After Chandra finished his ritual duties, he knows that it is time to teleport across the ocean, back to Sherlock’s domicile … and so his two feet arrives upon the cobble stones of Baker Street, within a wink of an eye, and he drifts through a small crack in the window sill, like a wisp of fog, and he duly appears before Sherlock in a slightly visible ethereal body … and then, sitting opposite Sherlock’s confounded facial expression, Chandra said, “Namaste Lord Sherlock,
“Take a look at this drop of water,” continued Chandra, as he takes an eyedropper from his coat and squeezes a drop onto the table’s top. “You asked me about man’s eternal soul, well, there are hundreds of thousands of microscopic organisms swimming around in this drop of water, and yes, they too have souls, just as the huge body of an elephant has a similar soul of the same size. Whether the body be huge or infinitesimal, the soul within floods the entire body with consciousness.”
Sherlock reaches for something in a drawer, and Chandra says, “Put away your magnifying glass, Sherlock, it will not allow you to see these souls, nor can you see the bodies of these tiny creatures swimming around in their vast world of liquidity. I have teleported into the far future, and I have looked at specimens through their powerful microscopes, and still the soul is invisible to our eyes, because the soul is one ten-thousandth the tip of a hair, and thus invisible to our eyes.”
“Sometimes the path can be a little bumpy in the beginning,” whispered Chandra into Sherlock’s ear.
“We can converse person to person, no need for whispers,” said Sherlock.
After a long pause, Chandra continued, “the path most often requires one to discard baggage that prevents the seeker from flying upward into the heavenly realms …”
“And this means that I must discard something … what?” implored Sherlock.
“Let me narrate a story which illustrates this situation of shedding things that hinder,” offered Chandra, and he told a story thus;
“Once upon a time, on the peripheral edge of the Bermuda Triangle, there rested an exotic bird paradise on a celestial island in the sea.
“Bermuda Triangle?” wondered Sherlock…
“Yes, this triangle was known by men to be a cursed area of the sea, off the coast of Bermuda, and was always a great mystery to man, as many boats and aeroplanes have disappeared after entering it’s domain. The truth is, this area is a conduit, it is like a wormhole, or a portal that teleports whoever enters, and transports them into other dimensions, other lands, other planets, into different eras, into different centuries.
“That island on the edge of this Bermuda wormhole, was populated by exotic birds who happily lived in peace for centuries, because it was protected by the curse of that triangle, and humans feared the reputation of “they who enters nare ever return.” Thus that abode of the exotic birds flourished, until one day a wooden ship appeared like a bad dream, with it’s black flag of skull-and-cross-bones flapping in the wind. The birds turned their colorful necks to observe this ship, full of black-bearded pirates, who then proceeded to do what man does best…”
And Chandra paused a few moments, as Sherlock’s eye-brows arched, as if to say, “what, pray tell, what is it, that man does best?”
“The very thing that man, the two legged animal, does best … is to kill every living creature that lay within his wicked eyesight…”
“What you say is true, oh sage, please tell me why this is so?” pleaded Sherlock.
“Why does man delight in killing? This is because he is not in harmony with the creative golden spiral of the universe. He cannot create anything wondrous with his two clumsy hands … therefore he is envious of all that has beauty … envious of all that flows with the magical Fibonacci numbers, he is disharmonious with all that is seen in the golden ratio of the divine proportions of creation,
and all he can do, is to use his gift of free will, and wrongly choose to kill that which he fears, that which is beyond his comprehension. And thus he thinks his crude murder of life to be a sort of brutish creativity … like it is some kind of esoteric work of art … but it is only his fear and hatred of God’s immaculate creation.”
“And so,” continued Chandra, “the beautiful birds resided in caves etched within the side of a great mountain, and thus Blackbeard and his motley crew of pirates proceeded to fire their man’o-war cannon balls at the near mountain, which decimated the nests of unsuspecting birds, who raised a squalor of protest.”
The Condor’s only hope of survival from the pirate’s fiery assault was to fly up the sheer walls of the vertical face of the mountain, up to the lofty peaks without hesitation, … but alas, those condors who were attached to their nest and eggs, and tried to secure either nest or eggs held in their talons, they could not make the vertical ascent as quickly, being burdened down’, and they could not escape the cannon balls exploding all about the mountain face, and they fell down to death, while the Condors who flew without a second thought, leaving all behind, only they lived … so, the moral of the story, is that when the house is on fire, rhe survivor exits, to reach the goal, sometimes he must leave cherished attachments behind. That is what the moral of the story seems to be telling … but then again, things are not always what they seem.”
“There is nothing more deceptive than obvious facts,” said Sherlock, quoting one of his favorite axioms.
After assimilating all of this elaborate elucidation, Sherlock suggested, “Yes, it may seem that the birds that flew off were selfish, just trying to save themselves … and those who tried to save the nest, bore true nobility of heart, possessing a true moral compass.
“But, from another viewpoint, it may be said that in order for one to save himself from imminent danger, the situation may preclude the giving up of one’s attachments, to first save yourself, then go back and save others.”
To this, Chandra said, “Sometimes you can’t save others until you first save yourself … but that is not what really happened! The most common mistake people make, is to smugly think that our particular species of homo sapiens is more intelligent than animals who live in so-called primitive ages … and so it may come as a shock to our big brains, to discover that primitive animals possess the ability to proffer a challenge to one’s so-called modern intelligence.
“And so, keeping that in mind … this is what really happened:”
Some of the Condors pretended to be dead, laying there still, in the nests … while the other Condors flew upward into the clouds, until they became tiny specks in the sky before merging into the clouds. To which the Pirates laughed loudly, and hurled insults up into the skies, crying out;
“Run you cowards, fly away and save your own skin, and let your fellow mates and wives die in your nests, trying to protect your eggs, ha ha, big big birds with big big yellow bellies!!!”
The Pirates thought they were gone, until they heard a faint wailing noise, way up in the sky,
getting louder and louder … and before they could discern the reality of what was about to happen, a multitude of Condors suddenly materializing out of thin air, and they came swooping down with talons extended, claws eager to dig deep into the backs of the terrified Pirates, who ran here and there, some being picked up in the air with the Condor’s talons so sharp and strong, and firmly embedded into the bleeding backs of hapless pirates, and some were dropped into the ocean, as other terrified pirates ran all about, helter skelter, while the Condors ripped up their sails, tore down their masts, and overturned fires and kegs of oil, which set the ship ablaze.
As the wooden ship became a blazing inferno, more pirates came running out of the bowels of the ship, some jumping into the churning water and swimming ashore, where they lay exhausted on the beach for a long time. After gathering their wits, they looked around, and gazed up into the sky, and they thought that the Condors were gone, and they breathed deeply with great relief and gratitude … and then after a long while, a low and distant growl summoned their attention, and looking towards that alarming sound, they saw small specs on the distant shore, specs that grew larger and larger, until the true shapes began to manifest … and to their utter dismay, the pirates found themselves confronted with a pack of snarling and hungry wolves …
great grey wolves much larger than ever seen in Europe. Both pirates and wolves stood there staring at each other, the men frozen, afraid to run, and then the whole pack moved simultaneously, just a mere inch, which set off sheer panic throughout the bodies of the terrified pirates, and they all turned and ran for dear life.”
Catterwaul cuts the crap – http://wp.me/p4m90U-dY
Is it Pinkish? – http://wp.me/p4m90U-eg
Willy Wanko – http://wp.me/p4m90U-18
Tolkien in Hinterland – http://wp.me/p4m90U-aC
Mandates of the night sky – http://wp.me/p4m90U-1Z
Rory chap 5 father time – http://wp.me/p4m90U-9U
Coronation of Lord Smithy the Third – http://wp.me/p4m90U-bL
Telling the Gents What to Do – http://wp.me/p4m90U-cK
Winter of my Soul- http://wp.me/p4m90U-i2
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