How did he get back into the Kiva?
His thoughts clouded by alcohol, Josh the Dill tilted his head as Mal was helping him to get back on his feet.
Wait... Wasn't he walking to the temple to preach and convince some popes to join the King Kong Kabal? How did he get here.
"Fortunately, he is alright" Said the fine Doctor VanMojo, struggling to go down as he was using the ladder.
He then started to explain how he followed Josh, worried that something silly would happen to him as he seemed to be fairly drunk.
Meanwhile, Josh was trying to explain to a puzzled Peter Krystal what was the Goddess plans. The poor Krystal was trying to politely get out of range of the infamous alcoholic breath of the old man.
But little by little, their volubility ran dry. The kiva and Mal's presence were acting once again and the two old popes finally assumed Zazen, keeping their mouths shut and allowing Mal to finally talk.
After some time, the Episkopos gave to Peter 'Never Whistle While You're Pissing' and the two popes observed him read.
Mal was glancing at them meanwhile. Josh and VanMojo understood they had to prove they did their bloody 'homework'.
Gathering his thoughts, Josh the Dill closed his eyes.
Shortly after, the popes could hear a somehow noisy snore....
+++++
Josh was standing in the middle of a black chaosphere painted on the ground.
Forming a pentacle, five persons were surrounding him.
Quite confused, the old man looked alternately at them. "I'm Captain Yossarian" Said one of them. "I'm the great gourou Bokonon" said another. "I'm King Kong" said one of them with a sonorous voice. "Gentlefolk. My name is Don Quichotte" said another one. "Dear subject.." Said the last one, nodding to him "My name is Joshua Norton. But you may call me 'Your Imperial Majesty Emperor Norton I'"
Josh gazed at each one of them during those introductions, a bit puzzled.
He knew those names... But he couldn't remember from where.
Where they the dock workers of '11?
"We find you scratching your noodles. Why is that?" said the fine gourou.
Josh vaguely mumbled something unintelligible. "Is that so?" replied the Bokonon. "You don't know, Josh the Dill of the King Kong Kabal?"
Josh was still to guess if he was dreaming or if that was some hallucination.
Or was it some prank Mal was doing to him?
Noticing his uncertainty, Bokonon nodded "When one doesn't know, his mind is open to every wave. That is a good start" "Shall we?" approved King Kong.
"What will you do?" Asked Josh, looking around suspiciously. "We? Nothing" whispered the Don. "We are there because you want us to be there." "You wish to help me?" said Josh, perplexed.
The captain Yossarian nodded, studying the old man "Where do you think you are, soldier?"
Josh shook his head "Where?" "Isn't it obvious? You are currently on gnostic state. The Inhibitory form, i may add"
Josh took some time to accept the fact and decided to move on. What was the meaning of this? Was there even one? "This world is such a wide world! Why then do you answer to a temple bell and don ceremonial robes?"
The old man looked at the Kong. He got it. They were talking using koans. He decided to sit on the chaosphere. Lowering the speed of his breathing, he attempted to not think. "However wonderful a thing is, it may be that it is better not to have it at all." whispered King Kong.
The Gourou Bokonon talked softly : "When one goes to Obaku temple in Kyoto he sees carved over the gate the words "The First Principle". The letters are unusually large, and those who appreciate calligraphy always admire them as being a mastepiece. They were drawn by Kosen two hundred years ago.
When the master drew them he did so on paper, from which the workmen made the large carving in wood. As Kosen sketched the letters a bold pupil was with him who had made several gallons of ink for the calligraphy and who never failed to criticize his master's work.
"That is not good," he told Kosen after his first effort.
"How is this one?"
"Poor. Worse than before," pronounced the pupil.
Kosen patiently wrote one sheet after another until eighty-four First Principles had accumulated, still without the approval of the pupil.
Then when the young man stepped outside for a few moments, Kosen thought: "Now this is my chance to escape his keen eye," and he wrote hurriedly, with a mind free from distraction: "The First Principle."
"A masterpiece," pronounced the pupil."
Josh nodded.
Don Quichotte then talked : "Nan-in received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.
Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor's cup full, and then kept on pouring.
The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself. "It is overfull. No more will go in!"
"Like this cup," Nan-in said, "you are full of your own opinions and speculations. How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?""
Josh nodded again and closed his eyes.
Joshua Norton then said : "Daiju visited the master Baso.
Baso asked: "What do you seek?"
"Enlightenment," replied Daiju.
"You have your own treasure house. Why do you search outside?" Baso asked.
Daiju inquired: "Where is my treasure house?"
Baso answered: "What you are asking is your treasure house."
Daiju was enlightened! Ever after he urged his friends: "Open your own treasure house and use those treasures.""
Josh pouted slightly.
It was then Captain Yossarian's turn : "When Banzan was walking through a market he overheard a conversation between a butcher and his customer.
"Give me the best piece of meat you have," said the customer.
"Everything in my shop is the best," replied the butcher. "You cannot find here any piece of meat that is not the best."
At these words Banzan became enlightened. "
Josh looked quite confused already, obviously.
King Kong finished it : ""Our schoolmaster used to take a nap every afternoon," related a disciple of Soyen Shaku. "We children asked him why he did it and he told us: 'I go to dreamland to meet the old sages just as Confucius did.' When Confucius slept, he would dream of ancient sages and later tell his followers about them.
"It was extremely hot one day so some of us took a nap. Our schoolmaster scolded us. 'We went to dreamland to meet the ancient sages the same as Confucius did,' we explained. 'What was the message from those sages?' our schoolmaster demanded. One of us replied: 'We went to dreamland and met the sages and asked them if our schoolmaster came there every afternoon, but they said they had never seen any such fellow.'" "
"Do you know?" Said they all.
King Kong then walked towards Josh and slapped him quite rudely.
+++++
"Hmmmm" Said a sleepy voice.
Josh opened his eyes and looked around him, a bit embarrassed.
He was still in the Kiva... Krystal was still reading...
Josh then noticed Mal was staring at him quite intensely, the expression of his face indecipherable.
The "Veil" lifted as Josh's five "visitors" departed into the midst, King Kong scratching his hairy behind in a gesture of farewell.
Mal considered the befuddled Pope before breaking into a benevolent smile.
"Pope Josh, what a marvelous head you have to contain five such wise and caring advisors! Why would you bemoan not hearing the voice of Eris when you have five of Her beloved Saints to guide you?"
Josh the Dill jumped as if an electric shock had been administered, his eyes widening. "But how...?"
"A wise anthropologist and psychonaut once said 'There is no great accomplishment in hearing voices in your head. The accomplishment is to know if they are telling you the truth.' In this instance, I tend to believe that the voices you hear are telling you the truth, and will serve to guide you."
"Here is what you must do. Go to my Retreat at Geode center, and remain there for five days. On the first day, call forth your first advisor. Become intimate with him. Talk about the weather. Learn his form and voice intimately, until you can recall his visage any time you require advice. Repeat the exercise with each of your "guides" on the following days."
Mal hesitated. Eventually, Josh would come to realize that his "guides" were simply different "selves", processing information in slightly different ways; but today was not the day for that specific lesson.
"At the end of five days, you will know the truth, and your path will be clear. Personally, I kinda think the hairy one wants his Kabal back, and the other four are just tickled to be along for the ride. Ultimately, Pope Josh, you must interpret the messages from your guides, and decide your own course. I have faith that your decision will be the right one."
Satisfied that Josh had understood his instructions, Mal turned to the Doctor. "Pope Mojo, has your donkey decided to move forward?"
VanMojo looked at Josh, at the Episkopos, and then back at Josh the dill, perplexed.
What did just happen?
Josh the dill was nodding, his mind still a bit elsewhere.
He wasn't accustomed to dream that way. Not anymore since the kabal was destroyed.
Was it a sign? He needed to stay alone a bit to think about this all.
For now, he remained silent and smiled timidly at Mal and at VanMojo.
"Hmmm..." The fine doctor VanMojo grinned. "That wasn't a good idea to drink all that scotch Josh"
He patted on Josh's shoulder with a patronizing smile.
Josh was confused. Didn't he see what happened?
But the old man remembered. Everyone has its own way to hear, see and feel.
The question was... What would VanMojo see? In what way would it be different?
That sounded like a fascinating topic and despite his wish to leave the Kiva to stay alone with his thoughts, he decided to stay a bit to witness what would follow.
The good doctor VanMojo switched to Mal, who was patiently waiting the old pope to finally go ahead.
He was still quite confused about all that 'donkey' thing.
After all, the Appendix didn't talk about any donkey face. Or.. Did he pay enough attention...? "Ermm...." He whispered, giving a side look at an absent-minded Josh as if he needed some support "Why has my donkey stopped running....Why has it balked, knowing that another race awaits.... and what must I whisper in my donkey's ear to calm its' fears... Hmmm...."
"There is many ways to interpret this, pope VanMojo" said a feminine voice coming from the ceiling.
A woman in robe was gazing at them from the entry of the Kiva. She smiled.
"First, consider the symbols.... The Donkey was known as a symbol of ignorance. It was also a symbol of Dyonisus... Then... If you really dig it..." The mid-fourties woman rolled her eyes while smiling and started to go down using the ladder.
She kept talking as she was doing so : "The donkey was used in many paradoxal thesis. For example! There is this tale about the 'Messiah's donkey' concerning the paradox between secular and religious powers in a leadership... And then... I'm sure you heard about that scholar case known as the 'Buridan's ass dilema'... Didn't you?"
She jumped from the ladder and turned around. The woman bowed ceremonially and then laughed loudly when she saw VanMojo's face. "If you could see your face right now, dear VanMojo..."
Ignoring Mal's insistent gaze, she walked around the kiva, caressing the walls.
While walking around, doing five laps, she talked again. "Interesting. Interesting! Oh where was i anyway? Ah yes... We could also consider that tale about a 'donkey who didn't care about escaping, because one way or another he would continue working hard', is it?"
VanMojo was looking at that woman, and then at Mal, whose expression was indecipherable as usual. The Episkopos was staring at the woman, without blinking.
"Now let's talk about the meaning... There is two interpretations... The donkey is the universe, and the donkey is your mind."
She smiled "And if you think about it, they aren't as diametrically opposed as it would seem. There is many universes. There is one universe."
She stopped and turned around to look at VanMojo "Not helping much?" She pouted then smiled softly "I see i see!"
The woman sat near the Hearth and put down her hood.
"W-Who are you?" Said VanMojo, quite puzzled.
She smiled once again "Ahhhh.... Names... The power they are holding... What would you do if that wise one's name" she pointed at Mal, smiling teasingly "wasn't Malaclypse the third?"
Chuckling, she finally said "But... You asked... I answer : I'm KSC. Mnemosym, my fine doctor."
She then leaned forward and whispered to VanMojo "Say say! Did it even come to your mind there wasn't three answers to give, but two questions to find?"
The woman laughed and then looked innocently at Mal, as if she was noticing him only now. "What?" She said grinning, answering to his stare "I can't visit an old friend?"
She then smiled mischievously "Or are women forbidden in your alcove, Episkopos Prime?"
Peter Kristall groaned softly, twisting a bit on the bench, then awoke with a gasp, drenched in sweat - not from his dream, but from the sultry air in the Kiva. He groaned, pulling himself into a sitting position.
"Whew. Bit of a wild ride. Mal, don't suppose you have any water down here...?" The young pope frowned. He very rarely remembered his dreams, but snatches of this one still impinged on his consciousness - one of them, a memory of a -very- old recording which had been his favorite for about a month in his childhood, caught him and wouldn't let him go. Particularly because, in the dream, -he- had been the character in the recording...
"Hey Mal...d'you suppose Peter Pan would make a good Discordian?"
Malaclypse "the 3rd" rose and bowed to the woman. As he responded, he began his own circuit of the Kiva, walking widdershins to counteract the five deosil circuits that Mnemosyn had created. Balance. Always balance.
"To answer your question, fair Mnemosyn, sweat lodges were traditionally segregated in early Amerindian cultures; especially those where the Elders sought spiritual contact with their "guides".
He began the second circuit, feeling the bipolarity caused by the woman's presence relax as he continued:
"In later times, women were allowed to enter the lodge for those 'lesser' ceremonies concerned with purifying the body and clearing the mind. They were excluded only during their monthly 'fertile' periods.
"These restrictions were not made because females were thought to be inferior or 'unclean'. Females were revered as healers. Many became tribal shamans, as they were more attuned to the Earth spirits than their male counterparts, especially during the time of their 'menses'."
Mal completed the fifth circuit of the Kiva, keenly aware of Mnemosyn's gaze. He knew that her intentions were well-meaning; but the old addage of 'too many cooks spoil the broth' applied in this situation. He returned to za-zen, facing the others.
"You are indeed welcome here, my Lady. We have much to discuss. However, your arrival is ill-timed, and our own discussions must wait." He turned his gaze towards Van Mojo. "There is another famous donkey which Mnemosyn has neglected to mention:
"The great and venerable Sufi sage, Mullah Nasrudin, once raced through Bagdad on his donkey, galloping as fast as the poor beast could travel. Everybody got excited, and people rushed into the streets to find out why the philosopher was in such a great hurry.
"'What are you looking for, Mullah?' someone shouted. 'I'm looking for my donkey!' Nasrudin answered.
"Nasrudin was fond of acting out his parables. In this case, he was merely dramatizing a common error made by 'seekers'. We look for the Secret, the Philosopher's Stone, the Elixer of Wisdom, in all directions, and all the time, it is carrying us about! It is the human nervous system itself, the marvelous instrument through which we create order out of chaos, science out of ignorance, meaning out of mystery, and this supposedly 'solid' Kiva out of whirling energies.
"Pope Van Mojo, you donkey has balked because it has forgotten what it is, and what its purpose is. It must simply be reminded. Once it has remembered, the 'race' will continue."
Mal rose, and once again bowed to Mnemosyn. He held out his hands to Josh and Van Mojo.
Peter seemed in better shape now that he had re-hydrated. In fact the two of them had just returned from a stealthy visit to the biodome, where they had let fly into some convenient shrubberies. They had climbed back down into the Kiva, and were again seated, facing each other.
"Peter, I can't begin to describe how fortunate you are, lad."
"Why, Mal? Because I dreamed about an old childhood memory?" asked the young Pope.
"Ah, that is the least of it, sir." Mal continued.
"I will eschew any mention of the obvious 'reasons' for seeing what you saw. Childhood memories, the similarity of names, or the so-called 'syndrome' that pyschologists have associated with your vision.
"What is most significant is that you've received signals from one of the oldest Archetypes in the human psyche, Peter. Whether your 'dream-self' is known as 'Peter Pan', a 'leprechaun', 'Mescalito', the god of the peyote cactus, Kokopeli the Trickster, or 'First Officer Spock', your greenish-tinged, pointy-eared visitor has been a frequent visitor throughout our species' history.
"Also significant is that he usually appears to those who are searching for a new path.. those who are at a point of 'peak imprint vulnerability', as Saint Timothy used to say."
Peter nodded. Mal surmised that the bright young Pope was familiar with the works of the Bard Wilson, and had grokked all the references he had alluded to. Satisfied, he continued.
"Now, there will be arguments until the end of time as to whether your 'visitor' is some unknown telepathic intelligence, whether he is a construct of humanity's collective unconsciousness, or whether he is simply one of the countless aspects of 'self', which rises to the surface of consciousness in dreams or visions when needed.
"Would Peter Pan make a good Discordian?" Mal smiled broadly. "He could very well BE the Goddess in 'mufti', Peter.
"This is what I believe. You are ripe for change, my friend. You are now in contact with an ancient and powerful guide, and the synchronicity evident in his appearance is an incredibly good omen for you.
"Invoke him often. Listen well. As we enter the period of Verwirrung, I believe your new path will become clear to you. Whether Pan chose Peter, or Peter chose Pan, or whether they are 'one and the same', I can not imagine a better companion."
The new fire pit worked perfectly. The little red crystals from the new "glory hole" CSR had discovered possessed incredible exothermic properties when excited with the right resonant frequency.
Now, if he could only find some endothermic specimens to insulate his beer cooler.....
A middle aged man entered the corridor of the station, seeking thy holy ladder. His looks were those of someone you find smoking a joint in Luxury Liner Hawaii. His eyes were rapidly absorbing all the information that Pueblo offers at first glance. He was amused with everything he saw. But he didn't want to make the Episkopos impatient, so he forgot about the looks of the place for a moment and focused his pineal into the search for the ladder. After a hard headache and some too many teardrops from pressing the eyes too much, he managed to grab to the ladder and started climbing.
As he entered the room he thought it resembled a mother's womb, and felt the introspective ambient. It would do just fine for the job. He soon recognized the man playing with the fire as the Malaclypse he once briefly met, but always remembered. He couldnt help but feel moved and in a stupid voice he said:
Excuse me Sir, but I think there must be a misunderstanding, I am pretty sure I was the one who reserved this room.
He then smiled with an unlit cigarrete in his mouth while he took off his hat.
"Well now, if it isn't our new Acolyte and resident muckraker, Brother Skripto! Pull up a bench, sir."
The Journalist cum Discordian looked around at the stone benches firmly attached to the Kiva's walls. Skripto's eyes widened briefly, but he made a swift recovery. "Umm, yas, Mal. I work better lying down, actually.."
True to his word, the fellow was soon lying prone on the Kiva's floor, squinting off into the distance.
"You seem to know me, sir," Mal continued, "but we will put aside that mystery for the nonce.
"Begin your interview, Acolyte Skripto. Would you like a straw for your beer?"
The floor seemed to be more comfy, anyways. And since they were drinking already - Straws? Ye ill have three or five thanks. - Malaclypse extends his hand and one single straw appears suddenly from each of his fingers, he smiles.
Gyp then took an old fashioned computer from a backpack and deployed everything he needed o the Kiva's floor - Well my dear Mal, as you said, let's leave the matter of our aquaintance for the proper moment. Both of us are anxious to begin with the interview, so let's do it.
He now straightens to write more comfortably, while he sips beer.
Much time has passed since good old Lightfoot was delivered with the message of Godess. What can you tell us about the change from the person you where back then, to the Episkopos Prime you then became?
And what about the Malaclypse you are today? Have you regained some of your "lightfoot" character or are you more discordian than ever?
Also, what about the Erisian Liberation Front? Compared to TAZ, and according to what I dug up, they seemed quite more "outlawish". Is this because you changed your means or did you change your objectives?