Thorn: the All

By Peter Garth Hardy

The story of the one-hundred year-old oak tree with a consciousness culminates in an all-out battle between the lumber company and the men and women who would save him from the impending clear-cut. Thorn imparts his remaining wisdom upon Paxton, challenging him to become a prophet for his next incarnation, even as he attempts to convince Claire to be the mother of the Earths next great spiritual master. Tucker is caught between his loyalty to his friends and Thorns ominous warning that the counterpart to the coming Messiah has already been reborn and is even now plotting humanitys demise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524541842

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Copyright © 2016 by Peter Garth Hardy.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016915033

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-5245-4185-9

                Softcover        978-1-5245-4186-6

                eBook             978-1-5245-4184-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/24/2016

Xlibris

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Prologue

One Gravity

Two The Balance

Three The Eagle and the Vulture

Four The Lemming

Five Life is Dance

Six Four Dark Walls

Seven Where Do I Find My Significance?

Eight Trading Places

Nine Alone

Ten Channel Surfing

Eleven I Am The All

Twelve Love’s Hangover

Thirteen The Alpha and the Omega

Fourteen My Beloved

Fifteen The Moth

Sixteen The Human Supercomputer

Seventeen Rainy Day

Epilogue The Moment

Acknowledgements

A s this is the third book in the Thorn trilogy, I feel it appropriate to write a longer note of appreciation and thanks to all those people in my life who have offered me their friendship, love and support. I will begin with my 101 year-old grandmother, Virginia Tardiff, for her kindness and generosity and the genes inside this body which made this whole endeavor possible.

Thanks to my father and mother, Bryan Lewis Hardy and Carole Tardiff Sligh, for raising me in a loving, moral home and making me believe that I could accomplish anything. Thanks to my brothers and sister, Kyle, Bryan, Chris and Kelly, for sharing this life with me. Our mutual upbringing, more than any other factor, helped to shape the man I have become today.

Thanks to my wife, Meng, who has given me many years of happiness and love, not to mention two beautiful children. Thanks also to all three of my wonderful children, Zoe, Alex and Cassidy, for keeping me young and for loving me unconditionally.

Thanks to the many and varied friendships which have formed over these fifty years, from those of you I met in school, university and the Peace Corps, to the friends I enjoy here in the amazing community of Farmington, Maine. You are too numerous to mention by name, but I must single out my best friend, Chip Schwehm, whom I met at the University of Maine. Chip taught me to play the guitar, he gave me an appreciation for nature and he has stood by me through thick and thin these past thirty years.

This project was twenty years in the making and there were many people who have helped me to complete it. I am indebted to Tim Arnold, Rebekah Crisp and Jen Munn, who formed my sacred circle at the inception of this book and gave me invaluable early feedback. Thanks to my ex-wife and still-friend, Sarah Hardy, for her many read-throughs and editing changes. Several other people have been kind enough to read these books in their various stages of completion and offer suggestions and improvements, including my father and mother, my sister and soulmate Kelly, my friend and mentor Dan Gunn, Chip Schwehm and his wonderful wife Kate, and my daughter, Zoe Quinn-Kelly.

Although the music which accompanies these books was spawned from my poetry, there were many minds and hands at work in the transition from the written word to musical composition. I am very thankful for my son-in-law, Kevin Quinn-Kelly, who not only wrote the music for several songs but almost single-handedly produced the first and third CDs, not to mention the variety of instruments he played on both. Thanks to Ryan Jones for his friendship and lead guitar and the man-cave where Nuclear Salad practices. Thanks to Douglas Reusch for his fiddle and the ten years of friendship which has accompanied it. Thanks to Eric Rutberg and Brian McGowan for their musical talent on guitar, harmonica and bass. Dan Perkins not only played drums but also produced the second CD. I would again thank my wife and children, not only for adding their voices to my music, but for sharing in this life’s spectacular adventure. Lastly, I am grateful for my talented daughter, Zoe, and the artwork which has graced the covers of all three books.

"I thank you, All, for this wonderful life

and I thank you, All, for this beautiful sky!"

- Peter Garth Hardy

Heading for the Light

Thorn: The Tree

Cover design by Zoe Quinn-Kelly

(formerly Zoe Rose Hardy)

http://zoerosestudios.blogspot.com/

Author photo by Jaime Orrok Ranger

www.jaimelynnphoto.com

The original music which accompanies this novel was produced by

Kevin Quinn-Kelly and features Kevin on all of the instruments.

Also featured are Peter and Meng Hardy on vocals,

and Ryan Jones on guitar.

For more information visit www.thornsprophets.com

Dedication

This book is dedicated

to my children

upon whom rests

the fate of the world.

As you think, so shall you become.

- Bruce Lee

"The past has flown away.

The coming month and year do not exist.

Ours only is the present’s tiny point."

- Mahmud Shabistari

Prologue

Thursday, October 29th, 1999

I just woke up from an incredibly vivid dream of Africa. I even had that feeling of freedom, of timelessness, in the dream, which might be the thing I miss most about Africa - that feeling of timelessness. In Kenya I was living in the present moment. I must admit that I was a little depressed to wake up from my dream to find myself back in this house in Orono, Maine. Not that I’m unhappy in my present life, but I still dream, both figuratively and literally, of living a simple existence in rural Africa. But enough of my daydreaming, let me record last night’s actual dream:

I was traveling down a rocky road on the back of a lorry, with about forty other Kenyans. We were all covered in dust and sweat, standing up in the bed of the big truck, holding onto the support beams over our heads. The lorry was empty other than its human cargo and a few stray chickens, which meant we must have been moving toward civilization and away from my site. I got whacked in the hands by a low-lying acacia tree and that reminded me to pay attention to my surroundings.

The landscape we were traversing was almost desert-like, except that there were rocks instead of sand on the ground. Hardly an acacia tree dotted the landscape, which was dominated mostly by phallic termite mounds standing watch over their barren territories. The sun beat down upon us, but I had my suede hat on to protect my face. Still, my throat was parched and I was looking forward to finding a cold beer in town.

I started to look around the lorry at the faces of the other passengers, trying to spot a familiar one. It felt like the others were pressing in on me, and then I wasn’t in the lorry anymore, but standing in a crowd of people in some desert outpost, most probably Lodwar. I saw many of my Peace Corps friends in the crowd. Paul was there, and Chris, and Mike. Each of them smiled at me in turn before the pressing throng moved them from my view. Then I glimpsed a flash of long red hair and Annie’s favorite white dress. I would know that dress anywhere. I shuffled toward her but she was soon lost in the teeming masses. It seemed as if I would never find her again when suddenly she was there, smiling right in front of me. I kissed her, then grabbed her hand and started to lead her through the crowd.

In an instant I was back on the lorry again with Annie by my side, still holding my hand. It was dusk and the lorry was now lumbering over some rocky hills. There was no moon and the stars that were beginning to come out were impressive. I pointed out some constellations to Annie, proud to be showing off my newfound astronomical knowledge. She was keeping a lookout for shooting stars, and there seemed to be a lot of them. Then she started pointing excitedly at something in the sky, but I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the failing light. She continued to point and then her body began to lift up and off the back of the lorry, pulling me behind her. We rose up together, hand in hand, until we were above the lorry and looking down into it. No one seemed to notice that we were gone, nor that we were floating in the sky above them. Then I felt Annie’s hand tugging again at mine and we were flying over the desert, picking up speed as we went along.

It was then that I realized I was dreaming. Seeing Annie, even though my conscious mind knows she is dead, was not enough to kick start my lucid dream. It wasn’t until we took flight that I realized I was dreaming and I said to Annie, This is a dream, isn’t it?

She just smiled back at me. We continued to fly faster and faster over the changing landscape. Eventually we crossed a large body of water and then we were flying over desert once more. I wanted to practice my flying technique, but I couldn’t bear to remove my hand from hers, so I continued to let her lead me.

We finally started to slow down and then stopped completely, floating over a large desert town. Annie still had a hold of my hand, but we were descending slowly toward the ground. When we reached it she continued to tug me along, this time on foot. We walked through deserted streets and alleyways. She seemed to have a destination in mind.

Where are you taking me? I asked her.

Again she smiled as we stopped in front of an open window and she pushed me toward the light streaming through it. Inside was a small boy kneeling on a cushion, praying. His face was turned toward the window but his head was bowed so that I couldn’t get a good look at his features.

Do you notice the resemblance? Annie finally spoke to me.

No, I answered. Should I?

He is your son, she informed me.

What? I asked.

Please try not to feel guilty about it, she said.

What are you talking about? I asked. I don’t have a son.

But just then the boy looked up from his prayers, perhaps at the sound of our voices. Despite his dark skin, he looked much like I had as a boy. He gazed directly at me and smiled. There was something in his eyes, in his smile, that gave me the willies. It woke me up immediately and I lay in bed feeling shivers running up and down my spine.

I turned on the light and jotted down this account, not only because Thorn wants me to record my dreams, but also in the hopes that I wouldn’t fall back into that same dream. The end of it was creepy. I definitely didn’t like the evil glint I saw in that child’s eyes. Anyway, now it looks like the sky is lightening and since I am wide awake I think I’ll get an early start up to Blueberry Hill. No doubt Thorn will have something to say about my dream. He usually does!

Paxton Stevens

ONE

Gravity

Gravity anchors my body

but it cannot keep my

   spirit upon this Earth.

Reality poses gravity as truth

but what is real

   and what is not?

All of evolution

has been an attempt

   to overcome gravity.

Vacuums defy the force of gravity

nothingness can allow

   not even gravity to exist.

In the outer reaches of the cosmos

gravity tugs at the edge of the universe

   counteracting its forward momentum.

The yogi eats sparingly because gravity

takes a firmer hold on the body

   as food passes through it.

You cannot escape gravity

but you can alter reality

   so that gravity doesn’t matter.

W hat is that? asked Thorn, as Paxton situated himself comfortably at the base of the huge oak. He had spread a blanket on the ground as a shield against the frost and was seated cross-legged, an open notebook on his lap.

This is a tape recorder, Paxton answered, talking directly into the hand-held device. I’m going to start recording our conversations. I should have thought of this last week.

Great idea! enthused Thorn inside Paxton’s head. But won’t that be a little one-sided?

That’s what the notebook is for, Paxton explained, once again speaking into the tape recorder as though it were a walkie-talkie. I’ll record your words on paper and mine electronically. It’ll save me some writing.

Isn’t that your dream journal? observed Thorn.

Yes, Paxton replied. He had placed the recorder on the blanket beside him, but he leaned toward it subconsciously as he continued, It was the easiest thing for me to grab on my way out the door this morning.

Let’s talk about last night’s dream, Thorn suggested. Paxton wrote the words on the blank sheet of paper propped upon his right knee.

First I want you to tell me what happened yesterday with The Preacher, demanded Paxton. He could remember engaging The Preacher in theological debate and then hearing Thorn’s voice in his head. The next thing he could remember, after making the conscious decision to cede his mind over to Thorn, was waking up on the ground with concerned students fussing over him.

I finished the verbal duel that you had begun, explained Thorn. He wouldn’t listen to reason, of course, but rather began to shout Bible verses at me. I countered with Bible verses of my own, but when that was ineffective I had to take stronger measures.

Like what?

I raised the volume a few notches higher than his and quoted other great spiritual texts, in their original languages.

And that worked?

He could no longer be heard above me and when he realized he had lost his audience he walked away disgustedly.

Awesome! chirped Paxton. No one has ever bested The Preacher before, at least not to my knowledge.

You had better be wary of The Preacher now, Thorn advised. You’ve made an enemy of him.

"I’ve made an enemy of him? asked Paxton. You’re the one who talked him down."

Yes, but he doesn’t know that. And I’ll wager he doesn’t take defeat too well, not when it comes to the saving of souls.

Or whatever you want to call what he does, scoffed Paxton. I’d rather worry about the enemies right in front of us, like the lumber company.

Things are not always as they appear, offered Thorn. Enemies can become friends and friends can become enemies.

What are you talking about? asked Paxton.

As if in answer to his question, the bald eagle roosted high in Thorn’s branches chose that moment to emit a blood-curdling, Eeeiahh!

What was that? asked Paxton, looking up.

See for yourself.

Paxton could not make out the dark shape above him, even though the better part of the oak tree’s once full foliage lay on the grass around and beneath him. He stood up and backed out from under Thorn’s outstretched arms until he could discern the source of the disturbance.

That’s a bald eagle! he exclaimed.

He’s been sitting in that same spot since yesterday.

Really? asked Paxton. What do you suppose he’s doing there?

I know exactly what he’s doing there…

This could be the answer to our prayers, Paxton interrupted excitedly. They wouldn’t dare cut down a tree with a nesting bald eagle in it!

He’s not nesting, stated Thorn. But he will stay there until his strength gives out because that is what he has been compelled to do.

Compelled? By whom?

An old friend, answered Thorn, or enemy, if you will. A being who would like nothing better than to keep me trapped here in this tree as long as possible.

I’m not following you, informed Paxton.

Why don’t you sit back down and I will explain as much as I know.

Once Paxton had regained his seat on the blanket, Thorn continued, When we were in The Chords the other day, I revisited the scene of the Turkanan moondance you attended before leaving Africa. From your deep state of meditation I was able to get behind the blackout put up by your subconsciousness. I saw what really happened that night.

And? asked Paxton as Thorn paused.

You impregnated the Turkanan girl you had intercourse with that night.

No way! Paxton interjected incredulously. What girl? I don’t remember having sex with anyone that night!

Not surprising, offered Thorn, considering that you were drugged by their shaman shortly before it happened.

I’m, I’m a father? stammered Paxton.

You have a biological son whom you’ve never met, confirmed Thorn. As to whether or not that makes you a father…

I have a son, Paxton whispered to himself, not really hearing Thorn anymore. He was flabbergasted. He couldn’t decide whether he should feel guilty or proud.

There’s more, Thorn said flatly, breaking up his reverie. Do you remember that old acacia tree near your house? The one that spoke to you that night?

Of course, Paxton replied.

The soul that was encased in that tree has been reborn as your son.

But how can that be? asked Paxton. How can he be in two places at once?

The tree is no more, Thorn informed him. It was destroyed by an earthquake shortly after you left Kenya. When the tree died, its soul was freed to inhabit the fetus that you and the girl had conceived.

I dreamt about that earthquake! exclaimed Paxton. And last night I dreamt that Annie told me I had a son! She also told me not to feel guilty about it.

I agree that it would be best for you to lay aside your guilt, but you will need to work through it first. You are not responsible for what shall come to pass.

What do you mean? inquired Paxton.

Your son is no ordinary child, stated Thorn.

I should think not, kidded Paxton, pantomiming the proud father.

His coming has been foretold by the prophets of many religions…

Really? interrupted Paxton.

His arrival has been dreaded by the doomsayers continued Thorn.

What are you saying? asked Paxton, a queasy feeling forming in his stomach.

The appellate given to your son in the Christian tradition is The AntiChrist. The Hebrews call him Armilus. In Islam he is known as Dajjal…

You’re joking, right? interrupted Paxton.

I’ve never been more serious, Thorn responded. I’ve been having these dreams about him lately, but I couldn’t fully interpret them without the information I gleaned from your chord the other day. He was trapped in that old acacia tree until your ritual copulation enabled him to take human form once again.

Once again? repeated Paxton. What do you mean once again?

This is not his first human incarnation, offered Thorn, just his latest.

Oh, man, exclaimed Paxton, rising up to pace within the confines of his blanket. I am going to hell for sure.

I thought you didn’t believe in hell, returned Thorn. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You were merely a pawn. Someone had to sire him and I think he enjoyed that it was you because you are so close to me.

But I am the father of The Devil! shouted Paxton, raising both arms.

The Devil, Beelzebub, Lucifer, Old Nick, The Prince of Darkness, Mephistopheles, Satan, Hades, Pan. The Evil One has as many names as The All, and as many personas have been imagined to animate evil as have been for good. But just like The All, none of them really capture his essence.

What is his essence? asked Paxton.

Answering that question is tantamount to answering the question, ‘What is the essence of The All?’ said Thorn. Neither can be defined, nor completely understood, at this level of consciousness. But humans continue to try to do just that, inventing personas and mythologies to explain the two opposing forces of the universe.

What are the two opposing forces of the universe? asked Paxton obtusely.

They are most commonly referred to as good and evil, and both are necessary to maintain balance in the universe. Good cannot exist without evil and vice versa.

Yeah, but do good and evil really exist in and of themselves, or are they just labels we attach to observed behavior? asked Paxton.

Good and evil are physical forces, just like gravity. Does gravity exist?

We know gravity exists because we can feel it pulling us downward, reasoned Paxton. We can measure and quantify it.

Haven’t you ever felt evil? Or good for that matter? questioned Thorn. Are there not gradations of evil and good behavior?

Yeah, but…

Your study of gravity can be considered a study of the nature of evil, stated Thorn.

Now you’ve lost me, Thorn, admitted Paxton. Are you saying that gravity and evil are one and the same thing?

"No, but gravity is a part of the force which is labeled ‘evil.’ Think about it. The evolution on this planet has been, and continues to be, a struggle against gravity. What began as one-celled organisms in primordial slime eventually sprouted legs, crawled forth and grew ever bigger and taller. Legs became wings allowing for the possibility of flight. The stooped ape became the erect human.

"Everything human beings emulate is in an upward direction. Your sports heroes are the ones who can throw farther, jump higher and run faster. Your buildings and structures continue to get taller and taller. Your technology has enabled you to take flight and send emissaries and probes into outer space. Your God sits up in Heaven while your evildoers go down to Hell. Your angels are capable of flight while snakes and lizards and toads and the creepy-crawly things of the earth are associated with voodoo and black magic.

This upward attitude is pervasive in your language as well. You can live ‘high on the hog’ or be ‘down on your luck.’ The ‘upper class’ of society live ‘uptown’ while the ‘downtrodden’ live ‘downtown.’ The ‘upside’ puts you on ‘Cloud 9’ while the ‘downside’ could be your ‘downfall.’ But don’t be ‘down in the dumps,’ ‘downcast’ or ‘downhearted,’ your future is ‘looking up.’ You should have ‘high hopes’ for an ‘upward trend’ which will have you ‘flying high!’ When you die you will be ‘six feet under’ but your spirit will rise from your body. A kindhearted person is an angel and the symbol of the United States of America is a bald eagle, but a criminal is a snake, a slob is a grub and a lazy person is a slug. The lowly worm…

Slow down, Thorn, admonished Paxton, who had resumed his seated position and was frantically trying to transcribe Thorn’s monologue. I get the picture. I guess I never thought of it like that before. But I still wouldn’t equate the physical force of gravity with the metaphysical concept of evil, whether or not evil actually exists.

Nor would I, but they are both part of the force which favors down to up, chaos to order, darkness to light, backwards to forwards, earth to heaven, body to spirit…

Go on, urged Paxton when Thorn hesitated. I can tell you’re just getting started. But could you please go a little slower? I’m getting writer’s cramp trying to keep up with you!

Let me start at the beginning, offered Thorn in measured tones.

Always a good place to start, commented Paxton.

With the inception of the Big Bang, Thorn began in measured tones, the known universe began to expand at an ever increasing rate. This expansion, or forward motion, is part of the good and natural evolution of the cosmos.

Julia Cameron likens GOD to Good, Orderly Direction, interrupted Paxton, "in her book, The Artist’s Way."

Good, Orderly Direction. I like that, mused Thorn. Yes, our universe is moving in a good, orderly direction. Our universe is The All’s attempt to fill the endless void.

But if the void is endless, countered Paxton, how can it possibly be filled?

Good point, conceded Thorn. The universe could conceivably continue to expand throughout eternity, but there are forces akin to gravity which work against this expansion.

Yes, Paxton agreed. Today’s physicists believe that the universe will eventually reach the limits of its expansion and then begin to contract upon itself, like a rubber band which has been stretched as far as possible and then let go.

"And there are beings that believe it is better for the universe to return to the state of nothingness which existed before the Big Bang. Your Beelzebub is one such believer. It is the age-old struggle of creation versus destruction and the battle rages on. What is important about this age is that we have come to a balancing point between forward and backward motion, between expansion and contraction, between good and evil if you’d rather. What happens in the near future will determine the course not only of the Earth, but of our entire universe."

How so? questioned Paxton.

"I believe that any system, whether it be a planet or a solar system or a universe, will continue to exist until it becomes wholly good or wholly evil at which time it will burst like a bubble and cease to be. Since matter can neither be created nor destroyed, an equivalent system is spontaneously born as a result. Perhaps that’s how the Big Bang came to be, as a reaction to the demise of a universe similar to our own.

In any event, I think that the Earth is in a region of balance between the two competing forces at present and the direction she takes will be decided in the near future. Do you remember the analogy of The Weaver and her Tapestry of Life?

Paxton answered simply, Yes.

"Forget your two-dimensional view of the tapestry and imagine instead that it is being woven across the surface of a globe. Let the South Pole represent the Big Bang and picture the tapestry progressing upward toward the equator. If the tapestry is being woven at a constant rate, its vertical velocity will decelerate as it moves upward and has to cover more area. Now consider time to be a measure of this vertical velocity.

The first few billion years of this universe passed in the blink of The All’s eye, but then time slowed down. The Earth was formed about the time the tapestry reached the Tropic of Capricorn. The evolution on this planet took place over millennia as the tapestry ascended. The entire recorded history of this planet is but one small line at the equator of this imaginary globe and that is where the tapestry resides at the present time, which is why this Age is so important!

I’m not following you, said Paxton.

The opposing forces of creation and destruction have ever been at work since the beginning of time. The Weaver works her loom while The Destroyer seeks to unravel Her masterpiece, string by string. So far The Weaver has had the upper hand, but with the system near its balancing point, Her opposition is emboldened. Once the tapestry gets over the hump, so to speak, it will be much harder to retard or reverse its forward progress. Unfortunately, the same holds true if the system should decide to unravel and move backward. From the equator, time will accelerate in either direction. Modern humans are doing their best to foster this acceleration.

Isn’t that a good thing?