Space Fiction

For my very own Anthrax Steele who likes looking into Outerspace.  Potplant art by KBK.

The first time it happened he thought it must have been a vivid dream. All he knew was that he was suddenly in front of a huge screen. And he wasn’t alone. Several men about his own age were sitting casually around him apparently engaged in good-natured banter. “Hey Mocho - you wearing socks?” The burly man beside him was addressing a fair-haired man sitting right across the long table where they were all seated.

“What are you, my mother? The less weight the better in this G force. What is it anyway 110 %?”

“Let’s just say you might just have to borrow you girlfriends wrinkle cream.”

“Shut up, you’re the one with the prune face, and at least I can pee in the hole, you’re still peeing straight upwards.”

“Blue steel!” grinned the blonde haired guy, and then “Hey cool it! He’s here.”

As large double doors began to open Anthrax looked around him too surprised to be alarmed. Everyone was dressed in the same dark uniform with some sort of crest on the front pocket, including himself. He stared fascinatedly down at his own neatly fastened jacket, quite foreign to his preferred tee-shirt and jeans and saw that the emblem was some sort of bird of prey surrounded by cloudy rings. He was just considering that the cloudy rings looked a lot like those on the screen when another uniformed man with sharp features entered and everyone around the table stood to their feet. Very slowly, Anthrax rose also.

“Be seated gentleman” said the new comer waving a hand in a downward gesture. “Roald did you manage to get those statistics I asked for?”

“Yes Sir” said a man who looked a little older than the others.

“So what are we witnessing out there?”

“Well Sir, seeing as we can see a species of plant life, we could start with that. Our initial observations show that all the trees on this planet draw their energy from the red sun. They have an elaborate root system that metabolises minerals from the adamant sand. As the plants grow they take in various gases from the atmosphere until they are mature and it is time to reproduce. Then commence three days of atomic activity where the trees foliage undergoes a deconstructive transformation. You can observe this process taking place from the window as we speak.”

Anthrax widened his eyes in astonishment. That was a window?

“If you observe the new leaves appearing just below the atomic cloud you see that this is also a catalyst for the regeneration of new leaves.”

“There you have it gentlemen” declared the eagle featured spokesman, “On every planet that supports life we see the same principle at work. Loss and renewal.”

“Loss and renewal" muttered Anthrax who was unaccountably seated again in front of his own TV. “What a weird dream!” Rising weakly to his feet he went upstairs and looked out at the palm trees in his back garden. A great leaf was almost peeling away from the trunk. The words ‘Loss and renewal’ swayed in the forefront of his mind, what on earth? He shook his head and went about his usual activities.

The incident would have been entirely forgotten had it not been for a second experience several months later. Anthrax was unloading some building materials from his Ute. The day was hot and he had removed his shirt. Right in the middle of swinging some heavy bricks from the tray to the ground the atmosphere around him seemed to shimmer and he found instead he was passing an oblong crate to a dark-haired man. Once again he was dressed in the neat dark uniform with the cloudy Eagle crest. The dark-haired man stacked the crate up on a square pile and shouted, “That’s the last of them. Everyone back to the shuttle.”

Anthrax watched as several men made their way to a hatch in the wall. He recognised his burly neighbour from his earlier ‘dream’. If it was a dream this time then it was an exceedingly vivid one. He just stood watching, taking in all the details he could. In a few minutes everyone had gone but the man called Roald and the sharp featured man who was still exuding an air of authority.

He watched them walk together to another screen. No, not a screen, it was another great window. Outside there were two islands of earth exploding in massive fingers of light.

The man who apparently was in a position of authority spoke at last.

“I’m not sure they’re ready to hear it Roald. They are good young men, all of them. It’s one thing to watch it unfold in nature and in the stars, it is quite another when it comes to being personally applied.”

“It’s my view Sir that watching it in nature and in the stars is all that is necessary.” said Roald. “Applying these things personally is a lesson that only seems able to be grasped at the necessary time, when other things are in place, as it were.”

“Expressed with your characteristic wisdom Roald.” sighed the man with the eagle features. “Still it certainly is a spectacular object lesson.”

The two men gazed out at the celestial display apparently completely unaware of Anthrax speechlessly observing them and the spectacle exploding outside the window.

Death and resurrection” murmured the sharp featured man almost reverently. “Who among us can welcome any sort of personal death even when we are sure it will herald new life.”

“It’s a hard concept alright Sir. But when we undertook this expedition, we were willing to face up to whatever we encountered.”

“Right again Roald. Loss and renewal, death and resurrection, it is a repeating pattern….”

And Anthrax was standing again in his driveway with an armful of bricks.

“I’ve gotta stop smoking that stuff” he said aloud, but it was a jest. Workplace drug testing had long ago wound up his infrequent party weekends. What was happening to him? Perhaps it was a delayed condition from the car accident he’d had the year before. But it all seemed so very real.

Over the next few months he told a few people of his experience, but they could all make very little of it. “That’s cool man” said his friend Roger, summing up the general response.

Sometimes just as he was falling asleep, Anthrax could vividly recall some of the scenes and faces from his hallucination, for that’s what he was calling it now. Somehow though, the words he had heard during his experience seemed to take on a real significance. Anthrax had a tropical garden constantly in a state of change. It was a daily occurrence to be greeted by a family of frogmouths or to wage battle in the mango tree with the fruit bats. Possums and lizards, frogs and snakes, Anthrax was always encountering them. He couldn’t help but acknowledge that they all, including each and every plant, were in a constant cycle of loss and renewal, death and resurrection, forms that were transforming, growing and renewing. But he hadn’t seen any reason to apply those things to himself.

Until it happened again.

He was seated at a control panel and on the screen was a landscape cracking open with chasms of blue light. Low on the horizon pink troposphere was bleeding into carmine. The stars glittered coldly above a stratosphere of gold. Anthrax had never imagined anything could be as beautiful as the jagged black and silver mountain cones alight with electrical energy. He could feel the sensation of filtered air in his lungs and the rather indefinite high-pitched sounds of a craft in flight.

“All secure here” came a voice and Anthrax became aware of another man seated further along the panel. He was studying his instruments and glancing down at his controls. The craft banked in a long sweeping curve.

The man sat back and turned to Anthrax with a wide smile. Anthrax realised at once that it was Roald, the older man from his other two ‘hallucinations.’

“It’s time to choose” stated the man looking right at him with eyes that seemed to mirror the light of the world on the screen.

“You don’t understand” blurted Anthrax “this is just a dream.”

“Well that’s entirely up to you. I will say though that I think you are a good candidate.”

“A candidate? What do you mean?”

“You have shown a great interest in the universe and in return the universe is offering you a chance to become more than you are.” The man, Roald lent forward and adjusted an instrument and sat back again looking satisfied. “There is a requirement however.”

“A requirement?” If this was a hallucination Anthrax decided he may as well get his money’s worth.

“The planet we are leaving is beautiful isn’t it.” murmured Roald softly.

“Yes, but you were talking about a requirement.”

Anthrax was grasping at his earlier statement.

“The requirement is a letting go.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

Roald looked at him with great kindness. “If you would like to join us on our expedition through the galaxies there will have to be a letting go. If your decision is to join us, there will be no going back.” He stretched forward and made another quick adjustment.

“You have interacted with your world observing the principles you have learned from us. Those principles are constant throughout the universe and yet there is another, a more personal one.

For one to become more, there has to be a letting go.

Make your decision and make it well. If you decide to come with us you will be very welcome.”

Before he had time to blink Anthrax was standing on his upstairs veranda gazing up at the stars.

His eyes were wide with possibilities. Should he, could he… let go?

Happy Birthday KBK

Good Friday

It is Good Friday in the morning, and a traditional time to reflect on the death of Jesus.

Once I could have explained the whole thing satisfactorily, historically, doctrinally and personally. How is it that I am entering this Easter feeling like a trembling novice?

When I used to know everything, I had never really wrestled with concepts of the atonement I had been taught. There it all was outlined in red all the way through the Bible.

I had never heard that the doctrine of paying the price to the Father was a revelation outmoding a previous concept of paying the price to the devil.

Because I could comprehend it, I just accepted it.
Viewing the Bible not just as the Word of God alone, but also an account of Mankind's interaction with the Word of God shines a light on the great leaps of progression in human thinking.

Before Abraham, people believed the gods required human sacrifice.

Grasping the concept that there was one God who would accept animal sacrifice was huge progression.

Patiently all through the years God continues to tell us He does not desire sacrifice

He has shown you, O man, what is good;
And what does the Lord require of you
But to do justly,
To love mercy,
And to walk humbly with your God

and Mankind keeps interacting with his own notions of what God requires, precedes them with 'God says' and the whole thing is written down as a history. The Bible.

Then God becomes one of us, to show us what God is really like and of course He doesn't meet our expectations. He doesn't wade in and take control.
Huh? That can't be God. He's supposed to be running the universe with indomitable cosmic power.

So we kill this non-violent God who can't possibly do anything else to show His love for us.

I am a trembling novice this year because there are moments where I see that it really is about Mankind, and I am trapped in notions of being an individual.

I am a trembling novice this year because I don't have the certitude of other years and that sometimes makes me feel anxious.

I am a trembling novice this year because God's voice can still be heard and I really want to recognise it and not be saying 'God says' to my own bright ideas.

I am a trembling novice this year because take away the 'almighty' and the 'individual' and you have to start a whole new way of relating.

Evolution

I came across the expression 'the bread of life' yesterday, and I was thinking that in the world I live in that analogy has only a surface meaning.

Bread was understood originally to be a symbol of the basic sustenance that maintained existence.

Image courtesy of all-free-download.com

When I was a kid we had big square uncut loaves of white bread. It was edible I guess but we never had the love affair and finesse with bread like the French or the Italians.

Even if you are a great lover of bread, today you can go to the supermarket and choose what you want from flat unleavened sheets of bread all the way to organic heavy wholemeal.

If you embark on varying ways of watching your weight or being healthy, bread gradually makes its way to the restricted classifications right down there not far from the Mars bars and potato chips.

All that is to recognise we can only give mental acknowledgement to the expression ‘the bread of life’. For us bread is there for the taking or leaving.

So what is it that sustains life these days? Electricity? Last year our power was cut off a couple of times before it got dark right through to the early hours of the morning. We had to borrow a generator just to keep my husband’s protective ripple mattress operating.

It is actually quite confronting to realise how personally dependent I am on electricity. Those evenings there was no television, no lights except candles, and worse than all of that – no way to charge the mobile!

It’s fascinating to witness the development of a society. The kids at school have more online relationships than they do face to face. I don’t have a Facebook page and yet there I am appearing everywhere when other people display me on theirs. This week I sang happy birthday to my granddaughter on Skype.

If we stand way back and become really still we can observe the evolution of consciousness.

Some might say this ever increasing way of relating is a backward step, but I doubt it. The true, the profound and the everlasting will always endure the present.

Some things will be lost but isn't everything always three steps forward and two back?

Sticky Situations

Two sticky situations can be vastly different from each other.

Imagine for example that you are a ladybug who has backed in to a spot of glue. Now your hind legs are stuck and will not budge even though you flap your wings frantically. If you cannot escape you will most certainly succumb.

On the other hand imagine you are a seabird engulfed by an oil spill. The oil interferes with the shingle like covering of your feathers exposing you to the elements. The more a bird tries to preen to remedy this, the more oil they ingest. The bird is in great peril.

To rescue the ladybug you might only need a toothpick. One small lift and she is free!

To rescue the seabird is extremely more complicated. The bird needs to be protected while it is fed, and then carefully have the oil removed. This takes specialised skill and time.

The problem is I am only a ladybird. I am too small to wield a toothpick. I can only come along side my sticky friend, avoid the adhesive and say, “Don’t panic, do your best to remain calm. When I was stuck in jam, a toothpick was provided and I was liberated. If this happened to me it can happen to you.”

The second problem is that I have never been a seabird doused in horrible sticky black oil.

I can only rest in my ladybug self and know in my heart that because I have seen mercy given freely to a little bug, how much more abundant will that mercy be poured out for a bird who was created to soar above the sea.

Testimony

There was a time in my life when I was subjected to prolonged inordinate pressure. It was exceptional pressure that not many people experience.

In those days I had access to a church building, and I let myself in at night with the intention of pouring out my heart in prayer.

And so I did, except to my astonishment, what poured out of my heart was a like a lava flow of the shock and grief I was experiencing expressed in every dirty word I had ever heard and had banished from my language for at least a decade.

There I was right in the presence of God while with agonised pangs I emerged from the chrysalis of religiosity.

How did He take it, all that filthy language?

Well how did you greet your newborn?

He drew me to his breast and gave me a brand new name.

Perceptions

Today when I was folding my favourite shirt from the washing I had to finally admit it was time to stop wearing it. This shirt was white, made of the softest cotton and draped elegantly over ‘baby Richard’ the impaired abdominal muscles on one side of my tummy.

It’s almost as though I had refused to see that the material was so thin now it was virtually transparent, that both underarms had holes, and that the neck was tattered and stained. Instead I always greeted it with pleasure. I always felt great in that shirt.

What changed was that while I was folding the washing I was also making coffee for visitors. Their presence caused me to consider that there were other ways to view my favourite shirt. It might just possibly be a bit of an old rag.

Since then I’ve been thinking about how differently I see that garment now. What if there are other things like this that I just never notice?

What if we made a habit of checking our perceptions? What if we stood outside of ourselves and looked back? What if we went way up high and looked down? What if we went way deep inside to the source?

I think we might all be surprised.

Try it.  You might see a contented wife who is not long-suffering at all. You might see a husband who is whole. You might just see an undercover granny.

Reclaimed Land

One day when we were walking the dog around the block my eldest son asked me to interpret a diagram on a sign. I am accustomed to him doing things like this. This is the same boy who sends me texts saying “I am at the east side of the terminal” so it’s kind of a given that I’ll need to have something explained to me. Well the diagram on the sign looked like the anatomy of plant, but I was soon enlightened that it was in fact an elaborate drainage system. It turns out I live in a residential estate in south-eastern Queensland which was landscaped with a view to ‘achieving carbon neutrality over the longer term’. Apparently ‘a creek and 21 ha of degraded farming land were rehabilitated as part of a 300 lot residential development.’

In practical terms this means that right across the road from our house is a purpose-built water catchment area filled and surrounded by native plants. Just a street away there is another one. These are two tiny lake oases teeming with ducks, Moore hens, and great awesome water birds. I once turned a corner and there on the fence was a huge spoonbill with a fabulous hairdo and close set eyes with a look as if to say “huh..what???” Any land not specifically set aside for building has also been replenished with native bush. Running right beside it all is the Bruce Highway.

This makes it an inbetween sort of place to live. On one side of the road you have the lawns, tended gardens, fences, cars and bicycles and dogs and cats. On the other side of the tarmac live all sorts of other creatures. No one brought them here, they all moved in when the plants began to grow. On any given walk you might see a mum with a pram and a dog dodging a scurrying family of Moore hens, or a great lizard in a tree, or flocks of aerodynamically assorted shapes in the sky.

I guess there were a bunch of people around here who looked at a fair sized piece of unproductive and depleted land and went to a lot of trouble and expense to restore it. The land has not been returned to its native state, but it is teeming with crazy unfettered life.

The result is wild and not always comfortable or easy. The creatures are killed by the cats and dogs and each other, and the cats and dogs in turn get bitten or poisoned and don’t always win their battles with the mega lizards. Sometimes you look at a blistery patch on your skin and just have to cross your fingers that whatever bit you wasn’t too deadly! Still it is incredibly inspiring to look up and see the huge outstretched wings of a water bird or an eagle.

It seems the place I have moved into spiritually is rather similar to those of my natural surroundings. A lot of wiser and smarter people have been replenishing the world around me that was once a very controlled place. A lot of us are discovering that farming isn’t the only way to be sustained by the land. We are sorry that the things we believed were damaging and foolish. We are sorry that we believed we were separate and superior.

We are at a place that is neither virgin bush nor urban landscape. All sorts of uncomfortable but wonderful things surround us. Seeds we didn’t even realise were there are sprouting little tender leaves, while others for which we had great designs have been slaughtered.

It may be haphazard and unpredictable, but feels a whole lot more honest than where we were before.