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  • #1997

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      A cloud-assisted demented rewrite, just for fun…

      PERPLEXED BY THAT PARTICULAR case, THE sheriff HAD HIS glassES floatING BEFORE HIS eyeS.

      SOME mean rather weird beings… THE brotherHOOD OF magic NEEDED TO SEND Elikozoe INTO A space Craft TO CARE FOR THE boy WHO felt six motherSHIPS COMING IN HIS dreams.

      DURING THESE moments easily FORGOTTEN, SOME others young legends WERE sent Aside TO answer AND bounce WITH alone aspects THAT wondered HOW TO keep focused.

      THE trees WERE laughing “yeah!” THEY SAID, AS Anita FELT cold AMONG THE roseS randomLY SCATTERED.
      SOME told HER ABOUT love, AS SHE asked WHETHER dragons REALLY seemed LIKE nothing ELSE SHE HAD SEEN BEFORE.

      Chris turned wondering ABOUT nature THESE days WHEN everyone, Elizabeth INCLUDED, KEPT thinking WHAT THEIR hair looked LIKE FROM behind.

      DEEP inside, SOME help began slightly TO COME TO THE lady AS SOON AS THE dark cloud HAD taken HER TO sleep. THE truth IN particular WAS LIKE A friend WITH purple COLOURS AND A skull IN HIS HAND, WHO sat WAITING FOR HER.
      “let HOPE COME, despite whatever FATE bringS TO THE door! YOU must wait SOMETIMES, AS factS follow!”

      Nice Tina WAS caught floating ON THE STREAM, AND moving ALONG IN A green jogGING GEAR WAS Joe, BOTH full OF IDEAS THAT gave THEIR friends AN experience NEWLY created. BUT THEY needed magpieS AND tried FOR THESE creatureS INSERTION TO work.

      FOR Arona, ALL WAS happening ON Earth LIKE SOME important dream. IT WAS LIKE dancing IN A real play, WITH THE sea NEARBY.
      A series OF dog-EARED BOOKS WERE NEARLY outside, AND deep INSIDE, SHE KNEW THE novelS WERE close TO surface OUR dimension, WITH HER head looking BEYOND, AS perhaps Yurick WOULD AGREE.
      HIS heart often sounds interesting, BUT OF ALL THE ones SHE liked, IT SHOULD BE herself.
      THE Duane SHALL BE rememberED, SHE thought, IN DUE times…

      WITH THE goat, Anna suddenly giveS THE blue busy spiders SOME NEW reality, AND Kay IS getting hot. SHE HAD forgotten THAT handS COULD BE making names, AND SHOUTING HER CreEd, THE voice OF THE girl SAID IT matterED THAT THE story became shouted IN THE sky.
      Eric WAS ENduring Sanso WHO loved THE sandY BEACHES.

      STAYING clear THIS NEW year DEMANDS SOME self AWARENESS, ESPECIALLY ON THE yellow CHAKRA points, TO ALLEVIATE UNNECESSARY physical pain.

      CLAD IN teal, SHE WAS waiting FOR HIS parents’ words TO HAVE moved AND TO BE connected. Franiel HAD FELT within HIMSELF four OLD fatherS’ ADVICES, AND HAD AGREED TO TALK TO Salome’S face AND ANSWER HER call THAT HAD APPEARED quickly UPON THE wall AND HAD BEEN wandering OVER HIS bed.
      HE careD FOR THE past, AND THAT VISION WAS telling. IN THE morning, HE SAW IT AS A gift, SHINING IN SOME DISTANT island, LIKE A moviNG presence.

      Yann VowED TO FIND HIS WAY IN THE soup OF linkS, AND FIND THE OLD godS’ energy THAT kept THE planetS MOVING.
      HE heard SOMETHING, A FUGACIOUS moment following HIS ADMIRING OF THE beautiful weather, UNDER THE Glistening sun. A SINGLE dragon’S hands COULD nurse POTENT writing abIlITIeS, AND soon WOULD open GREAT awareNESS OF joy AND moveMENTS AND music WHICH WOULD MAKE HIM laugh OF ALL THAT HE WAS creating WITHIN THIS focus.

      Tracy FEELS away OF THE action. IT seems QUITE human… NOTHING IS white DURING twilight, SHE noticed, AND FELT given TO understand.
      AS MRS Bellamy, SHE WOULD HAVE stopPED LONG ago, HAD NOT come THAT powerful mummy.
      WITH Georges startING TO APPEAR, worry BECOMES quietNESS FOR Jib, AND crystal-CLEARNESS FOR Sam.
      MANY years AHEAD IN A GALAXY far-AWAY, ANOTHER Dory IS named AND readS ABOUT DR Bronklehampton’s WORKS.
      HAVING TAKING leaveS, AND BEING gone FOR ALL, OLD Hrih DELVES INTO THE skulls AND HIS eyes SEE A next hope IN A book.
      MovementS HAPPEN FOR Claudio already… THE world woke UP IN surprise.
      A known sense OF TIMESPACE-travel APPEARS IN THE commentS, AS seen THROUGH light.

      Akita’S body AND mind started TO ACT LIKE A saint AND FEEL strange under THE change.
      “TO danGER, bugger!” WAS HIS decision NO longer… HE FELT warm… Towards THE worlds treeS, askING HIMSELF IF IT WAS A game, HE SAW TWO male children PLAYING against EACH OTHER.
      THEY managed TO show HIM THAT THE Murtuane WAS familiar.
      THE whole air WAS speaking. IT sort OF opened ITSELF SO THAT HE knew later OF THAT SPECIAL room OF TIME AND SPACE, AND HAD THE WIND AGAIN BRUSH HIS skin similar TO WHEN HE WAS seeing home IN HIS HEAD.

      Felicity IN THE BEDlam SAW half-formS, COUNTING three OF THEM, INCLUDING Gustav IN THE saloon, AND Becky WHO WAS THINKING SHE WAS AGAIN IN THE wrong PLACE: A monastery!
      SHE’D RATHER HAVE yourself BE A star, AND HERSELF BE HERE TO MAKE THE FUN postS AND playing lost.

      Eight powers smiled: true saying!
      THE sisters focuses IN THEIR caveS HAD SOME fine land TO PLAY WITH.
      Apparently sound WAS key once, BUT THE VOICES IN THE night speak UNCEASINGLY, AND TO write SOME great stories, SPEAK strongLY. THEY seem TO BE feeling yesterday SOME perfect movements…

      THE marmoset HAD FOUND A family, AND funny wordS TO process. IT laughed short GIGGLES
      AS FOR myself, SAID THE cat TO Floyd, I’D create A party-LIKE life, WHERE I DO AS I please, AND LET paper WORK AND feelINGS AND desireS AND tryING AND tellING TO monkey.
      THAT shapeD SOME fun, AND syncHRONICITIES AGAIN happened SHORTLY.

      IN THE FLOWING water, “aum” SOUNDS RIPPLED IN A huge dear dance beginning TO REFLECT himself IN images. HE sighed AS HIS attention GOT INVOLVED IN THE trip AND HE remembered…
      ON THE beach, obviously AWARE OF THE synchRONICITIES, THE creatures wanted TO CLAP THUNDEROUS applauseS.
      LIVING THE dead GUYS’ ideaS…

      #1631

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      Jib
      Participant

        And a new sync with your last comment Tracy :D

        Yesterday evening a friend came home and he had an interview in London today… in English and Avram asked for the English name of “perroquet” which is parrot :))

        #1625

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Woot! Fantastic synchs Francie (ahaha, and trying to write “!!” on the mac keyboard, it keeps writing “88” instead :D ) – not minding the order at all

          Another one that you did not mention, related to the website of Ray Caesar: an octopus mermaid ( see comment )

          And, tonight, while dreaming, I had impressions of a character/essence named Raya (based on the first letters of our essence names), in a white toga, radiating peace and wisdom… perhaps an Olmec priestess, among other focuses…

          On a side-note, there is a very popular 3D software named Maya, and Maya is a favorite focus name for Awan/Dawn, and yesterday, I came across a movie named Rescue Dawn in the TV program.
          A funny one is that there is a character named Spook in that movie played by a Toby (Huss)… And it’s a spin-off from “Little Dieter needs to Fly”… mmm does that account for a “fly” sync?

          #651
          Jib
          Participant

            Everybody was talking about this new yellow flying car… and one of Sam’s friends had now got one at the “shop”.
            This was the new buzz in the city, making things go so fast and easy… better than the gondolas, really , some were saying.
            But for Sam it was all the same… teleportation would really suit him better :p

            For now, his friend was coming, he had called Sam and asked him to let his window open so he could park his new car next to it and enter directly in the apartment. So much fuss about it.

            #1623

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            Jib
            Participant

              Ok, let’s add some more synchs then :)

              When I wrote comment 508 in Malvina’s story, it was not specifically about skulls… but I recall the strong attraction I had toward the word “moaning” when Jarvis took his head in his hands… I didn’t write it down though but it was the meaning of it. That’s for the picture of the Skull in Dusky Moana :p

              Yesterday, I had the impression of Sam also… after the unexpected visit of a friend who’s going to London today, I had the desire to write a comment about Sam receiving that visit, and this desire was coming over and over, along with the desire to write a comment about Andrimiñ… but I couldn’t find how to shape them. So I’m letting that go for now.

              Well now, for you Francie, here is the flyman picture :D

              How is it? Well don’t look at the framing of the pic and other details :))

              And looking at the diamond skull, it really could have been in the latest Madonna concert :))))

              #648
              Jib
              Participant

                As soon as Anadron noticed the signal, he sent an energy thread to his friend Goldarny. The whole community was buzzing in the collective innernet of Asaris, the signal couldn’t have been clearer. It was one of the legendary devices sent to this world a few centuries ago. There were originally 9 of them. One had been broken or “lost”. The eight other devices had been silent for many years, and the Asarisi had thought the knowledge of these devices had been lost by the inhabitants.

                Among many collective threads and more private ones, Anadron and Goldarny were exchanging energy.

                The device had been lost for so many years that the Council had suspended the explorations to this world many years ago. Following the Salitre Massacre, their policy was if they were not contacted first they would not interfere. One of the eight remaining skulls had been almost activated for communication. Not quite yet. So they would not send anyone.

                Both friends were thinking the same thing. Andrimiñ was currently away in another dimension, one with many portals… could he loose his way home? They were both quite novice at these explorations and they were indeed curious, very curious.

                :fleuron:

                What was considered a green star was shining upon the land of Nerumyil, giving the purple sand of the beaches some shimmering magpie shades. Falghrus had been observing the human since one of the Daughters of the Sea had brought him here. He couldn’t see any reason for her action… The Zentauras were discrete and respectful creatures… mostly respectful of one’s position in the society, and Falghrus was not one of the few Ambassadors of his People. Interfering would have been very misplaced. All he could do was send a magpie to alert the Council, and it would decide the right thing to do.

                One of his first reactions would have been to kill the man. None of them was allowed in this territory. Nerumyil had been hidden to their perception long ago. If that creature of the Sea hadn’t brought him here, he could never have reached the beach on his own. He had respected his position until now, though he had tried to dissuade the man to stay longer with his mental abilities. He was one of the Gatherer, but he had a few skills that he could have developed if he had chosen the path of a Healer.

                But that creature again had warned him, almost breaking the rule. The man was under her protection.
                The beach was a neutral territory. Between the Land and the Sea, no soul should be harmed. This was usually respected between the Zentauras and the People of the Sea. The humans were not part of this rule. And Falghrus had them in particular distaste.

                This one seemed quite weak. He would have helped him end his suffering without the protection she had decided to accord to him so graciously. But he won’t stop his observation… he would find a way.

                #645

                As soon as she’d come back from her trip, Dory had planned to travel again very soon.
                Of course, she had enjoyed tremendously being home, being with Dan and young Becky… yes, she had… the first day for sure…
                Well… She was a born wanderer, she couldn’t do against her own nature, no need to beat herself for that, and feel guilty for leaving Dan and Becky periodically. Hopefully, Becky was very understanding, and perhaps that the fact that Dory was her stepmother made things easier for them both, without burdening their relationship with useless obligations towards one another.

                On the other side, many exciting destinations were on her list, and she barely knew where to start. One that had attracted her curiosity was the site of Jiroft in Iran, where the famed lost Kingdom of Aratta had been supposedly found very recently. Artifacts had been discovered on this site, predating our commonly supposed invention date of written language, which had fascinated Dory for a while, before she got lost amidst the wide spectrum of her other interests.

                Well, all of this was of frenzying interest, but there were dogs and back issues…
                Somehow, Dory had been struggling with lots of tensions in her back, and the more she forced herself moving, the worse the pain was. Finally beaten by herself, when no one else, friend, family or doctor could accomplish such a feat, she was stuck to a cushioned armchair for most of the day holding to her pain as to a stuck parasitic hated friend.
                And then, there was the dogs.
                As she was barely able to move, Dan had renounced to have her come with him and Becky to see Sabine, Becky’s mother, in Mallorca, where she had invited them for the Epiphany.
                Secretly, Dory was happy to have to stay at home, and not to have to make pleasing faces to the horrid obsessive woman she could only stand a few minutes without having to go out and empty a whole pack of cigarettes to calm her down.
                The only little drawback was that she had to take care of the dogs… And she was running short of dog’s food…

                Before leaving, Dan had left her a phone number of their new neighbours, a batty couple of Brits who had just rented the farm nearby, and with whom Dan was occasionally playing golf and lending a hand in small DIY work.
                Reluctantly, Dory took the post-it and smiled at the familiar handwriting of Dan

                BEATTIE & LEONORA FLETCHER : 933-157-821

                She composed the number in a deliberate slow motion, which strangely felt very empowering.

                — Hello! a quavering male voice answered
                — Err… Mr Fletcher?
                — Ms Fletcher,… herself, what can I do for you?
                — I’m Dorothy Mc Leane, one of your neighbour, you probably know my…
                — Oh, yes! Dorothy, may I call you Dorothy, Dan spoke of you so much that we were very eager to meet you, weren’t we Leo?

                A ruffling sound behind Beattie Fletcher seemed to approve.

                — And is there anything we could do for you?
                — Well, I’m awfully embarrassed to have to ask you, but I’m stuck at home, and my dogs don’t have much food left…
                — Oh my dear! You did so very well to call us, didn’t she Leo? We’ll be at your home in a few minutes!
                — But…
                — Oh, no need to thank us for that, it’s all natural, after all that your delightful husband did for us! We see you in a moment…

                And with that the line was cut. Dory was a bit disconcerted by the strange couple, but decided to dance with what was coming to her doorstep (wishing it would not be flamenco), seeing that having placed these quaint people in her reality could not entirely be a stroke of wild madness… If only…

                #635
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Elizabeth Tattler gasped and clutched the right side of her chest. For a moment she wondered if the sharp pain she felt was a heart attack, and was greatly relieved when she realised it was located on the other side of her chest. After some investigation of her cluttered desk, she realised she must have fallen asleep on the pyramid shaped pencil sharpener her friend Yannie P had given her for her last birthday. It was made of fake blue diamond and was really rather beautiful; she could see thousands of suspended dust particles in it’s reflected light. But it was damn sharp! A thought flashed through her head, was the gift really a cunning plot to murder her? She shook her head at her own absurdity, anyway, fortunately the five layers of Angora-Mongoat wool jerseys she was wearing had protected her from more serious injury.

                  She could not help but notice how the consistently the quote of the day seemed so in tune with her moods. It was almost uncanny:

                  Bugger your feelings~ Tobipooh

                  Damn right! If she listened to her feelings she would go home and sleep for a week. No time for that, no time for a nana nap even! She had a novel to write.

                  #631

                  Kay, what do you reckon? Is it any good?

                  Kay had no doubt the marmoset wasn’t actually a marmoset. Being safe wasn’t much of an issue for a spirit dog, for as long as his symbiotic human friend would himself be safe. If that marmoset was actually a hint of another human presence on this accursed island, as Kay believed it was, it would mean that the island wasn’t as separate from the outside as it seemed. Someone had crossed the barriers… He had to find who, and why.

                  I suppose it is safe enough, Yikes. I’ve made my decision. We’ll bring that individual to the HQ. Keep the mummy in check, but don’t brutalize it. It may prove useful… — At your beck and call, Kay! answered Robert X. The magpie named “Robert K”, codename Kay, started to morph into a boar, and very delicately lifted the mummy with its powerful snout until it was safely resting on its back, and started to go deeper into the woods, followed by the other magpies.

                  :fleuron:

                  #1609

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    funny synch today at lunch, i was out with a friend. We got table number :calendar: so I thought of Jib, and then the people at the next table got 23 .. (I guess Tracy you were too busy conferencing to attend lunch :yahoo_phbbt:). Then someone sneezed really loudly so I thought of my conversation about sneezing with Jib and the Holy Water, then Love Potion Number 9 started playing. :yahoo_oh_go_on:

                    Eric Lemoine: we can make some commerce of pure distilled Ephy bottled love, we could call that … mmm Love n° 5

                    #1994

                    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      loved strong :heart:dear dimension :face-devil-grin:
                      town eyes :yahoo_skull:
                      weird images :mummy:
                      cave surface :magnify:
                      writing focuses :notepad:
                      swing dear:bounce:
                      often speaking:yahoo_not_listening:
                      night dream bugger :yahoo_devil:
                      strange writing :news:
                      rather taken :yahoo_heehee:
                      friend matter :yahoo_big_hug:
                      change :yahoo_doh:
                      love woke :yahoo_sick:

                      #624

                      Instantly Elizabeth regretted her spikey, voodish behaviour and scrambled to retrieve the telepooh. Her mother was Vood by nature, a particularly dysfunctional personality type, and Elizabeth had struggled all her life to avoid similar behavioural patterns. Her friends, and certainly her ex-husbands, would say perhaps with only partial success.

                      Apologies Bronkel, I was engrossed in my writing. How can I help you?

                      Bronkel appeared to be covered in bandages from what she could see of his upper torso, giving him the appearance of a rather odd mummy like creature. He was constantly searching for new beauty treatments to extend his youthful goodlooks, however at 167 years more and more desperate measures were being called for.

                      Elizabeth! Thank God, Where in Flork’s name have you been? he shouted at her. His pudgy, prouty little face was scrunched in peevish vexation. I can’t talk for long, I am on the Island for a month and the connection is flork. Where in the name of Fock is the story you promised me?

                      She could not find the words to reply to Bronkel. I wonder if I am mindblown? she mused. She had read of this horrible phenomenon, and seen the sad pictures of those thus afflicted. Poor wandering creatures, strange erratic behaviour, always travelling, always seeking. But for what? Hell on Dearth indeed. She shuddered.

                      It is getting urgent you know, spluttered Bronkel. Every day I am reading of new treatment centers opening for those undergoing crisis due to the prolonged absence of the Fickle Four in their lives.

                      She sighed, Pull yourself together Elizabeth, her bloodshot and tired eyes were drawn to the planetary horrorscope on the monthly calendar. Todays “Words of Comfort for the Descending” quotation was from the famous philosopher Lemone. She particularly loved Lemone’s ideas. Many considered him a nutter, a few thought he was a genius ahead of his time. For herself, she did not really know, only that his profoundly beautiful words offered a kind of solace or balm to her tortured soul at times such as this :

                      Sometimes it takes a single sniggly thorny path to go through to reach Elysian avenues much more efficiently ~ Lemone

                      Absolutely fantastic Bronkel, I think this is going to be the best novel yet! My God what an effort it took to say that, but for some reason Bronkel appeared to believe her and began to calm. Thank you Lemone, I could kiss you! she breathed an inward sigh of relief.

                      Poke its eyes out! screeched Robert X exuberantly.

                      A sniggly thorny path indeed, she thought, hanging up on Bronkel. She had fun using him and his island getaway for inspiration in her last novel. Fun, what happened to the fun? Is this what descended beings do, sit around in a dank, dusty office writing trashy novels?

                      She began nervously smoothing out pieces of paper and tried to decipher the scribbled notes; …big soup party …..pointy teeth like cannibals…..tribal wedding ….

                      Elizabeth put her head in her hands and groaned in abject despair. Twelve of the twenty mongoats fainted at the fearful sound.

                      #623
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        Elizabeth Tattler stared morosely at her screen. Her long hair, formerly her crowning glory was wild and matted, small bald patches had formed where she had begun to habitually pull at it. Her beautiful violet eyes for which she was famous were bloodshot from weariness.

                        Ms Tattler was known planet wide for her series of children’s books “The Fickle Four”. The exploits of Almad, Tinigrump, Samnuf and Bekipo were beloved by children of all ages and planetary connections, although perhaps most endearing to those of the Fumari dimension who had a natural disposition for exploits of such fickleness. The catchprase “Bit rude Tinigrump”, and “Madder than Almad” had become part of the national vocabulary in recent years.

                        Formerly Ms Tattler had written, with limited success, novels of a more adult nature, drawing on her numerous marriages for creative inspiration. However her publisher had asked her to create a series about four friends who were on a mission to create other worlds, the focus being on “providing positive and fun role models” for children growing up in these difficult times of planetary upheaval. The works were in the science freakshow genre of writing and the popularity of the original novel had been unprecedented, taking Elizabeth and her publisher by surprise and leading for the demand for many more.

                        Ah, she sighed, and then spluttered as she inhaled the dusty, smoky air, but what a noose this has created. Her yellow nicobeck stained fingers touched her neck and then ran agitatedly through her hair. For at some point, when did it start? the story had begun to take a life of its own. She no longer felt in control as plots became more and more bizarre. She felt unable to follow anything through, creating endless threads which seemed to lead nowhere. She looked around her small office, everywhere was the evidence of stories started and discarded, screwed up pieces of paper covered in frenetic doodles littering the floor.

                        The telepooh began to buzz. She knew it was Bronkel her publisher before his face came up on the screen.

                        I know you are there Elizabeth. Will you pick up please!

                        In a fit of rage Elizabeth picked up the telepooh and threw it across the room, where it narrowly missed Lana, one of her 20 fainting Mongoats she kept as pets. Lana fainted for a few seconds in fear and Robert X, her pet Magpie, hopped around delightedly, Bugger the telepooh, Bugger the telepooh! he screeched. Poke its eyes out! Poke its eyes out.

                        #621
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          “Hang on a minute” he shouted to his friends as soon as they were out of the grocery store, burden with the loads of the bags.
                          Molly, Harvey and Francis looked puzzled at their foreign friend.
                          Then with a shrug, Harvey sat on a pile of snow that had fallen from the roof, and leaned against one of the pillars of the square place dimly lit by a buzzing orange light.

                          He run to the chalet on the left, which was apparently closed, but he knew there would probably be someone in there.
                          He opened the creaking door, not startled by the bells tinkling at his left ear, and went straight to the counter, as though he had always known the place. A young man with a goatee was there, busy sorting old papers for the annual closing of the hostel.

                          — Do you have a glass of water please? the stranger asked
                          — Oh yes, sure… And with that?

                          The man seemed to expect an answer… The stranger felt as if he knew that answer…

                          — Yes… one of your… you know… chocolate things, with the wolf on it.
                          — Exactly! the tenant was smiling.

                          The stranger fumbled in his pocket, not having thought of requiring any money for a glass of water. But now…
                          Phew, there was a coin in his left pocket. He drew it out, looked at it… A 3 euros coin? He didn’t know such a currency existed…

                          — Oh, I won’t have the change I fear, the man answered… But I can make you a credit memo.

                          He had no idea he would come back here soon, but the familiar place as much as the obliging man made him think that anything would be okay. At worse, he would have lost a few euros, which was no big loss.

                          — Sure.

                          The man showed him a red ticket, and leaning on the counter, proceeded with some explanations.

                          — This is your credit memo. Additionally, as the hostel won’t be fully rented, you can use this as a reservation for next week. It’s for Mr Arkandin. You will be able to enter the special exhibit and join the guided tour. It’s a laying down travel. People are expected to go nowhere, yet they will travel. Pillows and blankets will be provided.

                          He had a strange image in his mind of people laying on their backs and gliding on the floor in patterns leaving some tracks on the ground with various colours.

                          — It is supposed to show people some beliefs about monogamy. And keeping track of their own travels…

                          That was most puzzling… He wasn’t sure he would still be here next week, but that sounded intriguing enough to not be thrown in the bin right away…
                          He thanked the man after having had his glass of water and putting the wolf-brand candy and red square of paper in his pocket.

                          — There you are, sighed Molly, and what have taken you so long?

                          #617
                          Jib
                          Participant

                            The TV was on and the show was giving Sidonie the impression of a presence in the room with her. She didn’t like to be alone, she didn’t really like the sound of silence. She’d always be alone in her life, not really much friends, not really much colleagues… her parents always abroad, and her with the nanny… always in another room…

                            Well she was exagerating a bit her loneliness but she was in a victim mood currently… imagining all her life alone was giving her a sense of tragedy, enhancing some depth in her life she was currently lacking. Tonio was at work today and she was feeling lonely… maybe she would take a pet. She’d heard of a new shop in the city, a shop of pet rental :-?

                            Let’s have a look at that shop

                            #1993

                            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              Next thought focused:
                              Experience sky
                              Given love, lady mother,
                              Far laughing bed friends;
                              Fine earth;
                              Skin.

                              #612

                              It’d been two hexades that the Abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee had been laying in bed in poor condition.
                              At first, he had wanted to be as strong as he had always been towards hardships, but he’d finally admitted that quelching the pain wasn’t doing any good to him. So he had agreed to be taken care of by a young monk, and to lay in bed as long as was necessary.
                              He knew that he was very likely not to get out of that bed but with his body covered by a white sheet, nevertheless, the thought was still something distant. The pain in his body was making him so present to himself that the only thing that was still blatant was that he was.
                              More than the body, it was all his faith that was shaken. He had thought he would leave this life without mess, without pain, probably very discreetly in his sleep… But now, his head was wincing at every noise, even the nature’s sounds that once felt like music to his ears, he was eschewing them now as much as he could. His very skin was hot and couldn’t bear even the soft contact of the bedsheets.
                              What was the point of all of this? He had never doubted that everything had its purpose, but now, he was doubting…
                              He was even trying to find some reasonable reasons for what was happening, he who never trusted in reasonable reasons in the first place. Perhaps that was because of his seating under the chilly air and the warm sun in front of the Meditation Wall, reading for all of the poems that had been written by the monks who had dared to write. Perhaps he had “taken cold”, whatever that means…
                              “Perhaps not” the voice kept saying softly in his head.

                              Now, his whole succession was feeling like a moot point. After all, he was not even capable of saving himself from anything, then how could what he created make the slightest difference? These were all like an extension of his body, bound to decay and come back to Earths.

                              Not so many monks had dared write upon the Wall about their highest truth. A few jokesters had begun at first, helping the others to participate.
                              One in particular had had Hrih laugh for quite a while.

                              A toad is a toad
                              Unless kissed
                              Endless Bliss

                              Then a dozen of others had flourished upon the wall, until Aum Geong decided to write his own. He’d not wanted to go first, to allow the others to express without the burden of comparison, and also to have some more time to write something deep and thoughtful. But that profusion of nonsense between some occasional pearls of wisdom made him write his own.

                              Unattainable is the Truth
                              For in the Dust of things
                              All in our View is bleak

                              Doing Wrong we forswear
                              For Dust to be lifted
                              And Wisdom we seek

                              In the deed of the Elders
                              And the Faith in the Community
                              Light and Trust bespeak

                              All the monks had been quite impressed, but Hrih had not been entirely satisfied by it… To be honest, he even completely disagreed with it.
                              Now, however, stuck in this bed, the poem was playing in his head and suggesting that the Worlds were something terrible that he had not yet understood, or be willing to avoid seeing. Perhaps Aum Geong was wiser than he was.
                              Perhaps all that Hrih had put as foundational to his life had all been Dust…
                              “There is no Dust, and you know that” the voice whispered softly.

                              Now that he is about to die, what difference will it make anyway…
                              He reach out for a bowl of water, and almost let it fall, as the weight of it surprised him. He was becoming so weak… He never had been so self-conscious in many many many years.

                              After he had propped himself up to drink a few burning swallows of the lukewarm water, he noticed something folded on his bedside, that had been put under the bowl… Young Franiel had been the one attending him with Jog Lam, so it must have been the doing of one of them. He intuited that was Franiel.

                              As he read the stanzas, tears were in his eyes…

                              I am the driftwood
                              the wave carried me
                              I was buried in sand

                              I am the flower
                              the butterfly touched me
                              I fell in love

                              I am the raindrop
                              the cloud released me
                              I became the ocean

                              The Young monk had probably not dared write it on the Wall, especially after most of the monks’ vocal appreciations of Aum Geong’s poem…
                              “Perhaps not” the voice again spoke.
                              Another reason for it formed into Hrih’s mind. Franiel perhaps didn’t feel ready for such responsibilities and his role and fulfillment in this community was not form rules nor to continue it.
                              It was more to inspire them, and perhaps to start his own discoveries.

                              Hrih wrote a note behind the paper. He wanted to leave something for Franiel, for him to keep faith in his coming adventures during these coming times of change.
                              After a deep breath, he took another paper that was with him for already such a long time, wrote down some words, and signed it, the aura of his hand burning a glyph that was his signature in the paper. He then called for Jog Lam.

                              — Jog Lam, my friend…
                              — Elder?
                              — I’m dying…
                              — I know Elder
                              — Let me continue. (Jog Lam nodded)
                              First, will you give that paper to Young Franiel after the cremation ceremonies. (Jog Lam nodded again)
                              Second, I want you to relay that I have made my decision, and that Aum Geog will succeed me (Jog Lam’s surprise was noticeable in his eye). He is, to date, the most adequate successor for this monastery.
                              — I will do as you want.
                              — Thank you my friend.
                              — Elder…
                              — Farewell, my friend, I am always with you.

                              When Jog Lam stoically left the room, Hrih Chokyam laid down, his eyes on the ceiling. His body was so weak that all he could do was to project behind his closed eyelids and see the starry sky, even if he would have wanted something different for his death. He would have loved something like a nap in a sunlit meadow with a little singing brook.
                              But seeing the actual World was something even more precious to him. The barren mountains of the icy season, the clear unclouded sky. His mind was so full of energy that his body lacked.

                              With a deep feeling of gratitude for his body, he bid it farewell.

                              #1599

                              In reply to: Synchronicity

                              TracyTracy
                              Participant

                                Blog friend Jib :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

                                #608

                                I can feel a human focus on this Island said the aspect of Yuki that was focused near Anita.

                                The little girl was sleeping for the moment and her dream focus, though still close to them, was not paying attention to her friends. She was entertaining herself with the dream focuses of her parents, telling them about all that she had been doing with her friends. They themselves were not yet choosing to disengage in this particular probable reality but they were in a kind of transition “place”, removed from their bodies for a lengthy time framework. They had built a similar environment to their home and were acting “as usual”.

                                It is a focus of Blöhmul that is not yet aware of our presence here though an aspect of this focus is… I feel it is not a singular focus in a way that is quite original

                                Rafaela and Armelle were merged consistently at that time and were creating a strange owly goat or a goaty owl depending on the angle of aspect you were looking at or from.

                                Yes it is quite a messy focus, it is generating of new ways of explorations… I’m exploring it from now on said the goaty owl / owly goat.

                                The energy was moving and creating new connections. That focus and Anita were already connecting to each other, a strong thread of energy had been attracting them to each other… The four essences began to move in a facilitating of this attraction, merging together in a marmoset, close to the “binary” focus… Surely the dog like aspect of this focus would be intrigued by the marmoset and would want to follow it… to the little Anita.

                                #607
                                Jib
                                Participant

                                  The blue phone rang with a joyful tinckling sound. Sam knew it was Tina, he was connecting with her and fussing the communication a bit… it was like she was tickling him through his yellow energy center and when he picked up the phone he was having difficulties not laughing loud.

                                  “Hey Tina I’m glad you got the energy…”

                                  “Well, I can’t say it was very clear… you can do better, she said matter-of-factly. I was hesitating between you having epilepsy or you being attacked by an ant colony…”

                                  “Hehehe, well I have not yet a clear idea about what I want to do… I just feel it could be great to gather friends in a big soup party.”

                                  “Mmmm, I don’t like soup. Can I bring my raft to float upon? I’ll render it soupproof.”

                                  “Hahaha, yes you can bring whatever suits you. I’m wondering if you’d enjoy some cheesy garlands?”

                                  Tina snorted thoughtfully.

                                  “As long as the smell doesn’t stick to our clothes or our energy… Is there such thing as a smelly energy?”

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