Living Architecture- Monday with Marley

"You find your husband, disagreeable? From what you describe woman, your husband is suffering from constipation, has a pale face and a rapidly palpitating heart. You observed a high temperature and more than normal flatulence. I understand your sentiments but assure you, it is not you who causes him such ill. These must originate of an ulcer caused by eating spicy hot food and too much. Go, sister, prepare this medicine. It will empty your husband and it will cleanse his stomach. Soak some sweet ale with some flour for one night. Let your patient take this syrup four times each day for four days. And you, wife, be patient. He will love you yet again and you will enjoy his presence. He will not cause you to escape again, the bed sheets."

The woman left. The physician stood, smiling, taller than most by half a hand.

"That is all for today," he held up his palms. A line of thirty women, men and children, turned away. They would return as the sun rose the following day. The physician walked to a hammered copper bowl, dipped his hands in hibiscus flowers floating in clear water. He sighed and rinsed his face, took the soft cotton towel offered.

"My always present, Kafi." The man servant bowed. The physician dried his face and hands, setting the towel over the waiting arm. It warmed the servant that the towel returned folded, always.

"Many come to ask guidance from the Great Physician, but Master, you are but one man and can only do what you can do. Please take rest."

"Ah, Kafi, kind Kafi, I have been summoned to the Pharaoh's Throne. Kjoser believes he is dying and may wish to have me record more of his dreams," he pulled on his closely cropped chin beard, "Kafi, remind me that I must teach you the secret of writing on papyrus. You would do well at it and I would find more time for healing."

"I know that it is not yet his time but he does suffer from occasional delusions. The Pharaoh calls and I go to him."

The physician Imhotep was not of royal blood but walked, in many ways, more respected than Pharaoh, but not feared. His name meant "the one that comes in peace".

As Imhotep walked through the Hall of Columns, the alternating patterns of light and shadow over the perfect square thick stone tiles marked the rhythm of life in the Royal Court- nights of light and days of darkness. Imhotep felt the columns rising like the giant palm trees of his distant home, Gebelein. The perfectly round carved trunks rose thirty feet supporting stone lintels and slabs of roof. It was in this building Imhotep felt most at home, alone but surrounded by a hundred tall memories.

At the end of the center most colonnade, dark, strong armed guards stood on either side of the giant wooden door, the Seal of Kjoser carved into its thickness. One guard turned to push both panels open.

Hinges oiled with olive oil.

A short, roundish man, balding, sagging skin, beckoned, "Imhotep, chief minister, vizier, my doctor and architect, my friend, welcome." The pharaoh did not rise but nodded to several servant attendants. Immediately a padded wooden chair was set at the base of a

three tiered pedestal.

The architect bowed, low and sat looking up at Kjoser. "Pharaoh, may the Gods Amun and Ra continue to brighten your countenance," then leaned back, intent and relaxed. "And how is the tooth my Lord?"

"Heh," smiled Pharaoh, "It no longer hurts me after you removed it. How you did that with no pain to your Patron? I suppose, this is yet another secret you will keep from me and take to your grave."

"You become more popular each day, friend. If I did not know better, I would look behind every shadow to find you, aspiring. But I do know you, Imhotep. Never you, no, you don't want power because you have power. And you do not covet."

"I am blessed my Lord and am your humble servant, Pharaoh."

"You have survived two Pharaohs before me. You do not age like the rest of us. More of your secrets? You will outlive me and I am dying, my friend," Kjoser sighed.

"I am dying and last night I dreamed a dream. You came to me high on a plateau of stone, the stars aligned, the moon asleep. I stood in the heavens, clouds below me covering all of humanity."

The architect and seer offered, "Your years to this court are yet many, Master, sixteen to be precise. Sixteen times the Sun, the Earth will pass, before you slip into the Underworld to assume your journey as God. It will be as you dreamed; your stars are so aligned."

Imhotep studied the stars as he had studied the ancient symbols pressed into thousands of clay tablets from his teachers, long dead, gathered from ancient Sumer. In Sumer lay all the secrets.

Imhotep learned all he knew of medicine from the ancient cuneiform from Sumer. From the ancients he learned the formulas of the square, the strength of the triangle, the guidance of the stars. He learned from the dead ones the cure for over two hundred diseases, of the abdomen, of the bladder, of the rectum, of the eyes and skin and hair, nails and tongue. He learned to treat tuberculosis and to operate within the body itself, removing gallstones, inflamed appendicitis. He treated gout and arthritis with plant extracts. He remembered the position of vital organs and understood how the circulation of blood, like trees, delivered nutrients and energy to the body.

Imhotep shifted his height, leaning on the carved wooden arm and studied the Pharaoh.

"You wish something of me, my Lord."

"Yes, Most Gracious Servant, Imhotep. You are to design a resting place for this body. It is to be like none other in history."

"My Lord", suggested Imhotep after some time, "Upon a pedestal one hundred times as high as you now sit, you will sit in consort with the Gods."

"This edifice has been shown me by ancient guides. It is inherently stable and can be built in sixteen years, in time for your journey into the next life."

"I must know of its permanence, Architect. Tell me how my body will not be desecrated, my bones spread upon the sands, never to assemble into eternal life!"

"It shall rise, stepping to the heavens, for over seventy cubits, higher than any mountain in Egypt, six sacred mastabas, each lifting you higher to the Sun."

"And my body, Imhotep," implored the Pharaoh, "where will you conceal my body?"

Imhotep leaned forward, fixed his eyes on Pharaoh, "The secret of how and where you body shall lie, shall, as well, die with me."

The architect, vizier to the God Pharaoh, walked alone again through the silence of the columns. Moon light shadows cast long zebra stripes across the floor. Beyond the last cast shadow stood faithfully, Kafi.

"Master, how went it with Pharaoh?"

"As it always goes, Kafi. Please run ahead. Prepare my bath and oils. I am tired."

Imhotep walked slowly, content within the peace of wisdom.

His simple cotton robes gave nothing away of the power he wielded, nor did his voice. His manner, always, polite and kind and quick to forgive, as ready to smile, it was a lonely existence. So many days gone by, so many loves, so many experiments, he looked to the stars.

"Golden One, my True Master, give me strength in the days left to me to be of most humble service. I am grateful, always, to my teachers, your Brothers," Imhotep prayed silently.

As the High Priest of Heliopolis, he was Chief Priest of Lower Egypt, the North Country. Memphis, the seat of power, sat closer to the delta. It pleased Imhotep to live mostly in the lighter air of Heliopolis, the spiritual seat of Egypt.

There, he would rest. He would leave in the morning after his bath, after a long night of darkness, after his prayers. I would go with him.

Two thousand years after his death, quiet and dignefied, at home, Imhotep was made a God.

"I am Kafi. It was my pleasure to wrap my master's body in the light cotton quilts. After I had washed his body and anointed it with frankensesnce and murr, after I had carefully placed his most sacred organs in clay jars and after I laid him, gently into the simply carved wood sarcophagous he insisted upon, after I kissed him one last time on his beautiful, kind and knowing forehead, I closed the lid and I buried him."

"No one will find this place. I guard it still, checking on my old friend once in a while as I shuffle through time."

Before my master passed into his next life, I shared with him my secret, my wisdom.

"My name is Stonethrower. I travel through time. I came here, now, to serve you and to learn."

Kind man, unique human being, Imohtep, smiled, "I know you Kafi. I know you Stonethrower. The stars have shared their wisdom."

"I am Stonethrower. I travel through time and know the architects."

P.S. Next week, Stonethrower introduces us to an American President, a slave owner and lover, a wise farmer, a gifted architect.






		November 30 , 2009
		Monday with Marley
		"You find your husband, disagreeable? From what you describe woman, your husband is suffering from constipation, has a pale face and a rapidly palpitating heart. You observed a high temperature and more than normal flatulence. I understand your sentiments but assure you, it is not you who causes him such ill. These must originate of an ulcer caused by eating spicy hot food and too much. Go, sister, prepare this medicine. It will empty your husband and it will cleanse his stomach. Soak some sweet ale with some flour for one night. Let your patient take this syrup four times each day for four days. And you, wife, be patient. He will love you yet again and you will enjoy his presence. He will not cause you to escape again, the bed sheets." The woman left. The physician stood, smiling, taller than most by half a hand. "That is all for today," he held up his palms. A line of thirty women, men and children, turned away. They would return as the sun rose the following day. The physician walked to a hammered copper bowl, dipped his hands in hibiscus flowers floating in clear water. He sighed and rinsed his face, took the soft cotton towel offered. "My always present, Kafi." The man servant bowed. The physician dried his face and hands, setting the towel over the waiting arm. It warmed the servant that the towel returned folded, always. "Many come to ask guidance from the Great Physician, but Master, you are but one man and can only do what you can do. Please take rest." "Ah, Kafi, kind Kafi, I have been summoned to the Pharaoh's Throne. Kjoser believes he is dying and may wish to have me record more of his dreams," he pulled on his closely cropped chin beard, "Kafi, remind me that I must teach you the secret of writing on papyrus. You would do well at it and I would find more time for healing." "I know that it is not yet his time but he does suffer from occasional delusions. The Pharaoh calls and I go to him." The physician Imhotep was not of royal blood but walked, in many ways, more respected than Pharaoh, but not feared. His name meant "the one that comes in peace". As Imhotep walked through the Hall of Columns, the alternating patterns of light and shadow over the perfect square thick stone tiles marked the rhythm of life in the Royal Court- nights of light and days of darkness. Imhotep felt the columns rising like the giant palm trees of his distant home, Gebelein. The perfectly round carved trunks rose thirty feet supporting stone lintels and slabs of roof. It was in this building Imhotep felt most at home, alone but surrounded by a hundred tall memories. At the end of the center most colonnade, dark, strong armed guards stood on either side of the giant wooden door, the Seal of Kjoser carved into its thickness. One guard turned to push both panels open. Hinges oiled with olive oil. A short, roundish man, balding, sagging skin, beckoned, "Imhotep, chief minister, vizier, my doctor and architect, my friend, welcome." The pharaoh did not rise but nodded to several servant attendants. Immediately a padded wooden chair was set at the base of a three tiered pedestal. The architect bowed, low and sat looking up at Kjoser. "Pharaoh, may the Gods Amun and Ra continue to brighten your countenance," then leaned back, intent and relaxed. "And how is the tooth my Lord?" "Heh," smiled Pharaoh, "It no longer hurts me after you removed it. How you did that with no pain to your Patron? I suppose, this is yet another secret you will keep from me and take to your grave." "You become more popular each day, friend. If I did not know better, I would look behind every shadow to find you, aspiring. But I do know you, Imhotep. Never you, no, you don't want power because you have power. And you do not covet." "I am blessed my Lord and am your humble servant, Pharaoh." "You have survived two Pharaohs before me. You do not age like the rest of us. More of your secrets? You will outlive me and I am dying, my friend," Kjoser sighed. "I am dying and last night I dreamed a dream. You came to me high on a plateau of stone, the stars aligned, the moon asleep. I stood in the heavens, clouds below me covering all of humanity." The architect and seer offered, "Your years to this court are yet many, Master, sixteen to be precise. Sixteen times the Sun, the Earth will pass, before you slip into the Underworld to assume your journey as God. It will be as you dreamed; your stars are so aligned." Imhotep studied the stars as he had studied the ancient symbols pressed into thousands of clay tablets from his teachers, long dead, gathered from ancient Sumer. In Sumer lay all the secrets. Imhotep learned all he knew of medicine from the ancient cuneiform from Sumer. From the ancients he learned the formulas of the square, the strength of the triangle, the guidance of the stars. He learned from the dead ones the cure for over two hundred diseases, of the abdomen, of the bladder, of the rectum, of the eyes and skin and hair, nails and tongue. He learned to treat tuberculosis and to operate within the body itself, removing gallstones, inflamed appendicitis. He treated gout and arthritis with plant extracts. He remembered the position of vital organs and understood how the circulation of blood, like trees, delivered nutrients and energy to the body. Imhotep shifted his height, leaning on the carved wooden arm and studied the Pharaoh. "You wish something of me, my Lord." "Yes, Most Gracious Servant, Imhotep. You are to design a resting place for this body. It is to be like none other in history." "My Lord", suggested Imhotep after some time, "Upon a pedestal one hundred times as high as you now sit, you will sit in consort with the Gods." "This edifice has been shown me by ancient guides. It is inherently stable and can be built in sixteen years, in time for your journey into the next life." "I must know of its permanence, Architect. Tell me how my body will not be desecrated, my bones spread upon the sands, never to assemble into eternal life!" "It shall rise, stepping to the heavens, for over seventy cubits, higher than any mountain in Egypt, six sacred mastabas, each lifting you higher to the Sun." "And my body, Imhotep," implored the Pharaoh, "where will you conceal my body?" Imhotep leaned forward, fixed his eyes on Pharaoh, "The secret of how and where you body shall lie, shall, as well, die with me." The architect, vizier to the God Pharaoh, walked alone again through the silence of the columns. Moon light shadows cast long zebra stripes across the floor. Beyond the last cast shadow stood faithfully, Kafi. "Master, how went it with Pharaoh?" "As it always goes, Kafi. Please run ahead. Prepare my bath and oils. I am tired." Imhotep walked slowly, content within the peace of wisdom. His simple cotton robes gave nothing away of the power he wielded, nor did his voice. His manner, always, polite and kind and quick to forgive, as ready to smile, it was a lonely existence. So many days gone by, so many loves, so many experiments, he looked to the stars. "Golden One, my True Master, give me strength in the days left to me to be of most humble service. I am grateful, always, to my teachers, your Brothers," Imhotep prayed silently. As the High Priest of Heliopolis, he was Chief Priest of Lower Egypt, the North Country. Memphis, the seat of power, sat closer to the delta. It pleased Imhotep to live mostly in the lighter air of Heliopolis, the spiritual seat of Egypt. There, he would rest. He would leave in the morning after his bath, after a long night of darkness, after his prayers. I would go with him. Two thousand years after his death, quiet and dignefied, at home, Imhotep was made a God. "I am Kafi. It was my pleasure to wrap my master's body in the light cotton quilts. After I had washed his body and anointed it with frankensesnce and murr, after I had carefully placed his most sacred organs in clay jars and after I laid him, gently into the simply carved wood sarcophagous he insisted upon, after I kissed him one last time on his beautiful, kind and knowing forehead, I closed the lid and I buried him." "No one will find this place. I guard it still, checking on my old friend once in a while as I shuffle through time." Before my master passed into his next life, I shared with him my secret, my wisdom. "My name is Stonethrower. I travel through time. I came here, now, to serve you and to learn." Kind man, unique human being, Imohtep, smiled, "I know you Kafi. I know you Stonethrower. The stars have shared their wisdom." "I am Stonethrower. I travel through time and know the architects." P.S. Next week, Stonethrower introduces us to an American President, a slave owner and lover, a wise farmer, a gifted architect.

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