by Yasmin Esack
“It was based on the abnormally high frequencies of the radio waves observed. I’ve never actually searched for the dimension. It’s not my field of work. I do know of your study of a realm, so, I’ll leave that up to you. I hope you find it. It certainly exists.”
“Thanks for talking to me, Dr. Laveau.”
“It was a pleasure, Hart.”
Chapter 9
The sun beat down on him as he continued walking on the campus headed to Washington Road. He glanced at his watch. 11.25AM was just minutes short of his appointment with Eugene Lander of the Department of Psychology. He slowed his pace as he approached the man’s office.
Encouraged by Laveau’s findings, Hart typed Pineal Body into his iPhone internet and read what appeared.
‘The Pineal Body develops in the foetus at forty–nine days. According to Buddhists, it’s the same time the soul enters. It is related to higher states of consciousness. The Pineal Body was once large but shrunk over time.’
“Laveau was right,” he said. “Humans once had ability to do anything. I’m not surprised there’re time travellers hopping around. The Pineal Body traps high frequency radio waves according to him and I’m sure they arise from our realm. But…but,” Hart stuttered as the crippling reality descended, “We’ve lost the ability to be super-conscious, haven’t we?” With a remnant of the organ, it was unlikely to be. “Well, we can at least improve our lives,” he conceded with less fervour.
He gazed in the distance wondering about the soul and its purpose to consciousness. It must have one, he reckoned, since it developed along with the Pineal Body according to what he had just read. It long dawned on him that no one knew what it was and all he had was his rationale to rely on. It told him his soul was a mirror image of himself. It was his divine self and was in a realm of light resting on a quantum highway.
Maybe, it was the soul that sent radio signals to its 3-dimensional self, guiding it to perfection.
While he was convinced of Man’s ability to achieve naturally, he was aware that no one would acknowledge a realm was in them. It was all part of nature’s grand design, and, as he stood, his glassy blue eyes reflected urgency in his mission.
I must find where, he thought, knowing that the realm needed space, space that was incalculably great. His mind drifted to philosophers who had spent time reconciling mind and matter.
He recalled the French philosopher, Descartes, being obsessed with thought. Descartes recognized that, while most were preconceived, some were of unknown origin. He did acknowledge that mind and matter were connected. A disturbed mind could cause physical changes in the body.
However, Descartes didn’t ascribe consciousness to a dimensional realm. In fact, no one did but him. Hart was on his own trying to show that consciousness could be afforded humans by way of an inner realm.
From the philosophers of the past, Hart’s mind circled around Isaac Newton who would have known of a biblical reference to a kingdom within. Newton was fascinated by the Bible’s stories of prophecy. He was a seeker of truth. He would have pondered over the reference the same way he did.
Could it be matter in realm of light? Surely, it was waiting to grant stuff.
His heart throbbing with every beat of passion, Hart began to seriously wonder if he would ever know.
“Wise men of the past knew much,” he said now, “Men like Aristotle. Did he know of a realm? I wish I could’ve spoken to him. He was one hell of a philosopher. He said matter was magical. What did you know, Aristotle? What did you mean?” he cried out in desperation. Soon, he cocked an ear.
“Hey, Hart?” the time traveller called.
“It’s you again.”
“Yes. I told you I’m here to help you. Hold on a minute, will you? I’m looking for Aristotle. I can do that, you know.”
Hart waited quite stunned. It wasn’t long before a cool breeze wafted through the calm air. It was a sign to him. The bearded genius was replying.
“You’re referring to a letter I wrote to Alexander the Great, aren’t you, Thomas?”
“Yes, Aristotle. You told him matter was magical.”
“Matter has a mind, a great mind, Thomas.”
“I’m glad we agree on that.”
“How can this world be understood?”
“You know it’s my mission.”
“Well then, how do things come into existence? Matter has expression. Its realm form or unseen form is perfect and infinite.”
“I know.”
“And, it can affect the human mind.”
“Wow! We agree on that too.”
“The mind can do anything. It’s up to you to show how.”
“I’m trying to, Aristotle. I’m trying to.”
“I spent so many years at the Lyceum discussing mind and matter. Didn’t you read my works?”
“Yes, of course, but, I need to know about our realm.”
“Science has made great strides, Thomas.”
“It has.”
“Scientists have identified the energy that gives objects their shapes and sizes so people can see them. What’s it called again?”
“The Higgs-Boson, Aristotle.”
“Well then, they’re on their way to proving the universe has a realm.”
“That’s going to take long, if it’s at all possible. We can only find it theoretically, but, that’s not good enough.”
“Well, of course not.”
“I need to know if the realm exists and if it’s in us. Is there some way?”
“You can see a reflection of it.”
“Really, Aristotle?”
“Yes, as light.”
“People see light during meditation. It’s the realm, isn’t it?”
“Listen to me, Thomas. You need to check through ancient texts. Unfortunately, I can’t recall which ones. My brain has gone rusty, you know. You’ll find all there’s to know of the realm.”
“I’ll find proof in an ancient text? You’re sure?”
“And, an explanation of the Universal Mind. Remember the realm grants you your every wish.”
“I know. Ok and thanks, Aristotle.”
“You are most welcomed, Thomas.”
Excited about the ancient text, Hart started walking to the hallway that led to Eugene Lander’s office. Lander was an expert on the mind. He was anxious to hear what the professor had to say.
Chapter 10
As he hurried, his phone beeped. It was a call from his friend, Jude. He had disappointed her by not keeping their date for the theatre. He was quite sorry about it but of late was consumed by his purpose. Jude, it seemed, had been carried away by his complements about her hair and dress, not that he made many. He had promised to take her to the production of LA Boehme but had honestly forgotten.
“Hey Jude, how’re you doing? Look, I’m sorry.”
“You bastard! Why didn’t you at least phone to say you weren’t coming?” Jude vented her frustration. She gave Hart an earful.
“I’m truly sorry, believe me.”
“I bought a new dress, shoes, had my hair done and I can’t believe you did this! When I called your number, the damn thing was switched off.”
“I don’t know how that happened but to be honest, I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”
“I love you, Tom, and I want to go out with you again. We had such a great time at the movies. We saw Noah and you thought it was really good.”
“It was.”
“Don’t you remember you put your arms around me? I want to relive those moments.”
Hart sighed. “I’ll call you, ok. We’ll talk again.”
“Tom, wait. Let’s meet for lunch.”
“Lunch? Where?”
“At Rick’s Café. I’ll be there waiting on you.”
Hart shut his phone.
“What’s the mind, Professor?” he asked, facing Eugene Lander in his office five minutes later.
“The mind is the seat of consciousness, Dr. Hart.”
; “Would you care to expand on that?”
“The mind generates feelings, thoughts and memory.”
“You’re not dealing with the senses that send messages to the brain, like scent, and sight? I want to be clear on that, Professor.”
“I must know that there’s more to consciousness than the workings of our five senses.”
“Forgive me, Professor. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
Lander sighed. “That’s ok, Dr. Hart.”
Normally confident, he felt insecure, not sure he was prepared for a man as contentious as Hart. He knew of his study of realms, which were indefinable to him. According to Hart, people could be guided by one. He had written two papers in Nature, which he had seen.
“Let’s move on, please, Dr. Hart.”
“Humans have analytical minds, don’t we?”
“We assess situations and make decisions.”
“How’s this done?”
“It’s done by the generation of thought.”
Hart could sense Lander’s irritation again. He didn’t really know why the professor was so defensive in manner. He ignored it hoping to get to his point.
“Are thoughts generated by the brain or the mind, Professor?”
“They operate as one. The brain’s a complex network. When we see something, maybe a person or an incident, we form thoughts, ideas. The mind can draw on memory too. Thoughts can also be generated randomly.”
“Randomly?”
“Yes, Dr Hart.”
“Tell me something.”
Lander eyed Hart again. His shoulders moved with the tightness of his crisp, white shirt as he leaned back and said, “Sure, what?”
“What process generates thoughts randomly?”
“The mind has latent capabilities.”
Hart adjusted his position in his seat. He wanted to be clear about what Lander was purporting.
“Can this latent capability make us creative?”
“Yes. Novel ideas can come from random thoughts, what we call randomization of neuronal connections.”
“And, can something like meditation can draw upon random thoughts?”
“Of course, Dr. Hart!”
“But randomization is like shuffling cards. There’s a process that operates at a much higher level.”
“What’s this process?” Lander chuckled arrogantly.
“What if?
“What if what?”
“The human mind was an extension of a much greater mind?”
“No one can prove that!”
“And, I’m saying the force governs it.”
“It does?”
“Yes. There’s a realm is us that generates thoughts and ideas. It can take us beyond our shabby existence.”
“To where, Dr. Hart?”
“Happiness! We do need to understand the process. It’s not a simple. Our minds are supposed to be like little gods.”
“I have my doubts, Dr. Hart, and I wish I could be of more assistance but, clearly, this is out of my depth.”
“Would you happen to know anything about a light seen in meditation?”
Lander leaned back. He tapped his fingers thinking.
“Meditation is a complex process that involves bio-chemical as well as physical changes in the body. I’m well aware of the light seen in meditation. My opinion is that it comes from the automatic firing of rods and cones in the retina of the eye.”
“Are you certain of this? Meditation quiets the noise and allows one to perceive events one would not normally perceive.”
“No one can be absolutely certain of anything related to meditation at this stage, Dr. Hart.”
“Well, thank you, Professor. Thanks for taking time to talk to me.”
Lander was staring at him when he started towards the door. He paid no mind to doubts people cast his way. He had grown accustomed to it all. American born and a British educated scholar, he had enough voracity to prove himself. The mistruths of life gnawed him. Humans were living a lie, believing in fantasy.
Chapter 11
Hart headed to Washington Road again, walking at a pace. While he had much on his mind, he wanted to set a matter straight. Hart didn’t want to be bothered by anything than his own mission. Jude was calling him and texting him too much ever since they had gone to the cinema, which was her idea anyway, just like the lunch date he would have soon. He had a disquieting sense of her, a morbid feeling of mistrust.
He dialled her number.
“Tom?” she answered.
“Look, Jude, I’m kind of worried about what you said, you know…eh, well.”
“About me being in love with you?”
“Yeah. I… I…”
“It’s how I feel.”
“I don’t feel the same way, Jude, and I thought I should let you know.” There was a moment of silence on the line before he spoke again. “But, you’re a nice person and, it’s just me. I’m not ready for a relationship right now. I…I’ve too much on my mind to be honest. I’m not good for you, Jude.”
“It’s okay. I understand, Tom. Thanks for telling me. We’re still on for lunch?”
“Eh…Yeah, we’re on.”
He hopped the university’s transit system to the main exit. From there, he took a bus to New York City. Choosing a seat at the back, he pulled the blinds and sat, feeling the cool air from the overhead vents.
In the semi-darkness, he felt exhilarated as he began to realize the possibility of finding proof of the realm was real but he wished he had all of his time.
Hart worked for the National Science Advisory in New York and his job involved overseeing abatement procedures for disasters. It wasn’t a job he particularly liked but it paid bills, not that he had many. He didn’t drive a car nor did he socialize much. His expenses lay in clothes and a mortgage for his New Jersey home.
His thoughts ran to the state of the earth remembering the meeting he scheduled with a seismologist, Josh Marin. Tremors were spreading. It was evident in Marin’s data for the Mid-Atlantic, California, and the Pacific regions. Planet Earth was sliding into turmoil. Hart’s fast-paced mind told him that sticking to old methods of reducing global heat wouldn’t change anything. If glaciers could stop melting so much the situation might improve due to a lessening impact on seas but a credible solution was needed and fast. The one option left was Olsen’s search for a new age in Inca artefacts. It was the dawn of the Age of Aquarius, something he felt strongly about and was awaiting the date.
He recalled the last time he met Olsen in California. Olsen had shown him a sketch of a Quipu and had said the Inca wove secrets using knots and threads. A great year would come. It was the Earth’s new dawn and Atahualpa had commanded them to record it.
Hart had looked at the artefact’s weave. The Quipu threads had many knots of different sizes and colours. He had marvelled at the intricacy and the pains taken to record the data but it was the Inca’s celestial connections that captivated him most. Life existed in a realm that was beyond space and time. He believed that, through it, the Inca were able to associate with other worlds.
As he settled for his ride to New York City, his phone beeped. It was Ron Riley, a UN climate specialist he was doing work for.
“Tom?” Riley’s Lou Rawls tone called out.
“Ron, what’s up?”
“Are you attending the State of the Earth Conference in Paris?”
“No, I don’t like conferences.”
Riley knew that. People had often complained of Hart’s brashness.
“This one’s very important. Delegates from all over the world are gonna be there, Tom.”
“That’s the problem, too many people. Why don’t you go?”
“Frustration came from Riley. “You haven’t given me your report on global weather patterns. I’m still waiting on it, so, what do you want me to present?”
Hart wasn’t bothered. The renowned archaeologist, Dr. Arthur Bentley, was going to the Paris meeting to present his and Olsen’s work on t
he Inca prophecy. The world would know there was hope and that mattered more. Feeling a bit guilty, he said, “There’s another meeting coming up in New York. I’ll be ready with the reports but, given the upsurge in seismic disturbances worldwide, we should consider other options, Ron.”
“There aren’t others, Hart.”
“There are. We’re spending a lot of money to examine ocean currents not to mention a barrage of experimentation.”
“What’s your point?”
“Knowledge is fine but it won’t solve our problems.”
“What will?”
“Time. We must search for answers in the cosmos. In the ancient Inca Quipus. Bye, Ron.”
Chapter 12
Jude Cavelle waved to him in the distance. Walking through a line of customers and hurrying waiters, Hart reached the end of the room and took the chair she kept for him.
“Hi,” he said.
Her eyes didn’t connect to his. She was sipping a coke with a straw in her mouth. Finishing the drink, she placed the glass aside and looked at him.
“I feel like I’m pushing you into a relationship that you don’t want, Tom.”
“I can’t worry about relationships right now, Jude.” Hart stared at her brown hair and stylish earrings that hung low on her ears. Her blue silk blouse matched her linen slacks. She was still tanned from her Bermuda holiday. At twenty-eight, he knew she was beginning to feel left out and alone. Jude needed someone.
“You want to get married, that’s the problem. I know you do.”
“So, what? You’re not even giving our relationship a fair chance, are you?”
“Let’s order. What d’you want to eat?”
“I don’t want anything!”
“Don’t be this way. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Friends? Is that it?”
“What’s wrong with being friends?”
Jude stood up and grabbed her handbag. “You’re right. This isn’t going to work out. Not ever. Bye, Tom.”
“Listen a bit, will you?”
“I’m not what you want and I’ve enough friends, thank you.” Jude walked out.
