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  • #1619

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    Jib
    Participant

      Hehehe another synch :D
      I forgot to tell that yesterday morning going to do a presentation I noticed a car with a licence plate like 8283 and I just had the idea that it was 23 with two 8 like bubbles or cushions :-?

      And yesterday evening I was playing with a 3D software about body manipulations, the individuals or animals are already created and you just have to manipulate the bodies to create the attitude or movement you desire… and I had created a man fumbling back and I wanted to add a little fly… I added the fly but it was so huge that the man had his head inside the fly’s body :-O
      I’ll post the pic when I go back home for lunchtime. ;))

      I join my hands to this huge :yahoo_big_hug:

      #1616

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      Jib
      Participant

        Great it works now :)) earlier today it wasn’t working, error 500!!!
        and it’s 14:53 that’s again a demonstration of my great power ;))

        well a few synchs… since a few days, we are having with Eric synchs with the name Fletcher, related to Fletcher, the chief of the mutineer in the bounty…
        there is also Jessica Fletcher in a TV series, who’s a novel writer… like crime books and so on… I don’t remember the name of the series in English but it’s “Arabesque” in French. (Murder, She Wrote In English)

        well yesterday I was looking for something… I don’t remember what it was and only the synch :))
        I found that a new movie called Fletch would be created, and apparently Fletch is a series of books, about a man called Fletch , well actually Irwin Maurice Fletcher… who’s a journalist.
        What I found funny again was that the writer created a spin off of the series of books after the introduction of a character named Flynn :))

        In the first movie the actor George Wendt plays Fat Sam ;))

        Well that’s all about Fletcher.

        Going to work this morning, as we moved to a new building I took another way… and crossed a Celine Robert Street :)) and a Massue Street (massue is a club).

        I found that funny :p

        #641

        AN EXCHANGE WHICH TAKES PLACE ON THE STREETS OF LONDON DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN VICTORIA:

        ‘Ere!, I saw you take that.

        Let go of me, I didn’t do nothing.

        I aint blind and I aint stupid, lad. I saw you put your thieving hand in this ladies handbag. Now what you got?

        Nothing. Just this coin. It’s for me mam, she’s at home poorly, dying, and we aint got no food. ‘Ere, take it. it won’t happen again.

        You’re right it won’t happen again because you’ll be going to the gallows I’ll be bound. I know your face. You’re one of them Magpies. I’ve ‘ad my eye on you for some time. You’re clever at covering tracks I’ll grant you that, but not clever enough it seems.

        Look Mr Constable, I don’t know nothing about no magpies, they thieving birds aint they? It was for me poor old mam, I swear to God, if I be lying may ‘e strike me down dead.

        No more blasphemy from you. I expect the good Lord’s got better things to do than spend his time striking down lying thieves. Thing is you’ve been been caught thieving from this lady and it’s not looking too good for you right now.

        And I will thank you Ma’am for your courageous co-operation. said Constable Marshall O’Riley, turning galantly to the finely dressed woman, clutching her handbag tightly to her person. You have been victim of a heinous crime, and I would wish to trouble your gentle self no more with this matter. But I will thank you for your details and be assured I shall call upon you should we need you to give further evidence.

        No sooner had the lady gone than Constable O’Riley turned to the young thief.

        Now you listen to me carefully, young lad. I have an idea that, if you play your hand right, might save you from hanging.

        I’m listening.

        You and me is not two figures to be seen together, except for somewhere private. I want you to talk to the one what leads your little gang. I have an idea that could be of mutual benefit. I will let you go now, and you be here tomorrow same time, and I will tell you where the meeting will be held. I’ve ‘ad my eyes on your gang for quite some time, all I needed to convict you was to catch you red ‘anded, and I got that now. So If you ain’t here, I know where to find you lot, and I swear I’ll drag you in front of the magistrate. Do as I say though and we could all be laughing.

        #1615

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          I just read T’s comment in the story: one for sorrow, two for joy (Malvina's Dragon Rookery # 509). As I was out driving along the road a little bit earlier, I noticed the number plates of a couple of cars coming towards me, 157 and then 257. I particularly noticed the “1” and “2” in sequence, and mentally laughed wondering if Tracy was playing a game and what we were counting too. Shortly after that 557 passed me.

          :fleuron:

          These comments really are very funny, the way they are lining up. I was going to write another comment in the story just now, but decided it was too hot, must be the hottest day ever I thought, and then laughed at myself because it is not really that hot ( hottest day this summer though I bet ). Next thing I looked at the daily quote and it is the one where Tina says:

          “Icy” is an exaggeration of course, said Tina, “it just meant I had to put a jacket on again today”. :yahoo_oh_go_on:

          #1872
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Funny how the robber gang were all regrouping and conspiring to push the poor policeman onto the glass while my back was turned huh; all having so much fun with this focus while I lay punctured and deflated and alone BLIMEY O’RILEY where did that come from this is a very weird focus hunting exploration I must say and not one of my favourites and how do we make this one stop and can I have my lungs and ribs back in one piece now PLEASE

            :yahoo_sad: :yahoo_broken_heart: :yahoo_crying:

            #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.

              #634

              Veranassessee cursed under her breath. Her mind was working swiftly, weighing up her next actions. The Doctor was becoming a liability to the success of the project.

              iko va baba bula makuba she muttered.

              She made her decision.

              :fleuron:

              Agent V, he said. I have been expecting your call.

              Operation Spider is in danger. I need instructions.

              We can’t abort at this stage, it has gone too far. He thought for a moment. Mobilise plan B.

              One more thing you need to know, I have seen evidence of increased Magpie activity in the locality.

              He swore softly. Are you sure?

              Pretty sure, they are keeping undercover, shapeshifting, but I sense their presence.

              Bugger those thieves. I feared they would sniff this out …. keep me posted Agent V

              Will do.

              And Agent V …. good work.

              Veranassessee felt a moment’s pleasure at his unaccustomed praise, quickly fading at the tremendous racket coming from the cupboard behind her.

              :fleuron2:

              This aint bloody right Glor.

              We’ve been here for bloody hours, my lumbago’s playing up something dreadful

              ‘Ark Glor! I thought I ‘eard a noise

              oh let’s shout out, on the count of three

              #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

                #625

                The buzzing of the telepooh woke up Elizabeth with a flinch, her heart pounding in fast tremolos.

                She grumbled restlessly, her throat dry and itchy and her limbs still limp from slumber; she was in a dream, and already, she was feeling the unusual distinct clarity of the dream scenario gently fade as her attention was focusing upon the unwelcome sound which had a distorting quality of her yet poorly focused perception of her surroundings.

                The buzzing ceased abruptly. She opened an eye to see the ID of the caller, but it was not displayed. Bugger the caller
                Still feeling groggy, she was hanging to the last images of her dreams. It was telling her a story, a legend… Something full of grandeur, like a galactic opera filled with awe, drama and excitement… A renewed fount of inspiration…

                The voice of the lady who had been telling her that story was still inside her head, all she had to do was to slightly let herself drift into the numb and warm state of mind in which she was some minutes ago…

                You are tapping into a mass event. You are translating but a minute portion of it, though it seems colossal already. It is in fact so wide that it reflects in many other worlds which all live in your imagination. Bound together, they represent more books that you could write in a lifetime, more books that you and any army of ghost-writers could write in a thousand lifetimes…

                The voice was delightfully soothing, and Elizabeth was seeing herself drifting again in the blissful sleep bereft of irate publishers’ diktats. Beaming at her, Elizabeth could envision a light feminine figure with flowing dark hair illuminated by green-blue shimmers. How could she ever remember all that was said… She was plagued with such bad memory…

                Elizabeth had her dictaphoo under her pillow, ready for such sudden strokes of genius, but her mouth dried up from nicobeck wasn’t ready to spew out words that early in the morning.

                What the lady with the teal eyes had shown her was an old book of prophecies, which she had named the Last Gospel, unknown yet but which would be remembered as the mass event would be enacted again.
                The book spoke of a triad of planets, named M’si, B’si and Earth. Just before Elizabeth woke up, she had seen that Earth was in the process of been isolated from the other parts of the cosmos, for untold reason. Suddenly, she had seen one of the planets, the one named B’si, change her quality and become a “gravitational lense” altering the perception of space from the “Earth” standpoint. The planet B’si became transparent and expanded, as though it was an exploding super-nova, but nothing radiated from the planet. Only the quality of the space was modified.

                Elizabeth had the idea of a novel based upon this mass event which could be her next perfect best-seller. She reached out for her typewrooter.

                :fleuron:

                When the World was young, the Powers were roaming in a void full of possibilities.
                Initially, Three Syzygies there were. By two came the Six Powers. Three Syzygies, or couples of Light Beings, each Syzygy blessed with unlimited creative powers.

                Elizabeth pondered for a moment… She wanted to say many things at the same time, and couldn’t write them fast enough. She started to write notes haphazardly as they came to her mind.

                — Two planets for themselves to play; a planet for themselves to dwell. The planets gravitate around a sun on the same orbit. Each of the Powers possess a symbolic scepter power artifact, and each couple generates a crystal or a kind of light seed which allows them to create new sentient beings… When parted, that crystal kind of light is deactivated.
                — One planet is home of dragons, created by one of the syzygies, another is home of giant eagles; they all are lesser Powers… The third one have giant-like Light beings…

                — What made the planet B’si change its quality? What became of the Powers? (I can sense them desiring to become part of their creations, willing to forget about themselves and their powers… Punishment? Mere playfulness? Perhaps there was a coup organized by the Lesser Powers?)

                Phew… Elizabeth yawned. All she could think of now was that she wanted to go back to sleep…

                #1316

                In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  January 4 th, 2008

                  A communication about legends, to complement what Yurick had connected to during his sleep, with ties with the dimension of Alienor, and possibly counterparts within his dimension

                  Starry sky, eternal and boundless waft of dreams and legends…

                  Many if not all of the physical dimensions possess legends. Legends of their beginnings, and legends of their ends.
                  The language which legends speak is a language of symbols, and though many of the receivers of legends are prone to erect them as absolute and faithful accounts of historical soundness, they are much more mutable and protean than what may be commonly thought of them.
                  They are connections, bridges from a locus (point in time/space) drawn as a frontier between what is known of the now, in which civilizations of these worlds are thriving, and a locus which is forgotten, or beyond the commonly perceived world.
                  As such, they essentially represent boundaries.

                  And of course, boundaries are only boundaries because they serve a purpose. Much like boundaries drawn on maps are not necessarily representing actual obstacles which cannot be physically crossed. These are mere perceptive frontiers, which tie in the various developments of history and societal relationships.
                  When the civilizations, or species, as you understand them, come close to one of these perceptive boundaries, there is an interaction with the very nature of the boundary, which is receptive to the inception of volition to cross the perceptive limitation.
                  And a process of reshaping and expending the borders takes place, by means of insertion of new legends.

                  Legends, in that way of seeing things, are not necessarily old dusty accounts sung by blind bards with jovian white beards. Not quite. They are much alive. They are created and recreated in the instant where boundaries of perceptions are being tempered with. Which makes it important to notice that they are translations of much wider movements in consciousness, spanning more than the physical dimension in which they manifest.
                  Many of the legends that humanity is aware of are very similar accounts, throughout your globe. And they are also projected in other dimensional areas vibrationally close to your manifestations.

                  You are currently fiddling with the legends of your ends of times, and that is the reason why at the same time, you are starting to create new legends. Legends of new beginnings.
                  In actuality, this is done oftentimes; each time a perceptual limit is crossed and seen beyond. The only difference here would be the unprecedented span of the process which is occurring now. The point where you are standing, prodding into the interactive frontier you have come across is not a single mere frontier, but a converging point of many of tinier, shorter ones. This also creates a singularity which makes the frontier respond with a sort of inertia. In fact, it is like a wide net of fine threads, which possess altogether a high absorbing potential for small energy bumps. Nonetheless, it will give way to a vastly expanded perception, as soon as the collective energy is focused upon, and steadily moving into the direction of pushing that protective envelop.

                  That process never ends, and during that process, new legends are being remembered. For the lands beyond the frontiers exists when you are aware of it, which in retrospect also means, it is created, or inserted as you are prodding the frontier.
                  In fact, you are, as you stand before that specific nexus point, being creating new legends, in that you are evaluating the potentials that you see fluctuating as a shadow world through the layer of a soap bubble, and have them blend with legends that you know of.
                  Your very lives become the legends of these potential worlds, and thus is the importance of your being at that locus of transition. You indeed come at that point, as much for making it possible but more so, to experience the transition and alteration of the legendary landscape. You are the bridges between a future which you are creating as you remember it, and a past which contains the clues that will be seeds for your new discoveries.
                  And that is a most rewarding travel, as you will come to see…

                  #622

                  Somewhere during the 23 rd century

                  “aaa AAAA AAAAA Tcheeeew !”

                  “Hiiiiii?! Oh Fracking NOOOoooo!”

                  The shriek had been heard in the whole facility.

                  Phefia Beryl was the first on the spot where Vinya Grey had been playing so exuberantly with her vocal chords.

                  — Vinnie? Are you alright?… What just happened?
                  — Oh, Pheffy… I think I made an awful blunder…
                  — What do you mean?
                  — You know, my last experiment?
                  — The g…
                  — Yes!
                  — What?!
                  — They poofed away…
                  — Away?… You mean, all of them? Oh bugger…

                  :fleuron:

                  A few minutes later, Vinya and Phefia were around a white table sucking on straws picked into white and red polystyrenoid balls.

                  — Vinnie, you look terrible… That last geomagnetic storm had not done very good on your DNA I’m afraid.
                  — And the worse is that each time I sneeze, I blow up wormholes… I thought it would go better very quickly, but last one was big and lasted long enough to let the whole experimental herd wander off in another time/space and/or dimension…
                  — Yeah, that’s pretty bad… But wherever they went, they probably will die very soon… Imagine… With their stiff legs anytime they see something frightening, I guess a mere mapgie could easily have them for dinner…
                  — Such a pity… I was close to doing something great with them… When we discovered these fossilized blue spiders, I knew it was the first step.
                  — Bwah, this rehydrated frogrog is the grossest thing I’ve ever drunk… But yeah you’re right, the first results were very promising. The spiders venom could provoke very random and deep mutations.
                  — And all we needed was a little more control on the direction of the mutations.
                  — Anyway they’re just goats… You possibly can’t have breached a cosmic law with a handful of GOATS
                  — Hope so Pheffy, hope so…

                  :fleuron2:

                  San Demangelo, 1848

                  Elroy was laughing… Hey Joe, Twi! he shouted A letter from Uncle Ernie!

                  — Uncle Ernie? How’s the old bat doin’? asked Twilight
                  — He’s sending his greetings for the new year, and babbling about last dead people in the neighborhood. But there’s something funny. He’s saying that he’d just acquired some funny goats. Like popped in, out of nowhere. At first he’d thought of a joke, but apparently no one’s been claiming them. He’d thought them dead, they were a dozen laying stiff on the ground, but when they started to wake up, they went down again like broken dolls. Apparently the magpies on top of the tree had been scaring them. Ahaha… Where does he get such strange stories…
                  — Well, magpies are scarey, Twilight said meaningfully, with a side glance at Joe
                  — Whatever… At least he’d been giving us a good laugh. He’s saying he’s gonna breed the horny beasts, and start a Fainting Goat Fair (or FGF) in Marshall County. Perhaps we could get there next Thanksgiving…
                  — Depends when the Freak Show’s coming to town, mused Twilight, I hope to see them soon…

                  #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?

                    #619

                    Home, at last… Bernie Eleonara Mynd, Viscountess of Shropshire sighed, dropping her hairy salmon coloured hermine fur coat to the butler.
                    Now, leave me alone Vigor, I don’t want to be disturbed.
                    Madam, Vigor bowed deferentially

                    A smoking teapot of fine herb tea was prepared on the glass coffee table just near a black silk pouch. With a greedy look on her face, she untied voraciously the pouch to reveal the crystal skull she had just acquired.
                    After a few seconds of beholding the priceless possession, she lifted the teapot lid with a stiff face which eventually smiled blissfully at the smell of the fine Earl Fuchsia crop which was infusing.

                    Good Lord, that trip was exhausting!… she growled in a very deep voiced that suddenly sounded more male than before.
                    Didn’t know I had to go as far as Spain to get that darn skull!

                    Bernie suddenly ripped her fine chignon from her head, revealing a bald head with a few short black hair on the top. She spitted her false teeth, peeled off some wrinkled patches of latex skin, smeared the mascara around her globular eyes and scratched her crotch…

                    A ruffled sound and a “mmm mmm” suddenly caught her attention off the itchy body parts.

                    She went to the cupboard, drew a key dangling from a necklace deeply buried inside her ample bosom, then stopped for a moment, and muttered a “bugger” before unbuttoning her tight blouse and removing the corset that was constraining her breath.
                    Smiling wickedly, she proceeded to open the cupboard, but recoiled at a pale tied and muzzled figure who looked much similar to whoever she was impersonating.

                    Oh, Lordy, what a stench! There’s no point in making such a fuss Viscountess, this will soon be over… I just needed a few things, and will soon be off, tonight to be precise…

                    The pale figure whined with pleading eyes.

                    Oh, just don’t make these eyes at me…

                    Bugger! I can’t bother with her now, she said to herself, closing the cupboard’s door oblivious to the plaintiff whines. Now, got to move on real quick, before they realize something was wrong with the transaction.

                    :fleuron:

                    Juan had insisted that they all spent Christmas together before Paqui and Joselito went for their trip. He felt that there was more to this trip that he could grasp, and wanted to share these precious moments now, not wanting to live on regrets.
                    Now, the new year was here, and he was alone. At least, he’d been more than glad to see Claudio move out. It had all been a lot easier than he’d thought at first. Obviously, when Paquita had said to that maggot that she was going to accompany Joselito to his trip on the whachaname-Kikkoo Island, Claudio had been outraged, probably thinking a good playing victim act would soon make things right for him.
                    But he’d been wrong altogether. It was not about love for him or the other. It was all about freedom and being what she wanted. And emotional blackmail very quickly proved besides the point.
                    His father had been proud at Paquita. Her decision obviously was made, and it had been the first time he had seen the frail girl unwavering at the arguments.

                    The situation had soon proved unbearable for Claudio, who had no longer any reason for hanging around Juan and Paqui’s house, and one day he’d moved out, rather discreetly, not to be heard again. Somehow, Juan was aware of the town’s gossips, that he had acquired some unexpected sum of money, not sure if all very legally, but the thing was that he had decided to take his chances by going some said to Nicaragua, others to Brazil or even to the US…
                    But who really cared?

                    :fleuron:

                    On his plane for Valparaiso, Claudio was looking at the letter he’d found in the family trunk. It was a brief correspondence between his grand-father and a certain Cillian Mc Gaughran, and it was linked to the skull he had sold such a handsome price. Perhaps he could get more information about them, if the recluse old man was still alive, that is…

                    #1604

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      While I was cleaning today there was a music doco playing on tv …. I was thinking about our story when I tuned in to the television where they were talking about David Bowie using fishbowl technique to help him with lyrics cut out technique. This seems similar to our word cloud. Not so much a synch, however I thought it was quite interesting and thought it might be fun to try when I get stuck in my writing.

                      #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.

                      #609
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        — So he wants us to paddle down a river of pea-soup, is that it, sweetie?
                        Al was asking Tina, while playing with his teeth and gums…

                        — Oh, I don’t have any clue really, sighed Tina who began to feel annoyed by Al’s constant fiddling with his mouth.
                        — Well, not to worry then, except I’ve got focuses dead from poisoned pea-soup as far as I remember, so I am not overly enthusiastic about the whole pea-soup adventure… Better make it some more fluid…
                        — And will you tell me what you’re doing now with that mouth of yours Albert? Last time that was the hair, then the nails… it seems you can’t get enough of these explorations of your body consciousness, can you? Tsss… Tumold aligned people…
                        — Oh, this is fascinating, can’t you see, how fluid this all area is, despite the appearances.
                        — If you say so…
                        — Look!
                        — Oh now, you’re being gross! Tina was positively appalled by Al’s behaviour
                        — Oh, it’s funny, look… I can make my gums as malleable as marshmallow, and have my teeth float on that gum-soup…
                        Yikes!
                        — Entirely fascinating… And I can also grow some new ones, what would you say of pointy teeth like cannibals?
                        — Oh, come on, Tina was now no longer impressed… Have fun as you want, I’m going for a walk to help Becky buy her wedding dress… She wants something that looks “tribal” she said…

                        Tina went outside shrugging at the toothy grin Al gave her.

                        #604
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          Yann stroke Arona, lost in his thoughts. He’d spent the last few days with Yurick at Gustav’s place. He’d met Gustav a few days ago, when Yurick came to Paris with him. Gustav was a very sympathetic and fun fellow, his energy felt very soft to Yann and quite sensitive though he could appear a bit rough to others. Gustav was kind enough to let Yann sleep one night at his house when he was still there, before his holidays with his parents before Christmas and friends after Christmas. It was the occasion to eventually be with Yurick.

                          The life together was a bit different from what he would have normally expected… before. Now it was just a new experience, the interaction was different, and the configuration of energy could be a bit tricky.

                          Yann had noticed that in his perception even if an aspect of his attention was focused on the physical place and that he was physically seeing other individuals and objects in the official room, his main attention was elsewhere… he was beginning to be able to let more of this periphery to bleedthrough in his official reality, and he was well aware that the interactions weren’t always what they appeared to be. He first had the reflex to filter it through his usual associations and what he knew of this reality… but often enough he had that twinge about it like it wasn’t really fitting… it wasn’t fitting at all, he was trying to mold it into another shape, a familiar and distorted shape, so to speak. Ok, that was acceptable, and most of the time his attention and his movement was toward Yurick’s energy.

                          Yurick was creating some weird stuffs in with his mouth… some itching and uncomfortable pain… it was a bit weird because of the familiar associations with it… associations with pain, illness, preoccupations, caring, even self worth… but most of all it was showing Yann about the automatic movement “outside” of self, and not being present in what himself was doing.

                          Yann had noticed that most of the time when he was in what he was doing there was that warm expansion feeling in his belly… but still there was that location association with it… and the association that Yurick was outside and the room was outside and then at times it was fading and there was not much separation within energy.

                          And he just noticed that no separation didn’t necessarily mean continuity :-?

                          Ok, again this Owl music of the Harry Potter series… the “scum of the universe” connection was a bit hidden by this music now, but it was still in his periphery. And something he wanted to explore. A feeling of space travel and of mercenaries… that reminded him of the video games he was playing when he was a kid. There was always a time when he was fascinated by the “bad guys”, the pirates. Haha, maybe a pie rat would do as a dessert.

                          He would soon come back “home”. He had that DVD of the pilots of a series about space travels that he liked a lot… Yurick had told him about it 2 days ago, he had never seen it.

                          #602
                          Jib
                          Participant

                            Albert the mosquito was playing with a gigantic creature to the hide and seek game.
                            He was quite a daredevil mosquito and had managed to survive for several days in the same space arrangement.

                            He was close to the fulfillment of his intent and ready to move to other areas, but still in this reality… maybe he would choose some other species as he was incorporating some Praying Mantis aspects for a few days now.

                            #601
                            Jib
                            Participant

                              Georges and Salome’s journal

                              From Georges’ account of his arrival in Tur.

                              There is a strong energy concentration on some part of this planet called the Duane. I’m not yet familiarized with the geography of this world, but it seems to be a starry Island on the northern territories. The island is inhabited by a particular race that call themselves the Guardians. It seems that they are the only remnants of their previously flourishing civilization, most of them have migrated to another planet of the triplanetary system. The energy concentration is acting like a magnet, tuned to the other 2 planets, the Murtuane and the Phrëal. Maybe helping maintain the 3 of them in that particular triangle like alignment around Alienor.

                              The source of energy is coming from a giant crystal ball in their main City and is kept active by the Guardians. I’m wondering if they are responsible for the particular planetary aspect of this world. They are aware of other dimensions and other realities. But they are keeping these information for themselves. Planetary travels are not allowed for the other races apparently and they are not willing to exchange with other dimensional beings. I’ll have to play smoothly to gain their trust and get known. Apparently the body I chose for this first contact with this world is similar to one of their Jokan or higher ranked guardians. Maybe that will be of help.

                              There are twelve of them, and I think the 12 Jokan are directly connected with the 12 essence families of this dimension. Usually there are 4 of them present on each of the 3 worlds. But again that is information that is hidden to the other people of the Duane. I’m not sure about the other planets yet but it seems different.

                              #597

                              “ As we have stated previously, these terms are quite limiting for explanation purposes. The terminology is not incorrect, by any means. It is only expressing a much, much smaller impression to you than, in actuality, these terms represent. If your interpretation of these terms is too literal, you may find yourself accepting concepts which have only been explained to you partially; for our explanation of concepts is only a minute portion of the entirety of any idea, or concept, or “doctrine.” Only playing, my friend! These concepts must be taken in at this present time, within your present understanding, to the intellect; and the intellect must be allowed to trigger the intuition, allowing a full circle of thought, so to speak; this full circle being a continuous flow of information to assimilation, to actualization, to creation”

                              Patel

                              Not AGAIN!! shouted Becky. For the past week every time she tried to open her blog page, it always opened on this old post of Patels. Usually, by a circuitous route, she did eventually manage to arrive on her most recent post…..but not today! That monkey Patel wouldn’t let Becky look at any other post but this.

                              Funny coincidence really that she’d watched the cartoon last night called Madagascar, starrring Patel himself as King of the Lemurs. Becky had to laugh. A rave party of dancing lemurs on ecstasy!

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