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| [n0by@yahoogroups.com] Message 2155 of 2167 From: Sarah Moore <sarahmoore@.......> Date: Tue Nov 18, 2003 12:02 am Subject: to noby ramarshi kabeer celtic moon et al - love from oz Dear Noby, ramarshi, ka-beer, celticmoon and all, sorry ramarshi for not answering your letter yet, i'll get to it soon, but in the meantime: I have a fantasy scene in my mind, when it comes to noby and the group currently. The scene is a dim-lit bar in the back streets of Munich. It is one of those places where all sorts of things can go on, but it is also tasteful in an old-fashioned way. It has ivy draped over the front door, whitewashed walls and oak interior, brews some of its own beer. It is of course partly owned and operated by the bar-tender, Ka-Beer, who dispenses beer and the occasional wisdom with equal panache and alacrity. The customers here tonight are a motley lot. Lying on the floor in the corner is a large walrus. His thick hide is flecked with tiny drops of blood and occasionally he snarls from the corner 'I've been banned again, my worst nightmare it keeps repeating itself. They don't love me enough. Son of a perpetrator, I'm a victim again. I hate the mother-f...ckers, I'll snarl and snarl and snarl at them banning me from their closed groups.' He pauses miserably to lick his wounds. 'what did I do? I loved them and they banned me. I hate them all now, and they'll pay. I'll never stop complaining and chasing their arse till they give in and roll over in exhaustion. Can't they see that even a walrus needs love now and then?' |
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Ka-Beer sighs wearily as he wipes another beer glass. 'give it up, nobywalrus, old friend', he advises. 'can't you see the pattern recurring?' Just enjoy another beer - come you can have one on the house. And don't play any longer with ramarshi, his sabre sword cuts fleshwounds too deep for a slow old walrus like you.'. Two flash characters enter the bar at this point. One is Ramarshi, dressed in immaculate and slightly oriental-looking silver armour with a sword by hia side. It is slightly stained from his previous wars on egos all over the city. He pounds on the bar. 'A beer, Ka-Beer, my friend, please and make it large and cold' i/ve been working hard today. The other is a gorgeous lady dressed in flowing robes. Her long dark hair cascades down her back. She too wears some armour, beautifully patterned and obviously of ancient design. Her name is of course 'Celtic Moon Warrior'. |
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She seats herself daintily at the bar, asks for a guiness, and surveys the scene with amused interest. Finally her gaze takes in the walrus in the corner. 'oh noby' she says, 'I warned you too, but, although you cannot see it now, these wounds are good for you. Learn what you can from the encounter and grow bigger and fatter. Soon you will make a great pet for my mansion in Wales.' Ramarshi hmmmphs. 'It's too late for noby' he says to all and sundry. He is one of the old walruses. There is no room in the new world for such as him. He was too thick for my constellations. He failed the test and now he dies miserably in the corner. I have no compassion any more for such as he. My constellations are only for those that can hack the pace, the rest are too thick to absorb the lessons of the field, the Buddha-field in which my constellations are cast'. |
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Ka-Beer has been listening to all this, still and silent behind the bar, apart from occasionally pulling a beer for another customer. His bald dome glints in the dull light of the bar, his forearms ripple with muscles from years of hard work, his countenance shows the wisdom of much suffering in the ego-bars of the world. 'You won't drag me into any games, guru-games or not' is his mantra. And he is wise, his customers would do well to listen to his occasional insights into their world. But after all he is only a bar-tender and who listens to such as he. He has not the glitter of the guru-types that flash and strut their stuff in this bar each night, expounding the wisdom of the ages to their flocks of eager acolytes. Ka-Beer generally keeps his counsel on such types - after all the disciples do buy a lot of beer for their master and themselves - but occasionally he mutters darkly to himself as he pulls a pint. And if a young freshfaced beautiful female disciple seeks his counsel he dispenses it with generosity, even whilst knowing that she will have to seek her own path and fall for the traps and baubles of the spiritshool path until she learns the hard lessons he has learnt in his long and interesting life. Sarah enters the bar, dusty from travelling, panting with exhaustion and absolutely hanging out for a good german beer. 'Ka-Beer!, Noby!', she cries. 'How lovely to see you again. I've traveled all the way around the world just to drink in this bar with you guys.' Ploy over for scabbing a free beer off her mate, Ka, she curtseys to Ramarshi and CelticMoon. 'and you guys, what an honour to finally meet'. |
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They all shake hands and drink a beer, although a snuffle occasionally escapes from the walrus and he still has a surly, beaten countenance. Ramarshi is polite here among company for once, but occasionally his hand strays to the pommel of his sword, and he is obviously not too far off whipping it out and cutting heads off if need be. Eventually the conversation comes around to constellations between Sarah and Ramarshi. 'hey, she says enthusiastically, how about we set one up here in the bar. Lets have a look at the stuff between you and Noby, and see if there is compassion in the field for him. After all the victims and perpetrators do meet in constellation work and embrace in the field'. We can choose reps from the other drinkers, if these flash guru-types would stoop so low. One for you ramarshi, one for noby, one for the New Man, one for the Old Man, one for Nazi Germany, one for the Buddha field'. How bout it?' |
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'oh sarah, none of this false compassion' states Ramarshi. 'Noby is finished, chop his head off I say. You are clearly too starry-eyed, too new to this game, to think a constellation would resolve his problems, or even the interactions in our group. The best thing for him is to put him out of his misery, no constellation could help that fellow'. Noby whimpers again in the corner. Sarah goes over and starts to pat him, and, unable to abandon her doctor training, to examine and treat his wounds. |
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She eyes Ramarshi, clearly touched by his handsomeness, but nonetheless compelled to beg him for compassion, and less world-weariness. 'at least let us try' she says. 'i've seen miracles in constellations before, I have a great deal of faith in the field. And if it fails, well Munich is beautiful, I've met you all finally, I can learn some constellation work from a master constellationer, and have conversation and good beer with my german (and now Irish - as she lifts her glass in homage to the beautiful Celtic Moon - ) friends'. To be continued, or maybe the group could speculate on an ending... Love to all sarah |
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