The way of the owl

"Hold tension among opposites and patiently wait for thusness to arise. This is the way of the owl."

Bobby started to feel nausea. He has always despised vomiting. As a child, he would drink copious amounts of water to dilute the acidic taste in the mouth which portends vomit. He imagined the bulk of water weighing on the acid reflux. Pushing down whatever was wanting to come up back to where it belongs. Down there. Digested. Defecated. Got rid of, in private. Never to see the light of day.

"Hold the tension lightly at every moment. With playful curiosity. At times with intense scrutiny. Stay with it. Listen. Feel each peak. Every trough. Neither run ahead nor fall behind. Stay with the spot. No matter how painful or pleasurable it may be. This is the way of the owl."

Bella was feeling pressure emanating outwards from her solar plexus. She felt her body like an over pressurised hot air balloon about to burst. She felt electricity rampaging wildly throughout her body. The lightning electricity fractally branching down her inner thighs felt so good. So good she wanted to break down and cry. But she could not. "You're too much." "Don't be a slut." Voices of her decorum committee were at it again. Always keeping her down to size.

"The felt sense of becoming in one's particular body. This is the way of the owl."

"They" the pronoun Tryst chose on their fourteenth birthday only seem apt. Inside Tryst felt a tug of war between what she was to what he could be. In between. Oscillating. Unsettling. This transformation can be unnerving yet at the same time super exciting.

Bobby, Bella and Tryst, a melange of 21st-century human genetics, phenomics and memetics are in ceremony and ritual of the 'now' yearning to reach far back into the distant indigenous, archaic past. See the rich web of history, conditions and causality that situated them in each of their uniqueness. Aching to see possible futures. Some desirable. Others disowned. The present is never just the present. It co-arises conditioned and reciprocally caused by pasts and futures.

The owl's face was heart-shaped, white as snow. Her almond eyes piercing, unflinching. Her beak is like the prominent noses of the Atreidai.

Bobby immediately sensed the miasma. The smell of decaying flesh hovering in the fog surrounding the city like a sensorium of death and despair. Bobby's body felt so weak. It was a miracle he was still able to walk even at a snail's pace. As he walked he could hear whimpers of the frail and elderly, whispered prayers of the young and terrified, and wailing of the afflicted.

As he rounded a corner, Bobby looked up from staring at the grimy cobbled stone pavement. That's when he saw the unmissable uniform that covered the doctor from head to toe. Goat leather hat and gloves. The dark long overcoat glimmers, shiny with fragrant wax. The distinctive mask with a long bird-like beak housing the 55 herbs comprising the theriac, the doctor's proclaimed line of defence against the disease. The doctor's eyes peer out of rounded spectacles. He inspected bodies strewn on the pavement. Poking the dead with a fancy decorated rod. The doctor fended off the barely alive who lunged at him simply begging for a cure. "de Lorme be damned!" Bobby muttered. The arrogance of this performative display of competence to hide the incompetence made Bobby sick down to his gut.

The owl hunts in the dead of night. In the darkness, she swoops down to catch her prey without making a sound. She is awake when many are asleep. She knows what she wants and gets it with minimal aplomb.

Bella recognised the smells of the barn. The moist, warm, salty-sweet smell of hay. The musky smell of horses. She could feel her heart racing. Not just her chest but her belly, her thighs, her legs, her sacred spot were all buzzing like a flowering Melaleuca tree besotted by swarms of native bees. Bella had to feel her way around in the dark. She could not risk being seen had she lit the lamp she was carrying. She had to navigate by the feel and memory of this place. This dark place, hidden in the night, where she and he are free to explore each other. Body and soul. Sweat and tears. The alabaster of her skin in tight embrace with the ebony of his. There is something Bella finds so delectable in their forbidden union. Her body yearns for it. At the same time, her heart breaks every time she remembers how he and his kin have suffered so much at the hands of hers.

The owl is patient. She waits for the right moment. Never too early. Never late. Just on time.

Tryst stares blankly at the screens surrounding the control deck. They scanned with their peripheral awareness the emotional valence of everyone in the room. The tension in the air felt so tight one could slice it with a samurai. Life after life Tryst have trained for this singular moment. They sit at the centre of the brewing storm of humans and their machines. Each moment, every action or inaction counts. "It's time." As Tryst reached with their supermind to connect with every sentience in the ship. After minds in the command ship achieved coherence, they reached out to connect with other ships in the quadrant. From one quadrant to another. From one star system to another. In mindful silence. Ready to lose their lives to defend life. While the hill-climbing aspect of Tryst's mind holds the entelechy steady with superhuman will and resolve, their valley-crossing aspect frantically searches for alternate timelines, scanning a combinatorial explosion of possibilities in the hope of finding one, just one, a path where billions do not have to die.

The smell of frankincense, vetiver, lavender, cedarwood and northern lights black spruce signalled to the three that it was time to return. The sounds of the yidaki, medicine drum and rattle called them back into their biological bodies. They started to vary the rhythm of their breaths. They started to wiggle their toes. Slowly they moved parts of their bodies. When each of them was ready they opened their eyes. They smiled. They were surrounded by their tribe who smiled back at them. At this point of return, no words were needed. What they received with much gratitude was a loving touch on their chest, belly, arms and legs. As they slowly got up, their friends and kin offered them rose water, chocolate and grapes.

"Walk pasts and futures to be more present. This is the way of the owl."