Who Dad?!

First Trip to Outer Space

My first trip away from Earth was smoother than expected. Ivy's vessel seemed to quietly glide through the gravitational field. But the most amazing thing was the view. There were no windows: the very surface of this space ship could shift to allow its passengers to see in any direction. It was breathtakingly stunning. No matter what was waiting for me at the end of the ride, it will have been worth it just for those truly spectacular glimpses.

For the first time, I wished I had a phone that could take photos and video. There's no way anyone was going to believe this. I asked Ivy if she could take some selfies of us moving through the solar system. I got the look again that suggested she had overestimated my intelligence. I shrugged and changed the subject.

"You once said something about preparing me for a long time. What did you mean?"

"It was a vibrational necessity for being able to host my captain's consciousness."

"Uh, okay, but can you give me an example, please?"

"Yes. In fact, I will recite to you in your own words and voice what you yourself wrote about such a moment."

"Wait! What?" But Ivy had already started.

I had come to do some barefoot yoga at a secluded grassy spot. Although it was not even 50 degrees, the sun had enough warmth for me to take off my sweatshirt and t-shirt.

Cold, you see, had long been associated for me with feeling the withholding/withdrawing of a birth mother's love. While stretching and centering myself, I was feeling my way back into my body, into the present, and okay with what is. It didn't take that long, which is how I measure the success of past work.

When finished, I put my top layers back on and was making my way to a bench where I could wipe the dirt from my feet before putting socks and shoes back on. It was then I saw a large hawk perched on a rock wall between two sections of a pond. I stopped and stared.

The hawk stared back. Well, who would blink and move first? I waited a long time before inching closer. It accepted each small step. Wow! This was new territory. Usually, either the watcher or the watched would break the spell somehow. I noticed my desire to not be the one that ended it, even though I wanted to see it take off in flight too.

My feet were cold and on shaded ground. My goal was to get to where I could sit in the sun. My thought about the hawk was that it was doing exactly that: it had found a sunny spot and didn't want to leave it unless it had to. The night and early morning had been freezing.

I made it to some steps where I slowly sat down while humming what I thought to be a friendly sound. We were unbelievably close to each other. My humming turned softly into a surrender song as I remembered how hawks once signified something for me. Now able to see its coloration and feather texture, I wondered if it was actually a prairie falcon and not a hawk. If it flew, I'd know, but I forced myself to resist the temptation to startle it into flight.

It had been some time since I felt myself in such sacred space. Grateful and restored, I was the one to eventually leave, and, I did so without disturbing the one still perched exactly as I found it.

Imagine someone reading your words to you in your own voice! And, doing so while piloting a craft in outer space.

"That was you?"

"Yes. One of many such moments for slowing your mind, raising your awareness, and bringing your attention to the present. Most recently, I was the coyote in the park. Shall I read what you wrote about that?"

"Don't bother. I remember. I just don't understand. How?"

"ZARDs are designed to be able to take any shape or form and communicate with all conscious energy."

"But, my writing? My voice?!"

Again, the look, but this time she responded. "To better understand you, I have uploaded all of your electronic files. And, I can alter frequencies to recreate any sound I have heard."

"I think I love you, Ivy."

"What concept of love are you referring to in that statement?"

I couldn't answer. I felt linguistically bankrupt talking to a being like Ivy. She, however, let me off the hook by giving me a history lesson.

"Did you know Sanskrit had 96 words for love? Ancient Persians had 80. The Greeks narrowed it to primarily six categories. Your civilizations have been moving in the wrong direction when it comes to utilizing a nuanced language for understanding, expressing, and nurturing a much wider range of connection."

As she spoke, I felt sad about how we had limited the possibilities of being intimate. It felt as if something like the efficiency of the assembly line had removed the creative craft of humans discovering and forming more varied and satisfying relationships with each other.

As an old teacher, I tried to imagine what it would be like if we had added these languages of love to the curriculum? What if we had studied all the ways people historically bonded with each other? Might that not have energized education? And, what kind of a ripple effect would more connections between people then have had on loneliness, depression, suicide, bullying, domestic abuse, drug abuse, binge eating and drinking, road rage, and gun violence?

Ivy tapped me on the head to bring me back.

"Why are you always tapping my head?!"

"It is efficient and useful."

"But what are you doing?"

"Just then, bringing your attention back to the present. You have a tendency to get lost in there."

I laughed. Our time together was like nothing I had ever experienced. With space as our background, she answered any and every question I could think of asking her. And, along the way, Ivy explained more about how the thoughts of Earth's inhabitants had been altered by the Alternate Reality Simulator. It helped me understand why history, science, and logic no longer seemed to matter on Earth. Truth had become whatever one wanted to believe. It explained why it had become so difficult to listen to, let alone understand, another person.

"Why? How could messing up our planet benefit anyone?"

Ivy was patient in her attempts at illustrating how everything was connected and how unraveling reality anywhere could potentially unravel what allowed the galaxy to function within collective agreements.

"Again, why would anyone want that to happen?"

"What my Captain surmised was that boredom was the motivation for the conspiracy."

I was still getting my head around that the organizing principle for intelligent life in the galaxy, and its most powerful agency, was all about tourism and gambling. Now this.

"Boredom? You've got to be kidding me!"

I received another puzzled look from Ivy in response.

"Right. You don't kid."

"Your father speculated that some beings with long lifespans whose needs and desires were easily met, had so few challenges, became bored with just gambling on the future,  perhaps hungered for the uncertainty and excitement of the unpredictable and the unknown. It was his theory."

Right in front of us was a large unnatural object. We had arrived at the galactic medical station.