Vibrations harmonic magi.., p.2

Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1, page 2

 

Vibrations: Harmonic Magic Book 1
 



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  “Vibrations,” the man started, “were manipulated and used by ancient societies to do wondrous things.” The man’s animated style held Sam captive. His passion and excitement for his subject was obvious, and contagious.

  “Imagine, if you will, ancient people tasked with building great structures, structures that must last for centuries. With not even simple machines, how would they move the great stone blocks into place? How indeed!” The man strode across the narrow stage, his voice clear even though he was not in front of the microphone.

  “These ancient people, arguably knowing more about wave theory and quantum mechanics than we ourselves did until very recently, were able to change the vibration of solid stone. They were able to make a large portion of the stone phase out, go somewhere else, causing the remaining stone to be light enough to move.”

  He waved his arms as he stalked the stage, his voice rising in intensity and excitement. “Yes, they could do this, with musical instruments, drums and simple flutes and the like. It was in this way that the great structures of the past were built. But that’s not all. They used vibratory energy for other things, some even more miraculous.”

  There was much the man said after that, things that were too technical for Sam’s twelve year old, untrained brain to decipher, but one basic tenet stuck with Sam. “All matter, which is constantly moving at an atomic level, is very close to vibrating at the speed of light. With just a little push, that matter could convert to a form that was basically energy, phasing into a different plane, or dimension.”

  Some modern experiments seemed to confirm this, but in general the scientific community did not want to profess belief in something that seemed so akin to wizardry.

  Sam left the the symposium thinking about what he had heard. He also thought about how many in the audience had heckled and ridiculed the poor, shaggy man. In fact, the man had gathered his materials and rushed out of the lecture hall to escape the jeers and laughter that were pursuing him. With the information and experience securely tucked away in the recesses of his mind, Sam went about his life without thinking too much on the subject for years.

  Today, though, he thought about that speech and it got his mind whirling in many different directions. When he finished his chores and cleaned up, he decided it was a good time for a little meditation before he had to go to work for his swing shift.

  Sam looked around his sparsely furnished little house and smiled at the eclectic collection of books, pamphlets, manuscripts, and scrolls he had collected. In his constant search for answers, or sometimes questions, he had dabbled in many different fields of knowledge, all of which he loved. In fact, he had never met a field of study that he didn’t want to pursue further. Recently, he had been studying many of the characteristically eastern subjects such as yoga, meditation, and, of course the requisite bodily exercise, including several types of martial arts. He was by no means proficient in the physical aspect of these systems, but training his body to do new things allowed him to become more in touch with it, which helped in his meditation.

  Sam had tried several methods of meditation and had devised his own hybrid style that worked for him. It was not purely of one system, but was something that felt right. Recently, he had been able to achieve a state of such utter tranquility that he loathed letting it end, only to be returned to the same old humdrum world and its boring reality. In fact, so passionate was he about his new hobby, he set aside one of the three rooms in the house as his meditation room.

  The meditation room was small, but that was all right. Containing only a thick woven rug of indeterminate far eastern origin, a lamp that could be dimmed, a small table on which he could place tea or incense, and bamboo scrolls on the wall depicting peaceful mountain landscapes and seascapes, it was simple but ideal. The room fairly radiated tranquility and just entering the room and standing in it made Sam feel at ease.

  Adding to the room’s peaceful feeling was an item placed directly in the center of the little table. The small metal statue was in the form of a man with his legs crossed and with his hands resting lightly in his lap. The little man’s eyes were closed, with a look of complete serenity on his face. Sam didn’t even remember where he had gotten the statue—he’d had it for as long as he could remember—but he did know that it always made him feel good when he looked at it. When searching for some kind of focal point to use for his meditation, it was the obvious choice. He rubbed the little man’s bald head for luck and smiled.

  His watch showed almost 11:00 in the morning. Sam had decided he would meditate for an hour or so before going to work that evening. It always helped to do so before swing shift so that he could wash away the stresses of the day and go to work energized and calm. He closed the door and settled into his loose cross-legged position. The memory of that symposium from so many years ago suddenly popped into his head. A slow smile eased onto his face for a moment as he was reminiscing. Regaining his focus, he began to clear his mind as he always did in preparation to meditate.

  Sam slowed his breathing into a regular pattern, visualizing pure, cleansing air entering his body and lazily making its way down toward the center of his energy just below his navel, only to diffuse into his body from that central point. As he exhaled, he visualized the soot-colored “bad” air with all its stresses, toxins, and worries migrate up through his chest and throat to be expelled from his body through his mouth.

  Breathing in and out at slow, regular intervals, he purposely targeted individual areas of his body and relaxed them, working slowly from his toes to the top of his head. He soon achieved the familiar light-headed feeling of peace, but an unwanted thought intruded. Instead of rejecting it right away, he pondered it for a moment and decided the time was right to experiment a little bit. Which brought him to where he was now, in a strange forest in an unknown location.

  Sam realized that his panic and frustration were counterproductive. He straightened his back, crossed his legs where he was on his front porch and began to breathe rhythmically. He focused on the core of his energy, the center of his life force. The picture of the little statue in his mind caused calm to flow through him in a warm wave. With a few minutes of calming breaths, he felt better able to address his situation. His eyes slowly opened, taking in the surroundings anew.

  The landscape was beautiful. Breathtaking, in fact. Sam stood and turned in a slow circle to take in all of the scenery. He noted that there was vegetation as far as he could see, with mountains on one side peeking out above the treetops, breaking up the vast green canopy before him. Sounds of small living things assaulted his ears now that he was paying attention to them. Other than that, though, it was very quiet. There was no road noise, no people talking, no generators, compressors, or other signs of technology buzzing in the background. It was almost frightening. He had never realized how pervasive the sound of modern living was.

  From the corner of his eye, Sam caught the slight motion of a trembling bush. The weak breeze was not enough to move the foliage as it was moving. He felt some force or intuition drawing his attention there. It seemed to radiate some kind of warmth that went straight to his brain. Going within himself, as he did when he meditated, he projected his mind, his imagination, toward the bush and was surprised when he was able to discern life within it. He narrowed his focus to be more receptive. Images of food, small furred figures that emanated warmth, and larger shapes with long teeth that caused his skin to prickle with goose bumps entered his mind.

  Intuitively, he projected his thoughts in the form of other images, ones of himself in an elongated form, as if viewed from ground level looking upward. Along with these, he projected a feeling of warmth, compassion, and comfort. Then he waited.

  After several minutes, a small, brown furry face poked out of the bush, looked to the left and the right, then looked directly at him. As its eyes met his, the creature’s widened and the face retreated back into the bush. Several seconds later, it emerged again, this time followed by a short round body covere
d entirely in brown fur with a thin tail that looked somewhat like a bottle-brush. At first, Sam thought it may have been a large beaver, but the tail and face were all wrong. He decided that it looked more like a lemur than a beaver, but he knew that was not correct either.

  The creature’s little face was whiskered and wise-looking while at the same time being filled with the wonder of innocence. Its small teeth looked better suited to fruit than meat, Sam was happy to see. Large, luminous green eyes, which were still wide in trepidation were oddly without pupils. As the little creature padded over on raccoon-like paws, Sam noticed its furry round ears twitching. Looking into those eyes, Sam could see intelligence.

  While the the little figure was scampering toward him, he remained perfectly still so as not to frighten it. The creature, shaking visibly, approached him, stopping mere inches from his foot. Bending slowly, Sam leaned over and offered his hand to the furry head. Because it seemed right to do so, he concentrated on sending comforting thoughts to the strange animal to make sure it didn’t become frightened.

  Sniffing his hand, the little creature seemed to make up its mind and immediately presented the top of its head, pushing it against Sam’s hand. Taking this as his cue, Sam lightly petted its furry head, scratching its ears briefly. The friendship being sealed, the little animal curled up at his feet and closed its eyes. Calm, comfortable feelings floated from the animal into his mind. It seemed that he had made a friend in this strange world. A good start, he thought to himself.

  “What will I call you?” Sam said to the creature. It looked up at him, blinked its large green eyes, closed them slowly, and put its head back down. Feelings of comfort seeped into Sam’s mind. Well, no help there..

  Thinking of how the little creature skipped across the forest and clearing floor when it came to him, he had an idea. “Skitter,” he said. “How about I call you Skitter?” As he said this, he sent images of the creature itself skittering across the ground, coming toward Sam.

  The creature looked up again, narrowed its expressive eyes in thought, and then clucked contentedly, all the while sending Sam feelings of agreement…and something else. Was that humor? Shaking his head, he petted the creature gently. “Skitter it is. I’m Sam. Nice to meet you.” But Skitter was already dozing, emanating feelings of safety and contentment.

  After sitting and petting the napping creature for as long as it took him to recount his experiences in the last—how long was it? Three hours, according to his watch—he made a decision. Projecting images of home to his little companion, he stood. Skitter, obviously understanding his sendings, chittered softly and bounded into the vegetation. Sam watched his new friend disappear and then turned to go back into his house. He had decided on his course of action and now all that remained was to try out his theory.

  He went inside and seated himself comfortably in his meditation room again, slipped easily into a regular breathing pattern, and felt the familiar calm settle over him. Again visualizing the single atom, he progressed through the same process as earlier, doing so more quickly because of his newfound familiarity with it. When he neared the point at which his entire body was vibrating, he modified his oscillations to match those he had started with earlier in the day. Control felt easier than the first time, and when he felt that the oscillations were correct, he felt a slight lurch and opened his eyes.

  Sam rushed out the door, through the house, and into the street. He was pleasantly surprised that his neighborhood was back, complete with neighbors walking and children playing. Nodding his head slightly, he resolved to continue experimenting with this new experience after he finished with his work shift.

  His work shift! Sam hated being late, but he had spent hours on his journey. His watch displayed the time like an accusation. It was nearly 3:00 PM. His shift started at 3:00! He sprinted to his bedroom and began changing clothes quickly when he noticed the clock on his nightstand. It displayed the time as 10:59 AM. Puzzled, he picked up his cell phone from the dresser and checked the time. Scratching his head, he realized that the clock was correct; it was only now turning 11:00 AM. Apparently the time spent in that other place, wherever that was, didn’t take any time from this place, though he was there for hours. For a moment, he thought that he had gone insane. He shook his head again, wondering at the implications, and then set about eating and preparing to go to work, resolved to unravel this great mystery into which he had landed himself.

  *****

  Skitter was afraid when he first saw the creature. Though it did not look like the great shaggy four-legged animals that hunted him and the rest of his community, it was rather large and scary. How did it balance on only two appendages that way?

  “Skitter” was not his name, of course. Citizens had no need of names when they could communicate directly, mind to mind, with pictures and feelings that were more accurate than any words could be. Even the term “words” was confusing to Skitter. When the term came unbidden to his mind during the connection with the strange creature (the descriptor “man” was in his mind from the contact), it did not make sense. Even the label “Citizen” was something taken from the man’s mind and not something he had ever thought of before. It seemed to fit, though. He was a member of his group, his “community” (another word from the man), and the word seemed to indicate the free flow of cooperative efforts carried out in the community. Words. What an interesting concept.

  Pictures of lines on a thin material made from trees flashed through his mind, but along with it, the idea of a means of communication, obviously crude, was connected. Skitter had seen scratchings on stone that looked similar, but had no way of determining if the markings were related. It mattered little, he supposed.

  It surprised Skitter when the large object suddenly appeared in the forest. He had been looking in the other direction searching for the succulent roots he loved so much, and when he turned around, the object was there, blocking out some of the sunlight. It was frightening!

  Even more surprising was when he felt his mind being filled with images. He looked around for the presence of another Citizen, but there were none near. The images were coming from the man! The communication was crude, such as a very young Citizen would use, but it had the intended result: Skitter saw that the man did not mean him any harm.

  On top of the surprise of the communication itself was that Skitter could see and understand things that he never would have otherwise, just by letting memories and knowledge from the man flow into his mind. In this way, he not only learned the difficult concept of “words” or “labels,” but he saw a bit of what the man knew of the world. What was this place in his memories, a place with hard, flat strips on the ground, towering structures, and more of the huge, two-legged creatures than he would have thought the world could contain?

  As the man tried in his crude way to send feelings of safety and comfort, Skitter read in his inferior mind that he really did not mean any harm. Had he meant “deception,” a term at first unfamiliar to the Citizen, Skitter would have known. So, he ambled up to the man and mimicked the memories of “pets” he saw in the man’s mind, just to make sure the man did not get scared in his dealings with a superior species.

  It seemed to work. The man allowed Skitter to snuffle his hand (what is that action for, anyway?) and then was pleased when the Citizen lay down at the man’s feet. Sending crude messages of contentment, the man started to stroke the fur on Skitter’s head and ears. Surprisingly, it felt good, and he found that his eyes were growing heavy. Content, he lowered his head, closed his eyes, and napped.

  When the man squeaked and screeched at him, Skitter was not sure at first what it was doing. Picking up stray thoughts from the man’s mind, though, he deduced that the sounds indicated the way the man communicated. He caught the meaning from the man’s thoughts: he wanted to “name” him. The images of Skitter making his way across the clearing were comical and obviously skewed according to the man’s viewpoint. Could the man not see the perfect mix of grace and caution
with which Skitter moved?

  “Skitter” was the name the man came up with. It was a descriptive term for how the Citizen moved, at least in the man’s perspective. When Skitter detected that the man was asking him a question, he sent an affirmative thought, finding it entertaining and humorous that the crude creature had to put a label on him. Sarcastically (another great word from the man’s mind) chittering and clucking to mock the man’s sounds, Skitter smirked and laughed inwardly. This strange creature was adorable in its simplicity.

  Soon, the man sent more crude images, this time of feelings of home. Skitter realized that the man wanted Skitter to go home for some reason. Perhaps he was going to do something dangerous with that large, unwieldy body of his. Looking up at “Sam”—that was the label the man gave himself—he got up and smoothly and gracefully made his way back into the covering of the bushes.

  Skitter watched with curiosity as the odd creature went back into its den. He had never seen, let alone met, a creature such as that, but admittedly, Skitter’s experience was limited to his small colony of Citizens.

  What really excited Skitter—yes, he would keep the label because it was interesting to him; he’d never had a “nickname,” or any name at all, for that matter—was that he had communicated with the man. The communication was crude, but it held promise of improvement with practice. The Citizen desired to communicate with the man again and looked forward to doing so.

  While thinking on this, watching from the safety of the low-lying vegetation in which he was hunkering, the man’s den suddenly disappeared. No, not suddenly. Skitter detected a slight vibration, a shimmer, just before the entire den disappeared. Very interesting. Skitter hoped the man would return. He would like to learn more about this primitive creature.

 

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