Love Story: In The Web of Life (3 page)

"I'm a scientist, a patent attorney. I deal in
hard factual physical things. Voices do not come from inanimate
objects. Furthermore, I was seeing specs of light all over the
place as I was landing. This all must be some kind of retinal
problem coupled with a dream during my nap. I'd better see my eye
doctor next week. It must be some kind of eyestrain–related thing
exacerbated by flying and the desert heat."

As we continued walking to the trailer, I
explained, "But It seemed so real. It said its name was Uriel." I
repeated somewhat louder, "
There it was, a
voice coming from a speck of light.
The voice said it
was giving me a message from a group of consciousnesses that is not
on this or any other planet. It said it, or they, want me to study
something about space and time. Why would I want to do that? It was
a crazy experience! It must have been some kind of weird
dream."

We walked silently for a while. I kept my
distance, while she glanced at me quizzically. After a very long
silence, she moved beside me, took my hand.

After a while she said, "Long before I knew
you, I had a friend who took me to channeling sessions in North
Hollywood. Have you ever been to one?" She asked, looking
askance.

Her big blue eyes were open wider than usual
with her eyebrows raised. I knew she believed in all this
metaphysical stuff, but I hesitated to talk to her about it. She
had learned that it was not a popular topic of conversation with
me. This was a no-no place we would not go.

"No, can't say that I have," I said somewhat
formally. "I think I need another beer."

She linked her arm with mine and said,
"OK."

We walked the rest of the way to the park in
silence. Coors therapy and the affection made me begin to feel
better. We walked up onto the porch of the trailer, and she steered
me to a deck chair.

"Sit here big guy," she said, "Help is on the
way."

I drank the second Coors and looked at the
desert while she made a salad for dinner.

CrystalAire is at 3,500 feet on the upslope of
the San Gabriel Mountains, about a hundred miles north of LA. From
my trailer porch, I can see fifty-and sometimes a hundred-miles
north, sometimes forever across the Mojave Desert. On a
crystal-clear morning, I can see the blue outline of the southern
end of the Sierra Range. Although it might be 105 degrees during
the heat of the day, the evenings cool off and I often put on a
down parka. On this night, the normal desert breeze was stronger.
The soaring thermals wouldn't amount to much tomorrow.

Tina called, "let's have dinner on the back
patio, sheltered by the mobile home, out of the wind."

We ate our salads and had a glass of wine
without too much conversation. I was still silently mulling over
the event of the day. Tina was also deep in thought.

As it grew dark we heard a pack of coyotes
yipping as they pursued prey, probably a jackrabbit running for his
life. Then, it was quiet.

I broke the awkward silence. "I love the
evening sounds of the desert. Later, we may hear the sounds of the
kangaroo rats shaking seeds off bushes. When I first came out here,
I thought it was the sound of rattlesnakes, and was afraid to go
outside at night."

Tina eventually said in a somewhat serious
tone, "If it is not good soaring weather tomorrow, lets go to
Rosamond Dry Lake and you can introduce me to your new Mason jar
friend."

"I can't," I said. "It disappeared after the
tow plane showed up."

Tina paused a long time and observed my
expression. Then, got up from the table, walked over, kissed me,
and said, "I think we should forget about this in the
shower."

I woke the next morning as the sun brightly
shown through the window. I could smell coffee and hear Tina
working in the kitchen. I walked in. She was wearing one of my tee
shirts that came down to mid-thigh, and chopping vegetables at the
sink. I hugged her from behind and kissed her on the
cheek.

She shrugged her shoulders and pushed me away
with her head saying, "Careful, I'll cut my finger or drop this
knife on your toe. Get yourself some coffee."

I drew a cup of coffee, leaned my rear end
against the counter, and glanced at Tina. She had her hair in a
ponytail and had her usual mischievous expression on her face. I
wondered if she was putting something unusual in the omelet. She
glanced back at me with a questioning look in her eyes. "I was
expecting a much bigger smile this morning after..."

I interrupted, "I apologize, I was thinking
about what happened on the dry lake as I was waking up." I walked
over and gave her a big kiss.

"That's more like it," she said. "Is it going
to be a good soaring day?"

I replied, "No I don't think so. There is
already a little breeze. Those high cirrus clouds are a bad sign.
Also, I am still a little distracted."

"Good," she said, "One of the ladies at the
pool spoke with me about the Devil's Punchbowl in the hills not far
from here. It sounded interesting. It is supposed to have an
interesting energy, er, rock formations. It is a State Park with
trails and self-guided tours." She showed me the State Park page
she had looked up on my iPad. "Pinyon Pines, chipmunks and
California Ground Squirrels. It would be fun to go for a hike. They
had a spot of rain up there last week and there may be some spring
wildflowers in bloom."

"Sounds good," I replied somewhat
reluctantly.

"I'll pack a lunch and clean up here and pack
everything into the car while you go and put your little sailplane
away. We can leave for LA from the park. I know a great place on
the way home to have dinner," she added with some
excitement.

As we ate breakfast, I could sense her
excitement. "I love the desert." She said. "Desert tortoises,
snakes, kangaroo rats bouncing around at night, coyotes yipping and
howling...and then there are the wildflowers."

I was feeling better. "Snakes!" I exclaimed. I
mused to myself, 'Talking to spirits, forget it.'

She thrust my hat and a bottle of water into my
hand and practically pushed me off the porch to get me started to
the runway.

CrysalAire is nearly on the San Andreas Fault.
The San Andreas Fault is like a big rattlesnake that has its tail
in the Sea of Cortez between Baja California and the mainland, and
makes a serpentine arc up California east of the various mountain
ranges to Palm Springs, and then curves around the San Bernadinos
and San Gabrials, which separate LA from the Mojave Desert. It
turns north again and runs inland to Silicon Valley, San Francisco,
across the Golden Gate, to it's head in Bodega Bay. Everyone fears
this snake when it wakes up.

The Pacific Oceanic plate slides against the
Continental plate along the fault and pushes up the coastal ranges.
The Devil's Punchbowl is near the fault, where the sandstone is
crunched and pushed up into jagged sky pointing layers. The park is
in a three hundred foot deep valley in this contorted
landscape.

"This is really fun," she exclaimed, as we
drove with the top down into the hills. She was wearing brief jeans
shorts she called her "Daisy Dukes" and a yellow tank top and her
ball cap. "Here, drink lots of water today," she said as she took a
sip from a bottle of water and handed it to me.

"I have often flown over here in my sailplane
but have never seen it from the ground. The punchbowl is a good
source of thermals," I said. "All that sandstone picks up heat in
the sheltered valley and boils off into a thermal, sometimes the
first of the day. See over there! That little wisp of a cloud must
be over the Punchbowl."

Before I cold entertain many thoughts about
going back and breaking out my sailplane, she looked at the map in
her lap and said with excitement, "Turn left on that road up there.
That sign says Tumbleweed Road. This is the way; we must not be
far."

Soon, we were in the Park visitors’ center
parking lot. We walked to the small weather worn visitors’ center,
went in, spent some time looking at the exhibits of stuffed birds
and animals and bought an area map. Outside, we began to walk down
the loop trail into the Punchbowl. It was a spectacular site, a
yellow sand, and gravel trail descending into a water worn valley
in a jumble of broken sandstone layers pointing diagonally to the
sky, with opportunistic small clumps of shrubs and bushes growing
in the cracks. Tina was intent on stopping to examine the flora
along the trail, reciting the name of each plant, and feeling the
leaves and branches.

Tina said, "I love these Pinon Pines. They
tower above all the rest of the shrubs and brush and seem to say to
me, 'You can rise above everyone else if you try.'"

She turned to me and observed my far away look
and said. "Are you OK? Are we OK? I feel as though you have gone
away."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I am still
preoccupied with what happened yesterday. I am still trying to work
out the logic of it all." I didn't tell her of my medical
concerns.

"You have told me stories of landing-out on
other occasions. They don't seem to bother you much. I have many
friends who wouldn't think it was so strange that you talked with
an entity through a spark of light. One friend has a dog that
channels advice to her"

I resisted, "In your world it might be OK, but
not in mine–I deal with scientific facts and logic."

"Here, have some more water," she said handing
me her water bottle. "Why don't you have a nap in the shade of that
big overhang while I continue to explore the trail. It only goes on
for about three quarters of a mile-I'll be back in no time-and then
we can have our picnic. The ranger said there were some plants in
bloom up there and I don't want to miss them. Just relax. Try
meditating."

"Deal!" I replied, not having any interest in
desert blossoms at the time. I walked over to the shade of the big
sandstone slab, which looked like a slice of tan layer cake that
had been hollowed out underneath by eons of flash floods. I
stretched out on the ground, put my hands behind my head, closed my
eyes, and listened to the high desert silence. I started to doze
off.

"Hello there!" Said a voice. I sat up with a
start and looked around, but saw no one. "Over here," said the
voice.

A few feet away I saw a round, tan sandstone
boulder about the size of a beanbag chair. I saw the brilliant
spark of light in a crack on the underside of the
boulder.

"It is I, the Uriel," came the voice from the
rock. "I hate sandstone, it’s so scratchy."

"Oh, no," I said under my breath. "Good day," I
said diplomatically, wondering what was a proper greeting to
intelligence from outside of space and time. I didn't add that I
felt that this whole
conversation
might be a desert hallucination, or a neurological
difficulty.

Uriel continued in a serious tone," You are
having great concerns about your mental or physical health related
to our conversation. Let us assure you that you do not need to see
a Doctor of Medicine. You need to see someone with the title,
Doctor of Mathematics.

"I hate to tell you, but I have thought it over
I really know nothing about Einstein and Relativity. You have the
wrong person."

"No, you are perfect for what we would like to
see happen. We would like you to prepare for something very
important that will affect the lives of many, perhaps a good part
of your civilization. Think of us as a client with a mission to
earth."

"That's fine," I replied. "But, what would you
like to see happen?" My lawyerly questioning strategy was kicking
in. "And how could I put you on the witness stand? I can hear it
now, 'My client in another reality is suing for infringement
damages.'"

"Let's start with incentives," Uriel replied
slightly mocking my lawyerly attitude. "In this case, you will
prepare yourself to be on the leading edge of the thinking of the
future and get yourself recognized as a source of knowledge. Since
we do not trade in your dollars, we can promise you personal
benefits to be paid in personal growth, exposure to exciting new
ideas, and dreams-come-true."

I was taken aback and realized he precisely
seemed to know my weaknesses. I was bored with my patent work, and
had enough money to buy all the stuff I wanted, including a very
expensive sailplane, but no real must-have dreams. I just wished
for something different in my life.

Uriel continued with a much lighter, almost
comedic tone, "We can talk about all this later. Now, how about
those Dodgers."

I laughed and replied, "I'll think about
it.'"

Suddenly, I was being tickled and emerging from
a deep sleep. "Wake up big boy," chuckled Tina. "You were snoring
so loudly all the wildlife was fleeing the canyon."

I shook my head, sat up and rubbed my eyes. I
felt a surprising sense of peace.

"He's back?" said Tina after looking
quizzically into my eyes. She brightened. "I have been told there
is something in this desert air called 'Funk-be-gone' that works
every time. This is the guy I have been dating. Come on, let's go
have our picnic."