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  • #878
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Old Narani is becoming too soft.
    While the attraction of the hole was intensely beckoning, Phurt had been appointed by a strange twist of fate to the guard of the prisoners by the Old Mother.

    Bugger Narani whisspered Phurt, why not just kill them, these stupid two-legged animals. Why the pain of keeping them alive? Good thing the daily dose of sedative venom had them quiet now. They would only scare the mooing preys. Stupid, stupid.
    Of course, it would be easy to just sink a little more than usual her sharp tooth into their neck so fragile. A regrettable accident…
    Phurt couldn’t help but smile a grin as wide as her hairy eight-eyed face. But she wasn’t known as the Doctor of Breath for nothing. Her mere breath could be as sweet as a jasmine scent or terribly deadly. She had never missed a target, never could have.
    She was no mere Spinner; how could the Mother have put her to such a slighting task. Degrading. For her, the most promising Hunter of her generation to be doing this while they all were securing the hole perimeter.

    She would have to go. Something was nudging her to move, something like a fluid water sound, that whispered that nothing could happen to those prisoners. No one would be fool enough to dare to enter the Nest.
    Ahaha, why would she care? Nobody would know. And the little ones would alert her in any case.

    With a prodigious jump, she sprung to the forest in the direction of the hole. She couldn’t be denied her destiny.

    :fleuron:

    Is it gone now? a voice whispered under a pile of giant ferns
    I think it is growled Araili’s voice Thanks to the Snoot’s power of suggestion, I suppose… The Snoot might find spiders eggs delicacy enough to help us in our rescue operation.
    Shall we go there now? Kay? Ready to go and report back if everything’s clear?
    Ready.

    :fleuron:

    Rafaela was not finding it very difficult to jump on the rocky slopes. It was only difficult for her to remember to stay physically focused so that Anita wouldn’t fall to a certain death. And of course, even more difficult to resist to the attraction of nibbling a few crunchy thistles and brambles that grew here and there.
    But Yuki’s attention was here to remind her, and so far, their progression had been smooth and easy.

    But all of a sudden, the small pink nose of Yuki raised in quicker spasms sniffing the air intently.
    What? What? asked Rafaela who almost forgot her focusing. What?! Did I fart or something?

    Anu who was having the time of her life jumping on the coarse back of the goat giggled at her clueless question.

    — I think the spiders are moving too. We’ll be reaching the hole before them, and the Snoot tells me they won’t be moving close to it. But they won’t let anything or anyone get out of it. Let’s hope dear Armelle will spot a path for our friends.
    — Not to worry, Rafaela said matter-of-factly, Army is good at spoohtting. She’s the best I know at that.
    — OK, let’s move on…

    :fleuron:

    Claude was finally seeing a pinhole of light, at a close distance. He could just continue to crawl out his way to the light, and he would soon be release. And to cheer him up, he reminded himself that no man nor beast he feared, with his phenomenal strength agility and speed he now had. Too bad he didn’t have any time to get a proper super-hero attire he smiled to himself.

    :fleuron:

    On Tikfijikoo, the Magpie’s energy maze-cloak was now lift. The fury of the cyclone was now in its full power, and the Magpies were starting their swift deployment.
    The item was left unguarded in the operation room, as far as they could tell, and in the chaos of the elements, surely a few magpies would be unnoticed.

    They had to move quick now. The portal would be opened soon too. They couldn’t come back without bringing “it” back with them.

    #824
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Midora was perplexed. These books were like an open-ended uncharted territory. That territory was so vast and fractal-like in nature that each attempt at following a single thread seemed daunting. There were always details growing like a reckless plant from the entry points where she started her investigations. Badul seemed lost in this jungled maze.
    Last time she’d tried to connect, she ended up with another focus of his, a child, vaguely related to the crystal skulls hunt.

    All it requires is a proper compass to navigate the thought suddenly appeared in her mind as clear as daylight, carrying with it a trail of concepts and clusters of associated ideas.
    One in particular…
    She’d had that book of designs she’d always loved to read when she was a child. It was full of colorful symbols which were called by the authors “tiles”. The authors associated some properties to them, and she remembered one which was about a compass…
    So she had found a compass… Now, she would have to learn how to use it. The introduction of the book said:

    The tiles presented in this book all have different functions; they can be primarily understood as focal points which enhance specific uses of energy. […] As far as we know, they can be discovered in many situations, either objective events (e.g. something that catches your gaze in the street) or in the subjective (dreams, visions, inspirations etc.). In both cases, the recognition is instantaneous, as each tile carries a distinctive energetic signature which is the essence of its “function”, so to speak.
    As such, it can be used theoretically in both situations (subjective and objective), though, as far as we have explored, subjective interaction with them seem to be the easiest and most quickly rewarding way of accessing them.

    Subjective interaction, yes that was child’s play, she would have said, though she could vaguely understand why people before the Shift completed had more trouble accessing it. Objective wasn’t so difficult, once you get to the idea that it’s all one, and you can easily switch from each of the attentions used to focus on them.

    The only thing that doesn’t seem to change, she thought, is the numbering. Even when the events shuffle through the pages and reorder themselves, or even when the very energy of the event subtly changes, their numbers were the same. She could start with that.

    She cleared her mind, envisioning the compass, then took a deep breath and asked herself a question, Where do I find Badul?
    Slowly, the compass started to shift and turn, while numbers started to roll in front of her mind’s eye, and like a lottery, at each draw a number appeared, slowly revealing a number: 1-2-3-8

    She eagerly leafed through the books to find the reference. Well… that was more perplexing than ever, that seemed like a totally unrelated story.
    But now, she was not so sure about that, as she read the entry and wondered about the fact that it seemed once again different from the first time she’d read it.

    And now, she marveled as a new entry started to write itself under that one. It was the first time she actually saw an entry write itself. Those she had spotted that were not here before, she just assumed they had appeared instantaneously. But not this one… and it started to link Franiel’s and Badul’s explorations…

    #814
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Dr Bronklehampton just put the finishing touch on his last work of art.

    It had required him more patience than he usually had for such things, but his guinea pig has been behaving quite docilely, well, docilely enough to make his task easier.
    The most painful part for the Doctor had been to beautify the visible scars which had appeared upon careful examination of his subject, but he was greatly helped in his task. In fact, he never ceased to be amazed by the accuracy of the information delivered by the costly computer that the Confregation had granted him to pursue his work.
    But now,… now, she was perfect. Lovely as like a Chinese porcelain doll.

    Now that things finally were coming back into focus, the distant voices around made him frown. He was even starting to become suspicious of that Veranassessee girl that had supposedly come to assist him, as she was becoming dangerously close to the experience subjects, not to mention the visits of that Gabriel.
    This island was becoming more and more a crowded resort rather than the secret facility it was supposed to be. Not that he really cared, now that his ultimate deadly bodyguard was finished…

    #750
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    I take it from that you don’t know where the wedding dress is currently. Well if you do come across it would you mind letting Felicity know. said Tina haughtily, switching the phone off abruptly.

    Al’s words running through her head she started walking quickly nowhere in particular.

    Tina, what’s the point of these experiments we have been doing with Becky and Sam if you are going to keep relying on the phone all the time? And why are you trying to sort out the dress for Felicity, it isn’t your problem.

    It wasn’t the so much the words which had stung, after all he was right, it was the annoyance she thought she had heard in his voice.

    She felt him making contact, quickly blocked, feeling too hurt to be open.

    She knew he was tired, god knows he had put so much into the wedding preparations, as he did with all his projects. He was fast building a reputation for his ground breaking experiments with body processes. Tina loved Al whatever he looked like, which was just as well really considering some of the rather bizarre effects he managed to produce.

    Becky had been a bit irritated with her as well, Tina you are so last decade, nay century even! she would say, rolling her large eyes dramatically. Becky too was racing confidently and exuberantly ahead. Her intriguing contributions to the reality play never failed to amaze Tina. Her own contributions felt stolid, words trapped in a big gluggy ball of last century energy, she had to work hard to extricate each one.

    It was nearly dark, raining harder now, wind-driven rain. Tina liked it, the rain complemented her mood and disguised the self-pitying tears streaming down her face. There were very few people in the street. Just the long line of shop windows, glass faces warmly lit, overhangs offering some shelter from the rain, though it wasn’t shelter Tina was looking for.

    Her long hair whipped around her face, wet blue satin clung to her slim frame.

    Sam had taken off unexpectedly and suddenly to Australia. He had been gone only a few days and she missed him. Dear Sam, his wicked and irrepressible sense of humour could make her laugh even in the blackest of moods. He too was playing with new potentials, forging new and exciting paths.

    The others are probably all communicating with their advanced telepathic skills right now, laughing at dumb old last century Tina, she thought morosely. In fact even last century I would have been so last century, judging by my spectacular lack of success at anything I have undertaken recently. A vision of her recent humiliation in the ballet dancing class sprang to mind. She winced and quickly blocked the distressing image of the dance teacher drawing her aside after class and gently suggesting she might try the Ancient Kuzhebar Motional Practices beginner’s class, to get some basic rhythm, before attempting the ballet. ….

    An elderly woman who had disembarked at the nearby gondola stop splashed by her, and, illuminated momentarily by the street lamp, Tina felt a flash of recognition. The woman turned suddenly towards her, smiled, gesticulated with her free hand, the other was clutching a large bag, towards some distant bushes. She mouthed some words at Tina, but these were lost in the wind. Tina waved and managed a reciprocal smile.

    She noticed a Positivity Robot parked in front of Samantha Lingerie, and found herself drawn towards it, 3D images of models wearing the latest in underwear fashions rotated in the shop’s window, their faces beaming irritatingly at her. These Positivity Robots had been all the rage in the early 2020’s, you did not see as many of them now. On impulse she stood in front of the robot, touched the screen, allowing it to read her energy. “negative 21” its glass face discreetly informed her. The words “I AM PERFECT flashed up on the screen as a suggested thought pattern to implement. Tina grimaced. I wonder how low I can make this damn thing go. The idea made her giggle and to her alarm shot the meter up to a positive 12. Bugger, a bad start!

    What am I going to do with myself, Mr PR, if you are so positively smart?

    I AM PERFECT…. I AM PERFECT …. I AM PERFECT ….

    perfectly grumpy, perfectly insecure, perfectly last decade, perfectly soaked to the skin, Tina watched as the meter climbed all the way up to 55.

    She glanced at the shop window, just as a smiling model wearing a minuscule open net dress and nun’s habit rotated by. She felt an inexplicable burst of amusement as the meter climbed to 57.

    #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.

    #693
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    He was climbing the steep path to the spring. His attention moving swiftly from one location to another, generating his human flesh body consciousness at each moment. At times he was not generating such a continuous movement and could appear in another place without having physically generated the objective appearance of the movement.

    He had no name, he had no necessity for it himself. One of his other focuses was aware of him as John, the Straw Man. That would be the intersection of their focuses. He smiled back at him as he was aware of their connection in that moment. Continuing his exploration of the surrounding, before generating the physical spring, he was also communicating with other focuses or other aspects of consciousness. He was also exploring the shift of attention in different mergences with different qualities of essences. Being dispersed he was part of these other essences also, though it is a rough translation of it.

    The movement of the path under his feet was smooth. The quality incorporated in the ground was facilitating his progression to the spring. It was not yet in his main focuses of attention, though it was close, some of his alternate aspects were already there and enjoying the premises and the non physical aspects of its reality. He added some mushrooms aspects in his surrounding as they were conveyed by his John aspect… they were connected to another of his friend. Oh! and a few ostrich eggs suddenly appeared ;))

    Yellorange green current of a snoot was swirling around some trees. The John aspect of himself was amazed at the beauty he was generating, and as he was felling Pashi moving her attention toward him in a softurplime mergence, this new aspect of consciousness manifested the spring. The ears of this focus were experiencing the different layers of its movement.

    #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…

    #581
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Aglaë had been reluctantly coming back to the games of her sisters, when Thalÿs, the eldest had come back from her trip.
    She’d had trouble with one of her dolphins who had fallen ill, and had been seeking advice from one of the healers in another distant underwater city.

    Eufrosÿn, her other sister was listening to her account, and was amazed at the similarities between her sister’s depiction and her own recent dream imageries. But Aglaë, who was usually very fond of such bizarre coincidences, barely did more than a few silent nods.

    Her mind was halfway here, and halfway there, with the mysterious life she had felt on the surface…
    She wanted to come back, and a sudden impulse made her leave her sisters without an explanation and rush to her spot of observation.

    #542
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    The old abbot Hrih, was coming back from the gardens of the Monastery, the soil dampened and muddied by the heavy rains of the season sticking to the sole of his sandals. Hrih Chokyam loved to be reacquainted with the rawness of nature, and the fluidity that the rain provided to the ground by transforming it into malleable mud.

    He was bringing back vegetables for the dinner’s soup, and was amazed at the fact that even though he had felt so close to the earth, barefooted in his sandals, he had not even a drop of mud on him.

    He had delayed his choice for much too long already, and the not so subtle pressing of his main confident Aum Geong to officially elect his successor was making him unquiet. He was deeply trustful of Aum Geog, and of his sincerity as a Holder of the clear Light that was being tapped into, channeled and refined by the Monastery’s spiritual endeavours.
    But Hrih was feeling that Aum Geong’s views were slightly too narrow for the heavy task he was wanting him to carry on.
    He was too good at creating structures and rules, and Hrih felt that even if all done in good intent, it would be taking the risk of chocking the great outburst of powerful energy that was lying at the very foundations of the Monastery.

    The young man that he had noticed a few hexades1 ago, though very discreet seemed bright and very dedicated to his task. He had been greeted by all, and had soon felt at home. Franiel, as he was named, was under the tutelage of Jog Lam, a very wise (albeit young) monk that Hrih had adopted some years ago as the parents had been abandoning him a young baby at the eternally opened doors of the Monastery.

    Hrih had made a decision. He would not play favourites. Seeing the blank black Meditation Wall, an idea crossed his mind. He would announce at the dinner that the monks willing to do it could do a short poem of 3 stanzas where they would express their highest truth on the Meditation Wall…

    :fleuron:

    1 On that part of the Duane (the planet where Mount Elok’ram is), time is divided in groups of six days or hexades, each being attributed to one of the Elder Gods: Ghört (Airs) Nærvel (Waters) Agnima (Flames) Selvaniel (Woods) Margilonia (Earths) and Lejüs (Forgotten). The names or the days are Ghordië, Narduë, Agduë, Seldië, Marduë, Shandië.

    Name Element Quality Hexade
    Ghört Airs Male Ghordië
    Nærvel Waters Female Narduë
    Agnima Flames Female Agduë
    Selvaniel Woods Male Seldië
    Margilonia Earths Female Marduë
    (Shaint) Lejüs Forgotten Male Shandië
    #439
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Leörmn the dragon had been retreating silently what felt like a long time ago. For most of the dragons, as they grew in age, needed to occupy more and more of their time in dreaming.
    But dreaming was not an idle occupation as human sometimes were prone to think. He was phenomenally active in the Unseen when he dreamt, and most of the times, he didn’t even have a dream corporeal existence such was the intensity of the activity, that he projected in many many many different ways at the same time.

    At times, he slowly woke up, barely aware of all of what he had done. In one fragment, some other focuses of his friends were in an odd classroom, and were asked whether they had read some transcripts of a trance conversation with a dragon. At the beginning the pupils had felt reluctant to answer, but some bold hands had been raised, and he knew these people, they were closely related to him. The teacher had been telling them how different the energy was, and how intense, for it was not the same kind of consciousness… Of course, Leörmn knew all of that, but it was one of the many things that had occurred during his sleep. Because all of that was a reality, occurring in other frameworks, other dimensions, other scenes, but all of them were happening.
    And in another one, there was this young man who had just changed his name, looking through a sort of big flat glubolin at some parchment map that one of his friend had put in front of his eyes, and the young man was amazed at how close it looked like the map he had seen in his own dream, with rivers outlined…

    Leörmn felt immensely grateful for all of these personality essences exchanging with him, and enhancing and widening his own exploration, and he felt like he wanted to modify once again the cave. He would create some guest rooms into the cave for them, if they wanted to use them. They would be furnished as they wanted to, and reflecting what was their comfort, and dear to them…
    At Malvina’s request, he had already created one abode for Irtak, but now, he would also create one for the finckely Arona, the wandering Sanso, who in turn could invite some of their own guests.

    And so once again, the cave was transmugrified…

    #1313

    In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

    EricEric
    Keymaster

    November 9 th

    For Yurick, or perhaps shall we say, The Artist Formerly Known As Quintin this sequence of sequence of 911 has the signification of a reminder to be paying attention to self, and being present to himself.
    The last few days have been, in appearance, quite devoid of exciting new installments of the story, yet, we nudge him not to judge this lack of activity on his part as categorically as he has been used to do. It was a time of self-retreat, a time we have shared with many other essences, as all is connected.
    A very fine point which has been brought forth by Elias a few days ago (in Yurick’s perception of time) has been that you want to appreciate the process. His illustration was that of a beautiful flower bud that you hold, and that you don’t want to tear open, but rather let itself reveal its splendor, and also, its surprises.

    It has prompted Yurick to remember something, which had lots of meaning to him.
    Some years ago, when he was in Kyoto’s forests, he picked up an acorn, as he liked to have seeds or tree corns in his pockets. Back from his trip, in his home, there was this big pot of earth were an old plant had died from the summer heat, and he planted the acorn in it.
    And he waited. Till he had to move, some months later, having renounced to have the acorn grow at all, as the soil’s surface was remaining desperately flat. Perhaps it had rotten altogether. Before leaving the apartment, Yurick started to rummage with his bare hands into the soil, to look for the remains of the acorn he believed had rotten, only to find it perfectly healthy. And even more, it had grown lots of long roots.
    So he took it back home, where it was planted and still continues to grow at a rapid rate.

    Looking at the now big sapling reminds Yurick how that process of growing roots was important for the plant, as they were essential for the oak to be able to survive the winters colds and the summers heats.

    Such is the importance of these moments were inspiration seem to be scarce, or away. It is ever present, growing its roots very carefully inside the soil of your being, and expanding your connexions, redefining some, bringing new nourishments to yourself… The effects are not always immediately visible, but things never cease to move.

    Be prepared to be amazed by the colors of the flowers and leaves your seed produces, for as Yurick’s oak was an unusual kind of oak (a chestnut oak ), the very seeds that are in your pockets or waiting in the soils of your dream gardens may reveal their own surprises…

    #360
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    A trip to Salitre? Dory had asked them to come with her and see the pyramid… well what she thought was a pyramid.

    Yann had been thinking about that for a few days now… he wanted to see it now.
    He would wait, the time wasn’t here yet.

    — Oh Arona!

    The cat had jumped onto his lap, quite affectionately she was purring and lying trustfully. He was amazed at her letting go and allowance.
    He smiled distracted of all his thoughts.

    #393
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    ARONA MEETS THE NANNY

    Dreamily Arona wandered away from the cave, gently holding the sleeping Yikesy close to her heart. Mandrake the cat followed, elegantly attempting to convey the impression he was there by mere chance, and by some stroke of fortune happened to be heading in the same direction.

    Arona had no clear idea where she was going, or what her intentions were even. Still this was nothing new for Arona, who was a bit of an aimless wanderer really herself at heart. She pretended she was looking for magic, but really, she wasn’t so sure anymore what she was looking for.

    Wooha!

    Arona was momentarily rendered speechless by a vison up ahead. The most beautiful creature she had ever seen sat no more than 5 dragon-lengths up ahead.
    .
    Mandrake, she eventually whispered when she had regained her composure, What is this miracle ahead? Is this some maiden’s dream? A heavenly creature come to earth perhaps?

    A miracle sent by God to save you? suggested Mandrake

    His near naked body a masterpiece of bronzed skin pulled taut over rippling muscles.

    Steady on Arona, said Mandrake

    But you know I am no hapless fool Mandrake, to swoon over a handsome stranger.

    No, indeed. And might I enquire why for art we art speaking so oddly? asked Mandrake

    Buggered if I know, answered Arona

    Despite the bravado she managed to display at times, Arona was very shy, and would never have had the confidence to approach such a godlike creature. However at that moment Yikesy started to cry loudly. The god looked up from his silent reverie and smiled.

    Oh a baby, he said in a deep melodic voice. I love babies. He came bounding athletically over and gazed down at Yikesy. My, that is an endearingly ugly baby.

    This is Arona, stuttered Arona, I mean I am Arona, and this is Yikesy, and this is .. Arona looked blankly at Mandrake

    Mandrake looked unhelpfully back at her, with a rather sarcastic little smile on his face.

    I am delighted to meet you. Vincentius at your service. May I hold Arona for a few moments?

    Oh I am sure that could be arranged, snorted Mandrake.

    Arona glared at Mandrake and decided the time had come to pull herself together. I am so sorry for the misunderstanding, she said charmingly to Vincentius. The baby’s name is Yikesy. And certainly you may hold him for a moment.

    Vincentius held Yikesy in his strong arms as though he had been cradling little babies all his life.

    Look this is probably a silly question but you aren’t after a nanny by any chance? Oh no of course you aren’t, said Vincentius, apologetically, seeing the amazed expression on Arona’s face. I am so sorry, just wishful thinking on my part. Please forget I said anything and forgive me for my impudence.

    Well actually, said Arona, frantically attempting to remain calm, I really have no idea how to look after this baby and I did have a bit of an idea a nanny might be quite useful.

    Well this is a fortuitous meeting indeed then!

    But I can’t afford to pay you, she said sadly, unconsciously fiddling with her hair and fluttering her long thick eyelashes.

    Oh don’t worry about that small detail. I am sure we can come to some sort of mutually beneficial arrangement, and Vincentius winked at her.

    Arona drew herself up to her full height, firmly took Yikesy back and said; I will have you know if you are going to wink at me this can’t possibly work. I have no idea what a wink means. You will have to speak clearly if you have something to say to me.

    OH bugger bugger bugger! thought Arona. What is it with me and winking. Now I have blown it. BUGGER.

    But Vincentius just laughed good naturedly, and musically too of course. Perhaps we will just play it by ear then shall we? I am delighted to be your new Nanny :yahoo_big_hug:.

    #324
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    Yann was wandering about in a pet shop, looking for nothing in particular.

    Quintin had said something about inserting the shift now… well, that sucked… Yann was in a very bad mood, feeling like everyone was against him, nothing was going as he wanted to, and most of all he had lost inspiration. No desire to draw, or to write anything. His life was not fitting. Or so it seemed.

    Looking closer to the bird cages, and the birds inside, he was amazed at their similarities and their differences. Their shapes and sizes, their colors was the obvious parts. Their shouting also, it was quite messy, and stridulent. But what he noticed most was their behavior, some were just living their own life, proud of themselves and quite fearful when Yann was getting closer to the cage, and others were just flocking together like they couldn’t live apart. Some were singing, some crying, some just quiet and moving nervously or randomly…

    He went to the parrots room, it was written babies on the cages… they were like full sized parrots to him, very big birds!!! very colorful and impressive. But looking closer, they were not so healthy, their feathers were sort of dull, and even bad shaped and like the parrot had been attacked savagely :yahoo_thinking:. Not very impressive eventually.

    A few days ago things had become quite erratic at his work… he had felt a strong desire to change, change everything. First he couldn’t understand that desire and he resisted strongly, but soon he created some uncomfortable manifestations. Breathing difficulties, headaches, itching, and even boredom. He just felt the desire to tell bugger off to everyone.

    The birds were getting boring actually, he left the shop.

    Walking in the street among the crowd was kinda soothing his uneasiness… though at times he was like feeling what they were strongly projecting. There was that Muslim woman with her chador, and as she went right past him he had that twinge of anger against her, coming from nowhere, and as soon as he noticed that, he just moved his attention to his energy and it was over, no more anger or polarization. Was it his own feelings or was it from that young woman?

    Whatever, he just enter another shop, home shop, with little thingies and furniture… all these statues, the ones looking like 1920’s ladies were the most appealing… and there were these fairies also, wasn’t it Fiona who had told him about a dream where she was the fairy princess?
    :yahoo_daydreaming:

    :yahoo_alien:
    Oh! that pic… the man had a blue skin… with dolphins on his face creating shadows… the pic was a blend of sort, very funny, and the man was cute :yahoo_whistling: as was the shop assistant…

    Time to leave… he went off the shop and continued walking. Bright sun, fresh air, all was clearing. His mood also. He thought again about what he and Quintin had been planning. It seemed something crazy, but it also seemed related to what was happening in his life. Since Vienna, their relation had become closer and closer, and for the most part it was very endearing, very fun and also very intense. All these energies, all this creativity, it had to be part of a bigger picture.

    :yahoo_oh_go_on:

    Thinking about that, his friend Dory had told him about a bigger picture once, and he was teasing her about that… but now it was making sense. His abilities to remember his dreams had increased in a way, though most of the time he did not remember his dream in the morning. He’d noticed he could if he was just relaxing a bit and let his attention go back to that dream self of his… At times he had also some weird experiences about parallel realities and shift of perception, like the room is translucent and he can move through it in another dimension, very freaky that one :yahoo_not_listening:

    #323
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    — The legend of Mævel — (Part II)

    The young fairy princess, whose secret name had been forgotten, and thus her very existence to whoever had known her, grew up as a beautiful child.
    Mævel she was, and the youngest of the clan too. Her delicate features stood out of the many children that Jorg and Ilga, her human parents already had, and they first saw her as probably their most useless child, being frail and unfit to the works of the woods. But she’d been saved from a sure death, and that had proved to them that the child was some odd gift from the Gods.

    Mævel looking at her brothers and sisters, was constantly reminded of how different she was, as small and fair and fragile as a sparfly’s egg. She helped her mother Ilga as much as she could in the kitchen, preparing meals for the clan. Her parents did not know how she could ever get a husband, as she would never be much of a great cook either.
    So, she was feeling not fulfilled by what she was doing. She loved her parents, and sisters, and brothers, but there was something else that she did not know how to express.
    During the springing and sunny seasons, and even the rainy and icy one, she would go after her works had been done to the little meadow brook, and watch for hours the little rosy trouts dancing in the clear waters.

    And much of her young years passed, and she learned how to cook, how to sew and how to wash clothes and many other tasks that could help the family. She had improved much in her skills and could do wonderful adornments to her sisters and brothers clothes. But noone cared about the adornments, which would be useless for them. But they loved their little sister nonetheless, though they did not understand.
    Soon, all the elder brothers left the house, one by one, and the sisters too. And as Mævel turned twenty one, she was left alone with old Jorg and old Ilga.

    That day, her parents had offered her a pearl white ribbon, for her to tie her hair, and they had thought it would probably please her, as it was as useless a thing as their mind could imagine. And indeed she was delighted by the gift, and to please her parents, she had danced and sung in the night, barefooted on the floorboard, her shiny golden hair swirling around her, as they both loved her to do.

    The next day, Mævel went to the brook to wash some clothes, when she noticed a reddish bluish spark of light coming from the forest nearby. How strange she thought. Perhaps it is only my imagination. But soon, a plaintiff cry came from the same direction, and she was deeply moved by the cry.
    Leaving her clothes to dry up, she went to the forest, knowing she could trust her instincts and that no wild beast would harm her. Calling to see if someone was there, a voice called her, crying “here, here!”

    Behind some fern trees, she was surprised as she saw a wounded blue fox. Was it the fox that had spoken?
    — Yes, that was me, answered the blue fox
    — Oh, a talking fox! You are wounded, aren’t you? asked Mævel
    — Yes, a stupid arrow from a stupid hunter… I can’t extract it, would you help me?
    — Of course, answered Mævel, hold on a second.

    And she leaned forward to draw the arrow from the fox’s leg, holding fast so that it would not hurt the creature. She was just knowing what to do, as if she had done it many times already. Then she drew out her white handkerchief, and bandaged the bleeding wound, tying it tightly with her pearl white ribbon.

    — I must leave now, said the fox, I am greatly indebted to you, young lady
    — Will you tell me your name?
    — I am called Blohmrik. And may I inquire as to your name?
    — I’m called Mævel, but you can call me Mæ
    — Such a lovely name…
    — How come you are a talking fox?
    — I was not always in the form that you see now. This form is due to a curse from the God of the Forgotten, from which I foolishly tried to stole secrets when I was a young god learning magic.
    Ooh, so you are a god? Mævel was amazed
    — Oh, smiled sadly the fox, as you are also, though you probably don’t realize. Gods are not so different than what you think…
    — Oh, really? So there isn’t anything I can do for you, is there?
    — You have already done much for today Mæ
    Mævel was blushing… She dared ask to her new friend
    — And will I see you again?
    — Perhaps sooner than you know.

    #298
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    The City, year 2257

    Janice had just awoken from a strange dream, where she was watching big round cabbages being harvested in what looked like Quintin’s father garden. They were all firmly rooted on a black irrigation pole across the garden, and people were using strange devices to turn them all delicately and pick them afterwards. In the dream, there were black puppies too, sleeping in the straw of a kind of hut nearby. And she had seen another creature, and had been surprised first because it was unlike anything she had ever met, even in dreams. It was hairless and brown as soft mud, and was hiding in the neighbour’s garden. Then it had crossed and came to play with her…

    Janice was lost in her thoughts strolling on the way to the common dome, when she met Rodney, her father’s friend.
    They had been recently trying with her father Jacob, and also Qixi to connect with their shifting focuses of the Ancients, two centuries and half before their time.
    Some of them, they had found, had been playing a sort of game of story-telling and clue-sowing… (Janice was laughing as her father’s friend, the scientist Arkandin, always insisted on seesawing instead)

    Perhaps her dream was telling her that the crop was ripe, and it was time to harvest some from it. She told her dream to Rodney. All at once, he was quite excited and they started to feel they wanted to chat more freely. So they went into one of the Medraw Caps that was available and soon imagined a comfortable environment for themselves to explore more.

    Janice could hear Al or Quintin complain about how things were getting confusing.
    She tried to convey to both of them that they could be excited about it, as it was expanding their understanding, but they weren’t very receptive.

    ~~~

    Somewhere Al was saying to Becky
    — The more you try to fix it, the more confused I am
    — Hahahahah yes! Becky was answering, I guess so! Ahahahah! Al, what a fabulous dance of confusion we do… The Confundo Tango
    — Ahahah, yes!

    Al started again to moan:
    — So who’s dead, who’s the shapeshifter? Who’s the human, who’s the cat? :-??

    (Rodney was laughing, as for him, he could accept the confusion as much easier, letting him free to wander around!)

    Illi was a woman, a shapeshifter who shape-shifted into a cat, then, she died. Becky was saying (Rodney added mentally “Now, she is disengaged” as he knew that “death” was a confusing word.) She was an archaeologist
    — Okay, that’s cool, that’s what I thought, Al acquiesced. Then thought back of what was said of her and wondered… Anyway, it will probably find a perfect answer …
    Becky nodded
    — I got lost myself when two Illis appeared, and a grip-thing as well
    — Because I didn’t want the grip-thing to be dead! Al couldn’t help but laugh. That would have been too easy, like wiggling out. Not using your imagination within the context of objective imagery to sort out “things”…

    ~~~

    While Rodney and Janice were seeing that their other focuses were kind of stuck in their explanation, they had time freeze and both decided to come back to their “now” to start from their understanding.
    A funny thought had come to Janice, that she shared with Rodney.
    — Oh, the funny thing you know, about Becky having written to Sean
    Rodney nodded. Janice continued:
    — It just appeared in my mind just moments ago, at the same time you (well, Rafaela) inserted into the story of Malvina. That Becky would have been asking Sean something, and that perhaps it would have helped him talk to his father in the future.

    — Well, that Sean is SUCH AN ENIGMA! bumped Rodney a bit excited by the implications.
    — What do you mean? asked Janice, who just remembered that Sean Doran has a cousin named Dorean.
    — Who is he? Where is he? was asking Rodney now.
    Rodney was having a hard time remembering what had been inserted yet in the story about him.

    So Janice manifested the Wrick family tree in front of them, so that he could see better. She started by manifesting an acorn, then threw in on the grass, and it sprung forth in a little sapling with signs hanging from its branches.

    — Well, it’s all in the script, answered Janice, he’s Lord Wrick’s son.
    — Oh boy, I am in trouble again for not keeping up with the facts! Rodney sighed, and laughed…
    Janice laughed “So that you can surprise yourself again!”

    Rodney felt thankful for the sumafiness of Janice who was always prompt to display helpful hallucinations and reminders.

    Janice stopped the growth of the family tree for a moment and started to comment it.
    — See, in Becky’s time of the reality play, Sean is Lord’s Wrick son, and has just lost his wife Margaret, and got his two young children around their 10s.
    — When is Becky’s time then? Rodney wondered, I hadn’t though of that…
    Becky’s time for the reality play is around 2033…
    Then Janice had the tree grow again, and sprout more branches from Sean’s children:
    — …Now, Sean is the grand-father of the twins, except than the twin’s time is around 2057 if it had not changed yet. It’s so carefully woven, but it’s fun how it effortlessly came to fit in.
    TRUST AND ALLOWING AND GOING WITH THE FLOW cried Rodney and Janice in unison, in the realisation of how well all this was.

    Rodney was beginning to remember it all.
    — I just remember the part about Sean, so he is still a bit of a mystery
    — Yes, absolutely
    — We don’t really know do we why Hilarion didn’t mention him
    — Oh, there’s also the Margaret newspaper thing… Janice fumbled in her memory to find the proper link that would display the image of the newspaper cut just at the right of the family tree. Adding with a wink “with more dates to get bearings”
    — Ahahah, I’d love to have pocketfuls of ball bearings said Rodney who manifested a pocketful to distract him from the load of information. OH YES! he cried, I had forgetten about this! What an incredibly HUGE story this is…

    Rodney was squinting his dream eyes
    — So, Sean was into humanitarian effort after 2001…
    — His father actually I think, said Janice. He was a bit too young.
    — Oh OK, I misread, that’s hard to read!

    Then, all of a second, Rodney erupted in an uproarious laugh
    AHAHAHA, I had just forgotten to de-hallucinate these pince-nez spectacles! Now, it is much easier to read!
    Janice was laughing so hard, she thought she would shatter the hallucination with the wobbles of the soundless sounds.
    Then she added:

    Sean is born around 2000, a bit before.
    — OK, maybe he went to help the Tuaregs, Rodney was accessing some information now. Maybe he was the one who put the mummy in the locked room that India found.
    — You know I had something funny in store for the mummy mystery, Janice couldn’t help but laugh again. I imagined we could have inserted Old Manon, coming down to secretly drink from her old malt whiskey’s flask, and finding them messing up with her old dear stuffed cat…
    — Maybe the mummy was the same one that Dory saw in the oblong hole in the ground outside the cave, Rodney was still accessing flickering images swirling around his head. And Sean was there helping the Tuaregs and moved it to safety.
    Of course, years previously, Illi Fergusson, the archeologist had buried the mummy there too for safe keeping.

    Now, Janice was hooked:
    — Was it where Illi learned about shapeshifting tricks from the old tribe?
    Rodney noticed Janice’s funny remark and laughed before continuing:
    — The Tuaregs were conducting secret coleslaw experiments in the desert. In combination with sound and irrigation techniques, they were going to run the entire Sahara into a broccoli field.

    Janice was amazed at the cabbage “coincidence” and irrigation stuff with her dream of that morning. Of course she knew there where probably mis-interpretation of the imagery coming from Rodney’s visions, but something made sense.
    — Around which year? she asked
    — Arrggh I don’t know!… Then, taking a breath of dream air, Rodney said “1923”. When Illi learned shape-shifting trick, 1923.
    — It makes sense, said Janice who was now thinking of other dispersed informations about Illi Fergusson.
    — Yes, she learned from Dashine Ashara… Although who that is, I don’t yet know.
    — Wow, said Janice. She had felt a connection with the “da’sheen” sound. She continued: somewhere, Illi Fergusson has said: “my parents were aristocrats”
    — Yes, answered Rodney who was accessing again, they were, and they knew the Wildes .
    — And it was said too: “[…] a nurturing presence that reminded Illi of the maid she and her parents had in their cottage in South Africa”… like her parents were traveling a lot.
    — Ah, South Africa! Illi’s parents emigrated to South Africa with Sir Abingdon Portfellow, an elderly scholar on ancient artifacts and embalming.
    — Seems she knew John Lubbock too, said Janice again, reviving old data banks of information. Dates seem okay, so if she was around 30 in the Tuareg adventure, she could have met him.
    — Wow, said Rodney, this is even more interesting…

    “But we may sit at home and yet be in all quarters of the earth.” Janice had just summoned the voice of the naturalist and archaeologist. Rodney applauded “Lubbock said that? cool quote!”.
    — Yes, like Illi’s quote, which was from him “What we see depends mainly on what we look for”. I wonder if that’s one of your (Illi’s) overlapping focuses, said Janice

    — Well, Illi didnt stay long in South Africa with boring old whatever his name was, Rodney pursued
    — Yes, she was young with her parents. They were traveling…

    They were both amazed at the magical cooperation they were doing at that moment. Janice would have loved to share all of that with Qixi and Jacob, but probably their energies were present at the moment too, though not focused here.

    She then remembered something else:
    — Oh, and there is something else! Quintin’s dream of the woman detective. Let me fetch it she said, summoning now Quintin’s memory to talk to them.
    … by night, near a museum in London, in the 1920s. She was investigating a case of a strange disappearance near a small replicate of an Egyptian pyramid that had been put here for display. There had been an exposition of ancient artifacts in the museum, which had been recently unearthed by a team of archaeologists and graciously lent by Egypt’s officials. Strangely enough, the woman detective feels linked to the story, and is probably Dory
    Date fits again, she said in awe.
    — Perfect! said Rodney. She was of course Dory too, but in that focus she was Illi Fergusson… he slowed down, then said No! wait! The detective was another one of my focuses. The archeologist who stole the mummy for safekeeping was Illi.
    — Hmmm
    — Hmmm
    — So you are both the thief and the detective, the one who creates mystery for yourself, how interesting, giggled Janice.
    — Yes, and not only that Janice! Rodney was taking a mysterious air… I am the mummy too!

    Janice bust out laughing imagining Rodney in bandages. Yes, of course!
    Then, she had a name come with that: Apsh’un Shet she said, very self-absorbed.
    Now, that was Rodney’s turn to burst out laughing.
    — “I am not sure about that!”
    — Doubting my insights… mmm, how rude… Janice frowned then laughed again.
    — If you call me that, I may have to make you out to have a speech impediment
    — Sounds a good Egyptian name for me though, seems it means “Light of the Dawn
    — Does it? Oh that sounds nice…
    — Well, in some Egyptian dialect, yes. She was a Princess…
    — Hahaha! Reminds me of Aspen Shit. Rodney doubted Janice could be serious about that name, but Janice was now the one to be accessing some information.
    — Bit bossy Princess
    — Which dynasty?
    III rd, answered Janice, who fumbled in links of consciousness to find some timeline to project for them.
    — What year?
    Janice projected the timeline below then said
    — I’d say around 2657 B.C., in Ancients way of telling time.

    They both marveled at the splendid team work they had been doing, and hoped that the other focuses involved would be able to get some parts of their insights too.

    Rodney was seeing something else
    — There is also, a very fascinating link between Tassili in the Sahara and Egypt which is a mystery AND there is a connection with Egypt and Scotland too…
    Illi the gripshawk comes from the mysterious land of the Sands, south of the map fragment
    — We may unravel more than we think… Illi is an other dimensional focus of the Illi essence…
    — Yes she is. She is a connection too, being “lost” in the land of dragons after hopping through traveling portals…
    — Exactly
    — And they communicated because they are helping each other
    — Which is why she doesn’t always ‘fit’ into this reality’s energy configuration
    — And they have some difficulties at times with translations of other dimensional stuff
    — Yes! resulting in confusion!

    And they both laughed again, looking at the great tapestry of clues that was woven before their dream eyes.

    #261
    EricEric
    Keymaster

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

    It said:

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

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

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

    :fleuron:

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

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

    :fleuron:

    The City, year 2255 (%)

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

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

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

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

    Then she opened her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

    :fleuron2:

    Study on a Few Contradictory Beliefs

    1. GUILT

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

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

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

    2. FEAR

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

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

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

    DUPLICITY

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

    :fleuron:

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

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

    #167
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Sanso was used to travelling alone. He’d been exploring this cave on his own for several years now, and it suited him, on the whole. No need to confer, or compromise, or rush to keep up, or slow down to let others catch up. He could follow his own impulses without hindrance. He did meet others on his travels, but only at the cave entrances, or rather, the times and places that the cave entrances revealed. He never felt an urge to settle though at any of these places, always compelled to return to the caves mysterious and ever changing labyrinthine tunnels.

    The disembodied voices and coloured wispies were always with him in the tunnels. Sometimes one would be louder than another for awhile, then another would assume prominence. The bleakest coldest times were when he wasn’t noticing them; that’s when he found himself going round and round in circles, lost in the maze.

    The electric blue wispy had been around alot lately, comforting him with little explosions of pinprick blue lights, and a golden mustard yellow one. English, not French mustard, he reminded himself, although he didn’t think it mattered and wondered why he’d thought it.

    Sanso had been almost crawling for some time in a particuarly cramped and difficult tunnel; bent double for most of the time, his back was aching and he longed to stretch out. The thought of going back, retracing his steps, was unbearable, so he continued, and tried not to be discouraged.
    ‘Find something to appreciate, Appreciation is the key’ the voice of the blue wispy sounded amused, but in a kindly and endearing sort of way. Harumph, muttered Sanso, easy to say! It would help if there was something to appreciate!

    Just then Sanso heard another voice, muttering something over and over again. ‘… dragon egg dragon… egg dog egg … dragon dog egg…’ What the heck was that all about?

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