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  • #1911
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      BADUL
      or
      the CREATIVe Act
      Badul could be a fiction character.
      It has its own independent entity, although it has no defined
      personality.

      Badul is the action-space-time unit
      and an harmonic fluid of generating rhythm

      Badul is a scale, a range,
      the (one and only) scale, palette. It’s the power to choose, no
      limits, no catalogues.

      The day I discovered Badul I was unconscious. I only knocked at a door
      without knocking.
      And it came to light the pure
      action-creation.

      Maybe a
      dimensión?
      The consecution of acts, part of arevelation?

      Badul is finding, fruitful searching, the living blow.
      If you know it,
      you’ll recognize it.
      If you recognize yourself in it,
      Badul will always be on your side.

      ~~

      I had a dream last night that Arkandin told me to pay closer attention to ‘pop-in’ websites

      #1705

      In reply to: Synchronicity

      Jib
      Participant

        I had a few syncs today too… not mentionning all these pooh stuffs…
        well yes I had a pooh synch today, I was to go to the drugstore to update my vital card (dunno how to tell it in english, but it’s a card that have some information about individuals concerning their health and stuffs…), I walk right with my left foot into a big shit… a funny signal to bring to my attention that I was not paying attention.
        That’s for the pooh synch…
        After that, I read that you mentionned pee in some comments… well I had a pee sync too when going to another drugstore this noon just before I came back home for lunch… there was that paper with a cutie pic of a Gibbon, and it mentionned the HURO project… uro being also a prefix for pee…
        When I got home I had mails from my parents… and they told me they had a new car (just for the record, the old car was red, the new car is… grey) and they had sent me the dvd of their wedding with a pic of my mother in wedding dress on the front…

        When I checked my emails, my father had sent me pictures of my mother in front of the new car… and she was holding a plush Gibbon in her hands :)) I may put the pic later.

        So many synchs :D

        #731
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          It was taking longer than expected for Sanso and Zhana to find food, and they were weak with hunger when they came across the big toad. There was plenty of water; gurgling brooks and rushing streams crisscrossed their path, crystal clear with icy cool snow melt from the summer thaw. The’d found a few cow berries along the way, and they had chewed a few mushrooms but they wanted something substantial before setting off for the other side of the world. Sanso had left a trail of flourescent green cave lichen, to show them the way back to the cave entrance, which was to be their portal to Nishanti’s place.

          Maybe the toad will show us the way to find food, said Zhana. Ask him, Sanso!

          You ask him! replied Sanso.

          No, YOU ask him. Zhana was inexplicably feeling shy.

          Sanso chuckled goodnaturedly, and agreed to ask toad. He stood there silently smiling for some minutes, and Zhana began to wonder just WHEN Sanso would oblige. Her stomach was grumbling and growling and she was starting to get impatient when Sanso turned and strode purposefully off to the left.

          What the…..snapped Zhana. She rushed after him, angrily shouting OY! Her foot caught on a root, sending her sprawling face down amongst the mushrooms.

          Sanso turned, and couldn’t help but laugh. The more he laughed, the angrier Zhana became, causing Sanso to laugh all the more.

          AAAH Ha Ha Ha! AAAHHHH Ha Ha Ha HAAAAH! OOO Hoohooo! If you could see your face all covered in blue mud and red and white spotted mushrooms, you’d laugh too!

          Zhana started to cry.

          There there, dear, Sanso said kindly, trying hard to stop laughing, and wiped the mess off the girls face with an old rag he found in one of his pockets. Did you know that Siberian blue mud is a much sought after beauty treatment in some places? This little mishap will do wonders for your complexion, you know.

          Will it? snivelled Zhana, who had been preoccupied of late with with her adolescent skin.

          Yes! There is no such thing as an accident, you know.

          Well, where were you rushing off to, anyway? You promised to ask toad where to find food, and then without saying a word, you dashed off and left me!

          Sanso looked perplexed. I DID ask toad!

          No, you DIDN’T, retorted Zhana.

          Sanso stared at her, wondering what was the matter with her. Then the penny dropped, so to speak, and he realized that Zhana was more familiar with verbal conversations, and had been unaware of the silent communication between him and toad.

          Zhana, most of our conversations aren’t in words, you know, he explained gently. Listen to the non-words.

          Huh? it was Zhana’s turn to look perplexed.

          You do it all the time you know. You are simply not paying attention.

          He winked at her, and smiled. Come on! The food is this-a-way!

          #1898
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            tjmarshall57: hahahaha as if it’s not bad enough with the weeding, now poor girl has blotches all over her face!
            tjmarshall57: wedding not weeding
            tjmarshall57: do russian wear velis?
            tjmarshall57: veils
            tjmarshall57: hhhm, blessing by a shaman, plaiting together of the couples hair….(is Becky still blad?)
            tjmarshall57: The biggest concern at the wedding is to have enough liquor. A Russian Wedding is an event where everybody must be drunk. No one will be surprised if people drink themselves to unconscious on the wedding – and many do.
            tjmarshall57: well, that will appeal to Sean
            tjmarshall57: You are probably surprised to find out that a Russian wedding lasts for 2 days!! (Well, at least. Some weddings last as long as a week, and this is something to be proud of and remember for years: it means the couple had enough liquor to go on and on, and enough devoted friends to stay.)
            tjmarshall57: The Russian church ceremony is colorful and solemn but the complete traditional ceremony is very long, and as guests and the couple have to stand during the ceremony (there are no benches in Russian churches at all; people must stand during all church services), faints are not rare.
            tjmarshall57: right, so a fair amount of fainting and drunkeness then
            tjmarshall57: Then the witnesses continue running the wedding, reading jokes and poems, and sometimes asking the new couple questions to make fun of them.
            tjmarshall57: Franci will you be my witness, you’d be perfect
            tjmarshall57: “Za molodykh!” (“For the newlywed!”)
            tjmarshall57: Traditionally money is considered as the best gift, and is given in an envelope. Some time after the beginning of the reception when people start to become drunk the witnesses will ask everybody to give their gifts and one of the witnesses will collect envelopes from the rest of the guests with a tray.
            tjmarshall57: Then people have time to dance. First dance is opened by the new couple. After the music starts, there is no exact script anymore, and witnesses can relax a little. They still occasionally announce a toast but do not entertain the guests with jokes and poems; guests by this time are already having lots of fun and are able to entertain themselves.

            Movements become quite hectic; some people go out “to refresh”, and at some moment in this movement the bride gets… “stolen”! She disappears, and when the groom starts looking for her, he is faced with a request for a ransom. Usually it’s his buddies who “steal” the bride. A more or less short wrangle about the amount, and he can have his new wife back. But he must watch out – the bride sometimes may be stolen a few times!

            tjmarshall57: right, so we have drunkeness, fainting, jokes, poems and insults, and theft and abduction
            tjmarshall57: Then there are the bride’s friends – they steal the bride’s shoe. The groom must pay ransom for the shoe too – the guests enjoy watching wrangles.
            tjmarshall57: Often guests leave the wedding in such a condition that they cannot remember what happened. If this was the case with the majority of guests, then the wedding was a huge success
            tjmarshall57: AHA! This is the key! I will write about it after the wedding, when nobody can remeber anything about it
            tjmarshall57: Day two of the wedding:After the meal the bride must “clean” the floor in the room. The fun part is that guests are allowed to mess as much as they want while she is cleaning
            tjmarshall57:
            tjmarshall57: another part for you!
            tjmarshall57: guests on a Russian wedding enjoy it much more than the newlywed couple who are all the time made fools of.
            tjmarshall57: The most popular period for wedding ceremonies in Russia was between the Christmas and Shrovetide (a week before the spring fast). This period was called the wedding period.
            tjmarshall57: well, the timing is right
            tjmarshall57: One of the many superstitions still prevailing among the peasant population of Russia is that, on the occasion of a marriage, the happiness of the newly-married couple is not assured unless the parents of the contracting parties are soaked with water from head to foot. When a marriage takes place in summer this is easily accomplished by ducking the fathers and mothers in the nearest river, but in winter they are laid on the ground and rolled in the snow.
            tjmarshall57: who are the parents?
            tjmarshall57: Among the Koraks of Siberia a young man seeks for a maiden with considerable dowry in the form of rein-deer
            tjmarshall57: oh, well we can have psychoactive reindeer pies, anyway
            tjmarshall57: Kovalevsky has well shown that many of the marriage customs of this country are survivals from a primitive and prehistoric age when the woman ruled the household and had more than one husband.
            tjmarshall57: hhmmmm
            tjmarshall57: it all points to a distant age when the matriarchal system prevailed, and the brother was his sister’s guardian. In Little Russia the brother’s sword is decked with the red berries of the rowan tree, red being the emblem of maidenhood.
            tjmarshall57: red fruit sync!
            tjmarshall57: no wonder I threw the cherries away!
            tjmarshall57: ahahahahha!
            franci_free: oh hrllo
            franci_free: goodness
            franci_free: will need to read back
            tjmarshall57: hahahah oh there you are
            franci_free: well what a complicated theme
            tjmarshall57: haahah well
            franci_free: you will have to write about the wedding
            tjmarshall57: the key to the whole thing is that everyone was so drunk that nobody can remeber any of it aftrwards
            franci_free: hahahah
            franci_free: great!
            tjmarshall57: thats my angle, I think
            franci_free:
            tjmarshall57: and s few things fit perfectly
            tjmarshall57: the red fruit
            tjmarshall57: the time of year
            tjmarshall57: the drunkeness, Sean will love that
            franci_free: the splotches?
            tjmarshall57: well, nobody will remeber that
            tjmarshall57: afterwards

            #1677

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            TracyTracy
            Participant

              tjmarshall57: I better make the next synch comment, its 157
              franci_free: oh good well
              franci_free: do you need help
              tjmarshall57: no I just tossed out a short rather pointless comment
              franci_free: okay well i hope it isn’t too rubbish
              tjmarshall57: just to keep my comments tally up and get the 57 one
              tjmarshall57: fairly rubbish really
              tjmarshall57: but it shows I am IN the loop and Paying attention
              franci_free: well i did 158
              tjmarshall57: ahahhahaha

              #672

              Twilight was in a reflective frame of mind. She had felt real sad saying goodbye to her brothers, and that Blue Bull Elroy had won was worrying away at her. She’d had a dream about it the other night, the bull had got loose and it was all her doing. Well she didn’t remember much more than that about the dream, but it left her with a worried feeling.

              What is is honey? asked Mama Belle , who had been watching the quiet girl and had seen the shadow pass over her face.

              Oh it aint nothing much, I am just being addled brained. I were thinking about my brothers.

              Well honey, you just say your prayers for them at night, and leave them to the Good Lord to mind out for. One thing don’t do nobody no good ever is worrying.

              Do you believe in God, Mama Belle?

              Mama Belle chuckled. Sure I believe in God, even though all my life people said I must be born of the devil to get this way. Her eyes took on a faraway look. When I was little my mother said to me, “God must sure love you Belle. He knows you one of his special children to give you such a hard testing in life. He knows you can take it.” Well I took that to heart, and fact is, far as I know, we only got one shot at this life. So I might as well make the best of things I reckon. The sun still shines on Belle honey, don’t you worry.

              Must be hard for the sun to get through all that hair though, thought Twilight, feeling a bit sad for what her friend had been through.

              Them’s the freaks I reckon, those ones that pay just to come and have a look see.

              :fleuron:

              Dear Elroy and Jo

              I am having a fine time here, meeting some real nice folks. Mr Elson has got a plan to put some of my dancing in the show, in an act along with Bleep and Flop, that’s two of the little folks, Bleep is only 3 foot high, and Flop is not much more than a few inches taller. Well it will be fun and it means I will get paid more than just minding them babies.

              Felix Otterworthy, or they call him “the Otter Man” on account of the fact he ain’t go no legs, is a very learned gentleman. He has said he will help me some with my writing if I would like. Well, that is probably the thing I feel most excited about. He read one of my stories, and said it showed “some potential”.

              So it is all going fine. I can hear them now doing the first call of the day, so this is a short letter for now.

              My friend Mama Belle says I should pray for you boys. I said, “I reckon them two are beyond help”.

              Well I am only making fun, got to go now, Be sure and write me something back.

              lots of love Twi

              :fleuron2:

              ROLL UP! ROLL UP! WELCOME TO FABULOUSLY GREAT FREAKUS CIRCUS! THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH! See extraordinary acts and amazing feats! COME AND MEET THE FREAKS! See the Man with Two Heads, yes that’s what I said, TWO HEADS. Meet the ugliest woman that ever walked the face of the earth, that’s if you can stand to look at her! ROLL UP! ROLL UP!

              Another day at the circus was starting.

              #665

              Fine weather in Hawaii , he thought after the plane had landed at the Honolulu International Airport. He’d been offered an Orchid lei but didn’t really pay attention to it, almost discard it. Who had given it to him. He had no idea. Though the flowers were real now, and the smell was quite pleasant.

              A man was waiting for him outside of the airport. Japanese breed.

              Mr Langlade? My name is Isashi Mamoru. Aunt Alana was expecting you this morning.

              Robert Langlade wasn’t here to apologize. She was the reason of his presence here, well what she possessed actually. The sooner he would meet her, the sooner he could continue his quest.

              He got in the red car, and waited for the man to close the door.

              :fleuron:

              Harry was looking at his daughter walking on the beach with her new friend. She’d lived with her mother in Arizona since she was born and she was only visiting him on holidays… when she had time. She had a western style and he wouldn’t have changed her, it was her choice. He’d wanted to change his own when he was her age, more trouble than he had expected. But it was another life, it was another Harry. He was not from Hawaii himself though he was born here. His family was originating from Korea. His path had moved him away from them for many years. He eventually came back, but he was different now.

              This evening he was feeling melancholy. 58 years old. What was the purpose of his choices?
              His daughter that he called Makana, seemed happy with her friend. She’d told him she’d met him at a conference in Boston last December. But he was not very present to his perception. Though he respected her choices again.

              Alana had told him about an old friend of his. She’d warned him. He was there to take something sacred. She had fear in her eyes.

              :fleuron:

              Narsila was swimming swiftly, following the direction of the calling. She knew others of her kind had heard the signal and were heading toward its origin. It was one of these emerging rocks where the humans had chosen to live.

              The call was not directly connected with them though. It had been activated from another dream.

              #614
              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Vincentius, usually of cheerful disposition, had been in a silent and pensive mood all day. Later that evening, while Yikesy slept, Arona gently asked him if he was okay. He sighed.

                Do you realise it is Yuletide, Arona? he asked.

                Arona did not pay much attention to the passing of time. It was a rather like her map. She did not quite see the point of having a map when she did not know where she was going. Likewise, what was the point of keeping track of time? When one did not know where one was going, it was clearly not necessary to be anywhere at any particular point in time.

                So she grunted non-committedly in response.

                Is that a special time for you? she prompted eventually, when Vincentius once again lapsed into a gloomy and silent reverie.

                He sighed. Do you mind if I tell you a story, Arona? he asked. It is rather long.

                I would love that, she replied, meaning it sincerely.

                #608

                I can feel a human focus on this Island said the aspect of Yuki that was focused near Anita.

                The little girl was sleeping for the moment and her dream focus, though still close to them, was not paying attention to her friends. She was entertaining herself with the dream focuses of her parents, telling them about all that she had been doing with her friends. They themselves were not yet choosing to disengage in this particular probable reality but they were in a kind of transition “place”, removed from their bodies for a lengthy time framework. They had built a similar environment to their home and were acting “as usual”.

                It is a focus of Blöhmul that is not yet aware of our presence here though an aspect of this focus is… I feel it is not a singular focus in a way that is quite original

                Rafaela and Armelle were merged consistently at that time and were creating a strange owly goat or a goaty owl depending on the angle of aspect you were looking at or from.

                Yes it is quite a messy focus, it is generating of new ways of explorations… I’m exploring it from now on said the goaty owl / owly goat.

                The energy was moving and creating new connections. That focus and Anita were already connecting to each other, a strong thread of energy had been attracting them to each other… The four essences began to move in a facilitating of this attraction, merging together in a marmoset, close to the “binary” focus… Surely the dog like aspect of this focus would be intrigued by the marmoset and would want to follow it… to the little Anita.

                #550

                Alarmed by the sound of the explosion, Mrs Butterbutt rushed out of her office.

                What the hell are they doing again? If it’s these dirty sons of …

                She censored her thought as she was about to burst out in anger, she was so focused on that prout farting Mc Gaughran that as she opened the door of the main room, her face was that of a fury…. but as soon as she saw what had happened, she heard the laugh of Little Joe followed by all the drunkards and the sissy cow boys of that town. Her loud laugh soon joined with the others… she managed to calm down and talked to the juicy Aldous.

                — Oh you’re going to pay for all that mess, behave Mc Gaugran, you could have refrained from shitting on you!

                She couldn’t help but burst into laughter again.

                #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.

                #434
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  “Oranges and lemons”, say the bells of St. Clement’s

                  (The crone started singing to the baby)

                  “You owe me five farthings”, say the bells of St. Martin’s
                  “When will you pay me?” say the bells of Old Bailey
                  “When I grow rich”, say the bells of Shoreditch

                  (Madrake tutted and raised his eyebrows)

                  “When will that be?” say the bells of Stepney
                  “I may express to you: Whenever you choose to create it”, says the great bell of Bow

                  #1313

                  In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    November 9 th

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

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

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

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

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

                    #420
                    Jib
                    Participant

                      Sam had been feeling crap for several days now, and though it was very uncomfortable, he also felt it was for him to pay attention to what he was doing. He also knew he wasn’t alone doing this; many other energies were present and doing their own explorations.

                      No separation.

                      He was feeling that more and more. No separation between his focuses, and with his counterparts also, and with every focus and every aspect of consciousness.
                      It felt very odd, and he was quite having a hard time trying to sort all this out or clarify what he was doing; what was himself, or what wasn’t, though it was :yahoo_at_wits_end:

                      Well better not to think too hard of it — the usual way of thinking was quite unable to translate now. He would have to create his own thought patterns and find ways to communicate with others differently. :weather-showers: :weather-storm: :weather-snow: :weather-overcast: :weather-few-clouds: :weather-few-clouds-night: :weather-clear:

                      Most important was his own perception of self and what he was able to create, what was all this judgment thing about? He still couldn’t understand… all the intricacies of it.

                      #393
                      F LoveF Love
                      Participant

                        ARONA MEETS THE NANNY

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

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

                        Wooha!

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

                        A miracle sent by God to save you? suggested Mandrake

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

                        Steady on Arona, said Mandrake

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

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

                        Buggered if I know, answered Arona

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                        Well this is a fortuitous meeting indeed then!

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

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

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

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

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

                        #392

                        — The legend of Mævel — (Part IV)

                        Mævel’s mind was made up, she was leaving tonight. She took a few of her belongings in a little bundle, and all very silently, moved to the door, the bundle in one hand, and the key in the other.

                        But when she tried to put the key into the lock, she noticed something was wrong. The key was way too big for the small lock. What was the purpose of materializing a big key unfit to the locks that were in front of us? she wondered.
                        Perhaps the key will have another use, she said to herself, and she put it into her bundle, and wondered whether she could find another way to get out of the bedroom.

                        « Use your magic,… you don’t need to play by the rules » a tiny voice whispered in her ear.
                        « What does that mean? » she asked, befuddled, as perhaps her parents where right after all, she was becoming nuts… Well, that might attract squirrels and have them gnaw a hole in that wall, she said giggling to herself.
                        « You don’t need draw squirrels,… you can draw a door directly »

                        What a strange idea, Mævel thought, drawing a door… It sounded so funny at the moment, that she could feel her heart lift and her spirits as well. What could she use to draw that door… Her gaze ran quickly through the bedroom, looking for a bit of chalk, or charcoal, or whatever else. What a terrible thing that she was so obsessed by dusting, as there wasn’t even a single dust bunny left to draw that door.

                        « Now, will you pay attention? »
                        « I beg your pardon? »
                        « What did I told you? »
                        « Mmmm, let me think… Oh! I don’t have to play by the rules… »

                        So, in a bout of genius, Mævel ran her finger on the wall, starting from the floor, straight upwards, then to the right, and straight down again, until… well, nothing happened.

                        « That wall hasn’t budged any! »
                        « Are you sure?… Look closer »

                        And Mævel saw that the wall had become like a shiny surface of water, right inside where she had drawn the limits of that imaginary door. And when she pressed her finger, it was simply going through it, as though the surface had just been an illusion.

                        With a thank for the helpful voice in her head, she was about to cross the surface, but was stopped in her track by a moment of hesitation. Could she change the destination behind the wall as well?
                        Why not, after all, she didn’t have to play by the rules.

                        « To the forest! » Mævel ordered intently to the wall before jumping in.

                        The voice smiled to her fondly.

                        #327

                        The rain was pouring cabbages :weather-showers: for several days now, almost the whole week… Baul was fed up with that filthy weather of Cromash Tur. The capital of this 4th kingdom was quite nice and pleasurable, but it lacked sun and warmth… Baul had come to Nâabooli, the capital of Cromash, in order to settle an arrangement. Something quite particular that he couldn’t find in his own land of Erpet Mesh. He’d been travelling for weeks with his guards and servants when he arrived in the city and all that for some foo’kin rain! But something more important than brooding and pouting was on his mind.

                        Tonight he was alone, no servant, no guard… he was wearing a black coat made of goat skin on his usual blue and yellow silk robe, he couldn’t wear anything else, his skin was too smooth and delicate. He was spending great amount of money to take care of his body, it was his own pride, and he considered himself as a very handsome and appealing male.

                        The man he was about to meet wasn’t hiding, but oddly was acting in full sight. Nonetheless, Baul didn’t want to be seen with him, Baul was an ambassador of sort from Erpet and he couldn’t be seen entering in an Assassin’s house. In Cromash, the Assassins were quite a respectable and wealthy, but in Erpet they were outlaw… one of the numerous differences between the two kingdoms, one they would never agree upon. Baul found it quite useful though; many times he’d met Ar’Am Khra, one of the best of this profession.

                        For this meeting, as always, Baul had chosen a tavern, the Landgurdy, called after one of the former 12 kingdoms. The 4 remaining ones were at war most of the times, they couldn’t maintain peace more than a few years at best, and Baul had found many ways of benefiting of this situation. Merchant, Ambassador, and much more. He was thriving with plotting :face-angel: :face-devil-grin: and it was quite useful to be one of the ambassadors of Erpet Mesh, offering him safety wherever he was going. It was one of the few respected rules that were common between the Warring Kingdoms.

                        The Landgurdy was quite a crowded tavern, and the owner was a friend of his, though not really officially. There was that private room on the rear of the building, know only of a few chosen “friends”, so they could enter unnoticed by the usual customers and by would be spies. The rear door was seemingly leading into another building, and some arrangements had been made over the years.

                        Baul knocked the code at the door, and a vasistas was open quickly and closed even more quickly. The door opened then and he entered in the darkness of the house. If anyone opened the door, he or she wasn’t there anymore, but Baul knew the place quite well as it wasn’t his first meeting with the Assassin.

                        :fleuron:

                        The Assassin was waiting in the small room, square shaped with only a wood table and one chair. No window. One dim lamp.
                        He was sitting on the lone carved chair. His clients needn’t sit.
                        They were mere beggers.
                        The one that was coming now, was quite amusing.
                        The first time he met him, Baul was quite young and inexperienced in his own skills. Though he was quite ambitious, Ar’Am Khra had to admit it.
                        The usual reaction when seeing the Assassin’s pale complexion was shivers and disgust. He was used to it and it was a game that he had enhanced with a little bluish glowing dagger tattooed on his forehead.
                        The dagger was the mark of his profession, though not so obviously exhibited by the others. Cowards.
                        At that first meeting, Baul didn’t react the way his other clients did. And it was not influenced by his utmost concerns at that time. Beside his inexperience he was quite engrossed in what he had called his “mission”.
                        Ar’Am Khra did not know of any mission, there were merely contracts.
                        And he was doing what his clients were paying for.
                        Accomplishing his contract even after the death of his clients.

                        He was remembering of an amusing event.
                        A client had hired him to end the life of another man, and the second man went a few days after to his office to beg him to kill the first man.
                        The Assassin accepted the contract.
                        A few days later he killed the second man.
                        He executed the first one not long after that, thus respecting the second contract. :yahoo_skull:

                        He never questioned the motives of his clients.
                        It was not for him to judge or to understand. Though most of the time he did understand quite well.
                        His main motivation was the payment and his own pride in expressing his skill with subtleties and newness.

                        The door opened smoothly. Baul entered the room.

                        :yahoo_alien:

                        :fleuron:

                        Yann and Quintin had an interesting chat during the afternoon. Yann had some new impressions about the map of Lord Wrick annotated by Quintin. Something about the Warring Kingdoms, triggered by a dream of an Assassin in one of them. It was frustrating not to be in the same room so Yann could show Quintin directly on the map, but with Internet there were some other options.

                        The names of these lands were Ata’Meliu, Dam Adbor, Erpet Mesh and Cromash Tur. These 4 Kingdoms were rather scattered on the Lan’Ork part of the continent, pieces and bits everywhere, though Ata’Meliu was more in the center and the South of the Lan’Ork, Dam Adbor in the East and in the North, and Cromash Tur in the West and South West parts, Erpet was divided in 2 main areas, one located on the Northern land just before the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer, and a smaller one lost in the middle of Ata’Meliu.

                        Yann only had the impression of 2 of the capitals, Naat Medin was the one of Erpet Mesh and Nâabooli of Cromash Tur.

                        Quintin just sent him the map so he could draw some more comments and sketch the boundaries of the Warring Kingdoms. He didn’t know why, but he felt some movements were about to begin, some reconfigurations of the borders :world:

                        #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.

                            #263

                            It’s been a long time since Írtak last paid a visit to his family. But this time would not come now as the twins were just hatching.

                            The hatchtone, a humming inaudible sound that would help the little dragon break the hard shell, had been resonating for almost an hour now, and Írtak had to constantly refocus and pay attention to himself not to be distracted by the unheard sound. The tone was quite intense and as they were both hatching at the same time the hatchtones were enhancing each other.

                            Írtak could see the shell resonating with the gluid tones. It was shifting shape slightly, and his eyes were also perceiving a bluid glow around it.

                            In the hatchtones were the names of the dragons… Írtak was a bit astonished because those names were quite odd, but he was feeling a strange inner giggle of sort coming from some part of himself.

                            He was translating the hatchtones as Heckle and Jeckle.

                            “Defunitely!”

                            The inner laugh of Malvina was still resonating in his ear when the shell began to crack.

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