The Doorway of No Return

This was written in response to a prompt in my writing group Thursday:

A doorway of no return…..

I have also been thinking of the superior philosophy brought to my attention by Vivekananda: “You are all children of bliss!”

How much better to believe this than the horrible sickness of the belief of original sin perpetrated on the West by Augustine, a lie that Jesus never taught, and before him, that the Jews never believed.

I have been wanting to let my fictional wise woman, Merwegon, who I invented for my currently failed “Moses of Kosbar” science fiction book, share more wisdom with us through the channels of my keyboard and prepared mind. Merwegon and her people are beings with two arms, two legs, two wings, who have a whole body language. Sounds for communication come through their mouths, noses, and special tubes on the sides of their heads, and these sounds are supplemented by waves of their wing tips.

Not so strange. Humans do the same thing. When traveling in Italy years ago, it hit me that everyone on the bus must be deaf, as there was so much expressive hand waving, I thought, at first, that they were all using sign language.

Merwegon Says:

Every doorway is a doorway of no return. As you can’t step twice in the same river, you can’t come back through the door you entered. This is self evident truth. If you think about it, you will see that first of all, the you that walked through the door has breathed and assimilated new air molecules, and some of your feather tips have broken away. Perhaps more importantly, either new neural connections are forming in your brain, or old ones are becoming more persistent. Even with neither action nor inaction on your part, the waves of your thoughts, emotions, and actions are ever spreading out from you, as those of every other center of consciousness spreads out from it. Each of us thus affects each other of us. These waves of consciousness affect beings regardless of their level or type of consciousness. The rock affects me as I affect the rock. What bliss it is to know this. It is the foundation for the ultimate understanding of our true place in the multiverse.

Some say the paths of the planets, moons, even stars and galaxies were set by mindless action, on random paths. I say no, I don’t believe so. Usually I, Merwegon, refrain from using the word believe. I prefer to think about things before I flap my communication outlets. Then I can say I think. If it’s only a feeling, I try to keep it to myself. In other words, until I have subjected the content of the impending communication to epistemological scrutiny, I refrain from intentional broadcasting.

Should someone be exceedingly interested in my thoughts, they may simply tune in to the waves of the Akashic Record, and read for themselves. If they haven’t yet developed that skill to such a degree, they have no business knowing my personal thoughts or feelings.

As I was saying, I don’t believe that the planets, moons, stars and galaxies were set by mindless action, on random paths. No. These planets, moons, stars and galaxies have sought out an intermediate stable motion state, on their way from outward impetus given them by The Big Bang, toward the first Black Hole they encounter a gravity pull from. Here’s where the science ends and I am forced to admit my belief. That Black Holes may be worm holes into a new Universe. Our scientists refuse to acknowledge that possibility, even though surely there’s nothing telling us it is impossible, and it would explain a lot of things, were it true.

The real reason that scientists have any foundation on which to stand when stating that all supposedly dead matter is mindless, is to ensure that we don’t have answers to every question. For it is the unanswered questions that drive us to continue to seek.

The Wisest of Souls

“You’re ugly,” Jackie said to the small frog, as he picked it up and put it in his pocket.

“And you’ll do just great!” he mused, to the frog, now cozily riding in the darkness.


The table was set. The crystal glistened and the silver shone. Mother and Father sat at the ends of the table. Joan and her latest boyfriend sat across from Jackie and his little sister.

In preparation to serve, Martha uncovered the plate, and let out a shriek.

Jackie smiled as he noted the look of disapproval on the boyfriend’s face. Why his sister couldn’t see those gold diggers for who they were, he’d never understand. What harm could a little frog do? This frog in fact deserved a medal.

But Jackie, wise for his years, decided to let the frog return to her natural habitat.

Joan glared at Jackie. That smirk had told her all she needed to know about the perpetrator of this latest small crime, one of a string calculated by her younger brother to disrupt her chances of getting our from under the sway of their parents’ ways.

Jackie continued his smirk, which slowly morphed into a serious look of superiority. “You’ll thank me when you are 45,” he told his sister. “You’ll thank me.”

Joan continued her glare, then shook her head and reached out to touch the boyfriend’s arm. A little reassurance, she thought. Maybe there’s still hope. Maybe.

Mother nodded to Martha, a signal to finish serving the dinner. The aroma of the roasted birds was wafting its way to all of their noses. Golden roasted birds, a small heap of skinny green beans, and a mound of shredded carrots graced each plate.

Jacob walked around the table, filling the wine glasses. Of course Jackie and his little sister got theirs watered down.

But the boyfriend was still not looking pleased. Jackie’s smirk returned. He couldn’t help it. Wisdom in an eight year old was of course not fully developed, even in the wisest of reincarnated souls.