4B A Stairway Addendum: Enrichment (for fun only)
I feel compelled to help the reader—as well as future anthropologists—to understand this strange phenomenon of the Maya, for few in the world today know true stairway flying. I'm the only such flyer I've encountered. It's because of my extensive experience that I feel I know—only after reconsidering these issues recently—much about how the Maya must have flown. Let me fill in some technical details, for a surprising amount can be derived from these details.
First, a quick background of my own knowledge (a knowledge I've never truly plumbed till now). From my earliest memories I've always loved stairs, the more the better: spiral staircases in European castles, stairs to the Pyramid of the Sun in Teotihuacan, hundreds of lighthouse & tower & spire & parapet stairs. (I also climbed everything vertical.) My dad, brother, and I went up & down all the stairs we could find, always two steps at a time, but never for the stairs themselves. My personal game, running down stairs, which was essentially a kind of thrill-seeking sport, started for me in high school, when I attended a private school built on a hillside. To go from Science to P.E., for example, involved perhaps 130 stairs over 4 staircases, and these became for me a daily game, my practice stairs for an unconscious flight curriculum.
I lived at my school for three years and often stayed weekends to work (for my board and spare cash). Coming off some solo shift, especially from the dining hall at the top of the longest stairway, I would regularly find myself running up & down these stairs, much as a basketball kid might shoot hoops on a playground. Four stairs at a time (skipping three) was my standard maximum, four being hardly a trivial number (and representing here a much greater vertical drop than four Mayan steps). But I reached five on many occasions, enough to scare breathless anyone watching. For this adults regularly scolded me, so I tried to be discrete, even running at nighttime to avoid being seen.
Four steps I could manage comfortably without shift or preparation, but five takes more. No way to do five steps without shifting. Consider for a moment just jumping a single flight of five steps, from top to bottom just once (which means not touching four). It's a major jolt, awful on the joints, something I have not attempted since blowing out my ACL in soccer in my late twenties. And yet somehow, when you're flying down five stairs at a time, there don't seem to be any impacts. As I note above, you don't seem to land at all. You're just touching off the side of the wall, a quick tap to make sure it's still there. And when you finish properly, it feels like no more than stepping down a single stair. (I don't quite get the physics of the vanished momentum.) I've always felt that to a viewer below my flying must more resemble rappelling than running. It's a series of perfectly controlled hops, but at crazy scary speeds.
The reason I probably never reached six stairs at a time (not touching five) was not because it was beyond my ability. To be clear, five was beyond my ability, though I accomplished it nonetheless, and six marked nothing new or hard to imagine. But six was generally impossible for me because no stairway was long enough. You can't just start with six-step leaps. I rarely even took three on my first jump. You have to work your way up, quickly, but incrementally. You also can't finish on a five-step drop (at nearly the speed of falling), which would be a hard landing indeed. That's not the goal anyway. The goal is perfect control, to finish like a ballerina on toes.
Now here's the key: It all comes down to rhythm. The time interval between touches, no matter whether it's two steps or five, must be nearly the same. Thus the initial two steps should look slow & lazy, a last chance to test one's shock absorbers before bouncing & bounding. These steps, however, critically set the tempo needed for high speed five-step drops further down. Start too fast, and the rhythm can't be maintained. The rhythm needs to stay nearly constant.
A Calculation:
Here's what it might look like when I consider the safe minimum number of steps needed to reach five steps: (This might seem fancifully abstract, but I insist I know this physically.)
Top: Two steps,
three steps,
three steps,
four steps,
four steps,
four steps,
five steps,
four steps,
three steps
one step Thus at the very least, 33 steps
Simply to reach five, however, never counted for me as an achievement. I only "counted" five if I could keep it up for at least three (really four) consecutive leaps. So add ten more. For me that's now 43 uninterrupted stairs minimum. Ideally, of course, I would choose to add at least an extra count at every interval, one more chance to make the crucial balancing adjustment in air, a half-second maybe, before falling further & faster. I'd also prefer a more gradual slowdown. Therefore, I figure my ideal staircase needs at least 63 steps to reach "five at a time":
2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 4, 4, 3, 3, 2, 1, 1 (w/ victory pirouette!)
My high school staircase had a landing partway down, enough to break this ideal rhythm (though I reached five anyway). To fly an ideal staircase six stairs at a time, by my reckoning, requires at least 97 uninterrupted stairs. Stanford Stadium's staircases were the only ones I knew long enough, and these were only available to me—spontaneously, with no warm-up or second shot—just two or three times over about a month (following Olympic soccer games no one else attended). I didn't hesitate, but I did stop at five.
The only places I know that have more uninterrupted stairs than Stanford Stadium are the Mayan pyramids. This the Maya achieved by constructing two or three steps for every one of ours, and in so doing, raised the difficulty & hazard enormously. I note honestly, despite my knowledge & arrogance, I can't quite see myself transferring my proven skills to these too-small steps. Yes, I, too, had to be incredibly precise, but I did make mistakes that I fortunately managed to correct in mid-run, mid-air. A few awkward runs almost came to disaster, a matter of falling out of rhythm, rolling out of a bad final landing. And yet my landing margins were so much larger! (And obviously, like any good Mayan priest, I never once fell.)
It must be pointed out that in the Yucatan there are no mountains, few hills to mention. The limestone jungle goes on forever flat without overview. Only the pyramids rise above the jungle. I mention this to hint at mystical systems we can't imagine, but also to illustrate some basic physical facts. Where did such a stairway practice originate? Surely not the Yucatan, but somewhere else with elevation, where stairs were daily life. The forebears of the Maya may have first created pyramids largely because they needed mountains and didn't have any. Consider also more narrowly, for instance, where would-be sorcerers might practice their skills. With no cliffs or hillsides the only place to hone one's flying techniques would be the monolithic pyramid itself, in full view of all Maya (although on the secondary staircases). Watching flyers practice, then, would be commonplace, right next to the marketplace.
Now consider what might occur on religious holidays, which derived from astronomical events and called for games & sacrifice. Of these we already know much. One can find the stelae and temple walls adorned with headless heroes. To become a man in the Mayan world, one had to spill blood. Kings, for instance, endured ritual foreskin perforation, where the blood spatter was scrutinized in divination, while top athletes vied to enter heaven clothed in the glory of a great ball game victory. Priests had deeper hungers. These were the sorcerers who tapped human souls and fought wars of dark magic. No self-respecting cynical mob—namely the rabble at the Pyramid's base—could dare be swayed by less than a spellbinding performance. Which is what they would get.
First come the novices, local teenagers mostly, a few on fledgling flights, following bitter roots and sacrifice. Blood smeared, but not injured, they emerge at the Pyramid's apex, having ascended the easier backside out of view. Brave boys only, they commence the choreographed parade, fully-feathered, five or ten at a time, dropping three to five steps in unison and at intervals matching the drums and jade flutes below. As one group reaches the bottom, another proceeds from above: higher acolytes, brighter colors, rarer feathers. Those at the bottom return around the base to the back, change outfits, snort some sacred fungus, and re-ascend. A few rising stars are featured next, in seven- & eight-step drops. Well-oiled heartthrobs, these studs fly both down and back up to tap-dance the ledges as if strutting a catwalk. Soon they group up to defy gravity as human cantilevers covering much of the Pyramid face. Later, they recombine for competitions & mock battles, for lusty male improvisations, baiting & seducing the rabid audience. (A woman faints; a dog barks in tongues.) Then the main event: The new apprentices are put to test. They, too, must attempt eight-step drops, and they must maintain their pace for over half the Pyramid's length. Nothing less will prove their worth. First, however, an added touch: High priests lower a great basin on ropes to the middle steps, where a higher priest then ceremoniously puts it to torch. As its contents burn blue & green, the five or six newest hopefuls line up on top. All are waiting now. Ten seconds, ten minutes — it's always a surprise. The basin explodes, spilling its burning oil & shrapnel shards all over the stairs. There's the signal: Fly or die.
And of course, one or two (in any solstice show) will "fail to fledge" (we'll say here euphemistically), while the rabble keep score and recount with glee how ol' Three Rabbit, the Grand Poobah ten years back, tripped at the top and landed right on his clock, and how his successor, Four-Rat Jaguar then stomped on it for good measure! Meanwhile, after the mob has stripped all corpses of their sweet & sacred flesh, the stage is set—jade flutes ascending—for the current Master Vampire to muster his dark moxie and fly & hover & dangle & drop a dozen or more steps as if on spider wire. While he flies, he also sprays his Mayan pixie dust, ejaculating o'er the masses magic & technology worthy of the abyss. All is feathers, all is flame, and then he's gone!
A languid aftermath: Catheterized by the master's threads, still draining on his line, the dazzled rabble wander from pyramid catharsis to their farms & knotted nightmares. Just another Mayan Monday…
3/17
Hail aliah
§
[Regarding our isolated rural setting: I, too, immediately loved the utter silence of the upstate house, its unkempt acreage bleeding into the lazy bird sanctuary next door. I, too, love to walk. I also found the setting ideal, because I could shed my domestic responsibilities, especially parenting (nearly the only time). Normally, when Scribe came to my house, my wife would greet him, spend a day to connect, and then she would jump ship to some outdoor class in the mountains, or maybe visit family in the Bay Area. She knew that when Scribe came, the house would be turned upside down (starting with the sleep schedule). Nearly every minute with Scribe is an intellectual mountain, and my wife, despite her Stanford degree, is not an intellectual. (I cannot describe the force of Scribe's mind, unrelenting examination.) She'd run off—to take care of business that she had to accomplish, Scribe or no—and I'd have to juggle parenting by day with ouija by day & night. Most years' sessions brought me to exhaustion, going for a week on four hours sleep per night. In Upstate, on the other hand, there were no outside concerns, just peace & silence & real nighttime darkness, and we could sleep whenever we chose.
[As it turned out, the house, with its extreme isolation, took a long time to sell, and thus it marked the setting for our 1997 sessions as well. I have such happy memories!]
I was up by 8:15 and took a walk before [Scribe] had risen. I was
blissfully taken with the rural beauty, expecting New England-style scenery,
but finding it all so much better than my fond memories of Middlebury. Upon
returning, coffee & titling with [Scribe]. Some basic house-grooming for the
realtors (clients tend to balk at ouija boards & candles). A small breakfast; big
lunch. The half-hour drive to Poughkeepsie for a week’s worth of groceries --
a week’s worth of gourmet snacks and awesome dinner entrees: steak (2 nights),
hamburgers (2), trout, swordfish, pesto pasta, other delicacies. (We ate
extremely well.) A long walk in the bird sanctuary next door: beautiful,
although hot & humid & mosquito-infested by Northwest standards. [Scribe]
insisted -- and experience had taught me -- that both the insects & weather
were actually far better than normal for the season. No flies or Lyme-carrying
deer ticks. And, of course, lots & lots of talking.
For the most part, this easy indulgence was repeated daily for more
than a week, and it was really quite wonderful to be so unfettered.
Our invocation this evening was the seventh & most recent of [Scribe]’s
own Cherubic Hymns, “To the Morning Star.”
11:10 PM
Which World to Choose?
1. Q: [Guide], are you there?
A: I DEMAND YOUR ATTENTIONZ –
REQUEST YOUR PEACE
This seemed quite strong. Also, the subject of the second
sentence wasn’t entirely clear.
2. Q: You have our attentions. How do we request our peace?
A: FOLLOW OUR EYE INTO [THE] LAKE –
SEE [THE] THREE PLANETS AND CHOOSE
This made perfect sense until [Scribe] reminded me that,
in fact, four planets are pictured on my mandala, an image I know
as well as my own face. How I had forgotten Josef’s world?
3. Q: There are three planets on the mandala – plus one (Jane, Anand,
Don, Josef). Which are the three?
A: ANAND [THE] PLACE OF WATERS
4. Q: In conjunction with which other two?
A: DON [THE] PLACE OF STONE
JANE [THE] PLACE OF [THE] FORESTS
YOU HAVE [NO]T [THE] STRENGTH TO SEE…
5. Q: To see Josef’s world?
A: [YES] IT IS STILL TO SEE
The world I had simply forgotten – or had I somehow
known all along? How to choose? Quickly I suggested a method
which included both [Scribe] & me and yet was also based largely
on providence. Without my seeing, [Scribe] wrote down our three
candidates in an assigned order; then I randomly chose a number
between one and three (in this case, one).
6. Q: We have chosen Don’s world.
A: I AM NOT SURPRISED
Instructions for Travel
7. Q: Tell us the next step.
A: IT IS LIKE PULLING
The process we had used in the past. I had been dreading
this somewhat, since it had previously required exhausting amounts
of energy.
8. Q: Like -- but different?
A: [YES] WE ARE TO PICTURE OURSELVES AS STAYING
IN ONE SPOT
9. Q: How do we picture Don’s world?
A: AN ALEPH THAT FILLS [THE] ENTIRE ATTENTION
WE DO IT BY PIC…
10. PICKING A POINT OF REFERENCE WITHIN
OUR INTENDED PORT
A deliberate fade out? After reading A#9, I was rather
sure “pic…” began the word “picturing.” Although “The Aleph”
is a major touchstone for [Scribe] & me, and comes up frequently,
Jorge Luis Borges's story of a single point which contains the
universe had not heretofore been mentioned at our board.
11. Q: Such as?
A: A MAYAN PYRAMID
12. Q ([Albion]): The Pyramid of the Magician at Uxmal perhaps?
A: [YES] IT SERVES US WELL
Why was I not surprised? Dear Reader, you might recall
how on several occasions Don has referred to Mayan pyramids,
so that last December, once I knew [my wife] & I would be visiting
Yucatan later in the year, I asked him for advice. (paraphrased)
"As you ascend the steps of the pyramid, keep your mind on
that [other] sun," was what he offered. In the months that followed,
while planning out our itinerary, and for reasons which exceed
logical explanation, Uxmal became my destination of choice.
[In re-reading my 1996 session notes, I find an embarrassing
omission that needs correction. It concerns Mayan pyramids and a central
feature that distinguishes them from their better-known Egyptian counterparts:
Egyptian pyramids are built from one- and two-ton blocks. If you climb
an Egyptian pyramid (as I have partway), climbing is the operative word.
There are no stairs. Mayan pyramids, on the other hand, are, in fact, almost
nothing but stairs (or steps). That's almost all one sees. My key omission
was that these stairs are, in fact, way too small to be helpful. The steps (I'm
guessing) are around four inches deep, meaning it's not possible to get your
whole foot on any step. With most pyramids ascending at a 45º slope, these
small steps actually make pyramid climbing quite dangerous. (In the
litigious U.S., we'd never allow tourists to set foot on one.) It would be
easy to lose your footing; and, if you did, there's a chance you'd fall all the
way to the bottom. (If you tumbled, rather than slid, you could well die).
The front side of the Pyramid of the Magician at Uxmal goes one step
further. It ascends at 60º, so that when you're standing on the staircase,
you can reach and easily touch the stairs level with your face. The steps
are mere ledges, footholds on a rock-climbing wall. Ascent for most people
then is a climb, both hands and feet on the steps (and chain provided). That
I could manage ascending without hands was, to be clear, both dangerous &
arrogant. From my youth I have a brazen history of stupid, dangerous climbs.
Don't attempt this at home!
[Archeology, incidentally, has little understanding of the collapse of
the Maya. Warfare, we know, was constant—often ordained by mere
astronomical conjunction!—but without beasts of burden war couldn't be
waged at any great distance. Thus, neighboring cities might be obliterated
through war alone, but not the whole civilization. Most scientists attribute
the collapse, then, to several factors, primarily war & crop failure, the usual
suspects. Of course, no scientist can offer a theory which suggests abysmal
sorcery. Nor can scientists properly explain why Mayan steps are so tiny.]
We arrived in Yucatan in late June and had great fun. Among
other events we climbed pyramids in Coba and Chichen Itza, although
even at the time I regarded these as practice for Uxmal. Finally, upon
reaching Uxmal, we immediately came to the back side of the Pyramid
of the Magician, the dominant structure. Practice at Chichen Itza
turned out to be critical for [my wife], for Uxmal’s steps seemed even
smaller and the stairway seemed higher, ascending at a 45 degree
angle. I had difficulty focusing, but knew there’d be other
opportunities. I climbed to the top and circled from the back to the
front of the pyramid. Not until I literally leaned over the edge, did
I realize that there were, in fact, stairs at all, for here the angle is 60
degrees! [My wife] could not get down these stairs; I got down with
great care, using the chain to be safe; and we saw several others make
aborted attempts.
That same day, after visiting the ruins at Kabah, Labnah &
Sayil and after a good dinner, we returned to Uxmal for the English
night show, which, though corny, was still worthwhile. During the
show I had some mini revelations. I realized the stairway represented
one’s ascent in life to knowledge, to enlightenment, and the many
little steps represented the many challenges one faces. It is easy to
get caught up in these steps, I thought; you forget where you’re going.
Yet if you keep your mind always on the sun, you can’t ascend the
little steps. I also realized fully that the stairs were deliberately
difficult and that this structure with its difficult steps was the most
public monument of an entire culture. Whatever the purpose behind
the stairs, everyone knew it.
The next day [my wife] and I decided to reenter the ruins
one last time (we were staying across the street). This time we
focused exclusively on the Pyramid of the Magician, ascending and
descending the steeper front side several times. In the last of my
three ascents I really focused my intent on that “other sun” and
ascended without using my hands while also looking up. With pure
effort I could ascend, but there was no way I could also think of a
sun. Then I realized: the task was simply impossible -- insane!
There was no way to climb without carefully monitoring each step.
To do so risked serious injury, even death. Don had played a good
joke on me; and yet I knew a lesson was forthcoming.
13. Q: Please go on.
A: A LESSON WILL BE HELD ON [THE] STEPS OF [THE] PYRAMID
BRING [THE]M INTO Y…
14. OUR MINDS AS YOU STAY HERE
ON [THE] LAKE [our Grotto]
15. Q: Further instructions?
A: [YES] IMAGINE [THE]SE STEPS AS YOU LAY HA…
16. …NDZ ON
[THE] PLANCHETTE -
AZ IT STIRS WE ARE ALL THERE EXCEPT [THE] DREAM
MASTER
17. Q: When the planchette starts to move, we will be on Don’s port?
A: DON ADDRESSEZ YOU THEN
12:00 AM
We proceeded. It took only about five minutes before the
planchette began. [Scribe] reported he had an easy time seeing
the stair wall once I told him how it appeared. I found that although
I could visualize the small steps quite easily, I was not comfortable
with my task until I felt them as tactile objects. Then, once I felt
myself move to ascend the steps -- both hands & feet kinesthetically
engaged -- only then did I feel wholly present. No sooner did this
happen than the planchette took off.
Don’s Port
On the Steps of the Sorcerer’s Pyramid
18. A: ALIAH HAIL
WE ARE AT [THE] FOOT OF [THE] SORCERER’S STAIRWAY
WELCOME TO [THE] [SCRIBE] & MY APPRENTICE
A simple response, but amazingly deep in allusions. Notice
Don refers to the “Sorcerer’s Stairway,” rather than the “Magician’s”;
thus I find myself in the shoes (or is it cap?) of the sorcerer’s
apprentice, making Don, my teacher, a sorcerer by extension. Not
only is Don alluding to the ancient story, but also to Disney’s Fantasia
version, which [Scribe] and I had discussed on our walk that day.
Specifically, we recalled how “Mickey” was the most famous blotter
acid while we were at [college] and how fitting this symbol was
for LSD. The tabs featured a color picture of Mickey Mouse in
sorcerer’s cap & robes, and I had the privilege of indulging in a
couple.
Finally, “sorcerer” is a word [Scribe] & I use only in
reference to Carlos Casteneda, who, in turn, uses the term to describe
the pre-Toltec masters. (And it should be noted that Uxmal was
eventually conquered by the Toltecs and includes carvings of the
serpent god Kulkukan, otherwise known as Quetzalcoatl.)
19. Q: We enjoyed our “travel.”
A: IT IS A FAVORITE OF MINE AS WELL -
I WONDER IF SOME OF [THE] OPIUM EATERS DID
SOMETHING AKIN?
[Though we knew Don referred to De Quincy and Coleridge and
perhaps others, it never occurred to us that Don could just be making a drug
allusion.* We knew his affinity for these authors and assumed we'd be hearing
more shortly. It happens. Not all loose ends get tied up.]
20. Q ([Albion]): Don, regarding my real-life ascent of this pyramid, I learned
(with humor) that it was nearly impossible to focus my intent on
anything other than simple survival.
A: [YES] AND TWO POINTS COME TO MIND
21. Q: Tell us the first.
A: IS THIS A PICTURE OF YOUR EXISTENCE IN TIME?
22. Q ([Albion]): It does so seem. Each stair is an all-consuming effort now.
A: NOW [THE] SECOND POINT
23. Q: Please go on.
A: WHY IN [THE] WORLD WOULD ANYONE CONSTRUCT
SUCH A STAIRWAY??
24. Q ([Albion]): My thoughts exactly.
A: NOW TAKE A MOMENT & GIVE YOUR ACUTEST ANSWER -
THIS I…
25. …S A LESSON*
Notice the excessive punctuation of the previous responses.
[Scribe] & I took a break and discussed. We had some ideas
but no clear answers, so [Scribe] broke our response down to the
smallest possible steps (like the tiny steps of the pyramid), which
seemed smaller than I thought useful. Yet his method quickly
proved its worth, and we found ourselves using it again on subsequent
nights.
12:42 AM
26. Q: Don, we’d like to answer in steps.
1) To build steps so serves no apparent functional purpose.
A: [YES] OBSTACLE NOT EASE -
CONTINUE
27. Q: 2) Therefore a different kind of purpose is at work: i.e. a sorcerer’s
purpose.
A: AND WHAT IS A SORCERER’S PURPOSE?
28. Q: Generally, a quest for knowledge, and, by means of knowledge, freedom.
A: EXACTLY SO -
NOW STATE [THE] NATURE OF ABUSE IN THIS QUEST
The old drill; yet I think we appreciate the value of this
reminder.
29. Q: Knowledge can be used to extend the self at the expense of others.
A: [YES] HENCE [THE] VANISHINGS
[THE] TEARS IN [THE] NET
Note Don’s purely visual pun.
30. Q: Surely this was not the end that the sorcerers of the stairway sought?
A: [NO] INDEED
[THE] PURPOSE OF [THE] STAIR IS PURELY PRACTICAL
PEDESTRIAN
31. Q: Isn’t that a complete contradiction [of all you’ve implied thus far]?
A: ONLY IN [THE] ORDINARY ATTENTION -
GO ONE STEP PAST, PLEASE
32. Q: Say the stairs were used as a ritual item: to focus intent.
A: DID THE ANALOGOUS STAIRS FOCUS YOU ALBION?
God, no!
33. Q ([Albion]): They did not focus me; they distracted me.
A: WHAT WOULD NEED TO BE DIFFERENT
34. Q: Inescapably: a different attention.
A: AN OLD SAYING
35. Q: We like these: please go on.
A: A BARRIER TO ONE ATTENTION IS A DOOR TO [THE]
NEXT - OR…
36. OR - WHY NOT? - A STEP
Suddenly we both saw what the archeologists may never
allow: the stairs were deliberately designed as a kind of test or trial
for would-be sorcerers. That is, in a [sorcerers'] theocracy a public
has the right to know who’s a legitimate sorcerer and who’s a fake.
Anyone who could run down these stairs would have to be the real
thing -- someone who could make the necessary shift in attention.
Fakes, well, they wouldn’t be around very long…
37. Q: A picture comes to mind: Mayan sorcerers running up & down
these (impossible) stairs.
A: [YES] AND THIS WAS CALLED?
38. Q: We don’t know, but it would help you know who the sorcerers were
rather quickly.
A: IT WAS CALLED FLYING
39. Q: So we’re right: the stairs did act as something in the nature of a test
or trial?
A: [YES] A CRUEL ONE AND YET WE TOO CREDIT ASCENT
And yet I, too, am a runner of stairs. In fact, I’ve long
considered this to be my greatest physical talent, well beyond my
soccer playing. (I’ve gotten down Stanford Stadium’s stairs five
at a time in a matter of seconds.)
40. Q ([Albion]): I’ve long had a predilection for running down stairs. Comment?
A: A SORCERER’S MAXIM -
GOING DO…
41. …WN LET YOUR FEET NOT TOUCH [THE] STAIRS -
DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
42. Q ([Albion]): I understand it kinaesthetically.
A: IF YOU TOUCH [THE] STAIRS YOU FALL? - OR RISK IT
43. Q ([Albion]): You can touch, but you can’t land.
A: I FAVOR YOUR MAXIM [NO]T THEIRS
It seemed unusual praise from Don, but I can say my
“maxim” came as close to direct seeing as I can consciously recall.
That is, I physically felt what I said -- not intending a question -- but
[Scribe] caught the words and wrote them down as such. I don’t
think Don was really praising my words as much as how they arrived
(almost as a spasm)
44. Q ([Albion]): What do I make of the bee sting at the top of the Great Pyramid?
[another Uxmal pyramid, inaccurately named]
A: IT IS NOT UNCOMMON IN [THE]SE ADVENTURES -
LAUGH OR CRY THEN GO ON -
DON
[Upon ascending to the top, I was suddenly attacked by the most
persistent of bees in what proved to be an all-out slugfest—the bee
attacking; me swatting—for perhaps three non-stop minutes. (I connected
several times, but it just kept coming.) Then, once my wife reached the
top, both of us swatting, it continued assailing us for an additional minute
or so, until the bee finally saw its opening and nailed me just below the eye,
my sunglasses flying off the pyramid. WTF!!!]
A non-event apparently, although I’m not entirely convinced; it was
so weird! And then, a few days after this session, while with [Scribe] on
Poet’s Walk (on the banks of the Hudson), I was stung again -- this time
with complete stealth, no warning & no sign of the perpetrator.
Coincidence?
We took a long break. Notice Don signed off, signaling the end of
that part of the lesson. Upon returning, we decided to use our time with
Don to discuss [the end of] his poem, since it had been named as our theme.
Before you come,
An old monk has to dream about an anchor,
A tiger in Sumatra has to die,
Nine men have to die in Borneo.
1:46 AM
Don on [His Poem]
45. Q: Don, we thank you for what we hope is only the first part of your lesson.
We would now like to address the three endings of [your poem].
A: DON —
AS YOU LEARNED THEY CAN STAND FOR THREE METHODS
OR TASKS
Because the three tasks were so clearly divided by lines, we
proceeded in like manner.
46. Q: “An old monk has to dream about an anchor.”
To [Scribe], this suggests a specific dream task.
A: A DREAM TASK IS ONE STEP IN A SET OF TASKS —
TWIN QUESTIONS —
47. Q: Ask us the first question, please.
A: WHY AN OLD MONK?
48. Q: “Old” here means: farther up the kite.
A: GOOD CONTINUE
49. Q: “Monk” indicates discipline, devotion.
A: ALSO A CONFLUENCE OF SOLITUDE & SODALITY
Although [Scribe] guessed correctly, even he was unsure enough
of the meaning of “sodality” that we looked it up. “Fellowship” is a fair
synonym. I had had no idea. We enjoyed the juxtaposition & alliteration.
50. Q: Second question, please.
A: WHAT IS OR WHO IS AN ANCHOR?
51. Q: First, who. To [Albion], an anchor is your contact, your first colour.
A: EXCELLENT & NOW WHAT
I find this a particularly good pun.
I felt particularly informed in this ["anchor"] department. The first
letter in my book of letters is to Jane on contact. In it, “to anchor” is my
anchoring verb; and I had spent months (and persist) with this theme.
52. Q: To [Scribe], an anchor suggests a line between what is lowest & highest:
a kind of kite-string.
A: OR BETWEEN DEEPNESS & SUPERFICIE [s]
53. Q: To [Albion], an anchor connects one in non-being to something other-than-
one in being. Yet it is not so much the line itself as the end of the line.
A: AN ANCHOR IS NOT AN END AS MUCH AS AN INTERSECTION —
DO YOU AGREE?
Absolutely, this was what I’d meant, even if my wording had been
poor. After all, if one anchors oneself to a contact, that contact must, in
turn, be anchored. And there can be no symmetry here. If two souls anchor
each other, fundamentally they have no grounding.
54. Q: (We do.) We feel that “dream about” is the best synecdoche for a wide
range of acts of intent.
A: DREAM ABOUT INCLUDES DREAM
[Scribe] had to teach me that “synecdoche” means a part that stands
for the whole. I was getting a good vocabulary lesson.
55. Q: But where does method come into it?
A: [THE] OLD MONK MIGHT BE YOU BUT HE ALSO MIGHT BE I —
FOLLOW?
56. Q: The old monk could, but need not be, a “higher self” of the paralyzed self?
A: I WISH TO LEAVE IT OPEN
57. Q: It’s not so much a method as a means of connecting.
A: INTENT IS [THE] MEANS
ALIAH IS [THE] FIBER
We turned to the next line, that which seemed most karass-inspired.
Tigers are now an old symbol for us, but Sumatra & Borneo also are
significant since they lie on the Indian Ocean. Recall, years ago this ocean
—along with a Mayan pyramid, a lunar eclipse, and the ideal sphere—
were given as aspects of our higher selves, which we obviously cannot yet
comprehend (cf.94: 23.87). At the time we believed Don’s list to be
interesting and arbitrary, but then [Scribe] found a classic photo of [Don].
In it he is seated at a desk in a library. In the foreground are a stack of
books and a globe showing “Oceano Indio,” as well as Indonesia.
2:36 AM
58. Q: “A tiger in Sumatra has to die.”
We all share the tiger, although it sometimes appears in other forms
(leopard, jaguar).
A: [YES] NOW DISREGARDING VARIATIONS OF FORM
59. TELL ME WHAT [THE] TIGER IS TO YOU —
60. Q ([Scribe]): It is power. Specifically, power that initially appears alien &
overwhelming but which nonetheless somehow belongs to one—even if
one cannot yet make use of it.
A: SORCERERS ARE SAID TO BECOME TIGERS
61. Q: Why does the tiger have to die?
A: I SAY DIE BUT I MEAN TH…
62. … AT [THE] TIGER VANISHES AS A
SEPARATE BEING FROM [THE] STALKER
[THE] ACT…
63. …WAS ONCE CALLD SWALLOWING [THE] TIGER —
64. Q: Who’s the stalker?
A: IN A SENSE IT IS OCEANO INDIO —
[THE] OTHER HEMISPHERE OF YOURSELF
65. Q: So far the higher self (monk, Ocean) has to do everything for the paralytic.
A: HENCE [THE] THIRD RESPONSE [who says only “92”]
66. Q: “Nine men have to die in Borneo.”
We can’t help thinking of the nine elements of the sequence.
A: [THE] NINE STEPS TO [THE] SUN?
Our sequence of mandala members, plus the Jewel, which leads
[Scribe] & me to ourselves outside of time. [Scribe] has used this sequence
in his work, as I have just begun my own sequence work. Recall also in my
own sequence the figure of Albion is my last step, and in our group Albion
stands in & for the sun.
67. Q: These are steps the paralytic is taking?
A: RIDDLE —
HOW CAN A PARALYTIC CLIMB STEPS?
68. Q ([Albion]): Flying?
A: [NO] GUESS AGAIN
69. Q ([Scribe]): How about: with his eyes?
A: IN OUR WORLD SEEING IS ACTING
70. Q: Does anyone else wish to add to this reading?
A: PLEASE BEAR IN MIND ANCHOR & TIGER & [THE] NINE MEN
I MEAN TO REFER TO THEM —
VILANSIT & JANE
A choice response! Teacher & twin are now singular.
71. Q: Anand?
A: COME TO ME TOMORROW
I PROMISE TO OPEN MY THOUGHTS
“Anand’s Tiger” (Poem)
72. Q: Thank you all. Parting words? (“Anand’s Tiger”)
A:
[THE] TIGER CROUCHES IN [THE] DUSK
HIS EYES SWALLOW ME WHOLE
AT DAWN I COME TO DRINK AT THE RIVER
LOOKING DOWN I SEE [THE] TIGER
— ANAND
Perhaps our clearest poem to date.
Drug Alert! The Sorcerer's Apprentice
Henceforth, let tab-sized Mickey represent content that alludes to, pertains to, or may be tainted by, some sort of drug-induced subjective mindset or speculation—indeed, the reason I took drugs in the first place.
*
(for example)
El Castillo - Chichen Itza
The Pyramid of the Magician (front) - Uxmal
The Pyramid of the Magician (back) - Uxmal
: Bottom
The Table of Contents below is too long to display fully. If you click to the right of these Lessons,you'll see the primary source documents displayed under each. These original sessions are a world treasure.
albionspeak: a draught of language (5.3)
SESSION 35: 2ND NIGHT, 8/5/96 (New York)
5.3: Session 35
Images & Attributions (in order of appearance)
1. Banner: Rhiannon C. 2016
a) Jewel Mandala (2): D.C. Albion 1994
b) Jewel Ouija Board (2): D.C. Albion 1994
2. (a & c) Mickey Mouse as "The Sorcerer's Apprentice," Walt Disney, ©The Disney Company
b) "Glad Day" or "The Dance of Albion," William Blake, c.1794
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/47/William_Blake_-_Albion_Rose_- _from_A_Large_Book_of_Designs_1793-6.jpg
3. Photo of El Castillo, Chichen Itza: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/51/Chichen_Itza_3.jpg/360px-Chichen_Itza_3.jpg
4. Photo of the Pyramid of the Magician (back), Uxmal: https://nebula.wsimg.com/69b45262c9cbf8dc46e651ac090eef4f AccessKeyId=87D6517D53233CC989FB&disposition=0&alloworigin=1
5. Photo of the Pyramid of the Magician (front), Uxmal:
http://sacredsites.com/images/americas/mexico/pyramid_of_magician_uxmal_600.jpg
6. Albion Glyph: William Blake, "Glad Day" or "The Dance of Albion," c.1794
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/47/William_Blake_-_Albion_Rose_-_from_A_Large_Book_of_Designs_1793-6.jpg
7. (faint background) Reversed photo image of transcript page (Don, 2004): D.C. Albion 2017
8. Photo of Nohoch Mul Pyramid, Coba:
Coba: https://s-media cache ak0.pinimg.com/564x/1b/54/a4/1b54a412039fb7e05125f992955d82e4.jpg
Nohoch Mul Pyramid - Coba
* In pyramids with a 45˚ slope, the height & depth of each step are always equal (rise = run), both between 4 and 5 inches.
In pyramids with a 60˚ slope a step that's 4 in. deep has a height of almost 7 inches.