1966

It was springtime and the weather, while not rough, did provide us with some strong winds, but fortunately it did not rain during most of the time except for a few showers on the last day, and very fortunately it never rained at night for we had to sleep on the open deck under the stars and underneath whatever else God would happen to send us. Thaddai befriended another youth. I suspected a runaway slave, but he was finely dressed and mannered. And very convivial. And another disciple of the Nazarene. They had a peculiar way of identifying themselves to each other. On a wooden post with his knife, Thaddai discreetly carved with his small dagger an upward curved line. The other youth produced his knife, which put me on the ready, since I had no way of knowing what he was going to use it for, then, marked a corresponding downward curve, directly underneath, running it from the point to just past the other end, forming the outline of a fish. By this sign they knew each other as disciples of Christ. He was dark haired, slender and very handsome, quite in contrast to Thaddai, who was also a very beautiful boy, but like some Syrians with light skin, fair hair and green eyes, so there was no wonder his type would be highly coveted by men of sinister carnality. In hushed tones, we would huddle together speaking of our faith and exchanging questions about the Way. Larus was also going to Damascus, and would be stopping with us in Tyre. The Bishop of Ephesus had furnished him a letter with his seal to the bishop of Tyre who would give him lodgings. When we showed Larus our two letters from the bishop of Nicomedia with his seal, as well as being comforted to know that we were genuine, invited us to join him for the advantage of hospitality in Tyre.

It's All About Me (sure it is, dear, sure it is...) 1

I imagine it could be time to resume writing in my blog material other than, or, as well as, my novel, the Peacock.  I quit writing reflective, controversial, current and challenging material in the wake of the attempt of the Anglican Archdiocese of New Westminster to threaten me with their lawyers if I did not stop writing and publishing on these pages "defamatory" if very true material about those pious bastards  Well, I did win, by threatening to and starting to go totally public on them.  The cowards backed off, and even though I offered them forgiveness, to this day they refuse reconciliation with me.  Much better to save that for our First Nations People, since that gives the Anglican church of Canada such excellent PR.  I suppose it could be said they would rather reserve their pearls for worthier swine. Well, I simply no longer care.  I have been through two other churches and denominations since then, the Lutheran and the United Church of Canada, and I will likely write more on those ecclesiastical soap operas on future pages. Today, I was riding the number 33 bus out to Pacific Spirit Regional Park, that fabulous sprawling second growth forest near UBC..  One more time, on the bus, a young man was illegitimately squatting on the courtesy seat nearest the front.  Somewhere in his twenties, not going to mention his nationality or race because selfish indifference appears to be a universal human trait.  There was lots of space both in the front and in the back of the bus.  Personally I don't think younger people, unless they are children, have any business on those seats, whether they are otherwise needed or not.  I do not know Translik's position about this, but I would like to.  I am 70, so I am allowed to sit there, but I will always offer my seat to someone who needs it more, be they frail elderly, people with disabilities or mobility issues, pregnant women, or people with babies or small children.   Unless there happen to also be hale and healthy looking young people occupying those same seats, and appear to be so engrossed in their dear little smartphones that nothing else appears to be going on in their tiny universe.  Then I will say something.  If they feign deafness, I raise my voice, and will say something snappy like, excuse me, either you are too young to be sitting here or you must have a very good plastic surgeon.  Oh, and this lady needs to sit down, thank you very much.  Oh, and could you please give me the business card of your plastic surgeon?  It works every time. I am reminded of a visit to Mexico City in 2012.  On the metro train, an elderly woman was standing, and none of the selfish healthy jóvenes, or young people, would offer her a seat, not even when I tried to scold or remonstrate with them in my already fluent Spanish (I was also standing, if you must ask). So, I wrote out my frustration in my travel journal which I sent off to various friends all over the world.  One of them, Christophe, a 29 year old middle class twit who lives in Germany, responded to me with an email scolding me for daring to be so rude to people when I am visiting a foreign country.  He went on to write that when he is riding public transit, if he feels tired or is reading something he won't give up his seat either.  So, without revealing his name or nationality, I quoted him word for word in my next post.  He promptly ended our friendship. Good riddance.  I imagine that now, at forty-something, he might be married with kids of his own, or divorced, given it might take a very special kind of woman, or a very stupid one, to live with his sense of entitlement. The bus went past a very attractive looking café on W 16th ave, called Sweet Obsessions. I noticed a dog seated next to his owner on one of the comfy looking loveseats outside on the sidewalk, and right away I saw a red flag.  Dogs do not belong on furniture.  If they are permitted, they will assume to be equal to their humans and will become all the more difficult to train and discipline.  Science backs me up on this one.  Besides which, should the patron using that same loveseat once human and doggy have left, have an allergy to pet fur and dander this could be particularly problematic. I like dogs by the way, and find some of them quite adorable despite such disgusting habits as sniffing bums and crotches and eating poo.  I actually prefer cats.  But I also enjoy petting and making friends with nice doggies, and often will greet strangers on the way with, happy Monday, and your doggy too.  What annoys me is the narcissistic entitlement of some dog owners.  And I sometimes wonder if the ongoing madness about dogs in our culture is also a symptom of an ethically bankrupt narcissistic society totally corrupted by capitalism greed and selfish individualism. Likewise the fad that does not know when to die,known as sidewalk jogging.  I used to get really annoyed with joggers, like the ones hogging the narrow trails I was walking on today, for their clueless self-absorbed narcissistic behaviour.  Now I just smile if I see one coming, say beep-beep, or hi, or burn rubber, and unless they are particularly obnoxious and entitled, they almost always smile and say hi.  As if they are glad that someone has acknowledged their existence.  But that kind of isolation is one of the many bitter and poisonous fruits of narcissistic individualism and rampant capitalism. Like it or not, we are all in this together.  We really have to start addressing the spiritual and moral vacuum that has turned so many of us into such pathetic consumerist zombies.  I sense a real hunger out there.  Let's see what we can do, eh?

1965

"I imagine there were dangers and risks along the way", muses Kenny. "There was little risk from brigands or thieves, because  the high road is well patrolled.  Thaddai and I took different clandestine routes, known only to local shepherds and herdsmen, because soon there would be an alert posted about my desertion, and being caught for both of us would be a death sentence.  We travelled only at night and there was enough moonlight to keep us from getting lost, and we slept in thickets and groves during the day.  In five days we were in Ephesus where we found the home of the bishop and presented the letter and surrendered to him our horses.  We sheltered there for five days.  He was an enormously kind, generous and holy man, and per the request of the Bishop of Nicomedia, he also took care to instruct us further in the faith.  There was only one close call.  A soldier I knew in Nicomedia was patrolling the dock while we awaited the ship.  He did not appear to see us, and since I was dressed in regular street apparel it would have been harder for him to know me. But we were not taking chances.  We found refuge in the shop of a seller of purple cloth, where we had only to linger a few short minutes before the ship was ready for boarding.

1964

"We were taken under protective custody into the house of a wealthy pearl merchant who was part of the congregation of the faithful.  The bishop joined us and there for the next day we were further instructed in the faith of Our Lord.  Then the merchant gave us a good sum of silver and gold coins as well as a supply of golden pearls to supply all our needs for the journey.  A youth from the church, known already to my father and me as an adept at our trade of saddle making, agreed to take my place and assist my father in the home and in his work.  Then the bishop wrote and signed with his own seal two letters, one to be presented to the bishop of Ephesus, for our lodging and refuge for however many days we needed while waiting for the next ship to Tyre, and another letter to the bishop of Damascus, instructing him to receive us among the faithful.  Then, the pearl merchant loaned us two of his finest horses, which we rode to the great city of Ephesus..."

1963

We are all completely rapt as Tron tells us his story. His voice is deep, sonorous, but not harshly masculine, and his visage shines, his olive skin, dark hair and chiseled aquiline features showing that yes, he must indeed have been born in that part of the world, however long ago. "At the moment of my conversion, for that is what had just happened to me, I looked at my boy, Thaddai, who was now no longer mine, who was kneeling next to me, and I could already see him being taken away from me. I said to him, "Thaddai, you are no longer mine. You never were. And I can hardly face you to beg your forgiveness for how I carnally misused you, of how I also drew you into sin against our Saviour. Thaddai, here before God and before this assembly of the faithful, I release you from my bondage, from the bondage of chains and from the bondage of flesh. Only tell me now please how I could best serve you. Here we both confessed to Christ and the faithful our sin, our renunciation and, as there was a spring nearby, we were both baptised that same night. Then, we embarked together on a journey for we knew it would no longer be safe for us to remain in Nicomedia. Once they heard of my conversion I would be a dead soldier before nightfall. We set immediately together to Damascus, for Thaddai yearned to see his mother and his brothers. His father himself was dead, murdered by brigands who abducted him to sell on the slave market, for adolescent boys were a particularly hot commodity then in the beastly market of human flesh...

1962

"Ethan", says Carl. "You have a story to tell." "I am not proud of what I did", he says looking directly ahead, and not at any one of us in particular.  "I was born in the mountains of Armenia, and moved with my father  to Byzantium, in what is now called Turkey, and he found work as a saddle maker, which was his trade, in the great city that came to be called Constantinople, but was then Nicomedia, which was also the New Rome where the emperor had his throne.  My father found much trade with the garrisons and as a youth I entered into military service.  I bought a Syrian slave boy and began to violate him, as was often the custom.  He was meek and passive.  And he also followed the cult of the Nazarene.  I became very tender towards my boy, who was just three years younger than me  I was eighteen.  One day he asked permission to meet with other disciples of the Nazarene.  I felt curious and said I would come.  He looked at me in a state of nervous terror.  But I loved him, and promised I would do nothing to betray him or his fellow Christians,  The meetings were, of course, clandestine, and I was careful to dress anonymously.  They were meeting in a grove of olive trees outside the city.  I was quickly impressed.  They were mostly humble folk, then one, an aged man who appeared to be their bishop turned to me and spoke the words of the Lord to me, "You are one of the emperor's foot soldiers", he said, "and we know that you are here not to betray us but to betray your own heart to the Prince of Peace.  Now, we enjoin you that you release this boy from the vile and unclean bondage you are holding him under and turn at once to the Saviour of men and even of Romans".  At that moment, as it were, the scales fell from my eyes and I sank to my knees weeping...

1961

Retaking his chair, Tron says, "You were told, all of you, that the two dimensions have come together.  You are all going to be experiencing rather differently time, space, and sequence of events." Carl, pausing in mid grasp with the bag of chocolate chips in his lap says, "Wait a minute.  We went furniture shopping, we spent all last week visiting places, in Yaletown, South Granville, Main Street, five days we were at it.  And it was all mixed in with the other stuff". And Erik's eyes are starting to widen.  "I was in that hotel just three days.  I was helping with some of the furniture shopping.  Stella was with us." "But the other shit also happened", says Carl.  "Rescuing Jesús from his landlord, Baked, the pot cookies, the dinner party with the piñata." "It's all mixed in", say I. "And Kenny, yes we were all at the Refuge, but the day before you showed up at my doorstep, you said you couldn't stay, but you texted me before you and Amaris came to the café." "What the hell is going on?" says Erik. Turning to Tron, Kenny says, "Who Are you exactly.  I do remember you, but that was a dream, or a whole series of dreams? But on the other hand you are Also Kim Fletcher's adopted son, and you used to, and still are doing bike deliveries for the florist shop we run together Duncan. We have known each other since you were thirteen. and your name is really Ethan." "It is all still real, but not real in the sense that you have been used to", answers Ethan, because right now he is more Ethan than Tron. "Where were you just now", says Carl. "why I was taking a piss. Your sister makes excellent coffee."  He is laughing. "But you are an angel.  Yes?" says Carl. "Oh if you insist.  Okay, either it's all a hallucination, or it's all real.  It is all equally both." "I only know you as Ethan angel", says Kenny. "I am actually very human.  Not nephilim like Stella or Sven, and not angel, like Lan. And also Ethan, theology studies dropout, age twenty-eight" "Even though you were martyred almost two thousand years ago under the Roman emperor Diocletian." "You were kibble for the lions", says Carl with a snicker.  "I was crucified.  Like our young lord before me.  when I  was received into glory I was given the noble task of intercession and warfare against the dragon.  Like our lord I can walk among you but in my resurrected, glorified form.  I am still very human." "Even though yuou ar still our twenty-eight year old foster kid." "Which is why you also have to pee", says Carl, passing him the bag of chocolate chips. "And eat chocolate too", he says laughing just before tossing some chocolate into his eagerly waiting mouth.

1960

"Where do you think you're  going, Carl?" say I as I see him getting up to follow Tron. He pauses theatrically, then says, "Funny, I thought I just heard my sister."  He slinks back into his chair, then gets up again, goes to the desk and pulls open the bottom drawer.  "I knew they'd be in here."  There is an unopened club pack of President's Choice semi sweet chocolate chips in his hand. With his free left hand he pulls open an upper drawer from which he extracts a large pair of utility scissors with bright orange handles.  After cutting the bag open, he pours himself a handful of chocolate chips, then hands me the bag.  "It wouldn't be the same without the sacrament", he muses grinning. "My phone is vibrating", say I. "Turn it off." "It's Francois.  Probably important.  Hi." "are you guys alright?" "So far.  We are back in the upper room, Carl, Kenny , Erik and I, and Carl has just found us some more chocolate chips." "You can stop worrying about the house in New West.  We have already taken occupancy."  And now I have  put him on speaker phone for all to hear. "You mean to say?" "Christopher", he says tactfully, "I know about as much as the rest of you.  When we arrived at your place I got an anonymous text telling me the house is all ready.  And you should see the place now. The furniture is exquisite.  We were expecting basic Ikea, but now the place looks like a palace. and feels like a home." "What exactly happened?" "Apparently we took care of everything last week." "Last week?" exclaims Carl.  "Someone somewhere has some explainin' to do."  And now Tron, as Ethan, is entering the room...

1959

Then what happened to him?" say I. "They gave him refuge, for a long period of time.  He recomitted to the Catholic faith of his childhood and eventually took vows as a monk, but abandoned the place shortly after his novitiate was completed.  Then he found refuge with the Stolo nation where he became involved with Naomi's aunt.  He maintained a connection with the monastery and became great friends with the abbot, and then he apprenticed and trained as a shoe repairman.  He also was in contact with your father, Carl, and kept trying to persuade him to do something about the bodies entombed underneath the house, and Jan steadfastly refused.  In the meantime, I and other guardians are caring for this place.  Some of you have met some of us. "At the southern magnolia when we saw the peacock.  And one of you was communicating with Francois." "I was present.  And now I must leave you for now." "Has Melissa shown you your room?" But Tron does not reply, as he gets up and like a large beautiful cat, slips out through the door.

1958

What became of the others?" asks Kenny.  "The two women, Lydia and Rhona, were the first to leave.  Lydia was finished with Cosme, and returned immediately to Montreal.  Rhona had issues pending with the immigration authorities, and went back to Seattle.  That left Cosme and I.  He was distraught, confused, and totally lost, so he was basically under my care as I took on the task of closing down the house.  Then, in his car, we drove to the Benedictine monastery where I left him on their doorstep.  Over the years I have taken care to track him....

1956

"What really happened?", say I to Tron, for now, clearly he is no longer Ethan, random bike dude.  His glory keeps seeping out like the sun's corona from behind the shadow of the moon during a solar eclipse. "Cosme, Lydia and Rhona were using a lot of LSD.  I alone abstained, and none of them was able to distinguish between the visible real, the hallucinatory and the spiritual reality.  It all became blended together, plus not one of them was able to process the horror that had spread itself before their very eyes.." "What he wrote in his journal was all hallucinatory", says Carl. "Not entirely.  They were all wearing white robes", (And here I am imagining Douglas draped in a bedsheet toga when the police were taking him away from here in their car.  I wonder where he is or if they have found him?)..."And they were carrying torches and marching in a spiral formation.  But they did not disappear into the ground.  And they were also all high on acid.   It was Phillip, who alone was in his right mind, since he did not use drugs himself, but expertly employed them in order to manipulate and control his followers.  They had formed their spiral around him  as their centre or as their trans dimensional vortex as he prefered to be called.  We all marched back to the house.  There is a door leading to the basement, long overgrown by bushes now.  He ordered Cosme and I to stand as eternal stewards at their portal of transition into the other dimension.  They filed in one by one.  Then Phillip gave each one killer doses of sleeping pills, and then he swallowed some himself.  They all lay down on the floor in spiral formation.  Just before he lost consciousness he ordered us to close and seal the door...." "That makes you accessories", says Carl, clearly perturbed.  How interesting that now we have no club pack of chocolate chips to share among us.  This is one serious meeting. "It makes Cosme an accessory." "But you are also culpable." "I was simply under obedience.  As I have always been, as I now am." "But doesn't that also oblige you to confess?" "I cannot confess to whom can neither see or hear me." "Which means..." "All of you here can see me because you knew me in the refuge.  I cannot be made manifest to those who cannot see." I am half expecting to see Ethan transform again into the incandescent glory that is Tron, but see only Ethan, random bike dude, seated in our midst. "Cosme will also be acquitted for lack of evidence, plus inability to remember anything clearly.  But he does know where the bodies are buried...."

The Peacock 1955

Erik says, "You can't be older than me, in fact, you look even younger.  If you are that old then you must be at least eighty." "I am older than that."  And Tron, now not Ethan, looks at us all solemnly and authoritatively.  "My name then was Theo." "You were mentioned in Cosme's diary", say I. "I was appointed to oversee the end of this cult, before any more lives were destroyed.  I could only persuade Cosme and both women, Lydia and Rhona to leave.  All the others..." "How did they die?" says Carl. "They all had a stockpile of sleeping medication.  They all filed, one by one, into a room in the basement of this house.  On the orders of the leader, Phillip, Cosme and I shut and sealed the door behind them.  They were all dead within minutes....

1954

We have found refuge in the meeting room up in the garrett. Tron, still in his guise of handsome random bike dude, is in the chair near a window, and Kenny and I are flanking him, I am on his left, and Erik, and Carl has just come in with a stuffed black travelbag. "Sorry I'm late, you guys.  There were some more things I wanted to take back with me, clothes and a few books." "Are there really human remains here?" asks Erik. "They're about as human as they come, Erik", says Tron with baritone authority. "A couple of weeks ago, with help from a couple of Spanish speakers who unfortunately are not available", says Carl, "We were able to learn of this particularly bizarre cult that used to occupy this place during the sixties." "Cosme is not to be trusted", says Tron.  Many of those pages were written under the influence of hallucinogenic drugs, such as were very freely available here during that time." "You know that because...", say I. "I know that because I was here.  Living among them..."

1953

"Wait a minute", say I, "Kenny, you're staying with me, so what are we going to do?" "Plus", snorts Sheila, "You´ve forgotten Glen." "Wait a minute", says Carl. "Text from Maureen. She can take three. Glen, Mel, how about Maureen's for the time being?" "That works", says Melissa. "Glen?" "No problem." "So then", says Melissa, picking up Tron's plate and balancing two mugs on her fingers, "Let's get this show on the road..."

1952

"The apartment has two bedrooms", says Erik.  "I used to sleep there" "I wasn't thinking", say I.  "Yes, we can do it, if the ladies can help out." "Yes, Carol can", says Melissa.  "Sarah is returning to Maureen's tomorrow and she can take two.  She seems particularly interested in taking in Sheila, because of her age, and because she just said she likes her tremendously, and Michael, because she wanted mother and son to be together." "We still have to wait for Maureen", says Sheila. "Yer staying' with us, Mel", announces Carl.  "And there's room for Matthew. you can both fight over which room you get, or maybe one of you could stay in the apartment with George and Jeffrey." "I volunteer", says Matthew.  "They're both lots of fun." "How about transportation?" says Glen. "Not a problem", says Melissa.  "We can all go in my car." "And...Ethan?" says Carl. "I'm okay. I will be staying for the investigation." "but you can't sleep here", says the ever pragmatic Melissa  No one can." "I have made other arrangements", he replies, spooning half melted ice cream and cake into his mouth...