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J.L. Haynes Biography

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“One morning, a young Taoist priest named Silent Thunder Ghost ran up mount Mianshan to see a Taoist Immortal. The trail was long and arduous, and along the way many perilous paths were obscured by the morning mists. Arriving at the mountain peak he found the one called He Who Hides in Clouds, trying to balance a twisted, gnarly wooden staff on top of his finger. 'Dry me a wooden mountain…' said the Immortal who then threw his staff at least a mile high into the sky, whereupon the sun seemingly appeared from nowhere sending golden beams of sunlight onto his face. 'If it was me, and that was my go at life, I don’t think I’d want to do it again,' he said laughing, then he looked at his visitor. 'You are here to tell me you are making progress no doubt, have you found the Tao?' Unable to conceal his excitement Silent Thunder Ghost replied, 'I am no longer blind. I know the Tao and its ten thousand gifts. I live, I breathe, I see, I am life, I am the mountains, the morning dew on the trees, the moonlight reflecting in the lake, the starlight in my eyes, all these things are mine. My awareness is within me but reaches out to the furthest reaches of space.' As soon as he said this the gnarly old staff fell back to Earth, whereupon He Who Hides in Clouds caught it deftly with one hand and went on to press the tip against Silent Thunder Ghost’s chest. The Immortal said, 'All things are yours except your heart… the Tao keeps that part all to itself.' And then he vanished quite slowly and as he disappeared Silent Thunder Ghost was left holding the gnarly old staff, wondering if the conversation had ever really happened at all.”

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Author:J.L. Haynes
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“Leave the train!” More soldiers meet Fez and his loyal companion, “This way,” one shouts, “step into the circle!” Fez glances down, at a large circle scribed into the ground, and walks into the centre with Gnash skittering in behind him, at which point he addresses the soldiers. “Did you know the philosopher Gurdjieff wrote about his encounters with the Yezidis—how he once saw a Yezidi boy distraught, struggling to break out of a circle drawn in the ground by other boys. Try as he might the boy just couldn’t step outside of the circle. The other boys teased and taunted him until Gurdjieff erased part of the circle, whereby the boy was able to escape. Perhaps the philosopher wants us to think carefully about the Yezidis—perhaps you should think carefully about me.” Out of the floor a circular glass wall made of toughened glass shoots up, stopping at a circular lip in the ceiling, trapping them like a ship in a bottle. “A prison—how quaint, never been in a prison before. When do I get my medication?” No one answers, but Fez spies a security camera in the ceiling and stares into its lens. “You think that I think you can’t hear me, but I know that you don’t know I can.” “What’s he on about?” one of the operators asks in the control room. “Something about us hearing him.”

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Book:Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol
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“Okay,” she exhales, closes her eyes and dissolves her mind to a state of emptiness. Inside her head, an instinct, a compulsion triggers her next action. “I’m ready…” Zara slowly reaches forward, touches the Tetragrammaton with her index and middle finger, nothing at first, then an odd sensation, a feeling of divine power and knowledge. “It’s beautiful,” a surge of information overwhelms her senses—she turns her palms face up, as she does they turn transparent to reveal the constellations, “I am that which is not, born from the imperishable stars.”

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Book:Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol
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“Next up is the Elb of Fire and Fusion, it phases in front of them. Its entrance is impressive, for under its translucent shell an orbital symmetry, as one by one it mimics the atoms of the heavy elements. A surreal animation. “” The set changes to a view from the international space-station, the entire crew looking through the window at the beauty of Gaia, but something amiss can be seen in their expressions. A grave seriousness that something is aloof, foreboding. “” From the space-station the planet Earth is viewed. A serene blue marble, peaceful, passive, when one of the crew points to a white spot, then another. More follow, leading to a chain-reaction, as the blue planet appears to twinkle in space. The whiteness hails the day of reckoning. “”

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Book:Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol
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“The shell, it looks alive…” Zara stands awestruck, admiring the seamless shape of the gravity-defying vessel. “Classic flying saucer look, no seams, as if it was moulded into shape,” she touches the shell, it recoils away from her hand, “it feels alive.” A metallic voice sounds, reverberating around the vessel. A feminine voice. “Assertion. I am alive and right here in front of you—who pray tell are you?”

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Book:Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol
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“When we see beauty, we’re seeing a part of ourselves, a reflection in time. Ask me the time, Zara.” “What time is it?” “It’s perhaps a time.” “Perhaps a time, what kind of a time is perhaps a time?” Zara asks, somewhat curiously amused. “The ‘that’ part, that’s the part of the kind of ‘perhaps a time’ we’re talking about.” “What’s the ‘that’ part?” “It’s the part found in anytime.” “Anytime?” A confused look knits on Zara’s brow. “Yes, ‘perhaps a time’ is ‘anytime’, but you need a place, ‘anyplace’ to find anytime.” “Anyplace to find anytime? Do you have any idea how mad you sound?” “Oh, it’s such a colorful thing this void of mine. It’s all sparkly, fluffy and light, twinned with the inevitability of life. Besides, I only sound mad when I’m ‘anywhere’, dear.” “Where the hell is anywhere?” Zara asks, this time very confused. “Sometimes it’s up, sometimes it’s down. Anywhere oh anywhere a place we sow confusion all around.”

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“...and then the mysterious Elb appear to rearrange the very fabric of reality itself. They do not travel through the vast expanse, instead space becomes a cocoon as they weave the strings of the universe into a silken-case, only to break it open, emerging at their destination. A form of travel so inexplicable that the Eyt have not developed the conceptual awareness to even measure the basic mechanics of such phenomena.”

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Book:Zara Hanson & The Mystery of the Painted Symbol
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