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  • #1898
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      tjmarshall57: hahahaha as if it’s not bad enough with the weeding, now poor girl has blotches all over her face!
      tjmarshall57: wedding not weeding
      tjmarshall57: do russian wear velis?
      tjmarshall57: veils
      tjmarshall57: hhhm, blessing by a shaman, plaiting together of the couples hair….(is Becky still blad?)
      tjmarshall57: The biggest concern at the wedding is to have enough liquor. A Russian Wedding is an event where everybody must be drunk. No one will be surprised if people drink themselves to unconscious on the wedding – and many do.
      tjmarshall57: well, that will appeal to Sean
      tjmarshall57: You are probably surprised to find out that a Russian wedding lasts for 2 days!! (Well, at least. Some weddings last as long as a week, and this is something to be proud of and remember for years: it means the couple had enough liquor to go on and on, and enough devoted friends to stay.)
      tjmarshall57: The Russian church ceremony is colorful and solemn but the complete traditional ceremony is very long, and as guests and the couple have to stand during the ceremony (there are no benches in Russian churches at all; people must stand during all church services), faints are not rare.
      tjmarshall57: right, so a fair amount of fainting and drunkeness then
      tjmarshall57: Then the witnesses continue running the wedding, reading jokes and poems, and sometimes asking the new couple questions to make fun of them.
      tjmarshall57: Franci will you be my witness, you’d be perfect
      tjmarshall57: “Za molodykh!” (“For the newlywed!”)
      tjmarshall57: Traditionally money is considered as the best gift, and is given in an envelope. Some time after the beginning of the reception when people start to become drunk the witnesses will ask everybody to give their gifts and one of the witnesses will collect envelopes from the rest of the guests with a tray.
      tjmarshall57: Then people have time to dance. First dance is opened by the new couple. After the music starts, there is no exact script anymore, and witnesses can relax a little. They still occasionally announce a toast but do not entertain the guests with jokes and poems; guests by this time are already having lots of fun and are able to entertain themselves.

      Movements become quite hectic; some people go out “to refresh”, and at some moment in this movement the bride gets… “stolen”! She disappears, and when the groom starts looking for her, he is faced with a request for a ransom. Usually it’s his buddies who “steal” the bride. A more or less short wrangle about the amount, and he can have his new wife back. But he must watch out – the bride sometimes may be stolen a few times!

      tjmarshall57: right, so we have drunkeness, fainting, jokes, poems and insults, and theft and abduction
      tjmarshall57: Then there are the bride’s friends – they steal the bride’s shoe. The groom must pay ransom for the shoe too – the guests enjoy watching wrangles.
      tjmarshall57: Often guests leave the wedding in such a condition that they cannot remember what happened. If this was the case with the majority of guests, then the wedding was a huge success
      tjmarshall57: AHA! This is the key! I will write about it after the wedding, when nobody can remeber anything about it
      tjmarshall57: Day two of the wedding:After the meal the bride must “clean” the floor in the room. The fun part is that guests are allowed to mess as much as they want while she is cleaning
      tjmarshall57:
      tjmarshall57: another part for you!
      tjmarshall57: guests on a Russian wedding enjoy it much more than the newlywed couple who are all the time made fools of.
      tjmarshall57: The most popular period for wedding ceremonies in Russia was between the Christmas and Shrovetide (a week before the spring fast). This period was called the wedding period.
      tjmarshall57: well, the timing is right
      tjmarshall57: One of the many superstitions still prevailing among the peasant population of Russia is that, on the occasion of a marriage, the happiness of the newly-married couple is not assured unless the parents of the contracting parties are soaked with water from head to foot. When a marriage takes place in summer this is easily accomplished by ducking the fathers and mothers in the nearest river, but in winter they are laid on the ground and rolled in the snow.
      tjmarshall57: who are the parents?
      tjmarshall57: Among the Koraks of Siberia a young man seeks for a maiden with considerable dowry in the form of rein-deer
      tjmarshall57: oh, well we can have psychoactive reindeer pies, anyway
      tjmarshall57: Kovalevsky has well shown that many of the marriage customs of this country are survivals from a primitive and prehistoric age when the woman ruled the household and had more than one husband.
      tjmarshall57: hhmmmm
      tjmarshall57: it all points to a distant age when the matriarchal system prevailed, and the brother was his sister’s guardian. In Little Russia the brother’s sword is decked with the red berries of the rowan tree, red being the emblem of maidenhood.
      tjmarshall57: red fruit sync!
      tjmarshall57: no wonder I threw the cherries away!
      tjmarshall57: ahahahahha!
      franci_free: oh hrllo
      franci_free: goodness
      franci_free: will need to read back
      tjmarshall57: hahahah oh there you are
      franci_free: well what a complicated theme
      tjmarshall57: haahah well
      franci_free: you will have to write about the wedding
      tjmarshall57: the key to the whole thing is that everyone was so drunk that nobody can remeber any of it aftrwards
      franci_free: hahahah
      franci_free: great!
      tjmarshall57: thats my angle, I think
      franci_free:
      tjmarshall57: and s few things fit perfectly
      tjmarshall57: the red fruit
      tjmarshall57: the time of year
      tjmarshall57: the drunkeness, Sean will love that
      franci_free: the splotches?
      tjmarshall57: well, nobody will remeber that
      tjmarshall57: afterwards

      #703

      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.

      :fleuron:

      — 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…

      #702

      There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

      It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

      A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

      Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

      Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

      A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

      Oh! Who’s there?

      A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

      Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

      Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

      Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

      Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

      Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

      I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

      What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

      Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

      Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

      Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

      Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

      Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

      Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

      She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

      Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

      Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

      Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!

      #697
      AvatarJib
      Participant

        Unable to focus his attention on the now, Yann was amazed at his ability to create misunderstandings all around him.
        People that were calling him, people that were emailing him… even himself with himself!
        Trying to work, he was always clicking on the “wrong” mail, the “wrong” application, the “wrong” icon… wrong wrong wrong… he was laughing inwardly, thinking about what their friend Abby had told them yesterday about always thinking on the lack of or on the I can’t have it… well she was always doing this movement as if she was playing drums… and today at work, a friend of his came and told him it was an beautiful Monday, and she did this very same movement of playing the drum!!! he wasn’t aware that it was quite fitting the day coming.

        Though he could still focus on what was accomplishments in this day full of seeming obstacles. He really appreciated having lunch with Yurick, and laughing, talking of dolphins and stuffs ;)) well they were planning and doing many things now that they were living together.

        Inspiration was here again, and the motivation too.

        He had a dream last night about something that seemed quite important, something connected to him intimately. Almadar :yahoo_idea: what was the name about?

        When telling Yurick, it appeared that he had no impression about it, nonetheless he seemed quite interested, and it was also a synch as Yurick was also in the dream. Yann was asking him about modifying a pattern, energetic pattern to help a girl… :yahoo_thinking:

        Who was she? She seemed familiar.

        #685

        Dory was bored. She didn’t really know whether to be Dory, or Becky, or even Illi today. Maybe I will be someone new, she thought. Hmmm……

        Elvira, how about that. Well, Elvira was just as bored as Elvira as she would have been as Dory, Becky or anyone else for that matter. What happens when the inspiration goes? Where does it go? One minute the world is full of interesting things, and then Poof! nothing is very interesting at all……

        Elvira had lots of interesting things to do, she had many books, and various artistic projects half started or not even started, just thought about on and off for ages, and she had puppies to play with, and a big drawer full of pens and things to draw with. She had a camera that took little videos that was often a lot of fun…but nothing seemed worth the trouble today, nothing at all…..not even that silly wacom thing, and after all that fuss to buy it, too…it was more fun talking about buying it then the darn thing ever was afterwards…..

        The Internet, how could anyone be bored with an internet! There must be something seriously wrong with her to be bored when she had Internet! But she halfheartedly googled this, googled that…ho hum, tedium, nothing very interesting there….

        Well, what about your imagination then! Elvira sat up a bit straighter, challenging herself. You can surely do something interesting in your imagination, can’t you?

        She slumped back down again, and sighed. Like what? Well, imagine you are out in the sun, going for a walk…..

        Well ok, then, I am on the beach. At first I feel the sun on the top of my head and I squint at the bright sparkles on the sea. Then, my ears are ringing with cold, it’s a windy cold day after all and not much fun on the beach at all. Oh pull yourself together, woman! Pull your scarf round your ears! It’s a great day for driftwood, just look at those waves rolling in.

        I am trudging along, and the sand is hard to walk on and makes my legs ache. My God, I am out of shape! There are soggy oranges and piles of bamboo sticks, and plastic bottles all washed up in curving heaps. A soggy Marlboro carton; my, are they still smuggling fags from Gibraltar, I am so out of the smuggling loop these days….

        Well, was that it? Elvira chastised herself. Not much of a flight of imagination there, was it? Maybe a walk along the river instead…..

        Oh alright, if I have to…..actually I can’t be bothered to do this imaginary walk either, it’s no use….nothing is really very interesting today. I would like someone to amuse me, charmingly, pointlessly, something funny and light, and delightfully meaningless and simple…..

        And god forbid, nothing to do with beliefs, please! Or any of that weird stuff, like other lives and other dimensions, and talking to aliens and all that weirdo stuff….weirdo, weirdo, stuff! UGGHHH Elvira shuddered.

        Well, one thing I am pleased about, she mused almost happily, I can smoke again now my lungs are behaving. I thought I would be gloriously happy forever if I could only breathe without fear, and already I am Ho Hum about breathing….thought for sure I’d remember to focus on every brilliantly wonderful NOW moment, I did, after that fright with the lungs, but no….back to normal, well, worse than normal really, because now I am not even interested in anything……

        I wonder if I should start drinking again…..Oh don’t be silly, Elvira told herself rather sharply. Well, drugs then, maybe that would buck me up. It’d buck you up alright, but for how long? Well when they wore off, I could take some more.

        Yeah, right…..

        Elvira sighed again. Even Bertie Wooster hadn’t even managed to raise a smile this time, and he always used to make her smile. Reading Wodehouse now made her frown, wondering what ever she had used to find so amusing……

        The birds are making a racket out there, she noticed. Whatever do they find to sing about all day? Chirp chirp…jeeze….. maybe I should take up golf, she wondered. Dan seems to always have an interest, something passionately all-consuming……he never has enough hours in the day for all HIS interesting things….

        Where have all my interesting things GONE?

        #1677

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          tjmarshall57: I better make the next synch comment, its 157
          franci_free: oh good well
          franci_free: do you need help
          tjmarshall57: no I just tossed out a short rather pointless comment
          franci_free: okay well i hope it isn’t too rubbish
          tjmarshall57: just to keep my comments tally up and get the 57 one
          tjmarshall57: fairly rubbish really
          tjmarshall57: but it shows I am IN the loop and Paying attention
          franci_free: well i did 158
          tjmarshall57: ahahhahaha

          #681
          EricEric
          Keymaster

            New Venice, February 2034

            Al had finally completed his body experiments. The results were encouraging, and would probably help understand more of some bodily processes.
            Obviously he’d had some fun with them, these past few years —it was a nice way to learn more about himself, and to bring some of that knowledge to other people. Essentially, it was mostly to show them that what centuries of so-called “modern medicine” had done was to make them defiant of their own bodies. The mass creations of all these diseases not so long ago was still very much embedded into people’s imaginations. How ironic was that most of these diseases were coming from the body itself.
            So, what Albert was doing in his experiments was to push the limits to show how greatly adaptive the body structure was. It was nothing different than what scientists of the last decennia were doing on laboratory rats with many uncouth cocktails of injections —except that the trigger was for the most part an internal projection, no needing great amounts of artificial adjuncts.
            Becky’s sudden and impressive illnesses, shortly before her wedding had not worried him too much, because he knew that at times the body needed to adapt to new settings and environments, albeit not always physical ones.
            Another thing he knew well enough for having experienced it was that distrust was the most difficult part during this adjustment process. Distrust of the body, of self and of course of others. It was a delicate subject and most of their ancestors way of tackling the subject had been to reinforce the distrust in one’s own body. Pills and antibiotics could do wonders, but they were not that innocuous when they were used as ways to tell one’s own body it was not behaving the way it was supposed to be. As far as the symptoms were sometimes elusive, their physical effects could be quite unpredictable, depending on the patient’s state of mind.

            That reality play they were all writing to record their various connections has always been great fun. They had been toying with the idea of great changes, new frontiers of the mind and spirit and expansion of their consciousnesses.
            It had started during Becky’s infancy, were she was inspired by her step-mother and a bunch of her friends who were doing all kind of meditations and strange “imaginary” stuff. And two years ago, she had found old digital archives and had been amazed at some of the changes that had occurred during so few of the past years of her own existence, much of them mirroring these “imagined” changes.
            So, she had enlisted Sam, and Al and Tina to join in that reality play, to continue the projection into that “Shift” of the mind and see how farther it would take them.

            But there was something that Albert had always found a bit far-fetched was Becky’s confidence in such strides in their expansion of the mind. Doubtlessly he was acknowledging that things were changing —the last discoveries in how magnetic fields affected DNA and thus the bodies had been even compelling enough to have scientists reassess their stance on how DNA and evolution of species worked. But he doubted that everything would be a perfect utopia. And pain was such an inherent and useful part of their human experience that he was not conceiving how any consciousness expansion would get rid of it.

            So, back to Becky’s illnesses which were mirroring his owns, a great deal of them was also about accepting that pain not as a flaw in the way they were creating their reality, but as something real, useful as a mechanism of feed-back. Accepting it didn’t meant cherishing it and holding dearly to it, it merely meant they had to recognize it as a way of the body to bring back the diverted awareness into the body. Well, Al wasn’t sure it would always be necessary to have it, but for the moment, the species was not entirely accustomed to being present into the body. Perhaps when it learns that, pain wouldn’t be necessary…
            To reassure Becky, he had reminded her of how as a child she had grown teeth, and that had been perhaps one of the weirdest most disturbing and painful experience children experience in relation to their bodies, but her parents had been telling her all along it was just growing. She just had to trust her body knew better. Or like Krustis the clown was saying, it sure won’t help a man if he notices a thumping sound in his chest to have it stop…

            Well, in a few days time, it would be Chinese New Year. The large Chinese population of New Venice made it a very loved holiday, and Becky and Sean had decided to wed on that day, February 19 th where they would all step into the year of the Tiger.

            How funny, Al was thinking, leaning over the railing of the balcony, looking at the sunset reflecting over the waters… These funny people that Becky had known in her infancy, the original FGF, they had seen New York under waters in their meditations… And that yellow car…
            They had discussed a lot about this event, and some had been disquieted by that fact, fearing some impeding catastrophe. But all in all it had been a smooth occurrence. Authorities had been aware of the issue, and though they did not yet know all the mechanisms at play, they had been preparing some measures to avoid the city being flooded.
            There had been lots of debates, as most politicians were advocating of building of dams to prevent the rising sea levels to enter the city.
            But the studies of Dutch experts had been the most convincing, and New York City official soon decided to follow the example of the implementation in Netherlands of moving and adapting structures, constructions of buildings and plains liable to be flooded, and even buildings and roads construction on stilts structures, which Dutch had come over time to prefer to the dams, no matter how technically efficient…
            Another imagery of adapting structures with the flow…

            #678

            With all these alternating aches in his body, Yurick’s legendary patience was easily worn out these past few days.
            Of course, the news of his very near-future moving with Yann, which had finally come to be, was to be something he wanted to dance on, and rejoice and laugh with a delightful ravenous chuckle —or something a little less scary, for that matter…
            But these seeming dysfunction of his body (of course they were seeming, it was only a transformation… like a baby growing its first teeth… and who said it was to be a bed of roses for the caterpillar, under the pretext that it was inside a warm silky cocoon?) were making him very sensitive to lots of things. Other people’s energies for once, even if buffering them was becoming easier now…

            A loud ring from the telephone… Again, that woman looking for Océane. “There’s no Océane here”, he’d said, with the congeniality of a civil-servant who would have been disturbed two minutes before the morning coffee break.

            Having hung up, Yurick was thinking… Those wrong numbers may be important messages from my essence.

            And all he could think of… was that Yuki had definitely fingers too big for the dial buttons, especially if he was looking for Ogean!
            Anyway, in a few days time, it would be another one’s trouble to pick up those calls.

            #664

            In the creaking wooden caravan slowly moving its way on the dusty roads, Twilight was lost in deep thoughts, caressing mechanically the beautiful blond wig.
            She had done it almost on an impulse, but like all impulses she’d ever had, it had always felt deeply true to her core and she had gone. Now, it felt a bit strange, and too rational doubts were creeping along like viscous bugs, and she felt like judging her behaviour over and over.
            Of course, her brothers, Jo the first, and then Elroy, had been supportive, but they had always been that way. Even when their first reactions were to object to what she was doing, like dancing in the saloon, her determination was always winning them easily. She had promised to write often, and she would probably be back in a year.

            When the Freak Show had settled in town for a week, she had been at first almost grossed out by what was announced, and had not been her brothers to egg on her, she probably wouldn’t have been going to see them.
            Pat Elson, the director of the Fabulously Great Freakus (or FGF), was a little dark-skinned man in an orange suit and top-hat, with a communicable enthusiasm and a sincere consideration for the people he called “his performers”. Very soon, rather than being repulsed by the differences, Twilight had been attracted by the way of life of these people, and was considering traveling with them as an opportunity to discover more about the world and about herself. Her inspiration to write was even tickling her fingers like an army of ants she had never felt before.
            When she had said to Pat Elson that she was willing to travel and work with them, rather than laughing like he used to do, he’d taken a silent pondering moment to consider the options. Obviously Twilight wasn’t a freak herself, at least not physically freaky. But he couldn’t refuse help, as his business was growing every day. Venus, the armless woman, his best asset on the show, had been recently pregnant, giving birth to conjoined twins, and would surely appreciate two arms to give her a hand… so to speak.
            So he had agreed.

            The babies started crying in the caravan drawing Twilight out of her reveries. Venus was sleeping nearby, still exhausted, and Zarafina, the giraffe-woman, started to groan annoyed by the noise.
            Twilight hurried to cuddle the babies, checking that they were alright. All was right, they were probably only bugged by the bumps in the road. No wonder… she sighed.

            #1642

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              cool, I had a look at the trailers.

              Bridal Goddess synch ….. was browsing through a Time magazine in cafe, our story popped into my head and I found myself anticipating something related to it. On the next page was a story on Vera Wang, a New York Bridal Designer. I googled her later, one of the first links I looked at said:

              Fairytale wedding gowns, photographed at the stunning Dore Abbey, Gateway to happiness: Ivory, A-line, strapless gown with Lyon-lace appliqué on layers of tulle, organza and georgette, sizes 4-18, also in white, by Vera Wang, prices from £8,800, the Wedding Shop

              As well as an 88 synch, I thought Dore Abbey sounded like a Dory/Becky synch. haha

              #1641

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              EricEric
              Keymaster

                For the 123 th comment on this thread (woot)
                Checking out the new trailers, there are new films coming this summer with islands & other dimensions syncs and more (sycamore?) :

                :multimedia:
                Fools Gold
                Ben Finn Finnegan (Matthew McConaughey) is an affable, modern-day treasure hunter who is obsessed with finding the legendary 18th century Queen’s Dowry*-40 chests of priceless treasure that was lost at sea in *1715. (that’s 11 and 57 with a little fold of imagination :yahoo_winking: )

                The Chronicles of Narnia, Prince Caspian
                Some other-dimensional island sync on the opening sequence of the trailer…

                Nim’s Island
                Success-story female author, imaginary friends, island, frog technique coconut harvesting, even a goat! How funny…

                #661
                AvatarJib
                Participant

                  The preys weren’t so easy to catch. Phurt had some difficulties after they had fallen from the sky, destroying a nest in the process. Most of her sisters were upset and would have killed both of them at once, but Narani had insisted : they had to be kept alive.

                  The female was the most aggressive, she was shouting and struggling, she managed to knock out 2 of them, they were youngsters, but nonetheless experienced huntresses. The male was hurt. Phurt was surprised at how bigger than the female he was. Most unusual she had thought then… When she had told that to Narani, she had just breathed quicker to show her amusement. Narani was wise and old… very old. Maybe it was time for her to let another sister take her place.

                  Phurt froze in anguish, she was most astonished by her thoughts. Something definitely weird was happening. Was it what she had sensed before the arrival of the preys? It was changing her from inside. She had to hide this part of herself to her sisters. Narani had never been challenged, there was no recalling of any such event. Narani was the memory of her sisters. Nothing was hidden to her… until now.

                  :fleuron:

                  Something had changed in the vibration of the collective of her sisters. Narani had felt the modification of the flow since the arrival of that human device. Her sisters had only found 2 humans, a female and her male. There should have been a cub. The mother was still smelling her offspring.

                  Narani hadn’t tell that to her sisters, they wouldn’t understand. Though the threat that Phurt had felt before their arrival… the threat was from this particular child.

                  #658
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    The new shop was splendiferous. It had all people could imagine about pets and stuff, pets most people wouldn’t have imagined existed. There was even a whole division for the pets health, with permanent vets…

                    The “Rent’a Pet Shop, Boy!” was taking a whole building, with no less than thirteen storeys, and when Sidonie entered the huge hall at the ground floor, which was slightly above the waters’ level, she was awed by the quantity of animals which where stored in the facility.
                    She didn’t know what she wanted for a start and now she was beginning to feel lost.

                    A beautiful tall black woman, with short hair and wearing an ample avocado-coloured boubou and carrying a little dog close to her chest passed by her and Sidonie could hear her muttering apparently incoherent bits to herself
                    Come on Chumpy, the doctor said it will be alright after that surgery, here, here little thing, breathe, breathe and say YES… Oh Lordy, I’m gonna be late, and Sam will be bugged if I make him wait in his friend’s flying car…

                    Sidonie was mesmerized by the woman, who suddenly turned to face her and said winkingly “I’d rather not go for a squawking parrot if I were you, they can’t keep quiet… and not a magpie either… Al said this new breeds of nine-tailed foxes are great, but I can’t really get used to anything else but dogs… Oh, I must go, need to have the last alterations done on my wedding gown… How can they expect that I remember all of this!

                    And the woman went running out of the shop…

                    Sidonie was baffled… A nine-tailed fox… Why not, sounded like a nice idea. At least, she could start by renting it, and if it was a nice companion and Tonio was OK with it, she would adopt it…

                    She asked a vendor where was the fox section. The vendor took a very professional look to ask her if she meant the new genetically engineered breed of foxes, or the classical breeds, desert, arctic or continental…
                    Sidonie was lost for a moment, then remember the lady had said they were new breeds, so she asked for the new ones in an intimidated voice.

                    Upstairs, thirteenth floor, on your right after the jump said the vendor and beware of the shrimpigators

                    #1637

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    AvatarJib
                    Participant

                      Poker synch with Tracy’s comment # 526 wich is apparently #923 :))
                      I had a dream last night about a kind of poker in a casino.
                      It was different from our known poker in that the chips also were part of the game and had different values… there were unexpected chips like one ressembling 2 circling arrows, blazing red arrows.. very similar to a yin yang symbol or a recycling symbol. Its meaning was that of the actions done by you are attributed to your adversary.. it was a kind of exchanging aspects symbol actually, now that I think about it :-?
                      Well nonetheless Poker Synch :))

                      #647

                      When Felicity had taken the job, she had thought at first that it was all a big interstellar joke…
                      Come on… Dead people speaking though living?
                      But a few recent experiences made her feel there was kind of warmth surrounding her when she started the radiophonic sessions, and that she was feeling… inspired, for lack of a better word.
                      Words indeed were coming and flowing, and even though she was rarely speechless, the words did have some different quality.
                      And people enjoyed the show greatly, and mails kept coming to the radio thanking DDT for all of the marvelous advices…

                      Till then, as she was conscious of the process, she had refrained issuing some definite statements on future events, as the inspiration was pressing her to do at times. As subtle as all of this was, she was feeling it was not really the same energy as the warm one; it was like incursions of a quicker and less stable bouncy energy.
                      It was pushing her to make cocky statements, on mass events about to come… Oh, not again self-fulfilling prophecies, please! she couldn’t help but think…

                      At times, Felicity was even wondering whether she was really going completely crazy.
                      Oh, it was so much simpler to be a genuine fraud…

                      :fleuron:

                      — Arky, come here at once!
                      — But, I’ve done nothing…
                      — Stop being such a jackanapes, will you… You know very well there is no secret…
                      — Yes…

                      Despite his being immaterial, it was obvious that the One referred to as Arky was being scolded.

                      — And you know perfectly well there is nothing to gain in pushing things…
                      — But I intended well…
                      — I know that. As generations of focuses of leaders and presidents have been doing. One would have assumed you’d knew better by now… I can see you’re enjoying being with me on the soapbox, but either you find your own, or you better stay clear next time we get a communication.
                      — Understood.
                      — Fine, class dismissed.

                      #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…

                      #632

                      The movements of the marmoset were swifts and effortless. The creature was moving through space and not in the jungle. That Kay was another expression of consciousness. It was not a creature, it was not of essence. They had not recognized its nature as quickly as they could have if it wasn’t merged so intimately with that focus of Blöhmul. The little mass event of this pursuit was tremendously fun, and they were all getting closer to Anita. The aspects of the 4 essences still focused with her were still. She had just awaken from her last dream with her parents. And was telling it to Yuki and Armelle. The Lynx was sleeping on a rock outside, enjoying the warm feeling of the sun on its fur, and the Goat was busy eating the grass around the camp so no creature or human could hide and sneak around without being noticed. Armelle hooted with amusement. They all reintegrated the aspects they had put together to create that marmoset.

                      It reached its hand to grasp an borgulm fruit from the upper branch of the borgulm tree. The Snoot was quite fond of these juicy and intermediate fruits. They were always containing alcohol to various degrees, never the same. They were quite colorful also, many shades that you would discover only when opening them. And the Snoot liked to be surprised. The juice was coloring its liquid fur as soon as it had been absorbed. The Snoot had usually no name. They were quite solitary creatures. Expressions of different aspects of consciousness from an ancient civilization, as some would tell you. The Snoot noticed some alteration of the air. Different elements of the whole were coming… they felt quite different from what it was accustomed to. A strong curiosity motivated the Snoot which was altering his liquid fur and becoming translucent, transparent, almost invisible, and it began to focus on these strange arrangements of consciousness that were so noisy.

                      :fleuron:

                      Kay saw the marmoset disappear just before they reached a clearing where a Lynx was sleeping and yet not sleeping, a Goat was eating the grass and esthetically shaping the clearing, and inside a hidden bubble were an Owl and a Rabbit that seemingly were listening to a little girl giggling and babbling.

                      #627

                      Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?

                      Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.

                      Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.

                      It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.

                      He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.

                      #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

                      EricEric
                      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…

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