CHAPTER 1
FISH
* * *
For as long as he could remember, Pop Sharman's existence revolved around the origin of mankind, space, astrology, ancient religions, and the natural kingdoms. He was determined to pursue and expose the lies encapsulated in traditional beliefs. Although well past his allocated three-score plus ten years, he was still an avid student of all knowledge, which he believed must be shared. With a willing audience, he could reminisce and talk for hours on any subject known to man. When not tending his garden, he would collect wild herbs to create medicine for the large number of people who came for help.
Where the creek forked and joined the larger stream, a huge river gum stood. Like him, the tree was old and weathered, but it gave companionship, support for a tired back, welcome relief from the relentless heat of the Queensland sun, and a place to commune with the Creator.
Thinking aloud, he thanked his friend and queried the number of years they'd spent together on this plane, and he wondered how many more summers they would share. The sun was still high, and with home a mere half hour away, he decided to grab a little shut-eye.
A tangible stillness permeated the cool air, filling his lungs, reviving the mind, and relieving the tired body. In this meditative state, he sensed an aura of anticipation tingling through the surrounding bush.
Out of respect for their visitor, the cicadas were hushed and the rainbow lorikeets stopped their incessant squabbling and snuggled closer into the motley tree trunk. Even the butterflies settled to enjoy the peace and quiet this man brought to the area.
Pop knew all forms of animal, planet, and mineral were living evidence of the eternal God. He maintained the form may change but the inner energy was indestructible. Perhaps what people said about him was true. Maybe he did connect with the nature kingdom, and maybe the nature kingdom felt his love and responded in kind.
If the trees could talk, they could tell many fascinating stories about this man, but as mute sentinels, they kept his secrets locked up in their hearts.
A passing breeze paused to play in the upper canopy, and a solitary leaf was released. At first hesitant to leave, the blade swayed then slowly spiralled down to the dry creek bed far below.
"How like that little leaf we are," he said to the tree. "For a short time, we are quite happy to be part of the whole, young and full of hope, then one fateful day something unexpected happens and we break away. Tis true we often just drift downward as we follow our destiny, fading into oblivion like all those who have gone and leaving nothing but inspiration for those who follow."
To a lesser man, this would be a depressing thought, but to him, it was a fact of life. To just be a part of the eternal unfolding pattern was an honour.
The intoxicating vibrations channelled the mind into other realms, shuffling memories of distant times and places he'd explored with his beloved Mary. Fourteen years had passed since she left the physical plane, but they still shared the quiet moments.
Lydia tried to fill the void, but she too had been gone five years. Although his way of life hadn't changed in content, it now lacked context. Lydia's energy was the spark that ignited the passion in their work. The fire surrounding new discoveries seemed dimmer without her physical input and presence.
They both had a profound faith in the ancient science of astrology, numerology, reincarnation, and past lives and spent hours in meditation seeking answers from higher beings. They also experimented with different herbs, trying new ways to blend plants to increase the medicinal action, often with extraordinary results.
Some people researched their family trees, but Lydia preferred to study the leaders of past ages. She was sure Moses had been the leader of the Aryan age, followed by Adam for the age of Taurus. The same Adam supposedly created in the Garden of Eden, although Mithras, the Minoan leader, was said to be the great teacher born in the age of Taurus. Mithraism involved the bull, and she believed the crescent shape of the horns became the crescent moon endemic to Islam.
Mithras was also associated with the sun gods Helios and Apollo. His birthdate was celebrated near the winter solstice, on the twenty-fifth of December. The Church took this and allocated the date to Jesus to maintain the myth of the "sun", or "son" of God. The cave temple situated on Vatican Hill, previously dedicated to Mithras, went on to become the seat of the Catholic Church.
The couple contemplated the story of Adam and Eve and concluded they were the male/female twin souls who were the leaders for the age of Gemini. Eve was beside Adam, not coming from one of Adam's ribs as the Bible would have us believe. Like many so-called truths, the real facts were lost in translation or, as so often happened, deliberately misconstrued to appease the various sects or enforce a particular dogma. Even today, different denominations of Christians translate the Bible to suit themselves.
Lydia knew Jesus was the Piscean leader by the continual reference to fish by his followers. But like Islam, those who created the credo for the new Christianity took what they wanted from previous religions. To enforce control, the church hierarchy further developed and perpetuated a liturgy of lies, tyranny, murder, and other unspeakable crimes that had no basis in the righteous teachings of Jesus.
Being on the planet during the transition of the Piscean to the new Aquarian age thrilled Lydia. Questions of where, how, and who would rise from the ranks of humanity really excited her.
Crack. Twang. The call of the whipbird and the splashing of water broke through the layers of thought, jarring the mind out of Aquarian depths into the watery realms of the present age. Someone was approaching, and judging by the noise, there were several people.
The drought had turned the free-flowing creek into a series of individual mud holes linked only by a slow trickle of water. Another month with no rain and there would be nothing to encourage the insects, which were the first in the food chain for the birds and many other creatures.
Listening to insects playing their intricate instrument, he imagined the baton of the unseen Creator forming the incredibly harmonious, if slightly offbeat, hypnotic chorus that sounded like a Tibetan mantra complete with temple bells.
The collective sounds lulled him back into the dreamtime, causing the whipbird to give out another distinctive whip. Crack. At last, the bird managed to alert him to the fact his sanctuary was about to be invaded. No need to strain the ears. It was obvious some children were making their noisy way upstream. Without moving a muscle, the old man tuned in, trying to ascertain what had them so excited on such a hot day.
Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed the cloud hiding the sun. Maybe this would herald the cooler days. With no need to hurry back to his empty cottage, he resettled comfortably against the tree.
The boys smashed everything that blocked their progress. A half-dead she-oak tree hanging precariously from the creek bank soon shared the same suffocating fate as other trees already half submerged in the thick grey mud. They made such a racket sloshing along that it was difficult to hear their conversation.
Pop shifted his weight to check the position of the sun and stretch the legs to avert leg...
