LETTER #21
It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it. -- Aristotle
My dear friend:
I ask Aristotle “where are we?” He tells me that, ”in a sense…we are in the heart of the city of Beirut.” “But it looks nothing like Beirut”, I reply. He assures me that “all is not as it seems.”
He continues to tell me more... “R.R. Tolkien called it Middle Earth…Kahlil Gibran called it Orphalese…it is Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey…it is the place where Prometheus disappeared after he withdrew his fire from the world. It is Eden. It is paradise. It is an illusion. It is reality. It is Revelation. It is another dimension outside of time and space,” he pauses, and then says, “it is whatever it appears to be to you.” All I know, is that this place makes me feel so intrinsically alive.
“I have incarnated into a shadow world many times,” Aristotle says, as if offering an explanation to my thoughts. “Shadow World?” I question. “Plato’s name for it.” “You mean Earth?” “To name one.” Then, he starts walking toward the other Pentagon. “I believe you have an appointment to keep.” He gestures with his hand. “Shall we?” Together we walk down the hill.
“How many times?” I ask, assuming he is reading my mind and needs no further explanation. “I lived one lifetime in Greece, as a philosopher,” he smiles and indicates his persona now. “I lived the simple life of a painter on the Continent of Mu…I was a temple priest in Atlantis…I was a Druid in Ireland. I was a Masai Warrior in Kenya. I was a lawyer in Philadelphia during America’s Independence. I was an Anasazi Indian in the Colorado Territories…and, there have been many others since.”
“Are you living in a shadow world, now?” I ask. He says, “Yes, Earth.” I ask if he is in Lebanon…he says he is living in Washington D.C. actually. Suddenly, I feel chills run up my arms. “Is it possible that I know you?” I can feel expectation pushing its way into the essential parts of my brain as I wait for him to answer. “Of course,” he says, “anything is possible.”
“Since this is my experience it’s more probable than possible, right?” He smiles. “You are a quick learner, Madam President.” Slowly, Aristotle’s flowing Grecian robes dissolve into a contemporary-looking brown tweed jacket, button-down shirt, baggy corduroy slacks and loafers. A Pentagon Visitor’s badge hangs around his neck. Aristotle’s face morphs into the face of Dysher Cory.
What would you do?
Love,
Tennessee