Art of War once Moore by Sander R.B.E. Beals (classic romance novels TXT) 📖

I got the idea for this chapter while watching Schindler's List, and the discussion about wanting Palestine back as a home even though lots of other places might look better..... the story itself however escaped me until quite a few days, memories and realizations later.

Because in essence, the Palestine Home problem is a somewhat distorted concept to make us see one thing: they consider the home of their people to be far more important than their own homes, or their families and friends. It is however but a first step of the true consequences of such a choice.

To me, home has always been the most important: in childhood my parents' home was the refuge away from schoolyard persecution, imperfect as it even was. If I had any friends, then their homes were preferable, so I hardly ever brought friends home. Not that home was particularly bad, but friends' homes often had more appeal. Things changed when I became a professional, and lived on my own. Not fully happy with the alone of AllOne, I lived that way for about six months and then quickly made a home with Linda, who would eventually become my first wife. Now there is a duality in this, which isn't quite war-related, but does warrant mentioning: I'm divorced now, but when referring to Linda as 'my first wife' I often correct myself because in this Now I've only had one, so the adjective first would be superfluous, to say the least. But on the other hand, time and time again, I make the exact same 'mistake' again, as if the Cosmos is telling me something: “Yes, there will be a second One!” Or is it my subconscious that gently has me making that same Freudian slip over and over again?

Anyway, home is important, and war takes one away from that. Luckily, a disease named Asthma made my inclusion in the Netherlands army avoidable by a request to our family doctor: he wrote a letter, and I was off the hook! Which of course greatly delighted my youngest brother Leo, because if I was skipped, he was up next! That was the immediate consequence of the Dutch rule that no more than two sons in a family are drafted, at least in peacetime.

Back to my career life however, and my home in the fair province of Gelderland: the day I first went to visit Linda, I remembered crossing the old IJssel bridge in a weird way. As I came up on the approach, and the road sharply bent right to get me across the bridge, I distinctly remembered that I'd traveled that bridge one time before: in the back of my father's car, as we went to visit some family who lived there. Now did I remember that because of the weird approach, or because back then I'd already known that this city would be my home for many years? What is 'Home' eventually? I travel only sparingly, usually if there is a reason other than a randomly chosen vacation target to consider. Yet at the same time, I know I can feel '@ home' anywhere. As a rule, it immediately follows that I prefer to travel light, because I know there are not many things I need which I consider 'essential'. Dutch are said to even pack their coffee on vacation because coffee elsewhere does not taste the same. If that is true, then I am not Dutch! And I don't consider myself that, in any other way than that I have a peculiar taste for the color orange. That isn't coincidence, but hardly because I love football.....

So 'Back Home' as my fellow countrymen from the Golden Earring are still singing live on stage. What makes it home? The fact you can pretty much do as you please? Hey, all of a sudden the random play from my Media Player no longer suits me: with Pink Floyd putting Human Nature on Trial, I've had enough! And luckily, nobody is listening to it otherwise, so it quickly gets magically turned into Young Sherlock Holmes. Is that because I have 'Holmes' on my mind?

Or is it coincidence that the first character we focus on, an elderly gentleman, experiences some ghastly hallucination, which of course immediately chases him to the comfortable confines he calls 'Home'? The fact he is fed more hallucinations until fear causes him to die of natural causes is of course the plot centerpiece, which Sherlock makes 'safe' again. Natural causes? Hallucinations? Nah, it was the fall from a second story window that killed him, but it is up to young Sherlock to deduce what the hallucinations had to do with it.....

My second sync came as the headmaster floated into view: “author of 27 books, but many consider him quite mad” I'm not even at five books, and considered quite mad already ;-) Or at least that is what many people think about a guy wanting to know God's thoughts, and considering everything else just details. We appear to hold them in contempt, diminish them in some way. Except for the ones who take this reasoning for what it really is: the person declaring such an intent knows that All of us are God's Thoughts, none excluded!

And yes, of course Young Holmes is up against the Rame Tep, a cult which practices live sacrifice! To me that sounds like sacrificing one of God's thoughts for another, when in fact we would never have to: thoughts have no size and or other material properties, and as such do not take space or time that might be needed by other thoughts. Sure, thought can conflict, but only when we give them conflicting meanings. So if in God's thoughts All is One, and One are All, there can be no conflict. It is just when we assign meaning to thoughts, we may well create the opposition. And as I type this, Holmes is in a bit of a bind with the local constabulary, over the meanings they each give various words.....

Still though, regardless of what meaning we each designate to that word 'Home', it is nevertheless important. I'm using 'designate' instead of 'assign', because of the way in which the Grand Design works: the meaning we give to our own words is basically that which we get back from the environment around us. Now by 'assigning' meaning, we are on a half-assed chase of setting up polarities, pitching our significant ideas against one another. Designating is a far more subtle activity, where we couple ideas to language and thus to communication from a substantially new manner of thinking, as Einstein called it. Does it really matter if we do so to uncover the design we think is there, or to create the one we see in our mind's eye? Don't we both see them in the Essence of our Being? In fact, why do we call it 'Thought'? Why not Feeling, Vision, Destiny or Fate? All mere words actually, none more important than the other. Why swim upstream, when you may far more easily go with the flow, and like Sun Tzu's armies reduce any opposition to just another word who's meaning may be assigned by you in your reality? Does it really matter whether your Reality is the complete Infinity of all there can be?

If you've read Infinity plus One, you should know the answer to that, surely: Infinity is by definition incomplete as it is! Having no boundaries, any collection you may designate to be Infinity, immediately becomes null and void because the moment you think of anything else, it should also be included!

And then the Cosmos blinked at me: at the end of the movie, Watson claims Holmes missed one clue. “What??? Holmes missing a clue?” I thought as I watched. It turned out that Holmes had neglected to see that the name of his opponent were the last words of his victim spelled backwards. Holmes sort of admitted to missing that one, but hey, clues are like fish: there is always a bigger one, but you never know which will eat which, if any! So yes, I dabble in such Watsonian clues all the time, but where to me these are completely obvious, you may well find them to be of a Holmesian nature, simply because your mind is not on them. Doesn't matter, because in one way or another, we all are clue hunters:

Let's face it: what is a clue? Basically an observation or a piece of information that holds meaning to you. Who cares if the meaning you see in it is different from the meanings others see in it? In the end, it doesn't even matter who is right, right?

Movieland on my right screen skipped a very enjoyable performance of Genesis Be with her comment on the recent Occupy movement headlined around the world. 'Nothing brings me down' was the title of her song, and apart from being a very enjoyable rap, its arrival here was a sync if I ever saw one: undoubtedly because I'd entered my name on her mailing list in the past, she dropped into my E-mail slot right during the last movie. There was something though that aroused my suspicion, or should I say my abhorrence: the mail had a nasty link in it, which suggested I needed Viagra. Now I may not be a promiscuous boy like Nellie Furtado is apparently fond of, but being a manic, getting it up is no problem of mine! Yet as I listened to Genesis Be's text, she happened to be in a war herself, but she nailed it: “we just cut the porn and lead the way!” out of war that is.....

Now I'm not going to microscopically analyze Genesis Be's lyrics, because I long since decided she is on my side, even though I've never really met her. It is just that feeling, like nigga's are always portrayed as saying: ”Don't talk shit to me man!”, which is actually a compliment: they are naturally equipped to detect shit, just like we all are! And just like that, I can claim Genesis Be to be on my side, by her mere choice of a name, and the raps she delivers!

Now that is no exceptional praise by any standard, for I love numerous singers, song writers and movie performers for that very same reason. Shrek is one of them, which just launched in VLC player for me. Again, I may be biased by my Dutch descent, where 'schrik' is a scare, not even a real fear. And that is about the level of anxiety we can expect from these movies. Just good old fashioned childish conflict from a guy who actually has the appearance of a child, despite him being the head honcho reigning the castle!

Well, this is 'home entertainment' although some of us may prefer a huge cinema screen to view movies. On the other hand, with the sizes of today's home cinema screen, the viewing angles are about the same. But the layers upon layers of conscious and subliminal information are quite like the Ogres: onions! I dare to claim that all songs and movies have about as much philosophical content as the bible or any other book of learning. It is just that not all information may hold similar meaning for all of us, which in fact is the real clue: the moment most of us see that, then religious writings become a matter of finding similarities rather than differences. Heck, it won't even be confined to those information bearers, but will go way beyond that. And we will find that we have far more in common, than we have differences worth fighting over!

Having paused the movie for a while, I came back to it eating my noodles and fried eggs, having sprinkled both with a generous helping of coconut gratings. The movie continued with Robin Hood and the merry men, expressing their foreman's state of mind as one between Love and Lust. Talk about a hot subject!

In fact, I figure this requires an entirely different chapter, even though in the ideal case such relationships tend to end up in what most of us call home. In fact, it is now for the first time that I see how many sexual and romantic remarks followed in