Sorghum’s Galaxy Gazettes: Sci-Fi Allegory of a Transformed Starwalker

By Dianne Brown

How do you explain the unexplainable when there are no words or colors to describe the transformation of a starwalker? For Diana Sue, who retired from the art scene years ago, the change was a long and arduous journey, weighing in the balance scale all that she had been taught to believe and hold true. Through the efforts of her Galaxy Gazettes, she could feel the hard shell of her chrysalis breaking off in pieces and crumbling on the ground. Inside that hard shell was a mulch-like soup of old beliefs and paradigms that would produce her emergence as a new creature.

Sorghum’s Galaxy Gazettes are streaming, soul-changing tales told in symbolic form. The Gazettes have a wide distribution along the many ports of trade in the Milky Way. The Galaxy Alliance Treaty Organization (GATO) closely monitors Diana’s progress in her discovery of her true identity. Sorghum—Sirius C—is held in high regard by GATO for its exports as well as being Diana’s inheritance.

Accompanied by Imagines (pronounced i-mah-ja-nees), Diana Sue finds herself traveling the Milky Way galaxy with her handsome navigator. She discovers a surprising and ageless relationship between them that began long before her birth on Earth. Throughout their travels, they form an even stronger bond. Under the tutelage of Imagines and along with several other unexpected—maybe startling—characters, Diana Sue uncovers a new sense of purpose not only on Earth but also for her future on Sorghum.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Mar 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781982223557

Dianne Brown

Dianne Brown is the author of "The Cowgirl Princess and Starwalker: My Mother's Story" The epilogue of this first book has become the prologue of her extraordinary second book, which will lead you to think about your own identity. Raised in Southern Indiana on the banks of the Ohio River, Dianne became familiar with the cultivation and production of sorghum. Sorghum, not only the syrupy condiment but also a star in the Sirius star system, more than eight light years from Earth, which plays a vital role in this book. Living in Northern California for over thirty years with her husband Rich, she finds that the exceptional energy of the Trinity Mountains has infused her with a new breed of imagination. Raised in Southern Indiana on the banks of the Ohio River, Dianne became familiar with the cultivation and production of sorghum. Sorghum, not only the syrupy condiment but also a star in the Sirius Star system, more than eight light years from Earth, places a vial role in this book. Living in Northern California for over thirty years with her husband Rich, she finds that the exceptional energy of the trinity mountains has infused her with a new breed of imagination.

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Copyright © 2019 Dianne Brown.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

•Scripture quotations marked RSV are taken from the Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1946, 1952, and 1971 the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

•Scripture quotations marked CEB are taken from the Common English Bible, Copyright © 2011 by the Common English Bible Committee. All rights reserved.

•Scripture quotations marked NKJV are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

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

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2352-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2355-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019902888

Balboa Press rev. date: 03/26/2019

CONTENTS

Acknowledgements

Introduction

A Cosmic Commentary

Chapter 1 The Invitation

Chapter 2 Sorghum’s Conciliatarium

Chapter 3 A Jack-and-The-Beanstalk Kind of Bean

Chapter 4 The Beautiful Game

Chapter 5 What About Jesus?

Chapter 6 Renaissance

Chapter 7 What About Christ?

Chapter 8 You are Special

Chapter 9 The 2017 Sorghum Festival

Chapter 10 Thoughts in Progress

For my husband Rich,

who after thirty-three years continues to enrich my life.

"Let us go forth, the teller of tales,

and seize whatever prey the heart longs for,

and have no fear. Everything exists, everything is true,

and the earth is only a little dust under our feet."

—W. B. Yeats

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

M y husband Rich, the gold miner (mentioned often in this book), in 2005 asked me to order a book for him by Zecharia Sitchin. The title was Genesis Revisited. I am not sure if Rich read the book, but I did. That book took me by surprise. Some of what Mr. Sitchin wrote about had me in tailspins. This was nothing I had been taught in any class ever. This book catapulted me out of the proverbial box like a Saturn V rocket. Genesis Revisited was the catalyst for my fourteen years of searching not particularly for ancient aliens or visitors to Earth who may or may not have manipulated our species to cause what we call the missing link. Instead, it was the impetus for me to read and know the Bible in a very different way.

During those fourteen years, I pursued truth. Truth for me, not what others call their truth or the truth, but my truth was the quest. In that respect, there are hundreds of writers I have read that I can attribute gratitude for helping me to get to the point of writing this book.

I want to thank my two proofreaders. Jeanne Muir is the owner and gracious hostess of the Weaverville Hotel and Emporium. In addition to proofing my book for typos and grammatical errors, she also wrote a lengthy note of praise for what I had written, which filled my sails with fresh wind. My other proofreader is my sister, Sandra Faella. Sandy was excellent in her work and had many suggestions that I found helpful. My sister Pat, the English teacher, proofed and helped me edit my cover text.

I especially want to thank my dear friend Jeanette Wilson who would listen to me read each chapter as I finished. Not only did she express excitement, but she also had wonderfully contagious suggestions for future episodes regarding Stella and Betyl.

I thank my husband Rich who would for hours, days, weeks, months, and years look at the back of my head as I typed away on another chapter or revision of a section. His constant encouragement is my inspiration.

I cannot thank enough Linda Lee of [e-mail], who through her artistic alchemy created the fantastic cover for this book from a rough canstockphoto I gave her. Using the same talents, she also designed the cover for my first book, The Cowgirl Princess and Starwalker: My Mother’s Story.

INTRODUCTION

"I have dreamed in my life, dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they have gone through and through me,

like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind."

—Emily Bronte

W riting this book was difficult at times due to the vulnerable position I believed I was putting myself in by telling my truth. However, in retrospect Sorghum’s Galaxy Gazettes —a collection of the revelations and revisions of my perceptions—has brought tremendous joy and peace to me. Amid all that joy and peace grows an unquenchable desire to know more, feel more, and experience more, not only here on Earth, but throughout the galaxy. In that regard, I am compelled to construct the holes for my windows a little larger.

For those of you who are more schooled than I in the sciences and metaphysical realms, my apologies if I caused you to cringe or gnash your teeth at some of my descriptions. And, for those of you long-lived and learned in Christian doctrine, my intent is not to offend your images and beliefs, but instead, I hope to inspire you to take the time to expand and apply your imagination to whomever you have dedicated your trust and devotion to concerning your daily life, whether they be here on Earth or elsewhere.

I introduced Imagines (pronounced i-mah-ja-nees) and Sorghum in The Cowgirl Princess and Starwalker: My Mother’s Story. Some found my sudden and somewhat unanticipated flip from this world to another on a distant star known as the Third Dog Star, or Sirius C to be confusing. Sirius C is also known to the Dogon tribe in Mali, Africa as Emme ya tolo, which translates to Star of Sorghum Female. Sorghum is believed by the Dogon to be the seat of the female soul.

This book, which takes place mostly on Sorghum will either eliminate confusion or exacerbate it. Either way, it could provoke one to take umbrage, or with an imaginative and open mind, it may bring about appreciation. I hope for you it is the latter.

Imagines is and has been my guide and mentor for over eight years. Who or what is Imagines? Some say he is my higher self. Others think that Imagines is my guardian angel or a loving, benevolent guide sent to promote my spiritual and emotional growth since I was a tiny acorn in my mother’s belly. I have even wondered if Imagines is a tulpa that I created in my mind, and he has taken on a distinct personality with opinions and knowledge of his own beyond my grasp and understanding.

For those of you not familiar with tulpas, tulpas are sentient, original beings with no corporal body. They can look like anything the mind can conjure—a tree, a dog, a rock, a person, a morphing blob, anything! Tulpas can be seen solely in your mind or can be manifested physically with much practice. Of course, the tulpa’s form is in a way hallucinogenic. You may be able to see it, but you cannot touch it, and others won’t be able to see it.

It is essential to understand that tulpas are a fully sentient segment of your conscious. The visualization of its body is considered an advanced hallucination. Buddhist Monks use it as inspiration, a way to calm fears, to try new things, and as a method toward self-discovery.

Imagines is an entity that I have grown to rely upon and love. You are free to form your own opinions as you read more about him and our daring (for me) exploits in the Milky Way Galaxy.

"We are all mothers of God,

for God is always needing to be born."

—Meister Eckhart

Meister Eckhart was a German monist philosopher, mystic, and theologian of the Catholic Church. He was born 1260 in Germany and died 1328 in Avignon, France. I chose this quote because the Galaxy Gazettes are the stories of me giving birth to my God. I believe we all give birth to God, a god, a non-god, or accept the God presented to us in various holy writings.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t believe that God, the Creator of all could fit in me or has a name or a face. What I discovered for myself is similar to this: "Nameless is the beginning of Heaven and Earth. The named is the mother of all things." This teaching is in the first chapter of the Tao Te Ching, attributed to Lao Tzu.

In the Gazettes, you will see many names that have been given to God by mortals. I use the word God from time to time because it is the word most understood by all people and the one I grew up with.

What I mean by my giving birth to God is that I have spent years reading and often rejecting some of the holy writing’s descriptions and characterizations of what they call God. However, there are just as many books that contain something that touched a chord in me, resounding in the magical key of middle C that said, Yes, this could be possible.

Most of my revelations come from inner work with no books, CDs, DVDs, or lectures. It is just me, along with Imagines and another friend of ours that you will meet later in the book.

Paulo Coelho, a Brazilian lyricist, and novelist said, Writing is the socially acceptable way of getting naked in public. And so it is.

Have fun with this; I intend to bedazzle you with my stories so that you won’t notice my nakedness and become distracted, thereby missing the possibilities presented.

A COSMIC COMMENTARY

"We began as wanderers, and we are wanderers still.

We have lingered long enough on the shores of the Cosmic Ocean.

We are ready to set sail for the stars."

—Carl Sagan

S tella is a miniature, white dwarf star and Betyl is a rather small, roundish, black meteorite. The two of them frequently meet on the International Space Station (ISS) to share their opinions with each other about the previous episode in Diana Sue’s story of her developing consciousness.

When meeting on the ISS, these two appear in a human-like form. Stella is petite, as you would imagine Tinker Bell to be only Stella is a bit more significant in size. I would estimate her to be just a little less than five feet tall. She has refrigerator-white skin with massive, curly white hair, which makes one think there is a giant halo about her head. Stella’s eyes are as black and shiny as two matched obsidian pearls.

Betyl, on the other hand, is somewhat chubby, and just a few inches taller than Stella. His skin is midnight black, and he has equally black spiky hair that is reminiscent of unusually dark dragon fruit. Betyl’s eyes are disquieting in their unsuspected pure whiteness. No animal or human has white irises with matching white sclera—none but Betyl.

And so, these two ISS sojourners are long-time friends who love to bicker and challenge each other while they give their sometimes-opposing opinions about the supposedly unaware writer of the Sorghum’s Galaxy Gazettes. During their meetings on the Station, Stella and Betyl come to develop a more profound and surprising relationship that changes their existence in space forever.

The Gazettes comprised of streaming and episodic tales about Diana Sue’s transformation of her mind and soul is a favorite read in the Milky Way. In it, she tells of her mentor Imagines (pronounced: i-mah-ja-nees) who flies her to and from Sorghum in his starship. Sometimes Imagines will stop on other stars to further Diana’s training and preparation for her future life on Sorghum. The Galaxy Gazettes have a broad distribution among the many ports along the Sorghum trade routes.

Sorghum (the syrup) is a highly valued commodity on the other stars and planets in The Way. In exchange for the precious condiment, Sorghum’s commercial starship The Carina will return home laden with exotic fruits and vegetables that are not able to grow in Sorghum’s soil. In addition to the produce, there will be kegs of wine, various kinds of beer, and Baijiu, a whiskey made from sorghum. These latter three are reserved for the annual festivals and other important celebrations and perhaps a sip or two along the way to bolster one’s constitution on a chilly day.

Diana’s father Prince Carl, in addition to overseeing the entire production process of Sorghum, proudly publishes the Gazettes and along with Imagines manages its distribution throughout the galaxy.

For their reasons, Stella and Betyl have taken a keen interest in Diana Sue and her publication. Because of that, their opinions will be presented to clarify the challenging and sometimes-arduous journey of the Gazettes’ author, who believes the clamoring goings-on in her head to only be the white dog and the black dog barking at each other and vying for a piece of her sanity.

Along with the two ISS critics, Imagines, and a cast of others that you may find familiar help Diana to overcome her fear of how people will react to what she thinks and therefore writes. Sorghum’s Galaxy Gazettes reveal the transformative journey of Diana Sue through her conscious and deliberate effort to expand her soul-mind.

ON THE INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION

She’s not going to finish it, Betyl said. He shoved the last half of the banana he was holding into his mouth and flippantly threw the yellow peel over the side of the ISS.

Stella looked at his bulging cheeks with disgust. You shouldn’t toss that into space; it’ll freeze and float with the rest of the junk out there for eternity. Besides, I believe Diana will finish the book.

Betyl swallowed the remains of the banana with audible and obnoxious sounds. It’s taking her forever; she has started over three times that I am aware. Not only that but every time she ends an episode, she sinks into some form of depression. I am not sure that is the right term for it, but Diana has skirmishes and battles in her mind for weeks. It doesn’t look promising to me, Betyl said as he stood up and on tiptoe, stretched, arched his back, and yawned loudly. Looking at Stella with a sly Grinchifyed smile, he said, I know, let’s make a wager on it!

What kind of wager? Stella asked as she now faced him. Standing with her feet apart, hands on her hips, and her head cocked she stared distrustfully into Betyl’s weird white eyes.

Hmmm, let’s see. OK, I know. I will personally finance the publication of Diana’s book. But, only if she has it finished by ... let me think … by her birthday in May of 2018. If she doesn’t have it finished by then, you will have to provide me with all the fruit from Earth that I can eat for an entire year.

Stella thought about Betyl’s enormous love of the fruit that grows on Earth.

She calculated the time involved in transporting it to the ISS from Earth, which is an approximate distance of 250 miles. Knowing it would probably be at least a trip every other week to satisfy his ravenous appetite, Stella sighed deeply.

Then she thought of what it would mean to Diana to miraculously have the means to publish her book on Earth in a first-class professional manner. Not having a clue as to how Betyl would fund the publishing, she assumed if he had bananas from Earth, he could get the medium of exchange that was relevant to Diana and Earth publishers. But, most of all, Stella knew what it would mean for her to win a bet with Betyl—she could hold that over him for eons and then some.

Alright Mr. Smarty-pants-Betyl, you are on! Stella said with purposefulness and commitment in her voice. Each convinced of their victory aggressively shook hands to seal this extraordinarily auspicious wager. Neither one knew the transformative effect it would have on both their lives.

Tight-lipped smiles upon both their faces they turned and flew into space, each in a separate direction, as though it were intentional separation.

And if you could, you would have seen Stella and Betyl flitting and fluttering about like two Galactic butterflies in a field of cosmic clover, each giddily persuaded of their eventual success.

THE INVITATION

"Many have long suspected that the very concepts of near and far may be a stratagem of our local minds—more a habit or a cultural dictum than the way things really are. But now we discover what poets and mystics have always suspected: our minds are stargates, our bodies celled of mysteries; what was taken to be remote is actually our near neighbor in the all-reaching compass of the mind."

From Jean Houston’s forward to Russell Targ’s book, Limitless Mind

T he invitation came the day before yesterday. It was both sudden and mysterious in its method of arrival. Never did I ever dream it possible to receive such a fortunate invite as this. It read in elegant script:

We request your appearance at

The Coronation Ceremony,

Which is taking place tomorrow.

You may bring a trustworthy guest

Of your choice.

We have provided transportation for you.

Departure is at 9:00 A.M.

The invitation is a Day Pass only, for you must

Return home in twelve hours.

Please dress appropriately.

Now, what could this possibly mean my puzzled mind wondered? But of course, I would attend—it’s a coronation after all!

I spent part of the day on the computer checking to see if Wikipedia knew what would be appropriate for me to wear to a coronation. Even investigating Great Britain’s registry of dress protocol for royal events produced nothing that would work for me.

Whose coronation? I wondered while going through my wardrobe, which was deplorably lacking in formal attire. I remembered there was a unique garment bag somewhere in the farthest reaches of my closet. Leafing through the clothes like a hanging file cabinet, I finally came to it and brought the garment bag out and laid it on the bed.

This just might do the trick, I said out loud while unzipping the bag. No sooner had the zipper opened just the tiniest little bit, the marvelous minuscule flashing lights became visible. Oh my, I said to Chris, how could anyone forget a dress like this?

Lola designed and made the gown for me over ten years ago. Lola is a talented cosmic fabric-crafter in a little dressmaker’s shop on Wezen—Delta Canis Majoris—the star in the belly of the larger of Orion’s two hunting dog.

Never having worn this dress, I knew there would come a time—such as this—that it would be the perfect attire. The dress is constructed entirely of a fiber-optic material with twinkling and sparkling lights, much like the night sky with a new moon. The best thing about the gown is the occasional flickering flash of lightning, which would travel from the top of the dress to the hem and then back to another of its slumbering places.

If only it will fit, I said to Chris, who was lying beside the bed and emitting low thunder-like grumbles at the never-before-seen light display. Dropping the gown over my head, mentally crossing my fingers, I gently pulled the zipper up the side with remarkable ease. Aaaaaah, I sighed and let out my held breath. It fits!"

The special slippers to go with the fantastic gown were at the bottom of the garment bag in their blue velvet pouches. Although confident they would fit, as there were no corns or knobby things protruding anywhere on my feet, I sat down to try them on to be sure. I took each one out of its nest and held it up to the light. My smiling face reflected in each one. They were so elegant with their mirror finish that was designed to reflect the starlight activity in the dress. Like my gown, they fit perfectly, as if custom made just this day for me.

Since Rich was out of town, Chris, my faithful companion and devoted friend of the utmost bonded sort, would be my chosen trustworthy guest to accompany me to the coronation tomorrow. Assuming that his lovely rich brown coat would be suitable attire for the ceremony, I bathed and brushed him and called it just right. I packed plenty of his favorite snacks to take for the ride to and from the event—wherever it was.

You can probably imagine how difficult it was for me to fall asleep that night with all the questions orbiting the territories of my mind. I hoped there would be Delphic utterances in my dreams or maybe prophetic messages that would linger in my memory. My prayers were that I would wake in the morning somewhat apprised of the coronation details, or that at least I would know where the coronation was to take place.

CORONATION DAY (YESTERDAY)

No dreams, no utterances, no clues came during the night. Not giving myself the pleasure to lie in bed and think about it, I got up right away to start preparations for the trip. The plan was to wear the gown to-and-from the event. That means I must do something gown-worthy with my hair, which would require a little more time. Multi-tasking, I ate my toast with crunchy peanut butter during the coiffing process.

Chris was vigilant in cleaning up any crumbs that dropped. He was also willing to let me brush his teeth with cinnamon toothpaste, which he promptly swallowed. Spritzing him with a little lavender water, I felt confident about his grooming.

Walking into the bedroom, I saw Mom’s bottle of Evening in Paris perfume sitting on the bookcase shelf. A little touch of Mom will make this perfect for me, I thought to myself and dabbed a tiny drop on my pulse points.

At 8:45 A.M., Chris and I were sitting on the back porch steps waiting for