Search Results for 'light'
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Search Results
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In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
Dispersee sat on a fallen tree trunk, lost in thought. A long walk in the woods had seemed just the ticket to release her from her turbulent thoughts, but alas, she had been unable to stop thinking about the ramifications of the new message from the popular ghost.
At first she had been delighted to see it. She had agreed with it. But then she wondered why. Because she already knew all this, and in fact, it was information that could so readily be gleaned by anyone at all simply by engaging ordinary common sense, and run of the mill human compassion. Nothing esoteric was needed. No enlightened messages from the great beyond. In fact, she had said the same as the ghost, and on many occasions. The truth of the matter was that one had to be dead these days to be heard. Nobody was interested in the wise words of the living anymore. It could almost be said that nobody was all that interested in living at all: everyone wanted to be in the future, or the past, or in some other dimension, or planet, or not even physically alive at all anywhere. The individuals in the ascension process were particularly infected with this strange disorder: many of the ordinary uninitiated public were already quite well aware of the contents of the message and were already actively engaged in the process. It was as if the interest in so called shifty matters was an obstacle, an ugly carbuncle over the heart.
Dispersee seriously wondered if the whole shift thing had been a good idea. She was beginning to doubt that it was. The alacrity with which people relied on messages from ghosts at the expense of exercising their own powers of deduction and intuition had caused the whole plan to do disastrously wrong. People didn’t even know how to behave like people anymore. Not only were they afraid of other people, afraid of their governments, afraid of their food, of the sun and the water and the very earth itself, they were afraid of their own human responses, or had forgotten them altogether.
Did it really need a ghost to advise people on media propaganda, and remind them to be compassionate to others who were on an incredible journey, an extraordinary movement during these times of change? And more to the point, did Dispersee need to be involved at all in this futile ascension malarkey?
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“Don’t push me,” snapped Finnley. “Yes Godfrey, I believe picking up rubbish is in my job description. Your job description … well buggered if I know what you do around here,” she said snarkily, perversely annoyed at being telepathically described as ‘the maid’. “Give me that rubbish immediately and I will deal with it,” she commanded, making a grab for Godfrey’s hand. “You go and help LIz with Roberto. And whatever you do, don’t let the blighter jump 3 times in the air and shout stickum lute putty. ”
“Who are you?” whispered Godfrey, keeping a firm grasp on the scraps of paper, aided perhaps by the fact that the honey was adhering them to his hand. “You are not the Finnley we know and … well, the Finnley we know. Is that cucumber on your face really a disguise? What have you done with Finnley?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Finnley, rolling her eyes.
“Help!” screamed Liz. “He’s trying to jump!”
In reply to: The Chronicles of the Flying Fish Inn
Aunt Idle wandered around, wondering where everyone was. Had everyone gone out on a day trip or a holiday? Had she forgotten? She clumped across the yard looking for Bert. If she could find Bert, he would know ~ but where was he? Her feet felt dry and heavy. I really must do something about those dry callouses, she thought ~ perhaps a long hot soak in the bath. But first, I must find the others.
Idle continued her search, but her legs began to feel like lead. Funny how some days gravity seemed so much stronger. It was becoming harder to put one foot in front of the other. What was it that guy on the internet had said about a lightness of energy? The unbearable lightness of being ~ well this was more like the unbearable heaviness of feet.
A pair of butterfly’s scampered through the air, fluttering and darting around Idle’s sticky dreads. Be light like the skipping of a butterfly, that guy had said. Hah! she croaked. Easy to say! Unable to walk any further, Idle grabbed onto a straight little eucalyptus sapling to hold herself up. Her fingers felt stiff and inflexible as she grasped the slender trunk.
It’s just too hard, she thought with a heavy heart. It’s too hard to move.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
That’s funny, Roberto thought, a bunch of nonsense.
“What’s that ?” asked Liz, her curiosity picked by the alluredness of a strand of words.
“It just fall off your hat”, said the gardener. He looked at the woman, thinking about what Godfrey had told him. The sunlight certainly made her look radiant. He noticed that the red of her lips was the same as the red rose bush he was just taking care of.
Liz took the paper.
“Be careful, It’s sticky”, said Roberto.
“Say something I don’t know, dear.” She tried to get rid of the paper, tearing it in several pieces in the process.
“I wonder…” she began, “Finnley”, she called waiting for her help. She would certainly know. She had a habit of sticking her nose everywhere.In reply to: Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard
But wait! What is this?
Her greedy fingers had located something unexpected; something dense and uncompromising was lurking in her precious nectar. Carefully, she explored the edges of the object with her finger tips and then tugged. The object obligingly emerged, a gooey gelatinous blob.
Dido sponged off the honey allowing it to plunk on to the table top. It did not occur to her to clean it up. Indeed, she felt a wave of defiant pleasure.
The ants will love that, although I guess Mater won’t be so thrilled. Fussy old bat.
She licked her fingers then transferred her attention back to the job at hand. After a moment of indecision whilst her slightly disordered mind flicked through various possibilities, she managed to identify the object as a small plastic package secured with tape. Excited, and her ravenous hunger cravings temporarily stilled in the thrill of the moment, she began to pick at the edges of the tape.
Cocooned Inside the plastic was a piece of paper folded multiple times. Released from its plicature, the wrinkled and dog-eared paper revealed the following type written words:
food self herself next face write water truth religious behind mince salt words soon yourself hope nature keep wrong wonder noticed.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
At the same time, and in a different space, Floverley was trying to help some characters out of the limbo state of forgetfulness.
To lure them out of the woodwork, and offer them a much needed sexying-up, she had set up a luminary booth at the fringe of the Limbo states next to Nowherehampton, which stated in unapologetic fluorescent neon lights “FREE MAKEOVER” and in little letters “(hugs NOT complimentary)”.
As far as she’d found, the little In Sects were still in winter slumber, and her business was at a crawl that she wanted to consider switching strategies, not that she was big on strategies, only needing but one “go with the flove”.
Anyhow, the ring of the sudden distraction with Master John and Dispersee would surely do as well as a round of aura cleaning duties.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
The jiggong meditation’s end was signaled by a silent ring of the immaterial bell in between states of mind. MJ stretched his ideas and send a shepherd to gather his thoughts. Today only one student connected to the session. MJ acknowledged his presence with a slight flickr of his crown chakra and he checked his voicemail. 1223 messages from Dispersee. He let the potential irritation dissolve as it was born into existence and prepared to respond. No need to listen to the messages, it would only delay the answer.
He felt a nudge from the student who hadn’t dissipated as he should. Some hesitation fluctuated in the energy. He turned his attention to the void and waited. His motto was to always let people ask the questions they had if they had any, and not begin a conversation if you hadn’t something important to say.
Master John ?
MJ sent some encouragement to the void where the student thought he was.
I can’t think of a question, finally expressed the student out of nowhere.
Maybe you don’t have any question, MJ said to the void.
The student’s energy rippled with surprise. Had he been on Earth plane, he would have had a nervous laugh.Master John had already been aware that the void of the student had no question but was filled with interrogations. He was desperately trying to find something to ask in need to connect, unaware that the connection already existed and required no movement.
MJ sent an energy egg to the student. Let him play with that. It was crafted according to the ancient Chinese culture and hard to crack. With lots of mind knots and shiny curly clues. MJ let his pride of having created the object dissolve like squid ink in the ocean of his mind.Suddenly absorbed by the illusory complexity of the egg, the student suddenly blended into the void of MJ’s mind, replaced by the myriads of Dispersee’s messages cackling simutaneously to catch his unwavering attention. He picked one of them and followed the thread to Dispersee and to a nice pique nique in the mountain apparently. Floverly was already there, sitting on a patch of red flowers.
You could have changed after your jiggong, she said.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
“Actually, I was thinking about you, Dispersee, for a rather delicate mission.”
Medlik said in a slightly coying voice. “I’m getting anxious vibes from the Lady Floverley, and I think she may have run into trouble with the lost refugees.”Medlik knew he’d caught her attention at the words “archangeology” and “refugee”. He didn’t actually use yet the word “archangeology”, but don’t forget all time is simultaneous in the Ascended Spheres.
“If I remember well,” Medlik continued with increased coyness “you were accustomed to delicate tasks of exploration in connecting with sensitive groups of people and tribes of many cultures in another lifetime of yours dear Gertie.”
The remembrance of her old nickname triggered amounts of memories, sand and romance, not necessarily in that order, nor in any order as it may.
“Well, then, it is agreed Lady Dispersee. You will go to settle the Dessert Lands, and offer the recalcitrant story refugees a domain carved from the old stories, with new borders and frontiers. Settle them well into their new territories, and let them forget about these silly liberties they have taken with their roles. Pip, pip, off you go. And don’t forget the Lady Floverley in her predicament.”
Medlik almost thought of how leaderly all that sounded, but he wouldn’t tip off the Lady Dispersee who would surely stubbornly go the opposite way, had she realized she was about to miss a novel way to defy authority.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
Big G came to the rescue, as poor Finnley was visibly at a loss for words. Having her talking culinary delights was in itself a revelation as to her levels of stress.
“Liz, dear. I think your cousin Badul is going to invite us for her nth wedding. There always has been a sort of untold competition between the two of you, hasn’t it?”
“Godfey, don’t be silly. There hardly was ever a competition at all, to begin with. Now, be a dear and go fetch me a new husband.”Godfrey had anticipated the unexpected again. His eyes were set on the window, where the shady and hunky enough window-cleaner was peering through, visibly interested by the whole play. With a little make-over, he would make Liz a fine tenth husband, he reckoned.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“Why do you suffer pain? You have compressed yourself into a form and an identity, hence the suffering. You pursue spirituality from the same limited and conditioned standpoint and hence you cannot secure any foothold in these pursuits. In whatever subject you are absorbed, you deal with it from the standpoint of a personalized entity, and not as dynamic manifest consciousness…”
“Hear that Liz’ ?” Godfrey beamed in delight “It was not Roberto or any bloody character, it was only your dynamic manifest consciousness!”
“In other words, are you saying it was all my fault again, cheeky blithering fool?” Liz’ couldn’t contain her petulance.“I think you’re missing the point, dear,… but yes.” He added after a dramatic pause “or you can blame it on Cynchtia Dipity, or her twin sister, Serene.”
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
Ignoring the peculiar behaviour of Finnley, who seemed to be having a strange turn (Flove only knew what had happened to her during her absence), Liz continued with her explanation.
“It’s the new exercise in the Mandala of Ascensions group. There are Leader Personalities, and there are Supporter Personalities ~ and let me be perfectly clear, there are no in betweens or other categories in this particular exercise. Members of the group must choose one category only.”
Liz paused to light a cigarette, and turn down the background chatter emanating from the puerile radio show, which was distracting her from her train of thought.
In reply to: The Precious Life and Rambles of Liz Tattler
“Oh haha I can’t keep up with myself!” laughed Finnley in a most uncharacteristic and slightly manic manner. After offering to explain once more, although nobody could remember what she was explaining, she retreated for a second time.
In reply to: Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard
On the empty road, Quentin realized there was something different in the air.
A crispness, something delicate and elusive, yet clear and precious.
A tiny dot of red light was peeking through the horizon line.It was funny, how he had tried to elude his fate, slip through the night into the oblivion and the limbo of lost characters, trying so hard to not be a character of a new story he barely understood his role in.
But his efforts had been thwarted, he was already at least a secondary character. So he’d better be aware, pretend owl watching could become dangerously enticing.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
Floverley felt her presence was needed in the Cackling Dimension of lost stories refugees.
In truth, she wasn’t so keen on leaving her aura cleaning duties, even less so to get involved with any of Dispersee’s warped assignments, but a call couldn’t be left unanswered (although her subtle help would probably be left unfelt).
Anyhow, she braced herself and with some reluctance, followed her emanation of light which was already dispatched, en route to the Pickled Pea Inn.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
Frowning, Dispersee pondered the latest impulse and hesitated before including it in her report. The imagery had shifted from pools, to bubbles, to vapourous mist rising in shafts of sunlight, which sounded dangerously akin to ascending into the light, and that would never do. There was already far too much mumbo jumbo circulating about ascension and light, and altogether too many people sitting around on gluten free arses, ignoring everything, waiting for the shifted salt free shaft of the rapture to beam them up to the higher realms.
No, it was no good, she couldn’t possibly share the new imagery, it would be misconstrued and counterproductive. Dispersee waited for the next strange impulse, and further clues.
She didn’t have to wait long: the next morning, seized by another compulsion, she slipped out of the house into the dense swirling fog. Normally a big fan of bright contrast and intense colours, the diffused monochrome scenes were somehow restful to her senses. Water droplets danced in the air like common eye floaters, gathering on her skin and hair, wetting her as effectively as a dunk in a pool, but without the sudden shock of a plunge. It was insidious, almost sneaky, the way the mist pretended to be air but was mostly water. The fog connected everything in its path with its swarms of moisture droplets, drenching everything. Dispersee wondered if her wellington boot had sprung a leak as her left sock became coldly saturated, but it was the rivulets of clinging fog dribbling down her trouser leg.
The bucolic scenery in shades of grey reminded her of the common phrase “it’s not black and white” which had been much bandied about of late. No, it’s not, she mused, it’s shades of reflected dispersed fluid, masquerading as spaces and solid matters. Poised to take a snapshot of a particularly large dewdrop which was reflecting an interesting twisted sapling, Dispersee blundered into the stalk of the plant, causing a furious shivering along the stems and seed pods. She watched with a feeling akin to fascinated horror as the glorious individual droplets merged into a channel of least resistance, spilling down in streams to gather in the mud.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
Domba didn’t know why he’d attract those strange beings of light who tried to cajole him into following their glib tongued advice.
Domba was no fool, he’d learnt young that nobody gets interested in Domba unless someone wants to play tricks on him.
His life was a prison, that much he knew. The light guys could well be the jailers themselves for all he knew. He didn’t care about that, or any of their business with power. Power of knowledge, for all the good it did, didn’t seem to have guided the human race to better ends. And compassion was for foolisher than himself.For now, he did have fun a little with the one who called herself Dispe, for her spirit seemed benign enough, a fountain of wonderment and joy in contrast with the way he’d learnt to see the world. He couldn’t really understand all about her wild rants, but if anything, he was curious about her views, and how she sustained them, like as a child, he was endlessly amazed at the resilience and resourcefulness of ants.
Maybe she was a queen ant, and he was just that stupid worker she was having fun with.
The wild nature overgrown in the miles of no-man’s land around his place had so much to teach. Persistance, endurance, and a boundless love of life itself. It was as though nature’s own rhythm was overlaid and hidden by the man-made time and routines. Whereas, if you were to look under, the slow stubborn and everlasting pace of nature’s growth was vibrating underneath, encouraging whoever willing to listen to slow down to its tune, and taste its encompassing love of life.
He often wondered how long before men would come and try to pour concrete over the land, and raise scrapers of metal and blown-sand. His only solace was to think that in his madness, man couldn’t completely obliterate nature, that it would always be waiting patiently.He wondered how those light beings failed to see how even them weren’t as apart from it as they thought they were. Or maybe they knew deep up.
He’d noticed a bird coming many times too. That bird had an agenda, and too clean feathers to not be either a spy, or some heavenly messenger.
In reply to: Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard
A man with big hairy hands welcomed him in the new world’s consuelambassy office. “Welcome”, said the man with a deep voice. Sam couldn’t get his eyes off the man’s hands. He looked at the guy. Without those hands he would just be like a regular guy.
“I’m a bit early”, said the man, “so we might as well begin now. Is that ok for you ?”
“What ? Oh! yes, of course…” those hands are so huge, he thought.
“Perfect. Just sit on this chair and I’ll guide you through the procedure.”
“Ok.” Sam sat on the chair he had been shown and gave the man the papers he had brought for the procedure.
“Great, I can see you’ve brought everything pertaining to your old self.” He barely looked at the documents and threw them in the shredder. A red light flickered before turning to a bluish green.
“You won’t need those.”
“Obviously”, said Sam. As he had already been puzzled that morning, he decided it was superstifluous to continue in this direction. He had come here to get a new identity after all. His old self had been torn apart. There was certainly no one to feel disrespected.In reply to: Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard
“This is not fair !” The guy put down the blue dragon head on the table next to the ladies. He was still wearing the rest of his costume, scaly tail included.
“Oh shut up Leo,” Linda cackled softly, making it sound like she’d called him Leormn or something. “We’re all prisoners here of our own device” she sang. “Who cares about how unfair it is. Even the rat took a break to Mumbai, instead of waiting for his next call by the Board of Authors. You should do the same. And get rid of this silly costume, you’ve had it for as long as I’ve known you. Or keep it. I don’t care.
Next round of cackle is on me!”In reply to: Cakletown and the Lone Chancers of Custard
Penelope and Patty Ratty had packed their bags, procuring the necessary items from Bea’s cluttered house. Candles (it was always so dark behind fridges), bar of soap (some of these human houses were not all that clean, a self respecting rat felt quite filthy after a midnight stroll around some kitchens and needed a good wash afterwards), mince pies, used teabags to use as in flight pillows, and an unexpected prize of a half an antibiotic tablet, thoughtfully left out in a convenient position. Patty often got an upset stomach when travelling in human spaces, and was inordinately pleased to find the pill.
In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions
“Dispersee!” Medlik bellowed “ Dispersee ! You’re late again for your assigned report on the Cackleversity !”
“You tart” Floverley remote-elbowed her neighbour in spirit. “Pay a little attention, or he’s never going to stop lecturing us.” She rolled her eyes “There he goes…”
“…important it is? Seriously, that little trick that you call insanitizing could well be a weapon of mass enlightenment! You have to be careful and follow-up.”
Floverley was always the quiet one, but she wondered at times if she was the only one paying attention in the classroom. Medlik’s exhortations at times seemed so full of contradictions, in a not so enlightened way. She shuddered at the thought that she started to sound so frightfully contumacious.
“Doubt is the light-killer” she admonished herself, reciting the first rhyme of her little litany against doubt that she taught to her devotees. “Master Medlik is just testing our capacities, there is no reason to doubt his intentions…”
