Evening Entertainment – Two Skids

Immanuel’s Bar & the Parable of the Womb

 

A Life Carrier, a Lanonandek and a Melchizedek walk into a bar. Actually, Immanuel’s Bar on Salvington is just ’round from the gate’ and into Michael’s Northern Hall.  Immanuel, as usual, is behind the bar polishing glasses.

“Welcome lads!” he says as they enter.  “What’ll it be?”

“The usual, thanks,” they reply.

“Righto – a pint of material light for our Life Carrier friend, a snifter of intellectual insight for our young Lanonandek, and two fingers of spirit luminosity for the Professor.”

The three thank him, and settle back.  It’s been a long day.

Now Life carriers are always animated, but Immanuel notices that this particular chap is beaming.  “Things going well, are they?” prompts Immanuel.

[ Life Carrier ]
“Oh yes!” enthuses the Life Carrier.  “Breakthrough in womb technology!  You know how, on some inhabited worlds, the native populations are not smoothly blended with their Adamic uplifters, like on Michael’s Urantia?  Well we finally got it sorted.  No more morning sickness, easier births.  For millions of such mothers, a much better process in every way.”  He takes a deep draft from his pint of light and beams brighter still.  “You know, I never tire of the idea, that Finaliters begin their ascent as mere fragments in a mortal mother’s womb.”

All three sit quietly for a moment, reflecting upon the Finaliters, those made in the image of the Father, fostered by the efforts of the Life Carriers on the material worlds.

[ Lanonandek ]
The Lanonandek, considering his glass, adds “Indeed, the womb is a powerful metaphor.  Consider how the entire human life serves as womb for the soul, that first-stage morontia form we use to launch their ascendant careers.”  He sips from his snifter of insight and reflects on the millions of such souls that he and his team have helped foster.

[ Melchizedek ]
The Melchizedek, professor at the Local Universe U., furrows [her] brow.  “The womb is indeed a deep concept.  We actually run a course, exploring how the entire local universe career serves as gestation for those first-stage spirit ascenders — those chips off the old block — whom we help Michael launch toward Paradise and the Father.  In this sense we might even say that all of Nebadon serves as a vast magnificent womb.”

These three local universe sons, quietly reflecting upon the phenomenon of Man, his cycles of embryonic assembly in this variety of wombs, and what it might all mean.

Immanuel, polishing glasses still, glances and winks at One sitting over in the corner, quietly alone;  a Solitary Messenger.
“Anything to add, Solo?”

In that uncanny way in which Solitary Messengers move, he is no longer in the corner, on the far Side, but behind and leaning on the bar, beside Immanuel.

[ Solo ]
“Well yes.  From our frame it looks like this: the Father desired a full family, of Ones like the Son but in splendid variation.  So he had his Architects make a “master universe”, to serve as womb for fragments of himself.  Such fragment-seeds become Adjusters within humans, aligning with their seven dimensions of personality.  Such “embryonic man” becomes “ascending Son”, able and intended to grow all the way. We see that Human is part of the transition technique, used by the Father, to zip together two fragments of himself,  adjuster and person.”

“And my, what a scheme!  Just qualify a little space, add a touch of time, and voila! — seven dimensional Sons emerging from their absonite womb — a family of “associable absolutes”, just right and ready for sub-infinite penetration of the Father’s actualizing absolute domain.”
[Paper 112:1:9, page 1226:13]

 

Mick and Min

 

Dramatis Personae

Narrator
Michael of Nebadon (Mick)
The Divine Minister of Salvington (Min)

Narrator:  Our story opens as Michael and his consort, the future Divine Minister of Salvington, arrive to begin the task of organizing their universe.

Mick:  Gee!  It was nice of Dad to give us such a great site.

Divine Min:  Yeah.  Nebadon.  I’ve already been round the boundaries and I’m space conscious of the whole lot.

Mick:  Wow, Min.  You don’t muck around.

Min:  Well, if I’m not there, it’s not Nebadon.

Mick:  I know, I know.  Well, we’d better start getting the place organised.  The power centers seem to think there’ll be plenty to do.

Min:  Well if anyone’d  know, they would.  Not much fun, though, are they?  I tried to give one the time of day and he just hurrumphed at me.

Mick:  They’re all right if you know how to treat ‘em.  All they do is work.  They don’t go for small talk.  They’ve just started work on Salvington, our permanent home.

Min:  I hope they manage to get the colours right.  I wouldn’t want them to clash with…..

Mick (interrupting):  They know what their doing.

Narrator:  Mick and Min now begin the long and arduous task of physically stabilizing the space bodies of  Nebadon.

Min:  We can start with that dark island.

Mick:  OK.  (Straining with all his might).  Strewth.  There’s some weight in it!  Give us a hand.

Min:  I’m here. (Straining with Mick).  Hold on!  There, got it.  That orbit should keep it under control.  Hey!  Look out for that globular cluster!

Mick:  You told me it wasn’t in Nebadon.

Min (coquettishly):  I changed my mind.

Mick looks at the audience and shrugs with mock exasperation.

Min:  That big system is in it too.

Mick makes a grab for it, but misses.

Mick:  Oops.  I couldn’t hang on to that one.

Min:  Tch, tch!  Butterfingers!  It’s in a really odd orbit too.  I suppose we’ll get another chance in a few billion years.  It’s that Angona system.

Mick:  Hmmm!  I’ve got a feeling I’ll be having a lot more to do with that little number in the future.  This is a tough job.  I’m already looking forward to my next holiday on Paradise.

Min:  That’s jumping the gun a bit, isn’t it?  You can’t leave till ‘til gross equilibrium’s  established.

Mick:  I can dream, can’t I?  Give us a pound with this comet, will you?  It’s spinning right out of control.

Min:  All right, all right, I’m here.  Aside:  Typical!  Always thinking of the next Sons night out.  I can’t ever get away.

Narrator:  This struggle goes on for 100 billion years or so, but eventually Mick and Min manage to arrange the orbits of the space bodies of Nebadon so that they are stable enough for life propagation to begin.

Mick:  Gee, Min.  I think we’ve made it.  Most of those crazy orbits are under control.

Min:  Yeah.  There’s still a few rough edges, but the Power Centres will be able to iron them out.  Maybe we could send the Tertiaphim home.

Mick:  I suppose so.  Boy, have they done a job.  Let’s give them a great reference, eh!  And you’ve done a great job yourself, Min.  I’d be lost without you, I really would.

Min:  Aw, Mick!

Mick:  And now we can start our own family.  Won’t it be wonderful to have our own family of helpers?  I’ve got all these great designs planned out.

Min:  Oh goody!!  That means I get to be more personal.

Mick:  You seem pretty personal to me already.

Min:  You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.  (Min takes off her dark glasses).

Mick:   MIN!!!!!  You’re divine!!

Narrator:  So Mick and Min go on to create Gabriel, and the host of living beings in Nebadon, and begin the long evolutionary process towards establishing Nebadon in light and life.

Finis.