Fibonacci Tales: Mother Tales

By eLBe

Fibonacci Tales are fiction written in the format of the Fibonacci sequence, hence the name Fibonacci Tales. What Fibonacci did is plug a 0 and a 1 and set the rule to always add the next two numbers. Each Fibonacci Tales book has:
two one-page chapters,
one two-page chapter,
one three-page chapter,
one five-page chapter,
one eight-page chapter,
one thirteen-page chapter,
one twenty-one-page chapter,
one thirty-four-page chapter,
one fifty-five-page chapter,
and one eighty-nine-page chapter for a total of 232 pages per book.

Fibonacci Tales are written for all ages and in paired sets of books. The first pair of Fibonacci Tales books are Fibonacci Tales Vampire Tales and Fibonacci Tales Knights Tales.

The second pair of Fibonacci Tales books are Fibonacci Tales Dust Tales and Fibonacci Tales Mother Tales.

The third pare of Fibonacci Tales books will be called Fibonacci Tales Cat Tales and Fibonacci Tales Goddess Tales. These books are works in progress during mid-September 2016. The author expects to complete the third pair of Fibonacci Tales books and available around early to mid-2017.

Fibonacci Tales books are designed for electronic book reading. Each pair of books includes music callouts that are essential to the stories (music has the power to calm the savage beast), and therefore, Fibonacci Tales books do not lend themselves to printed book format.

Plus the cost of printing two pairs of books and pressing two CDs for each pair of books would not be cost-effective, and it would be an outright irritant for the dear reader who would have to advance the CD one tune at a time and stop the CD before the next tune began as CD players are designed to do. I would utterly hate to read Fibonacci Tales in printed book format. For that reason alone, scratch the idea of publishing Fibonacci Tales in physical book format. I will not agree.

On the plus side again, I have two disinterested readers who will read and comment on Fibonacci Tales books once they are available in e-book format.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 13, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524556594

eLBe

When I was age three to four, I became wickedly angry about something, and Mom was no help. I went to the source, and I demanded to know why I agreed to come here and why I agreed to do this! The master said, “You have not because you ask not,” and I took that to heart. I asked. The divine one replied, “I can tell you everything you want to know about why you came to life, what you agreed to do, and even why you agreed to do that, but then you will have to forget.” “Why will I have to forget?” I demanded. The DO was silent for an infinite eternity then replied, “So that you will live and experience the pain, the anger, the injustice, the slings and arrows of cruel fate that befalls humans in one way or another, at one time or another, while they still remain in their body, mind, and brain. Their earth suit. “The spirit that inspires (the breath of life) and animates (quickens) the earth suit into life is, was, and always will be, infinite and eternal. A wise man once said, ‘God is a circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere.’ “In truth, man cannot be outside of the presence of the divine. Yet, in the conscious mind of man, the source of all and everything is ‘out there.’ It does not indwell the body, mind, and brain of man. “I gave mankind intelligence, reasoning power, and choice. Those gifts are placed into the conscious mind of man, where the co-creator lives. Man most deeply trusts linear thinking. Paradox. “To give perspective, the electromagnetic energy of the heart center is five thousand times greater than the electromagnetic energy of the mind. The paradox is not opposing opposites. It’s more of a two-step. “The co-creator mind is designed to collect the facts, figures, and data points of the physical plane, even empirical evidence. It is designed to consider possible outcomes—the likely ones, the lovely ones, even the really nasty ugly ones—and take all that evidence to the heart center and be at peace with it there until the conscious mind knows what it wants, why it wants it, and all the ways and reasons that the co-creator chooses to make the world a better place than it was before. “That’s why you must forget now because only you can load up the co-creator mind of yours with all the good, the bad, and the ugly experiences of life. Only you can teach and invite your co-creator mind to join you in the heart center, and you can do that only when it is your time to do what you came to life to do. “Then will you write Fibonacci Tales books.” 2016. “Welcome home again, crone of mine. Now is the time that you remember everything you forgot when I answered your questions of why you came to life and what you came to do. “Now it is time to accept, and to know that you are eLBe. That eLBe is the author of the Fibonacci Tales books. That the Fibonacci Tales books will change the world, one reader at a time.”

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by eLBe.

ISBN:        eBook        978-1-5245-5659-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 11/03/2016

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Contents

Father Needs You

My teaching Sister said those words to me today, and I was so proud. I was quite certain that Sister (who likes me best of the whole class) told Father what a good student I am and how much I know about God and the church and so he wants my help.

He’ll probably want help doing something important, like writing his Sunday sermon; I know Bible stories really well. I wonder how Father knows I write.

I try not to smile or swing my hair or flip my skirt as I leave the classroom – but, everyone knows that with the right number of can-cans on, that is bound to happen – to go help Father. I know too well what it feels like when Father invites someone else to help, and we watch the chosen one leave.

I’ve studied the seven deadly sins, and I’m pretty sure what I feel when Father calls someone else is the sin of envy. Today they feel envy. The sin I bear today is pride.

I love Father so; he’s the smartest, kindest, nicest person I know and, well, I don’t really know Father… I’ve seen him watch me though, and I think he likes me best. I’m glad Father watched me and now I’m his chosen one. I will serve Father today. Mother will be so proud when I tell her.

***a*fine*reward***

The boy groans and bows his head to his desk when he hears those words.

The eyes and surprise of classmates pin him where he lies prostrate, and their wordless question requires swift assent, for the judgment of classmates is a curiously worse gauntlet to run…

The rare appointment of the boy to West Point after completion of primary school came through as and when promised, and silence again covered the land.

*****all*in*the*family*****

That’s the way love is in some families. That’s what father says when he comes at night, and uncles when they come drunk and clumsy and care-less; and… , brothers when they wake up hard and come.

They say what they do is love and it’s not sin as long as I can’t have babies. They say I’m a virgin until then. I want them to stop while I’m still a virgin, so I need to know when they must stop.

I asked mother how to know… , and she slapped me and cried I lied to hurt and make her jealous. Now she will not talk to me or tell me how to know things so I can make them stop this hard, hurting love.

*******do*you*know*******

If the child is not present when the accusation is made – often excluded to protect the child - a priest is not required to report a claim of abuse to the police.

Prairie Diamonds

Bitch, he spits.

Surprise flashes across the woman’s face followed instantly by offense, then a small swift smile. "I believe that the human personality is like a precious stone formed and cut by the pressures of life, and able to reveal the true beauty of its inner nature only when the perfect facets for that stone have been cut.

She paces before the man and continues. "Life and the experiences of it cut facets into the personality to best reveal the inner nature of each of us.

I have a bitch facet – as you noticed. She reports as dispassionately as one might provide inventory details.

Her delivery is classic Mae West, with a titillating smile to freight the words with a hint of peril as she sweetly suggests: "Don’t stand so close to the bitch facet that it’s the only one you see."

Surprise erupts on the man’s face watching an inner instant replay of the exchange. He considers his options.

She doesn’t blink during the time he ponders possibilities. He man locks eyes on hers, takes a smart military step back, clicks his heels, and plants his right foot beside the left, and aborts a ritual salute in its arc to his brow.

Surprise blossoms on the woman’s face as she contemplates and comprehends the implications of his act.

Glee giggles from her belly to ho, ho, ho from her mouth until the oueue of shock falls from her face.

They were friends for a while after that.

Small Degrees of Silence

He did not take my power from me… , for at first I gave it in small degrees of silence

He’s in the basement, imagining revenuers won’t find his still there, won’t smell rye whiskey on the air or on his breath when he talks bold of the rights and the gifts and power of his family in Germany. Old ways and powers protect him, he tells me loud and angry. More likely the liquor he gives blinds them and lets them not care – or maybe even dare.

Ancient powers don’t hold the same force in this land still flush with new promise and opportunity. Liquor, now, that makes a difference as I see it. Things change when men get drunk together.

Sometimes he seems old… , and I young beside him, ill matched in age and vision. Perhaps we are not equally yoked.

On our wedding night he told of carrying a bag of dirt from the old country, and said that when he filed the homestead deed, he came here and sowed that dirt from his bag over the land, just as he sows grain on the land each year since. He won’t say why he did this thing. If I press to know, he says I should know; that if I were his true mate, I would know. What I do not know. Then he closes up harder than a black walnut, and does not speak for days. The plains are a vast and lonely for his small degrees of separation.

Still, a wife has a right to know why her man does a thing, especially a thing as peculiar as sowing dirt on dirt. He even threw dirt on the land where this house now sits. The house is sturdy though, and even grand, but not so fancy as to make neighbors bitter. It’s a fine house. Yet it aches in silence, and weeps at night the way houses do when a strange sorrow haunts them.

It is a strange sorrow that haunts a wife wanting to know why her man carries Rhineland dirt half across the world to sow it on his lands same as precious grains of proven wheat. He told me this thinking I would understand what he did and why, believing I would know what I do not know.

I will never forget his face shifting from adoration to betrayal, drained of hope for us and our future, a future so thoroughly shattered no words, no love, no time, no truth, can redeem his love and win my redemption from this purgatory of isolation. Still I do not understand, and that pains me. If I knew, I could help. Each time I would share his pain he falls deeper into anguish, each time a fresh betrayal, another solitary descent into torment; and I… , I do not understand, and cannot stop asking what it is he may not share with me who shares his bed.

I am required to keep my peace and so I do and have… , until safe silence is my life habit woven new each day until it cloaks the truth of me from head to toe. Lowered eyes are the veil worn by women of my faith to prove obedience. Yet the veil slips and will not hide my seclusion where I fade into naught.

The plains are too big and empty to encompass and contain the primordial habit of separation sealed fast by shuttered silence… , and only a fiercely persistent mutinous wind to give it voice.

The Thing about Addictions

It’s a controlling belief in powerlessness

And an operative faith in the rightness of that belief

You are not alone – most of the world’s people share that conviction

Only the defenseless must continually compete to demonstrate the presence of their own power to the outer, and apparently greater, world

The physical form(s) through which Spirit expresses is, was from the beginning, and always will be finite

The Spirit inhabiting and expressing as the ‘self,’ with your name and history, is and ever was, infinite, and, infinitely expanding and eternally in at-One-ment with Source, which is Infinitely and Eternally Omnipotent

In Truth, Power is one of the Twelve Powers given to man by Jehovah God in the formation of the Divine Idea of man in the One mind of ‘God,’ a name that, along with Source, Divine, the Infinite, Great Spirit, Allah, and so on, are among the thousand(s) names of God

Your own Good Book reveals the names commonly used in your Faith practice

As an Infinite Essence that I AM, man might question if a thousand names is an operative upper limit on the possible names of the Infinite Eternal Expanding Presence

Addictions arise with the conviction that you have no role to play in the transformation of mankind foretold by prophets and foreseers across all the time of man on planet Earth

They are invoked with the paralyzing awe that you do play a fundamental role in the transformation of mankind through the re-membering of human consciousness with at-One-ment with Source

It’s the (dis)functional fear-faith that there is no possible return to Source because of sins against Source

Consider that ‘sin’ is an ancient archery term meaning ‘to miss the mark’

Assume that the ‘mark’ – your life target – is at-One-ment with Source, then every choice, behavior, action word and thought can be measured against that mark

Your ‘mark’ can only be found in the still small place of Source in your heart center Come soon

Consider that the electromagnetic energy (the attractive force of life) of the human heart center is five thousand times more powerful than the electromagnetic energy of the human mind/brain

Here’s how to use that knowledge, my Conscious Co-Creator. When you have an idea that inspires you, hold it in your conscious mind exploring it for what you like and what you don’t like about the idea. Now, shift your conscious mind awareness of your idea to your heart center and be there with the concept

Notice the idea elements that come with an emotional charge. Sense the ‘flavor’ of the emotions. They are alerts, like ones from the control panel of your auto, to beliefs that no longer serve you

Paradox exists in form. The prudent co-creator considers opposites while crafting an action plan for manifesting an idea/concept from the infinite formless into finite form

Functional awareness of the Truth of Oneness guides the conscientious co-creator to make wise and even enlightened choices leading – without conflict – to manifestation from the formless into form

Consider that an operative faith in Oneness obviates separation anxieties and the consequent sin(s) of separation Go and sin no more, my Enlightened Ones

It’s the anxiety that you may be the Change Agent you see in your highest visions of yourself and the world and its people – a disbelief that you play any role in ‘re-formatting’ life on Earth into the next highest expression, the Next Gen (generation) of what humans came to be and thus to do

It’s the fear of being viewed by others as ‘special’ and the potpourri of human judgments that attend ‘being special’

It’s a reluctance to encounter your own fears – and the fears of your Ancient Ones – they are all your Ancient Ones, and that distresses you too – until you re-member again with the Truth of Oneness that both you and the Ancient Ones are and always were One (with) Source Energy

You naturally embody the fears of your Ancient Ones – otherwise, you would lack the capacity to heal Ancient Fears – all fears are a variety of separation-from-Source anxiety

If you are alive now, you came to restore Spirit to life – begin with your life – which is all you can change

It’s the fear of owning and allowing your Truth, the Truth of what you are and what you came to life to be and to express into life and who you continue to be when your human body no longer serves you

It’s the dis-ease that may accost you in moments of clarity and Oneness when you envision a world in shift and consciously re-member again with the Divine potential in all of mankind and in all of life

It’s the ‘possession fear’ that overwhelms you when beholding visions of who you are in Truth, of the gift you came to bring to life, of your intuitive knowing and ownership of abuses of power by the Ancient Ones Until you own it, you are powerless to change or manage it

It’s yielding to the fear of surrendering utterly to a power so much greater and vaster than your highest hope for mankind. It’s an abiding faith of your own unworthiness and in your personal incapacity to do any worthy and great things

It’s the ancient fear that others will find you out, and they will judge you… , even as harshly as you do

It is lack of self-respect and the rejection of its companion, self-love

You can esteem and love others only as well as you love and respect yourself

Without self-respect, admiration for others is delusion, a fool’s fantasy

Without self-love, love of others is fantasy freighted with a steadfast faith in separation and judgment

Change your mind, change your life, my Enlightened Ones

It’s a lack of awareness that there are always and forever an abundance of positive options and outcomes available to the conscious co-creator

It’s a passivity around making mindful choices about how you’d like your life to show up for you

It’s the E.G.O. (Edging God Out) conviction that you are powerless . . . , just as you were born

It’s the conviction that you are vulnerable and at-risk if/when authentically expressing your Truth

Thus

You

Stay

Small

And

Vulnerable

And

Powerless

The archetypal Victim awaiting… , sometimes hunting for… , an Abuser

Sometimes a hunter stalking the hunter

Sometimes the Victim, eager to grant even the ultimate forfeit simply for the chance to experience the redemption of love…

. . . Among mortal gods

Sometimes the addict forever pursuing the substance of choice

In Truth, Love is a gift already given as one of the Twelve Powers, yet not fully received by man

Arise Prometheus-man, break the bonds of servitude to the sins of separation and return to at-One-ment I await you here, my Beloved One

The Barren Wife

The Daughters should have a say in what’s done about Father, Hester says. "It’s our children too who are spoiled by his randy love. The mothers should have an equal say in protecting our children."

And the Sisters… ?

Hester flashes a lopsided grim grin, The Sisters got their message to Father soon after our pregnant nun ‘retired’ to the nunnery. Our sons and daughters came at risk then.

Jacob nods amiably, the Daughters have as much at risk as the Knights. He looks away, irritated, then snaps: "And, Father would not have admitted the problem in the presence of women. Nor would he have freely been part of the solution. We didn’t leave much but agreement for Father to contribute."

Hester steps away to refresh their coffee keeping her eyes averted. Firmly replacing the pot on the back burner she says he never… , Her frown is rigid, "Father didn’t do anything to our boys did he?"

Jacob chortles, and when Hester looks up he beckons her back to her chair. "Remember when I invited Father to come bless our herd, and I just happened to be castrating a yearling when he arrived?"

Hester nods; Jacob continues, Well, they say a picture is worth a thousand words, so I gave Father a picture so crystal clear that he did not need one spoken word to take my message. Jacob’s eyes dance, "The boys were helping with the gelding, and when Father saw me with my pliers, and both boys helping with the castration, he went a hideous bilious yellow, and excused himself until we finished.

"As Father left the barn he assured us that our new steer would get a special blessing when we were done. Our sons’ eyes blessed me when Father left us to our work; and we shared an openly conspiratorial clucking, crowing, bawling laugh. He nods agreement, Unrepentant… , to the man."

Hester studies her husband and murmurs "You planned that? You gelded that bull for the sole purpose of demonstrating to Father what he puts at risk if he doesn’t keep his pants zipped when performing his priestly duties."

Jacob nods agreeably and says: With intention, planning, and premeditated aforethought; yes, I did.

He appends an apologetic: "I feel bad about the bull though! He’d have sired many fine calves to the herd. He winces and moans and brought in so much money in stud fees…"

Husband, you are disconcertingly like your father when you have decided on a thing. You are one eyed and uncompromising to the end. she grins despite herself, and unlike him, you do it with ominous innocence. She is silent a moment then asks: "What if Father had not gotten the message?

"Wait, Jacob, on second thought, I don’t want to know that. I am deeply grateful that you are on my side. Chuckling softly she says: Instead, tell me what happened in the Knights’ meeting with Father."

Jacob frowns, then slides a hand over hers. "Father admitted that he is a randy son who winked at the vow of celibacy and took the penitent’s path of frequent confession and ‘purifying’ self-castigation. Knowing that complicity inspires secrecy Father made it an honor to be chosen to ‘help’ him on the altar, and always stressed the need to keep their secret safe forever, and to never tell anyone."

"Jacob, stop! Hester gasps; "you must not tell me this!

"I too know how to use your special pliers and I am sorely tempted to use them for an altogether other purpose other than growing meaty beef for the table. This man is our parish priest! Fighting a grin and failing, she revels in glee It would not do for a Daughter to castrate her Father, and throw his balls… , into the sea, I suppose. Our parish is far too small to house that mighty myth, Jacob.

Tell me about the Knights’ solution instead.

Hedda Geis is a Daughter isn’t she? Hester nods with brow-arched curiosity. Jacob sips coffee. Well, as it turns out, Hedda loves Father – her words – according to Reinhold; and she will happily serve as housekeeper and cook, and take care of his physical needs while she’s there.

Studying the steam curling off his coffee Jacob murmurs surly sour stoic "So that Father can keep taking care of the spiritual needs of his parishioners." His last six words come out as a tearing throaty growl.

Hester inhales sharply, and whispers Hedda’s barren! Jacob nods. What did Reinhold say about this?

I quote. ‘She’s barren. She loves sex. She’ll take care of me before, and after, she takes care of Father. I’m retired. The extra income will help.’

"He said it that dispassionately? Jacob nods. That is painfully cynical."

Or purely practical. Jacob defends to the jury in his cup, then adds

Words don’t change reality, Hes. Perfect solutions are of God’s realm. They are as rare as hen’s teeth where man lives. Human plans can’t anticipate all the ways an issue shows up in life. Sliding a hand over hers, he adds life is imperfect, wife-mate. At times only an imperfect solution meets the need.

Hester sighs "I know. Still, I want to protect Hedda from what she knows is wrong, and wants anyway! Lowering her eyes she admits: I have a personal passion to punish Father for the harm he’s done the people he came to shepherd and to shield.

"Why not ask the Church to assign him to another parish, or to another role in the Church?"

Jacob numbers the reasons on his fingers "That moves him to other people who don’t know his problem any more than we did. That is avoidance, it is not a solution. There is nowhere else to move him. He’s too young to retire. And, we are a small parish, insignificant to a global church with past Popes who took the name Innocent to declare their blamelessness for being born the son of a Pope! He clicks his tongue and hisses, I’m not over that yet. And it’s only been centuries since the last Innocent Pope!

"We either resolve the problem with Father, or we keep living with the outcomes and adapting to them because ignoring the truth does not work! There is no perfect solution, Hes, but this one works.

Hedda and Reinhold will make it work, his fierce eyes meet hers, with, or without, Father’s help. Reinhold agreed to the plan first to protect the children, and then for Hedda, he shakes his head in awe and perplexity, "for her good love for Father; and then for the parish, and then for the community."

The couple silently studies the order of the willing Knight’s advocacy objectives. Jacob speaks. "Sheriff Ben was there.

The Knight in him goes militant when talk turns to the pregnant nun… , and it did. Ben wants to go out and strike the head off a serpent, or dethrone an arch-demon, or some other-worldly worthy deed.

"I think Father remembered my special pliers because he glanced my way, and quickly assured Ben that when he became a priest he believed he could be celibate, that he could manage his urges by censure, denial, prayer, and penance. Now he knows better, and he willingly accepted the Knights’ solution."

Did Father tell the truth, do you think?

"Truth is more a journey than a destination, Hes. When Hedda prepares the favorite meal of a guest, she will eat with Father and his guest. Father will not ever again call children from the school to ‘help him’. Jacob scratches his palm vigorously, My hand still aches to use my good tool on our bad priest."

He sobers sipping coffee, Maybe Father heard the truth this time and let it set him free to be the priest he always hoped to be. He’s not the first to feel shame for his physical needs and act in guilty, shameful ways. Did you know Father was zealous about mortification to discipline the body into obedience? I’d hate to be his dog. He grins mischief, "Maybe not, for I certainly would bite the hand that feeds me.

Father owns some fiercely punishing beliefs, Hes, and he has scars to tell the power of those dangerous dogmas.

Scars?

"Before Father arrived; and after the Knights were sworn to confidence, Reinhold told us what Hedda told him about going in to clean Father’s office and finding the good father dishabille with a student.

"Hedda also told Reinhold, and he told us, that our good Father once held a boy’s mouth closed with a ‘fiercely passionate kiss. ‘Hedda’s words’, Reinhold assured… , and not his."

"Oh like any of us Knights would ever imagine Reinhold could ever string the words fiercely passionate kiss together in one sentence? Not!

"We let the bad boy tell his tale to his own tune and in his own time.

"But I thought you would go there, he grins, we Knights certainly did.

"It turns out that Hedda sometimes prepared and served a favorite meal for Father. She quickly realized that each special meal she prepared was actually the favorite food of Father’s guest.

"One day, Hedda asked Father if she could prepare her favorite meal for him and be his guest to eat it. Before Father could think to speak, Hedda softly, meaningfully, and confidentially confessed to Father that she was barren. She could bear no child. And she really liked playing between the sheets.

"And… , the cherry Hedda put on top of all of that sugary sweet for Father was that she had always loved him dearly and well.

"’What man could say no to such an offer?’ Reinhold’s words, not mine.

Reinhold rather proudly reported the understandings Hedda has with Father around the when, where, why, who, and how many for each meal; plus all and any dietary restrictions or requirements.

Jacob chuckles, "Hedda will charge Father by the head fed, the cost of the food, and the time needed to prepare each dish, serve the meal, clean up afterward; and she gets to take home leftovers. She gets safe strange and a personally pleasurable way of earning walking around money.

"As it turns out, the Knights learned that Hedda’s favorite meal is Father’s favorite meal, and soon we were calling it a ‘shake and no bake meal’; and that rampage continued until our watch Knight came to warn that Father was on the way and we should settle down and be knightly before he arrived."

"You planned this? The Knights set a watchman?" Hester’s stunned face betrays a tickled grin.

Jacob nods solemn as a judge, "Indeed we did.

"We Knights did not intend to need Father’s forgiveness before our meeting with him began.

The unexpected blessing of spending our irritation in high camp is that no Knight took down the ceremonial sword and rebuked Father into a gelding before our meeting with him even began.

Hester tips back her head and inhales fully to create inner and outer space for the opening, the allowing, the easing, and the healing laughter that must wing clear and free as an eagle or she will burst.

Jacob watches her as she laughs relief, release, and resolution. He takes her hand in his, strokes the gold band on her ring finger, looks into her eyes and weaves his laughter into the spritely music of hers.

It was an uncommonly dramatic evening, Hes, Jacob tempers his upwelling glee long enough to soberly add: It was, without doubt, the singularly strangest Knights meeting I have ever attended.

What We Must Not See

Sitting on the hood of the car, back against the windshield, the girl delights in the bliss of an abiding sense of Oneness with Source, and with all expressions of life appearing on the physical plane. She hears the murmur of the evening breeze playing through grasses and the sibilant laughter of leaves tossed and tickled by the cooling air.

She listens to the chirps and twitters of nesting birds and the busy buzz of bugs and feels her awareness shift and expand until all earthly sounds resolve into one sound, one point and counterpoint to the cosmic harmony in the symphony of the stars.

Miles away a car door slams and good night calls convey the resonant grace of everyday life in town. These homely sounds are underscored by the song of iron on rails foretelling the rumble of a train still too distant to hear; and through, over, and above it all resonates the soothing music of Mother Earth