Daily Random Quote

  • “Psst|! Glynis!” the muffled voice seemed to be coming from behind the smugwort bushes. With a sigh, she plonked the unappetizing looking casserole on the table, making it look heavier than it was. Sighing again, Glynis made her way out of the open kitchen door with a slow heavy tread. There it was again: “Glynis! Shhh! Over ... · ID #4742 (continued)
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  • #4056
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      “I am going to have to buy a new bra before we can check out Elf school,” said Connie the next morning. “I only brought two with me and the straps are broken on both.”

      Despite Sophie’s quizzical look, Connie decided not to explain any further.

      #4037

      Yannosh had finished packing the suitcase. The Indian butler loathed more and more being in the employment of the evil and mad Mr Asparagus. He had no choice, the Asparagus cousins, Mr Quentin Sir, and Ms Tina M’am, were part of his undercover mission.

      This time, he had taken extra pleasure in efficiently and neatly packing a month worth of Mr Quentin clothes in a bundle, all of them in the tinsiest suitcase he could find.
      It would be a hell to unbundle, and a much bigger mess to repack properly. He hoped he would curse him as much as he did him.

      He smiled thinking about the gouda incident. It had only missed the target by a few seconds, he would do better the next time.

      #4028
      Jib
      Participant

        Ever since she had read H.G. Wells’ “Time Machine” when she was 12, Sophie had been obsessed by the future. Now being a sweet old lady of 86, you would think she had used her share of the future and for most people her age it would be true. The trend would reverse and they would end up obsessed with the past.

        But for sweet old Sophie, who was living in Eastend London, her interest in life was mostly fed by news of the future. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she certainly believed it was. And who better than a time traveller could send news from the future ?

        She had been interested recently by an article about the telebeamer. They wanted to make you believe that in 2035 it was still impossible to transport yourself instantly from one place to another. She didn’t believe it of course. If time travel was possible, beaming yourself should be child’s play.

        Sweet Sophie was not good at math when she was young, but she was good at puzzles. She had a knack with patterns and immediately see where the pieces fit together or not. The articles on that website were like puzzle pieces. All she had to do was sort out the facts from fiction and find her map to the time machine.

        Now that she had found this invaluable source of information, she could plan her next move.

        #3996
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on July 01, 2010. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org

          Dear FutureMe,
          The Absinthe Cafe
          Dawn and Mark had a bottle of Absinthe (the proper stuff with the WORMwood in
          it, which is illegal in France) but forgot to bring it. Wandering around at
          some point, we chanced upon a cafe called Absinthe. Sitting on the terrace, the
          waitress came up and looked right at me and said “Oh you are booked to come here
          tomorrow night!” and then said “Forget I said that”. Naturally that got our
          attention. After we left Dawn spotted a kid with 2016 on the back of his T
          shirt. We asked Arkandin about it and we have a concurrent group focus that does
          meet in that cafe in 2016, including Britta. Dawn’s name is Isabelle Spencer,
          Jib’s is Jennifer….
          The Worm & The Suitcase
          I borrowed Rachel’s big red suitcase for the trip and stuck a Time Bridgers
          sticker on it, and joked before I left about the case disappearing to 2163. I
          had an impulse to take a fig tree sapling for Eric and Jib, which did survive
          the trip although it looked a little shocked at first. As Eric was repotting
          it, we noticed a worm in the soil, and I said, Well, if the fig tree dies at
          least you have the worm.
          At Balzacs house on a bench in the garden there was a magazine lying there open
          to an ad for Spain, which said “If you lose your suitcase it would be the best
          thing because you would have to stay”.
          Later we asked Arkandin and he said that there was something from the future
          inserted into my suitcase. I went all through it wondering what it could be,
          and then a couple of days ago Eric said that it was the WORM! because of the
          WORMwood absinthe syncs, and worm hole etc. I just had a chat with Franci who
          had a big worm sync a couple of days ago, she particularly noticed a very big
          worm outside the second hand shop, and noted that she hadn’t seen a worm in ages
          ~ which is also a sync, because there was a big second hand clothes shop next to
          Dawn and Mark’s hotel that I went into looking for a bowler hat.
          Arkandin said, by the way, that Jane did forget to mention the bowler hats in
          OS7, those two guys on the balcony were indeed wearing bowler hats, and that
          they were the same guys that were in my bedroom in the dream I had prior to
          finding the Seth stuff ~ Elias and Patel.
          Eric replied:

          And another Time Bridger thing; a while ago, Jib and I had fun planting some TB stickers at random places in Paris (and some on a wooden gate at Jib’s hometown).
          Those in Paris I remember were one at the waiting room of a big tech department store, and another on the huge “Bateaux Mouches” sign on the Pont de l’Alma (bridge, the one of Lady D. where there is a gilded replica of Lady Liberty’s flame).
          I think there are pics of that on Jib’s or my flickr account somewhere.
          When we were walking past this spot, Jib suddenly remembered the TB sticker — meanwhile, the sign which was quite clean before had been written all over, and had other stickers everywhere. We wondered whether it was still here, and there it was! It’s been something like 2 years… Kind of amazing to think it’s still there, and imagine all the people that may have seen it since!
          ~~~~

          The Flights

          I wasn’t all that keen on flying and procrastinated for ages about the trip. I
          flew with EASYjet, so it was nice to see the word EASY everywhere. I got on the
          plane to find that they don’t allocate seats, and chose a seat right at the
          front on the left. The head flight attendant was extremely playful for the
          whole flight, constantly cracking up laughing and teasing the other flight
          attendants, who would poke him and make him laugh during announcements so that
          he kept having to put the phone down while he laughed. I spent the whole flight
          laughing and catching his mischeivously twinking eye.
          I asked Arkandin about him and he said his energy was superimposed. I got on
          the flight to come home and was met on the plane by the same guy! I said
          HELLO! It’s YOU again! Can I sit in the same seat and are you going to make me
          laugh again” and he actually moved the person that was in my seat and said I
          could sit there. Then he asked me about my book (about magic and Napolean). He
          also said that all his flights all week had been delayed except the two that I
          was on. He wanted to give me a card for frequent flyers but I told him I
          usually flew without planes ~ that cracked him up ;))
          ~~~

          The Dream Bean

          Eric cracked open a special big African bean that is supposed to enhance
          dreams/lucidity so we all had a bit of it. The second night I remembered a
          dream and it was a wonderful one.
          (Coincidentally, on the flight home I read a few pages of my book and it just
          happened to be about the council of five dragons and misuse of magical beans)
          In the dream I had a companion with magical powers, who I presumed was Jib but
          it was myself actually. It was a long adventure dream of being chased and
          various adventures across the countryside, but there was no stress, it was all
          great fun. Everytime things got a bit too close in the dream, I’d hold onto my
          friend with magical powers, and we would elevate above the “adventure” and drop
          down in another location out of immediate danger ~ although we were never
          outside of the adventure, so to speak. At one point I wondered why my magical
          freind didn’t just elevate us right up high and out of it completely, and
          realized that we were in the adventure game on purpose for the fun of it, so why
          would we remove ourselves completely from the adventure game.
          In the dream I remember we were heading for Holland at one point, and then the
          last part we were safely heading for Turkey…..
          The other dream snapshot was “we are all working together on roof tiles” and
          Arkandin had some interesting stuff to say about that one.
          ~~~

          There were alot of vampire imagery incidents starting with me asking Eric if he
          slept in his garden tool box at night, and then the guy who shot out of a door
          right next to Jib and Eric’s, in a bright orange T shirt, carrying a cardboard
          coffin. He stopped for me to take a photo (and Arkandin said it was a Patel pop
          in); then while walking through the outdoor food market someone was chopping a
          crate up and a perfect wooden stake flew across the floor and landed at my feet.
          The next vampire sync was a shop opposite Dawn and Mark’s hotel with 3 coffins
          in the window (I went back to take a pic of the cello actually, didn’t even
          notice the coffins). Inside the shop was an EAU DE NIL MOTOR SCOOTER Share, can
          you beleive it, and a mummy, a stuffed raven, and a row of (Tardis) Red phone
          boxes.
          I had a nightmare last night that I couldn’t find any of my (nine) dogs; the
          only ones I could find were the dead ones.
          ~~~~

          Balzac’s House

          The trip to Balzac’s house was interesting, although in somewhat unexpected
          ways. (Arkandin was Balzac and I was the cook/housekeeper) The house didn’t
          seem “right” somehow to Mark and I and we decided that was probably because
          other than the desk there was no furniture in it. Mark saw a black cat that
          nobody else saw that was an Arkandin pop in (panther essence animal), and Dawn
          felt that he was sitting on a chair, and Mark sat on him. (Arkandin said yes he
          did sit on him ;) The kitchen was being used as an office. Jib felt the house
          was too small, and picked up on a focus of his that rented the other part of the
          house. (The house was one storey high on the side we entered, and two storeys
          high from the road below). There were two pop ins there apparently, one with
          long hair which is a connection to my friend Joy who was part of that group
          focus, and I can’t recall anything about the other one. Dawn was picking up
          that Balzac wasn’t too happy, and I was remembering the part in Cousin Bette
          that infuriated me when I read it, where he goes on and on about how disgusting
          it is for servants to expect their wages when their “betters” are in dire
          straits. Arkandin confirmed that I didn’t get my wages.
          The garden was enchanting and had a couple of sphinx statues and a dead pigeon ~
          as well as the magazine with the suitcase and Spain imagery. Mark signed the
          guest book “brought the cook back” and I replied “no cooking smells this time”.

          #3955
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            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.

            #3947

            Mike wasn’t as courageous as his former self, the Baron. That new name had a cowardly undertone which wasn’t as enticing to craze and bravery as “The Baron”.

            The idea of the looming limbo which had swallowed the man whole, and having to care for a little girl who surely shouldn’t be out there on her own at such an early hour of the day spelt in unequivocal letters “T-R-O-U-B-B-L-E” — ah, and that he was barely literate wasn’t an improvement on the character either.

            Mike didn’t want to think to much. He could remember a past, maybe even a future, and be bound by them. As well, he probably had a family, and the mere though of it would be enough to conjure up a boring wife named Tina, and six or seven… he had to stop now. Self introspection wasn’t good for him, he would get lost in it in quicker and surer ways than if he’d run into that Limbo.

            “Let me tell you something… Prune?… Prune is it?”
            “I stop you right there, mister, we don’t have time for the “shouldn’t be here on your own” talk, there is a man to catch, and maybe more where he hides.”

            “Little girl, this is not my battle, I know a lost cause when I see one. You look exhausted, and I told my wife I would be back with her bloody croissants before she wakes up. You can’t imagine the dragon she becomes if she doesn’t get her croissants and coffee when she wakes up. My pick-up is over there, I can offer you a lift.”

            Prune made a frown and a annoyed pout. At her age, she surely should know better than pout. The thought of the dragon-wife made her smile though, she sounded just like Mater when she was out of vegemite and toasts.

            Prune started to have a sense of when characters appearing in her life were just plot devices conjured out of thin air. Mike had potential, but somehow had just folded back into a self-imposed routine, and had become just a part of the story background. She’d better let him go until just finds a real character. She could start by doing a stake-out next to the strange glowing building near the frontier.

            “It’s OK mister, you go back to your wife, I’ll wait a little longer at the border. Something tells me this story just got started.”

            #3946

            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.

            #3941

            In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

            “Oh, and I almost forgot, Dispersee” Master Medlik said in a hurry, as he was running late from another meeting in the next now.

            “You should take Master John with you, he looks far too happy in his transe work, one would think he’s trying to get his hands off the dirty work with the Descended. Some field work with you and Floverley would do him good, and you can use his knowledge of energy blending.”

            #3930
            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              “The writer is as slow as my aunt Germaine” was all that came to Godfrey’s mind.
              His aunt Germaine was a notorious for her gaps of lucidity during the family reunion cards tournaments, which made playing with her much less ludic that it should have been.

              “Truly, what I meant” said Godfrey, carefully weighing the next words to assemble in a coherent sentence (he’d been chastised playfully by the new maid already, who would pretend to not understand a word of what he asked her to do) “is that I thought you where talking about winter, not writer. Alas, the writer is not coming.”

              Finnley would probably have had a fit of bright clarity with that one, he smiled at himself proudly.

              #3914
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Liz patted Finnley on the shoulder. “Now, now, dear, I know it’s confusing, one moment confused, the next moment elated and bossy.”

                #3894

                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.

                #3870
                Jib
                Participant

                  He arrived early to the new world’s consuelambassy. He liked being spontaneously on time.
                  In order to go to this new world, you didn’t need a visa, only a new identity. The office was in a super mall. You had to get through the shops first. There were elevators to go to the next floor, and you had to change to a new one each time. Of course the elevator to the next level was always after a labyrinth of luxury or food stores.
                  Sam felt tired and sick just after the second level. Twenty more to go, he thought. He reminded himself of his grumpy meditation training and looked at the fire alarm. It would certainly clear the area. But might just render it too chaotic for his taste.

                  #3869

                  Sam woke up the next morning feeling puzzled. There was no apparent reason for it, so he thought it might be related to the new moon or to some singular configuration of space time crossing with the known universe. He scratched his 3 days and a half beard a few times. He liked the sound of it and did it frequently. Only then would he get out of bed and prepare some breakfast.
                  When he came to the kitchen, the tv was on. A certain Godfrey was speaking about an upcoming wave of migrants due to lack of rafts in the sea of confusion. Sam thought he wasn’t the only one feeling puzzled.
                  “Do you have all your papers ready ?” asked Al, already dressed up as if he was going to a wedding.
                  “I like when you wear your tuxedo”, said Sam. Al looked absolutely delicious. “And yes, I have all my papers ready. But I wonder… Why do you need papers when you’re asking for a new identity?”

                  #3862
                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    In the Void’s state, the Breathe of Story that was the source of the ten thousands characters took a pause, and convened with Itself to discuss the next course of events.

                    Soon enough, chatter started again, and It broke down the Formless Dream into a new Multitude of Itself.

                    #3846

                    “Are you alright, Tina dear?” asked Becky kindly. First she sounded serious and quiet, the next moment seemingly on the verge of hysteria, what was the matter with her?

                    “Rules won’t help much during the Imagination Wave, you know. This is all out chaos, I’m telling you! I didn’t want to think about it, but now that I am, I am wondering if all these displaced and irate characters are going to be following any rules? Hah!” she cackled wildly, more rattled herself than she was willing to admit.

                    #3837
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      “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!”

                      #3831

                      “Sorry to bother you again, Ed.”

                      This was a lie; Evangeline wasn’t at all sorry. There was nothing she loved better than to be the bearer of bad news and she was rather pleased to have an excuse to call Ed Steam so soon after their last conversation.

                      “The Cackle Insanitization Committee contacted me. Their spies reported that Gustave had a meeting with that awful whinging Bea woman from Cackletown.”

                      Ed was shocked. “Gustave? Gustave Butterworth, the scientist? He’s supposed to be working for us, isn’t he?”

                      Evangeline sniffed dismissively, eager to pass on her next tantalising morsel. She tried to keep the excitement out of her voice and sound appropriately serious.

                      “The other concerning thing is that the Contumacious Cackler is in town. There have been several verified hearings of him.”

                      “The Contumacious Cackler!” Ed’s horrified reaction was music to Evangeline’s ears, although she was not entirely sure who the Contumacious Cackler was or why the mention of his name elicited such horror. She decided to ask.

                      “It’s rather a sad story. His mother ran away from home when he was just 3 years old, due to his father’s incessant cackling. The Contumacious Cackler never saw his mother again and he grew up with an obsessive hatred of cackling. He vowed to put an end to cackling. He cackles so evilly that he stirs up trouble wherever he goes. His dastardly plan is to create so much resistance to cackling that the people are inflamed sufficiently to rise up against cacklers. He is reported to be responsible for the demise of cackling in 2 of the provinces.”

                      #3818

                      Evangeline Spiggot admired her long crimson polished nails before pressing the button for the Noise Control Officer, Ed Steam. He answered the call with a muffled “hwellflow?”

                      “Ed, are you eating peanuts again? Vangie here, just had a call from Muffin Mews, another complaint about the cackler, over in Cakltown this time.”

                      “Cakltown! I say, she’s frightfully efficient, she must have finished Bunbury already, I must see the boss about giving her a bonus.”

                      “Oh, I don’t think Bunbury’s finished yet, Ed, you know these freelancer chancers, they don’t usually stick to the plan. Hedging her bets, I expect, covering her trail. Most of Tartlett Terrace has been insantizied, but I haven’t had a single call from Croisssant Crescent in Bunbury yet, nor Pieman Park.”

                      “This mission is taking a good deal longer that I imagined,” replied Ed. “Might have to see if we can insantitize en masse at the bake sale next week at Lemoine Meringue Hall.”

                      #3807

                      In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        His mother had told him not to trust what he would see. Somehow she’d spoken as if she knew more than she wanted to tell.

                        After the mayhem with the quakes, and the meteor impact, he thought that was it. There was something more to the reality of these events.

                        But then, nothing could have prepared them for what happened next. “Bloody aliens?”

                        Suspiciously, everyone seemed completely hypnotized and blissfully eager to follow them wherever they led. He had tried to wake Yz up, she was usually the no-nonsense one, but she’d looked at him with vacant eyes barely recognizing him with a faint “Johnny?”.

                        He started to get really suspicious when one of the robots started looking at his behaviour, not packing like the others. It even tried to force him to drink water —dehydration was common in these airtight environments, it said. It was then it dawned on him, that there must have put something in the water. But for what? A Mars take-over?

                        How he was somehow immune? Well, for a while he’d collected the water dripping from the stones, and had analysed it, found it very pure. A few days ago, before the whole string of disasters, he’d tried to drink it, see how it tasted, and it seemed safe. Must have been why. By now, most of the stones he’d collected had dried up, and his water supply was limited.

                        While pretending to slowly pack his things, he was looking at everyone queueing in short lines, all very ecstatic to go to the implausible blue boot-ship surrounded by watchful Finnleys. The exodus had a very eerie feeling about it.

                        He could see most of the persons he knew, even the new ones, Prune cuddling a box with her hamster family, Hans, even that daft Lizette and the mines guy. The religious nuts were so stoned they were all following an obviously overdressed robot with a headpiece they probably took for their religious leader.

                        But wait… His mother? He hadn’t see her. Where had she gone?

                        #3800

                        In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                        Dispy was starting her own secret Descended Dissent Classes.

                        It was not long ago that she had a very sudden and all-encompassing revelation at one of her flights above the great tundra of Siberia, which she liked for some reason to fly over, counting the red spots made by the fly agaric mushrooms in the tundra.

                        She’d been very disturbed by the revelations about her assignment to the Mars mission. She’d genuinely thought she was in for the support of the greatest advancement of humanity since quite many decades, and to realize it was all a quite twisted experiment made her uneasy at her core. She had some profound respect for her teacher, and despite her usual impulses to immediately confront Medlik for the inherent contradictions in his self-professed compassion and wisdom talks, something in her had told her to remain quiet and observe. And more surprisingly, she had complied. And observed very attentively.

                        During her flight afterwards, the same strong impulse had told her to land in the tundra, right next to a very nice patch of red. Being ascended had the wonderful benefit she wouldn’t feel the bone chilling cold, and she could just immerse herself in the joy of the scenery, and at the same time felt all very quiet and full of love and, strangely, a sort of distant regret for not being able to feel more of the cold and the whole scenery. And in the silence, she had a sudden unraveling of reality like never before. She could see the contradictions she noticed, one after another, destroying every layer of what she thought she knew, only to be left as a silent, quiet and very aware presence. She could have stayed like this a long long time, but she felt the call for the next Ascended class, for which she was late, as usual.

                        She continued to ponder while she teleported back, and without word (again, quite unusual), formed the resolve to expose more of the truth she’d grasped. Create a fifth column for the Descended, something her old friend who liked spy fictions would definitely have loved to hear about. But for now, she would have to keep it quiet, and maintain her cover at the Order of the Ascended Masters. She’d worked quite hard (well, not as hard as many, but that wasn’t the point) to get to her coronation, so she now had a nice Light Clearance that allowed her to tap into the Coloured Light Rays. This would be helpful.

                        In the beginning, she’d thought naively that concealing her true motives and secretly recruit like-minded students would be terribly difficult, but to the contrary, she found the light to be very responsive and easy to bend into subtle illusions of the truth. In short, she could still lie very well, and quite effectively. As though the light helped her in her attempts.

                        At the moment, she just had one student, Domba. They were meeting out-of-body at a hut in Chernobyl. The place was actually quite nice, and teaming with wildlife and surprisingly gorgeous nature. The perfect hideout.

                        Her course, well, was a course in spontaneity mostly. She would help people question reality, and authority. Something she had been lightwashed to forget for awhile too.

                        Domba had a pure heart, and was full of illusions. It had been easy to recruit him. She had to start with what he brought to her. At the beginning, mostly quotes of spiritual teachers. She had to teach him to question and see by himself.

                        “The Buddha said that when we dedicate merit, it is like adding a drop of water to the ocean. Just as a drop of water added to the ocean will not dry up but will exist as long as the ocean itself exists, so, too, if we dedicate the merit of any virtuous deed, it merges with the vast ocean of merit that endures until enlightenment.” – Padmasambhava

                        That quote he brought was interesting. The idea of being a drop of water lost in the ocean was enough to make her lightskin crawl. Because it reminded her all too well of the manipulations of the ascended masters. Twisting just barely enough the Love stream, so that It would be redirected just were they wanted.

                        So they meditated on that for now.

                      Viewing 20 results - 281 through 300 (of 566 total)

                      Daily Random Quote

                      • “Psst|! Glynis!” the muffled voice seemed to be coming from behind the smugwort bushes. With a sigh, she plonked the unappetizing looking casserole on the table, making it look heavier than it was. Sighing again, Glynis made her way out of the open kitchen door with a slow heavy tread. There it was again: “Glynis! Shhh! Over ... · ID #4742 (continued)
                        (next in 13h 16min…)

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