Part Eleven of The Unseen Sea
“You didn’t listen–you never listen!”
Maria is angry. Grandad Lucca has seen it many times. Recent events have, of course, made things worse. Maria has opened the gates and it floods at her father, the only other person in the house.
“It’s not much to ask – just don’t fill her little head with all this mystical stuff!”
Grandad Lucca nods, letting the anger flow from his beloved daughter without resistance on his part. He waits, one hand cupped in the other, while the rage is vented, knowing how it ends. He does not deflect the emotion. He listens into its flow, knowing that, although the state of presence in which the truth lives is difficult to maintain in the face of such powerful emotions, it will help Maria as they bring their combined consciousness to bear on what would, otherwise, be damaging. It’s a process that his daughter has no time for, but participates in, unconsciously, glad of its results, though he would never say so.
When she is finished and crying. He walks quietly to the small galley kitchen – his favourite place in the whole cottage. He fills the two cups of coffee he had prepared earlier, when she arrived, looking like thunder, after the gruelling drive.
“Did Jessica’s return to school go badly?” he asks, gently.
“Quite the opposite,” Maria sobs into her steaming coffee mug. “She faced down the bully with her new ‘big heart’ and is now a celebrity…”
“And you don’t want her to be a celebrity?” he asks, gently.
“I don’t want her to be in anyone’s spotlight.” The sobs are subsiding, the emotion washes around the room, fading into sorrow and regret as they breath it in and out.
Except your own…
It’s not about Jessica, thinks Grandad Lucca. It’s about the one who is missing.
“Did you hear from the Foreign Office,” he asks. It’s almost a whisper. He knows the answer before the words come out in a tiny hiss.
“And is it as we feared?” He’s picking up the pieces, now, because they have little time to prepare everything before word leaks out and their world gets invaded by people who live in someone else’s now.
Maria simply nods into her black coffee. It is all the answer he needs, all the answer he expected. Now it gets complicated, he thinks, taking care not to show his own feelings. For a species that’s only been around for a mere four thousandths of the Earth’s history, he thinks, we’re pretty complex…
Four hundred and sixty million years ago, LUCA had evolved to live on land, in the form of plants with roots that extended into the Earth, and green surfaces that ate the food of the Sun, directly. Plants eat, fertilise and reproduce, period. Their role in the biosphere was to be food and to aid other reproduction – Food and sex: to be sacrificed and absorbed by higher life, to whom they would bequeath their instinctive DNA. This gift, or inheritance, as science would name it, ensures that the larger the unit, the more difficult its basic activity is to overcome.
Countries, for example, eat other countries, a behaviour that does not change as you ‘ascend’ the food-chain, which only exists because LUCA-plant feeds everyone.
LUCA-plant began with seeds which, first, produced living roots beneath the surface. A life that was, in many ways, the opposite of its child, which lived its sun-kissed life in cycles of growth, fruition-seeding, death and decomposition-for-the-whole. Only the roots remained permanent, sensing, perhaps, in their unseparated kingdom, something not visible in the Sun-Moon sky.
Perhaps the Greek spiritual masters who created Persephone knew more than we’ve yet recovered from the eternally co-present LUCA mind…
End Part Eleven.
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