Sixty Nine

Dasha makes the run with me to get French bread, we’re fifteen miles from the nearest town and thirty from major groceries. I want the bread from Sprout’s, and we need fresh fruit and Kefir as well. Kefir is a milk based smoothie. It’s got a bit more sugar than I like, twenty grams per serving instead of my usual limit of fifteen. The active cultures are good for us and the flavors are excellent. Janah likes Greek yogurt, plain, too much sugar in the fruit mix. I add fresh fruit to hers and mix in Monkfruit sweetener, which has zero calories. 
We stock up the SUV, and drive home.
Grace B helps us unload, “Think you got enough fruit? We should just grow the crap here.”
“You want to pick fruit?”
“Touché, stay with the damn store. Bad enough I have to wash all this.”
Dasha, “I will make cobbler Dahfoney, blackberry, cherry, apple, wiz Splenda, no sugar, also crème fraiche.”
“You’ll be popular, pulled pork and cobbler.”
Janah, “Did I overhear cobbler?”
“You did, if you’re a bad girl, you can have seconds.”
“No sweat,” she goes off to her afternoon nap, her brain needs the rest. 
Lauren passes and follows Janah up the steps. She likes the feel of Janah’s silky skin against her satin skin. They don’t sex, that’s not Lauren’s thing, but she has no issues with physical contact, she likes that part. And she’s a merciless tease.
Janah, “Lauren is letting me enjoy her enjoying herself in the mirror. She and Amaya would live in a house with mirrored walls if they could."
“All love starts with self love, I think that’s a sutra.”

Janah giggles in my head, “A lost sutra, but it has the ring of truth. God she’s hot.”
I’m looking through her eyes, “So she is. If Amaya was standing next to her, we could climax just staring.”
“I think I’m going to climax anyway, two of them would be deadly…ooohh...gotta go.”

I see Lauren turn to face Janah, she swipes one long finger between her legs, Janah vibes though a lovely orgasm.
I hear Lauren, “Good girl, now you may hold me.”
I disconnect. Anymore and I’m going off myself.
Grace B, “You are flush, horny slut. Lauren teased Janah into submission I take it.”
I grin, “Janah loves it.”
Dinner is a hit, who doesn’t like pulled pork, garlic mashed and southern green beans with lots of onion and ham pieces simmered all day.
“Amaya, any status on the movie?”
“Film LA in November, to then Kyoto in the spring, April. We will be there a month, I assume the entire tribe is coming, including Danika and Su. We booked an entire monastery and rooms for everyone.”
Su, “We are going? How splendid, thank you.”
“I couldn’t see you passing on a month in a Buddhist monastery. Even if it is Shingon not Shaolin.”
“Are you shipping Kota B?”
“Yes, airfreight, we could get her through airport security with our connections, but she’s too advanced, it would raise questions. We don’t need the government wanting to know how we made such a human-like bot.”
“Kota B, you don’t mind going to Japan in a box?”
“One box is as good as another. It is not like I drink Champagne or eat the food. I do not need the comforts, my ride in the cargo area will be fine.”
Grace B, “You are not seriously contemplating leaving me in Manhattan?”
“You want to go to Japan?”
“Want is not in my area, I do not desire. You will need me to keep your shit straight, and Kota B will need help with the weird ones.”
Janah, “She has a point, we can pack up two as easily as one.”
Grace B, “Of course I have a point. I do not run my mouth to hear my head rattle, like some people I know…Daphne.”
Sloane, “While your head isn’t rattling, maybe you could bring me more of that pork, and green beans, and mashed potatoes.”
Even Nishiko has a dab of seconds, a near miracle. Then as we settle in around the room, Grace B plays Amaya’s new version of Sherlock Holmes. It  was released a few months ago. Sherlock isn’t Sherlock, the hero is the great-great something from the line of Dr. Watson, and a woman, more a girl. A fourteen year old misanthropist like Sherlock, with a brain to match. Her Watson is a bot, similar to ours, but today’s real bots don’t measure up to ours. The fans of the series see it a science fiction, we see it as science fact.
Amaya, “Like the Sherlock series, she draws too accurate conclusions from shaky premises, but that’s Sherlock. A ‘military bearing,’ whatever that means, like he walks straight up with his shoulders back? Then, ‘his mobile device is two generations out of date, he has fallen on hard times’, the usual specifics from vagaries.”
Janah, “Brilliance is relative, to an average audience, her observations are brilliant.”
Amaya, “I kept the plot devices. Scotland Yard out of its depth, elder detectives hopelessly technophobic. She vapes like Sherlock used to smoke, and she uses pharmaceuticals to dull her too active mind when there is no interesting criminality. Her Watson bot fusses, to no avail. The best part is the anti-Sherlock, he found women difficult and mostly vapid. She finds men obtuse and dull. Her Professor Moriarty is a bot everyone thinks is human.”
Eloise, “The audience likes the familiarity the Sherlock everyone knew, in situations they knew, but current era and the tech to match. And your dialogue is pure Amaya, snappy, funny and straightforward. You didn’t use Chloe, or Ellen or any of the others though.”
“No, TV is time consuming. Chloe might play a role for a movie and a sequel or two, but not a TV series where the audience forever sees her as that character. She still has fans that want her to be Ultra Violet, but two sequels is enough. I crank out the script and send it to the director, I don’t involve myself in production like with our films. I did this season, and I’m prepping next, after that, it’s over.”
Grace B serves cobbler and Cognac, “Enjoy piggies, crème fraiche anyone?”
Everyone has crème fraiche, who wouldn’t?
Chloe, “Sinfully delish Dasha. Guess a few more calories won’t hurt.”
Dasha, “Ees no high calorie, no sugar.”

Seventy

We finish up with an hour of TV, girls head to bedrooms. As I come out from the bathroom, Janah’s already piled up, I slide in next to her. As she drifts off, I hear our door open, it’s Lauren, she takes the side next to me.
“I decided you needed to cuddle me, Janah finds me incredibly cuddleable.”
“She’s seldom wrong.”
Lauren takes my hand and places it between her legs, “You may touch, I am in need of an orgasm, and it will make you so steamy to give me one.”
I deliver the goods, slowly, let her peak and subside a few times until she’s squirmy as gasping. Then I tease the hot spot and she ignites.
While she catches her breath, I lick the luscious lotion from my fingers.
A long sigh, “That was superbo mommy,” she giggles, “perv.”
I kiss her neck, her soft lips, she grins, “I taste me on you, delectable, yes?”
“Understatement.”
“You may kiss the object of your lust, once.”
I slide down and lean in, I make once last a half minute, return to my spot alongside. I feel her hand slide up the inside of my thigh.
“You are molten, this shouldn’t take long,” her long fingers play, I do my part and melt.
She rubs her wet fingers along my lips, then slides them into her mouth, slowly slides them out, she kisses me.
“Double delight, now hold me and revel in your good fortune.”
I laugh to myself, like Amaya, Lauren’s ego knows no bounds. We sleep, silent, peaceful, restorative.
This morning Dasha and I are at our posts in the kitchen, today we go eclectic, Miso soup, smoked salmon with chopped hardboiled egg, diced onion and capers, slices of lemon to top. Followed by French toast. We thought about grilling garden burgers for a side, decide to do that for lunch instead.
The troops troop in. Sloane and Janah are always ready to eat, the others sip coffee or tea and nibble salmon. Grace B sets out bowls of Miso. The children breakfast by the pool, Kota B delivers their starters, they like smoked salmon but with chopped egg only, strangely they love Miso soup. I think it’s because they switch from Russian after salmon to Japanese when the soup is served. I don’t know what happens when the French toast arrives, they don’t speak French.
Amaya, “We’re in LA next week, filming the rape scene and a few odds and ends. Ellen and Sarah need to be there. When Matt introduces them to Chloe in Japan, he will have first explained what they do. That will be demonstrated by them knocking off a couple of people while Matt tells Chloe about them. Those killings happened in the States, so we can film them in Los Angeles on a set.”
Sloane, “I’m glad you figure all this out, not sure I could put a movie together that made sense.”
Amaya, “That is why we went to LA a couple months ago, get all the sequences straight, who needs to be where, when. When the scenes are shot, Amelia parks herself in the editing room and pulls them together. Marina, her production assistant is thorough and efficient, there will not be location mistakes or editing flubs. This is their breakthrough debut, they are not going to muff it.”
“Can Katya and Katja go as security? I know there are two professional assassins going already, but they will be occupied with their roles.”
“Mani is coming, she has no role in the States, not until Japan. Ellen and Sarah have simple stuff, their bit will take less than an hour or two and none of it involves Chloe or Mani. Chloe is a 6th dan Kendoka, she can beat crap out of a guy with any stick laying around. Oh, Katya and Katja will come here and hang with you guys. We only need a week in LA, almost everything is on a set, one scene in a house we rented.”
I’m satisfied, sort of. Amaya is ultra-cautious about Chloe’s security, she’s been attacked twice, once at a premiere in Manhattan, the second time in LA. 
“Janah and I will tag along, we staying at Shutters?”
Amaya, “Where else? You are hopefully security overkill, but given Chloe’s magnet-like ability to attract assholes, I will feel better having you along. I get Ellen first though.”
I laugh, “I can make do with Sarah and Mani.”
Amaya, “We shall meet everyone at the airport, Dasha can drive Katya and Katja back here, the rest of us will go on to Los Angeles. We shall need a bigger plane, there will be me, Chloe, Ellen, Sarah and Mani, Eloise, you and Janah, eight. I will make arrangement with Shutters and Blue Sky. We will need a medium jet to pick up five in New Orleans, then fly eight to LA.”
Better, I decide. Amaya can only communicate mind to mind with me, and it’s not much help if she’s in danger in LA and I’m in Arizona.
“Kota B, what are the children doing today?”
“They will be speaking Japanese all day in preparation for our trip. They want to play on the karts this morning, then to the pool. Lunch, a nap, art or calligraphy until tea.”
Full day then, they always have full days, it takes little on our part to keep them occupied. Either Kota B has a plan or the girls dream up something.
Lauren, “Sloane, Cassie and I are wandering the property, I should say run, it is impossible to get Sloane to simply walk. Then the pool.”
Janah’s finishing off a second chunk of French toast, “What’s for lunch?”
“Garden burgers for all, with coleslaw and fries. Before you ask, Dasha is making seafood gumbo for dinner.”
Janah, “Yum, I have the rest of the morning to anticipate lunch, and all afternoon to anticipate dinner. Amaya and I will yoga, then lunch. This afternoon, I’m in the office making contact calls for a couple of hours.”
Nikko, “Good, then Daria, Zi and I can use the office until lunchtime.”
Oceane drifts upstairs, she’ll be in the pool shortly.
Eloise, “I should yoga with Janah. This afternoon Lauren and I have to prepare shipping containers for the bots’ Japan trip.”
Grace B, “Make the damn things secure, mouse. I do not expect to have to undergo repairs when I arrive.”
Eloise giggles, “You are near indestructible, but we will make it coffin-like, you and Kota B will be nice and cozy, like vampires.”
Day planned, Grace B proceeds to clear platters, plates and utensils, Dasha gets a jump on the roux she’ll need for gumbo. I pull the crabmeat and shrimp from the freezer. In Manhattan, we add fresh oysters, impossible to get in Arizona. The canned ones are small and chewy, more the consistency of clams. We buy the canned anyway, the liquid is good for flavoring the seafood stock. Shallots, onion and okra flesh out the gumbo, we do not add tomatoes. I want the gumbo brown, not tomato-y.
Our day sails by, before I know it Grace B is ladling out gumbo into bowls with a few tablespoons of brown rice. Rice should be a minor part of the dish, it’s gumbo with rice, not rice with gumbo. Crusty buttery French bread accompanies.
Zi, “Cripes Dasha, you just get better at gumbo, this is divine.”
“Spasibo, secret ees in roux, nice and brown, not burned, never quit stirring while it heats.”
Oceane stabs a shrimp and feeds it to Cassie, dips a chunk of bread in the sauce and bites, “I taste the ocean, my friends feed me,” she dips her spoon, a hunk of okra, chunk of crab, swimming in rich brown gravy.
I must admit, it is most savory, particularly when I add a few dashes of habanero sauce to my bowl, it’s already loaded with black pepper. 
One bowl is the appetizer, a second bowl is the entrée, gumbo is complete in itself, there is no need for any side other than bread for dipping.
Janah is on her third, gumbo dessert?
She asks, “What’s for dessert?”
Should have known.
Dasha, “Ben and Jerry vanilla wiz chocolate sauce, maybe crushed pecan.”
Janah, “I’ll take mine by the pool please, in a half hour.”
Grace B, “All the piggies move along, Cognac in twenty, dessert in thirty. I have work to do and I cannot do it with gumbo infused women hanging around the table.”
Chloe, “I am in need of a stroll.”
Nikko, “Good idea. Grace B, light up the property, the night is most pleasant.”
We have ground lights spaced around the area, you can see where your feet need to go without interfering with the gorgeous night sky. Our multitude strolls the grounds, the children don’t stroll, they twinkle in and out around us.
Zi, “How are we dividing up the flights to Japan?”
Amaya, “Two private flights. Fourteen passengers per, we have twenty eight, so there will be full flights. It is thirteen hours from Phoenix. I thought about regular commercial, but we would have to buy all of first on two planes and all of business on one, then conform to their schedule rather than ours.”
Danika, “I looked up the temple complex, it is splendid. Su will be immersed in study.”
“Probably ask her to teach a few classes. She knows more about Buddhism than Buddha.”
Su, “Well, they made up a lot of stuff after the Buddha came and went. I am fairly certain he would not recognize much of Buddhism today, anymore than Christ would recognize Christianity.”

Seventy One

Plane ride wasn’t bad, private flying is sooo much more comfortable. Commercial air does a great job in first or even business, but they can’t fix the TSA on our end, or security on the other, or customs. Our Japanese agents, however, make all that go away. We are, after all, bringing jobs and a ton of money for a month stay. Not to mention favorable media coverage and a star famous for her films, Japanese commercials and talk show appearances. Plus, the bad guys are Caucasian, not Asian.
We go straight from the airport to the three side by side houses we rented in Kyoto. A hotel was too complicated for so many, and we want the children more sequestered than they would be in a hotel.
Danika, “Everything is perfectly Japanese, what splendid homes.”
“Take the rest of the day to roam, try not to sleep, press on until bedtime. We’ve found pretending that whatever time it is where we land is how to proceed with the day. We left at ten in the morning yesterday, it’s two thirty in the afternoon now. We will have tea at four thirty as usual, dinner is being delivered at six thirty. Kota B, keep the children occupied.”
Kota B, “They slept on the plane, and they are so excited to be here, the problem will not be keep them up, it will be getting them to bed.”
“Then let’s take them for a two hour tour of Kyoto. Grace B, you and Emma B organize the luggage, don’t unpack everything, it will just be repacked when we go to the temple complex. We’ll be back for tea.”
“Good thing I insisted on Emma B coming along, I can see my trip is going to be slave labor. I do not even make minimum wage.”
“Yeah, yeah, play games with her while you organize, let’s go ladies who are going.”
Amaya, “I have meetings, Chloe, Eloise, Ellen, Sarah and Mani need to be there, they can tour some other time.”
Katja, “Sister and I will listen in on meeting, we want to know what happens when.”
“Good idea, are the kids ready? Let’s take a hike.”
Beautiful spring day in Kyoto, we stroll the areas nearest, which include the Gion district, where the Geishas hang. It’s too early for them to be roaming about much, the tourists are out in droves. We pass the Yasaka-jinja Shrine, the children chatter in Japanese, which arouses the attention of the Japanese nearby. Nikko explains that they are studying the culture and have become conversant in the language. The old folks smile and nod, the children ask them a thousand questions, which delights the crowd of elders.
We were going to walk to the Kamo-gawa River, but the locals insisted on taking the kids through the shrine. They patiently explain Shinto and the myriad Gods and surrounding ceremonies, the girls listen respectfully and ask appropriate questions. They have no religion, but Kota B has drilled them on manners and etiquette, the last few months on Japanese etiquette. They are surrounded by natives fascinated by young Caucasian girls with such a Japanese attitude.
Nikko hears one woman tell her husband, “If only our children respected our traditions as these girls do. Where are they from? Who taught them?”
We chew up two hours before we know it, the girls bow repeatedly to their elders and scurry down the steps with Kota B and the rest of us following behind. We return to the house, or houses, we take tea in the largest.
Dasha, “You did well children, I am thankful to Kota B for teaching you.”
Valeska, “The old ones were nice Mama, we did not know about all the Shinto Gods. We will ask Kota B to explain why they have so many.”
Daria, “You showed good manners by not pestering the old people, they have their way, we have ours.”
Tasia, “We do not have any Gods, Mama. But we have talked about it with Kota B. We understand most people have superstitions, it does not concern us, we know not to make insults.”
Uma, “The Zycyryn sparkled Tetya Dafna , did you not see? They find all the human Gods and superstitions amusing.”
“Why?”
“Because they know all about beings all over the universe, millions that came and went.”
Nadia, “The Zycyryn are timeless, they have seen thousands of civilizations rise and fall throughout the universe. No civilization lasts forever, new one come into being continuously. Humans are unaware of these things, they believe they are unique, which they are not. Not even much advanced.”
“The Zycyryn have told you this?”
Karol, “They show us, like a movie in our brain.”
“Kota B, you know about this?”
“Of course, it happens when they dance, or other times when they are completely still. I do not see any of it, my sensors tell me the energies are active, but that is all.”
Sloane, “That’s so cool.”
Lauren, “That our civilization will eventually crumble?”
“Of course it will. The sun is going to collapse and explode in five billion years anyway. I am certain we will kill ourselves off long before then. My money is on a virus, or a strain of bacteria resistant to all antibiotics. Fortunately, none of us ever get sick, maybe we’ll be the last humans on the planet.”
“Then you will be the last sperm donor.”
We laugh, Janah says, “In the future, not even the distant future, sperm won’t be needed. People won’t be needed, we will birth humans in a test tube so to speak. They will be a mix of human and AI. Disease and age resistant as we are.”
Amaya, “I shall no doubt be the model of femme perfection.”
Lauren, “Along with me, and Oceane, who is annoyingly splendid.”
Right on all counts.
Danika, “Anyone in this family could serve, when you are out, people stare almost in disbelief.”
I smile, “Thank you Danika, my esteem is refreshed.”
Nikko, “Like that needed to be shored up. It was a nice compliment Danika, domo arigato.”
Amaya, “We had a lovely meeting with our Japanese arm, they are so efficient. Amelia and Miranda were impressed. Oh, and Matt and Claudia arrived, they are coming for cocktails with Amelia and Miranda, so you will have to be guest decent. No naked children racing around, got it Kota B?”
“The children will be appropriate. Are they to take dinner in their quarters?”
“No, they will be included with the rest of us. Daphne, how will dinner work?”
“A giant buffet, they will come soon to set up. They offered serves to explain the dishes but that’s unnecessary, we know what’s what in Japanese cuisine. Lots of fish, Miso of course, sashimi chef and tempura fried while you watch.”
Sloane, “Great, I’m hungry already.”
Amaya, “You just pigged on Japanese sweets.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
Dinner is splendido, the crew swoops in, sets up, next thing we know we’ve plates of sashimi, bowls of Miso, perfectly tempura fried vegetables and shrimp, the big fat ones. Crunchy batter with dark soy and wasabi to dip it in. Janah and Eloise are offering sake toasts, our two sets of Russian twins reply with vodka toasts. The children are sleepy-eyed, as are the rest of us.
Tomorrow is the first day of work for the movie girls. We wander to respective bedrooms in the three houses, doesn’t take long for things to get quiet.

Seventy Two

Eight girls are up and out early on location. I don’t know where that is, I think Amaya said they would be in two or three places today, including the residence of apprentice geishas called maiko. A girl goes to train with an Okaasan, usually a retired geisha. She serves the maiko and trains until she is promoted to maiko. At that point she bonds with a ‘sister’ maiko, which is for life.
Everything is supplied by the Okaasan, with, of course, a running tab charged to the maiko. Bed and board are all supplied. Since a single kimono can run to thirty thousand dollars, and a maiko may have a dozen or more, repayment takes a long time. The maiko performs, the money she makes goes to repay the Okaasan. Once she becomes geisha, she is free to earn money on her own, find a place of her own to live, become independent. It’s not instant gratification, it’s a long dedicated slog, but the end result is a talented performance artist and genial conversationalist with impeccable etiquette. 
We breakfast lightly, more Miso of course, smoked fish, then dress and on the streets. The girls are in a rainbow of chemises, with white socks and brand new spotless white sneakers. They have beribboned each other’s hair with white satin, they are precious. Amaya isn’t here to fuss over them, but she pops in my head so she can inspect through my eyes.
“Fix Uma’s stray hair over her left ear, pull up Nadia’s sock and retie Zofia’s shoes, otherwise, they are splendid. I must be off, enjoy your day.
Tasia whispers to Valeska, “There is no escaping Tetya Amaya,” they giggle quietly.
Dasha, “Tetya Amaya ees for making children peerfect, she buys you entire new wardrobe for trip, you will appreciate.”
“Da Mama.”
There are endless temples and shrines which the children never lose enthusiasm visiting. They captivate visitors at each, young gaijin with impeccable Japanese and full of questions. Nishiko is most fluent and is eventually recognized as the daughter of Hanshi Murakami, the famous 9th dan kendōka from the Murakami samurai clan. There’s a draft from all the bows. We would prefer the children not be photographed, but the place is swamped with phones snapping photos and we can hardly start a commotion. All of Kyoto, particularly its resident maiko and geisha are perpetually photographed, it’s the national sport.
We lunch touring the stalls in the four hundred year old Nishiki Market, offerings meticulously displayed, like food works of art. Most of it is for shopping to take home and prepare, but there are numerous takeaway prepared options and several sit down restaurants. We opt for Katsukura, superb Tonkatsu, deep-fried pork cutlets. And excellent side dishes including deep-fried shrimp, tofu-skin croquettes, stewed pork, egg custards, and tsukemono, Japanese-style pickles.
Picking food is the other national sport, there are entire shops devoted to pickled food.
We feast in food heaven, every taste seems better than the last. 
Lauren is poking around on her phone, “After that meal, we should take on the Philosopher’s Walk.”
It’s cherry blossom time, the Philosopher’s Walk is a path following a cherry tree lined canal. It passes a number of temples and shrines such as Hōnen-in, Ōtoyo Shrine, and Eikan-dō Zenrin-ji. 
Devona, “Why is it called Philosopher’s Walk Mama?”
“Perhaps Janah knows, or Kota B.”
Janah, “The Japanese philosopher Nishida Kitaro is thought to have used it for daily meditation.”
Karol, “What was his philosophy?”
Kota B, “According to Wiki, the most famous concept in Nishida's philosophy is the logic of basho, a non-dualistic concrete logic, meant to overcome the inadequacy of the subject-object distinction essential to the subject logic of Aristotle and the predicate logic of Immanuel Kant, through the affirmation of what he calls the ‘absolutely contradictory self-identity’, a dynamic tension of opposites that does not resolve in a synthesis. Rather, it defines its proper subject by maintaining the tension between affirmation and negation as opposite poles or perspectives.”
Nadia, “What does that mean Tetya Janah?”
“Kitaro maintained that the most profound form of experience is the pure experience. It isn’t clear to me what he means by pure experience, I think he means a non-dual experience, without subject-object. One that would produce the feeling of harmony and unity. That thread runs through much Oriental philosophy, like Buddhism. I will have to locate a copy of his books, An Inquiry into the Good or The Logic of the Place of Nothingness and the Religious Worldview. They should be for sale here someplace. They will be in Japanese, you can read them and we can discuss with Kota B.”
Kota B, “Wiki says in its piece on Nishida that ‘pure experience does not contain any cognitive perception of oppositions such as those of subject and object, body and mind, or time and space. Nishida aimed to use the concept to define the value of religious experience. By transcending the dichotomous standpoint, Nishida opens a new metaphysical passage to the consideration of immediate experience absent all intervention by judgmental reflection. Nishida, who did not consider ethical problems separate from the problem of self for each individual, understood pure experience to be the realization of true selfhood. The good is the perfection of true individuality, the only foundation for the well-being of all humanity.’”
Janah, “That sounds even more like Buddhism, no distinctions, only observe what is without a label. It also sounds contradictory, true individuality and non-dualism do match up in my mind. But I haven’t read him, so I have no pure experience of his work.”
Devona, “Oceane, Cassie and my sisters already experience the world without distinctions.”
Janah taps into my head, “New information.”
“With the kids, there is always new information.”

You may wonder about six to eleven year olds’ interest and familiarity with such topics. Remember, while they do not age, that does not mean they do not mature. Our children appear physically as children, but their physical appearance belies their true maturity.
Janah, “Kitaro was a twentieth century philosopher who attempted to blend western and Eastern philosophy. He no doubt read William James, who came up with the phrase ‘pure experience’ in his denial of consciousness as a thing that experiences happen inside. He says, ‘only one primal stuff or material in the world, a stuff of which everything is composed, and...we call that stuff pure experience.' For James, there is no difference between consciousness and its content, all that exists is pure experience. The so called hard problem of consciousness is a fabrication.”
Kota B, “So you are saying that Nishida Kitaro plucked his ideas, at least in part, from William James.”
“As I said, I haven’t read Kitaro. I must say, the phrase pure experience comes from James before Kitaro used it.”
Kota B, “Good catch Janah, in fact, my search uncovered papers that say Kitaro acknowledged James’ influence on his philosophy. He never pretended he invented it.”
“Ah, good to know, he incorporated it honestly.”
Zofia, “There is no higher consciousness, there is only limited experience. We experience the Zycyryn communicating with us, they do not communicate with you because you do not understand. You do not experience Zycyryn, for you they do not exist except as an abstract concept. You would ask, how do I communicate with them? We ask no such question. When you attempt to act on them, they are invisible to you. We see because we do not act.”
Zofia is seven. The children’s maturity allows them to explain, their youth allows them to see without society’s conditioning, which closes and restricts.
Can anyone learn to see without preconceived ideas? Or lose the blinders of conditioning. We shall explore that possibility, what might it look like, how would it feel? The first step is to acknowledge that there is far more than meets our mind’s eye.
“Appears Philosopher’s Walk brings out our inner philosopher.”
Su, “A most interesting discussion. I would like to be included on the exploration of  Kitaro.”
Janah, “Of course. Perhaps the children will be able to further educate us.”

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