NO REALLY, IT WAS INCREDIBLE  
                           by Edith Einstein  

No really, it was incredible, absolutely beyond the realm of words, it just can't be explained!  

How dare you ask me to degrade the highest, most sacred of all experiences into base language! Words, symbols, mere trinkets compared to what I felt.  

It was like everything I ever did or ever will do compressed into one single crystal like moment and then -  

Really! Must I explain? If you don't understand me you never will, why do you persist?  

No, definitely not, it's out of the question.  

It was the highest possible experience someone could feel and yet live. No words can convey the essence of it.  

You sit there expecting something from words. . .  

Ha! Empty symbols, soulless and stagnant with no other power than to fool one into accepting a dummy, a replacement, in exchange for ultimate reality experienced in tri-dimensional space together with acceptance and acknowledgement of the parallel universe in unity with and supported by everything existing all at once outside the realm of time.  

And you think you can understand? Ha! Those that talk don't know, and those that know don't talk. There! that ought to prove it.  

Go ahead if you want you pervert - divide eternity by desire thus deriving the simple quotient of 'time' call it a 'life' and use this cheap device as a fixed reference  point to perceive reality from. It won't help - many have tried.

What are you trying to do? Sneak in the back door of eternity using words for a key?  

No way - it's impossible - you can't jimmy the lock of the Lord. God does not play dice with Stephen Hawking!  

Why you swine! You dog! By what right?  

No! Really! It was incredible. . .I've never felt anything like it before, and I don't think I'll feel anything like it ever again, and yet. . .I remain in this state. . .beyond the realm of words. . .beyond the grasp of ordinary mortals... You. . .you worshipper of false idols! Away with you!

One can no more expect to derive something from words than one can expect a donkey to sing. It's patently absurd.  

Leave your old and petrified professors, your dry and lifeless books, your empty and fruitless words, and listen to me: words will never help - it's a foolish cul-de-sac. Really. . .it was incredible, so incredible that when I felt it I was sure that the whole universe was also simultaneously aware of it, and that anyone who spoke afterwards would certainly be branded as a liar and a fraud.  

Can't you learn to be silent? Can't you accept that the truth cannot be told? Won't you ever learn?  

I mean...after all that is the secret. You can have it, you can be it, but it can't be used for anything. In fact it's absolutely useless! In fact the whole universe is created by that which is useless! The whole universe depends on that which is unnecessary! There is no necessity. It all comes from -  

Forget it! Just forget it! It just can't be explained!
Go home, go out to your own backyard, go for a walk in nature. There you'll be free from the chain of words that binds you. Maybe then you'll feel it - 'The Silent Moment', and when you do - I hope you'll remember everything I've said.

 

*The exact translation of 'E=Mc˛'as found in the dictionary is: E [Einstein] = [is] M [the smartest man] c [that ever] ˛ [lived]. ______________________________________________________
 . . . .I don't expect any of you listened to that gibberish, but used your time wisely as I did, to grab a bite to eat, or to visit the E and M rooms.

WHEN WE LAST LEFT OUR HERO: He was just about to voice his judgment - but was stopped by the audacity of a young village woman.

He spent a sleepless night in a low rate motel on the outskirts of town. Near dawn he'd received a call from police headquarters saying that they'd recovered his microphone.  

He immediately hailed a cab and flew down to the station house.  

The police had found the woman 500 years ago in a Spanish town burning books in the village square. They brought her down to the station house for interrogation, asking her why she hated words so much, but she had refused to talk.

I thanked the policemen and left with my microphone - but I stopped at the door - hearing the cries of the raging woman thrashing behind the bars. I asked the policemen if I could have a word with her?

They readily agreed, hoping I'd have some kind of calmative effect on her. 

Stepping up to her cell I said. "Look, I've got to ask you one thing. . .O.K.?. . .Did you really understand what I said? Enough to get flaming mad about it?"  

She calmed down a bit then said: "Yes I understand, but I'm a good woman, I'm Albert's wife, and with us it's always been E and M, none of this '=' business!"  

Understanding her, my voice softened. I touched her gently on the shoulder and said: "Sorry Edith, but the times they are a changin."  

"Oh - you're Mr. Big are you? Bigger than Albert - and here you are using someone else's words!" She sneered.  

"O.K! I was just trying to be kind, but I see it doesn't work, so I'll put it to you straight - It's the end of time - there's no time left - and if people like you keep stealing my microphone I just might not start it again!"  

"Ha-Ha! I'm not worried. In the beginning was the word - and there's no chance of you shutting up!"  

"Did, I ever tell you, that I once, very seriously, considered taking, an oath, of silence?"  

"I don't believe you  

"It's - true."  

"What happened?"  

"The glacier period in pre-history. After a while I just couldn't stand the  cold, so I went to a town hall meeting and spoke up about it."  

I said good-bye to her [after putting in a word with the policemen to go easy on her] then I walked out of the station.  

Then I went back to my own headquarters on top of the mountain to make some quiet deductions. . . . . . . going back to the thought I awoke with 2 days ago: 'Time is relative to a fixed point and the fixed point is = , I thus deduced:  

Seeing as I'm impartial - time is now relative to me.

For the last 2000 years time has been relative to Jesus Christ.  

But it's time for the New Age, it's got to be started, it can't 'just happen'. 

Time will be counted from this point.<---  

          They'll be 'before this point' and 'after this point'.  

The purpose of marking the beginning point or New Year's point is the same as locating magnetic north on a compass. It's a guide and relocation point in case anybody gets lost.

And I've got to think of something other than B.C. and A.D.  

And I don't feel like just calling it the New Age or The Age Of Aquarius. No, I'm far too proud to let it go at that. . .  

So I guess it's about time I introduced myself: I AM HE WHO WAS - DIDN'T -THOUGHT BETTER OF IT - AND DID SOMETHING ELSE. I AM THE END - I NEVER STARTED - AMEN!  

. . .oh sure. . .that's a great guide. . .as good as a boy scout's compass. NEXT -

Well...I could state the exact date. . . 

Or time could be marked from 'THE STORY'. . .hmm. . .sounds warmer, at least it's back in the cultural department. How would that sound. . .before his story and after his story?

A: "Oh man, that happened before his story!"  

B: "You mean, it's not valid?"  

A: "No, only what happened after his story is valid. Only historic

       things."  

B: "Why's that?"  

A: "Well, it's obvious isn't it? Because he's the guy that made his story.

        Before that  his story didn't exist. History's a relatively new

        concept."  

B: "Oh - I see."

Well. . .I see plenty of fresh talent there, and I'm glad you all could make it. . . but. . .I think I'll shelve it for the moment and get back to the other big point: That this creation will be conscious, and everything will be wanted, will come from love, 'will be'.  

They'll be no test-tube babies, abortions, miscarriages, bastards, or son of a bitches this time.  

And since the beginning will be conscious - the end will be conscious. Meaning: the end will not be unconscious.  

And since I'm the beginning and the end - I'll now read all your palms, look in my christall ball, read you the astrology forecast for the next 2000 years, tell you the fate of a spark of the sun, a chip off the 'ole block -  

You will all come 'HERE' in a wooden box or with your boots on. Everyone's fate is to 'be human' one way or the other. For those that make it there's free will.  

You may ask at this point: "By what right?. . ." and: "Who the hell does he think he is to go imposing his will on poor innocent people who have their own wills and own lives to live etc.etc.?"  

So, I'll tell you - For me it's pre-history, the glacier period, the desert period, primal element time, and I see nothing out there at all except a perfectly clean white artist's canvas, and if I see anything at all it's 10 zillion suckers saying: "Do everything for me", and I reply as any self respecting artist would in front of a popcorn and tomato throwing audience - with the best 'Ed Sullivan' diplomacy I can muster I say: "What an exciting package we've put together for you kids tonight!"  

Now. . .I'll tell you a little more how it is to be out in the desert for 40 years, or to be locked into the ice age for an eternity -  

At 1st - it takes forever just trying to calm yourself down to the point you see no evil and have no complaints.

Then - it takes forever figuring out a way to be cheerful and optimistic - when there's nothing out there at all.  

And after taking forever and ever you finally figure it out - since there's nothing out there - then it must be all inside of you.  

Then one fine Spring morning you wake up feeling like a ripe tomato, you go outside, you see heat waves radiating off the desert floor, light rays glinting and gleaming off the glacial peaks, reflecting, deflecting, criss-crossing this way and that, and because you're in the 'best of spirits' you imagine that it's a 'Welcome To Hollywood' sign, or the World throwing a welcome home party for you. [of course you're suffering from severe delusions of grandeur and it's just the archetypical desert mirage - therefore you must take it seriously]  

And there - dead ahead - standing on the horizon waiting for the sun to go down - you see a neon sign lit up and it says: 'Last Chance Saloon'.

You search yourself to discover that you've just 1 last silver dollar. It's always been with you - through all the years in the desert, a momento, a charm, a piece of the world. You don't even know whether it's accepted as legal currency anymore.  

You rub it up to a dull shine on your faded jeans and devise a plan. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  

Then - after 40 years [plus 1 eternity] you stumble out of the desert and through the swinging doors of the Last Chance Saloon - a thin cigar smoking out of the side of your mouth -  

You see before you an ongoing poker game, 5 card straight - nothing wild -  

You pay your 1 silver dollar ante - the game begins - your hand is dealt -  

You don't even look at your cards - because you know already what they say. They're the only cards that you've ever been dealt - time and time again. And besides - your mind is made up - you've decided to bluff your way through to eternity -

And just as the game reaches it's peak, and there's as much money on the table as possible and as many players in the game as can be - YOU TURN THE TABLES ON THEM AND YOU SAY: "As there happen to be 10 zillion suckers out there saying: 'Do everything for me' - all right - I call your hands!"  

"I AM - RELAX - EVERYTHING'S UNDER CONTROL - ONLY MY WILL EXISTS . WHEW! - I'M - RELIEVED - I'M MYSELF AGAIN - EVERYTHING DEPENDS ON ME. I'M HAPPY I'M YOUR KID - I'M THE BEGINNING AND THE END - ALL MY SUFFERING'S BEHIND ME."

So. . . . . . .thus constating to myself that I now knew everything - I poured myself my 3rd and final cup of coffee and packed my bags for the descent. I was now ready to return to my hometown a reformed citizen, and sit next to Joe and Ed at the drugstore soda fountain counter, have a coke, and smirk along with them that: 'E=Mc˛ - all's right in the world - God's in Heaven - and all children are happy'.

                 

Epilogue: Genisis - the part in the Bible where God walks back into the Garden.

Word From The Author : If you think that this material may be dangerous in the hands of the Russians or the Japanese, or that I should be kidnapped and forced to work for your scientific institute for $1,000,000 a week and ride around in bullet-proof limousines then - TAKE A BREAK - go down to your local cafe - order yourself a coke [I'll try to pay for it no matter where I am or what I'm doing at the moment] and RELAX: I'm just Joe Blow from New Jersey and my best girl said she didn't feel anything. What would you do?  

Story Continued
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