it's posted.
Meanwhile, X-zone interviewed me for their internationally syndicated radio program.
scroll down to the archives
Apple iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295327298
or
'X' Zone Podcasts : http://www.xzonepodcast.com
~~~
And Jeff and Guy of Mabus Incarnate also interviewed me.
http://thechurchofmabus.podbean.com/
Meanwhile, X-zone interviewed me for their internationally syndicated radio program.
scroll down to the archives
Apple iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295327298
or
'X' Zone Podcasts : http://www.xzonepodcast.com
~~~
And Jeff and Guy of Mabus Incarnate also interviewed me.
http://thechurchofmabus.podbean.com/
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Original Fiction
Lots of cool stuff to read, from Republibot!
http://republibot.com/content/republibot-original-fiction
~~~
http://republibot.com/content/republibot-original-fiction
~~~
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Strange deadly fungus, missing microbiologist
A deadly fungus is moving south in the American Northwest, killing people and animals in Washington state, Idaho and Oregon. The fungus, first found on British Columbia's Vancouver Island, is muchmore deadly than other strains. The spores can be carried on the wind or on shoes and clothing, and they can be picked up be walking on infected ground.
So how is this connected to a missing microbiologist?
So how is this connected to a missing microbiologist?
The same microbiologist, who declined to speak on the record and who recounted extensive fungus work at Fort Detrick, also stated that researchers at Israel's Institute for Biological Research, located in Ness-Ziona about 20 km from Tel Aviv, have worked with the Cryptococcus gatti fungus. They also report that mysterious Israeli-American scientist Joseph Moshe, 56 years old, may have conducted covert studies with the fungus while he was recently living in California. This report concerning Moshe is especially interesting because Moshe was briefly in the international spotlight in 2009 when he was the subject of a spectacular chase and arrest by the LA police department and SWAT team, assisted by the FBI, Secret Service, CIA, US Army and several other unidentified federal officials. That highly unusual arrest has never been fully explained to the media, and the whereabouts of Moshe has remained unknown since its occurrence. Compounding the mystery surrounding the Moshe case is that there is another scientist named Moshe Bar-Joseph who works in Israel and who looks remarkably like Joseph Moshe, except that he is about 20 years older.
Mystery Disease Linked to Missing Israeli Scientist
~~~
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Night owls more intelligent, study shows
Night owls are more intelligent than morning larks, according to a study published in Psychology Today.
In fact, the later you go to bed, up until about half past midnight, the more intelligent you are likely to be.
Unlike other species,
humans, unlike other mammalian species, have the unique ability, consciously and cognitively, to override their internal biological clock and its rhythmic outputs. In other words, at least for humans, circadian rhythm is not entirely a matter of genetics. Within broad genetic constraints, humans can choose what time to go to bed and get up. Humans can choose to be night owls or morning larks.
Why Night Owls Are More Intelligent than Morning Larks
~~~
Monday, May 3, 2010
X Zone interview done
May 3, 2010
my interview will be on the net after 8 tonight
(that might be Eastern Time, or 5 here on the West coast)
I got this message:
Thank you for being on The 'X' Zone
Thank you for being on the show with me yesterday, it was truly a pleasure speaking with you and I am sure our listeners will enjoy our conversation as much as I did.
Your interview is now available on the following sites after 8 pm Eastern tonight:
Apple iTunes: http://itunes.apple.com/WebObjects/MZStore.woa/wa/viewPodcast?id=295327298
'X' Zone Podcasts : http://www.xzonepodcast.com
~~~
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Interviews in the works
Miguel Conner of Aeon Byte is setting up an interview with Anthony Peake (author of The Daemon) and me. Am looking forward to it. Will let everybody know when it's available.
Meanwhile, X-zone is interviewing me for their internationally syndicated radio program.
~~~
Meanwhile, X-zone is interviewing me for their internationally syndicated radio program.
~~~
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
The Devil’s name is not Satan
The Devil’s name is not Satan. Those are titles or roles, not personal names. Various entities can and do take on those roles, but those are not their names. Similarly, a church can have a pastor, priest or minister, but those are not personal names.
The fallen angel Lucifer fills those roles as the Devil (accuser, witness for the prosecution) and Satan (adversary, prosecuting attorney).
Lucifer, the shining one who fell and took a third of Heaven, is known as the Greek god Apollo, the Mesopotamian god Marduk and the Philistine god Baal.
Lucifer is associated with the planet Mars. Various Bible translations have called him the morning star, which is Venus, but the original actually calls him the day star, and that is Mars.
The fallen angel Lucifer fills those roles as the Devil (accuser, witness for the prosecution) and Satan (adversary, prosecuting attorney).
Lucifer, the shining one who fell and took a third of Heaven, is known as the Greek god Apollo, the Mesopotamian god Marduk and the Philistine god Baal.
Lucifer is associated with the planet Mars. Various Bible translations have called him the morning star, which is Venus, but the original actually calls him the day star, and that is Mars.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
New photos of Phobos, a moon of Mars
During a flyby on March 7, the Mars Express spacecraft took new photos of Phobos, a potato-shaped moon that measures about 2o miles on its long axis.
Phobos is puzzling. According to data from fly-by spacecraft, its composition is similar to a type of asteroid called carbonaceous chondrite, but if it is a captured asteroid, then it is difficult to explain how it came into an equatorial orbit with only one side of the moon facing Mars at all times.
The Russian Federal Space Agency plans to put a lander on Phobos in 2011 to scoop up some soil and send it back to Earth for analysis.
New Photos Show Potential Landing Sites on Mars Moon
By SPACE.com Staff
In a late-night radio interview on Coast to Coast AM with George Noory, researcher Richard Hoagland discussed the possibility that Phobos is an artificial satellite that was bombarded with dust in the ancient past, leading to its present appearance.
Richard Hoagland
Coast to Coast
~~~
Phobos is puzzling. According to data from fly-by spacecraft, its composition is similar to a type of asteroid called carbonaceous chondrite, but if it is a captured asteroid, then it is difficult to explain how it came into an equatorial orbit with only one side of the moon facing Mars at all times.
The Russian Federal Space Agency plans to put a lander on Phobos in 2011 to scoop up some soil and send it back to Earth for analysis.
New Photos Show Potential Landing Sites on Mars Moon
By SPACE.com Staff
In a late-night radio interview on Coast to Coast AM with George Noory, researcher Richard Hoagland discussed the possibility that Phobos is an artificial satellite that was bombarded with dust in the ancient past, leading to its present appearance.
Richard Hoagland
Coast to Coast
~~~
Monday, February 15, 2010
The Nephilim -- book excerpt
from 2010 and Beyond: Ancient Secrets and Mysteries
Fallen Angels Marrying Human Women
“That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.” – Genesis 6:4
Many evangelists will tell you that the sons of God were the line of Seth, the godly descendants of Adam, and that the daughters of men were from the line of Cain, who murdered his brother Abel. That position is untenable, since every other instance of the phrase “sons of God” in the Bible refers to angels. For example, Job 1:6 says, “Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came among them.” In addition, the phrase “daughters of men” actually says “daughters of Adam”, which includes all of the descendants of Adam, including the lines of both Seth and Cain. Besides, if the line of Seth were so godly, then why did God destroy most of them – all but Noah and his family – in the Flood?
The Bible does tell us that angels do not marry (Matthew 22:30), but it does not tell us that fallen angels do not violate this law. The fallen angels who joined Lucifer in rebellion against God certainly would not hesitate to violate God’s law. More specifically, the angels in Heaven do not marry (Jude 6:7), and the fallen angels are not in Heaven. God has bound most of them in chains in the depths of Hell, in Tartarus (2 Peter 2:4).
“There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same which became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.” – Genesis 6:4
Indeed there were giants in the world in those days, but the verse in Genesis does not say giants – it says Nephilim, which means the fallen ones, referring to the angels who fell from Heaven. The Greek translation of that word was Gigantes, which means earth-born, and the King James scholars transliterated it as giants. The term earth-born almost certainly refers to the Titans of Greek myth, who emerged from inside the Earth, where they had been imprisoned by their father Ouranos (Heaven). Also, the word translated as renown actually means bad reputation. The King James translators use the word mighty, with roots referring to war, to translate a word that means warrior. So they were warriors of bad reputation.
Not all of those offspring of the angels were giants, but some of them were giants, and God did consider all of them evil. The cross-breeding of angels with humans was an abomination in the sight of God. When God later commanded the Israelites to kill all the members of certain tribes in Palestine, it was due to their genetic impurity – they were part fallen angel. Noah was “perfect in his generations” (Genesis 6:9) because he was completely human and did not have any nonhuman ancestors.
Gilgamesh, the hero of the Epic of Gilgamesh, was two-thirds divine. (See: Hamlet’s Mill, Chapter 23).
Tradition and myth back up the position that fallen angels mated with human women, creating the heroes such as Herakles (Latin Hercules) in Greek myth, the half-human half-god giant who performed twelve great feats of strength. Herakles was not a nice person, either. The gods ordered him to perform his twelve labors as penance for having murdered his wife. Many of the “mighty men” were giants, and all were evil in the sight of God. The best-known Biblical instance of one of the giants is Goliath, the Philistine giant that David killed by tossing a stone with his sling and hitting Goliath on the forehead. This tale confirms the statement in Genesis 6 that the sons of God continued mating with the daughters of Adam after the Flood, thus creating more giants. The Bible tells us that David picked up five stones before this encounter, and that does not call into question David’s faith that God would guide the stone to kill the giant. The fact is that Goliath had four brothers, and they were also giants. Interestingly, five is the number of God’s grace; according to Exodus, the Israelites marched out of Egypt in groups of five and not one among them was ill or lame.
The Greek myths portray many instances of gods mating with human women. For example, they tell us that Zeus took the form of a swan and raped Leta. She gave birth to an egg, and twin girls eventually hatched from that egg. One of those twin girls grew up to be the woman that we know as Helen of Troy.
~~~
Available at Amazon and other online retailers.
~~~
Fallen Angels Marrying Human Women
“That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.” – Genesis 6:4
Many evangelists will tell you that the sons of God were the line of Seth, the godly descendants of Adam, and that the daughters of men were from the line of Cain, who murdered his brother Abel. That position is untenable, since every other instance of the phrase “sons of God” in the Bible refers to angels. For example, Job 1:6 says, “Now there was a day when the sons of God came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan came among them.” In addition, the phrase “daughters of men” actually says “daughters of Adam”, which includes all of the descendants of Adam, including the lines of both Seth and Cain. Besides, if the line of Seth were so godly, then why did God destroy most of them – all but Noah and his family – in the Flood?
The Bible does tell us that angels do not marry (Matthew 22:30), but it does not tell us that fallen angels do not violate this law. The fallen angels who joined Lucifer in rebellion against God certainly would not hesitate to violate God’s law. More specifically, the angels in Heaven do not marry (Jude 6:7), and the fallen angels are not in Heaven. God has bound most of them in chains in the depths of Hell, in Tartarus (2 Peter 2:4).
“There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same which became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.” – Genesis 6:4
Indeed there were giants in the world in those days, but the verse in Genesis does not say giants – it says Nephilim, which means the fallen ones, referring to the angels who fell from Heaven. The Greek translation of that word was Gigantes, which means earth-born, and the King James scholars transliterated it as giants. The term earth-born almost certainly refers to the Titans of Greek myth, who emerged from inside the Earth, where they had been imprisoned by their father Ouranos (Heaven). Also, the word translated as renown actually means bad reputation. The King James translators use the word mighty, with roots referring to war, to translate a word that means warrior. So they were warriors of bad reputation.
Not all of those offspring of the angels were giants, but some of them were giants, and God did consider all of them evil. The cross-breeding of angels with humans was an abomination in the sight of God. When God later commanded the Israelites to kill all the members of certain tribes in Palestine, it was due to their genetic impurity – they were part fallen angel. Noah was “perfect in his generations” (Genesis 6:9) because he was completely human and did not have any nonhuman ancestors.
Gilgamesh, the hero of the Epic of Gilgamesh, was two-thirds divine. (See: Hamlet’s Mill, Chapter 23).
Tradition and myth back up the position that fallen angels mated with human women, creating the heroes such as Herakles (Latin Hercules) in Greek myth, the half-human half-god giant who performed twelve great feats of strength. Herakles was not a nice person, either. The gods ordered him to perform his twelve labors as penance for having murdered his wife. Many of the “mighty men” were giants, and all were evil in the sight of God. The best-known Biblical instance of one of the giants is Goliath, the Philistine giant that David killed by tossing a stone with his sling and hitting Goliath on the forehead. This tale confirms the statement in Genesis 6 that the sons of God continued mating with the daughters of Adam after the Flood, thus creating more giants. The Bible tells us that David picked up five stones before this encounter, and that does not call into question David’s faith that God would guide the stone to kill the giant. The fact is that Goliath had four brothers, and they were also giants. Interestingly, five is the number of God’s grace; according to Exodus, the Israelites marched out of Egypt in groups of five and not one among them was ill or lame.
The Greek myths portray many instances of gods mating with human women. For example, they tell us that Zeus took the form of a swan and raped Leta. She gave birth to an egg, and twin girls eventually hatched from that egg. One of those twin girls grew up to be the woman that we know as Helen of Troy.
~~~
Available at Amazon and other online retailers.
~~~
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Another Theory About the Norway Spiral
A mysterious spiral appeared in the skies over Norway in December 2009, raising all sorts of speculation. Eventually, Russia declared that it was a failed rocket test, but most observers reject that explanation.
The images appear more like computer graphics than a real atmospheric phenomenon, but that spiral was seen by thousands of people.
Weekly World News posted some of the videos
http://weeklyworldnews.com/alien-alert/14265/norway-spiral/
Researcher and journalist Richard C. Hoagland has presented a theory involved the nearby EISCAT Ramfjordmoen facility, the Norwegian version of Alaska's HAARP.
http://www.enterprisemission.com/Norway-Message.htm
These facilities are capable of beaming microwave energy into the atmosphere, leading to speculation that these facilities have caused unusual weather, including Hurricane Katrina, and perhaps even earthquakes, when the same microwave energy is beamed into the ground.
~~~
The images appear more like computer graphics than a real atmospheric phenomenon, but that spiral was seen by thousands of people.
Weekly World News posted some of the videos
http://weeklyworldnews.com/alien-alert/14265/norway-spiral/
Researcher and journalist Richard C. Hoagland has presented a theory involved the nearby EISCAT Ramfjordmoen facility, the Norwegian version of Alaska's HAARP.
http://www.enterprisemission.com/Norway-Message.htm
These facilities are capable of beaming microwave energy into the atmosphere, leading to speculation that these facilities have caused unusual weather, including Hurricane Katrina, and perhaps even earthquakes, when the same microwave energy is beamed into the ground.
~~~
Monday, January 11, 2010
Big Freeze
Another reason to doubt the global warming hype:
29. November 2009 10:00
Big freeze plunged Europe into ice age in months
European Science Foundation
~~~
29. November 2009 10:00
Big freeze plunged Europe into ice age in months
In the film, ‘The Day After Tomorrow’ the world enters the icy grip of a new glacial period within the space of just a few weeks. Now new research shows that this scenario may not be so far from the truth after all.
William Patterson, from the University of Saskatchewan in Canada, and his colleagues have shown that switching off the North Atlantic circulation can force the Northern hemisphere into a mini ‘ice age’ in a matter of months. Previous work has indicated that this process would take tens of years.
Around 12,800 years ago the northern hemisphere was hit by a mini ice-age, known by scientists as the Younger Dryas, and nicknamed the ‘Big Freeze’, which lasted around 1300 years. Geological evidence shows that the Big Freeze was brought about by a sudden influx of freshwater, when the glacial Lake Agassiz in North America burst its banks and poured into the North Atlantic and Arctic Oceans. This vast pulse, a greater volume than all of North America’s Great Lakes combined, diluted the North Atlantic conveyor belt and brought it to a halt.
European Science Foundation
~~~
Sunday, January 10, 2010
2012 and Beyond
Coming soon, my first nonfiction book (not counting my memoir), 2012 and Beyond: Ancient Secrets and Mysteries.
Excerpt from the Introduction:
“Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?” – Job 11:7
In a dark dungeon, Dr. Faustus utters magical words in some ancient tongue, which he reads from an ancient manuscript. Having turned away from his faith and given up his position as a Christian priest, he has put away the Bible and turned the pages of magical tomes. The words have their effect, and the Devil – Mephistopheles – appears, offering Faust a deal that he cannot refuse. For twenty years he enjoys all sorts of luxuries and debaucheries, while demons serve his every whim. Then he must pay the price upon which he agreed when he signed the contract with the Devil in his own blood. Fearing this end, Faust hides in his basement, but the demons find him there and tear his body to shreds, and then they drag his soul down to Hell. That is Christopher Marlowe’s version of the Faust story. Goethe, finding that ending unsatisfying, gets Faust off the hook on a technicality.
In ancient Egypt, the young Greek wise man Solon lay in the stone coffin in the King’s Chamber inside the Great Pyramid and saw visions of the Great Flood. His grandson Plato would write down what Solon told him about Atlantis in two of his dialogs, the Timaeus and the Critias. On a moonless night in the 1300s, a group of men sat in a circle around a small camp fire in the midst of a forest in southern France. One of the men opened a black cloth sack to reveal the severed head of their martyred leader. Their religious order of knights was on the run, persecuted by their own church and their own king. On a July afternoon in 1858, a young woman dug in the dirt near a cave in Lourdes, France, seeking the water of the spring which the apparition of a lady had ordered her to drink – the Catholic Church finally declared Bernadette a saint in 1933.
In France in the early 1500s, a physician name Michele de Notre Dame (Nostradamus) peered into a bowl of water and saw visions of the future. He predicted that the world would end in the year 3797. Sorry, but he did not foresee anything special for the year 2012. However, many ancient cultures did predict the end of the world for 2012.
A word of warning before you delve into the depths of ancient mysteries: Never attribute great wisdom to people who worshiped cows and other creatures, rather than the Creator. Never open doors that might let in something that could harm you. Just say no to the Ouija board, whose name means “Yes yes”; if you try it, you will open the door to some serious mischief that can cause you great harm. Do not attempt to summon demons to serve your ends; you will end up serving theirs. Do not aspire to great power, as it will take away your personal power over your own life.
~~~
Excerpt from the Introduction:
“Canst thou by searching find out God? Canst thou find out the Almighty unto perfection?” – Job 11:7
In a dark dungeon, Dr. Faustus utters magical words in some ancient tongue, which he reads from an ancient manuscript. Having turned away from his faith and given up his position as a Christian priest, he has put away the Bible and turned the pages of magical tomes. The words have their effect, and the Devil – Mephistopheles – appears, offering Faust a deal that he cannot refuse. For twenty years he enjoys all sorts of luxuries and debaucheries, while demons serve his every whim. Then he must pay the price upon which he agreed when he signed the contract with the Devil in his own blood. Fearing this end, Faust hides in his basement, but the demons find him there and tear his body to shreds, and then they drag his soul down to Hell. That is Christopher Marlowe’s version of the Faust story. Goethe, finding that ending unsatisfying, gets Faust off the hook on a technicality.
In ancient Egypt, the young Greek wise man Solon lay in the stone coffin in the King’s Chamber inside the Great Pyramid and saw visions of the Great Flood. His grandson Plato would write down what Solon told him about Atlantis in two of his dialogs, the Timaeus and the Critias. On a moonless night in the 1300s, a group of men sat in a circle around a small camp fire in the midst of a forest in southern France. One of the men opened a black cloth sack to reveal the severed head of their martyred leader. Their religious order of knights was on the run, persecuted by their own church and their own king. On a July afternoon in 1858, a young woman dug in the dirt near a cave in Lourdes, France, seeking the water of the spring which the apparition of a lady had ordered her to drink – the Catholic Church finally declared Bernadette a saint in 1933.
In France in the early 1500s, a physician name Michele de Notre Dame (Nostradamus) peered into a bowl of water and saw visions of the future. He predicted that the world would end in the year 3797. Sorry, but he did not foresee anything special for the year 2012. However, many ancient cultures did predict the end of the world for 2012.
A word of warning before you delve into the depths of ancient mysteries: Never attribute great wisdom to people who worshiped cows and other creatures, rather than the Creator. Never open doors that might let in something that could harm you. Just say no to the Ouija board, whose name means “Yes yes”; if you try it, you will open the door to some serious mischief that can cause you great harm. Do not attempt to summon demons to serve your ends; you will end up serving theirs. Do not aspire to great power, as it will take away your personal power over your own life.
~~~
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Hole found on the Moon
No, they are not saying that the Moon is hollow -- not yet, at least.
But it does have a very big hole that might lead to underground tunnels.
Found: first 'skylight' on the moon
New Scientist, Space
~~~
But it does have a very big hole that might lead to underground tunnels.
Finding a hole in a rille could suggest that an intact tube lies beneath. So a group led by Junichi Haruyama of the Japanese Aerospace Exploration Agency searched for these "skylights" in images taken by Japan's Kaguya spacecraft, which orbited the moon for almost two years before ending its mission in June.
Deep cave
The team found the first candidate skylight in a volcanic area on the moon's near side called Marius Hills. "This is the first time that anybody's actually identified a skylight in a possible lava tube" on the moon, van der Bogert, who helped analyse the feature, told New Scientist.
The hole measures 65 metres across, and based on images taken at a variety of sun angles, the the hole is thought to extend down at least 80 metres. It sits in the middle of a rille, suggesting the hole leads into a lava tube as wide as 370 metres across.
Found: first 'skylight' on the moon
New Scientist, Space
~~~
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