by Yasmin Esack
“He did. By the way, Bentley believes some sort of equivalent Christian state existed among the Inca before the Spanish came. The difference is that Inca belief emphasizes the cosmos, sky and sun gods. There’s talk of space brothers. A city is supposed to be buried beneath Lake Titicaca.”
“And, you got a grasp of all that from deciphering the Quipus?”
“Yes. I used a ten-bit binary code. I had to work out the meaning of coloured threads. Blue meant sky, green earth, red, fire and so on. Gold was a fairly common metal in Inca time. The threads were used for gods. I had to consider the alignment of the knots, type of knots and size, the length of the vertical and horizontal threads. I also sent the Inca data to Peter Langley at the Chandra Observatory for further clarification.”
“He has one hell of a decoding system down there.”
“He does.”
Olsen pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and placed it on the table, pressing it to remove its creases.
“This gives you an idea of what the numerical data looks like.”
847-937-577-667-847-mn-847-937-577-667-847-mn
“These are combinations of the number nineteen.”
“The date was woven many times by Inca astronomers. From all the data I collected, I found two recurring numbers. I’m looking for a third. The numbers are added to the date of the last solar eclipse.”
They leaned back as the waiter placed the bottles of cold beer on the table. Folding their arms, they took some time with their thoughts. Trays of food whizzed past their heads as the restaurant grew more crowded by the minute. People waited with impatient glances.
Olsen pushed back the ash-blonde curls from his face, unfazed by stares coming from two female diners not far from him. His presence commanded attention, as much as Hart’s did. He looked a barrel of health with his ruddy, tanned complexion. His bushy eyebrows framed his grey, alert eyes. He turned as Hart spoke again.
“So, when was the date actually recorded?”
“In 1533, during the reign of Atahualpa,” he replied pouring his beer into his glass. “What’s fascinating is that Atahualpa said the gods will return and set the earth right. He spoke of the goddess, Pachamama, who’s the mother of Inti. After the Inca converted to Catholicism, she became synonymous with the Virgin Mary.”
The Inca data was interesting, Hart thought. “There’s some semblance to Christianity here, isn’t there?” he said.
“Seems so. It’s strange, isn’t it?”
“It is. By the way, could the Incan new age be the same as the Toltec’s prediction of a new dawn?”
“You’re talking about the civilization that predated the Aztecs?”
“The Toltec left us a stone calendar which doesn’t give dates but depictions. One is of the emergence of a new era.”
“Their leader, Quetzalcoatl, regarded as the feathered serpent, was described by Spanish clerics as St. Thomas. There’s so much that’s fascinating about the continent, it’s hard to deny that gods were here. Inti, by the way, means he who shakes the earth.” Olsen drained his glass and placed it down. “Tom, there’s something I have to tell you and I think the custom came from him.”
Chapter 25
Hart didn’t know of Inca history but he figured what Olsen was about to say might add to his belief that humans harboured a realm. Forces in other realms communicated with them through their realm. His thoughts were running so much he could barely eat.
“What’s the custom?” he asked.
“First of all, Tom, I verified a claim made around the sixteenth century by Blas Valera, a half Spanish, half Inca Jesuit priest. He taught Christianity in Andean terms. Valera wrote a lot about Inca culture and religion but his works were destroyed.”
“Purposely?”
“I believe so.”
“What a pity.”
“He recorded some in Quipu which survived.”
“Smart guy.”
“Valera was eventually incarcerated by the Spanish for his unorthodox, unacceptable teachings.”
“If you consider Pachamama to be the Mother of the god, Inti, and Viracocha his father, then, that would be sort of similar, I suppose.”
“Valera said human sacrifice never happened. The Inca were civilized people. Valera also claimed Atahualpa was a saint.”
“A saint?”
“Atahualpa despised and rejected the Spanish. He was killed for his custom which the Spanish regarded as heresy.”
“And, what was it?”
“He showed how people could venture into an altered state and acquire powers to heal. He showed them how to receive messages.”
“See? There’s a realm in us. Who taught him?”
“Royals were tutored by shamans called Amautas who got it from Inti.”
“Any accounts of what he saw in an altered state?”
“According to one account, he saw a place where rivers flowed through gardens lit like Christmas trees, a kingdom of love and happiness. His ancestors told him his kingdom would end. He knew the Spanish were coming long before they actually did.”
“Fascinating, that’s absolutely remarkable. It’s not easy to enter altered states. Few can. It takes years to achieve it, to open up a new consciousness. How old was Athualpa when he died?”
“Thirty six.”
“He was very young.”
Hart picked up his knife and fork. The stares coming from female diners at a table next to him hadn’t lessened. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Olsen wasn’t bothered one bit.
“The nice lady to the left fancies you,” he said, his eyes twinkling.
“Maybe it’s you. You seem to have the knack for the opposite sex.”
“It’s my legs. It works all the time. You should wear shorts sometimes. You’re always so dressed.”
“By the way, how’s Myrtle doing?”
“Tired of me working all the time, I guess. I’m almost through and I’ll have a lot of time to spend with her. She’s pregnant.”
“What? You’re going to be a father?”
“I guess. I’m twenty-nine and it’s time I laid down some roots.”
Olsen looked as if he was just about to give Hart a lecture on women. Hart certainly didn’t want to hear any of that and neither did he have any desire to mention Jude.
“We must really start looking for the ancient text,” he reminded Olsen again.
“It’s going to be tough. You’re bent on finding it, aren’t you?”
“I have to.”
Olsen wiped his mouth with a napkin and checked the time on his diving watch. It was 1.55 PM.
“We can’t put this off any longer, Tom. I know a great place to start looking.”
Chapter 26
Yale’s School of Divinity Library was miles away in New Haven, Connecticut. It consisted of three major libraries, the Trowbridge, Sneath Memorial and Day Missions. The centre began its operations back in 1919 and grew to be the most important theological centre in the world.
It was past five when they stared at the ground floor of the library and headed to the circulation desk.
“Hi,” they said approaching a stern-faced librarian.
She didn’t immediately answer but stared at them, her eyes scanning the knee length grey coat Hart wore and the antique watch that hung from its lower pocket. Resting on his top pocket were a gold plated Schaeffer pen and a silk handkerchief. Olsen was still in shorts.
“Something I can help you with?” she asked finally, noting urgency in their eyes.
“Problem is we’re not sure of what.”
“You’re not?”
“Maybe we could take a look at the manuscripts of early Christians.”
“Mr. eh?”
“Olsen.”
“Mr. Olsen, we have thousands of references. You can check through the index in the computer room. It’s on your right.”
Two doors down, they entered the compact room. Hart typed ‘Christian Egyptian Era’ on a keyboard and waited.
“Elumine?” he frowned as a site came up.
“It means to illuminate text with gold and silver, Tom. Scroll down.” Halfway along, Olsen spoke again. “Wait a minute. The Monastery of St. Catherine. Might that lead us to something?”
“It dates back to the sixth century and it’s located at the foot of Mount Sinai between the Desert El- Tih and the Gulf of Aqaba.”
“It’s known as the Monastery of Transfiguration. Its chapels and ruins date from the time of Exodus. There’re quite a number icons associated with this monastery. One shows the Prophet Elijah looking at an illuminated Christ. Okay, scroll further.”
“Document, document,” Hart mumbled staring at the screen. “I’m not seeing anything remotely connected to a kingdom within.”
“Maybe we should visit this monastery, Tom.”
“It’s probably just rocks and stones. I’m looking for a manuscript with specific reference to a realm within. I know it exists. A god won’t take an earthly manifestation without leaving guidelines behind.”
“I have a funny feeling they were all destroyed.”
Olsen’s remark didn’t brighten Hart’s day.
“By whom?” he asked.
“The early Christians. Many things were regarded as heresy, particularly matter.”
Turning the computer off, they went back to the desk where the librarian was sitting staring at her notes.
“Hi, we’re looking for the Egyptian Book of the Dead,” Hart said.
She peered through her thick Lens Crafters. “Go to the Special Reading Room on Floor three. Make sure you have your clearance cards with you.”
Soon, their heads were buried in the excerpts of the three thousand year old manuscript.
“The book deals mainly with the afterlife, Olsen.”
“According to it, a deceased enters another world and regains speech and mobility. Once vindicated, he becomes a god. You may be right about humans becoming gods after all.”
“There’s a way to get there, a way to set the mind. Where can we get a text that explains it all?”
“Does scripture exist in books other than the main holy books?”
“It does, Olsen.”
Placing the manuscript away, they headed back to the circulation desk.
“Is there something else that you’re looking for?” The librarian was beginning to wonder what they were up to.
“We’re looking for the hidden gospels,” Hart said.
“They’re in libraries and collections all over the world. We do have snippets of the Gospel of Thomas.”
Hart’s mood darkened. It wasn’t the gospel he was looking for.
“Still look at them,” Olsen advised.
“But, I did, months ago.”
“Look again. This is an original Coptic version.”
Hart headed back to the quiet yet formidable reading room. In less than five minutes, he was peering at five fragments laid out in glass along with their translations. The gospel fragments were of papyrus, etched in an ancient pigment. His eyes moved over each one of them. His allotted time was going very fast, he noted, glancing at the clock on the wall. Still, he was sure he had read it all. But, with thirty seconds remaining, he frowned. His eyes came to rest on five lines in Fragment 1.
“Olsen, look at this,” he said quietly.
“Read it out.” Olsen followed his focus.
“And, the seeker of truth will be astonished.”
“Astonished by what, Tom?”
With ten seconds left, Hart’s eyes hadn’t moved from the lines.
“Come on, Tom, hurry.”
“Before…before…” Hart stopped again. “I can’t believe I missed this.”
“Damn, read it!”
“The seeker of truth will be astonished. Before you come to recognize yourself you must first recognize what is in your sight. Then, what is hidden will become plain to you.”
“That’s astonishing. Are you sure?”
“I’m a hundred percent sure.”
“That’s confirmation of a realm. It may even be in us. You’re damned right, Tom.”
Hart grinned. “Someone in the ancient past must have been a super scientist.”
“This is quite incredible!” Olsen exclaimed exiting the library’s main doorway. “You’re right. Mind and matter are interconnected.”
“Descartes, Aristotle and Plato considered at length the interactions of the mind and matter. Aristotle alluded to the potential of matter to become immaterial but he didn’t get much further. He suggested the mind could exist without the body. Descartes mentioned a third eye, the Pineal Gland. According to Lavaeau, this is the gland that traps radio waves. He goes further to defend another theory, that of our soul occupying a place distinct from the physical world.”
“That’s amazing. A universe may be alive and kicking in us and we don’t know it. That’s quite a force.”
“There’s a realm in us, Olsen, a realm that strengthens the mind.”
A strong wind blew through a thicket of tall trees, past the gothic structures of the Divinity School.
“We have to find out if the realm is really in us, Tom, now that we know it exists. I’m sure a whole lot more had been said in the past.”
“Where would the ancient text be? I recall an ancient poem called The Thunder. The author spoke about a perfect mind that came from incomprehensible silence.”
“We must find that ancient text. A full explanation of everything might be in it.”
Hopping into a taxi, Hart was sombre as the car headed to the airport. Olsen was upbeat.
“I’ve said over and over our limited technology won’t let us find things. We don’t even know if the Milky Way has water, that’s how far behind we really are. I’m sure Bentley can help us find that ancient text.”
“The archaeologist?”
“Yes, call him. He knows lots about ancient books.”
Chapter 27
Hart looked at the fading landscape from the window of his Southwest flight on his way back to New York. He reclined his seat and shut his eyes hoping to catch sleep but he couldn’t. Finding the ancient text preoccupied him. He wondered if he ever would.
Hart had so many thoughts going through his mind that he struggled to contain them all. He knew he had to be careful about bold remarks. Olsen had warned him many times but it was difficult to be quiet about Man’s journey, particularly, his journey to perfection.
Olsen’s revelation of the deity, Inti, having a perfect mind and poem’s reference to it weren’t isolated ones. He had read of it too in Hindu philosophy.
Five thousand years ago, the Hindu God Krishna had made an appearance as an avatar. His teachings of a perfect Yogi fascinated him. A perfect Yogi could be smaller than an atom, larger than a mountain. He could achieve any material effect such as creating a planet, and travel anywhere in the universe.
To achieve such a state, a person had to access super-consciousness within. Lord Krishna indicated the perfect state was the highest form of life available to a human. Muni, a devotee, took years to achieve this state, a feat that only could have been accomplished in the golden era of Satya Yuga because it was a time when humans lived long. No one could achieve it in the dark time of Kali Yuga. The form of yoga prescribed is called Astanga Yoga of which there are eight stages. But, was there a state beyond a perfect state? Lord Krishna said there was. There was direct dictation, direct commands from God.
Hart also recalled Vedantic teachings proclaiming that matter, mind, and God were all one and the same. If only he could find proof of the realm within, he thought again. It would give credence to the notion of human perfection.
He stared at the stratus clouds that stretched for miles in the fading sunset to ease his mind.
Two hours later, he was outside J.F.K.Airport hopping a cab to his Alpine, New Jersey, home. An hour more, and, with his workbag in hand, he began walking to his door.
“You’re Dr. Thomas Hart, aren’t you?” a pas
ser-by approached.
Hart looked at the attractive woman with a Venus De Milo body that matched her good looks. She held her hand out.
“I’m Laurie.”
“How do you know me?” he asked deeply puzzled.
“You’re on all the media channels. Don’t you watch TV?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“PBS reran your discussion of the Inca date. Can Olsen really find it?”
“Yes, he can.”
“Oh! Great! I was fascinated by your talk of dimensions too. Are you looking for God?”
Hart laughed aloud. His response attracted others and the sidewalk was soon filled with people.
“God, you say?” He blurted out much to the woman’s annoyance. “I’m quite sure that’s what I heard.”
“Yes, that’s what I said.” The woman stood firm.
“Hey, give us an answer,” the crowd shouted.
A man of his own thoughts, it never occurred to Hart that people paid attention to anything he might have said. As he summed up the situation, searing eyes rested on him in the late evening air. Unaccustomed to public displays, he wanted to bolt away but didn’t. Hart moved forward and placed an arm around the woman. He spoke gently.
“I’m certainly not looking for God in the sky, my lady. I’m looking for a supernatural presence in creation. Our path is to achieve perfection, to become a god. Our minds can get us there.”
“Are you crazy? Can you prove that?”
“I can and I’m not crazy. Imagine being able to skip through time, to meet people from the past and future.”
“So, where’s hell?”
“You’re looking at it.”
“Whad’you mean?”
“Evil surrounds us. It enters our mind and locks us in hate. ”
With a wave of clapping from the crowd, he moved on. He opened the door to his high security condo and headed to the shower.
It was now 9.50 PM. according to the clock on his bed stand. Half an hour later, he skipped down to his living room and picked up the phone, dialling a number. It was Arthur Bentley’s. He straightened up as he heard the voice on the line.
