I looked at it. The mug I mean. The background color is a striking red and it has large white snowflakes adorning the sides. I suppose I can understand why people think it signals the holiday. Be my guest.
"I drink from it throughout the winter season, I said, and I'm still under the care of Feldspar, my winter guide. Not that he has anything to do with my choice of drink joy, but still, there it is.
"Feldspar? Is that your spirit guide," she asked.
"He's a rock troll," I said, "and I suppose you could say that he's my spirit guide, and possibly get away with that in some circles, but he prefers to be called a sponsor."
"Sponsor?" she said.
And so here it was again. Every time I try to give someone insight into the life of yours truly, I run into the mountainlike obstacle, that the Genome life is somewhat alien. Maybe I'm a pod-person, I don't know. It just seems like a lot of trouble, a waste of breath, before I get to the point I want to make.
But this Claudia is a good egg and I want to be courteous and understanding. Her best friend, who happens to be another good egg and my god-neice, is also with us in Native Grounds this morning and I certainly don't want to embarrass her. I also don't want to cross her because she's my greatest ally when it comes to Genome's foreign policy.
"I've walked the Chatsford Forest for the past three summers," I explained. "I have a routine. As soon as I enter the edge of the forest, I turn to face the east and sing a song of gratitude to the dawn. Makes me happy and makes for a good day to die."
"A good what?" she said.
"Oh, sorry," I said and I was thinking that at this rate we'll never get to the end of the blog post.
"No need to freak," I said. "It's not what you think; it's an Indian thing. You might think of it as Native American or indigenous. But this is all diverting and we don't have time to go into it right now. My coffee's getting cold."
"Oh, of course," she said. "I remember hearing that phrase once before. A good day to die. Meaning that I've lived without accumulating regret and all amends have been made. Got it."
"Well, once I've completed my Fierce Qigong salutations, I'm immersed in exoteric nature and I'm in the Daoist zone. I'm ready to set out on the path that hugs Gazebo Lagoon and takes me to my rock on the banks of Fountain Lagoon."
"Right," she said. "I understood less than half of what you just said but I'm getting a whispy gist of it I think."
A quick glance at Lupe told me that she was enjoying this repartee immensely. Her eyes were wide as saucers and there was a distinct glow of glee on her map. I'm sure she was hoping for a total bust-up, ending with a wet smack and a complete miss. But I continued.
"I met Mockingbird a few summers ago when I found her high atop the welcome sign near the community center. She was singing to raise the sun but still finding the time to catch reckless mosquitos that drifted up from the marsh below."
"The way you say Mockingbird makes me think she was a guide too," said Claudia.
"That's right," I said. "After hearing her story about being responsible for starting each day by waking the sun with her song--I'm talking about Mockingbird--I felt called to ask her to sponsor me; or to be my guide if that's the way you're bent. She graciously accepted my request to become her disciple, but she suggested that I might want to take additional precautions by introducing myself to Rock and asking for his support as well."
"I must admit to being quite skeptical of becoming dependent on a rock until she reminded me of a scripture I'd learned as a child at a time when children still learned such things. The verse she quoted went something like this,
"The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and..., my strength, in whom I will trust."
"There it is. There was no decision to make. It was laid out for me in. no uncertain terms."
"And so I followed the path that led to the banks of Fountain Lagoon and there he was, my Rock. And just as Mockingbird suggested, he is always there for me, always. Each day, I greet him with a handshake (or the equivalent; more like a pat, actually). I express my gratitude that he's there for me and then I'm ready for anything that life may offer up."
"But what about, Feldspar?" she asked.
"Oh, right. Sorry," I said. "Didn't mean to leave Feldspar dangling like that. Rock introduced us. Actually, Feldspar showed up one day and introduced himself but he said that Rock had recommended he do so. We've been pals ever since."
"You have an interesting life, Genome," she said.
"Interesting, yes," I said, "but a bit of a jumble from time to time."
I glanced at Lupe--you didn't forget that Lupe was among those present? I looked at her and found her holding her head in her hands and shaking it back and forth. I asked if she felt light-headed and offered to get her a cookie but she waved the suggestion away.
And so, dear reader, there you have it. The subject of this post emerges from the words in exactly the same way that consciousness emerges from the collapse of the quantum wave function, i.e.
And there it is. The subject of this post emerges from the lines of this post in exactly the same way that consciousness emerges from the collapse of the wave function according to the math function that serves as the foundation of quantum mechanics.
