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  • #1314

    In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      December 3 rd

      ( Hey, that’s 12.3, might be a hint for growth… Yurick)

      A communication about coordinate points, and how to travel between idea clusters

      As the story starts to develop in a rapid and very intertwined manner, much like waves in the ocean, overlapping and rippling from and to many directions, Yurick became concerned that it may be difficult to keep track of, or rather to retain an ability to graciously navigate in it.

      Let us imagine for a moment. Take your own life. It is composed of a multitude of moments. Your construct of linear time gives you the impression that there is a continuous succession or stream of moments.
      In a manner of speaking, it is easier for you to grok the concept of multiple points of attention for your naturally associate them with your space. You can easily envision your many focuses happening all at once in a variety of places, towns or countries, and having a possibility to zoom in and out, so that to encompass more than your single current focus.
      But what you do in engaging your conceptualization with your focuses would be equally valid were you to engage it in relation to that single focus that is you, in all of its moments of actualization.
      But that would be far less familiar, as you identify quite strongly with that construct of time.

      As that story unfolds, you discover that there are an infinity of points of attention dispersed in many many comments, and one comment can include many more than one point of attention itself. What you would be tempted to do, for it is something that is very automatic in your current associations, would be to attempt to draw lines between the points, to recreate a linearity, and thus facilitate your understanding of a certain action.

      This is unnecessary and within your current movement of expansion of awareness would be counterproductive.

      But you are familiar with that concept of coordinate points. For most of you, you once again associate them strongly with the space continuum, but they could be used in many many other situations. That story being one of them.
      The coordinate points are in a manner of speaking, conglomerate of very coherent energy; they would not be “points” per se, but rather high concentration of these points of attention that your attempt to link together.
      As such, they become the links that you are in search of, for in that drawing of energy points of similar expressions, they also become passageways between the associations that the points are linked to.
      As a matter of fact, the “point” that you come to identify to the concentrated cluster of points would rather be a tone representative of that coherent energy that you can use to activate the links contained within that cluster of points.

      That would be the reason why Yurick, in coming to understand that concept, has slightly adapted the original cloud of tags in the story, so that it can expand and be used to access the coordinate points that the tags are, quite simply.

      #501
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        Arona finally managed to fall into a restless sleep.

        She dreamt she was walking down a narrow alleyway between a row of old brick houses. A woman hanging multicoloured shawls on a washing line called out to her.

        Where are you going? asked the lady. Are you lost or something? Do you need some co-ordinate points?

        oh no, said Arona, I am just checking out the other side. I heard there is chocolate over there. It is through that gate I think.

        The lady recoiled in horror. The other side! NO, you don’t want to go to the other side. I went to the other side once and I was never the same again. They all say I am mad now. No stay here and help me with the laundry.

        Arona hesitated. A rabbit, a lynx and a toad rushed down the alleyway. Woooooo Hoooooo, they shouted. We are going to the other side toooooooooooooo.

        Mad, said the woman shaking her head, completely bonkers I am afraid, and she threw fairy dust on Arona.

        :fleuron:

        Arona wakened from her strange dream feeling oddly refreshed. It was morning. She started making her way happily back towards the cave, anxious to see her friends again.

        #500
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          On hearing the scream Dr Bronklehampton jumped up from what he was doing and rushed towards the laboratory where the Mummy, or Sasha Goldenwort, was having her fifth session under the laser. The only other person with any medical training of note on the island was Nurse Bellamy, who currently was down on the beach climbing coconut palms. A ridiculous pastime in Dr Bronklehampton’s opinion, however a young native boy had taught Nurse Bellamy something called the frog technique for climbing palm trees, and she now seemed to derive great pleasure from skimming up and down and bringing him back coconuts. The problem was, he reflected as he puffed down the corridor, that they had far too much time on this island with not enough to keep them occupied for some months now.

          A smell of burning greeted Dr Bronklehampton as he rushed into the laboratory. Sasha was lying outstretched on the floor.

          Dr Bronklehampton, medical expert that he was, knew at once something must have gone horribly wrong. He rang the alarm located on the wall by the door in the hope it would raise Nurse Bellamy, and rushed to Sasha’s side.

          Sasha was dead.

          He could see this immediately. Her skin, which just a short time ago was a beautiful and youthful smooth peachy colour, was now covered in purple weals.

          He sat silently for a moment thinking, then calmly and deliberately walked to the laboratory door and locked it.

          :fleuron:

          Nurse Bellamy was indeed halfway up a particularly tall palm tree when the alarm sounded. Oh bugger, she swore. By the time she arrived back at the treatment center, Dr Bronklehampton was reclining in his office. So sorry, he said with an apologetic smile, false alarm. Hope you weren’t inconvenienced. Anyway, good thing you are here, I believe two of the new guests have arrived, you might like to go and meet them.

          Oh, he said casually , as though an afterthought, Sascha decided to leave early, while the hydroplane was here. She said to say goodbye to you. Yes, she is absolutely delighted with the results of her treatment.

          #497

          Hank, the saloon pianist, was hopelessly in love with Anna.

          But she had so many wooers, I hadn’t dared say how much he loved the blond dancer. For fear of public ridicule mostly, as he didn’t think he was very good-looking, with his horse-face… Not that she really cared with all these men having gone into her bed. But he couldn’t take the risk. Better a life in her shadow than taking a chance and spoil everything.

          He had always been here to care for her.
          When that young one had came to dance too, he’d been the one to make it easy for them. Or he thought he did…
          What was annoying Anna the most was that the newcomer would be using a blond wig and that might eclipse her. Of course, that wasn’t what Anna had said, but Hank knew her well enough to understand.
          He was the one coming up with that idea of Twilight as a stage name for the other one, keeping the shining Dawn for Anna. Like sisters, yet worlds apart. Apparently they both had found the idea great, and even if for Hank, Dawn and Twilight were different movements of the same seesaw, for Anna, it was pretty obvious that Dawn came before Twilight.

          When Anna had been fat with her blue-eyed baby boy, he had been providing her some shelter for some time. It was so obvious for everybody that nothing could happen between them… Anna was oblivious, trying to get herself a proper husband. She had almost convinced that Jo that he was the father. Hopefully Hank had thwarted the attempt. He had his own idea of who was the father, and that wasn’t something to be proud of.
          And Hank had better keep his mouth shut, as the guy in question wasn’t one to allow being tickled on such sensitive subjects.
          In the end, Anna got fed up with all his attentions, called him a sticky leech. How ungrateful…

          Now she was with that old bloke… A fat half-bald guy with long unkempt greyish greasy hair who had lost his wife, eloped with their former neighbour. The story had provided a good laugh to everyone who was well aware of it. But somehow Anna took compassion for that Manuel — who was nicknamed the Bar Rook due to his pressing penchant for alcoholic beverages.

          Hank was finding Twilight more interesting… Free of romantic bonds and dazzlingly beautiful as she was growing.
          Once in the beginning of her representation he had found her crying behind the bar, after having been hauled around by Anna once again.

          She had told him an interesting story about her wig. It was a gift from her mother’s foster sister. The two women had suckled the same Ol’ Granny Lucy and had kept very close over the years. But her mother’s foster sister had a tough life, and she made a business of selling her golden hair to make wigs. Twilight’s was one of those. A gift from this aunt, which was all the more dear and precious to her. She had said to Twilight that it would draw to her good fortune, and fame too…
          It was easy for Hank to imagine that to become true.

          #487

          Jo was looking at Mc Gaughran. He didn’t like him. Especially since he was so insistant at buying their ranch. It was not the price that was important. Mc Gaughran had offered them much already and Jo was a bit shamefull that he even once considered the offer. They had a little argument about that with Elroy, and he had felt very tore appart opposing his brother. He was very close to him and was admiring him so much.

          And he was feeling very protective toward his sister. She could do whatever she wanted, that was not the point. The point was he didn’t want other to bother her. And that Mc Gaughran was looking at her a bit too insistantly to his taste.

          He finished his whiskey an looked at the barman, Thomas. He was a very good friend of Elroy and him and was like a giant dwarf, stout and big red beard. He knew he could count on him to have a look at the man.

          — Have to go, Tommee, he mumbled. Be back later.

          Despite his disgust of Mc Gaughran, he also had some stuffs to check about the new man in town. He was feeling a bit unseasy as if some things would be unfolded, things that should better stay burried. He left the saloon like a shadow.

          #480

          Did you tell them about the, you know……Paquita asked Jose, lowering her voice despite the fact that they were alone.

          What? Oh THAT. No, are you kidding? Only a stranger would agree to live in my finca, Paqui, you know that! Everyone local knows about the… you know…

          What if they find it?

          They won’t find it, Jose hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. There had been weird goings on at the finca for years; much more so lately: it was increasing. Ever since he’d found that hole in the side of the large pyramid shaped hill, there had been ghostly goings on, odd sounds, peculiar smells, flashes of coloured lights, all manner of strange and disconcerting events.

          Jose Maria was glad he was leaving. He’d miss the goats, but well, he could hardly take them with him. The goats would be ok without him.

          He couldn’t venture to say the same about the two English dears though. Time would tell.

          #475

          It had been real hard since Momma and Poppa weren’t around no more. Twilight was four when they got shot dead, and she could hardly remember their faces now. Sometimes she had memories come to mind, this real pretty woman, brushing her hair at night. One hundred strokes, she would say, make your hair real pretty. It made her feel sad because she wished it were true.

          Her brother Jo, he was only ten when they got killed. He was the one found them. They’d been shot. Jo, he took it real hard. Sometimes he’d get this far away and sad look and Twilight knew he was remembering. She wanted to hug him, but he’d be all shut off.

          Anyways it was real hard to keep the ranch going after that. Her brother Elroy, he was the oldest. He was fifteen when Momma and Poppa died. So he took on being the man of the house. Sometimes he would try and boss Jo and her round, and Twilight would give him a real hard time. She was just jesting though, she knew he was just doing his best to keep the El Disperso Ranch running and she was real proud of him.

          It was real hard though. Winter had been hard. They all were fearing they might have to sell the blue bull just to keep the wolves from the door next winter. Elroy, he was right pig headed though about that bull. Jo would say to Elroy “we have to sell that bull, Elroy and Elroy would get mad and say “no ways we selling that bull Jo”. One day they nearly came to blows over that bull.

          It was the only time Twilight seen Elroy get real mad with Jo. They were real close those two. They were all close really. They had to keep together when Momma and Poppa died. Uncle Bart turned up at the news of their folks dying, wanted to take the ranch, but Elroy , well he got Poppa’s rifle and chased Uncle Bart away. Elroy said he would have shot Uncle Bart had he tried any harder to take the ranch. Twilight would look in his eyes when he told the story and she knew he weren’t jesting. A few others tried to interfere also. Somehow they all stayed together and kept the ranch.

          Elroy won that blue bull. It was real rare and very fine and people would pay plenty for a bull like that bull. Elroy said he won it anyhow. He turned up with it one day, and he was real quiet. Twilight saw him whispering to Jo, and Jo looked real concerned. She thought it best not to ask too many questions and so she kept what she seen to herself. But she couldn’t help but be wondering.

          Twilight wanted to help take the load off her brothers so she got herself a job dancing in the saloon in town. She liked to call it performing though. Sounded more high class. She watched the other dancers till she taught herself to do it. She would hide in the saloon and watch them. That was one good thing about not having a Momma and a Poppa. She could pretty well do what she wanted. She liked dancing and she knew she were real good at it and pretty soon she was the dancer everyone wanted to see. She’d rather have a Momma and Poppa though, truth be told.

          One of the other girls, Anna, she was real pretty too, got jealous and tried to get Twilight kicked out, said she was too young to be dancing . Anyhow Anna had a soft spot for Jo and so he soon sweet talked her round. Jo and Elroy were real good looking boys, and plenty of girls liked them so Twilight was pretty lucky to have them look out for her. ( Elroy said she should wear a blond wig for her dancing, like a disguise, and Twilight thought this was real funny. But she wore it anyway.) Anna got pregnant, and she said Jo was the daddy, but everyone in town knew she slept with plenty of fellows, and Jo weren’t having a bar of it. Anna got real fat with the baby and had to stop dancing and now she lived with some old fellow who was always drunk and would eye up Twilight when she was dancing. Sometimes Twilight would tease Jo about the baby and call him “daddio” and he would get real mad with her. But could be his, that’s the truth. Poor little baby but she were glad Jo weren’t stuck with that Anna.

          Twilight knew the men looked at her. She knew what they were thinking and she didn’t mind. She weren’t no fool though. She had plans. She was going to be somebody, not laid up with some damn sprog like that Anna. Some of the money she earned she’d give to Elroy, some of it she put in a tin can she kept hidden.

          Last night some fellow from out of town came in. A sheriff. She heard the girls whispering and giggling about him. Sheriff Ted Marshall was his name. He was real fine looking and all the girls were in a flutter hoping he would look at them. Twilight wondered what he was doing in town. She hoped it were nothing to do with that bull of Elroys.

          #468

          Yann had been gloomy for a few days. Actually it was not really gloomy, his mood was changing quite quickly and he’d had hard times to follow himself. He didn’t want to impose his mood on his friends and even with Yurick it had been up and down. Nothing to worry about, he thought. He’d been told by Malika it was a clearing of sort, old aspects to let go, they had served their purpose and it was time he accepted the change in himself.

          It was easier said than really done. Last Sunday he felt he was “fragmenting”, he felt part of himself gather and do something he couldn’t really define, he felt like they were moving their own way, leaving for their own exploration… but he had still the experience of it. And in the following days he could feel that he could easily tap into these aspects when he wanted to.

          The other unusual thing that happened was that he was feeling many inputs from many sources he couldn’t always define. Most of the time he could associate easily a face or a situation, at the beginning it was still singularly focused. The more he allowed that, the more multi-layered it became, it was blending with stories of sort, different aspects of himself he felt, and also aspects of his friends or of perfectly unknown people. Some could be translated as famous individuals, some as homeless people, some as future and some as pasts… and the weirdest was that there were not one version of each, though he was in a way more inclined to focus on one of them… there was a theme behind all that… He hadn’t found it yet though.

          He was feeling like evolving in a sticky atmosphere and he could fill it with his fears, so they could express, but the stickiness of this energy was in a way holding them tightly and he had difficulties to let go of these fears. Fears to be abandoned, fears to be less than, to be uninteresting or just not as interesting as… well all that was about comparison and self worth, he was feeling that it was not about the whole of himself, it was particular aspects still holding to these separations from himself. He was feeling he was to accept that in order to let go of this separation. But the non separation was also frightening him because he was frightened by the vastness of his being, the vastness of the connections he was feeling… “and what if I loose my beloved Yurick in the process?” he thought. Couldn’t he just trust himself that he would always be connected to his friend, because that was what he wanted?

          He looked at his cat Arona. She seemed far from all those concerns, and he noticed she was purring more strongly than usual. He smiggled… hahaha, what a funny word. He stroked her fur and she moved her body with grace and abandon, how lovely of her to allow such an openness and such trust that it is safe and pleasurable.

          He smiled broadly and stroked her belly, full of this joyous and wondrous feeling of love of himself. He felt how it was radiating from him to all his friends and all beings.

          :yahoo_love_struck:

          #463

          — A marmoset then… Georges said Salome grinning widely.
          — Yes. Did you get a name for him?
          Leo.
          — That’s cute… With his little white mane around his face, Malvina will love him.

          Leo had jumped on Salome’s shoulder, as it was a bit exhausting for the little creature to follow them.

          — You know they are disappearing on this island of Tikfijikoo where I was just before. I think they found the invasion of their habitat by humans no longer funny. Lots of them have already popped into another reality for their kind… It takes some adjustment to refocus and reconfigure the energy, but it seems to go smoothly, as Leo being here is proof.
          — Yes, as lots of old species on Earth ware doing. The relocation process is a bit energetically crowded, in a manner of speaking…
          Georges was finding usage of words in that dimension a bit uneasy. That ware was such an example of how language needed rearrangement when they talked about simultaneous events in both past and present. At least, he knew Salome was understanding beyond the words.

          Salome smiled and envisioned Georges and herself bathed into a field of fluid mulberry jelly colour, and around them some of the particles floating haphazardly around started to gather orbiting in rippling circles around them.
          Salome was remembering an undulating shape too that she could use as a tuning fork, and she added it inside the central circle.

          — Oh, you’re right…

          « the translation device ! » they both said simultaneously, bursting into laughter.

          — I always tend to forget about that funny toy Malvina once explained to me. And you know how much I love to play with it… when I remember it, of course…

          Malvina had told Georges that the particles which were in his field were assisting him in translation, and had a grounding and focusing effect.

          Leo started to applaud frantically at the new light quality of the energy.

          #462

          Juan was getting more and more annoyed at his daughter’s boyfriend. A good for nothing who was lazy as a pig.
          Paqui was caring for him, and always finding him excuses. Meanwhile, all that Claudio was able to do was to sit in front of the TV and watch the sports channel.

          More than once, Juan had been close to burst into a fury and throw the parasite out of the house, but Paquita was so enamored with him that he did nothing out of compassion for his daughter.
          If only she could see her own beauty, she wouldn’t stick with such a bum.
          Her acne had started at her puberty, and it was like she used it to hide herself… Many, and crazy Josefina too, God bless her poor wretched soul, thought it was such a good thing that she had found someone to love her despite her face full of pimples, but that was all rubbish.

          The pig was out of town to run in a rallye, and that was providing some respite for them all. God knows where he got the money for these expensive entertainments, petty trafficking, most likely… At least, that had left Paqui some clearance to reacquaint herself with her family and with her cousin Joselito, without being shut up at every turn of the conversation by Claudio

          #456

          Dr Bronkelhampton could not help but smile as she unwrapped the bandages and saw the peach smooth skin underneath. So far, so good. All was going to plan beautifully.

          Veranassessee had departed ten minutes ago to greet the two latest arrivals off the plane, and more would be arriving on the island over the next few days and weeks. They would have to be handled with care. Dr Bronkelhampton hoped they would be willing to participate in the experiments, or “treatments”, once they fully appreciated the benefits. But, if not…., she shrugged, there was really no way off the island except by her own say so.

          #453
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            As Arona started to turn away, Lucille called her back.

            Arona, my dear, I have a gift for you. A story.

            Oh, I don’t think I have time for stories, but thanks anyway, said Arona, anxious to get going.

            A little bit rudely disregarding Arona’s objections, Lucille continued:

            Once there were several people standing around a lake in which the full moon was reflected. They discussed the reflection. One person said it was an egg, another said “No, someone must have drowned, it is a bald head”. “Rubbish” said another, “clearly it is a balloon in the water.” One thought the moon was yellow, another thought the reflection of the moon was very emotional. Someone else thought it was soft. Why they had quite a discussion about the reflection of the moon and each one had a separate and disparate view of things. Of course they did, they were looking at it from different perspectives. All were looking at the reflection and not the the moon itself shining in the sky.

            Arona, Lucille said intently, Each person’s perception of the moon reflected in the water, tells us as much about that person as it does about the moon itself. Remember that.

            Arona tried not to giggle, she felt Lucille was getting a little carried away with this moon talk.

            Lucille, undeterred, continued; That’s the best any of us can do, is offer our own perspective. But it is just a point of view. Don’t you worry about who others think you are, unless that’s what you choose also. You be free. You trust yourself Arona and you will shine brightly like the moon.

            I understand, said Arona, as the flork cried out again, with incredible and stunning synchronistic timing. And she did, although she really did think Lucille had got a bit garbled in the telling of it, yet she did get the gist of the unusual little story. And after all, she realised, her own perception of Lucille had changed rather dramatically since that first encounter. Why, now she seemed like quite a sweetie, and really quite profound, in a complicated way. How very odd

            Lucille cackled and winked. Hmmm thought Arona, well, buggered if I know….

            #450
            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Al must have had insomnia, thought Becky, as she reviewed the Reality Play Updates in her emailbox. I wonder what he was doing up at 5:00am? Becky had done nothing but sleep for days. She had woken up in the night a few times, once dreaming of Roswell, and once of Galicia. Hhhmm, she wondered, I don’t know why, and boy do I wish I had better dream recall!

              #449

              All that farting had been quite exhausting, but the mummy felt that she was reincorporating vigor more quickly now, as the old fartesque energy was giving way.
              This was a quicker process than birthing, but also more disturbing.

              She slowly started to unwrap her bandages.
              She smiled as she saw her peach smooth skin on her hands.

              :fleuron:

              Malvina had clapped her hands and made the food and drinks and decorations disappear in the reception hall of the cave, feeling the time was not to big parties right now. The guest had moved again, and she had not been in the mood for party either.
              She had not yet managed to reestablish contact with her sisters and that was a more pressing matter.

              Leörmn had been retreating into his seasonal slumber, and would not be of great help at the moment, so she knew it was also time for her to get back to simple things and not worry about what was not yet here. Probabilities had simply moved, they would come back.

              The silgreen tree had bloomed, and she wanted to brew some potions with its flowers. She would then go with Irtak to the village sell some vials of potion, and perhaps they would take the opportunity to see Huÿgens too, as he sometimes needed such potions for his langoats.

              :fleuron:

              For Illi the cat, that cave filled with slimey scaly beasts was now out of her way.
              Good riddance.

              This dead Illi experience had been so intense she had almost believed there indeed was a pink indigo dragon right were she was at the entrance of the cave. But the impression had vanished all of a sudden, and she had found herself with her mind again her own only, without the echoing thoughts of that deranged other.
              She had found a tree nearby, and comfortably seated on some high branches had been mediating with the help of trance inducing betel catkins that she carried with her as she traveled.

              She had seen some weird stuff, like farting bandage wrapped people putting cobblestones to make a way to the sky, but that was enjoyable. As nothing really could make sense that night, she decided to go to sleep on her tree.

              In the morning, a snorting sound made her raise her pointy ears. Just below her tree, a man was eating and singing, looking at some map, obviously planning some interesting adventure…

              :fleuron:

              In the cave, where Vincentius was left with the Ugling boy and Mandrake, the latter finally decided to break the ice.

              — How pitiful we left that sabulmantium to the snorting man… Mandrake said, we could have had a peek into Arona’s adventure… Not that I am concerned, she is so brave, but you know, she’ll always be my little… What am I saying? mumbled Mandrake temporarily confused.
              — Oh, you mean, Arona had a sabulmantium?
              — Mmm, well, of course… We projected hairy cows and stuff… (I’m really saying the stupidest things today, might be that herbal tea, shivered Mandrake, licking his paw and combing with it the unkempt hair on his head)
              — Interesting… But you know if you want to have a look, we can do otherwise. Let me see…
              — (trying to make yourself important, huh) thought Mandrake

              Vincentius took a little blue bag tied to his belt, and threw a pinch of a smelly mossy powder on the smoldering embers.
              A thick greenish smoke started to rise making Mandrake retreat carefully (or tactfully he would say) in his favourite place behind the pile of logs to look at the discomfiture of poor Vincentius without having to overwhelm him too much with his own superior sharp intuitive senses.
              But to Mandrake’s surprise, the smoke steadied like a moving wall, and images started to foarm.

              — Hey, this is my little girl, Arona! Mandrake couldn’t help but say.
              A-lo-na, the slow voice of Yikes/Zacquer said.

              #1585

              In reply to: Synchronicity

              TracyTracy
              Participant

                I just love the image of all the broken plates and water stuff! What fun! I nearly choked to death once at a party, and nobody thought it was as serious as I knew it was. I was trying to demonstrate the Heimlich manouvre whilst dying; nobody knew what to do. Actually I think I have hundreds of dead probable selves!

                Points Jib for following your intuition and bugger the plates!

                #446
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  About time you woke up, came a familiar grumpy voice from behind a pile of logs. Mandrake emerged. And I don’t have fur balls, he added, haughtily.

                  Mandrake, thank God! Arona had been a little concerned that , given the amount of time presumably had passed, Mandrake may no longer be with them. Tactfully she kept this to herself, given Mandrake’s especially truculent mood.

                  Please tell me what happened now, she said to Vincentius. I think I am ready to hear.

                  Vincentius looked uncertain, sighed , but agreed to tell her the tale. Afterwards, Arona was silent for quite some time. She stared thoughtfully at the fire, mesmerised by the dancing flames, gently stroking Mandrakes silky black coat.

                  Oh bugger, she said eventually and stood up decisively. I really think I have to go and see that old lizardy croney woman, and without delay.

                  I wish you wouldn’t, but I do understand, said Vincentius sadly.

                  I don’t understand, said Mandrake crossly, twitching his tail impatiently and narrowing his green eyes

                  Arona went over to the sleeping Yikesy and studied him with fond interest. He is not getting any better looking with age is he? She kissed him tenderly on the cheek and whispered in his ear.

                  Thank you so much for caring for him, she said to Vincentius and gave him a huge hug.

                  On the way out of the cave she ran into Leormn.

                  Oh, she said, Vincentius said you allowed us to use the room. Thank you so much. And she kissed Leormn on what she thought would be his cheek, however, a little unsure of Dragon anatomy, it may have been technically a snout or something.

                  Arona walked rapidly for several hours, trying to concentrate on the directions given to her by Vincentius and hoping that she was headed in the right direction. Eventually she started to tire and her determination faded. She sat down on a rock and closed her eyes. Her shoulders slumped in weariness and she despondently wished she was back in the cave with the others. She felt deeply sad.

                  And is this something you really must face? asked a kindly voice in her head.

                  I have no idea really, she answered despairingly. I don’t know. I mean I thought I knew. I thought if I didn’t then I would always be in fear. When I looked into the flames of the fire it all seemed clear. I needed to understand and face it, I thought anyway….

                  hmmm, said the voice. Well the best advice I can give you is to trust yourself.

                  Arona opened her eyes and saw, to her surprise, a small cottage in the distance. Why, I don’t remember that cottage being there a moment ago, she thought. It looks just as Vincentius described. How remarkable. I was closer than I thought! Her spirits rose.

                  Outside the cottage the old crone was bent over, digging in a small vegetable plot. A basket of cabbages sat by her side. She stood up at Arona’s approach, wiping the dirt from her gnarly hands on her apron.

                  Hello Arona, she cackled. I have been expecting you. I don’t believe we were properly introduced last time. My name is Lucille. And she held out a hand for Arona to shake.

                  I have come to get some answers from you, said Arona, firmly crossing her arms and ignoring the outstretched hand.

                  Lucille sighed and dropped her hand. Her pointy chin quivered, and Arona noticed a big wart, with one thick black hair growing out of it, right on the tip of lucille’s chin. She tried not to stare.

                  Alright little one, Lucille said soflty. Why don’t you go and wait in the orchard. I will go and fix us a nice, cool drink of lemonade.

                  The orchard was full of old fruit trees, their twisted trunks reminded Arona of Lucille herself. From one of the trees hung an old swing. Arona sat on it, holding the rope, and gently rocked herself back and forwards, thinking. She had to admit, she was, quite frankly puzzled. The visit so far wasn’t going as expected.

                  She kept rocking, faster now.

                  She hit her heels into the hard earth again and again.

                  I don’t know. She tried to dig these words into the earth with her heels.

                  Then she sidestepped her feet in crab-like movements in diminishing circles. The ropes of the swing twisted tighter and tighter.

                  Arona leant backwards and stuck her legs out straight in front of her. The ropes unwound and sent her spinning. weeeeeeeeeeee hoooooooooooooooo!

                  She looked up into the sky. Blue sky through the trees with racing spinning clouds. She felt dizzy.

                  She stood up and braced herself against the seat of the swing. She held onto the ropes and pushed hard against the seat beneath her. She bent her knees under the swing. She kicked her feet forwards.

                  She wanted to go higher. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them outwards. She stretched her body backwards and arched her back.

                  I don’t know, she whispered.

                  She sat upright. She bent her legs back under the swing. Then kicked them as hard as she could. She leant her body backwards. She stretched as far as she could. On the rebound her heels hit the ground hard, but still she wanted to keep going higher and higher.

                  I DON’T KNOW! she shouted, as loudly as she could.

                  :fleuron:

                  Lucille returned with the lemonade.

                  How do I know if it is safe to drink this? Arona asked. You have cast one spell on me, how am I to know this is not another?

                  Lucille cackled. Dear little Arona, she said, if I wanted to cast a spell on you I would have done it before now.

                  Okay, well that makes good sense, thought Arona, gratefully drinking the lemonade.

                  #1584

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  Jib
                  Participant

                    Dead sync :yahoo_heehee: I’ve had a drink with a friend this afternoon and he told me about the trip in Vienna last June… he was with us but did not attend the Elias session.
                    During this trip, he almost choked to death in a restaurant… nobody seemed very concerned about it at the moment but I felt he was really having difficulties, I just pushed the tables around (broke many plates and water stuffs :p) and “helped” him in a way.. He told me later that he’d seen him dead during the experience… he may have created a dead probable self at that time.

                    And he also told me that yesterday he made a lemon pie :yahoo_laughing: and we talked about making a lemon pie too :bounce:

                    #1580

                    In reply to: Synchronicity

                    Jib
                    Participant

                      I’m having lots of Sam sync currently, knowing that Sam is the name of the dog of Georges and Salome that I asked Ark about in the last session… yesterday there were stencil made “We :heart: Sam” in the street, and today at noon there were white balloons flying in the sky and attached to some fences… and then many many posters for a concert at the Zenith ;)) we’re approaching of the zenith then :D

                      and of Sam also I think… :face-grin:

                      #439

                      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…

                      #1938
                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        Yurick wondered for a moment what action was required behind “floating downstream”, the motto that his friend Finn was brandishing with renewed fervor at each of their encounters.

                        Perhaps it was actually a “non action”, and that reminded him of all the Taoist texts he had loved to read when he was younger. One of the tenets of the philosophy of Taoists was wu wei 無為 or “non action”, but this was not meant as being lazy and passive, quite the contrary… A bit of a mind-stretching concept:

                        WU WEI (from the 道德经 Dao de jing, attributed to Lao Zi)

                        The Sage is occupied with the unspoken
                        and acts without effort.

                        Teaching without verbosity,
                        producing without possessing,
                        creating without regard to result,
                        claiming nothing,
                        the Sage has nothing to lose.

                        When he had asked his friend Elias about this, Yurick got that answer,

                        “We have spoken previously of how you each have divorced yourselves from essence, and subsequently have forgotten your own native language. You now incorporate a desire to be connecting with essence, to be dissolving of the veils that exist between the focus and the entirety of the whole. In this, it communicates to you, but you have forgotten your language! Therefore, be not in distress; and allow yourself the opportunity to be assimilating a new language, and not pressing yourself to be attempting to interpret within your present language.” [session 100, June 16, 1996]

                        and that completed nicely another thing he had previously heard from him, speaking about our natural language in essence:

                        “Be listening to your impressions and be recognizing of your impulses, and DO NOT be denying of your impulses! This is your language to yourself from essence, and it is not harmful to you. It naturally moves you into the most efficient directions, but you are taught within your belief systems to be discounting of your impulses and to be suspect of your impulses, for they are bad. They are not! They are your natural language to yourself. Therefore, be listening to this language.” [session 294, July 01, 1998]

                        So basically, floating downstream, or being in the wu wei state of mind required only one thing, to be focusing and acting upon our impulses, and not judging or denying them… Probably the most challenging thing we are learning to do now…

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