September 28, 2024
There’s a more intimate entertainment form that we call simply “story hour.” Our storytellers are so expert that they enchant adults as well as children, and these are popular events. ~ Matthew Ward describing recreational activities in Heaven-Nirvana, in Matthew, Tell Me About Heaven (Suzanne Ward)
Do extraterrestrials read fiction? I wonder.
I’ve recently been sampling books from the friendly, well-stocked Goleta library. I happened upon Kathy Hogan Trocheck and thought I’d hit pay dirt. But, alas, the novels are saturated with over-the-top conflict, violent death, and the intrepid PI getting the tar beat out of her, hallmarks of hardboiled detective stories since Raymond Chandler helped launch the genre back in the 1930s.
I was persuaded by Trocheck’s quirky female protagonist and cozy mystery trappings to read the first book in the series. I’m not sure I’ll read the rest.
I’ve paged my way through half a dozen interesting-looking books over the last week, becoming more perturbed every time the beckoning finger of alluring plots and engaging characters pointed me to a dead end. I don’t think I can fault the authors for my newfound dislike of predictable (to me) plotting and the tidy murders that are key elements of cozy mysteries.
I didn’t use to be quite so picky. What’s changed?
*****
What is the purpose of reading fiction, anyway? I’m not much of a screen person, but the same can be asked about movies and TV—any online content in which we lose ourselves in someone else’s story. What are we looking for when we engage with something that overtly has nothing to do with our lives?
My apparent redirection in the area of enjoyable pastimes has me wondering if it’s more than just an internal shift. Could it be that the rising planetary vibrations or the potent energies we’re told are being directed at us has bumped some cog in the wheel of my mind, off of one track and onto another?
It’s disconcerting to imagine that this new track might not include enjoyment of books. Reading is more than a distraction to me; it’s an engagement with another world and with other lives, even though they’re “imaginary,” and the characters are as vibrant to me as they were when I first started devouring books as a child.
*****
I don’t know what other-dimensional, interstellar beings do for entertainment. (Maybe they watch us.) Do they return to their perfect and peaceful homes after a day of heart-directed activity, kick off their shoes, and plop down in front of a screen to watch News of the Universe, flip through interplanetary game shows, and tune in to a favorite nighttime soap opera?
If I—we—are moving toward being fifth dimensional, it seems every element of ourselves and our lives will be transmogrifying, until we end up with something so unpredictable and unforeseeable it’s beyond imagination.
*****
Luckily, I can always reread the books on my shelves, including the relentlessly heartwarming and murder-free Aunt Dimity cozies by Nancy Atherton. Who cares that I have the plots memorized? Being surprised by a story isn’t important to me. Being with “people” that I enjoy and from whom I learn things, about life or about myself, is.
Maybe learning our truths from fiction won’t even be a thing in Earth’s fifth dimension. I tend to imagine 5D life might be similar to Matthew’s descriptions of Nirvana. I hope so. I want to gather around an ethereal fire, letting my light body shine and helping illuminate the story circle while a talented and enthralling troubadour spins tales of magic, slipping in universal truths disguised as metaphor and fairytales.
