And now, during the very joyous consumption of a large plate of macaroni au curry, it is time for the surprise of today (drum roll please!):

Yes, the publisher finally sent me the the approval request for their mailing to be used to announce my second novel! That means that within the foreseeable future, like two weeks or so, the first copies will be coming out of their very versatile machinery, which not only prints them, but binds and covers them as well.

To me, this novel was a way of dealing with a reality I could not explain away. Stuff happened, but Occam’s simplest solution just didn’t restrict itself to normal 3D happenings. Thus, a SciFi novel was born, to explain 2010 events from a future involvement that might even be true, but would require an open mind to believe in it. It involves a lot of the concepts I picked up here over the years, delivered in plain English in order to wake up more people to the surreality of Reality.

Below, I’ll post a nice section of the novel, to give you an idea. Although the publisher will set up a vending mechanism on their site shortly, it will be in Dutch, and does not have my personal touch to it. So if you want it, just E-mail me at andre@moorelife.nl, and I’ll make sure you get your very own copy, customized with a dedication and autograph before I send it! (or not, depending on how YOU want it…..) The publisher set the official price at just under 23 Euros for a 250 page novel. I’ll have to see what can be done about shipping, but it’s just a novel, right?

I love you readers….

Dre’

8<—————————————————–

4444AD,
Day 225, 09:08, Workshop

As
I walk back into the workshop, the soothing voice of the fabric
weaver notifies me of its completion of the job. One square meter of
the simulated creamy leather is lying on my work area, in front of
the machine. Today I work on my own gems, but jobs for others happen
just as often. And unlike my 2007 counterpart, I never worry about
what I’ll get back for it. Once you are convinced that everything
will be taken care of, trivialities like that are no longer worth
worrying about.

I
finish taking apart the original leather seating, and meticulously
unfasten the stitches that held it together all these years. I spread
the old pieces of leather onto the new fabric, and find my square
meter estimate to be totally on the mark: several centimeters
separate the various parts, so the automated cutter will have no
problem finding the outlines.

I
switch it on, and the directed low-intensity laser beam scans past
the surface. It’s sensors pick up the height difference between the
new material and the old parts on top of it, and quickly settle into
their perceived outline proposition. I inspect, and correct a few
minor misreads, by simply touching the outlines and redrawing parts
of them with my finger. When it’s perfect, I take off the old parts,
and let the high-powered cutting beam take over: presto, four new
pieces of ‘leather’, ready to be sown. The cutting laser even
punctured the holes that the needle left in the original material.

Like
the tailors from days of old, I sit on the table with my legs
crossed, to sow the parts together. I remember having struggled with
the orientation of stuff like that when doing similar work in my
distant past, but not anymore: now, I pick up the pieces one by one,
and calmly stitch them together with a needle. There’s no technical
substitute for needlework, at least not if you want to use
pre-punched holes. So manual labor it is. And I’m not even disliking
it: I know the love spent on it will show itself in the end result!

As
I attach the final thread, Selina walks into the shop. She drapes
herself seductively over the 1916 Twindian, and flashes her dark and
mysterious eyes at me. “Care to go for a walk with me?” she asks.
“What did you have in mind?” I counter. “Lake Watchatanabee in
winter” my lovely twin answers. She gets off the ancient bike, and
grabs my hand.

Like
the guy in Genesis’ “the Lady Lies”, I follow her lead, knowing
full well I’d follow her into the depths of hell, had it existed.

We
punch our destination into the transporter pad, preferring the
experience of manual input to the more intuitive method of addressing
it with thought. One small step for two ‘droids, a great leap forward
into the wild and still largely untamed forests of what used to be
Alaska. Lake Watchatanabee recovered nicely, after the HAARP facility
was destroyed with help of a few friends from beyond the stars.

They
don’t really interfere normally, but when human consciousness uttered
its outrage at HAARP’s actions against Holland, it was obvious that
it no longer could be allowed to exist despite the fact that a small
faction actually wanted it as leverage. I’m not sure what our friends
did to it, but within minutes all HAARP personnel found themselves a
mile and a half from where they had previously been working, standing
there looking at a huge hole in the ground where previously the
extended antenna arrays of the facility had been. Nobody felt the
need to build there anymore, and Nature was left in charge, to do
what she does best: Grow and Flourish!

We
materialize on the pad at the location where the personnel was taken
to all these years ago. In front of us stretches the square mile of
lake surface, which isn’t actually square, but in fact perfectly
round. We know from earlier walks that frequent visitors from all
over the planet and beyond have worn out a nice path all the way
around the lake: A perfect 5678 meter walk, with forest on one side,
and the lake on the other!

“I
have tabs on the shoreline” my lady smiles. As a result, we both
know we’re going to do the walk clockwise this time, during the
evening hours here at lake Watchatanabee: it’ll be dark by the time
we complete the tour.

Rather
than disturb a perfect walk, I’ll just quickly explain HAARP to those
who haven’t heard of it before:

The
High frequency Active Auroral Research Project, as it was called,
purportedly researched the effects of radio waves upon the
atmosphere. Since much lower intensity experiments displayed effects
even on solid matter, soon the idea surfaced that HAARP was in fact
used to trigger earthquakes all over the world. And let’s face it,
the officially reported 3.6 Megawatts of the facility could do quite
some damage.

One
only needed to Google for it back around the start of the
twenty-first century, to find stories about how they blew a hole in
Earth’s atmosphere repeatedly, resulting in several human casualties,
from deformed babies to completely fried Eskimos.

Depressing
stuff like that kept people down for quite some time. But anger,
often portrayed to be a negative emotion, eventually proved quite
positive: it got people to realize they had no room in their world
for allowing such gross suppression of millions of their fellow men
and women.

The
straw that finally broke the camel’s back was the military’s
involvement with the 2028 Summer Olympics, which were organized by
Rotterdam, the Netherlands’ largest port city. Wanting to get the
newly voted in Dutch government to fall in line with New World Order,
they commanded the crew at the HAARP facility to disturb the opening
ceremony of the Olympics with a well-targeted jolt of energy designed
to make the low lands by the sea part of the North Sea forever. Most
of the world’s population watching the event live on TV never knew
what hit them: they figured the rainbow-colored excitation of the sky
above the Olympic stadium was part of the show, and thus thought
nothing of it. The few spectators that did know the precursors to
HAARP attacks were barely fast enough to make it out of there alive:
the following quake, nine point one on the Richter scale, was
powerful enough to damage or obliterate many of the dikes that
guarded the south of the lovely country, thus leading to the flooding
of many square miles of heavily populated country. Amsterdam and
Rotterdam were turned into scenes like the ManHattan at the end of
Spielberg’s AI, and many casualties both temporary and permanent were
to be deplored.

Of
course the Olympics that year were canceled, for the sixth time in
history. The rumor mill that was the Web ran overtime, and pretty
soon, the voices of discontent gathered there cut clear across the
media conglomerates’ ‘official’ explanation. People went out into the
streets everywhere, demanding the dismantlement of HAARP and similar
facilities worldwide.

Since
it was then painfully obvious that the majority of humanity did not
want to maintain these doomsday machines, but the powers that be did
not wish to relinquish control, our friends from beyond the stars
were called in. When they leveled the main HAARP facility with
minimum effort and a zero fatality count, no further show of strength
was needed: within a month, the remaining similar sites were
abandoned, and demolition crews had been called in to dispose of
these relics.

But
enough on that, I’ve got a lovely being walking beside me, and I
don’t want to waste all of my time on you readers instead of on her.

Selina
looks up at me and smiles. Naturally, she’s pegged in to my RSS feed,
and so knows about anything I write just as soon as I do write it.
Furthermore, our synced feelings always show us each others’ moods,
so she knew I was in teaching mode just now. “Finished?” she
asks. I extend my right arm, and gently pull her in beside me. The
moment I do, she freezes, and her eyes focus somewhere to our left.

I
follow her gaze, and see a red fox carefully snooping around the
treeline. It hasn’t noticed us yet, but is deeply involved in
stalking a small rabbit or a hare foraging nearby. I momentarily
engage my zoom function to check that the prey indeed is a rabbit,
just as the fox pounces and gets its evening dinner! At the same
moment there is a barely perceptible shiver on my right side: Selina
never could get used to one being killing another, even if it is for
its own survival.

 

Sunday,
March 13th,
2010, 14:41

As
it seems, the interconnectedness of things tends to become more
intense, more widespread. Where ideas in my youth were separate gems
that stood by themselves, there happens to be a sort of binding force
at work, intent on stitching it all together.

Having
run into a block of sorts, I figured I’d do the website early, partly
as a distraction, and partly as a possible source of inspiration.
Because that I’ve learned by now: if I relax and trust the process
that delivers, it will
deliver, no doubts about it!

And
again it worked: my very last addition of today spoke of
manifestation being an act of trust. Quite in line with my earlier
remark that I didn’t quite understand that mechanism yet, the Cosmos
provided me with the most clear-cut example of how it works: trust
first, then doubt about your wishes arriving becomes futile, like
resistance against Borgs!

Being
in a multi-timeline environment like this novel gives one a distinct
perspective on reality. Is thought cause or effect, does it precede
or follow reality? Looking back upon our lives, I’m quite certain
we’ve all encountered events in our minds, that later became
‘reality’. Most of us are aware that what we plan has a certain
tendency to become reality. But usually we expect realization to take
a certain amount of physical action to complete. Now if you’re lucky,
you’ve already encountered some thoughts that required zero physical
action on your part, to manifest in a way that seemed unexpected to
say the least. Now that is manifestation 101: by leveraging these
wild realizations, you begin to embrace the idea that physical
activity is not always required to make something become a reality in
your life. Sure, it may help, just as I’m writing this novel to shape
my reality, but by now I’m quite convinced I could very well trash
the novel, lie flat on my back, and just wait for the love of a
lifetime to miraculously appear on my doorstep. But then again, that
wouldn’t be half as satisfying as doing what I’m doing right now. And
frankly, I doubt which would be faster….

My
most remarkable results in this arena were ‘fire and forget’: Think
it once, forget all about it, and just continue with whatever takes
your fancy. That’s how I landed the ‘Portraits of a Lady’, twice in a
row, and several other things not mentioned here: why else do I live
a mere three hundred meters from where my kids live?

So,
do our thoughts cause reality, or does reality cause thoughts? Or are
they, like everything, so intricately intertwined that no such
assessment can be made with absolute certainty? Does my writing
dictate what will happen, predict it, or does it merely describe
things as they have already happened? In the same token, does writing
this novel work to realize wild ideas from my ever expanding mind,
where singular ideas about my future are rapidly forming themselves
into coherent webs of meaningful coincidence?

Suffice
it to say, that the web of Knowledge in my mind is vastly larger than
the limited subset of what will be a three hundred page novel by the
time it is finished. An image says more than a thousand words, and
the movies inside my mind are extremely high definition
masterpieces……

 

4444AD,
Day 225, 19:28, Lake Watchatanabee

The
snow creaks under our strolling feet. It has freshly fallen, with the
snowfall just now subsiding. Selina has gotten over the fox and his
somewhat offensive choice of a dinner partner, and is happily
chatting away. I walk beside her, my right hand with hers in her
right coat pocket. Her left is in her own pocket, for her arms cannot
comfortably reach across my broad back, and into my coat pocket.

An
eagle flies overhead, its outstretched wings measuring almost seven
feet. We both look up, imagining for a moment how it would be to fly
that high. Heck, why even imagine? A quick nod, and together we
engage remote viewing, temporarily picking up whatever the eagle
overhead is viewing. Very synchronistically, it is just at that
moment observing us…..

Awesome,
to soar that high, over the snow covered trees of the Alaskan
outback. We could stay with it, to watch it reach its nest, probably
in this very secluded location. “Let’s”, I hear my lady say. Her
pretty mouth hasn’t actually formed a word, but the intention is
there nevertheless. Amused we watch as the eagle flies out of visual
range, towards the more densely populated forest areas. Then, all of
a sudden, it dives down, apparently spotting a prey. I sense the
disconnect as Selina drops out of remote viewing, and I decide that
that takes precedence. I too disconnect, just in time to catch her
looking up at me. We both know which trace of the past caused this
fearful reaction: in a previous incarnation, my twin was a young
child, with a pet cat whom she adored. One day, while playing with
miss Kitty in the garden, little Marion got terrified when a large
Doberman jumped the fence and attacked the white Persian. A flurry of
white hair and splotches of red, and the attacker left behind one
completely ravaged cat, and its almost catatonic owner.

Sure
enough, Marion seemed to recover quite fast, as children are said to
do, but the scars of the attack stayed with her, even across the
boundaries of several incarnations. And thus my darling Selina still
quivers when seeing one animal slay another.

With
the night swiftly falling, as far as the location of the lake will
allow, we walk the remaining half mile or so in the eerie
half-darkness of the midsummer night. The seasons are such, that the
sun just about dips beneath the horizon, before coming back up again.
As we reach the transporter pad, its last rays light up the mountain
top across the lake. The familiar feeling of being spread out into an
unbearable lightness ceases, and the two of us crash on the soft
silkfoam couch that means home to us…

“I
could stomach it when the fox got the rabbit”, Selina begins. “But
watching it first-person up close and personal was just a bit too
much!” On the other hand, the knowledge that the eagle probably had
a nest full of young nearby did make a difference for my lovely lady
friend. So much so in fact, that she is glad that despite my checking
out also, I’d been able to record the dive of the eagle right until
the end of the following flight home, where the prey indeed proved to
become food for her young.

We
watch it together, Selina snugly seated on my lap, embraced by two
long and very loving arms. After that display of motherly love on the
large living room wall, we retire to bed, not because we need the
rest, but because love can not be made, only experienced…..