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So you have requested audience… a deep voice, hoarse as a water’s torrent running and jumping on a river bed smothered with pebbles, asked from the darkness.

Midora was not afraid of the darkness. As best as she could explain it, it was the void of creation, where everything came from, and where all was stripped of intrinsic meaning. It was from this place that she could reach for the answers.

She knew this place, she felt memories swirling around, as uncatchable as a swarm of short-lived sparkles born from the reddish embers of a dying fire.
In this lifetime, she was only a eleven year old girl, but she was as old as this voice within her. There was a time where she was playing with that voice, a time where her being was not yet, and yet a time which was in her future.
She was pure consciousness in that dream time space, and yet, she was feeling more comfortable with physical symbols around herself. So she focused on one of the symbols that she knew would help her stabilize her vibration, and in doing so, all the small particles of golden light around her started to swirl and coalesced into a dream body.

She was in front of a cave, in a mountainous area. This body provided her a slowing down of the stream of information that came to her, and she could manipulate more efficiently the interaction with that huge presence she felt. The precipitous rocky environment was a symbol of that steadiness and slowing down and also, for her benefit of her beliefs in that acquiring such information might be a difficult task.
Now she had identified it, she could more easily dispel the obstacles on the path to the cave. The cave of course, was her symbol for reaching into her deep inner nature. And the darkness was only a fitting blank canvas for herself to project and translate the energy interactions.
All of that she knew, as it was knowledge embedded into herself that she could more easily access into this trance-like state, in her room in that location in space and time of 2112 in New Venice. And she knew that also for she was taught by her parents, Bart and Oscar, on how to access it.

The voice was inside the cave. And no sooner had she thought of it that she was finding the whole place morphing into a vast room built into the rock, in the middle of which a majestic golden dragon was slowly breathing.
She had translated the vast energy as that of a dragon, but she knew when she felt into it that it had possible variations, one of which being that of a she-phoenix, of various sizes, where sizes where symbolic of its age and wisdom.

— You may call me Naasir the dragon grinned at Midora. You are right, in a sense, you can consider yourself being born from me, though in your true form, you are equally august and splendid as I am. You will, in time, have access to that form, again. But for now, I can provide some answers to your questions. The only thing is… Are your questions up to the challenge? he added with the most benevolent smirk his wide toothed grin could convey.

Midora pondered for a moment, beholding the perfection of her translation of the energy. Each scale on the body of the dragon was a work of art. His half-closed eyes, with an amber shiny center, and teal border were equally mesmerizing.

— What is the significance of these books I have inherited from my parents?

— As you know, this place is the place were significance fades away, or radiates, depending on the direction in which you look, only to be replaced by fulfillment. Your… books hence, have no significance, I would say, for me at least. What do you want to know about them?

— They were passed from people to people, and as far as I understood, they started to be imprinted with these people’s stories, starting from my grand-parents Indy and Cuthbert. But there are still blank pages inside them, and no seeming order from one page to the other. I think that’s why my grand-parents grew tired of it.

— Continue…

— What I mean is… I feel attracted to them, and yet I don’t understand how they work…

— These… are not mere books as your ancestors understood them. In fact, they were crafted by a distant civilization, not denizens from this dimension in which you are presently focused, but travelers, with whom you can still interact by means of this device. When the “books” traveled into this dimension, they retained their initial properties and functioning, but their initial shapes were translated into something as close as you could understand so that you would allow them to appear into your reality. This knowing might help you unravel their true nature.

Another thing. Books are energy deposits, in your reality. There was a misunderstanding in that they were thought to be able to liber or to free your memory by imprinting it into the pages, but memories are alive and not separate from you. They live as you live and change them. So, the books are still being written, and that which you can read is the part of the book which is the most probable story in which you choose to insert yourself, so as to explore it. You can alter these probabilities, even if you might doubt it, but as you chose them, they are much a part of your design of your reality, that which you chose to explore. In short, a complete book means the end of your exploration, and prompts for a disengagement for you to continue other explorations, and on the contrary, a blank books means a boundless realm of probable explorations.

— Can you tell me why there are two of them?

— They are more than a couple. These ones are the only known ones that your ancestors happen to have found. Most of them have been destroyed over time in this dimension, as their possibilities were heavily cloaked. They are all linked together, as you will find out. You may gather some answers in finding Badul…

And with that, Midora was once again floating in an intermediate state hung between space and time, longing for her physical body. She woke up strangely energized…

Oh this is a sync! When I was at Rosie’s (catching this flu, I might add) she had magnetic letters on her fridge and I was making words with them. She gave me a box of magnetic words so I can make poems on my fridge

Marvin Scrozzezi was considering a script that had been sent to him by his friend.
Betty, his assistant, had insisted that he reads it…

Seeing his current movie, it couldn’t be any worse in any case.
The title of the script cracked him up.

Ogregan, the Origeans

Marvin giggled, almost spluttering his smoking chai on the script.

He started to read the first paragraphs.

FADE IN:
EXT. WOODS
A big humphing man plunges into the woods. Twigs slap at him,
but the sound of gunfires keeps him going. Sheriff Marshall is
taking the lead, but an auburn haired man plunges into the woods
before him, followed by one dark-haired one. They are obviously
brothers. The older one is ELVIN STREWN, he is following his
younger brother with the lopsided hair, JAY STREWN.
JAY is shooting at the fugitive, ALDO MC GALLIGAN, a local
mobster known as the OGREGAN.

Gunfire explodes in trees near the STREWN brothers, shot at them
by MC GALLIGAN, and they dive and roll into hiding under a
palisade.

Interesting stuff, wonders Marvin… That mobster looks like a fascinating character…

Flipping though the script he found page 57 another catching bit of reading…

 DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. PROSPERITY BANK ; SHOT of a Texan bank on a quiet street.
INT. PROSPERITY BANK
There are three customers, male. Enters a MOTHER and her SON.
TELLER#1: What can I do for you Mrs MC GALLIGAN?
MRS GALLIGAN to her SON who is drawing on her dress: ALDO, will
you keep still for a moment, good for nothing!

…

Pfff, Marvin sighed, feeling bored.
Not long after, he was sound asleep, snoring loudly on the comfortable chair.

— The legend of Mævel — (Part VII)

Today was the Day of the Forgotten. Mævel had slept well, nestled into the soft and warm depth of her dreams, her head resting on the short blue fur of the fox.
In sharp contrast with the lovely night, she awoke strangely irritated. Even the birds songs were like noise to her ears, and every sound of the forest she heard with acute intensity and a sense of being submerged by many sensory inputs.
Hopefully, the blue fox voice was still very comforting, and she started to wonder how they could come across a Forgotten One in need.

— I think I know where we can find some Forgotten One in need.
— Where? asked Mævel

The fox paused, then answered her question:
— Near your human parents’ home.

Mævel was surprised. She trusted the fox, and never had really questioned him, because more than that she trusted her own feelings, but now her feelings were telling her that there was something the fox had not told her. Or had told her partially. She was silent, pondering the unseen implications.

— Mæ, I’ll try my best to answer your questions, but remember I cannot tell you everything. I can help you remember some things, but there are things that my curse does not allow me to reveal. You have to find them by your own, in order to free us…
— Free us? I thought you were the one Cursed?…
— Yes I am, and…
— How do you know my parent’s home? How much do you know about me?
— I know you since you are a baby actually. And even before…
— Before? I don’t understand a thing… I feel there are some unseen links, that I cannot decipher, yet they are so close to…
— You’re right, there are links, links that are important, and that I cannot reveal.
— Why can’t you reveal them?
— Let’s go to your human parent’s home…
— Why do you always say my human parents?

The fox blew in front of him, creating a wobbling sound into the air in the form of a ring large enough for them to go through it. And he hopped inside, disappearing in mid-air.

Mævel was perplexed, but did not hesitate. She hopped too into the watery ring in front of her and found herself falling into a void, to reemerge on a bed of dry leaves in front of her parent’s home. Blohmrik the blue fox was seated in front of her, observing a shadowy form at a distance in front of them.

— Is that the Forgotten One we will help?
— Yes.
— Why do you need me? You could help her, couldn’t you?
— She wouldn’t see me, Forgotten Ones are usually obsessed by a few people, those who they feel can remember them, and don’t usually see other people. Their perception is quite different than ours.
— Hang on a minute… Why do you think she will see me?

Mævel looked into the eyes of the fox, and she knew.

— We are linked.

It was more an affirmation than a question.
Mævel wondered who that shadowy figure was. When she focused on her, the form was getting more solid, and she could catch glimpses of how she looked like. And she was surprised. She was about her age, with long blond hair as hers.
Mævel’s voice was broken:
— My parents had told me I was about to die when I was a baby, then by a sort of miracle, I became healthy… Was that true?… I mean… Was that a gentle way of telling me that I had a twin who died or…
— No, Mæ. She is not you. She is not linked to you by blood. You can talk to her, she will listen to you.

So Mævel went to see the shadowy figure. She had stopped wandering and trying to find an opening around the house, for there were none for spirits: all openings were locked by stripes of red cloth hung onto the doors and windows.
Mævel felt the pain of the Forgotten One as she approached her.

— Who are you? she suddenly asked Mævel, raising her head at her approach.
— I am Mævel.
— Mævel… It means marvel of Maÿ… I was born in Maÿ…
— What are you doing here?
— This is my parents’ home.
— How is that possible?
— Twenty one year ago, I was taken away from them, given to Shaint Lejüs in place of a fairy princess. But Shaint Lejüs was no fool, he had sent his apprentice to spy on the fairy king.
— Blohmrik?!
— Yes, Blohmrik… But Blohmrik disobeyed the Elder God, and when he saw the exchange that was about to happen, he let it happen. He wanted to protect the fairy princess from his master. Because Shaint Lejüs wanted the princess as a bride. Ahahaha, how disappointed Lejüs was when he saw that I could not perform the most basic magic spells. I was good at nothing, so he let me go wandering into his Realm. He’d just thought the half-fairy princess had inherited no magic from her father.
— How do you know all that?

— I told her, the blue fox said. I was hoping to bring her relief. But she started to look for her parents, and Lejüs discovered the truth… Because she was not looking for a fairy king. She was heading here, year after year.
— That’s the reason of your curse, is it?
— Yes. She can’t see me because I was Forgotten too, in that form of a blue fox. But as Forgotten Ones don’t forget, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t tell her, because she couldn’t see me.
— So, I am that fairy princess you are talking about… that strange idea was starting to dawn on Mævel.
— Yes. When Lejüs discovered who you were, he wasn’t interested in you any longer, because he thought your magical potential had been irremediably damaged by all those years spent in human company.

— Who are you talking to? the shadowy figure asked, bemused.
— Blohmrik, he is here. But it’s untrue, Mævel said, there is magic in me.
— Yes there is, answered the blue fox, and you can undo what has been done with it.

Mævel remembered the useless key she had manifested when she had tried to go out of her human parents’ house. She had not even looked at it closely.

— You can manifest it again Mæ, said the fox. It is with you. You are its lock.

And no sooner had Mævel thought of the big rusted key, than it appeared in her hand again. But this time the rust on it was crackled, and it started to disintegrate, and a brilliant shiny metal started to show beneath it.

Scratching what was left of the rust, Mævel started to look at the beautiful key, it was shaped as a musical note, and it had some word written on it, in an ancient language she didn’t know how to read. But she knew the sound when she ran her finger on the surface of the word.

« Araoni »

That was her. She was remembering, and everything started to change.

The wedding of the God Blohmrik, son of Mirÿnda, Goddess of Mirth and of Bälias, God of the Sparkles with Araoni, daughter of the Fairy Queen Theÿa and the Fairy King Aldurion was pronounced on a bright day of Maÿ, in a beautiful orchard in the presence of Araoni’s human parents and sisters and brothers.

Even Lejüs had been invited, even though he would have preferred to be Forgotten…

And so my story ends… said Captain Bone to Tomkin.

— And was the shadow remembered by her true parents? had asked Tomkin.
— Oh, yes she was… Of course. She just didn’t want to steal the limelight from Mævel, you see. Her parents were happy of course to find back their true daughter.
— You didn’t tell me the name of the true daughter, did you?
— No, I didn’t, said Captain Bone with a wink.

Malvina tried to concentrate on the opalescent glubolín, to locate her Sisters.

But that was perhaps too early, because she could feel them close enough, but not focused yet.
Instead of communicating directly with their focused attention, she was getting images in the glubolín, that seemed related to them, but not necessarily directly. Something like an overlapping of different aspects.

Oörlaith was very close, and she could make out her surrounding. Malvina could briefly see her discussing with a man and a black dog. She had known that man… But then the image dissipated…

A sparkling shore, a black and white bird and pirates talking with a boy… the little boy had a buntifluën in his possession; how strange, Malvina thought, how could he?
Then the shore changed, she could see herself in a unfamiliar environment of sands, she was wearing a blue shawl and teaching a young impetuous woman, on how to change her features as easily as molding a sand castle. The young woman had just grown cat whiskers for a split second, and was giggling at her first success. How strange again thought Malvina, this simple act had sounded like a feat of importance in that bizarre environment, while it is rather easy to accomplish…
Images flying again, she tried to concentrate on Roselÿn.

But Roselÿn was perplexing. Malvina did not manage to connect directly to her environment, but could catch glimpses of a flying plump woman in a black and white attire, and she knew at once it was Roselÿn — though not the Roselÿn she knew. Roselÿn the Sorceress was a tall elegant dark-haired woman, but both women emanated the same joyful and loving energy. Flying Plump Roselÿn was with a little giggling girl, and giggling girl was adventurous… How interesting…

Something drew her out of her rêverie. Guests had arrived it seemed, she could hear Leörmn calling for her. She was excited at the perspective of visitors, especially at the perspective of meeting the young one who had found the sabulmantium, as she was feeling that her presence now was purposeful for them all.

In searching for a sheet of paper to do some sketches of images going through his mind, Bill found an old poem he had started a long time ago, when he was feeling like he was completely transforming himself. He had not finished the poem, but had kept it all along…

It said:

I’ve been wandering through the valleys of death
Where time knows no ending and all is gray
And shadows seek nothing but oblivion itself
In mazes of mist, minds’ errands led astray…

Perhaps it was time to let go of useless things, Bill thought to himself.

He watched the paper slowly smoldering and shrinking and falling to black and white cinders into the hearth.

Before going to sleep that night, Quintin had the sensation of Janice’s presence. He was surprised, because she was no longer the little girl he had seen at times, but she was a very pretty young woman, with dark wavy hair.

She had giggled at his surprise, telling him that yes, she was catching up with him…

The City, year 2255

Today was Janice’s birthday, but not her birthday as the Ancients, two and half a century from her time, would have counted it. It was counted from the time of the conception, as the future parents in this time were fully aware of the agreements they would have with the soul they would decide to give birth to.

It was a reminder of this agreement between the parents and the child that was celebrated, and not the actual birth date.

Janice had felt Cyprus’ presence quite strongly, and she decided to let herself open to the subjective communication. She was conversing with her friend Qixi, and sent her some energy to let her know she would probably remove her attention for a few moments, knowing she would be accepting.

When she closed her eyes, she could immediately feel herself engulfed by the strong yet smooth energy of Cyprus; it was like being kissed by a swarm of blue sparkling butterflies.

Then she opened her eyes.

She was in an ancient classroom, with Cyprus focused as a teacher figure. Cyprus was seated behind her desk and came at once to great Janice.

— Good morning!
— Good morning Cyprus, you wanted to say something to me?
— In actuality, you wanted me to tell you something, answered Cyprus with a mysterious smile.
— Yes, I thought so. Is it about what I am choosing to do as an activity?
— Correct.
— You are aware that I want to be creating of worlds, and give them to people that would have commissioned them…
— Yes, I am aware. And you wanted me to highlight some misconceptions about that.
— Oh, misconceptions?
— Yes. As you know, with these worlds that you create, you have infinite potential of explorations. You also know that they are not independent from the rest, even when you take great care of encapsulating them in an energy field. And as such, they are not cut-off from yourself, as soon as you deliver them.
— It feels like a tremendous responsibility.
— It is, and it is not. The responsibility is to yourself, as always. But, I wanted you to be aware that you hold some responsibility, to examine your own injections into these worlds that you create, so that you can be neutralizing what is not desired, and not merely hiding it deeper inside the world itself.
— OK, I will do that…
— Ahaha, there is another thing, my dear.
— Oooh…
— You also wanted me to make sure you understood what I meant.
— Ahahaha, I see. Wiggling out won’t be as easy as I thought, Janice said with a smile. So, is it the reason for this classroom?
— Nothing is hidden from you, as always.

So Janice took a look at the sheet of paper on top of her own school desk.

— I’ll be around if you need me, reassured Cyprus.
— Thank you, said Janice

The paper was like a spot test, with a few questions on it.

Study on a Few Contradictory Beliefs

1. GUILT

a. An old lord has lost contact with his son, because of harsh things said in the past.

Write a short story about him realizing how guilt is not effective, and how past can be changed from the point of present by direct action.

b. Detail the main beliefs you can see associated with this action of guilt.

2. FEAR

a. A man chooses to be disengaging by drowning in a river. During his transition, he faces his fears, helped in that by a friendly spirit. The fears take the forms of a forest of trees, all similar, with branches and malicious roots extending to him. In his previous life, the man thought he was a fool, as an excuse to stand out of the numb crowd. But now he faces this crowd again, only to be able to go on his journey and let go.

Write a short paragraph about his journey. Place yourself from the perspective of both him and the friendly spirit guiding him through his fears, and see how he helps himself in realizing he does not need to push the fears away, and that they can disappear easily.

b. Detail the beliefs associated with his madness, that he needs to let go of in order to be crossing the forest, and go to the Bridge of Daffoldils that leads to his cave of Self.

DUPLICITY

In association with the last two examples, detail how duplicity (belief in good versus bad) is influencing of each of the actions, and can be neutralised by accepting self and trusting that you shall not betray yourself.

Janice gave her paper to Cyprus, who took it and held it for a moment, evaluating the answers.

Cyprus then made it burst into a bluish dancing flame, and when the paper had disappeared, smiled at Janice lovingly.