SAMPLE SCENES FROM "COSMIC NOIR" : GUMSHOE IN ASTRAL ALLEY FIGHT. BOOTS IN THE MISTY HIGHLANDS

A couple sections of a cosmic noir detective in action.  Mention of dames could be trouble at this point.  We have enough trouble with astral villains and we have enough glory with astral beauty.   

A 'fiction' work in progress.

Lawn meets a pasture at a wire fence where my neighbors have a small acreage faded-wood horse barn. The troubles across the world aren't evident here.  That doesn't mean we can't be touched by the tragic.  In fact, they say literature and culture are shallow and meaningless without the tragic.  Smart and cultured people say this, so I'll take their word for it.  My detective work is in the field of a region beyond the tragic that offers a winning stand in the mystery of a light region that includes adventure and reunion.   

Right now I must sleuth out the forces of negativity and cruelty that have directed the puppets that do the bidding of evil forces, yet who still think they are in control. I would rather deal with the puppets - - and I have for a number of years.  But fighting the forces behind them is dangerous work.  

The smart fight is to align with forces of Light to fortify for adventure and alliance. I don't have the fool chutzpa that gets people destroyed or killed.  My more refined and allied fight begins tonight.  

First, there is the matter of the dame.  A stunning green-eyed blonde when I met her forty years ago, she is still athletic and sleek.  We had some good times again recently.  Slowed down on all that because - - well, because of the nature of life.   She knows about my alternate life on the ranch and the Vivien Lee brunette beauty who I met when I lost J. the first time.  Very gone with the August wind.  The alternate life had more financial and social success but the fight with that segment of anti-fa and government powers was more intense.  Probably because I had more social gravitas and the means to make a stand. 

 Anyway, the dame would scowl at me for using that word.  Often does for any slight I make against Feminist doctrine.  She is spiritual in a subdued and Quaker way so she also scoffs at my metaphysical interests.  Since those interest are my expertise and not a hobby, I know enough to let it slide.  Besides, she's seen more ghosts than I have.  

So she has her own interests and have time to do my Cosmic investigation.  After the initial meeting with Light and beings on that wavelength, I flew away - - 'faring forth' as it is known in Old Norse - - to a land in the city of man where we could gain more influence to confront the menace.  

An alley downtown which I was shown as a place of power for my reconnaissance of personal resonance.  Standing in the street light shadows I could not make out why I was there at first. The more powerful and greater wisdom of Odin had led me to that section of town.  In Montana, 'city' is stretching it a little.  

CITY NOIR ALLEY FIGHT
 
A previous night's 'faring forth' had guided me to a sector of the city where there appeared to be important work.  The significance was not evident but I had hopes of a light cosmic contact of a pleasant sort.  Did not count on this evening's alley fight with The Abomination That Lurches By Night.

About the alley.  Not my first choice of a place for a meaningful fight. I contacted a guide who had led me there in the first place.  In going forth, Odin strode with me to a region in the lower end of astral landscape.  Of course I had met with him in the upper region of Ljossalfheim to validate a higher contact.  Then we 'walked' together to the region of astral  where I would find the most gain.  The Fox theater had been torn down years ago but it was in the region.  There was nothing significant in the old slabs of broken concrete.  The imaginal area of  relevance was not too clear but I chose an area near a bar that had changed names after my heyday.  The alley and surrounding buildings were the same potholed and old patched and faded brick.  Even the alley surface had been made of paving bricks.  There are less overhead wires and transformers now.  Broadband technology.  The gloomy and threatening emptiness was different while sober so I slightly shivered on the way to the crazy bar.

Before I describe the confrontation and fight in the alley, I want to mention a principle.  This might take some of the suspense and drama from the alley fight but it does give good rede on how to enter such a danger.  All systems are dialed to WIN through training and cosmic assistance.  It is not a battle, it is a victory.    

The alley is not used much by car, delivery truck or casual walker.  Bar fights had sometimes been 'taken outside' to the potholed asphalt but after the punches were finished people quickly left.  This night my first encounter was with a ragged panhandler who staggered slightly and paused to ask for a handout, but changed his mind. He seemed to leave in a hurry.   I knew the Abomination that Lurches By Night would be entering the alley from the same direction.  So I leaned against the brick wall where I would be in the shadows.  A moth fluttered into the dim street light.  Something rustled and shuffled at the end of the alley.  Soon, a hulk with ragged clothing blocked the entire alley exit.  He pointed at me in an accusing way so I came out of the shadows to walk toward it. The sound of my boot heels on the old brick and asphalt seemed amplified to a rhythm of determined persistence.  The forward movement of the Abomination that Lurches by Night stopped and waited.  A threatening arm gesture seemed to magnify its size.

Could not be much fun to be such a creature no matter the size.   

But my vision ranged higher.  Far overhead, floating unseen by the threatening figure, a greater strider across the landscape looked upon the scene with interest.  I'm known to have courage in spooky encounters if it's going to give me a tale to tell.  

But the monster in the alley backed away a few steps.  I'm not one who ever won those alley fights at the old bar.  This is a different kind of fight.  The monster finally turned and ran away from the bolts of colored light that I cast his way.  He did not like the visions of pastoral peace that I engulfed him with either.  He seemed to pause in his flight when I gave and indicator that the peaceful life need not be boring and lonely.  "Think about it," I told him.  He seemed to gain a nearly normal gait and slow his retreat.  He was gone.

Above me and to my right a gibbous quarter moon with some bright planet in proximity spoke of the cycles of time and events changing in our encounters.  Odin nodded that he liked the thought.  With the Allfather, communication seems somewhat silent but that is because he transmits without words in an attitude of essence.  Words are known to have power and are sometimes used.  We get the message anyway.  

I said, "I was hoping you indicated this area for another reason."   

The beneficient strider said, "In time.  How do you like the battle?"

"I guess its what I do."

Odin said, "There will be time for frith and weal."

He is known to be grimly serious, but he does smile and nod something that translates to our fondest aspirations.  

 LATER.  COUNTRY NOIR TO THE HIGHLANDS

Country Noir means that the winking lights of distant structures and vehicles cross a great distance of valley fog upon field and road.  City Noir will always be there for a return, but in what condition is debatable.  Country Noir is insistent that there is an ancient land that supports ancient settlement and life will go on.

The tough guy with a heart to do what's right is the hallmark of the Noir detective.  He is vital but reserved and non-commital with words but direct in actions.  Some of this mysterious silence is born of an advanced perception of reality and the spirit that shapes what is.  There is hope that action will influence the trajectory of that reality to find the clues and win with them.  

I mentioned Country Noir and I'm thinking of the Clint Eastwood character in The Good Bad and Ugly movie and others in 'the man with no name' series.  A man of few words is still the man needed for winning action.  

Let's look at the dames.  She might actually be a damsel in distress but her spirit of feisty nature is unbroken.  Or she can be sullen and disinterested.   She still has more personal power than women who degrade themselves today with a kind of 'anti-fa' uniform of expressing ugly.  But there is nothing wrong with dames of Noir who use their God-given beauty and charms to get what they want.  They have the right.  The hard-bitten Noir detective has the ability to see through her yet the vitality to appreciate her.  

The general political climate is seen in the past, present, and future by the Cosmic Noir detective.  But he knows a winning saga is how we win it all.    

Rains are greening up the pasture and leafing out the trees.  Something about real rain from clouds beats artificially scattered watering systems every time.  With the rising sun and the shining spectrum surrounding the greenery is the Mage of and ancient science of knowing and directing Vril upon the lands.  The celestial consciousness that is part and parcel of this Vril shows him what must be done because he is receptive and respectful to this ultimate Source.

A few motions with his body and an intention of mind separates our Mage from the common distracted interests of mankind.  He proffers an oak wand from the folds of his clothing and raises it skyward for recognition and sanctification of directed intent.              

Finding a higher ground for prime of life casting was on the next day's itinerary. 

Started the day with high energy and no social distraction.  Clouds cling to the mountain shape of pine and fir in the distance.  Frequent journeys into these air-flowing slow currents of mist reveal what is within and around.

Did I arrive with a mission to preserve and advance the clannic kindred of the ways of my people?  If I did, it was only perceived with a sense of general good will and respect and not with an acquiescence to adopt their beliefs and interests as an entirety.  I had my own interests that would show me success and failure and reveal some abiding precepts that my people should know.   


Clouds above shifted to a timberline mist as I entered the high forest.  Wet undergrowth and old log-fall filled the trail ahead.  A deer trail, we called it, because man had not cleared it but generations of wildlife, including an occasional bear, had trod the narrow rocky soil route that was sometimes nearly invisible under pine needles.  I was making a test of my endurance to climb up into the timberline rain flow.  From below there was mystery seen up above.  Once above, there was mystery all around.    I was in it.

The elm staff went with me on this trip.  It had been made for costume effect for my attendance at a Society for Creative Anachronism wedding.  Or 'hand fasting' as it was called among that genre of that group.  I had made it with a defiant authenticity, inscribed with Elder Futhark runes.  The hand-grip had been fashioned from the same material used for my green Godhi regalia.  Simple but fashioned from what an Icelander or member of another Norse tribe would have worn for the ceremonial moment.  It served well for a walking staff on the mountain.  

The magic served well for a time back in that civilized event.  The marriage had brought forth two children, although the union did not last.  Most often, I forget that I saw her first and had loved her as a destiny of my Wicca Craft years.  I easily turned her over to a strong young man who was okay but not my equal in Magic.  Easily and energetically, because Magic is about doing what's right.  There was a destiny for them.  Anyway,  I found other and more ancient paramours for my libido.  Some good women returned.  

On the mountaintop glacier above the treeline, there was enough time to cast a blessing upon the five valleys that were vital to my ancestors.  There was much to do for Hof and those clients who would prove enriching beyond pecuniary measure.  Somehow, I'd found my given calling in entrepreneurship and not the aloof and proper Mage that I'd had for an identity.  More life equals more magical and cosmic qualities.  It is in the living that we embark on who we are.  

The walk back down to the car parked at the upper reach of the old abandoned logging road was navigated before dark.  The North American sunset had a tone of energetic and vital discovery that I sensed on the drive back down the mountain.  Nature in my back yard and an oak gandr would serve to integrate what I had felt on the more lofty summit.  There was work to do.  

Hyperborea is a state of mind.  This is past and future memory where the machinations of currently centralized and transmitted agendas are not relevant.  The slavery and fear of the controllers can not impede what we have to do.  I'd made some gains with re-engaging Hyperborea.  There was no sound of a TV when I entered my home.