Wednesday, February 16, 2011

The Events of 12/3 - 12/14 - Chapter 12 "Time Fissures"

"The last step depends on the first: yet not a blue squirrel in sight." Lance Glover, artist & writer
December 3, 2010

William  - Just inside the cave entrance it was almost dark as night and I tried my headlamp but the batteries only provided the bulb with a tiny glow before winking out. I reached into my pocket and pulled my Kali Safety matches out and struck one. In the match light I noticed a small blue had followed Mark and I.  He seemed to be fidgeting with something stuck to it's tail. I reached down and pulled a tiny book from the fur. I suddenly realized this must have been the same little fellow that had tried to imitate Blue's tail mopping and had dipped into Mark upon his "resurrection" His little attempt to help his clan's water crisis had caused one of our own as Mark's features (and personality) had caused Susan to believe we had uncorked Gumby. 

"Darn", I exclaim as the match burns my fingers and dies. I quickly light another and peer at the tiny volume which appears to be Mark's account of our climb. 
I hand it to Mark and can see as soon as he touches the book his greenish pallor seems improved.

"How did you write so much in the short time you've been here?",  I ask.  

Mark stares at me with an renewed intensity and begins to read:
"The climb is finished. Here is the ending.  
Daumal could not complete Mount Analogue but we did. We planted the Daumal flag at the peak. We had returned from the 25th century to finalize his endeavor.

As Susan pressed the PLAY button on her audio vibration unit, the rest of us lined up in our positions to form the Fibocinci grid in "The Shape of the Waffle", completing the prophecy. The unit's only surviving song began to play. It was of course, "Born in Chicago" by the Paul Butterfield Blues Band. With the rest of the 21st century world clearly visible on the horizon, we began to dance."

My mouth drops in amazement and I forget my assignment of finding a proper source of water to aid the blues.
  "Mark, do you believe time runs in two directions here?" 

I'd always thought that my little choices amid the chaos of the world had some effect, yet Mark was indicating that perhaps that was not true on this mountain. 

I turned back to the cave entrance looking for Ria as she seemed to have answers to the esoterica that had befuddled some of my previous climbs.
I spotted her at the mouth of the cave softly rapping the Tibetan Singing Bowl atop her head.

Ria - Basically I had been just tagging along. The others hyperactively in pursuit of making sense of this and that, phenomena that seemed surreal, saving squirrels, running after time, flying through the thin air.  I strolled after Bill towards a cave, feeling disconnected. I was fiddling with the bowl, not knowing where to keep it now, since Blue had taken my rucksack. These MA energies kept curving and whirling around us, I could almost physically feel them pulling. I thought of my physics classes and decided to use the bowl as antenna of sorts and put it on my head, optimistically thinking I or the others then might process whatever phenomenon occurred. I saw Bill turning towards me as I stood in the cave's mouth and I shouted at him and Mark, "Time is the substance I am made of."

Mark - Dumbfounded, I looked at Bill and Ria. I suspected for the first time since our journey began that they did not see things as I did. Sure, I was paranoid by nature. My god, and those mushrooms made everyone crazy. And I was well aware of our different points of view on this and that. But now I was feeling a fundamental schism between myself and my friends-- fissure in our very realities. And speaking of fissures, that WAS the nature of the reality I was experiencing at that very moment.

Mark Bloch

An awareness of being surrounded by fissures, of vertical slices in the time-space continuum. I suddenly was confronted with a memory of the work of Lucio Fontana, the Argentinian artist who created canvases covered with thin slits. As I contemplated the fact that Bill might not understand that such slits existed all around us, now and always, creating the danger of any one of us being unexpectedly pushed into other time-space grids against our will, I assumed that based on what she had just said, that Ria must at least have an inkling of it. But now I was questioning even that.

The image of Fontana's work came to mind because I never had the idea before that I could just exit AT WILL through one of those slits... BY CHOICE. What a concept! Should I try it? Lord knows it was becoming very uncomfortable to be me there inside that cave. I could just run away! Not with my feet but by disappearing into one of the fissures! I leaned a little closer into Bill and Ria and wondered, could they hear my thoughts? If they could would they think me out of my mind?

Mara   - As we moved further into the cave, I slowly unspooled more suppositions for my friends. "It sounds illogical but there is a definite sense of both deja vu and jamais vu here. Seeing something familiar and feeling it is strange may be what Mark is experiencing. It's an effect of the 4th Time Wave Principle.

William  - Although still baffled by Mark's suggestions concerning Time and the curious rents and fissures in the caves wall, I was willing to set it aside and continue our task Ria, her eyes still obscured by the Singing Bowl removes a small pouch from her pocket. As she opens the pouch several of the small blues in the cave begin to sing.

Mara - Hokey smokes, I thought I'd never hear the strains of "High on the Bowling" again. This is too much, like it's tied up with a bow.

December 5

William - As the notes from the little blue's shanty and Ria's bowl join to form an harmonic convergence I see a possibility. Plucking several of the notes from the air, I begin to tuck them into the fissures. I must admit there is a bit of trial and error as I find the proper fit for each note. Little by little I make progress in the small alcove we find ourselves in. The notes ripple slightly as if there is air passing over them. I start to see a slight condensation form in the note filled fissures; then they begin to drip from their stems. Soon there is a tiny stream of water trickling from each.  

I turn to the others; "It's like tapping maple trees for sap!"

{*The image makes me briefly wonder what happened to the waffle iron I put in one of the rucksacks...just in case.*}

The blues seems excited as they rushed over and began to lap the water. A small puddle formed and I see one push his friend in and then splash in behind him. They seem quite happy with this development.

The Squirrels and Mara with Water - Lee Goldberg

"Mara, we may have a source!"

Mara - Honorary Big Blue Bill was carried around the cavern by the blues it looked like he was floating a foot off the floor.  There was such frivolity that they slipped and the whole heap ended up in the growing stream.

"Let's leave them our empty cans," which Mara fished out of her rucksack. "And....",  pulling out the silver squirrel from that first day she placed it on a natural shelf and with a sharpie wrote "Silver Springs" below.

 ‎"This is better than hauling it over the landslide, but a pulley system with the cans would really set them up right!" Together we all contributed some equipment for the mechanical water brigade.

Mara and Blue rig the water system - William Evertson

Susan - I stood motionless at what was transpiring before my dilated green eyes that were adjusting to the darkness of the cave.  
I was in awe. Tears dripped down my face as I witnessed the blues being overcome with the emotion of happiness as they celebrated. The blue hair on their tales became deeper in colours, fluffier, bushier and spreading out to twice the normal size. They began to fan each other in a sequence from smallest to tallest. The air was swirling around briskly with the temperature dropping. They surrounded Big Blue and with their “derrieres” to him, rapidly waving all tales up and down in unison at Blue as if applauding and honoring him! The gigantic eye balls of all the squirrels were shimmering brilliantly and it appeared to me their mouths were smiling.

I could not move. I started to sway to the music. Yes, I started to hear singing. Something about bowling which made no sense to me and for a second from the corner of my eye thought I viewed swishing tails pounding on silver cylinders. I was getting lost in another trance and in those few minutes I started to think about the climb. One crisis solved and yet we are not closer to achieving our goals. I felt some water splash on my face. “Susan!  Snap out of it ishkabibbl again... ishkabibble”, was the last thing I heard before everything vanished.

The Gloves - Mara Thompson

Mara - As the fanning feté began to reduce in volume and increase in temperature Mara pulled out the gloves.

“Here,” I handed them over, “the linings of the gloves have a map showing the huts and other locations, maybe that will help though the trail is not indicated.”

At that there were uncomfortable sorts of sounds coming from Susan.  “She’s slipping away again,” Mara said.  “This time she’d better take us with her,” as she grabbed her hand while the others flicked water in her direction and grabbed a hold of what ever was dangling from her (and there was a lot).  Mara reached and caught Mark by the pocket, which seemed to annoy him but they didn’t want to lose track of him again.

The Linings - Mara Thompson

December 6

William - As we circled Susan I was convinced we were about to be whisked through another loophole or at least a potential. Instead as we all grasped handfuls of hair our visions became tuned as we started to see the arrival of our second group, The Sisters. Their departure had been delayed due to the performance schedule of Jane and Cathy and we'd been anticipating their arrival for two months. The delay weighed heavily as their skills would help insure the success of the ascent. Angela and her sister were similarly indisposed for the October departure and were due to arrive with Cathy and Jane.

Now, as a group, clinging to Susan's hair we were witnessing the final performance of Jane and Cathy. We could see they were perhaps the best at what they did; artist of the low flying trapeze. On an apparatus that in some ways resemble a playground swing set they were delighting audiences with their combination of acrobatic agility and philosophy. 
Certainly any King or Queen could summon a troupe of trained high fliers to provide an evenings amusement but Cathy and Jane provided thrills and wisdom for the common man and woman. 
I was mesmerized at the vision, although a bit apprehensive and puzzled at Susan's low moaning of the word ishkibble.

December 8

Seahorse Memory - Susan Shulman
William - Other scenes began to flood through our collective psychiatry. 

 Indeed the small blues cradled Susan as if on a couch.  

Brief scenes of the Susan's past intertwined with what I felt to be her future. A childhood memory of her sea horse aquarium intermingled with her days spent on a commune in Paris, then she flashed to her university studies in fluid dynamics. The imagery morphed and became a future memory of her inspired interpretive dance at the Mulka bonfire: still two weeks in the future.

  A brief image of Lee; her eyes wide with...what, apprehension... wonder? But where was she?  Lee was not with the group as we grasped the clouds of hair memories.

I thought briefly that each strand of hair was either memory or potential...what were the other experiencing?

The Cave Walls - Lee Goldberg
Lee - I went deeper into the cave - the walls seemed to gleam brighter, lighting my way... I thought I heard the others is the distance - but ahead or behind I couldn't tell
 the light now allowed me to see pictographs on the walls depicting all manner of things and carvings left from a time long ago. Who lived on this island? In this mountain?
  There are niches in the walls with artifacts of that lost world pushed into them.
some of the niches had been taken over by small squirrels perfect homes with the streams of blue liquid seeping from the walls, they hummed in total pleasure.  
I heard other sounds coming from all around me...soothing-haunting- luring me on.

"Oh what the others must think now-I'm off again-on my own".  This cave holds so many secrets I can't go back now.  I realize there is a shimmer to the air, that's's like a wave in front of me.
  The monkey flies thru the wave and disappears,  do I follow? Do I go back?
 What's on the other side of that wave?  I have to...

Mark - ...know. But it is difficult to tell what is real and what is an illusion. Hypnotized by the repetitive pounding of the silver cylinders, I could sense a pattern as they repeated 1,2,3,5,8,13,21... then 34,55,89,144 and back.

Meanwhile I felt beckoned by the comb kazoos I could hear faintly on the other side. Using my peripheral vision I tried to see through the slit but I could only make out a couple of monkey faces darting back and forth across the corner of my left eye. They had been there all along so I didn't give it much thought. They appeared weeks earlier as I hiked alone up the mountain and then back down. I thought they had been sent to keep me company.

Just then here in the cave more monkey heads appeared, this time out of the corner of my right eye and it forced me to look back toward the falling streams of blue liquid, which I noticed slowed as they reached the cave floor.  Both Mara and I were watching this this in amazement. Suddenly there in the whirl of the blues and the the unfolding of Susan's past I saw a sight that startled and amazed me and filled me with a confusing wonder: it was the visage of my friend and mentor Dr. Hunter Moon which I had not seen since I was a lad! I leaned forward and tried to filter out the kazoo sounds altogether and I could hear for a moment he was talking to the young Susan about Sammy Davis Junior of all people! Something HAD TO BE SCRAMBLED here, Sammy Davis Junior? Was this another Gumby situation? I stopped fighting the inevitable and felt myself abruptly whisked into another time-space slit which seems to have carried me and Susan, or some version of her, to a similar cave further up the mountain.

Mara - The mountain is climbed not in space... but in time! Who is waiting at Hut 8, getting ready to leave as we approach? How can we all travel and arrive, well, at the same time?

December 9

William - **Author's Note: Further restoration efforts on William's notebook IV has revealed a fragment passage dated 12/20 (year uncertain although perhaps just prior to Mulka I).

"........After Lee's discovery we all poured over the parchments and ...tablets with great enthusiasm. I was especially keen upon my reading into the origins of certain phrases in common use even today. While contemporary man may casually drop the phrase "for the time being" in the distant pass this had an entirely different context; that of an offertory, as in "for the Time Being". To me indicating a more physical manifestation..somehow more dimensional. The phrase "All AT Once" also seems to have had a more global connotation than our common use today. 

A mirror signal indicates the sister group is near and perhaps I will get a chance to discuss this with Dr. Ferrara soon....." ***

Susan - As I faded in the distance chanting “ISHKABIBBLE” there came a euphony of sound vibrating from below and bathing me with warmth like a symphony of love. ♥♫♪ ♫♫♪♥♫♪ ♫♫♪ I could not bare to open my eyes for fear the sound illuminating and permeating my body and soul would disappear. I took a silent but long breath and gingerly opened one eye to peak. I was floating on a cushion of thick blue fur listening to what seemed like endless reciting and singing reverberating at the highest level of my awareness. The tones and music emanating from these chanting blues effected my inner being. The sweetness of the music stilling my mind as I became connected with the true meaning of the BLUES and MOUNT ANALOGUE. ♥♫♪ ♫♫♪♥♫♪ ♫♫♪
I continued to hear their MANTRA: kibbehs BLEAKISH keblahs kiblahs biblike KIBBLES kielbasi BABBLES SKIABLE bilbies ALIBIES bailies bialies kibbeh keblah kiblah kebabs kibbes kibbis kibble kebab kibbe kibbi BABBLE bikies bleaks haiks hakes HIKES kibeis kiblas lakhs SHAKE sheik BAKES balks beaks bibbs BIKES bikie bilks bleak habile haik hake hike khis kibei kibes kibla lakh alkies alsike babels babies bake balk bask beak bibb BIBLES bike bilk bisk blahs kabs HABS(MONTREAL HOCKEY TEAM) khi kibe sahib silkie abbes alike alkie babel BABES bash bible blabs blah blebs kab kails kales LAKES leaks likes sheila slake abbe abseil alibis babe bah bailie bialis bibs blab bleb ebbs elks hails hales HEALS heils ilka ilks kaes kail kale keas lake LEAK leash leks like sake SAKI selah SHALE sheal shiel sibb sika sike SILK ables ahis alibi ASK bails bales basil biali bib biles BLASÉ EBB elhi elk haes HAIL HALE HEAL heil hies hila hili ilk kae kas kea kis lash lek sable shea ska SKI able ahi ahs albs ash bail bals BASE bels bias bile bise blae hae has hes hie his ibisisba kaki labs liaise libs sabe sha she slab abs AH aisle alb bal bas bel bes bis EH HA he hilab lib sab sh sib ab ails ales ba be bi ilea ilia isle lase leas leis lies SAIL sale SEAL sial ail ais ALE (MONTREAL FOOTBALL TEAM) els las lea lei les lie lis sae sal SEA sei sel ae ai al as el es is la li si…
It was only then I realized in my meditation that they were giving us the clues…all from the word ISHKABIBBLE! I HAVE TO LOCATE EVERYONE NOW! THEY NEED TO KNOW!

William - Susan's ISHKABIBBLE pulsed like a strobe. 
Ria quietly removed her Tibetan bowl and placed it gently on Susan's head.

Lee - Walking into the time wave reminded me of the 'fun house' of my youth, that was all illusion, how much of this is just an illusion?

Are we all still on the beach sitting around the fire stoned on those damned mushrooms or is there really something more?  Is this island a series of vortex's leading to other times or travel in space? There are so many possibilities, are we really here?  Oor or or or or or or 
and why am I not with the group, where are they, are they in a collective dream..and where am I now-------------?

Mark - ‎"Susan, I'm lost," I said but I knew she was sleeping. Well, not sleeping but not herself. Literally.

I leaned forward and looked deep into her eyes to see if I could tell which Susan I was talking to. I looked around me at the cave we were in and it was quite like the one we had just been in but the most noticeable difference was the quiet. I knew we were further up the mountain because I could tell the air was thinner and the temperature was colder.

Susan began to giggle and little smoke rings of frosty hair came out of her mouth and nose as she exhaled the little laughs. But then she began to speak: "I know you heard the thing about Sammy and the Anthony Newley song." Well, I had heard her talking about Sammy Davis Jr. but Anthony Newley? "Anthony Newley?" I said, "he was some guy my mother liked when I was a kid." "Well, Hunter was talking to me about him and then he suggested we come here for a moment."

Things were getting weird. "Here? As in this cave here? And Hunter as in Moody Duck?" "Yes!" she explained with a look of recognition but then without batting an eye she began to explain as if I knew what the hell she was talking about, "He wanted you to know about the song. The lyrics to Born In Chicago by the Butterfield Blues Band explains everything. That and the glass eye. It takes us back to his birth which would have been in 1941 and that was the precise moment that Daumal was working on Analogue and completing his trip to the the 25th Century. So when he found you and you had come from there, he knew you were the one he had been looking for! Now the other--"

I interrupted her psycho-rap and half paused waiting for comatose chants of Ishkabibble to start coming out of her again. When none did I interrupted with "There? Meaning the 25th Century? I am not from the 25th Century!" But she went right back into her rant: " The other thing you have to consider is the Anthony Newley play 'Stop the World I Want to Get Off' which was quite popular in Canada around then, 1961 or '62. You should have seen it!" And then with a wave of her hand little slits began to appear in the cave walls and blue liquid was pouring out of them, first one then another, just like they had been in the other cave but this time Susan began moving about the cave waving her hands and as she did the blue streams floated away from the cave walls and into the center of the room where they aligned into a beautiful turquoise blue waterfall.

"How did you know Dr. Moon?", I asked her. What was that bit in the other cave about your..." When suddenly she waved her hands again and she had a little black moustache and a funny hat and onto the waterfall she projected out of her right hand an image that began to move! It was Sammy Davis Junior and she looked at my defiantly and said "Dig this, Gumby!" and with that I began to watch:

December 10

Lavender Field - Lee Goldberg
Lavender Portal - Lee Goldberg
Lee - "Well, Toto, we're not in the cave anymore."  The monkey perched on my shoulder giggled and flew around my head a couple times before landing back on my shoulder.  I looked around at the fields of lavender surrounding us.  The odor was almost overwhelming, but pleasant.  Here was a breeze from the ocean so the hot sun was not uncomfortable.  At the edge of the field I could see the beginning of the forest that would lead to the mountain. It seemed a very long way to go with no trail.  OK, I can see the ocean- I can see the mountain- I think I'm still on the same island..I don't know what year or even century I'm in.  The group was no where to be seen. but then, I had no idea if they even existed here-now---where ever now and here is, time?   Time to press on and see what's ahead.  I thought I heard music of some kind in the distance.  Toto giggled again..."doop doodie uup doodie oodio doodie do de o" Toto chattered away....

December 12

William - After a slight adjustment of Susan's head Ria began plucking notes from the air and began a vigorous thumping of bowl. 
Ria called over the banging, "A little help here!!!!...just use the quarter notes for now; we'll see how that goes."

Soon Mara and I joined in; increasing our tempo in an attempt to bring Susan around. A few of the small blues were able to hoist a couple of the ⅛ notes and joined in.

Squirrel Head Thumping - William Evertson

December 13

Mark - Back in the cave Susan waved her hand and the holographic ethereal sculpture thingy kind of faded away.

"What was that?" I asked. "It's like a TV from the 25th century," she continued. "Wasn't Sammy great? Daumal was writing his book about the poets of the 25th century and that's how he found us.  And Sammy.

Sammy - Mark Bloch
In 1941, Sammy's band the Mastin Gang opened for Tommy Dorsey at Detroit's Michigan Theater. There Sammy first met Frank Sinatra who was the Dorsey vocalist. That was happening just as the guy who was the protagonist in that song 'Born in Chicago' was Chicago!" I smiled but felt a little uneasy. "How did we get here and why was she going on this way?  I had never seen Susan act quite like this.

"That gave Daumal 13 years to arrange for the peradam to be planted in Sammy's skull in the guise of a glass eye! No one would think of looking for it there. Bloody hell brilliant!" I felt a headache coming on and I didn't know whether to ask her for clarification, run away or try to make it out through one of those time slits. I noticed the peripheral monkeys had not appeared in the last several minutes. It was the first time in weeks and I grew concerned.

December 14

Susan - BONG BONG BONG! Banging blaring all around me. Echoing inside my ears louder almost deafening. BONG? Isn’t that something you smoke with?

I was back home ’67 watching the performance of Jefferson Airplane “White Rabbit” dancing on stage with them, jerking on the platform wearing my “Je suis francais” black beret and fringed dress shimmying, jerking, swaying, laughing, tapping the floor, keeping time with my red boots, watching the fireworks exploding into vibrant colors morphing into translucent blue bubbles rising into the sky as a strobe light caressed us all, grooving, looking for the answer from Alice, as the sky cracked open with a clamor and rich blue nectar from the gods seeped down all around me pouring into my very existence!

“What a rush, what a feeling!” I giggled to myself. I was inspired, creating the universe until I noticed hundred of sparkling and flashing blue eyes staring at me and Bill and Ria converged into my focus…and Mark.

“Hey guys…what’s happening…..say something…close your mouths…don’t you recognize me?” I scanned my surroundings carefully and noticed blue liquid on the walls of the cave and the tiny blues smiling. I felt goop on my face and wiped some off with my hand. Hummm…smells like kool-aid. I was back once more, safe! 
For a moment there I thought Mark looked a little bit like Sammy Davis Jr.  Staring at me with a shimmering lens radiating towards me in spiral light. Wow that is impossible! I stood up a bit wobbly and removed something hard from my head. “ I am ready to continue the climb” Blurted out of my mouth. I desired time to contemplate what transpired and thought exercise was always a healthy remedy for solving problems! I smiled squeamishly while everyone was grinning and scrutinizing me, still not sure what happened but I was trying to be brave.

Mark - I looked at Susan. “ I am ready to continue the climb” blurted out of her mouth. “ I am ready to continue the climb” then blurted out of my mouth in response but it wasn't me that was speaking. Or it didn't feel like it anyway. I contemplated what had just transpired and thought we should get moving but I don't know why.

Lee - In the distance I could see a tall figure moving towards me at last - another person- I thought I was alone and lost somewhere in time but maybe not.  Toto chattered & giggled with excitement.

Mara - Maramara:  I was feeling beside myself.  The rock reappeared from behind the short film on Sammy.  Looking to my left, the Mara there was humming and smiling, drawing a symbol onto the face of the rock.  I felt sleepy and slow, as if half asleep and reluctant to move.  Wait, I can’t move.  Do I have anything to move?  Am I floating? What is the other Mara thinking? 

Mara:  "The images must be drawn just so, to reverberate with the vibration unit.  We are moving on!  What date and time is it at Hut 8?  Who has their unit handy?"

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