On the ground from the end of the loop, the worm stitches what looks like pulses.. and a bit like a seismograph…. “And to be clear… I’m not checking your physical heart here, Buddy…” it says..*tap tap tap..* “it’s your emotional heart—there’s a difference.” The Skeleton hums, “so the difference is this: The Emotional heart is nestled down beneath your physical heart; while Your physical heart beats 100% of the time, your emotional heart only does so when there is something of meaning directly related to your purpose that activates it.”
“And ya see that island over there–Self-Island– the place where I was locked up.. ” The Skeleton points somewhere off in the distance that I can’t see–past the fog.” It continues, “Wormy, there is doing some clearin’ underneath the soil… hopin’ for some waves to seep past the Tree of Life there on that Island”
The Skeleton continues. Non-stop. “Cuz’ the waves are all comin’ here, what we’re tryna is perform cardiatric bypass surgery on ya here, Buddy–even if your emotional heart ain’t beating, the physical heart pumps oxygenated blood up into the brain — allowing’ it to keep working.
And by plucking my keys here–they act like keywords–happy, sad, glad, mad, hopeful, chaotic, all whacked up–. Keys that unlock memories– I’m searching’ for a combo of emotion and memory that could stir up the memory that’ll cause the emotional heart inside that physical one to beat. Ya can call it our loop hole, if ya will of getting our way to an emotional heart that ain’t beatin’…”
I listen to the Skeleton. The sounds in me are bringing forth a lot of emotion alright– with no rhythm in between–plucking memories I wasn’t even aware of, or had long forgotten, like when I was born, my pre-school years, high school, college, shuffling through the library of my life, of all my experiences of employment, vacations, homes I’ve visited and lived in, people I’ve met, blurring into each all at once… A faint voice, saying Phase I, breaks out in my mind.
“Yup no beat…” the Skeleton says.
I’m surprised, considering the amount of emotion I’m going through–especially with my breath being all frantic. I see circuit being stitched that looks like a diagram, or seismograph of my breathing.”
“These memories are all jumbled, they keep zipping in and out—spinning all over the place!” I shout. The Race Track of Life is an apt comparison to the state of mind I’m in; the waves on the ground reflecting an earthquake or torrential sea of mad, angry waves with dramatic peaks and troughs–and the sounds of waves crashing and the dragon breathing heavily..with the screams around me.
The Skeleton stops waving, observing the waves, to which it replies “dead sea”, sounding unimpressed.
“Dead? That movement doesn’t look dead to me– it’s frantic.”
“Ya heard me, kid–D-E-A-D. Simple–it’s dead. There ain’t no Pathway of Life, or promise of the right amount of electricity weaving in through there–to tie memories into a sequence and sprint your emotional body back into life. That pattern might be crazy– but it ain’t gettin no waves to that web on the island.. an’ none, zip, nada past the Tree of Life on Self-Island. Besides, ya ain’t doin’ any talkin’ to get the worm to clear something up in case any blood drops got stuck in the soil. Instead, poor wormy is getting stuck in its clearin’…. an’ unable to start the Pathway of Life..”
“Pathway of Life?
“Yup, the Pathway of Life islike a pulse running through the brain from which the routes grow out–so let me ask..a question to ya instead of the other way around–an’ those Doc’s orders. I’ve got a little bit of trivia for ya…What’s another word for race track?”
“Uhh..” I hesitate before I say anything.
The Skeleton smacks its forehead, “circuit! circuit! and where is this circuit, or race track located–the one we are trying to get off of?”
“The mind…”
“Bingo! Now tell me, what is another word for the connections the mind makes between its brain cells?””
“Uhh.. I think it’s a sy…” I stumble for a bit, “synapse?””
“Good. You got that right. Ding, ding–now, do you know what a combination of synapses make?”
“uhh..”
“Come on you’re killin’ me here, Kid–worse than the dead sea..”
“Circuit…”
“Right.. so do you know what’s the relationship the heart and the brain?”
I look at it dumbfoundedly—it proceeds to tell me:
“The heart an’ the brain are like a feedback loop—sendin’ signals back and forth to each otha—knowin’ which one sends a signal first is a case of the chicken an’ the egg— try’na figure out what comes first kinda fries the mind.. then ’ gets is all scrambled..—but whateva..
Now, the physical heart sends signals through blood to the brain telling it what to do. This is all powered through the breath, kid. The brain takes that oxygenated blood and functions with it, pushin’ out waves through the brain cells, which then send signals to the physical heart. Together, the brain and the heart need each other for both to communicate with the rest of the body.
Over there on Self-Island, where I’m locked up most of the time and where good ol’ wormy is clearin’ memories in the soil—it’s them sea waves that carry signals to the treasure, being the heart or engine. Them waves convert into droplets after splashin’ on the island, and drip to the heart/engine/treasure/ or the Philosopha’s Stone. As wormy clears the soil, we get more of them right kinda waves to Self-Island that are likely to get that heart /treasure/ engine beatin’. Your breath stimulates bringing ova them waves there like the wind.
“Ya know what else is wild?” The Skeleton continues, ” It’s them stars up there that drive the waves over.. Them stars are like neurons.. an’ the neurons in your brain map to them. Wild, right?”
I open my mouth, feigning astonishment—but it continues.
“I know—I really feel ya there.” The Skeleton strums a bone that sounds like a cymbal delivered at the end of a joke’s punchline. “Now, if a droplet falls–the emotional heart may or may not respond.
Howeva, if that emotional heart does beat– it sends a signal through the blood up to brain.. and in that white blood is DNA.. which happens to activate the DNA in the brain’s cells on how to line up; so that DNA holds the road map, in not only programmin’ the biological body—but also connectin’ the biological mind to the intelligence of the Cosmic Self– within a System called the System of Self. Nuts, right?”
“I see..” I say, my head further spinning from the info dump.
The Skeleton doesn’t care—it’s on a roll.
“These line up of the shapes in the brain are what then can be mapped with the constellations of stars in the sky —on the basis that the brain and the universe share a simila’ underlyin’ structure.
Did ya know new constellations in the sky can always be made up? It’s what them ancients did—made up these shapes called constellations—dependin’ on when and where them stars appeared…then linked up stories to the stars–that’s how they could find a star an’ know where to go.
In them stories ya be tellin’ yourself are lessons mappin’ to the soil underneath Self-Island in the DNA tunnel– cuz in those grooves are lessons a self has gotta follow in their life to be led to makin’ the treasure/engine/or Philospha’s Stone beat…an’ the sound the heartbeat/treasure/engine/Philosopha’s Stone makes becomes a signal— them signals are what direct ya to know where to go. ..It’s them stars/neurons bringin’ ova the wave to become that signal in the first place.
The droplet from the wave falls on the engine/treasure/philosopha’s stone/or whatever ya want to call it, gettin’ the emotional heart to remember its purpose—this is what creates the signal directin’ ya.
So, can ya hear anythin’?”