Asphodel Meadows: The People’s Paradise — Part III: Et in Arcadia (Ego)

Orpheus and Eurydice © Total Immersion Ltd 2012

Orpheus and Eurydice © Total Immersion Ltd 2012

Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
(John Keats, Ode on a Grecian Urn)

We’re almost out of our time together. Do you have any more questions?” asks Orpheus, my charming guide to Paradise.

Not for the moment, thank you, you’ve given me such a wealth of information to reflect on and absorb. You’re a star!”

“Alas not I, only my instrument,” he raises an ironic eyebrow. “And you’re most welcome. I enjoy coming here, especially as it gives me a chance to spend time with my wife.”

Your wife?” My face must have fallen a little, for Orpheus gives me one of his most radiant smiles and pats my hand gently.

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Asphodel Meadows: The People’s Paradise — Part I: Lilies of the Field

river wye sunrise3

Death is one of two things. Either death is annihilation, and the dead have no consciousness of anything; or, as we are told, it is really a change: a migration of the soul from this place to another. Now if there is no consciousness, but only a dreamless sleep, death must be a marvellous gain. If, on the other hand, death is a removal from here to some other place, and if what we are told is true, that all the dead are there, what greater blessing could there be than this? Put it this way: how much would one of you give to converse with Orpheus and Homer? Nay, if this be true, let me die again and again. It would be a specially interesting experience for me to join them there
(Socrates)

As the boat glides gently down the river I sink once more into a light trance in which time seems to be suspended. It is too dark to make out anything beyond the banks, though occasionally vague shapes seem to flit past.

Suddenly I am aware that the boat has stopped and is moored to the riverbank. The Boatman raises his hand and indicates that I should disembark. The sky is lightening, colour returning to the scenery, and I step out carefully.

The riverbank is covered with beautiful, tall, lily-white flowers, which emit a subtle fragrance as I brush through them and emerge into a lush meadow. Meanwhile my ear is caught by the sweetest sounds of music.

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