Editing Carl Ellis October 1928 - Diary

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We went "riding" today.  Um.  Well.  At least, we sat on horses and they moved.  Quite fast.  Whee.  Tony and Julian are both quite graceful on horseback.  Not so, myself; I never had the need nor the means, except for occasional pony rides.  It was troublesome, and no doubt quite amusing; I hurt now.  The only small consolation was that Rebecca was even less happy than I.  She clung grimly to her mount and was rather upset about the whole thing.  I should hate to be in Tony's shoes -- he suggested the ride!<br><br>
 
We went "riding" today.  Um.  Well.  At least, we sat on horses and they moved.  Quite fast.  Whee.  Tony and Julian are both quite graceful on horseback.  Not so, myself; I never had the need nor the means, except for occasional pony rides.  It was troublesome, and no doubt quite amusing; I hurt now.  The only small consolation was that Rebecca was even less happy than I.  She clung grimly to her mount and was rather upset about the whole thing.  I should hate to be in Tony's shoes -- he suggested the ride!<br><br>
 
Afterwards I spoke to Zigfried.  For the first time in, oh, I don't know how long it's been.  About the Light, and this and that, what he said to DAF, and so forth.  Emerson has shown him the bragging letter -- he say only that it ''is him'', the Black Man, one and the same for certain.  There is more; I can tell it in his eyes, but he did not say.  As for the rest -- he is not comfortably eloquent with poesy, it is difficult for him to speak of things that are not rational, things of the heart or spirit.  Ah well.  We will talk again.  We must; there is so much I have to learn from this man, and perhaps a bit to give as well.<br><br>
 
Afterwards I spoke to Zigfried.  For the first time in, oh, I don't know how long it's been.  About the Light, and this and that, what he said to DAF, and so forth.  Emerson has shown him the bragging letter -- he say only that it ''is him'', the Black Man, one and the same for certain.  There is more; I can tell it in his eyes, but he did not say.  As for the rest -- he is not comfortably eloquent with poesy, it is difficult for him to speak of things that are not rational, things of the heart or spirit.  Ah well.  We will talk again.  We must; there is so much I have to learn from this man, and perhaps a bit to give as well.<br><br>
Parsons is a curious fellow.  A Jazz musician with connections to the Mob.  Receptive, but aloof, I am unsure what to make of him -- how much hope I may place in him.  But Tony has invited him to Gathering, so what will happen will happen.<br><br>
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Parsons if a curious fellow.  A Jazz musician with connections to the Mob.  Receptive, but aloof, I am unsure what to make of him -- how much hope I may place in him.  But Tony has invited him to Gathering, so what will happen will happen.<br><br>
 
''Monday, 22 October 1928; Wisphers''<br><br>
 
''Monday, 22 October 1928; Wisphers''<br><br>
 
Tony is gone. Scooted off this morning.  Told no one.  Blast.<br><br>
 
Tony is gone. Scooted off this morning.  Told no one.  Blast.<br><br>
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Humbling.<br><br>
 
Humbling.<br><br>
 
''Friday, 26 October 1928; Wisphers''<br><br>
 
''Friday, 26 October 1928; Wisphers''<br><br>
I am contnually impressed and amazed by the sheer ''immensity'' of the thing!  Both within and without; as above, so below.  <br><br>
 
Deep inside, the Motherspirit of the house continues to touch and fill things with joy and meaning.  So huge, so long ... so QUICK!  Laughter, like ripples of whitegold music caressing a million-million souls -- instant -- forever -- harmony and crystal and green silver wood grass SELF and that whirling, spinning Radiance in the center!  Patience; love; protection; Giving; so wonderfully HAPPILY generous it is!<br><br>
 
On the surface, the Estate is serene and perfect.  The trees turning to fall; the rocks, the pond, the birds and small animals rustling in the undergrowth; like a fairytale.  The enchanted land.  All of the valley is owned by the estate; but the Estate itself, the Person within the walls, is more than a mile on a side, and so full!  So full.<br><br>
 
Beyond, the estate itself is huge!  The entire valley, thirty-four square miles, the whole village, all the vineyards; properties in France, Spain, England; mines in America; treasures and more treasures, priceless antiques; the ''Amûn'' itself; ... and ....<br><br>
 
So much.  So much.<br><br>
 
SO MUCH!  Oh, oh, oh -- how can I explain?  I am so small, to be given all this! So young, so new!  It fills my heart, my chest, the ache of need, and responsibility, and all the joy and sorrow bubble up and outward, coloring the world around me and the silence behind my eyes.  Shades of significance touch me, all the time.  I want to share.<br><br>
 
Do the see? Do they know?<br><br>
 
Everything is ... deeper.  Further away and closer, more important, all at once.  I feel as though the light has thickened, coloring things comehow new, different, more importantly.  And I look for that hint of awareness in others' eyes, a touch, a glance that says: I know.<br><br>
 
Do they?<br><br>
 
Daily, I feel it around me more easily.  An electric thrill underneath the obvious -- like the prickly feel of an oncoming storm.  Whenever I touch the House I know; I feel it; aware, loving, THERE.<br><br>
 
I am becoming more attuned to it, and it to me.<br><br>
 
And sometimes, just for an instant, I hear echoes of footfall before Bent arrives, or know he is present before he speaks.<br><br>
 
I am going to sign.<br><br>
 
 
''Sunday, 28 October 1928; Wisphers''<br><br>
 
''Sunday, 28 October 1928; Wisphers''<br><br>
 
Early morning.  Early.  I cannot sleep.  I am consumed anew by tragedy, sense of loss, dear things taken before they were ever known.  Weep, my heart of hearts!  To feel the closing of a dooe, so dear -- Oh!<br><br>
 
Early morning.  Early.  I cannot sleep.  I am consumed anew by tragedy, sense of loss, dear things taken before they were ever known.  Weep, my heart of hearts!  To feel the closing of a dooe, so dear -- Oh!<br><br>

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