“On life's journey faith is nourishment, virtuous deeds are a shelter, wisdom is the light by day and right mindfulness is the protection by night. If a man lives a pure life, nothing can destroy him.”
--Buddha
“When you look back down your chart you will notice two significant things: Some vibrations become only certain others, and some stay the same name. Second if we group the resulting smallest bits into threes, the larger chunks follow suit. Let me make that clearer for you.” He elaborated, “So let's examine this first significant item of notice. What becomes of the REs, the MIs, and SOLs?”
The host studied the map and promptly answered, “They become DOs, all of them.”
The guest replied, “Good. Now what becomes of the other notes?”
The host ran his finger over the page and said, “The FAs stay FAs, and the LAs become FAs then stay FAs.”
“And the TIs?” he prompted the younger man.
“They disappear; except the Scale 0 TI, it skips Scale 1 and shows up as a Sol in Scale 2.”
“Excellent, what else do you notice about all that?” the guest pressed him.
The host scratched his chin as he looked further. “Well... all the notes of the Scale 0 octave are reused in both the next scales, except TI, as I said before... then that TI's vibration gets used in the last scale. But the other Ti's vibrations are only used once.” The older man nodded, and indicated there may be something else in front of him. “Uh... well, at Scale 0's MI and SOL when they get to Scale 2 there are double Do's?”
“Well done again,” the guest congratulated. “Now let's look at those groupings I mentioned at the outset. All the Do's of Scale 2 actually came from Scale 1 and those of Scale 1 came from Scale 0, but all the notes created between those Do's truly belong only to that Scale. So the notes between all the Do's of Scale 2 really belong to that scale alone. Let's bracket them in threes, alright?”
The host took his pencil and made an initial bracket for Re 219, Mi 222 and Fa 224. Then a second for So 228, La 232 and Ti 237. Skipping the Do, as it came from the previous scale, he next bracketed Re 246, Mi 252 and Fa 256. Then So 264, La 272 and Ti 282. Thus he continued up the Scale 2 created notes until he at last reached the last bracket consisting of So 1344, La 1408 and Ti 1488. He showed the assemblies to his guest for confirmation.
“Perfect. Now here's a bit of traditional knowledge. It was determined in ages past that each of our six centers has three parts: a mechanical part which works without attention, an emotional part whose attention is drawn by the object itself of that attention, and an intellectual part of the center which holds its attention by will alone. Then each of these three parts of centers has its own three parts---mechanical, emotional and intellectual.” He paused for his host to scribble marginal notes on this key information. “So, if we next lump these bracketed little groups into sets of three, what will we have?”
The young man began lumping them together as indicated. What emerged was that the bottom three groups, from Re 219 up to Fa 256 made the bottom chunk. The next chunk ran from So 264 up to Ti 372. The next was from Re 438 up to Fa 512, next from So 528 up to Ti 744. Then the last two chunks from Re 876 to Fa 1024, and from So1056 up to Ti 1488.
He looked down at the new groupings and said with a touch of surprise, “There are six large chunks here and each one has three notes from Scale 1 as larger representatives of the group. Would those serve as the mechanical, emotional, and intellectual parts of the centers, proper?”
“Yes, indeed,” replied his guest.
“So then here are the six centers, each with there own three parts, and each of those with their own three parts of parts!” The young man was beaming with the thrill of discovery. A real mathematical representation of all those otherwise confusing labels the older man had been referring to all this time in their discussions. Here before him was the Instinctive and Moving centers grouped in the lower level---just as predicted. In the second level were the Emotional and Intellectual centers, and finally in the top was the spiritual level where were the two centers his guest had called the Higher Emotional and Higher Mental. He was at last feeling as though they were really making some actual sense of those fundamental, and for him, somewhat abstract Law of Three and Law of Octaves.
“What you hold in your hand is the map of the inner world of man's machine. It is a real verifiable map of your own inner world. Cells organize into tissues, tissues organized into the organs of the organism of a man. Now young man, 'What do ya say to that?'” And without waiting for his young friend's smile to fade from expression into words, he began the story once more from where he'd left off---but with a caveat: “I should probably explain that while Harry was still finishing his Malvern studies, a new beginning of sorts was arising amongst his family and friends.”
He thought a moment and began, “Let me take you back to well before Commemoration. The summer of the Bessamer's announcement to relocate to San Francisco and the Spelman's extended visit in Tahoe City was rapidly drawing toward September before any one realized the air was growing nippier. Miss Sarah Bunker volunteered to sponsor the Theater Society on the condition that her students would be instrumental in any productions set for performance.
“The dramatic Arts inspire creativity and imagination in children, and I find them an indispensable resource for a thorough education...” She had said when Belle and Kaitlyn approached her for her opinion.
Titania and Hipolyta were thoroughly jubilant at the prospect of performing in public all the plays they had produced as junior thespians in the Livingson great room. Notices were posted and the response by the community was positive indeed. Those villagers who had always secreted any inclination toward the dramatic now found a ready outlet and they came forward to add their names to the lists of the Village Theatrical Society. The school house was commissioned for their meetings and rehearsals.
Lawrence Spelman found precisely the property he wished to develop. It was above the Truckee River on the last stretch leading into the village and commanded a view of both the river and the lake. It also, as good fortune might have it, was at the edge of town near opposite to the Livingson Bungalow Lodges. He made a generous amendment in the development plans he discussed with George. He intended to build a proper school house for the town in lieu of the poorly renovated burnt out building provisionally employed for the purpose. “The house will be set up the slope far enough and so secluded from the more publicly accessible school that I am sure the Village Council and the School Committee will approve the location.” He pointed out on the plot map a section on the River Road just as it became Main Street in town.
“It seems to me anything you just give them, they will approve of, Lawrence,” answered George with a grin.
“Well there's that. I have had Kaitlyn contact Harry regarding the building plans. Belle told me he's immersed himself in his apprenticeship. It is not so surprising, I suppose, for Harry to both complete his University studies and hold down a new career at the same time. Maybe he'll be willing to add this little project to his to-do list as well. It can't hurt to ask him, and truth be told, he would be the ideal man for the job---what with his familiarity of the environs and of my own tastes, etc.”
George was sure if Harry could do it he would. Lawrence continued, “Samuel wrote to me; he and Olivia did not see Harry over this last summer, but hope he will be 'home' at Christmas break. I do hope he managed to see them, they are quite as fond of him as we are you know.” Lawrence became wistful.
George brought him out of his momentary revery, “Lawrence, Belle and I are seriously planning to increase the capacity of the Lodges. Another four buildings of eight suites arranged in the same manner as the present ones are set, and adjacent to them.”
“Capital idea, George; capital,” congratulated Mr. Spelman.
“Well, thank you. You see I mention this because they will sit here,” He indicated on the plot map still lying on the big table before them, a swath of land directly opposite Lawrence's intended developed parcel. “We don't want to spoil your views or crowd you in any way since you've looked so hard for an ideal situation, and...”
“Not at all!” Lawrence broke in, “When I said it will be secluded, I was genuinely sure that this village will no doubt continue to grow in the years to come. I am locating the house remotely for that eventuality. That that growth actually coincides with my own construction is proof of my initial inclination.” He smiled widely, his shoulders pulled back delighted that he had demonstrated good foresight.
A package came over a week later at the near last week of August. An oblong wooden box from Great Malvern, England, addressed to Mr. Lawrence Spelman, Number Three, Livingson Bungalow Lodges, Tahoe City, California. On the afternoon of its arrival, once all were gathered around for the opening, Lawrence, did the honors. “I really didn't expect Harry to have responded so quickly...” he said as he uncrated a long thick cylinder and opened it. Belle looked to Kaitlyn who returned the inquisitive glance with an expression of utter delight. She had merely asked Harry to 'consider' the project; 'as a favor to her on behalf of her father,' she had added casually.
Lawrence gasped. “Oh my.” A sheaf of plans from topographical situations with grading and filling, landscape, access and building situations, to detailed construction plans, materials lists and timelines were amassed there on the table before them. All this and he included the new School House designs and construction plans. Tania, Hipolyta and Kaitlyn looked these over. “Look here! He's included a real stage at one end of the building! Oh Harry!” They pointed to the features and showed the others excitedly.
“Here's a note,” said George and caught at a paper which had separated itself from the rolls of plans and drifted toward the floor. He held it out to Lawrence. Mr. Spelman read the few lines aloud, “My apologies, I'm afraid I didn't have time to assemble the view maps for your residence, but I am quite sure you will find that your vista of the river and lake are framed quite nicely by the near valley's shoulders. Your servant, as always, Harry.” Lawrence laughed out loud and repeated, “He didn't have time!” The families gazed down with ever-growing respect on Harry's handiwork.
The construction proceeded almost at once on three projects at the same time. The new set of Bungalows, the new School House, and the Spelman's residence. This time White Feathers did gather as many carpenters and brick layers as he could find available for the jobs well beyond the forty he once kidded George over so long ago. Each crew was set to task and although the first frosts caught up with them as the Spelman's residence was being finished, all the buildings were winter-proofed already.
The School Committee and the Village Council accepted the keys to the new School House in a ceremony of much pomp and circumstance at the end of the Autumn Term. It had not been lost on any of that powerful cadre of merchants and proprietors comprising the Village Council that Lawrence Spelman was a man of extraordinarily deep pockets, with international contacts and connections, and most eye-opening to them, he was the close friend and confidant to George and Belle Livingson. It was beginning, at last, to dawn on them that the Livingsons had done more for their little village's affluence and reputation in just the last twelve years than anyone else had done during the length of the village's long history.
Lawrence and Kaitlyn moved out of their temporary homes in the Bungalows and up into the house that Harry had designed for them. Sarah, Mandy, and all the Livingsons threw a modest shivaree for the new occupants. As dusk descended they all stood on the front hanging decks and looked out toward the Tahoe. There, shimmering in the last rays of reflected sunlight and the first silvery glow of the rising moon was the river and the lake, framed by the shoulders of their little valley as if it were a scene painted by Bierstadt. Kaitlyn held her father's arm and sighed a deep sigh of utter contentment and complete joy. They were home at last.
The 'Village Players,' the name used for them by the rest of the town to refer to the Village Theatrical Society membership, began deciding in earnest what their first production should be and when they should expect to offer performances. Miss Spelman, as the de facto director and producer due to her own training with the Royal Shakespeare Company in the bard's own hometown, solicited ideas from their rolls at their next scheduled meeting in the new School House. “Please use the provided slips of paper and write down your own personal choice for our inaugural production, as well as what role you would envision yourself playing in that endeavor.”
The attendees pondered and scribbled. Before too long all the submissions were gathered up and she dismissed the meeting with the promise to provide the results of the polling two days hence when they met again. While Kaitlyn was already relatively certain which productions best suited the membership of 'the players,' she wanted to be absolutely sure the decision appeared to be the product of their own wishes. As she tallied the slips and listed the preferences, she noted with amusement that Hipolyta and Titania had each listed several plays and set themselves to all the roles attendant to them. Each of the others had made good selections, and from their personal wishes for their own roles, Kaitlyn carefully reassigned them to complimentary and fit casting selections for the play she had already chosen. She reviewed her assignments and she was satisfied that each player would welcome the favorable casting choices. When the Players met again, all were hushed in anticipation of the declaration.
“You have each proven to have high expectations for our little company, judging from the suggestions you submitted. I also must applaud your sincere estimation of your own participation in those plays.” She stopped and actually applauded, which was infectious and all of the players were soon applauding themselves for their discretion. “I have taken your thoughtful selections and have racked my brain as to what one production would best suit the combined talents of our fledgling Company.” She paused as if still in pensive meditation of the subject, then lifting a finger she commenced again, “Then it occurred to me to profit from the advice given me by the R.S.C. Artistic Director himself, 'When faced with the dilemmas of a play, play to your strengths.'”
There were nods of agreement and a sagacious wagging of heads at this. “Our strengths I estimate thus: We are eight gentlemen and five ladies, not including myself, and the population of the School to chose from for lesser, but important roles to be filled. We have a generous stage area and balcony o'er set withal, and as I know first hand through our previous workshops, each of your own various talents and abilities.” She paused, then continued, “We shall have the winter months and a bit of the spring for preparations. Therefore the inaugural production of the Village Theatrical Society shall be that same play which Shakespeare himself crafted to demand the best of his own company and elicit the greatest imagination from his audience...”
Kaitlyn's sense of the dramatic was being tested to its limit and her little company had not yet noticed in the least her own most expressive use of it. “...That most timeless celebration of the season: A MidSummer Night's Dream. How very appropriate, do you not think? Considering also our own community's native industry and reliance upon that season?” She concluded with the question, and left it to the group before her. A few looked about at the others and all were very soon enthusiastically in agreement that this was in fact an inspired choice. “Here then are your scripts; please come forward as your names are called.”
And she began, as all Shakespearian castes are begun, the male roles by rank, then the females by rank or association. “Yes, it is an interesting twist, I agree, that Hipolyta and Titania whose namesakes are the lead females of this play will not play those two characters, but shall in fact play the two male lovers: Lysander and Demetrius. That's the stage for you. No less surprising I'm sure, than my own participation as neither male nor female, in the role of Puck.”
Kaitlyn praised each cast member's strengths, and alluded directly to their own previous choice of role from the secret ballots, as she made the casting assignments and cemented their willing ownership of the choice of play and character.
Jameson laughed aloud at his own role as Bottom the Weaver. “Chef Bottom! I can just hear the kitchen staff's jokes already!”
The others laughed with him and sympathized. Theseus and Hippolyta played the dual roles of Oberon and Titania, respectively, as so many directors before her had cast them. Assigned to them were their own Mr. Avery Goodman, the handsome proprietor of the haberdashery, and Miss Mandy Hill. Then to Sarah Bunker's delight she was to nominate as many of her students as she pleased to fill the roles of an indefinite company of fairies. They set a schedule of bi-weekly rehearsals, to be increased as need be; the sets' construction was entrusted to Miss Bunker and her determinations of assistance were also set on a 'as needed' basis. Kaitlyn Spelman stayed out of the limelight to the best of her ability, allowing instead the talents and gifts of the Company to feature foremost. She directed Socratic-ly, that is by asking questions of her players and allowing them the opportunity to sort out their dilemmas and confusions, their motives and best advantages for themselves---after a fashion at any rate. Kaitlyn was still the one they each looked to for final decisions about all phases of the production, and she couldn't escape that, yet.
Harold and Chloe had no sooner settled into their new home in Pacific Heights than they were sending out announcements of a different nature. They were expecting their first child, likely to be born at the beginning of September next. Kaitlyn, with Hipolyta and Titania, made the train trip to visit the happy couple over the Easter holiday in the company of Lawrence Spelman. The reunion was a splendid affair.
The Bessamers met their guests at the ferry station and took the long way home, offering the ladies a brief tour of the City by the Bay and its admirable points of interest. When they at last arrived, Chloe showed off her new home to the admiring praises of her lady friends, while Harold and Mr. Spelman managed the baggage. “Chloe has performed all the interior design and execution herself; down to the last drawer pull and window treatment. She is a one woman design firm and contract agency, she is.” Harold crowed proudly of his treasured love. “And she won't think of having a maid, though I've told her we've enough income to afford any help she wishes.” Harold confided to Lawrence after they joined the little tour.
“I have no need of a staff,” responded Chloe, “I am more than capable of running this house. Besides, Harold is a marvelous cook and laundryman.” The ladies were impressed, and said so.
“It's second nature really,” he defended.” My father was always in the shop, and my mother was always so frail; I was relied upon to perform the majority of the household chores and duties growing up. It was a very instructive upbringing to be sure,” explained her husband.
“Very beneficial I'd say,” rejoined Chloe, “my Harold is indeed a man of many talents.” She looked to him with a most fortunate wife's admiration.
The ladies retired to the kitchen, where on this occasion Chloe was in charge of their welcoming feast. Lawrence and Harold remained in the Drawing Room with aperitifs and a smoke. “Harold this is a fine collection of trophies from your Malvern days,” remarked Mr. Spelman at the well organized assemblage before him, “But I don't recognize this item as a usual award for either athletic or daring deeds.” He stared at an arrow enfolded with two ribbons in a place of prominence over the mantle. “Is it a sculptural artifact?”
Harold simply said, “It's the Terror Trophy actually, I believe I'm the only one to have earned it. A one off, you know,” smiling broadly he refilled his guest's tumbler.
Lawrence took a seat and asked, “How has your position with the Company fared?” he seemed genuinely interested. Harold's position required the extensive employment of international connections and contacts, the very sphere of enterprise Lawrence had so recently vacated. They discussed their mutual fondness for the work itself and of Harold's being able to call upon Lawrence for any assistance he might be able to advance on his friend's behalf.
“It'd be grand to keep my hand in it, as it were.” He concluded, to the younger man's appreciation and enthusiasm for the proposal.
The few days of the visit enabled the ladies ample opportunity to walk Union Street down to the Square, peruse Gump's, to window shop, and to generally enjoy the cosmopolitan pulse of the traffic along all the neighboring streets. They visited the markets and restaurants of Chinatown where Titania and Hipolyta gazed with wonder at more Chinese proprietors and passersby than they had seen their whole lives. It was a grand opportunity to practice their own modest command of Cantonese, which both impressed and delighted the others in their group. The Bessamers promised to visit Tahoe over the coming summer and assured the three thespians they would most certainly attend the upcoming performances of Shakespeare. Fond farewells were made all around and the party was once again on the ferry then train headed home, satisfied that their friends were well-contented and settled in their new life.
White Feathers was no longer attached to the Livery. Melvin Pierce had run the operation very well indeed over his first Summer Season, and in an official transfer of ownership he and Jameson signed over the business to him. Because Melvin was unable to put any more than a meager down payment on the purchase, terms of installments were arranged and the 'keys' were passed into his hands. The keys were symbolic at best, as one 'unlocked' the Livery office which had no lock, and the other was to the medicines cabinet which did. So, White Feathers resumed command of his own free time with gusto by taking a long adventure by horse to visit some of his remaining friends in the Sierras and up into the Northern Cascades.
Kaitlyn wasn't occupied directly in the school as were Titania and Hipolyta, so her days were mostly free, and Belle included her in her every activity. They prepared the Bungalows for the upcoming season, worked the grounds for the newest bungalow's landscape needs, and more importantly Belle made quite sure that her Kaitlyn was firm in her thorough understanding of their family's most treasured resource---their training and discipline.
While they were transplanting flowers and shrubs one afternoon Belle began another conversation, “Kaitlyn, it is not enough that you know and practice; it is through living this understanding which yields the most powerful results.”
Then she told her an anecdote George had related to her long ago: “In ancient times there once was a lover of dragons. He was so fond of dragons that all his clothes had embroidered dragons, and his columns and pillars also had engraved dragons. His love of dragons was widely known, so one day a real dragon decided to visit this dragon lover. He poked his head into his home and dragged his long tail down the hall. The dragon lover saw the head and was frightened out of his wits. Turning, he ran. The real dragon finally understood that this dragon lover loved only the images of dragons but not real dragons.”
Belle continued, “Many people are convinced that they think reasonably and act honorably, but without having made any of the very efforts necessary to gain their Conscience which allows for right thoughts and actions; they are unaware of what owning their own soul actually means, nor how a person who has made the journey of a real man actually looks and behaves.”
“Harry told me a similar thing when I asked him once about why he didn't tell me about his training, after I had pestered him about the Ten Tigers my father'd seen. It was just that, Mama Belle, that brought me to my knees. I talked with Harry about everything he was willing to share with me, and I saw with my own eyes what he allowed me to see of his immense wealth of spirit and compassion. I was nothing by comparison, and I knew that condition would never change of its own accord. I found Harry fishing one afternoon and confronted him with my realization of my desperate need for guidance if I was ever to tolerate my own existence.” Belle listened, as Kaitlyn continued, “I have forced not merely my nerves and sinews to do my bidding, but I have challenged my every thought and emotion in the effort to purge what silliness and inanity might yet remain in me. Harry taught me this. He said before I began, 'I will show you the path, but you must make the journey yourself;' MamaBelle, I am making this journey and I am mindful of, and most humbly grateful to, all those who have gone before me who have made my new life possible.”
“Thank you, Kaitlyn. I have become so attached to you; I so want you to have all that I have had in my own journey.” They had stopped for a brief lunch and before they went back to the gardening, Belle walked her through the house and recited to her the stories of her own and George's ancestors, pointing out how they honored them and venerated their sagacity and far-sightedness. Kaitlyn helped her to 'tidy up' the little niches and corners dedicated to this or that forebear. When the house was thoroughly revitalized, they walked to the bungalows and returned to the landscaping for the newest additions.
Belle continued their discussion, “Remember I told that about some things Harry can be rather dense.” Kaitlyn nodded as she continued the planting. “What it amounts to is that he is near blind to the impact he makes on others. He must have his nose rubbed in it for him to recognize the results of his own efforts. He thinks that what happens around him is merely a reproduction of what he already right properly expects, and as you know yourself, he expects a lot.” Kaitlyn again nodded, and with an expression that she clearly understood. “The thing to do is to outmaneuver him,” Belle whispered as if that advice might be overheard as her revealing his achilles heel' “...knock his socks off, and on his own terms; so that he has to see it for himself, as it really is... Does that make any sense to you?” she asked, unsure if her own understanding of her son could be properly translated to the young woman next to her.
Kaitlyn was silent while she thought about what was just said, and at length sat back on her heels, wiped a stray tress from her face with the back of her hand, then answered, “He needs to see the very results of his own efforts, without his having time to reflect upon his most extensive expectations? A riddle.”
Belle agreed. “That's as good an explanation as I can think of, yes.” They finished the task at hand, gathered up their tools and went back to the house to clean up.
“I'm so relieved to have had this conversation today, Kaitlyn. I am overjoyed with the time we are able to spend together.” Belle said as they parted for the evening.
“As am I, MamaBelle, as am I,” responded Kaitlyn sincerely happy.
While thousands of miles away, Harry was finishing his penultimate term at Malvern, the Village Players readied for their opening night performance. The school house was made ready also. Folding chairs replaced desks, and large retractable draperies were installed in the proscenium arch of the stage area. A pavilion was erected at the rear side door of the building for the convenience of the players, and the final touches to the sets had just been made the day before.
Miss Bunker and a few chosen students manned the ticket booth and ushered in the arriving audience. They passed out handbills and sorted out standing arrangements for those arriving too late for seats. To Kaitlyn's great relief, knowing how amateur thespians can succumb to last minute debilitations of stage fright and other psychosomatic disturbances, the Village Players were made of sterner stuff, ready for their moment of public exposure. Costumed and made up for the stage, Kaitlyn stood in the wings prepared to send in her Theseus and Hippolyta, with Philostrate, for Act One, Scene one. Sarah Bunker walked to the front and stood just below the stage before the audience. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Friends, Relatives and Guests... Welcome. This evening inaugurates the dawning of a new age for Tahoe City. It is my privilege to introduce for your entertainment: The Village Theatrical Society's production of Shakespeare's beloved, A Mid-summer Night's Dream.” She turned and took her seat to the left of the stage and the curtain was 'raised.'
Kaitlyn took a deep breath, let it out slowly, waited for the initial applause to not quite die out, then cued the Athenian Duke and his Amazon Bride. No turning back, no regrets, no Kaitlyn. There was now only the Athenian nobility, the workmen, the lovers, and the faerie world of the stage. For a bit over three hours, not including the intermission, the Players, as so many before them had, drew the audience into that other world of their own imagination. When after they had raged with the aggrieved father, cried with the injustices of love gone awry, laughed at the absurdities of the ass and the faerie queen and the grand paradoxes of the mechanics' play; Puck stood before them with the curtain drawn down behind