COSMIC TRANSLATION CLASS 23 - cliff trying to get book published The book is one written by Cliff Livingstone, titled The CliffR Project. I am in it, which is why I can refer it. The book is not yet published, or online circ January 2003. -------Original Message------- From: Mystery Writer Date: Saturday, November 30, 2002 08:15:15 To: Greydon Moore Subject: Bird signals Do you signal back in the same way? (head touch to each shoulder)? I have noticed some of the things you mentioned, but not all. I will look for them. My father was an avid bird watcher and would sometimes take me with him. Some of my earliest memories ar e of him gazing upward, sometimes through binoculars. We also always had bird seed out, so could watch them from the back porch. I like squirrels but my parents used to chase them away because they ate all the bird seed! I think you can just leave out pea nuts for them and the bird seed will be second choice. ----- Original Message ----- From: Greydon Moore Sent: Friday, November 29, 2002 10:40 PM To: Mystery Writer Subject: Re: Please read before the "Extract" email Yes. Cliff is trying to get the book published, interesting publishing offers except all of the kind where a deposit is paid up front, the publisher promotes, then revenues are generously shared if the book takes off. Cliff's book has no evil empire content in any intent toward furthering death decay and disintigration through drugs sex and rock and roll. We like to say the book has no pussy or gunfights, like James Bond, which was a criticism levied against my writing 15 years ago who, by a one time publisher of an international ecology newspaper owner/editor who I'd asked for advice on where I might turn to get some publishing. This was before bulletin boards, before the Internet. Above you see about the only place I used the word 'death' as a statement of condition rather than an individual's fate. Forget in mentioning before the skill in avoiding use of the word 'death', that 'demise' is my main substitute if for instance talking about someone who has glided over the hill or gone back upstairs. Birds do talk, birds who visit your yard for snacks will do everything they can to get your attention if you turn up on a mall or supermarket parking lot miles away, they make such holler you cannot help but spot where they are poised, to come flying forward the moment you see them and you know they are happily saying hello to a friend outside the friends own territory, crows and seagulls seem best at waving to friends but red wing blackbirds also seem to carry their friendships with them wherever they go, for instance wandering many blocks from home and suddenly from out of a tall tree the hello from one or more and the moment you acknowledge back the flyby straight out of the tree toward you. Seagulls will glide out of their way around out of the flock and down zooming low over your head if they see you step out of your car or a store door and no one else is around with usual vibes bad enough to drive birds away, squirrels and chipmonks are the same, taking off with one loud shriek if bad vibes suddenly appear to spoil their confort zone feeling at peace in safety with you present nearby. It takes time to get used to bird signals and sounds used for communication. A sudden particularly loud bird whistle or chirp seeming to be straight in your ear is a birds way of directing its vibration along with its sounds straight to you. Touching one shoulder with your chin, then the other, is the universal greeting in birdland. You see birds tapping a branch or a wing and scientists think they are scenting but what it is is birds signalling that here intermixing of species is safe, it is a universal signal which as far as I know all birds use. When you signal back, after a bird has signalled for instance by touching a branch, watch how keen and eager they can become about you, hopes not too high though they still like to keep their distance although for instance bluejays even robins can come in much closer and seem comfortable as long as you do not make sudden moves or try to move in too close birds perfer to do the moving according to their own heeds of safety and warning. Greydie/ -------Original Message------- From: Mystery Writer Date: Friday, November 29, 2002 19:32:14 To: Greydon Moore Subject: Please read before the "Extract" email Greydon, I have had to work last night and all day on cell phones, laptops, PC's, and regular phones.. Happily I had the two sites you sent me to go to when I just couldn't take techno-babble any longer (Some of it I just don't understand, so I say, "uh huh", and pretend I do just to make it stop). Anyway, the writing on the cars and the animals was light and happy and nice to read, and it is UNBELIEVABLE how much I learned about myself car-wise. I did not read everything, but as much as I could fit between all the work. I also had to go out and get things for work today too, and do you know what i noticed? I am not a conscious driver. Even when I wrote to you last night that I didn't know what set my bad car karma into motion, a little voice (that seemed located in the back of my neck now that I think of it!) said, You don't pay attention. You don't pay attention. You DO NOT pay attention." That is my biggest problem. Even the incident where the girl kicked my car was due to the fact that I was smiling at the dog, but being totally unaware of the effect I was having on one of the humans. That was sort of car karma too. At one point today, I tried to go through a yellow light, realized I couldn't make it, and screeched to a stop, drawing unhappy and well-deserved 'looks' from other drivers. (this is why I hate the work world. I feel rushed too much. I have to learn to keep inner peace here too.) Now I would work hard NOT to do that again, simply because it would scare other people. Lessons like that make me work backwards. In order not to screech like that again, I cannot speed toward lights, so this will make me search more for peace and relaxation. How could I have not thought of that before? Furthermore, my karma seemed to return more quickly this day, simply because I caught all my 'bad' actions mentally. At one point I said to I-don t-know-who, "I'm sorry. Can we skip the karma for what I just did?" But it came soon anyway. Thank you to you and your brother for a healthy dose of awareness. Now onto birds! Both you and your brother should definitely publish more. About 2 weeks ago I said to Clyde that I found it hard to believe bird just chirped. They HAVE to be actually talking because their sounds are so animated and varied. It was nice seeing you both thought that way. I totally believe you communicate with birds. I talk to the fish in my tank, and they respond, even after being fed -- so I know it's not just 'hunger' that looks like communication. I can feel the connection. The squirrel and chipmunk stories were adorable too. You sound like you both get along really well... What a nice bunch of memories in those two sites. ----- Original Message ----- From: Greydon Moore Sent: Friday, November 29, 2002 4:15 AM To: Mystery Writer Subject: Re: - Karma - on the go, out, back, recycled. You know, it is possible reading Karmic Car Cycles might just bring to mind why cause seems to have resulted in effects involving cars with you, I know I had no idea whatever about accumulating points out, points back in, when it comes to cars, until reading Karmic Car Cycles and all of a sudden numerous little mysterious from the past involving cars suddenly had explanation. Have fun reading it, feel free to understand that the writer, my twin brother, is not unlike the way he writes. Greydie/ -------Original Message------- From: Mystery Writer Date: Thursday, November 28, 2002 11:06:44 To: Greydon Moore Subject: Re: Karma - on the go, out, back, recycled. Greydon, I'm looking forward to reading Karmic Car Cycles. Right now Clyde and I are heading out for a while and I will read it later. I am particularly interested in this because I really had a few accidents for a while, even though I think I am a good driver, ha ha. I also had much pen karma from walking away (not on purpose) with other people's pens! The ink would explode on my hands, in my purse. I am very careful with pens now. Car karma has improved too. Still I don't know what I ever did to set the bad car karma in motion, or what I have done to better it. Maybe when I read missingmass.net/karmic.txt and missingmass.net/karmicdo.txt, I will find out . Will let you know later, Mystery Writer ----- Original Message ----- From: Greydon Moore Sent: Monday, November 18, 2002 11:29 PM To: Mystery Writer Subject: Re: Karma - on the go, out, back, recycled. Hi Mystery Writer I waited a day for response on this email because it was so potent. See, how many others can reveal in a few words, a glimpse, a deep understanding of Karma and its values, nonvalues. I had long been aware of Karma per se since my early 20's (now 63) and paid usual lip service notice too it even during hippy heydays of the latter 60's where many hippies were delved well into Karma concepts I concidered these overboard and still paid only lip service. It was four years ago (1998) when my twin brother descided to sit down and start writing the book he had been secretely thinking of for years I knew nothing of this 'book' until he handed my the first finished, opening passage, called Karmic Car Cycles, and all of a sudden whoah hey this makes complete sense, it is real. You have written yesterday a similar 'hey', soooo, thought you might be interested in the Karmic Car Cycles to reafirm your affirmatives in confirmation from an outside source, this is how wisdom expands, a bit of this, a bit of that, more of this, soon enough, the wise and aware have another new wisdom. The Karmic Car Cycles in a text file (quick to load on slow modem) at: (missingmass.net/karmic.txt) There is another passage, he wrote a few months later, dealing with his favorite animal stories, it is: (missingmass.net/karmicdo.txt). Your friend Greydie/ (insert) NOBBY'S PARADISE Nobby is a short cheerful japanese fella with the fully functioning name Nobby. In japan everyone would call him Nobby, here in the west (in canada) the name seems a nick name, but in japan, Nobby is a fully functioning name. Nobby was asked, by me one day, driving him on emergency favor from the far west side of town (big city Ottawa) to the east side of town we two pooling along a derelect side street me suddenly enquiring from Nobby, because of the way our conversation had just melted in a high speed turn, what Nobby actually thought was paradise. Without hesitation Nobby replied it was right here, on earth, everything we see around us is paradise because it is life. How instantly my thoughts changed about how much Nobby might actually know, because everything I see around me, called earth, is hell. Nobby, it turns out, had no idea that paradise was anywhere else but here, and that paradise couldn't get any better. Nobby was of particular interest because not only did he help us with funds unasked and favors given no thought of reward, he seemed to be intuitionally on call, turning up unexpected when most needed to solve a dire problem. For instance Nobby had decided it was time to move on from his 4 year old buick skylark into something more elegant, befitting his new better salary as a supervising engineer with the high roller rapidly expanding super money explosive called hi teck Newbridge sprung up in Ottawa out of the ashes of Mitel of which the new multi-millionair owner of Newbridge had been one of the two principle owners of Mital at the time it was sold to compatable british investors. Nobby had been a friend of the new newbridge co. owner and had been called in right from the start as a supervising engineer responsible for determining that softwares worked driving devices before the new devices went to market. Nobby found out, by checking around, that he could do better financially by giving his old buick skylark away than by using it as a trade in. He had been scouting a brand new subaru, quite a step up in auto class from the buick skylark. The skylark had been used 5 days a week to boot along the Queensway east to far west out in Kanata, and everyday back at 5 pm., and once a month down to toronto for the weekend visiting japanese relatives. The buick skyhawk, you guessed, by the time it was ready for trade in, had a lot of clicks, pushing over 200,000 in just four years. Dealers offered so much for buying the skyhawk from Nobby, so much with the skyhawk as a trade-in, and a brand new Subaru for $1,500 less than using the skyhawk as a trade in, the $1,500 exactly what it was worth concidering the high milleage, and air conditioner unit broken needing a $400 aluminum weld to fix the leaking air conditioner condencer tube. Nobby gave us the car, handed us the keys, as a $1,500 gift, since it did not actually cost him a cent in terms of the subaru he wanted to buy. One thing wrong shortly after it landed parked in our driveway, is that the taillights for brakes went out. A long saga car dealer after repair shop shook their heads until one started running the wires from front to back and discovered a wire shorting in place after a small time collision repair had been careless who knows back when. Nobby did not like that, felt responsible, but in secret, felt he had let us down. When the turn signals suddenly failed to work, Nobby figured it was his jananese tradition of honor and to save face that he fix it, after all it was his car, and he had passed it on supposedly in his mind trouble free, that was the entire way he had wanted us to recieve it. It began with a search through the house for the big manual of GM cars of all makes Nobby had passed on with the keys to the car, passing the manual as big as a telephone book onto me, I got rid of it a couple of months later in seeing it migrate from one awkward place to another around our environment, so pitched it one day along with a few expired telephone books. The owner's manual had nothing about taillights and another how to change a burned out turn signal by replacing the whole tailight unit for $147 to fix the burned out bulb. This was different, as explained to a dealer who wanted to schedule immediately we prepaying replacing both tail light assemblies, the whole turn signal unit itsef has stopped working, no off and on clicks, explained my brother spinning a u-ee getting the heck out of that dealer's place muttering about pirates. Since the master manual no longer existed, Nobby went out to car dealers and repair shops looking for references, and finally came back to our house knowing enough - the repair of the turn signals took place in a space just to the right of the steering column behind the dash, this place is where you insert in space plugged into the wires the new module to get the turn signals working again. When the saga had first began, I had been dispatched to Canadian Tire to get a new module, it cost less than $15.00. One hour passing into two, then three, Nobby streched out his short japanese length along the dash, then under it, then the dash removed, another hour passed, then another, then after six hours it now long past sunset, Nobby strolls into the house announcing 'well, its working'. Turns out the module was wired in behind the dash all right, but to the right well beyond the radio, which is why four trained mechanics and buick specialists had failed to find it. Nobby had found it, well outside the box, the square of influence that had baffled the specialists was dissolved by Nobby looking further and further afield knowing it HAD to be somewhere then finding it behind the dash in a tangle of wires almost near the right side heat vents. The manuals were wrong, or, this car had been wired wrong. In either case, Nobby had fixed it. And THIS was the same Nobby who thought paradise was right here on earth in everything you see looking around you in the 3rd dimension. The ideas of beyond world paradise, such as the moslems have, had never entered Nobby's mind not even once in his whole lifetime, said he, not even once. I have to tell you that during that drive, and its aftermath upon the discovery of Nobby's Paradise, that we almost separated on a note of disagreement, the only note cropping up thus far in a friendship going back several years. It was not that I was so amazed at what I learned was Nobby's Paradise, it was Nobby in thinking he couldn't believe I didn't know where paradise was, all around us in the 3rd dimension. For a fact, neither of us has mentioned the word paradise in the 10 years since that conversation on that fateful day I drove him home as a favor paying back some of what he had done for us. My news on paradise I figure is the rest of the payback, getting it from me I figure was a lot more valuable to japanese him them getting it from a non japanese religious writer. The car, incidentally, turned into a chrystine. Here is how it happened, as reported under Part 3 as Chapter 26 under 'The Karmic Car Cycles' by Cliff Livingstone. `THE KARMIC KAR CYCLES' CHAPTER 26 By the middle of November in 1996 we were also still driving our old 1986 blue Skyhawk. The car had given us seven or eight years of yeomen service, didn't owe us a dime, and was passed its last legs, way past its last legs. So we decided to sell it and be done with it. I went over to a local auto repair in a small row of business bays and negotiated $100.00 for the car because the engine was still running fine despite having over 350,000 kilometers. A living testimony to Slick 50 oil additive. It was also house to a very arcane piece of arcane history. I pulled over the side of the road one day and crept it along as the odometer slowly crept to exactly 22222222. Once it hit the exact mark I stopped and savored the moment for a moment. Not too many chances in a lifetime for that unless you're specifically into old clunkers. By the time it was time for goodbye the blue Buick four door small car Skyhawk had scarcely anything left. The brakes were going, with no door handles built in the design only one of the four window buttons worked, to open and close the driver's window. Both windows on the passanger side were permenantly locked shut, the fourth window stayed partly open and was held in place propped on a piece of two by four inside the door panel. You had to open the driver door by reaching out. You had to open the passanger door by reaching in. The rear passenger door didn't open or close at all. The car was like a geriatric, fine until all of a sudden woes start settling in, this is how that car had deteriorated in a short short time. Forgot to mention the muffler was completely shot, an emergency repair using a pork and bean can engineered by a neighbor next door didn't work to cure the loud noise but a second try with a V Eight vegetable can cut to size with wire snips did work fine for a month but the roar that had caused the traffic ticket was starting to come back. Forgot to mention that the four way input into the single front end output of the manifold off the engine block was completely eaten through so noise from it plus exhaust fumes were becoming problem number one. It was, indeed, time to retire the car. A wad of steel wool stuffed loosely in the cavity could diminish its noise slightly but not the exhaust fresh from the engine block. Greydie said he would take it over to the auto repair during the day. I came by later to see how things went. As I approached the location I could see the back end of a car sticking straight up in the air out of a ditch like a finger giving an insult. The car looked to be around about the location of the repair shop. "Looks like an accident", I said to myself. As I got closer and closer, the more and more it started looking like the back end of the Buick. Sure enough, once I got close enough to see, there it was sticking bum up out of the ditch like a bird drinking water. There was no sign of Greydie. I went over to the house and he was working on his computer, business as usual. What had happened, was that the drainage ditch along the front of the auto place was so deep it was an almost vertical trench. When Greydie had been driving into the lot somebody wanted out. The drive was so narrow, he had to wait. But he was so close to the edge, that after about thirty seconds the edge broke away and the car slowly slid into the ditch face first with back end sticking up like a skunk ready to launch. It was the car's last indignant hurrah for giving it such an unceremonious boot out the door after all these years of loyal service. Not only do cars seem to know when you are about to give them the boot, some of them seem to know how to respond to you appropriately. Greydie had gone into the auto repair and suggested they just come out with a rope and haul it out. But a politically correct employee insisted they call a tow truck because of the insurance. So Greydie just did what he always did when confronted by politically correct thinking people when you definitely don't want one and threw up his hands. He then went home to let me deal with it because I had always shown somewhat more patience with people like that. Well in the way that politically correct people always want their personal policies accepted, a tow truck it was, and I resettled with the shop owner for $50.00 instead of the original $100.00. The car was safely on the lot the next morning when I went by. But the owner told me to come back in a couple of days for the money. A couple of days later the owner was out buying a hamburger. I came back a week later and there was a sheriff's lock on the door. Jeez, I've got to stop falling for that some day. So since I was out a few bucks, I have to call this a minor 'outie'. See (http://missingmass.net/karmic.txt) (-finished-) greydie@look.com