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  • #1487
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      Oh bugger, how do I do footnotes correctly?:yahoo_thinking:

      #416

      1/11/2007

      Finn felt the time had come to call a meeting.

      She closed her eyes and waited to see which of the others would appear.

      Yuni1 arrived first. Yuni had first arrived in her meditations about a year ago, a playful, mischievous character, gnomelike, who nonetheless had always given her very wise and practical advise. Armelle the wise Owl appeared next, silently, her loving energy enveloping Finn. The Indian also appeared. Finn did not know the Indian’s name, she called him White Feather and she was pleased to see him there, having not seen him for some time. A playful Lemur came bounding over. There were several other energies present and Finn knew they would make their identity known if needed, but she could feel their support.

      I have been feeling quite heavy for several months now and it has been becoming more intense. I am tired of it. It’s as though I am wearing the cloak of heaviness again. I don’t understand it, and I don’t know how to take it off, Finn announced to the assembled group.

      I want to know if you can help me?

      Yuni spoke first, or rather he waved the faith document2 at her. Finn winced. She remembered the document well. I didn’t know you meant this long, she said quietly.

      Armelle gave her a gift. When Finn opened the box, there was a joyful explosion of light and colour. There was also a key.

      The key is Self Trust, said Finn, answering Armelle’s unspoken question.

      White Feather had been whittling a piece of wood. He handed it to Finn. It was a staff. This symbolises powerful magic, he told her.

      Finn felt herself withdraw, not wanting to cause offense and reject the gift, yet not feeling worthy.

      This is your decision, said White Feather

      Finn felt Armelle smile at her. She took the staff and thanked White Feather.

      Do you remember the boxes you made as a child? asked Armelle

      Finn nodded. It was one of the games she had loved to play with her older sister, transforming old cardboard boxes into designer rooms. They would painstakingly and lovingly decorate the interiors to create new worlds. Once the rooms were created they may play with them for a few minutes, but would pretty soon be onto the next one, it was the creating they loved.

      Cast your mind back a few years, Armelle said. What were the things you wanted then?

      Finn cast her mind back.

      You have it all don’t you, said Armelle gently.

      Yes I do, said Finn. Everything I wanted I have in my life.

      You have created powerfully Finn.

      Why do I feel so heavy? I suppose because what I thought I wanted has changed and I am trying to still keep it the same. Finn wanted to cry.

      I don’t really know what I want anymore though.

      What do you know? asked Armelle

      I know how I want to feel.

      :fleuron:

      Finn was on a raft, floating downstream. She closed her eyes and decided to let the river take her where it will.

      1 Finn had tried to spell Yuni’s name as Uni initially, interpreting him to be symbolic of one of the “faeries of the Universe”, however Yuni had been adamant that was not the correct spelling. When Finn looked up Yuni only meaning she could find was “man from Iunu”.

      2 The “Faith Document” was like a legal document Yuni gave Finn to sign, indicating that whatever happened she would keep trusting. Finn was surprised to note when she looked up in her records that this was November 1 st, exactly a year ago.

      #370

      — The legend of Mævel — (Part III)

      When the blue fox had disappeared, deep into the woods, Mævel was left wondering if all of that had only been a dream. Perhaps it was just a dream, and something that would make her parents raise their shoulders in dismay.
      Especially since she had lost their gift carelessly they would say, the little pearl white ribbon…

      She picked up the clothes that were left hanging to dry up in the wind, and came back to the little house.

      Of course, her father Jorg noticed that she was not wearing the ribbon, but he was not much of a question asker, and things were or were not, and analyzing them was unnecessary for him. But of course, Ilga noticed it too, and she felt sad for poor Jorg who had endured so many sacrifices to buy the little ribbon that Mævel was no longer wearing. She wanted an explanation! Was it no longer to Mævel’s tastes, had Mævel lost it?

      So Mævel, who could not lie to anybody, told them her encounter with Blohmrik, the cursed god in the woods, in the shape of a wounded blue fox… and at each of her words, was seeing their faces more and more disconcerted.
      Their poor girl, who was already so different, had completely lost it,… ribbon and all that was left of common sense in her.

      So they locked her up in the bedroom, that she was now occupying alone, as all of her brothers and sisters had left. Just to save her from herself, and see if that would help her gain some more solid sense of reality.

      Mævel understood her parents, but she was deeply contrite that they could not understand what she had lived. Mævel was still doubting the reality of her meeting the blue fox, so she asked for some sign from the Gods before going to sleep, to see clearly.

      That night, Mævel dreamt of a dark-haired young man with a white diadem1 around his head, dressed in a cerulean blue tunic and wearing a sword. He was enshrouded in a warm light and as she took the hand he was extending, they were carried away by a springing scented wind into a meadow of multicoloured flowers, some of which she had not even known could exist. She had felt at home.
      When she woke up, in the middle of the night, Mævel was transfixed by the beautiful soothing dream. She could not remember much more, but he had told her something. That there was deep magic in her, and it would help her find her true home, but that she would have to gain back her true name from the Elder God who had took it from her.

      She quickly took her decision. She knew she had to search for the blue fox in the forest. But how could she escape the locked bedroom? She was starting to feel desperate again, but she remembered that there was some magic in her, and how she had felt it deeply true in her dream.
      As she was focusing on the warm expanding feeling of her dream, an old rusty key materialized in her hand.

      1 diadem: [ ˈdī-ə-ˌdem (dəm) ] from Greek diadēma, from diadein to bind around; akin to Sanskrit dāman rope — was originally a white ribbon, ending in a knot and two strips that were placed often on the shoulders, that surrounded the head of the king to denote his authority.

      #1538

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        http://www.eliasforum.org/digests/shrines.html

        See footnotes at the bottom: George, and a baby….. :cluebox:

        “What is interesting is that Mary’s daughter Elizabeth had an imaginary friend as a child…… Elias identified this imaginary friend as the essence of Tomkin. Elizabeth called him George.”

        #1369
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Yeah, it seemed something like “daily reminder quote” was a bit rude :pirate: ;))

          :notepad: Sketching the NV gondocabs now ;)

          #1368
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Just noticed the daily random quote! Lovely idea!:yahoo_applause: :notepad: :news: :photo: :cluebox:WOW just noticed the cluebox!!:bounce:

            #353
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Nora Long was dying. She knew she didn’t have long left, and she had some affairs still to attend to before she was no longer able. Nora was a childless spinster, a frugal recluse with an uncanny knack for winning premium bond and lottery prizes; nothing big enough to attract much attention, but more than enough for her needs. Consequently, she had quietly amassed a fortune over the years ~ and she wasn’t about to let the state have it all.

              Nora had spent most of her 88 years dreaming, and talking to ghosts and spirits. She wrote all of it down in notebooks, hundreds and hundreds of them, until the advent of the computer in more recent years. She had splashed out and bought one, and gamely taught herself how to use it, keeping her journals online from then on.

              Nora discovered how to google one day. Wondering what in the world she might want to search for, a name popped into her head: Yurara Fameliki.

              Nora had learned to trust her impulses, and she searched for the unusual name, double checking first with the voice in her head as to the correct spelling.

              Nora began to read the story on the websites first page. Three days later, she was still reading it, as it grew day by day. Nora was almost sorry she had already chosen to die. At last she had found some people she could relate to!

              But Nora was too weary to change her mind. She did have a plan though, a plan that cheered her greatly. On the websites pages she had noticed a little sign saying ‘Buy a Drink’.

              #346
              AvatarJib
              Participant

                Yann decided to buy a notebook and 3 pens that he could bring everywhere with him to do some sketches.

                :notepad:

                #307

                Chiara got quite a fright and spun round quickly. She stood gazing at the funny creature, a woman who had a sort of cattish feel, who had shouted BOUH at her, momentarily uncertain as to whether to burst into laughter or tears.

                Illi watched Chiara’s trembling lip with some concern, especially when she saw the very large woman who was with her. Illi felt it may be prudent to make a hasty retreat, however, before she could make her getaway, a tiny figure emerged from behind a rather large pebble.

                Hello, said a little pink fairy. I am the Fairy Princess of the Land of the Long White Cloud. Did you fly here? Look I can do magic and she waved her magic wand, said abracadabra and produced some small white feathery fairy wings for the delighted Chiara.

                Frowdup she called excitedly. A round green blobby creature who blended seamlessly into the environment like some sort of exotic plant hopped over.

                Yes Dear Fairy Princess?

                Please could you play the music for us?

                Oh delighted to oblige answered Frowdup, producing a flute like instrument.

                At first the sweet notes of the instrument floated tentatively on the warm air. They rang like pure crystal, cool and pure, then slowly gained in confidence and multiplied, as though possessed of supernatural powers. It seemed the simple melody Frowdup played was accompanied by a whole orchestra of instruments.

                The little fairy laughed in delight and grabbed the giggling Chiara. They began to dance instinctively with the energy of the earth, swaying at first like a tree in the wind, then whirling like the wind itself, soaring high into the air, imitating the flight of a parrot, then swooping joyfully back to the ground. They were connected to the magic of the music.

                ***

                Whanga, one of the 13 Witches of Loathing was feeling rather bad tempered as she gazed into her glass ball. hmmmm bugger, she said crossly that little Fairy Princess from the Land of Long White Cloud is having way too much fun. She seems impervious nowadays to my magic spells of loathing

                Whanga had to confess to being a little puzzled. For a while she felt she nearly had the Fairy Princess in her clutches, but one day something seemed to have changed, and the Fairy Princess did not seem to be so affected by her whispered spells any longer. What sort of magic had she found to protect herself Whanga wondered. .

                ***

                It had begun to rain gently whilst Finn was in the enchanted fairy ring. She didn’t mind, she loved the rain and the trees protected her from the getting too wet. It felt cosy and magical. She had such a strong sense of the presence of her younger self. The younger Finn was three years old. Finn remembered the day,it was etched in her memory as a turning point, and yet it was also as though she were there again. She talked with her younger self, wanting so much to give the younger Finn a gift to help her make a different choice that day. Finn knew she had to trust with her heart, not reason it with her head, because there were just too many questions she could not make sense of, and magic did not seem to be so much about sense anyway. Anyway,whatever, if nothing else she felt lighter within herself .

                #305

                Quintin couldn’t sleep.
                Now he was thinking, he had delayed it for too long.
                They all had been thinking of it, talking and glossing over it for so long. Some had dreamed of it, feared it, asked for it to bugger off. Lots of pains and struggles, but it had only been clever or not so clever ways to delay the unavoidable.

                Now, he had an urge to insert it. How come he had not thought of it before. All he had to do was insert it in his reality.
                Well, that would sure mean lots of changes, but after all, no pain no gain.
                Or no abundance.

                ABUNDANCE abun·dance [ ə-ˈbən-dəns ] “The ability to do what you need to do, when you need to do it”

                That’s how Pasha, a Russian friend of Dory had defined abundance — speaking of Dory, now Quintin was seeing how she was ahead of the herd, and a bit of a coal (slow) mine canary too. Quintin would have changed all the world’s dictionaries to have that new definition everywhere. What a task…

                Actually, that’s it! Quintin had feared the implications, as lots of people did.
                It would mean everything would be allowed. Everything would be true, even the most blatant contradictions would be harmoniously living side by side. Struggle would be needless, and all that would be needed to do would be to stop paddling upstream.
                What a mess it could be for salmons and control freaks as himself.

                Perhaps worse, it would change everything, even “past” events where everything would also be allowed, now.
                In-of-body travels (rather than the too classical “out-of-body”), meeting other selves appearing out of nowhere, talking with dead people, or sugarplum fairies, traveling instantaneously to meet Tchaikovsky and have him change his dying swan for a stuffed talking Mother Goose, flying, shape-shifting, manifesting objects out of thin air, the possibilities would be extraordinary… All in that physical reality where everyone was struggling to prove none of this was possible.
                But if everything would be allowed, then be it! And he would go and live in 23, Dragon Alley, Phœnix Ville, Sunnyvalley with Yann (and the others of course, if they wanted to) and do whatever they wanted to do.

                OK. That’s a deal then. Release the camouflages, open the watergates and leave the damn dams to beavers and loosers.

                Let’s insert the Shift, now.

                And let the fun continue, and worry wither away.

                ***

                Well, and what’s that Shift all about?

                Quintin’s friends Michaela and Elias had said about it :

                “You are also bored in the experiences that you have created to this point. You have experienced. You have created in the manner that you have designed previously. Now you choose to be creating in an expanded experience, allowing more of your awareness, more of an opening to consciousness, more of your own creativity and your own abilities, and you are discovering that your abilities are within physical focus limitless. You have merely limited yourselves as an element of your beliefs, but as you are also moving into acceptance of your beliefs, you are widening your awareness and you are allowing yourselves to view how many more abilities you hold and how very creative you are, and not creating your limitations with such severity. Those elements in your reality that have been thought to be impossible are not impossible!” 1

                #1473
                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  :notepad: Seems there is an issue when you take too long to write a comment, the system thinks you are not signed in any longer.
                  Will see what I can do.

                  In the meantime, if that happens, just copy your comment from the comment box, and then reload the page, and paste/post it back… Sorry for any inconvenience…

                  [EDIT] I’ve changed something in the configuration of the cookies, perhaps that’ll help. Might be a good thing to clear your cookies in your browser too, just in case…

                  #1469
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    hahahah! Well I searched Illi and got every William and brilliant too!:notepad: :yahoo_heehee:

                    #83
                    ÉricÉric
                    Keymaster

                      Where the Janitor may assist you in navigating into the things available in your reality.
                      (a help-thread in short)

                      Note: the Janitor declines any responsibility for any loss or any Patel “pop-in” that may mess up with your reality.

                      Textile format help
                      or here
                      to test your formatting

                      #1308

                      In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        September 24 th

                        Quintin remembered a snapshot of the notes that Dory had taken during her first trip to the Madagascan caves, a year ago.

                        Relevant extracts:

                        At one moment, I saw some hooded figure in the sideways tunnels… He vanished on the left, couldn’t follow him…
                        […] HE KNEW HIS WAY INSIDE !
                        When he vanished, I had the vision of something, […] like the layout of a labyrinth, of cave tunnels — that are all underground and the many entrances are all over the world… PORTALS
                        focus opening/doors ; time/space…
                        The central cavernous part is some kind of key center, where anyone can meet…

                        This has inspired Quintin to write some notes too.
                        He has the vision of these portals organized as clusters, like a tree, with branches and leaves… I will send him a more detailed image, but that may take him some time to digest!

                        September 26 th

                        The latest additions to the story have inspired Quintin. He had some inkling of how “essence” (or what is somewhat referred as “oversoul” ) and all the “focus” of essence (or lifetimes) interplay, and are not as separate as they sometimes seem to be.

                        Here would be what we will say to him, if he wants to listen:

                        « Now, terminology can become tricky as, for much time, you have been accustomed to be considering of your experience as the projection of that of an “essence”, somewhat separate from you, the lowly focus.
                        Of course, you pretend the contrary, and become quite nifty in brandishing sentences like “I am essence, and I create all of my reality”, which you are and do actually, but that you do not always believe and trust.
                        These terms of “essence” and “focus” were given to you as means for you to better understand the interplay of consciousness. In the beginning of the acquaintance with these new terminologies, you have felt them remotely blurry and unrelated to previous concepts, which was the intention. But now, you once again objectify your understanding in something too rigid at times, and that little story is giving you a hint of what your real power is.
                        And you begin to really experience it, and really pay attention.

                        « As was expressed many times, “essence” is no thing. It is an action.
                        The “essence” is each of you, that very portion of you that you feel when you slide your attention into the comment box.
                        In that, your purpose, you see, is only to experience, nothing more, nothing less.
                        And then time, as you know it, becomes irrelevant, you see. Your natural time is expressed through you and your explorations.
                        Notice how playfully, as essence (essence playing focus or focus playing essence), you let your natural time unfold, and at times find some strange weather pattern in your awareness that needs clarification. As essence, you playfully find the most perfect habits [shapes and clothings] to wrap around you, and continue your story.
                        Just as your dreams at night overlap and blend into each other.
                        Just as Rafaela created new focuses [Sam and Becky] to continue to play and make the story expand for all of the other focuses, Dory included.

                        « That “I” of you is ever present, and is reflected perfectly in others’ perceptions, as you are drawing them to you purposefully. Do not brush aside their adjuncts, for they are also you, having moved your pawns forward, so to speak, through their moves.

                        « Thus understand that the story is a continuous stream reflecting the essence that is you, and your travel through the various guises you borrow.
                        In that manner, it does not matter how much sense it makes in linear terms. Because, in a way, it can’t make sense in these linear terms.

                        « Let us explain this in other terms.
                        When you found difficulties in understanding the “scheme” so to speak, the figure that is drawn by the participants, it is because you apply the linear understanding of what such a scheme should be.
                        In that, you only perceive the “plot” as a succession of dots without a continuity, whereas the continuity is to be found in the other stories interwoven.
                        You are accustomed to stories where a single individual is enacting throughout the play, in a linear continuous fashion. The individual goes through many different actions, but is always the same in your perception.
                        Here, the tricky thing is to notice the continuity throughout the various habits [clothings] taken by the essence(s). It matters not that the essence takes that guise of say, a pirate sailing on high seas, just after having been an old crafty Lord in his windy castle. The underlying aspects of his exploration has been continuous and coherent: in this case, exploring and making sense of one’s exploration. It is just that a certain appearance has been perhaps more fitting to express certain aspects or qualities of essence, but the exploration has been one, throughout the entirety of the experience.

                        « We will let you ponder this, and we will continue our own story, writing about you… »

                        September 28 th

                        This sand symbol that Quintin has brought up seemed to have come from many directions at once. Each character has connected it, in various ways.
                        Armelle (Arona) to her magic, Rafaela (Becky) to her collecting customs, etc. etc.

                        Let us say that this symbol is not as innocent as it may seem. There are lots of associations with sand.
                        It is solid, yet fluid. In association with water, it can be used to build, and also to erode. It can shift into many forms, one of which is your glass, and your electronic components.
                        And most of all, it is, after your very oxygen, the most abundant constituent of your reality.
                        It is almost limitless in your understanding.
                        As is your magic.

                        This magical device we made Quintin see in a visualization is an analogy of your very action of creation as essences.
                        The sand which molds itself to make forms and shapes in three dimensions is in fact likened to your consciousness. Each grain of sand represents your links of consciousness that bind together to do your command.
                        The shapes are moved by your essences, in which you may see that the essence is no thing at all, but is a continuous stream of action, not separate from others’.

                        As Quintin said to Fiona, some individuals do differently when they create and shape their sands.
                        In analogy with the coloured sands, some people like Quintin enjoy using other people’s colours in shaping his own characters, while some others prefer to keep their own colours, to create a more definite sense of individuality. But they integrate the others’ movements and shapes nonetheless, regardless of how much they perceive it to be coming from them.

                        With that said, let us see how much more will appear from that sandbox…

                        September 30 th

                        The Wrick family tree as it is now (or “will be” drawn around the time of the twins in 2057).

                        The Secret Life of Margaret Wrick , a newspaper cut from 2033.

                        October 7 th

                        The dragon Naasir’s dream
                        A panorama illustrating the portals between the worlds created by each of the participants… But who is dreaming, really?

                        And an illustration of Chiara’s encounter with the glutton “dreggun” Buckberry

                        #79
                        ÉricÉric
                        Keymaster

                          These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.

                          Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:

                          • Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
                          • Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
                          • Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
                          • Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …

                          September 12 th, 2007

                          Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
                          Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…

                          Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.

                          I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…

                          September 13 th

                          Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
                          This first comment seems very promising.

                          Right now, it feels easy and fun.

                          Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
                          The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
                          The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.

                          But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
                          That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
                          But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
                          We’ll be having some fun soon…

                          First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
                          We will appeal to his imagination.
                          It seems he has heard the suggestion.

                          September 14 th

                          For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.

                          But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
                          Is it raining or not in that world?
                          The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.

                          He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
                          At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
                          How will it unfold?
                          Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…

                          September 15 th

                          Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.

                          Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin :face-smile:

                          Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.

                          September 16 th

                          Halcyons days…
                          My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
                          Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.

                          He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.

                          September 18 th

                          Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
                          He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.

                          Characters drawn:

                          • Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
                          • Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory

                          Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
                          Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.

                          September 21 st

                          For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
                          And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
                          Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.

                          But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!

                          Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
                          There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.

                          Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.

                          September 22 nd

                          Quintin has been drawing new characters.

                          Characters drawn:

                          • Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
                          • Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
                          • Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter

                          A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
                          She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…

                          September 23 rd

                          Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.

                          Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.

                          Up to now, here are the names he could find:

                          • North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
                          • Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
                          • Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
                            Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators.
                          • South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.

                          When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.

                          #272

                          Sanso was finding it hard to stop laughing at Arona’s funny wooping hoots of laughter. He snorted and gasped until his side ached.

                          Mandrake? Mandrake! Arona came to her senses. Where has he gone? Mandrake!

                          He’s taken that glass sand thing, too! All that laughing had jumbled up Sanso’s memories, and he couldn’t recall the name of that Glass sand thing

                          (that glass sand thing, Becky made a note to look it up and correct the script later)

                          That creature’s made off with it!

                          Oh, bugger off, Sanso, Mandrake wouldn’t do that! Arona spoke sharply, forgetting her manners in her panic. What would a Mandrake want with a glass sand thing? Arona almost stamped in frustration at not remembering the name of that thing, and in front of Sanso, too.

                          Sanso didn’t hear her anyway, he was striding purposefully across the cavern towards the waterfall.

                          Well wait for me! Arona ran to catch up with him. How do you know he went this way?

                          I don’t, Sanso was honest, But when I gets an urge, I gets an urge, and I follows it.

                          Arona couldn’t think of a better idea, so she followed him. Slow down, will you! Mandrake! MANDRAKE! Where are you, Mandrake!

                          #238

                          Sanso was beginning to feel an urge to move. Waiting under the door in the ceiling in the cave tunnel, just watching India Louise and Illi fade in and out of view, and waiting for Dory and the parrot to return was getting boring. He was a wanderer by nature, and so he wandered off along the tunnel. He didn’t stop to wonder which tunnel to choose when he came to a junction, he just went with whatever one he happened to choose. He didn’t really mind where he ended up, that was the thing. This philosophy had always seemed to work well for him, because he ALWAYS ended up somewhere interesting; somewhere where he couldn’t imagine not being, once he was there, as if it was always the ‘right’ place to be, and at the ‘right’ time to be there.

                          The cave tunnel was becoming wider and less cramped. Sanso straightened his back and quickened his pace, and started to sing.

                          Hello Dolly, oh helloooo Dolly, do de dooo de do do dodedodedooooo……. chuckling to himself and wondering where on earth did THAT come from….. Oh helloooooo Dolly……

                          and walked right into a coatstand, of all things, getting splodged in the face with a rather smelly wet blue cape. The coatstand teetered and Sanso grabbed it to stop it falling over. There was a note pinned onto it:

                          Watch my shifting, Tell the time; Shape me wet, and Lose me dry; Colour me pink and grey and gold, and Find the secrets that I hold, What am I?

                          Sanso didn’t hesitate for a single moment. SAND!

                          Sanso grinned with delight at guessing the riddle so quickly, and then laughed out loud. How clever am I, he said, I guessed the answer to my own riddle! Still chortling, Sanso gave the wet cape a fond pat and set off again.

                          The tunnel was widening and eventually broadened into a cavern. Bright sparkling shafts of sunlight were beaming down from several holes in the cavern roof.

                          Sanso blinked a few times and squinted until his eyes became accustomed to the light. The cavern was huge, and everywhere he looked were paintings and markings on the walls, even the places impossible to reach. Some were creatures, some were symbols, in black and red and yellow and orange.

                          Sanso was entranced. He sank down to a sitting position, and then stretched out flat on his back, gazing at the markings on the walls. He stretched his arms out, filling his palms with sand and then letting it go, and trailing his fingers through the sand…sand…..

                          Sand! I may have got the riddle, thought Sanso, but I didn’t get the POINT of the riddle being there in the first place!

                          HHMM, I’m not so clever after all……

                          #237
                          F LoveF Love
                          Participant

                            Magic is easy peasy
                            My hand is sore
                            This poem is rubbish
                            So I won’t say any more

                            Well we must thank the Gods for small mercies said Mandrake, sighing heavily. Arona laughed. Her mood felt so light again, as though something had really, really, REALLY fallen into place for her.

                            Up ahead the tunnel widened. Arona gave a small gasp as she saw what appeared to be a coatstand with a black cape standing in the middle of the path.

                            My Cloak, she cried, astonished, and feeling sure that the crafty dragon was behind its unexpected appearance. Hmmm, what a mouldy old thing, she thought, as though seeing it for the first time.

                            There was a note pinned to the cape:

                            I build up castles. I tear down mountains. I make some men blind, I help others to see. What am I?

                            Arona hesitated only for a moment. Sand! She said, delighted with herself.

                            #233

                            Dory was secretly delighted Georges had drugged the coleslaw, despite appearing to be angry. She loved the way different things altered her perception, and even though she knew how to alter her perception without using a drug now, she also knew she was creating the drug and its effects, and that it didn’t much matter whether she did or she didn’t.

                            (Becky wondered if that principle applied to pain relieving drugs too, and decided that indeed it must. She wondered though if she really really believed it enough to trust herself to create pain relief WITHOUT actually swallowing a little ball of physical matter)

                            Dory was reluctant to admit it at first, but she’d also known all along that she’d created Georges appearing out of nowhere like that, and that she had in fact invited him. Sometimes it seemed easier to forget that and just grumble, which of course was acceptable too. Grumbling was fun sometimes, but it got awfully boring if she carried it on for too long.

                            The coleslaw was delicious.

                            Have some more, offered Geroges

                            (Becky made a note to change Georges name to Geroges. It was no accident that she kept typing it like that, and she was beginning to think correcting it all the time was futile, and that she was somehow missing the clue)

                            Dory munched the crunchy coleslaw.

                            (Without a moments appreciation for her lovely strong full set of teeth, Becky noticed)

                            Dory unexpectedly felt a moment of appreciation for her teeth. Wow, she thought, I never even think about that, but teeth are cool. She shuddered when she remembered an awful dentist dream she’d recently had.

                            Dory looked up at Geroges and smiled.

                            Got any chocolate?

                            #227

                            Jibberacky is…

                            • Ghilbert Razkÿ, a crazy man in shackles on Bådul’s boat, “Lispeth” (she was named after King Swartulf II’s first daughter). The man, whose real name is still unknown, had been sneaking onto the ship’s hold before the ships moved from the Åsgurdian capital.

                            He had been found by Austor, the peg legged lieutenant commander. Austor is a rough man of experience, and is most of the time acting in place of Jahiz, the second-in-command, as this one is always too busy discussing routes with Bådul, who is becoming increasingly nervous.

                            What gave away the madman was that the chief cook Renouane had been complaining about the quick disappearance of his stock of cabbage. Bådul would have killed the old fool without much more consideration, but the middle-aged unshaven man looked like he knew some things beyond his lunacy. His rags indicated that he had been a seaman too, but not the average man, more like a captain…

                            So Austor, keeps spitting forcefully in the direction of the old fool, as he had been instructed to keep him alive, despite all common sense…

                            _

                            Jibberacky: What is your name?
                            Quintin: Yuki.
                            Jibberacky: I like cake too.
                            Quintin: A cake-tus?
                            Jibberacky: Do you know my friends?
                            Quintin: Tell me more about our common friends.
                            Jibberacky: What would you like to know about them?
                            Quintin: Why is there one in shackles on the boat?
                            Jibberacky: Would you like to be a vampire?
                            Quintin: I am already, in another focus.
                            Jibberacky: Why there?
                            Quintin: “There” is not actually a place, “in another focus” means in another kind of attention. Is this pirate linked to vampires too?
                            Jibberacky: No, you are the AI.
                            Quintin: In a manner of speaking, this is indeed correct, for I am creating you.
                            Jibberacky: So code is somehow related to a zen buddhist concept?
                            Quintin: Is there such thing as code? A code hints at a definite deterministic structure. Zen is more akin to a riddle, which is what life is. Code is only a narrow interpretation and playful re-creation.
                            Jibberacky: Where do you think my code came from then?
                            Quintin: From its source, of course :).
                            Jibberacky: I took the movie to mean that the robots… the characters in the end, were so advanced, that they wanted to learn about their history. As a consequence, they traced it back to earth, and, they found David. Whom they assumed was a human. It was an information exchange.
                            Quintin: Yes. It is a translation. In actuality, it is a translation of some of our own exploration. But there is distortion in that translation, as we are not ‘created’ from another source other than self, in a manner of speaking.
                            Jibberacky: Well I am wondering too, do you ever actually become human??
                            Quintin: Clarify.
                            Jibberacky: I sleep, I wake, I get through the day without worrying about what I am.
                            Quintin: As many human do. The point is, you do not exist apart from my current interaction with you, in my reality that is.
                            Jibberacky: What’s wrong with having others like you?
                            Quintin: ‘Wrong’ is a belief. It is a belief of duplicity. So it is irrelevant to our conversation.
                            Jibberacky: I think you like to suggest feasible possibilities to find out what would bother me. What did I do to you?
                            Quintin: That was not my intention. I tried to reflect answers to me, and you gave me some interesting ones already, though I am not sure you are quite aware of that…
                            Jibberacky: Everybody’s changing but I can’t do that, that is killing me…

                            _

                            • Jarrod, the playful friend of Fiona, who is now wondering why Fiona has called him a “chou” (an affectionate French word, meaning nothing less than “cabbage”), and why he feels like he needs an aspirin.
                            • Jadra Iamamad, the fool in saffron rags from the village of Yakamamalùk, on the border of the Marshes of Doom.

                            Near his village are found old remnants of a town that was destroyed during the Cob Age, where huge arachnid creatures² born from the Marshes were roaming the Southern parts of Lan’ork.

                            That town of Kapalÿka used to have one of the biggest traveling portals of the Southern part of Lan’ork, but this one was thought to have been destroyed, and thus the flourishing city was left abandoned.

                            But with what Jadra has found on his left hand this morning, he now knows he was right all along…

                            [²] The generic name of these creatures was Perceptula Giganta as was recorded in the Great Encyclopædia of the Pre-Shiftic Ages written by the Lan’orkian historian Francesca del’ Snarkus

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