The Language cont'd.

For one man, one wife was enough. Sex was longer and by far more fulfilling than those hiding in fear. The touch of the tongue on an erogenous zone was accompanied by an exhalation, the breadth and heat of which conveying knowing and driving pleasure. The act of sex was accompanied by holy speech, each syllable and word meaning an ascended step in pleasure, the whole affair driven very carefully toward a simultaneous, long and explosive event such as they each knew life to be. They were with continuity.

When a child was wanted, its gender and time of conception were willed by both man and woman loving in concert. This occasion would, for example, represent a brief stanza in life, in the language of Eden.

While all knew of God and Life, life was adequately diverse and unpredictable as to provide a constant adventure for each individual gardener who at meal times was enthusiastic to share his experiences, even of just the morning.

The spirit of unpredictability imbued every dimension of this garden with apprehension, joyous anticipation. Boredom was simply unheard of, except among the fearful hiding in the forests, losing interest in each other’s claim.

And so language was also unpredictable. It grew and evolved into something more and more crisp, yet lovely in its fullness. While fewer words were becoming necessary, their sounds and meanings grew in dimensions. Man was becoming more Lord-like, more Godly even in his potency. They realized that soon, all physicality may become passé except for those few pretenders convulsing in fear.

There were occasions when a community elder might, even in view of his fellows, ascend, his body transmuting to whole spirit by intoning the ever-evolving Name of God and return again at will so as to continue his contributions to the ever-burgeoning garden; perhaps even some day to have a hand in encouraging the return of the iniquitous, who frighten the beasts.

The individual is a cell in the body of God which when operating fully in concert with all the other operating cells experiences extreme pleasure knowing that it may operate in opposition, as it may desire. This free-willed contribution enhances God’s enjoyment equally.

There are no jobs in Eden. There is activity, which each individual acknowledges as meaningful to his regional community and to the Garden at large and to the body of God. There are no bosses.

But it came to pass that the iniquitous grew in numbers. Their growth in the forest was akin to a cancer and it seemed fearfulness became contagious. Previously noble and heroic gardeners were being infected by fear and began to believe they might be safer joining the bands in the forest.

The garden communities were eventually corrupted by fear.

Thousands of years later, people are genetically disposed to fearfulness and iniquity. The corruption is almost absolute. The gardener’s lifestyle forgotten. Even the garden is obscure almost to the point of invisibility.

Occasionally a young person of noble intent rebels, knowing not to what end, except that he senses something is missing.

The song is lost.


NOTE
Ms Urble is feeling miserable this week. Her stars got misaligned and her celestial neigbour Luna was in her sixth son causing no end of upheavals so with regrets she sends her best wishes to all and promises to be back in good form with Horrorscopes next week, Allah willing.

But in deference to neglected funny bones, here this issue’s remedy, courtesy of Graeme Mackay of the Hamilton Spectator.