All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923) (13 page)

“The same is true of its light spectrum. Each tree produces a certain amount of heat. The same can be said for every thing in existence. Take rocks, for instance. Granite emits a light aura different from a piece of limestone or marble because of the different energies involved in its being what it is, but all fall within the broad category of rock-energy emanations. It’s like the expression, ‘no two snowflakes are alike.’

“Each piece of matter is different from each other piece of matter, and the matter that works in conjunction with other matter to form the shape of a rock or tree is a complex, unique, and wonderfully original symphony of light and sound. Most of it is invisible and undetectable to the human sensory apparatus. The thing is, the universe is a constantly moving interaction of energy, giving off light and heat and vibrating in a very musical, very mathematical, orchestration. The energy-light creates the sound, but the sound, when properly played back, controls the energy within the light.”

“That’s deep, Al, and I’m trying to follow. How do you mean, ‘controls?’”

“What I mean,” Al replied, “is that if we could play the correct tune; tone, pitch, timbre, pace, to say, an old dying tree, we could reinvigorate it with new active energy and give it back its health.”

“Like the fountain of youth?”

“Yes,” said Al with excitement in his voice. “Yes, exactly—a cosmic fountain of harmonic youth. And the same could be done for humans. For instance, I have heard that medical science, or perhaps a better term would be natural herbalists, believes that apricot pits have cancer-curing properties. Let’s assume for a minute that this is true. If I could detect the exact rhythms inherent in said apricot pit and play it to a person dying of cancer, dying of a malignant melody, the two tunes would cancel each other out, and the person would recover. It’s like taking vitamins. The vitamins have natural chemicals in them that stimulate parts of the body to health, but it’s actually the harmonies of the substances in the vitamins themselves that react with the harmonies of the body.”

“Like carrots improve eyesight?”

“Exactly. The undetectable rhythms of the vitamin A in a carrot are the melodies that the undetectable harmonies of the eyes respond to. It’s so amazing. God created the science, and we apply it without really knowing how.”
“This is incredible, Al. This could change the world.”

“Yes, but sadly mankind will not embrace the Creator’s miracles. They need science to have belief. They would attempt to prove the existence of harmonies so doggedly that, in so doing, they would create counter-harmonies, anti-harmonies, that would bludgeon the natural music to death.”

“But how else can we, as a race, learn the sounds necessary to play the healing patterns of music?” asked Lester.

“We have to learn to listen.”

“But you said these sounds are undetectable.”

“Yes, but it’s not the sound we need to hear. It is the Word of God. When God said, ‘Let there be light’ He didn’t just wave a magic wand and create light. He already had the spiritual laws in place that govern the physical plane. It was the sound of His word that harnessed the light of creation. In other words, God has faith in Himself to perform His own will. Sadly, we have never learned to embrace faith in Him. Not fully. Not truly. Except for a few that God has called.”

Like yourself?” asked Lester.

“Yes, and perhaps like you, Lester. But more importantly, like the men and women one reads about in the Bible. Those who have found a way back to their faith in God. There is a whole list of them in Hebrews chapter eleven.”

“Well, after hearing everything you’ve told me tonight, Al,” said Lester, finishing his beer, “I now find myself with more faith in God.”

“Perhaps, and I hope so. But faith is like the rocks we were talking about earlier; it is solid and full of energy. It is like the trees also, it grows and has a memory. It is a very special thing. Faith, like love and righteousness and kindness, joy, mercy and on and on, are bridges between the physical world and the world of spirit.”

“They are?”

“Yes, of course. You’ve heard of having the faith to move a mountain?”

“Sure.”

“God doesn’t just move the mountain for you if you have faith. You move it. When you truly, totally realize the perfection of faith, the music of faith, the full harmonic vibrating sound of it, its particular sound signature blends with your own natural harmonic output, and thus becomes usable. You use it with your will to harness the mountain’s own natural frequencies, and you can move that mountain.”

“Like the force?”

Al laughed. “Similar, in a way, but less magical and more miraculous. Because for people to discover that faith within themselves is a miracle. I’ve heard it said that ‘miracles are not the suspension of natural laws but the operation of higher laws.’”

“I want that kind of faith.”

“God wants you to want it. But like Simon Magus learned when he spoke to the Apostle Peter, it is not for sale. It has to grow and get stronger like a muscle, like a hand. If you keep your hand in your pocket and never use it, for weeks and years, it will atrophy and become useless, but if you exercise that hand daily, it will get stronger. Faith is maintained by consistent use, and it is only acquired by a deep longing to have a one-on-one relationship with our heavenly Father. And that desire in us is music to God’s ears.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” said the waitress, “but it’s closing time.”

“Yes, of course,” said Al. “I’m sorry to have pushed our welcome to the limit,” he said with a smile.

“No problem,” she said.

Al had just started to put away his other journals and his Bible when the bartender hollered, “You don’t have to go home people, but you can’t stay here.”

Lester tipped up his empty glass to drain the last few drops of beer, thought about putting out his cigarette for a second but instead picked it up and slid out of the booth. Al grabbed his duffle bag, and they walked in silence out to Lester’s car.

“Can I give you a lift, Al?” Lester asked as he unlocked the doors.

“Oh, no thank you, Les. I think the walk home will do me some good. We’ve been sitting for a while. Besides, it’s not all that far you know.”

“So can we talk some more tomorrow?” asked Lester.

“Oh, I insist on it,” said Al with a grin.

“Good, and listen Al, I’m not really tired yet. I’ll probably stay up for a bit. I was wondering if I might do some more reading.”

“That’s a good idea, Les,” said Al, rummaging through his duffle bag for another journal. “Here you go.”

He handed him the next notebook, and they shook hands.

“I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Maybe you could come over to my place, and we’ll have some lunch?”

“Sounds good,” said Lester, tucking the notebook under his arm and opening his car door. “I can hardly wait.”

Lester drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove. His mind was racing, but he kept the car slightly under the speed limit. The story that Al had shared with him over the last four hours was a lot to absorb, but that was okay since his mind felt especially spongy after hearing it.

The fact that his friend was nearly six thousand years old was just…wow, the things he must have seen. The things he must know, if it were all true. Then there was the whole bit with the Neanderthals and the energy-aura stuff. He looked down at the cigarette still burning in the car’s ashtray. He shook his head and let out a cheek-busting puff of breath. He felt like he had just stepped into the twilight zone, half expecting Rod Serling to materialize along the side of the road just before his life went to commercial. And what was he supposed to do with all this information anyway? He was a normal guy. He liked to go home in the evenings after a work day and kick back in his La-Z-Boy with a beer and the sports page, or maybe watch some boobtube. But all that seemed insignificant in light of Al’s revelations this evening.

He glanced down at the journal in the passenger’s seat and wondered what new, mind-blowing tales Al had written in there. How long ago? The journal didn’t look all that old; cardboard cover, stitched binding, lined pages. These weren’t stories that Al had written hundreds of years ago, these were recollections recently remembered and recorded.

Lester’s mind drifted for a while as he tried to put puzzle pieces in their proper perspective. Impossible. He flirted with the idea for a moment of turning on the radio and drowning out some of the noise in his brain.
If music can do that, drown out your thoughts, then maybe it can do some of those fantastic things that Al talked about. Cure people, light cigarettes, move mountains; and if it could, why hadn’t Al just whistled some renewed life back into his wife before she died? Sounds kind of New Age, if you ask me,
he thought. Lester noticed that the Capp & Ginos
coffee shop
was closed as he drove by
. Miracle music…Just a new spin on defining music therapy, it’s been tried before. Every witch doctor, shaman, swami, yogi, transcendental meditationist, and musician has tried to find the groove. And cultures from before, ancient cultures, Indian cultures, prehistor—

Lester stopped himself mid-thought. Not because he was unsure whether he had to question his entire belief system about prehistory, but because he realized that he was thinking to himself. “Well, it’s not as bad as talking to myself, but it must rate right up there.”

“I’m a regular Calvin without the benefits of a stuffed tiger. Al really did a number on me tonight. I don’t understand how he could bottle it all up for so many years. I guess, like a good wine, the story has just gotten better by the passage of time,” Lester said to himself, missing his street and circling around the block.

“I never in a million
years
would have guessed what Al was going to say tonight. I mean, I knew it would be heavy, but this is ridiculous. This is the absolute heaviest he could have made it. I almost feel sorry for the guy. I mean, if he really is the six thousand year old son of Adam and Eve, how sad is it that his best friend is a fifty year old window washer?

Oh great,
Lester thought again.
Now
I am talking to myself. Al must’ve brain damaged me.

He pulled into his drive and opened his door so by dome light he could see to grab his stuff. After shutting his door, he walked to the house and made a high-pitched
whoop woop
noise in the back of his throat, as if his car had an alarm. He unlocked the door, turned on the lights, and went in, relocking the door.

He grabbed the mail from his slot and turned on his computer, setting the journal on the peninsula cabinet. He heard the server’s motors “whirving” up as he thumbed through his junk mail and bills. He wanted to get right to reading Al’s journal, but he also wanted to look up a couple of things first; he googled about music therapy. He found an article about Banner Desert Medical Center in Mesa, Arizona, that said, “They are being afforded the same credibility as speech and physical therapists, thanks to growing evidence of music’s tangible health benefits.” They also said, “…people are more than their bodies.”
Hmmm.

Another article said that a study of people who listen to music for an hour every day for a week lessened their chronic pain by up to twenty percent. The instructions were to select unfamiliar music that plays at sixty to seventy beats per minute or less, (like slow songs) use headphones, find a comfortable spot, turn off other noise, close your eyes, breathe deep, and do it uninterrupted for fifteen to thirty minutes.

He then pulled up the King James Bible and found that apparently a shepherd boy named David was supposed to have played a harp to soothe the soul of the king. A nation walked around a city wall playing trumpets, and the wall fell down. The heavens declare God’s glory and the angels sing hallelujah. He typed in Genesis and thought he’d read the original creation story before he started in again with the journal. He started skimming chapter four, recognizing much of it from earlier, seeing it all with new eyes.

He paused over verse ten which said, “The voice of your brother’s blood cries out to me from the ground.” Then Cain was cursed and complained that now anyone who finds him will kill him. But on all the earth at that time there were only six other people: his mother and father, three sisters, and Kole, his older brother. And Cain would have perhaps despised his older brother all his life for making him feel fearful of vengeance and retribution.
I guess I’ll find out soon,
thought Lester glancing over at the journal.

He found his place in the online Bible and started to read again. Verse sixteen: “Then Cain went out from the presence of the Lord and dwelt in the land of Nod on the east of Eden. And Cain knew his wife and she conceived and bore Enoch. And Cain built a city, and called the name of the city after his son Enoch” Lester’s eyes widened. “Cain knew his wife… Oh, no!” thought Lester, suspecting the worst.

He had no appetite for e-mail, but he did have an appetite. He turned off the computer, sliced some cheese and crackers, peanut buttered some celery, and poured a cup of water. He heated it and dropped in a bag of tea. He didn’t know what kind it would be because a couple of weeks earlier he had opened the lazy-Susan too quickly, and spilled three different boxes of tea on the floor at the same time. Rather than trying to sort it all out he had just put all the teabags in a bag. He thought about trying the music thing but figured he was too wound up. Instead he sat in his EZ-chair and kicked up the footrest. He pulled the journal over to him, got comfortable, popped a cheese-topped cracker in his mouth, and opened the book of AL.