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Johann and the Supernatural Compass

When Albert received the twelve gem brass compass from his father Hermann I wondered where did the compass come from? What if it were a supernatural compass? More than a direction finder, maybe the compass could help Albert in his quest to know the secrets of the universe?
Johann in Einstein’s Compass is a young boy I created to be Albert’s friend and companion. They will have many exciting adventures when evil doppelganger, dragon Raka from another time chases them through the story for Albert’s treasured compass.
#adventure #timetravel #scifi #einstein

Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure Kindle $2.99

Fall 1885
A Friend

Albert’s father was a partner in his brother Jacob’s gas and electric supply company. One day, he took Albert to see an electrical lighting system the company had installed. The customer, Frederick Thomas, owned a local brewery, Munich Brau. The reason Hermann had dragged Albert along was that Thomas had a son, Johann, who was Albert’s age. Both boys would soon begin first grade, and Hermann thought it would be good for the shy Albert to know at least one boy in his class.

Albert did not want to go with his father; he preferred the familiar routines at home. Being out in new places caused him to shut off inside. When the boys were introduced, Albert just stared at the floor and went into his own inner world. He thought boys his age were dull. He wanted to be alone.

Hermann forced a smile onto his lips. He reached down and shook Albert’s shoulder. “Come, Albert, Johann wants to show you the new lights in the barn.”

Albert knew his papa would not like it if he did not do as he suggested, so, reluctantly, his eyes still down, the reluctant guest shuffled over to Johann, wishing he could escape.

Unfazed by Albert’s shyness, Johann encouraged him with a broad grin. “Wait ’til you see the lights! C’mon, I’ll race you to the barn.” Whooping, Johann burst out the kitchen door and ran toward the barn. Albert rolled his eyes. He ambled along, making his way across the yard.

Impatient, Johann bounced on his toes as he waited near the barn door for his guest. When Albert finally arrived, Johann flung open the barn door. Running inside, he jumped up onto a wooden box, reaching for a switch on the wall. “It’s amazing to see,” he said as he flipped the switch. In a moment, incandescent light flooded the spacious barn. The smell of fresh hay and saddle soap met Albert’s nose. He noticed wooden beer barrels, stacked bales of hay, and horse carriages.

Unimpressed by the lighting, Albert pointed to the incandescent bulb and went into lecture mode. “When electrical current passes through a wire, it causes the wire to heat. The wire gets so hot that it glows and gives off light.”

Johann looked at Albert in surprise, his blue eyes dancing with amazement. He could not believe what he was hearing. “How do you know that?”

This boy is interested in this? Albert thought to himself. Albert relaxed a bit and began to explain, encouraged that he seemed to have impressed Johann. “Papa takes me to work with him. He teaches me about electricity. He and my uncle want me to learn the lighting business and apprentice with them.”

“No kidding?” Johann asked with obvious interest. “Is that what you want to do?”

Albert shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it could be okay.”

Johann nodded, becoming thoughtful. “I know what you mean. My papa has plans for my brothers and me to take over the brewery. But I don’t know if I want to do that, either.” Another smile lit up Johann’s face. “Hey, I know. I’ll become a great brewer, and you can electrify all my breweries!”

Albert had to smile. Johann’s friendliness and enthusiasm were infectious. Without warning, a lightbulb went off in the electrical expert’s head. “Wait for a second,” Albert said, tugging at a chain around his neck, pulling something out of his linen shirt. “Want to see something exciting?”

“More interesting than electric lights? You bet!” Johann nodded eagerly.

As Albert dangled a brass object on a silver chain, Johann’s eyes grew large. “Wow, what is that?”

“It’s a compass. My father gave it to me. Have you ever seen one before?”

Shaking his head, Johann guided Albert over to a bale of hay, and the two boys sat. “I haven’t,” Johann said, mesmerized by the fantastic device. “What does it do?”

Albert held out the gleaming brass compass with the twelve sparkling gems. So, Johann could see it better, he opened the top and rotated the compass. “See how the needle always points north no matter how I move the case?” His bright, brown eyes twinkled as the mystery of the unknown captured his soul. “Someday, I will understand why it does that.”

Johann’s blue eyes grew even more extensive. Not only had he never seen a compass before, he had never seen anything like it. Amid this fantastic day, Johann paused in thought. He had two older brothers, Francis and Daniel, who worked in the brewery, but they never talked like Albert did. His father, Frederick, a Lutheran, said the Einstein’s were Jewish. Maybe that was the reason he knew so much.

Albert surrendered himself to the moment. He found himself trusting his charming and friendly companion, and he allowed Johann to hold his cherished prize. Johann opened and closed the clasp. “Hey, come on!” said Johann, jumping to his feet. Their eyes glued to the compass, the two boys marched around the barn and watched the needle.

Content with their first parade, they returned to their seats on the hay bale and Johann returned the compass. Albert closed his eyes and held his precious gift to his chest. “Oh, I love my compass, and I love my Papa, who gave it to me.” The compass tingled against Albert’s chest. From inside the compass, a shimmer of light burst then radiated out about ten inches all around Albert’s hand. Albert felt the unexpected warmth and opened his eyes to find a rainbow projecting from the gems. Above the compass floated a three-dimensional number 33. Johann, struck with wonder, squealed, “Look at that!”

Albert threw his hands up in surprise, dropping the compass onto the straw floor.

The boys sat mesmerized for what seemed like an eternity.

Behind them, the barn door opened. Papa Hermann hollered into the barn, “Albert, say goodbye to Johann! Your mama has dinner waiting.”

Albert snatched up the enchanted instrument and looked earnestly at his new friend. “Johann, you must never tell anyone what happened today. You promise?”

Speechless, Johann nodded his compliance.

Bonded by a special secret, neither boy had any inkling what a vital role the compass would play in the adventure of their lives.

Do You Have The Courage of an Einstein?

Is it “cool to be cruel”? Our culture today is suffering from cancel culture and bad behavior on social media. Why?

Einstein received a lot of personal attacks in his life. What would do if you were attacked like this?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Albert Einstein was never always famous. Born a Jew, he attended a Catholic school where he faced bullies daily chanting words of antisemitism. At age 16 his parents moved to Italy without him. Left alone, he had no one to help him face the brutal torture of his teachers and peers. When he graduated from college, his professors refused to give him referrals to find a job. What did Albert have that kept him going? A compass his father gave him when he was a boy. The compass was more than a direction finder. It became a dream, his moral code to stay on course to discover what is time, what is light. Albert had courage, the heart to continue his journey, no matter who stood in his way or what tried to stop him. In this time of darkness, find your spiritual compass. Maybe you too can change the world.

Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure

October 1894
Called to Task

As Albert secured his bicycle at the side entrance of the Gymnasium and took his books from the basket mounted in front of the handlebars, he wondered what the Benedictine monks thought of a Jewish boy attending their prestigious boarding school.

Dressed in a stylish charcoal wool suit, Albert walked toward the front of the building. Mounting the steps, he took off his inky, short-brimmed, felt bowler hat and smoothed back his unruly chestnut hair. He was late. Again. But he didn’t care.

Dwarfed by the tall Doric columns, he kept his eyes on the ground. He didn’t even glance at the long wall scroll with the Bavarian monks’ black-and-gold coat of arms that hung above him. Albert’s pace slowed. I am not looking forward to another day of boredom with these dullards.

At sixteen and standing five feet nine, Albert was not an imposing figure. The mild expression on his face hid the firestorm of rage that brewed in his mind. Day after day, the same thing.

This rote memorizing hurts my brain. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Albert let his thoughts drift to his mother and father. He missed his family.

Melancholy came over him as he remembered their goodbyes in early summer. His parents left him with his aunt and uncle so they could pursue work in Italy. He had loved his life before they went. Now, he was stuck in classes where the boys were studying things that he had mastered years earlier. His guardians, unfortunately, were not as understanding as his parents about Albert’s boredom.

Albert stopped next to a column and leaned against it, remembering his initial discovery of the magic of mathematics. He had been only around twelve when Max Talmud, a family friend and struggling medical student, visited the Einstein’s for Shabbat one Friday and gave Albert a gift that changed his life. It was a mathematics book called Simple Algebra, and it opened new worlds to Albert, who at the time was in Folkenshuler elementary school. Albert mastered the text by himself and would delight in surprising Max with how much he had learned since the previous Shabbat.

For Albert, Simple Algebra was like a prayer book. He remembered his wonderment as the book began stimulating questions in his mind. Each problem became a puzzle to solve. Life was a series of “Xs” he decided, a series of unknowns.

Albert forced himself out of his reverie and reluctantly resumed his walk to class. He entered the classroom and glanced over at his friend, Johann. The teacher, Herr von Achen, was writing on the blackboard, his back to the class. Von Achen was a rigid and disciplined man on whom forty resembled sixty. His eyes were a bleak gray behind gold-rimmed spectacles, and he wore a perpetual frown under his balding head.

“The ‘late’ Herr Einstein,” taunted Werner von Wiesel as Albert made his way to his seat. Werner was his usual obnoxious self. The boys in the class would have laughed at the play on words, but they had heard this phrase numerous times already from Von Wiesel. His entourage did manage a weak guffaw as Albert slid into his seat.

Von Achen turned and frowned. “Enough, Herr von Wiesel,” he said in a halfhearted admonishment. Albert, who often challenged Herr von Achen, was far from the teacher’s favorite student. Additionally, Von Achen didn’t want to antagonize the son of Colonel von Wiesel, one of Munich’s substantial citizens.

With a disapproving glare at Albert, Von Achen began the lesson. “Today, we will discuss mathematical treatment of astronomy, Newton’s development of celestial mechanics and the laws of gravitation. Does everyone have their textbook?” Several of the boys nodded, taking out their copies of Josef Krist’s Essentials of Natural Science.

Albert raised his hand. “With all due respect, Herr von Achen, what does astronomy have to do with physics?”

Murmurs and grumbles rippled through the classroom. Werner rolled his eyes, moaning, “Not again… Einstein, do you have to do this?”

Albert stood his ground. “My interest is in learning physics. Astronomy is a waste of my time.”

Herr von Achen turned and glared at Albert. “As part of this course, we are covering the five branches of natural science: astronomy, biology, chemistry, the Earth sciences, and physics. You are to learn a broad range of subjects here, not just one or two.”

I have already covered this, Albert thought. He shook his head in resignation.

Herr von Achen challenged Albert. “Herr Einstein, please stand and explain to the class Newton’s theory of celestial mechanics.”

“The law of universal gravitation states that any two bodies in the universe attract each other with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them,” Albert rattled off sitting in his seat.

Herr von Achen’s face reddened. “What are you talking about? Where in your textbook did you see that?” His anger building, the older man, spat, “And when I tell you to stand young man, you will stand!”

Albert threw his hands up and stood beside his chair. “Herr von Achen, I learned Newton’s theory of celestial mechanics several years ago. I read the Peoples Books of Natural Science when I was twelve. All twenty-one volumes.” A collective gasp rippled through the classroom.

Herr von Achen could barely contain his fury. “I don’t care what you read or when.” He grabbed the copy of the textbook from his desk and held it up. “We are working with this textbook and the information in it. So…” he continued as his body quivered and he slammed the book down on his desk with a sharp crack, “you can shut your mouth now and sit down immediately!”

Turning from Albert to the blackboard, Herr von Achen began madly scribbling as he spoke in short staccato bursts of scientific jargon. Albert wished he were anywhere but here. As the other boys feverishly took notes, attempting to keep up with their still enraged teacher, Albert slumped into his chair and pulled his brass compass from his pocket. He found endless fascination studying his prized possession. Pushing on the twelve gemstones like buttons, he tried to turn it on again. How could he get the number 33 to flash the way it had when he first opened the compass?

He was pulled from his dream-like state by the clock striking the hour and marking the end of the class. Albert put away his compass and gathered his books, happy to be heading for the door. Just as he was about to escape, Herr von Achen motioned him over to his desk. Albert approached cautiously. Herr von Achen pointed his right index finger at Albert and through clenched teeth growled, “Just who do you think you are, Herr Einstein?”

Albert took in a deep breath. “What do you want me to say, Herr von Achen?”

With a vein throbbing just above his brow, Von Achen spat out, “You come to class late, sit in the back row with your attention elsewhere, and argue with me whenever you can. Where is your respect?”

“Sorry, sir,” Albert replied, his patience at an end.

Herr von Achen leaned forward across his desk, coming only inches from Albert’s face. “Well then, perhaps you would do better somewhere else.” He pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and smacked it against Albert’s chest. “You are to meet with the Academik Committee in six weeks. The letter explains everything.” He spun around to straighten some papers on his desk. “And, Herr Einstein,” he said with sarcasm, his attention on the papers, “be on time.”

Not knowing what to say, Albert stepped back and stared blankly at the letter in his hand. Albert’s face flushed as the idea of being expelled from school and having his plans shattered took hold. His thoughts raced. His teachers at the Folkenshuler tried to force him to conform. Albert found it suffocating. Suddenly, the whole place felt like it was closing in on him.

Albert bolted from the classroom, ran through the hall and bolted out the front door. The biting, near-winter wind smacked Albert in the face as he burst out of the Gymnasium. Running and out of breath.

He inhaled the cold air into his lungs. Albert tried to calm himself and take stock. He needed to be alone. Slowly Albert calmed down, and rationality returned. He realized he needed his bicycle. Keeping his eyes down to avoid engaging with anyone, made his way back to the side entrance of the Gymnasium. No one paid any attention to Albert as he mounted his bicycle and pedaled away. His heavy wool suit barely kept him warm in the fall chill, but he hardly noticed.

Finally, on the edge of campus, he took one hand off the handlebars to wipe the tears from his eyes. Albert pedaled fast to Gasteig Park and the bridge at the end of the Prinzregentenstrasse. He slowed before a bench in the formal gardens and set his bicycle on the brittle, brown grass.

Sitting back, like a lost soul Albert closed his eyes. He felt crushed and out of control and just wanted to scream out his anger with Herr von Achen. He gazed across the terraces where the bare branches of tall birch and maples trees quivered in the wind. Rising above in the axis of the Prinzregentenstrasse was the Angel of Peace, a statue of the ancient Greek goddess of victory, Athena Nike. Albert stared at the towering, golden figure. “My only god is mathematics,” he declared out loud. The sun began to set, and Albert shivered in the chill air. I need to be somewhere where I can think. He didn’t want to discuss this with Johann, and his aunt and uncle would be of no assistance. Then he realized he had the perfect place.

It was fully dark by the time Albert found himself riding past candlelit houses of middle-class families. A short time later, he arrived at his destination. Quietly Albert walked his bike to the back of the house and left it under a small canopy made for the family vehicles. He opened the back door and entered a quiet house. He was alone. Since his parents had taken his younger sister, Mara, to Italy, he had the family home all to himself.

He turned on the hall light and climbed the stairs two at a time. He opened the door to find his bed, dresser, and armoire had accumulated only a light coat of dust since he’d left them in the summer. Just being back in the familiar room helped to calm him. Taking a deep breath, Albert reached under the bed and pulled out his violin case. He opened it and carefully picked up his friend, Violina. Albert stood in the middle of the living room, closed his eyes and remembered playing the Mozart lullaby “I See the Moon” with his mother accompanying him on the piano. Profoundly missing his family, he began to play the favorite tune on his violin. As the sweet notes emerged from Violina, Albert started walking, then gently waltzing, around the room. He could almost hear his mother singing the melody and laughing. The folksy love song lifted his heart. Lost in his dreams, Albert let the song fill him.

Bowing the last strains of the beautiful melody, Albert found the memory of his ordeal with Herr von Achen intruding into his awareness. The warm Violina still in his hands, he opened his eyes to a dimly lit bedroom, abandoned. He sighed and settled Violina into her case. Feeling forlorn, Albert collapsed onto his bed fully clothed and fell into a deep sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day.

 

Atlantis and the Supernatural Compass

 

Young Einstein learned through thought experiments he was able to go beyond his mind into joyful wonder. I had to go into my inner world of creativity to write the story of how an innocent young Jewish boy rose in his imagination to change the world. My novel began in 2014, published in 2019 and has won ten book awards. Now I begin a new chapter in my creative imagination with a novella based on the lost continent of Atlantis. Twenty thousand words of where our protagonist Arka and his evil brother Raka will embark on an adventure to initate the first supernatural Shamir Stone into the pryamids of Egypt. A new character Kyre, the high priest in charge of the light and energy crystals and Shamir will show us how the supernatural compass is created and used for the energy source for the pryamids and the world. Raka will do his best to interfere with the light workers. Are you ready to take an adventure to the original place of thought experiments, inspired creativity and spiritual light?

Spring 1895
Thought Experiment

Six male students in their mid-teens dressed in wool suits, starched white shirts, and blue-and-yellow neckties sat two by two in a single row, anxiously awaiting the start of class. Albert had enrolled in Aarau High School after his unsuccessful attempt to enter the Polytechnic. Of course, he had passed the math and science section of the exam with flying colors. Yet the test showed Albert needed more study in languages, biology, literature, political science, and botany. While somewhat disappointed with the test results, he saw it would only take a year at Aarau before he could get to the Polytechnic, and he was okay with that.

The smell of fresh white chalk stimulated Albert’s mind. He focused on the three Hs the headmaster, Professor Winteler, wrote on the blackboard; the principles of teaching the school followed.

Heart – to explore what students want to learn. To develop their moral qualities, such as helping others.

Head – to understand objects, concepts, and experiences.

Hand – to learn the craft of doing good work and develop their physical skills.

Completing his writing with a flourish, the teacher turned to face his class. His brown eyes twinkled, and there was genuine warmth and enthusiasm in his voice as he said, “I have found that people learn more easily accessing their intuition, their inner powers than they do through their minds.”

In the front row, Albert relaxed. For the first time in his school life, the reject from the Gymnasium in Germany felt connected.

The wise professor put down the chalk and rubbed his hands together. He adjusted his spectacles and said, “Our first exercise will be a thought experiment. It will assist us when we want to consider a hypothesis or theory when the purpose is to think through by steps to its consequences. This practice will increase your personal power of thought and imagination. What’s more,” he said with a smile, “by going inward, you begin to trust yourself.”

A sandy-haired student raised his hand, and the professor acknowledged him. “Yes, Gregory, you have a question?”

“I do, sir,” the boy said as he stood.

The professor smiled. “Good. Questions are encouraged. What do you have?”

“In this mind experiment, do we have our eyes open or closed?”

“For the purposes of our first experiment, you will have your eyes closed. Though I am sure sometimes during the day, you find yourself in a daydream where your mind is drifting in space even with your eyes open.” Gregory nodded as the professor continued. “We are going to use a what-if, dreamy kind of imagination to allow you to let go and create possibilities.”

As Gregory sat down, the professor instructed, “Now I want you to remove your jackets, loosen your ties, and sit up straight with your arms and legs uncrossed. Place your hands on your thighs, palms up.”

The students did so and waited for the next direction.

“Close your eyes and take a slow, deep breath,” Winteler said. “Inhale, then slowly let go of all the air in your lungs.” He paused for a few seconds. “Again, this time breathe in more slowly.” As the students did this, he paused, then said, “Hold the air inside.” He paused again. “Let go of all the air, slowly. Allow your body to relax. Keep your eyes closed and focus on your breath going in and out. If your mind starts to chatter, just acknowledge that then bring your focus back to your breathing.”

Albert sat with his back straight though he was relaxed, surrendering his mind. Lost in the experience, the dreamer did not even hear what the teacher said next because he found himself enveloped in a warm glow, and he felt like he was rising above the Earth. A motion caught his awareness, and he glanced to the side. Next to him flew a graceful, towering, luminous being with flowing, golden hair. Somehow, Albert sensed it was an angel. The angel’s violet eyes gave the dreamer a loving smile, and Albert surrendered more fully to his experience. Archangel Michael offered Albert his hand, and Albert gently grasped it. The sound of angels singing “Glory to God in the highest” rang out over the universe.

Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure

Albert Einstein Visits Atlantis 10,000 B.C.

Have you wondered what it was like to live on the lost continent of Atlantis? My research of Atlantis came from the prophet Edgar Cayce. Atlantis was one of three islands in Posedian. Atlantis had the Atlantean technology of light workers, DNA experiments, reincarnation, time travel and hover crafts. Our planet’s energy source was a Larimar Firestone Crystal the size of twenty foot square room. The Atlantean held secrets of how light and energy transport vehicles and transmit air signals for communication. On Aryan Island were the fallen angels of Atlantis who wanted to control the world with power and force. They formed a military style government with bloody animals sacrifices to scare their population into compliance. The dark angels sought the energy Crystal for control of the world. Read Einstein’s Compass and discover the struggle of darkness vs the light.

Chapter 28
Atlantis 10,000 BC
Arka

Arka was preparing for his morning meditation when he noticed a messenger striding toward him from across the garden. Dressed in black linen trousers and shirt with the Black Sun symbol on each collar, the female soldier from Aryan came to a stop in front of the priest-scientist and stood at rigid attention.

“Sorry to interrupt, sir. General Tora-Fuliar ordered me to deliver this to you immediately.” She extended a paper bearing the seal of the Aryan High Command. Arka thanked the soldier and dismissed her. His eyes widened, as he read the message from his twin brother, Raka, who had been missing for some weeks.

My Dear Brother,

I expect you may wonder what has become of me since my recent disappearance from Atlantis. I assure you; I am fine… no, better than fine. In fact, I am prospering on Aryan in my new position as Supreme High Commander of all Aryan forces.

You might wonder how I could accomplish such a feat considering your low (and inaccurate) opinion of me. Let’s just say that I had a little help from the Draconian DNA. (I presume you know that I had taken it.) With my innate intellect and savvy, I could “convince” the Aryan leadership that I was the man (loosely speaking) for the job. I am so much more than a man now.

Please accept this letter as notice that, under my leadership, the Aryans will assume control of the temples and power crystals of Atlantis. I look forward to our next meeting, where you may kneel at my feet out of respect for my accomplishments and in awe of my power.

Your loving brother,

Raka

Arka’s face went pale. His brother had fallen from God’s grace into the darkness of greed and power. Not only is Atlantis in danger, but the entire planet is also doomed if Raka gets ahold of the Firestone Crystal. As he folded the letter and put it in his tunic pocket, Arka tried to hold back his feeling of fear. Before he could consider next steps, he needed to center himself and align with his higher self. Despite his brother’s revelations, he was eager to prepare for the day. He recently had been made aware through meditation that he would be receiving an exceptional guest today.

* * *

As Albert and Johann clasped hands, Ezekiel uncloaked the Atlas, exposing its Light from the Holy of Holies. He touched the screen of the Crystal Lux Portal. The holographic gateway opened, and the illumination beam pulled their etheric bodies into the vessel.

The silver-haired pilot, focused on manipulating the craft’s holographic controls, motioned for his passengers to sit behind him. Albert was trying to look everywhere at once. Then he heard Johann cleared his throat. “Uh, Albert.”

“Yes. What?”

With a wry look, Johann pointed to their still-clasped hands.

“Oh, right,” Albert laughed, letting go. “But… look at this… whatever it is,” he said, gesturing to the glowing interior of the craft.

“This is an energetic vessel called an Ark, Albert.” Ezekiel completed his course setting for the ship as he spoke. “It is something of a metaphor, actually, and allows us to travel through the constructs of time and space.”

The pickup accomplished, Ezekiel gestured over the control panel, and the golden ship disappeared into another dimension of time.

“But… How?… What?…” Albert tried to formulate a complete question.

Ezekiel held up a hand. “Easy, my friend. Let me try to make sense of things for you.”

“Yes, that might help.” Albert tried to relax

Johann leaned forward to listen. While he had a fair amount of experience being on the inner realms of Light, this travel through time was new to him.

“Okay, let’s see,” Ezekiel said with a serene smile. “First off, my name is Ezekiel. Like Moses, Jesus, Akhenaten, and others, I am what’s called a traveler, or Mystical Traveler. We have a specific role to play in the spiritual evolution of mankind.”

Albert’s eyes widened. “Wait, Ezekiel, as in ‘Ezekiel Saw the Wheel’ Ezekiel?”

Ezekiel’s laugh was friendly. “Yes, that would be me.”

Having now worked with several spiritual masters, Johann was not surprised. Albert was still working on it. “Uh, o-o-o-kay…” he said, trying to process it all.

“You, Herr Einstein,” Ezekiel continued, “also have a part to play in the unfolding evolvement of humanity. That’s why you are here.”

“I think you’ve made a mistake,” Albert interjected. “I’m just a student.”

“Yes, that’s what you’re doing now…well, at least at this moment in your present time and space. But you have a destiny, Albert, and they assign us travelers to assist you in realizing it.”

“Destiny? I’m not so sure I believe in that.”

“Reasonable enough,” Ezekiel responded, “but let me ask you a question. What is consuming you? I know it’s not studying outdated science.”

Albert rolled his eyes. “Of course not. I am working on proving certain theories of light, time…” Albert was suddenly struck by where he was and that he was moving in a dimension other than his own. “…and space,” he concluded haltingly.

Ezekiel smiled as he watched Albert’s realization unfold. “So, do you know why you have such a burning interest in these things?”

Albert could only shake his head, his mind still struggling to grasp the immensity of what he was experiencing.

“Well,” Ezekiel said, “like destiny, this may challenge your scientific beliefs and your typical demands for tangible proof in the material world.”

“Go on,” Albert said.

Ezekiel chuckled again. “Well, suppose—just suppose—that you are getting glimpses into a past life you had.”

Albert started shaking his head, but Ezekiel continued. “And in that life, you were a scientist working with light, time, and space. Suppose you have been having memories about what you learned in that lifetime.”

“I will need some time to think about that,” Albert declared, rubbing his temple to try to alleviate a headache beginning to pound in his head.

Ezekiel felt only compassion for his new student. “Take all the time you need. I know this challenges your analytical mind. But I think you’re getting a sense that there’s a lot more going on than what the mind can readily grasp. Why don’t you relax for a bit and digest everything?”

It relieved Albert to retreat into his thoughts and consider everything he had heard. After about twenty minutes, the pilot beckoned Albert and Johann over to watch as millennia of time passed on the Crystal Lux Portal.

It struck Albert with a thought as he watched. “If things are as you say, then shouldn’t we be able to move through time instantaneously?”

Ezekiel nodded approvingly. “Excellent, Herr scientist. But remember, this craft is only a metaphor. It would be too distressing to the conscious mind to have things appear simultaneously, so we operate with the constructs that the conscious mind accepts.”

It satisfied Albert for the moment, and Ezekiel announced that they had arrived at their intended destination; Atlantis 10,400 BCE, by his reckoning. Albert watched as the traveler manipulated the holographic controls of their craft and it came to rest in a luxurious botanical garden with flowering trees, a lily pond, and water fountains. As the craft’s port opened, the smell of jasmine greeted Albert’s senses.

Ezekiel remained in the craft as Johann and Albert exited and looked around. For Johann, Atlantis was not all that different from the inner realm school environments where he had been studying. But the scene awed Albert in front of him. In one location, tall Atlanteans walked a labyrinth in devotional reflection. In other areas, people walked and talked as they made their unhurried way to the temples of learning and healing that dotted the landscape. An aura of peace and tranquility pervaded.

They drew their attention to a blond fellow in a short emerald tunic who was sitting in a meditative posture in a grotto near where they were standing. As they watched, the man’s etheric body extended from his physical space and approached them. He waved, saying, “Welcome to Atlantis. My name is Arka.”

Albert scratched his perpetually unruly brown hair and looked up in awe of the Atlantean.

Remembering his assignment, Johann pulled himself together. “Thank you for coming to receive us. My name is Johann, and I am studying with the travelers.” Urging his friend forward, he said, “May I introduce Albert Einstein?”

Arka extended his hand and looked Albert in the eye. When their palms and gaze met, Albert felt a gentle jolt. “Nice to meet you, Arka…. But I feel like I already know you.”

Arka smiled and inclined his head as he guided the boys to a nearby bench. “I understand, Albert. And I need you to listen to what I have to say with an open mind, as best you can.”

Albert shook his head ruefully. “I’m getting that a lot today.” He took in a breath and said, “Just go ahead, and I’ll see how I do.”

Arka launched into his explanation. “Do you accept reincarnation—well, re-embodiment, actually?”

Albert shrugged. “I have heard the concept. I can’t say I believe it.”

“Fair enough. Now then, many people who think of such things believe we are a body that has a soul. But the fact is, we are souls having a human experience. Our souls extend into human bodies throughout time to gain knowledge. Can you, for the time being, accept that?”

Albert looked at Arka and considered the question. “Until today I would have said no. But I feel like the entire foundation of what I believe is being shaken, so, for the moment, let’s say that I will entertain this idea.”

Albert could only nod and retreat into his thoughts to consider what he had heard.

“Okay, good.” Arka rewarded Albert with a smile. “So, here’s the situation: our souls are gaining experience through us while we are alive, and it is gaining experience through you when you are alive.”

Albert blinked as he silently absorbed what Arka had said. “So, you’re saying…”

“Yes, we share this soul. And it is bridging ideas from your past to your awareness in your time.”

Despite Albert’s dazed look, Arka continued. “Before a soul reembodies, a spiritual plan is agreed upon. It includes many things, like which experiences the soul will need to progress, and which parents will be able to provide those experiences.”

Johann, who had been studying these things, knew his friend was having a hard time coming to grips with all this information. He had confidence, though, that Albert would come to see the truth of it all.

“I believe we have brought here you, Albert, to quicken your awareness of the principles of light, space, and time,” Arka finished.

“So,” Albert said, “this is like a class for me, so I can bring the information to my time and then expand on it?”

“Well, yes… and no,” Arka said. “We are discussing all of this in our etheric bodies. I am doing it consciously, but, as I understand it, you are not doing it intentionally. So, what you will learn here will go into your unconscious and subconscious mind, where it will present itself to you from time to time. You will experience it as inspiration or intuition.”

Arka was struck with an idea. “I know all of this is challenging for you, Albert. How about I demonstrate some work we are doing here on Atlantis. Would you like that?”

Albert nodded. “Something tangible would help.”

Arka reached out. “May I see your arm, Albert?”

Albert slowly extended his damaged arm toward the priest-scientist. “It’s pretty badly burned, so please be careful.”

Arka tenderly unwrapped the gauze bandage. “While I work with your etheric body, Albert, the results will filter down to your physical body in your own time.” Arka could now see the large, crusted scab forming on Albert’s scorched arm. It was clear there would be quite a scar. Arka closed his eyes and quietly prayed, “I call forward the Light of God and the Masters of Light and healing.” The priest-scientist was fully relaxed as his love poured forth from within his sacred heart and he held his palm over Albert’s damaged arm. “I ask if it is for the highest good for Albert, that his arm be healed.” Almost immediately, the angry red skin under the scab took on a healthier pink glow. Arka gently touched the crust and saw that it was no longer attached to Albert’s arm. He carefully lifted it to reveal utterly normal skin underneath.

Bewildered, Albert looked up at Arka. “Oh, how did you do that?”

“Love is the healer. I made a request.”

Albert looked at Johann. “Unbelievable!”

“Believe it, Albert.” Johann smiled. “You are enough of a scientist to observe evidence, even when it goes against your beliefs.”

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Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure
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2020 Rone Book Cover Award

Hold On Tight To Your Dreams

The song “Hold On Tight To Your Dreams” by ELO has been playing on a loop in my head for the last few days. My first dream for Einstein’s Compass was to publish a hero’s journey that captured your heart. My second goal was to raise awareness of my novel. This week Einstein’s Compass won “ Young Adult Fiction of the 2019 Best Book Awards. This award is one of four book awards in 2019. The Historial Novel Society wrote a rave review. Amazon and Goodreads readers love the story. Now, my dream is Einstein’s Compass being made into a motion picture shown worldwide. A movie would increase book sales and spread the message of how a German boy who received a compass from his father was inspired to follow his #dreams of what is time and light and changed the world.

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October 1894
Called to Task

 

As Albert secured his bicycle at the side entrance of the Gymnasium and took his books from the basket mounted in front of the handlebars, he wondered what the Benedictine monks thought of a Jewish boy attending their prestigious boarding school.

Dressed in a stylish charcoal wool suit, Albert walked toward the front of the building. Mounting the steps, he took off his inky, short-brimmed, felt bowler hat and smoothed back his unruly chestnut hair. He was late. Again. But he didn’t care.

Dwarfed by the tall Doric columns, he kept his eyes on the ground. He didn’t even glance at the long wall scroll with the Bavarian monks’ black-and-gold coat of arms that hung above him. Albert’s pace slowed. I am not looking forward to another day of boredom with these dullards.

At sixteen and standing five feet nine, Albert was not an imposing figure. The mild expression on his face hid the firestorm of rage that brewed in his mind. Day after day, the same thing.

This rote memorizing hurts my brain. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Albert let his thoughts drift to his mother and father. He missed his family.

Melancholy came over him as he remembered their goodbyes in early summer. His parents left him with his aunt and uncle so they could pursue work in Italy. He had loved his life before they went. Now, he was stuck in classes where the boys were studying things that he had mastered years earlier. His guardians, unfortunately, were not as understanding as his parents about Albert’s boredom.

Albert stopped next to a column and leaned against it, remembering his initial discovery of the magic of mathematics. He had been only around twelve when Max Talmud, a family friend and struggling medical student, visited the Einstein’s for Shabbat one Friday and gave Albert a gift that changed his life. It was a mathematics book called Simple Algebra, and it opened new worlds to Albert, who at the time was in Folkenshuler elementary school. Albert mastered the text by himself and would delight in surprising Max with how much he had learned since the previous Shabbat.

For Albert, Simple Algebra was like a prayer book. He remembered his wonderment as the book began stimulating questions in his mind. Each problem became a puzzle to solve. Life was a series of “Xs” he decided, a series of unknowns.

Albert forced himself out of his reverie and reluctantly resumed his walk to class. He entered the classroom and glanced over at his friend, Johann. The teacher, Herr von Achen, was writing on the blackboard, his back to the class. Von Achen was a rigid and disciplined man on whom forty resembled sixty. His eyes were a bleak gray behind gold-rimmed spectacles, and he wore a perpetual frown under his balding head.

“The ‘late’ Herr Einstein,” taunted Werner von Wiesel as Albert made his way to his seat. Werner was his usual obnoxious self. The boys in the class would have laughed at the play on words, but they had heard this phrase numerous times already from Von Wiesel. His entourage did manage a weak guffaw as Albert slid into his seat.

Von Achen turned and frowned. “Enough, Herr von Wiesel,” he said in a halfhearted admonishment. Albert, who often challenged Herr von Achen, was far from the teacher’s favorite student. Additionally, Von Achen didn’t want to antagonize the son of Colonel von Wiesel, one of Munich’s substantial citizens.

With a disapproving glare at Albert, Von Achen began the lesson. “Today, we will discuss the mathematical treatment of astronomy, Newton’s development of celestial mechanics and the laws of gravitation. Does everyone have their textbook?” Several of the boys nodded, taking out their copies of Josef Krist’s Essentials of Natural Science.

Albert raised his hand. “With all due respect, Herr von Achen, what does astronomy have to do with physics?”

Murmurs and grumbles rippled through the classroom. Werner rolled his eyes, moaning, “Not again… Einstein, do you have to do this?”

Albert stood his ground. “My interest is in learning physics. Astronomy is a waste of my time.”

Herr von Achen turned and glared at Albert. “As part of this course, we are covering the five branches of natural science: astronomy, biology, chemistry, the Earth sciences, and physics. You are to learn a broad range of subjects here, not just one or two.”

I have already covered this, Albert thought. He shook his head in resignation.

Herr von Achen challenged Albert. “Herr Einstein, please stand and explain to the class Newton’s theory of celestial mechanics.”

“The law of universal gravitation states that any two bodies in the universe attract each other with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them,” Albert rattled off sitting in his seat.

Herr von Achen’s face reddened. “What are you talking about? Where in your textbook did you see that?” His anger building, the older man, spat, “And when I tell you to stand young man, you will stand!”

Albert threw his hands up and stood beside his chair. “Herr von Achen, I learned Newton’s theory of celestial mechanics several years ago. I read the Peoples Books of Natural Science when I was twelve. All twenty-one volumes.” A collective gasp rippled through the classroom.

Herr von Achen could barely contain his fury. “I don’t care what you read or when.” He grabbed the copy of the textbook from his desk and held it up. “We are working with this textbook and the information in it. So…” he continued as his body quivered and he slammed the book down on his desk with a sharp crack, “you can shut your mouth now and sit down immediately!”

Turning from Albert to the blackboard, Herr von Achen began madly scribbling as he spoke in short staccato bursts of scientific jargon. Albert wished he were anywhere but here. As the other boys feverishly took notes, attempting to keep up with their still enraged teacher, Albert slumped into his chair and pulled his brass compass from his pocket. He found endless fascination studying his prized possession. Pushing on the twelve gemstones like buttons, he tried to turn it on again. How could he get the number 33 to flash the way it had when he first opened the compass?

He was pulled from his dream-like state by the clock striking the hour and marking the end of the class. Albert put away his compass and gathered his books, happy to be heading for the door. Just as he was about to escape, Herr von Achen motioned him over to his desk. Albert approached cautiously. Herr von Achen pointed his right index finger at Albert and through clenched teeth growled, “Just who do you think you are, Herr Einstein?”

Albert took in a deep breath. “What do you want me to say, Herr von Achen?”

With a vein throbbing just above his brow, Von Achen spat out, “You come to class late, sit in the back row with your attention elsewhere, and argue with me whenever you can. Where is your respect?”

“Sorry, sir,” Albert replied, his patience at an end.

Herr von Achen leaned forward across his desk, coming only inches from Albert’s face. “Well then, perhaps you would do better somewhere else.” He pulled an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and smacked it against Albert’s chest. “You are to meet with the Academik Committee in six weeks. The letter explains everything.” He spun around to straighten some papers on his desk. “And, Herr Einstein,” he said with sarcasm, his attention on the papers, “be on time.”

Not knowing what to say, Albert stepped back and stared blankly at the letter in his hand. Albert’s face flushed as the idea of being expelled from school and having his plans shattered took hold. His thoughts raced. His teachers at the Folkenshuler tried to force him to conform. Albert found it suffocating. Suddenly, the whole place felt like it was closing in on him.

Albert bolted from the classroom, ran through the hall and bolted out the front door. The biting, near-winter wind smacked Albert in the face as he burst out of the Gymnasium. Running and out of breath.

He inhaled the cold air into his lungs. Albert tried to calm himself and take stock. He needed to be alone. Slowly Albert calmed down, and rationality returned. He realized he needed his bicycle. Keeping his eyes down to avoid engaging with anyone, made his way back to the side entrance of the Gymnasium. No one paid any attention to Albert as he mounted his bicycle and pedaled away. His heavy wool suit barely kept him warm in the fall chill, but he hardly noticed.

Finally, on the edge of campus, he took one hand off the handlebars to wipe the tears from his eyes. Albert pedaled fast to Gasteig Park and the bridge at the end of the Prinzregentenstrasse. He slowed before a bench in the formal gardens and set his bicycle on the brittle, brown grass.

Sitting back, like a lost soul Albert closed his eyes. He felt crushed and out of control and just wanted to scream out his anger with Herr von Achen. He gazed across the terraces where the bare branches of tall birch and maples trees quivered in the wind. Rising above in the axis of the Prinzregentenstrasse was the Angel of Peace, a statue of the ancient Greek goddess of victory, Athena Nike. Albert stared at the towering, golden figure. “My only god is mathematics,” he declared out loud. The sun began to set, and Albert shivered in the chill air. I need to be somewhere where I can think. He didn’t want to discuss this with Johann, and his aunt and uncle would be of no assistance. Then he realized he had the perfect place.

It was fully dark by the time Albert found himself riding past candlelit houses of middle-class families. A short time later, he arrived at his destination. Quietly Albert walked his bike to the back of the house and left it under a small canopy made for the family vehicles. He opened the back door and entered a quiet house. He was alone. Since his parents had taken his younger sister, Mara, to Italy, he had the family home all to himself.

He turned on the hall light and climbed the stairs two at a time. He opened the door to find his bed, dresser, and armoire had accumulated only a light coat of dust since he’d left them in the summer. Just being back in the familiar room helped to calm him. Taking a deep breath, Albert reached under the bed and pulled out his violin case. He opened it and carefully picked up his friend, Violina. Albert stood in the middle of the living room, closed his eyes and remembered playing the Mozart lullaby “I See the Moon” with his mother accompanying him on the piano. Profoundly missing his family, he began to play the favorite tune on his violin. As the sweet notes emerged from Violina, Albert started walking, then gently waltzing, around the room. He could almost hear his mother singing the melody and laughing. The folksy love song lifted his heart. Lost in his dreams, Albert let the song fill him.

Bowing the last strains of the beautiful melody, Albert found the memory of his ordeal with Herr von Achen intruding into his awareness. The warm Violina still in his hands, he opened his eyes to a dimly lit bedroom, abandoned. He sighed and settled Violina into her case. Feeling forlorn, Albert collapsed onto his bed fully clothed and fell into a deep sleep. Tomorrow would be a new day.

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Award-winning Middle Grade/YA Author Grace Blair Asks, “What if Einstein Had a Magic Compass?”

Grace will be signing her new title Einstein’s Compass at BookCon in New York City

May 28, 2019—Meet multi-award-winning author Grace Blair at BookCon and Book Expo America (BEA). Grace will be available to speak with book buyers, librarians, the press, and readers during BookCon on Saturday, June 1 as well as during BEA, which takes place beginning tomorrow, Wednesday, May 29 through Friday, May 31 at the Javitz Center in New York City.

 

In Grace’s latest book, Einstein’s Compass: A YA Time Traveler Adventure, we meet a young Albert Einstein who has been given a supernatural compass that allows him to travel through time and space. Through the compass, Albert finds wisdom in other dimensions, including the lost city of Atlantis. But evil forces seek the power of the compass, including a monstrous, shape-shifting dragon from a different age. Can the compass protect Albert from such villainy?

 

A finalist in the 13th Annual National Indie Excellence Awards and Winner of the 2019 eLit Silver Award for Juvenile YA Fiction, Einstein’s Compass has been called “a riveting fantasy about soul-searching and growth [that] will keep young adult readers engrossed to the end.” ~ Midwest Review of Books. Grace will be signing copies of Einstein’s Compass at Booth 1003 (Ingram Pavillion) from 11:00 a.m to 12:00 p.m. on Saturday, June 1, 2019. Book supplies are limited.

~

About Grace Blair: Grace is an award-winning self-help and motivational author as well as a podcast host. She has helped thousands find spiritual wisdom to solve everyday challenges. As a serious student of all things spiritual and mystical, she has found that often psychological principles are enriched by a spiritual component. She frequently uncovers practical applications for her discoveries in the mystical world. Her studies, experience, and discoveries inspired her to write Einstein’s Compass. She lives in Lubbock, Texas, with her husband, Dr. John Blair. https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/30995754-einstein-s-compass

Survival of the Fittest by: Jacqui Murray

This is part of a series. What’s that about?

Survival of the Fittest is Book 1 in the Crossroads series and part of the Man vs. Nature saga. It delves into man’s ability to survive the unsurvivable, make decisions that could kill him, and makes plans contrary to his instincts. Most (all?) animals operate on an internal compass–instinct. Man has free will—the ability to reject our gut in favor of our intellect or heart.

 

Five tribes. One leader.

A treacherous journey across three continents in search of a new home.

Short Summary:

Chased by a ruthless and powerful enemy, Xhosa flees with her People, leaving behind a certain life in her African homeland to search for an unknown future. She leads her People on a grueling journey through unknown and dangerous lands but an escape path laid out years before by her father as a final desperate means to survival. She is joined by other homeless tribes–from Indonesia, China, South Africa, East Africa, and the Levant—all similarly forced by timeless events to find new lives. As they struggle to overcome treachery, lies, danger, tragedy, hidden secrets, and Nature herself, Xhosa must face the reality that this enemy doesn’t want her People’s land. He wants to destroy her.

Book information:

 Title and author: Survival of the Fittest

Series: Book 1 in the Crossroads series, part of the Man vs. Nature saga

Genre: Prehistoric fiction

Cover by: Damonza 

Available at: Kindle US Kindle UK Kindle CA Kindle AU

 

Author bio:

Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular Building a Midshipman, the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy, the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers, and the Man vs. Nature saga. She is also the author/editor of over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, adjunct professor of technology in education, blog webmaster, an Amazon Vine Voice,  a columnist for TeachHUB and NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics. Look for her next prehistoric fiction, Quest for Home, Summer 2019. You can find her tech ed books at her publisher’s website, Structured Learning

 

Social Media contacts:

http://twitter.com/worddreams

http://pinterest.com/askatechteacher

http://linkedin.com/in/jacquimurray

https://worddreams.wordpress.com

https://jacquimurray.net

Chapter 1

Her foot throbbed. Blood dripped from a deep gash in her leg. At some point, Xhosa had scraped her palms raw while sliding across gravel but didn’t remember when, nor did it matter. Arms pumping, heart thundering, she flew forward. When her breath went from pants to wheezing gasps, she lunged to a stop, hands pressed against her damp legs, waiting for her chest to stop heaving. She should rest but that was nothing but a passing thought, discarded as quickly as it arrived. Her mission was greater than exhaustion or pain or personal comfort.

She started again, sprinting as though chased, aching fingers wrapped around her spear. The bellows of the imaginary enemy—Big Heads this time—filled the air like an acrid stench. She flung her spear over her shoulder, aiming from memory. A thunk and it hit the tree, a stand-in for the enemy. With a growl, she pivoted to defend her People.

Which would never happen.?Females weren’t warriors.

Feet spread, mouth set in a tight line, she launched her last spear, skewering an imaginary assailant, and was off again, feet light, her abundance of ebony hair streaming behind her like smoke. A scorpion crunched beneath her hardened foot. Something moved in the corner of her vision and she hurled a throwing stone, smiling as a hare toppled over. Nightshade called her reactions to those of Leopard.

But that didn’t matter. Females didn’t become hunters either.

With a lurch, she gulped in the parched air. The lush green grass had long since given way to brittle stalks and desiccated scrub. Sun’s heat drove everything alive underground, underwater, or over the horizon. The males caught her attention across the field, each with a spear and wwar club Today’s hunt would be the last until the rain—and the herds—returned.

“Why haven’t they left?”

She kicked a rock and winced as pain shot through her foot. Head down, eyes shut against the memories. Even after all this time, the chilling screams still rang in her ears…

The People’s warriors had been away hunting when the assault occurred. Xhosa’s mother pushed her young daughter into a reed bed and stormed toward the invaders but too late to save the life of her young son. The killer, an Other, laughed at the enraged female armed only with a cutter. When she sliced his cheek open, the gash so deep his black teeth showed, his laughter became fury. He swung his club with such force her mother crumpled instantly, her head a shattered melon.

From the safety of the pond, Xhosa memorized the killer—nose hooked awkwardly from some earlier injury, eyes dark pools of cruelty. It was then, at least in spirit, she became a warrior. Nothing like this must ever happen again.

When her father, the People’s Leader, arrived that night with his warriors, he was greeted by the devastating scene of blood-soaked ground covered by mangled bodies, already chewed by scavengers. A dry-eyed Xhosa told him how marauders had massacred every subadult, female, and child they could find, including her father’s pairmate. Xhosa communicated this with the usual grunts, guttural sounds, hand signals, facial expressions, hisses, and chirps. The only vocalizations were call signs to identify the group members.

“If I knew how to fight, Father, Mother would be alive.” Her voice held no anger, just determination.

The tribe she described had arrived a Moon ago, drawn by the area’s rich fruit trees, large ponds, lush grazing, and bluffs with a view as far as could be traveled in a day. No other area offered such a wealth of resources. The People’s scouts had seen these Others but allowed them to forage, not knowing their goal was to destroy the People.

Her father’s body raged but his hands, when they moved, were calm.  “We will avenge our losses, daughter.”

The next morning, Xhosa’s father ordered the hunters to stay behind, protect the People. He and the warriors snuck into the enemy camp before Sun awoke and slaughtered the females and children before anyone could launch a defense. The males were pinned to the ground with stakes driven through their thighs and hands. The People cut deep wounds into their bodies and left, the blood scent calling all scavengers.

When Xhosa asked if the one with the slashed cheek had died, her father motioned, “He escaped, alone. He will not survive.”

Word spread of the savagery and no one ever again attacked the People, not their camp, their warriors, or their hunters.

While peace prevailed, Xhosa grew into a powerful but odd-looking female. Her hair was too shiny, hips too round, waist too narrow beneath breasts bigger than necessary to feed babies. Her legs were slender rather than sturdy and so long, they made her taller than every male. The fact that she could outrun even the hunters while heaving her spear and hitting whatever she aimed for didn’t matter. Females weren’t required to run that fast. Nightshade, though, didn’t care about any of that. He claimed they would pairmate, as her father wished, when he became the People’s Leader.

Until then, all of her time was spent practicing the warrior skills no one would allow her to use.

One day, she confronted her father. “I can wield a warclub one-handed and throw a spear hard enough to kill. If I were male, you would make me a warrior.”

He smiled. “You are like a son to me, Daughter. I see your confidence and boldness. If I don’t teach you, I fear I will lose you.”

He looked away, the smile long gone from his lips. “Either you or Nightshade must lead when I can’t.”

Under her father’s tutelage, she and Nightshade learned the nuances of sparring, battling, chasing, defending, and assaulting with the shared goal that never would the People succumb to an enemy. Every one of Xhosa’s spear throws destroyed the one who killed her mother. Every swing of her warclub smashed his head as he had her mother’s. Never again would she stand by, impotent, while her world collapsed. She perfected the skills of knapping cutters and sharpening spears, and became expert at finding animal trace in bent twigs, crushed grass, and by listening to their subtle calls. She could walk without leaving tracks and match nature’s sounds well enough to be invisible.

A Moon ago, as Xhosa practiced her scouting, she came upon a lone warrior kneeling by a waterhole. His back was to her, skeletal and gaunt, his warclub chipped, but menace oozed from him like stench from dung. She melted into the redolent sedge grasses, feet sinking into the squishy mud, and observed.

His head hair was sprinkled with grey. A hooked nose canted precariously, poorly healed from a fracas he won but his nose lost. His curled lips revealed cracked and missing teeth. A cut on his upper arm festered with pus and maggots. Fever dimpled his forehead with sweat. He crouched to drink but no amount of water would appease that thirst.

What gave him away was the wide ragged scar left from the slash of her mother’s cutter.

Xhosa trembled with rage, fearing he would see the reeds shake, biting her lip until it bled to stop from howling. It hardly seemed fair to slay a dying male but fairness was not part of her plan today.

Only revenge.

A check of her surroundings indicated he traveled alone. Not that it mattered. If she must trade her life for his, so be it.

But she didn’t intend to die.

The exhausted warrior splashed muddy water on his grimy head, hands slow, shoulders round with fatigue, oblivious to his impending death. After a quiet breath, she stepped from the sedge, spear in one hand and a large rock in the other. Exposed, arms ready but hanging, she approached. If he turned, he would see her. She tested for dry twigs and brittle grass before committing each foot. It surprised her he ignored the silence of the insects. His wounds must distract him. By the time hair raised on his neck, it was too late. He pivoted as she swung, powered by fury over her mother’s death, her father’s agony, and her own loss. Her warclub smashed into his temple with a soggy thud. Recognition flared moments before life left.

“You die too quickly!” she screamed and hit him over and over, collapsing his skull and spewing gore over her body. “I wanted you to suffer as I did!”

Her body was numb as she kicked him into the pond, feeling not joy for his death, relief that her mother was avenged, or upset at the execution of an unarmed Other. She cleaned the gore from her warclub and left. No one would know she had been blooded but the truth filled her with power.

She was now a warrior.

When she returned to homebase, Nightshade waited. Something flashed through his eyes as though for the first time, he saw her as a warrior. His chiseled face, outlined by dense blue-black hair, lit up. The corners of his full lips twitched under the broad flat nose. The finger-thick white scar emblazoned against his smooth forehead, a symbol of his courage surviving Sabertooth’s claws, pulsed. Female eyes watched him, wishing he would look at them as he did Xhosa but he barely noticed.

The next day, odd Others with long legs, skinny chests, and oversized heads arrived. The People’s scouts confronted them but they simply watched the scouts, spears down, and then trotted away, backs to the scouts. That night, for the first time, Xhosa’s father taught her and Nightshade the lessons of leading.

“Managing the lives of the People is more than winning battles. You must match individual skills to the People’s requirements be it as a warrior, hunter, scout, forager, child minder, Primary Female, or another.  All can do all jobs but one best suits each. The Leader must decide,” her father motioned.

As they finished, she asked the question she’d been thinking about all night. “Father, where do they come from?”

“They are called Big Heads,” which didn’t answer Xhosa’s question.

Nightshade motioned, “Do they want to trade females? Or children?”

Her father stared into the distance as though lost in some memory. His teeth ground together and his hands shook until he clamped them together.

He finally took a breath and motioned, “No, they don’t want mates. They want conflict.” He tilted his head forward. “Soon, we will be forced to stop them.”

Nightshade clenched his spear and his eyes glittered at the prospect of battle. It had been a long time since the People fought.

But the Big Heads vanished. Many of the People were relieved but Xhosa couldn’t shake the feeling that danger lurked only a long spear throw away. She found herself staring at the same spot her father had, thoughts blank, senses burning. At times, there was a movement or the glint of Sun off eyes, but mostly there was only the unnerving feeling of being watched. Each day felt one day closer to when the People’s time would end.

“When it does, I will confess to killing the Other. Anyone blooded must be allowed to be a warrior.”

Jacqui

K-18 Technology

Master Teacher

Adjunct Professor, CSU, UCSD

Amazon Vine Voice

TeachHUB columnist

NEA columnist

Webmaster, Ask a Tech Teacher

Freelance journalist

Is Ophelia Hamlet’s ‘Holy Grail’?

By: Paul Hunting, Author Shakespeare’s Revelation

The drowning of Ophelia: its mystical symbolism revealed

“Nymph, in thy orisons, be all my sins remembered.” – Hamlet

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hidden in the symbolism and word-play of Shakespeare’s plays is the most important (forbidden) truth about who we really are and why we’re here on earth. In order to marvel at this subtext story, you may need to make the fundamental paradigm shift.

The key paradigm shift is to see the characters not as people in the real, historical, or fictional external world, but as characterizations of three pairs of archetypes of our primary internal states of consciousness. Having been a spiritual psychologist, theologian, and executive coach for over 30 years, I thought I was dreaming when I first realized that Shakespeare, to drive the plots of his plays, was using the exact same model of consciousness I have found invaluable to navigate my clients through the labyrinth of the ego into a more soul aware state.

The most confusing element of the subtext – and thus most intriguing – is the plethora of different symbols that refer to what Shakespeare ultimately calls ‘The Tempest’. The Tempest shows up like Alfred Hitchcock, in some guise, in all the plays. Often it’s so subtle it’s almost invisible (as in Measure for Measure).

At the anagogical level, the symbolic story Shakespeare always tells us is ‘How Adam and Eve lost the ‘Holy Grail’ and how Jesus Christ got it back’! ‘The Tempest’ turns out to be Shakespeare’s term for what has become mythologized as none other than ‘The Holy Grail’.

Hamlet is one of the most masterful disguises-and-thus-revelations of this never-before-realized analogy. As I said, if you suspend all disbelief and open your mind you may see this for yourself as I simply point out what the symbols say to me.

As you can see from the pictures, all these biblical and Shakespearean symbols seem to represent the one same thing, for convenience let’s just call it: ‘The Holy Grail’.

 

Ophelia’s role in Hamlet seems in part to represent the journey of Hamlet’s soul – independent of Hamlet as a mortal being.  The key symbol used for Ophelia’s mystical travels is a variation of the term ‘the waters’.

The waters are first seen in Genesis 1: 2 (And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.) In multiple forms of water (seas, rivers, brooks, streams, rain, etc) the waters is a ubiquitous symbolic reference throughout the Bible and Shakespeare. (For a fuller explanation please read my book, Shakespeare’s Revelation.)

Using a ‘brook’ to represent ‘the waters’ goes back to the biblical story of David and Goliath. Symbolizing the power of ‘the Name of God’ to vanquish ‘evil’, it’s interesting that the boy-king David, holding a staff (another symbol for the name of God), took five smooth stones (again, more symbolic names of God) from a brook before defeating Goliath.

No coincidence that Ophelia appeared to drown falling from a willow growing ‘aslant a brook’. (Bear with me!)

Combining these symbols with the images conjured by the poetry is all-important here. We have the image of a wronged-innocent being borne aloft and transported by a stream of water, adorned by (in particular) ‘coronet weeds’…and ‘long purples’.  While she is ‘chanting old lauds’ (praises).

 This, to me, evokes the images of the crown of thorns and the purple robe worn by Jesus at his trial and execution. Before you call the men in white coats, if you look, you’ll see elements of this motif also evident in many of the other plays, too. (Macbeth, for example, laments that: ‘upon my head they placed a fruitless crown and a barren scepter in my gripe’.)

In some of the ancient spiritual mystery schools, initiates chant ‘sacred tones’ to attune them to what’s sometimes called the Sound Current, the lifestream, that, it is said, draws the soul home to the Godhead – in the same way, it is the haunting music that draws Ferdinand to Miranda in The Tempest.

 After all, in Twelfth Night (Epiphany), music is ‘the food of love’ and the principal character, Viola, is named after a musical instrument, and disguised as a boy called Cesario (King).

Before she meets her watery death Ophelia is heard raving ‘madly’ chanting:

How should I, your true love know

From another one?

By his cockle hat and staff

And his sandal shoon.

A cockle hat is worn by a pilgrim (one on the journey to God) and sandals are often associated with Jesus

 

Then up he rose, and donned his clothes,

Again, alluding to the resurrection of Jesus.

And here’s the wonder of Shakespeare’s layer upon layer of symbolism: while Ophelia is ‘drowning’ in the glassy stream Hamlet is simultaneously traveling upon the waters to England.

It is on this watery voyage that Hamlet foils the plan of Claudius (Satan archetype?) to have the two ‘Jews’, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern murder him. And what is a ‘rosen Crantz’?

A crown of roses/crown of thorns! 

And there’s yet another layer of symbolism inherent here – if you can bear it:

One of the most persistent mythological motifs in the deepest drama is ‘symbolic resurrection’.  Shakespeare uses is his through, say, Desdemona, Juliet, and Cordelia who momentarily revive (or seem to) before their final death. Banquo ‘resurrects’ as a ghost. And here it is again with Hamlet. In surviving his attempted murder, he effectively ‘resurrects’ and when we see his new, upbeat mood in the final act this is corroborated.

 

Staying with this theme, things get even more delicious. When Hamlet arrives home in Denmark, just before he gets to Elsinore, he comes upon a cemetery outside the city walls. A grave is being prepared for none other than his beloved Ophelia. She is being buried outside the city walls because it is presumed she committed suicide. Why? (Gertrude’s description of her reported death says she fell from an overhanging bough.)

 

Why indeed? Surely, this is Shakespeare’s device for introducing his clincher symbol. Ophelia has to be buried outside the city walls. What does Hamlet find in the grave being dug for her?                                                         

             

                                                                                                       A  skull

The most iconic scene in all of Shakespeare is no less than an allusion to where Jesus was crucified and buried, outside the city walls at Golgotha, ‘The Place of a Skull’!

And when they came unto a place called Golgotha, that is to say, a place of a skull…they crucified him.. Matthew 27:33

 

 

For a free eBook Contact: [email protected]

http://www.shakespearesrevelation.com

Paperback from Amazon: http://a.co/d/jgXcBWT

 

 

 

Authors Reading Book Review Einstein’s Compass

EINSTEIN’ S COMPASS by Grace Blair and Laren Bright is an exciting YA novel that weaves the life and discoveries of Albert Einstein with the eternal battle of good and evil.  Blair and Bright introduce an evil entity into their novel that is destined to become Einstein’s nemesis.  This dark power is named Raka and among his evil doings is the destruction of Atlantis.  He is very powerful and can take on the form of other beings, but his natural form is that of a fire-breathing dragon. He is replete with many powers and some ghastly antisocial behavior such as eating humans raw.  The cryptic statement “Give me what I want, and I’ll go away,” uttered by Stephen King’s evil entity Andre Linoge is equally apropos for this evil being because he wants something that Einstein has and Raka swears he isn’t going to rest until he gets it.

The novel starts with the story behind the evil force that becomes Einstein’s adversary. The source of the precious Shamir stone is revealed as an artifact created by God. When it is used by the righteous and the virtuous, its supernatural power can be harnessed for the good of mankind. The power of this stone is so potent that even Jesus, Moses and the angels are forced to have ad hoc meetings to prevent this stone from landing into the wrong hands of those who plan to wreak havoc on earth and all the other realms. Apparently, a dormant fragment of the Shamirstone was hidden in the compass device that Albert Einstein received as a child, and this fragment would only come alive if it came in contact with a being who was destined to have it and Einstein was a chosen one.

At age five the famous 20th-century scientist Albert Einstein fell ill.  Albert’s father presents his convalescing son with a compass to cheer him up. This simple device captivates the young scientist’s imagination because no matter where he went, the needle on the compass would only point in one direction. This experience apparently left a lasting impression on Einstein’s psyche and made him believe that something deeper is hidden behind the ordinary things around him. This incident from Einstein’s childhood has now become an anecdote used by teachers and parents to inspire young minds to explore the full potential of their mental faculties.

Grace Blair and Laren Bright, mashup tale of Einstein’s possession of the compass add intrigue, thrill, suspense, and biblical meanings to the anecdotal story.  The historical and religious references throughout the book are eye-opening and will probably send you on your own quest on Google to see what is real and what is fictional.

The authors of this book create a biblical twist behind Einstein’s genius and his landmark contributions to mankind. They also enhance his genius with the magical power of the stone which was first revealed to Einstein at age 12, when a three-dimensional number “33” floated above the compass. The number “33” is Einstein’s birth number, and the story suggests that double numeral birth numbers signify a “master path” and those with such a birth path “lift the loving energy of mankind”. Einstein mastered science and math way ahead of his peers and could envision potential scientific theories that were unthinkable to his peers. As per the book, the Shamir stone provided him with a steady guiding light and helped him reach these eureka moments.

The evil forces, Raka and his allies, however, are on a murderous path to kill the scientist and acquire the stone to attain ultimate power across all the realms. Luckily for young Einstein, the compass also serves as a warning device when certain evil is present. To this biographical narrative of Einstein’s life, the authors added an action-packed, thrilling battle of good versus evil and how a divine intervention, eventually led to Einstein understanding of “How time works.”   The ending provides a huge surprise that neatly brings to a close the plot’s twists and turns.   EINSTEIN’ S COMPASS is suspenseful, thought-provoking, and above all extremely entertaining.

https://www.authorsreading.com/book-reviews/grace-blair/einsteins-compass/
Reviewed by: sakshi

Einstein’s Compass Book Review Betty Jo Tucker Poem

EINSTEIN’S COMPASS: A YA Time Traveler Adventure by Grace Blair and Laren Bright

                                                                     Review Poem by Betty Jo Tucker

Thrilling to read this story told

with such suspense. It’s very bold.

Albert Einstein and time travel

put us under a wondrous spell.

Albert ponders light, time and space.

Was he born in another place?

A compass gift becomes the key

to unlocking this mystery.

The authors earn our cheers and praise

    for mystical themes that they raise

    and for their most exciting book.

                                                                          You really should give it a look.

                                                                           I hope it will be a movie.

                                                                                 It’s one that I would like to see.

                                                                          Great scenes jump off of every page.

                                                                        This film could be box-office rage!

                                                                 

Amazon Kindle http://a.co/d/3rsam2v
Betty Jo serves as editor/lead critic for ReelTalk Movie Reviews and writes film commentary for the Colorado Senior Beacon. She also hosts “Movie Addict Headquarters” on BlogTalkRadio, and is the award-winning author of the following books: 
CONFESSIONS OF A MOVIE ADDICT
CINEMA STANZAS: RHYMING ABOUT MOVIES
SUSAN SARANDON: A TRUE MAVERICK 
http://www.bettyjotucker.com/Bio.html