When Schrödinger’s Cat Gnaws

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“Time is a game played beautifully by children.”  ~  Heraclitus, Fragments

“How quickly we grow accustomed to wonders. I am reminded of the Isaac Asimov story “Nightfall,” about the planet where the stars were visible only once in a thousand years. So awesome was the sight that it drove people mad. We who can see the stars every night glance up casually at the cosmos and then quickly down again, searching for a Dairy Queen.”  ~  Roger Ebert

Cousin Roger had a point there, to be sure. Yes, we are likely distant cousins, if not closer; families both came from the same Chicago area base, geographically speaking. But I am not one to neglect the stars or take them for granted. I read voraciously as a kid. Our house was never far from the library, always walking distance, in that small town, Clayton, Missouri, which has since become a friggin big city, yet it still swirls thickly with the memories from my childhood. I liked books about science and paranormal stuff best. I don’t recall it being called paranormal back then. But the science – the more I read, especially physics and astronomy, the more it became rock solid in my worldview that the better part of my world was all out there. I don’t mean better in the sense of quality, although I might think seriously about that at times; maybe later this afternoon would be nice. It is, after all, Sunday. I mean better in the other sense. Larger. Neil Armstrong (first fella to set foot on the Moon, kids; knew how to read and write cursive as well) pointed out that our huge planet looks like a pea from the moon. As a kid I would have been reaching for the pea shooter, right away without a thought. I hold deep respect for the stars. And if I ever do neglect them I find myself glancing up because I can feel them staring at me, and they are like all dude what’s up.

I didn’t mean to go all Garrison Keillor on y’all there. My bad. That’s really his job, not mine. Sunrise was muted, beautiful in that way, and mostly pastoral, except for them goofy ravens. I heard a couple of squawks overhead and looked up to see two of them flying side by side, except one was flying upside down. Ravens are weirdos. Maybe that will set the tone for the day? Could be. I’d be down with that. The thing is that I don’t really want a specific something from the day at all. I’ve got a strong urge to go to some park, Kit Carson, maybe the Eco Park, and walk the paths there. I’ve got to get the writer in me up off of his scrawny sedentary assets and out into the wide-open aerobic spaces. Or I could go to the Historic Plaza and be sedentary there, while taking in the rich people watching potential there. The idea of walking to wake up the writer within actually came to me from a woman named Brenda Ueland, from her elegantly simple book If You Want To Write (that link is the complete book, pdf. I recommend it highly), which is pretty much just what it sounds like. When I first read it I was living in Worcester, Mass., and danged if Ms. Ueland didn’t pry me right up and off of the chair. I liked to leave the triple-deckuh (sic) apartment and walk east on Shrewsbury Street until I came to a copse upon a steep incline leading upside Bell Hill. There wasn’t much of a view up there, not like yonder west on Airport Hill, where panoramic was the word. Hear tell a woman, a cousin of a friend, was driving up near the airport one day and a moose leapt from the hillside, landing square on the hood of her car. The animal just shook itself off and continued on it’s way. Had it been me, after my heart started again, I’d have been looking for the flying squirrel. You just never know, right?

There was something very strange happened to me this morning, and it was so personal that I’d decided to not share it here, and then I changed my mind, and back, and forth, then back again. My dad – I told him once that I had changed my mind and he said “What was wrong with the one you had?”. Anyway  .  .  . I found a seriously beautiful video of Jason Mraz and Daryl Hall doing one of Jason’s tunes (click that link. It is a treat). The song is about a man declaring tenacity and longevity in a relationship. At one point it reminded me of Lori Mellon, who was my soulmate, no doubt, and she died back in ’95, so I carry one of those wounds that will never heal. I started to cry out of longing, with a dash of despair. I almost never cry. And it was nearly a sob-fest. Rosie the cat was on my lap, and when the tears began I closed my eyes, and I felt her slink away from my lap. It was starting to slip beyond my control when I suddenly felt someone patting me on my right forearm, as if to comfort me in my grieving. WTF, I live alone. So I opened my eyes to see if Lori’s ghost had come to call. Nope. The cat had exited stage left, climbed up on the desktop, reversed direction, and began acting out; my crying pissed her off. I opened my eyes to witness her gnawing on my arm, yet the action was cushioned by the thick fleece of my robe, so no fangs. What do I make of this? The feelings were true and purely so. It was as if Lori had really been there. Was she really? I was wide awake so there were no hypnopompic shenanigans going on. Back when I used to participate in the Institute of Noetic Sciences’ early discussion boards I had taken the stance that when Spirit came to call it came through along the path of least action. I learned that concept from hippie/physicist Fred Alan Wolf. He used it in describing one aspect of shamanism (Fred is a shaman as well) as it relates to quantum physics. It is not “the path of least resistance“. It’s pretty much the Law of Conservation of Energy sidled upside the shamanic Toltec virtue of impeccability. Joseph Chilton Pierce described impeccability as – well, basically it means to use as little energy as is possible when performing an action; a lazy man’s means of performing an act of sorcery. What I mean to say here is that I believe that it truly was Lori reaching out to me, when I hot-wired the connection between our souls by listening to that song. And that takes us back to shamanism and physics as well. Quantum entanglement, which has been demonstrated in the lab, says that when two particles connect that connection never goes away, no matter how far away they are in space and/or time, and that goes for the future as well. Stephan Hawking said that according to quantum physics there is no reason that we cannot remember the future! So Lori reached out to comfort me this morning. The feeling that remains from that dreamlike encounter is as good as gold in that my heart is now at ease, and I got a fair amount of purging done through that one small action of opening my eyes to see if she was there; and it is the full moon as well, so the Veil between the Worlds is thin. Either way, spirit visitation or not, the effect is the same. I rest my case. The only thing that really bugs me is what the friggin heck was Rosie doing gnawing on my arm?!!! I have no idea, but she loves me. They both do. True story, mon amigas y amigos. Love knows no bounds.

Peace out, y’all. Goof gloriously.

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