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  • #2047

    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Dark….
      common?
      Keep images;
      hear others…

      Eyes

      Recent movements.
      Heard,
      Follow…
      Kept questions.

      Individuals

      Library ~
      Thanks, come fact!
      Littleton smile:
      deal?
      feeling… rather….

      Cat!
      Ones eye…

      Accept self.

      #2595

      In reply to: Strings of Nines

      TracyTracy
      Participant

        “Just do it. Either just do it, or just make something up” she told herself. Again. “Either do it, or make it up, but stop thinking about it and talking about it.” Yoland sighed and turned on the radio. It was an old pink one, the kind with the dials that turn, and a pull out antenna. The antenna was a bit rusty at the bottom and didn’t rotate very well, which made it a bit tricky to get a clear reception without alot of preliminary juggling around and fidgeting. The dogs under her desk scratched themselves noisily as Yoland fiddled with the radio.

        :yahoo_puppy:

        “In the backwater….”

        “…yes you’ve got the Splain Channel loud and clear now all you have to do is focus on what the next word is and then write it down without thinking about the spelling, as you can see you are looking at the keybaord and tryping”, Yoland smiled at the typo, “the words that you are hearing without trying to anallzye them too much now. ok are you ready? We’re going to do some balloon exercise first to get the ball rolling, you see, there are many ways to blow up a balloon, and I’ll be the first to tell you you’re doing it wrong, I am kidding, of course.”

        :yahoo_oh_go_on:

        Yoland smiled, inching forward on the chair to accomodate the dog that had wormed his way round her back, wondering whether or not to move him.

        :yahoo_puppy:

        “Your chair is fine the way it is, that’s a very common delaying tactic my freind, and one you are quite familiar with. Now, pay attention once again to simply the words that you hear as you are writing, watching the keys is rather mesmerising is it not….”

        :yahoo_hypnotized:

        Yoland did a quick reality check and agreed that she was feeling a bit mesmerized, and realized that she possibly could feel considerably more mesmerized if she stopped doing reality checks.

        “…and as you watch your fingers moving along in a rather detached way, you can detach your attachment to knowing what the next word might be and simply write what you hear; we are practicing the sliding away from the strict hold on trying to anticpate the net words and then you freeze the flow, it shouldn’t be tiring if you let go and relax a bit and simply allow your fingers to move of their own accord while you relax your shoulders…”

        :yahoo_chatterbox:

        What a load of rubbish, thought Yoland, as she adjusted her chair, which had a habit of suddenly dropping down an inch, just enough to make it hard for her to reach the keyboard. Sighing, she wondered about ever getting a satisfactory answer to her Really Big Questions, the ones that nobody had answered so far. All she ever managed to tune into was rambling waffling inane….

        :yahoo_sigh:

        “….you feel that your questions are so large that the capacity for distortion is huge, and you feel that other questions are easily answered via other routes and methods, and this is correct.”

        Yoland wondered what THAT was supposed to mean.

        :yahoo_straight_face:

        “Ok we can forget questions then and I will tell you a story.”

        Yoland relaxed. That sounded easier.

        :yahoo_big_grin:

        “Once upon a time there was a beer fisherman from the planet of Oxbloodshire.”

        Oh here we go, she thought. What’s coming next…

        :yahoo_rolling_eyes:

        “Whether or not you find clues in there is entirely your choice to create them, and all are equally valid. This is such a simple thing: that even the most seemingly miniscule sentences contain a myriad of potential diversions and convergences, routes, patterns, nets, from even the tiniest particle of an idea. All of them are boundlessly creative offshoots which become a particular stream, or string.”

        :detective:

        Yoland found herself wondering where some of them started, and found she didn’t know where to start.

        “With the question of syncronicities every point of them is the start point, the end point, the main point, the moot point, and the connecting links as well, as are all the others. When you get your ball of string in a tangle, it’s easier to throw it away and start a new one.”

        Yoland was inclined to agree, but wondered if that sounded like sensible advice.

        :yahoo_thinking:

        “Immediately the new one starts linking up all kinds of things in a new interconnected design pattern, and then when that gets in a right tangle, a fresh ball of string awaits; the tangled ones aren’t in a tangle at all when you’re not tangled up within it.”

        Well, that certainly sounded resonable, Yoland had to admit.

        :yahoo_star:

        “And why waste time with old tangles anyway when you can start afresh and just make something up, for no particular reason?”

        Bloody good question, why not indeed? Yoland decided to start making things up there and then, and turned her computer off and went to pack her case.

        :bounce:

        #2045

        In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

        EricEric
        Keymaster

          Georges inner quickly patterns
          self moment nobody keep barely question
          whether gustav give simple young places
          front parts certain voice fruit

          #2585

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          Mark knocked tentatively.

          “Sheila?” he poked his head around the door.

          “Sheila? … oh excuse me!” he apologised. “I was looking for Sheila. I thought she might still be here ..”

          His voice trailed off as he looked at the woman standing before him. She looked so familiar and yet he couldn’t for the life of him place her.

          Bugger! thought Phoebe. This is an entertaining turn of events. What is he doing back here?

          As if to answer her unspoken question Mark explained that he had missed the flight to Noo Zooland, and knew that he was making an awful mistake he would regret for the rest of his life if he did not find Sheila and see if they had a chance together. Did Phoebe know where she had gone?

          Phoebe smiled kindly at the anxious and visibly lovelorn Mark.

          “I think you will find she hasn’t got far. Why don’t you wait here with my parrot, Vincentius, and I will go and see if I can find her for you.”

          Mark looked expectantly around the room for Vincentius, but failed to see any sign of him. “Your parrot?” he queried.

          Phoebe laughed. “Silly old me! What am I like eh? Of course, Vincentius has yet to make it through the portal. Don’t worry, he will be here soon.”

          She chuckled to herself as she left the room.

          #2564

          In reply to: Strings of Nines

          TracyTracy
          Participant

            Yoland woke up feeling lighter somehow. The sun was shining, the young puppy, Phunn, scampered about without a care in the world as she perused the morning mail. The random daily Circle of Eight’s quote once again delighted her, synchronizing with her recent meditation.

            Fiona woke suddenly from a dream. In her dream she had been communicating with her online friends, through drawings and messages. She had been trying so hard to convey something, and the more she tried to say it, the more distant they felt to her.

            She had woken feeling saddened. Her energy was greatly disturbed, and, unable to get back to sleep straight away, she meditated. She felt herself connect with the energy of a Snowy Owl, who invited her wordlessly to ask her questions. The Owl’s eyes seemed to have such a depth of wisdom and kindness, and no sooner had her thoughts begun to ask their questions, than she would feel the Owl’s answer merge with her own knowing.

            She felt herself being able to say without words what she had tried so hard in her dream to convey, and understanding there was no need for any effort, she felt greatly comforted, and peaceful sleep swept over her again.”

            Yoland had sent an email to her freind KX about her meditation, as her freind had unexpectedly popped up in it, in a wonderful pastel watercolour world:

            The elevator stopped with a shudder and the doors slammed open. The landscape looked a bit too airy fairy for me (not real enough, haha!) and I nearly got back in the elevator. It was all aqua blue and pastel and floaty, like a watercolour world. Then I saw you, waving your arms around, painting the air with trails of pastel colours with your fingertips. You were smiling and wearing a pale blue shirt. You wrapped me round with spirals of colours from your fingertips and then I flew upwards into the dark blue. You tossed me a paper toilet roll to use as a silver cord, which I tossed back to you after a bit cos it felt a bit silly, and then you sent a burst of colours as an acknowledgement

            KX had responded:

            Yoland!!That is very very cool! I’ve been “out there”! I’ll bet you I was changing the toilet paper roll at the moment you were in the Watercolor World ! Meanwhile so many things are coming together for me in how to create and how to hold my attention where I want it… Imagination is a key ~ Love you! I will beam over in a minute. KX”

            Smiling, Yoland checked the latest blog updates. Sahila had posted some Possum photos, and the first thing that Yoland saw was the white owl in the fork of the tree behind the possum.

            :creating_magic:

            #2562

            In reply to: Strings of Nines

            TracyTracy
            Participant

              Yoland felt tired and deflated somehow. Weary, perhaps that was it, weary of the way she always felt when the animals were sick or dying. It was all very well to look at it logically, that with so many animals with such relatively short natural life spans that there would always be some coming, some going, but it was the way it made her feel that was so tiring. Responsible, as if she could have done more, or guilty that they were reflecting her energy somehow. It was all very well to say that the animals were creating their own reality, that would be easy enough to accept in some cases such as old age and diseases, but Yoland almost wished she’d never learned that they reflect her own energy, that always made her feel even more responsible than she already did.

              The black cat was dying. Yoland had made up her mind to take her to the vets that morning. That was another dilemma she’d faced often enough, too ~ would the animal prefer to die naturally at home? Or was it in too much pain, and would it prefer to end it quickly? How could she know? Yoland supposed she did always know, in the end, which was to be the choice, but there was always the agonizing period of time beforehand when she wondered which decision to make. But the black cat had disappeared and she couldn’t find her to take her to the vets after all.

              When she’d made the decision to take the black cat to the vet that morning, Dean accidentally knocked a photograph of her first dog, Joe, off the wall. He was the first of her dogs to go, and a good age for a big dog, fourteen years old, and Yoland had known all along that he would die at home, and sure enough, he had. One day Yoland knew he was close to the end, and less than 24 hours later, he lay on his bed, and just gradually stopped breathing. Yoland hadn’t even been quite sure of the moment in which he went, as she held his head, she asked Dean, Do you think he’s dead? Dean replied, If he’s not breathing he is. It was a silly question, really, of course Yoland knew that if you weren’t breathing you were dead. As deaths go, it was peaceful and easy. They took him in the car to a place in the woods and buried him, somewhere where the ground was soft enough to dig; it was high summer and the ground was hard and dry. It wasn’t until Joe was covered with earth that Yoland cried.

              Yoland cried again as she remembered Joe, and then she wondered if perhaps his photograph falling off the wall that morning was a message ~ perhaps a message that the black cat was choosing to die at home too, her own little niche somewhere, wherever that might be, wherever the roof cats slept. Maybe Joe was reassuring her that he’d be there when the black cat got there, in that field of flowers where the animals played while they waited for us to join them.

              It was a comforting thought. Yoland reached for the tissues.

              :heart:

              #2044

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              EricEric
              Keymaster

                is there some hidden message in that one? :-?

                Spend random says georges
                although malvina accent send family
                friend inside odd questions thought
                bea three work everywhere front details knew

                #2504

                In reply to: Strings of Nines

                The smell of the incense was giving her a sense of comfort and was helping her unfocus her attention in order to let the trance occur. She was one of the Seers of the Crimson Feather Order and when she was in a trance, the Goddess was speaking through her for those priests or priestesses who were seeking directions.

                The Seers usually had no memories of what was happening when they were speaking for the Goddess and they were usually coupled with a Witness so the message would not be altered by the requester to best suit his or her desire. Depending on the clarity of the message, a period of evaluation and interpretation could be necessary and in case of official communications it was then forwarded to every temple.

                Though in certain occasions the Witness could be missing as it was the case today. The archbishop Boorla had requested a meeting with no Witness, and in such cases the value of the information was only considered of personal nature. He was late, and she could put off the meeting if she wanted to, but a faint feeling was suggesting her to wait a bit longer.

                When he entered a few minutes later, introduced by her usual Witness, he seemed furious and having great difficulties containing his anger. He was a red long-haired cat and his collar was particularly imposing in such moments. She had to focus on herself and not let his irritation make her loose her balance for the trance. As the Witness left the room, she took a deep breath and purred gently as she began the ritual. The Requester had to keep silence until being invited to do ask their question and she needed some time to calm him.

                She felt at first his irritation grow as she was purposefully delaying the beginning of the trance, but he couldn’t resist longer the soothing purr of the Seer, and as she asked the ritual question, she felt her consciousness fading out.

                :fleuron:

                When she came out of trance, she was feeling sick, the delivery of the message had been interrupted and though he was silent she could feel the fury of the archbishop flowing like waves. Apparently the message didn’t please him at all, and he barely spoke the ending ritual Thanks to the Goddess before he left the room hissing.

                Though she was feeling tired and would need some rest, she couldn’t help wondering what had happen.

                #2492

                In reply to: Strings of Nines

                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Cordella opened Circle of Eights at random. It was the part where Felicity was trying out for the new job, the job where ‘the ability to say the first thing that popped into her head’ was the only requirement. How appropriate, she said drily, having spent the past week and a half wondering what to write on the vast field of possibilities stretched in front of her. It wasn’t that she had nothing to say, rather a question of where to start.

                  Well, that’s the start sorted out now then, she said with a satisfied smile.

                  #2231

                  With a side glance at the random words written on the fridge, Harvey was starting to get another slipstream of weirdrom (weird and random) information.

                  Earth escape; whole asked environment similar — Friend forgotten work, thinking moving! Managed recently whatever known questions — dogs ones myself physical energy

                  Now, did this Earth escape had anything to do with that recent quest of Philodendron for a FTL travels equipped island…

                  #2199

                  Harvey, okay this is weirdo question, but is that a pink elephant which has just walked into the restaurant?

                  What? … Where? Harvey looked around and shook his head with a laugh. No, that’s just an apparition, a miracle of genetics not to be believed. Freakin heck Lavender, first of all aliens, now pink elephants… maybe you should cut back on the DMT.

                  #2191

                  I don’t remember dreams at all unfortunately, she confided, her voice lowered. But, on the bright side, the DMT I have been taking is helping me to see aliens and little people.

                  Her close friend Harvey Norman, circus performer and proxy dreamer in his spare time, nodded distractedly, not really listening. He was more concerned at that moment with investigating any visible damage to his precious nose. Freakin heck! a freakin oven! what would the producers come up with next?

                  Oh you know what! she continued, unperturbed by Harvey’s lack of attention. I’m pregnant! I’m so excited. I have a name picked and everything. I am going to call it Essence. The Fellowship said I could pick it up next week!

                  Oh yeah? The Fellowship said next week? That’s pretty cool. Didn’t know you were after a baby. They are a bit hard to come by now aren’t they? So who is the father donor?

                  None other than the great Col Umbro himself! She smiled proudly, anticipating the effect her words would have. She was not disappointed.

                  Wow! Col Umbro! The Zebra! Harvey stopped the investigation of his nose in order to shake his head in disbelief. How did YOU manage that?

                  Oh, well you know last week when I had that interview with Ann Tattler? you know, the crazy author who doesn’t write any more, just listens?

                  Harvey noodded and roolled his eyes disparagingly. Used to be Elizabeth right? yeah sure, who hasn’t heard of her… so, go on …

                  Well, HE was there, and he suggested I ask him some questions, you know to assess my suitability for the position. Somehow, by some freakin miraculous fluke, I managed to get the questions in the right order .. he is a bit obsessed with the whole order thing …. but I didn’t know that till after … so anyway, he was so impressed with my obvious brilliance that he offered to father a baby for me!

                  Harvey, rendered momentarily speechless, shook his head again. He had never had much time for babies himself, although appreciated that some people were into
                  them.

                  Yeah, I know what you mean, she said, reading his thoughts. Actually I am not sure if I have really thought it through. I might have got caught up in the whole thrill of the moment thing … to be honest, I don’t know if little Essence will fit into my lifestyle. I am supposed to be going to Asgard next week …

                  Asgard? Really, can you still get through? I thought the bridge was crumbling?

                  oh really! bugger! … Oh but anyway I am thinking of giving little Essence to my cousin Aspidistra. She is such a funny old thing with her strange glowing skin. A little baby to care for could do her the world of good.

                  #2190
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    Col had been in the business of intergalactic sleuthing and profiling for many years now and his tall broad stature and kind, poised black face was well known all around. They used to call him “the Zebra”, not so much because he made black and white statements —he was very nuanced— but because of his unusualness and knack for blending himself in questions.
                    As a matter of fact, he’s made himself quite a reputation of a highly skilled professional, with no one up to par for finding clues and solving mysteries.

                    Col Umbro’s motto was “all you have to do is to ask the right questions, in the right order.”
                    Of course, he wouldn’t tell which way was the “right” one and which was not. But one thing was sure enough, most people completely overlooked the last part of the sentence.

                    And that was what he intended to teach to his next assignment. A distant focus of his essence in mid-shift. For the moment, dream projections were the easiest and safest way to catch their attention, because they were not accustomed to a shifted state enough to pay attention to more physical projections.

                    It was hilarious to see that most of the enthusiastic ones were waiting for unexpected events to come and rapture them in awe. Sillies… For one, “unexpected” shouldn’t be so… expected.
                    Besides, most of the time, (most of the now) people were simply blind to the facts not in alignment with their allowance for disbelief. A pink elephant, say… They had grown so blasé that should they even see it standing in from of them, that they would probably then dismiss its appearance as another miracle of genetics (or debasement thereof)…
                    So, reaching them would actually require quite a tactful and sly approach. Qualities he possessed enough.

                    “Who’s this new person appearing disguised in a pseudonym?” His assignment was wondering.

                    They had forgotten rule number one. Nothing is hidden from you. Granted, a pseudonym is a mask, but the choice of the mask is revealing enough of a clue.
                    Then, you had to ask the questions in the right order. “Who is it?” should be the last of them all. Same with all the “how’s”. “What and why” where more important questions to consider.
                    Once you got the “what”, the who is so self-evident, that it would not even retain the slightest of interests…

                    He had found a nice slot, just after an entertaining equilibristics dream show. Making a dream for his assignment would be fun. And probably even more fun as she was the most impossible subject who wouldn’t remember dreams at all! He would have to use a proxy dreamer. Someone close enough to her. He knew exactly who to choose…

                    #2188
                    EricEric
                    Keymaster

                      The transitory times were hectic, to say the least, though it did not always appear as such for everyone involved.

                      For focuses, still living at the helm of the Shipft, riding the turbulent waves of change, it was a very delicate period.
                      The last wave had propelled them very far in a short time, and they had rejoiced that their promised new land was in sight. Finally.

                      But little did they know that the land in question was only still a reflection of the old. They had created it to let themselves rest, and spew out their stress, their anger and frustration, while behind the curtains the activity was intense with the careful and barely noticed moving of props.

                      Sometimes, the riders of wave had glimpses of that movement. But it still felt as if they were left on their own. Most of the activity seemed to have shifted to other grounds, and that was a ground they didn’t realize they had access to already.

                      Like the rainbow Bifröst leading to Asgard, all these bridges between the realms would soon start to crumble. It wouldn’t be possible to have one foot here and another there, not any longer.
                      Choices will be made.
                      They are being made.

                      And then, the Circle of power, the one Ring will be melt into a burning core of ‘lova’, and the Shite will be healed and shifted. (well, tentatively heehee)

                      #1274

                      — “What do you think then? Aren’t you interested in going away a few days for a visit in that new City?” Al asked Tina
                      — “Well, I don’t know”, she answered, her voice muffling down to a whisper. Or more precisely, not a whisper, but a soft transition into a telepathic mode. That non-verbal mode of communication was recently the most efficient way they’d found to exchange without need for lengthy explanations.

                      That way, lots of discussions were held at once, and answers instantly given to a whole range of multiplexed questions.

                      “You know,” Al continued after a moment “that guy we met last time, Sam’s friend…”
                      “Yes, Armando Tina answered telepathically

                      “Yeah. He’s got his flying car model perfected; apparently, they’re now starting to put flying tractors on the market too. I was thinking we could rent one to go to that country City. Sounds reasonable enough; we can fly to go there, and once arrived, even if it’s muddy, a tractor would come in handy.”

                      #1262
                      AvatarJib
                      Participant

                        Following Dory’s example, Yann had subscribe to the daily Universe’s messages. The first time she’d showed him the messages it appeared to be very fun and encouraging, but since he had subscribed, the messages he was receiving were very odd and more like what a spoiled child could tell you.
                        Yann had been fed up all day long by the last message in which the Universe had apparently told him that He, The Universe was all knowing and had everything but He won’t give a bit to Yann because!

                        Wow! That was a bit rude of Him, Yann thought… better not send anything… maybe he can tell Him next time to go fuck Himself.

                        All day long the irritation triggered by that simple note was gathering other tensions… it was like each time he was receiving a phone call, the caller’s energy would be scattered and distracting… and most irritating. Yann was feeling like other people had so many expectations for him and he couldn’t order his ideas or find a distraction.

                        All of the imagery would reflect him the same thing, unexpected answers from the Universe.

                        “Don’t wait for something particular, because each time it will present itself in a different way.”

                        At the end of the day, Yann was puzzled and annoyed… and the text messages he had been receiving on his mobile phone started again.

                        Apparently a girl was waiting for some call or message from a guy called “Did”, and she was persuaded that Yann’s number was that guy’s number. At first, Yann wouldn’t answer any of the messages and play the role of /dev/null/ endpoint of the Universe… After each message though, his irritation was growing accordingly…

                        He sent a message signed by The Universe and told the girl he was not who she thought he was and that she could as well try another random number to find her “Did”. But well, engrossed as she was in her passion, she answered him by a question : Who was he and why would he use “Did”‘s phone?

                        Hopefully Yurick was present… Yann as a good soft would have matched the energy of the Bitch but instead he sent he a last message, wishing her good luck in her quest. No need to add to her distress or the polarization in sending her a message like : Apparently your guy didn’t want to see you again if he’d given you this number…

                        Well, the “truth” still hadn’t made its way to her intellect though, she had sent him another message telling him she’d knew it from the beginning, that Yann was Did’s girlfriend and that she/he was trying to keep him/Did for her/him.

                        That’s when had some kind of striking revelation… The Universe was called Pedro!
                        And when he told that to Yurick, he chuckled and told Yann that the Universe was called Michael…
                        “They’re all angels lately, so it’s the name of an angel…”

                        Why not?

                        #1261

                        “Hey Leo, I had a blinding revelation last night, after Barb left.”

                        “Well, do tell, Bea, I’m all ears” said Leonora with an encouraging smile, pouring herself a cup of tea.

                        “Well the moment was far clearer than I can explain it but it went something like this” Bea continued. “Bearing in mind that the FOCUS DIRECTS so the question of ‘directing’ essence is another choice of puzzle piece of the individual puzzle game at any moment…”

                        “Ye-es” replied Leonora, making an effort to concentrate.

                        “To connect to an individual focus is but a baby step towards being able to comprehend the interconnectedness of everything that you create, and that it is all in fact you.” Bea went on, adding “Like a beginner stage as it were, to keep it manageable.”

                        “Keeping it manageable sounds like a good idea” interjected Leo, pointedly glancing around at the disorder in the kitchen.

                        Unperturbed, Bea continued “You draw to yourself parts or, if you like, focus points or other focuses of All That Is —of the whole that are at that moment useful.”

                        “Sounds reasonable, Bea, do continue. Pass the gingerbread men, would you?”

                        “All of the characters in the stories I write, for example, are my focuses in a manner of speaking, as are all the characters in anything I bring into my world my focuses if I choose to SEE THEM FOR A MOMENT FROM THEIR FOCUS VIEWPOINT.”

                        “Ok, ok, no need to shout!”

                        “I’m not shouting, Leo, let me finish and stop interrupting! Adding another focus is an analogy in a way for adding another focus or point of view to mine.
                        Dividing the actions of adding focus viewpoints into sections is useful in order to comprehend the scope of possible actions, but only initially, and as more actions are experienced objectively, the sections and labels become limiting and confining.” Bea paused for a sip of coffee and a long draw on her cigarette. “But they do keep it manageable to some degree, it must be said” she added.

                        “Yes, keep it manageable, by all means, couldn’t agree more”

                        “Everyone’s puzzle game is their own,” Bea was on a roll. “And the same puzzle piece, or other focus in this case, for one, would fit equally well into a completely different puzzle game of someone else’s because all of the surrounding puzzle pieces of each individuals puzzle game are created in each moment and are chosen for their relevance to that moment.”

                        “Good point, dear.”

                        “Likewise an individuals puzzle game is a new one in each moment and the puzzle pieces are interchangeable within the same puzzle game, depending on their relevance to the moment and the chosen surrounding puzzle pieces.”

                        As usual with blazing flashes of illumination, Bea found that they were hard to form into words, and when she did manage to get them into words, they look so screamingly obvious.

                        “Does that make sense to you, Leo?” she asked.

                        “Er, I think so Bea, I’m getting the gist…”

                        Interrupting, Bea continued to describe her revelations to her now glassy eyed friend. “And on the subject of trusting, doubting, confusion and so on”

                        “Oh, yes, confusion…”

                        “We are here shiftING, not shiftED, this is what we are choosing.
                        With the variety of viewpoints we have, the shifted and the unshifted and the semi-shifted, there is always something new to notice from yet another new perspective. Why not get really enthusiastic about the ride itself instead of planning how to float through it with the least fuss ~ it’s more fun on the helter skelter with its many perspectives and view points than on the mill pond for those of us who choose shiftING.”

                        “I dunno, Bea, from my perspective floating on a millpond sounds rather pleasant.”

                        “Well, at least now we know that what we don’t know is there to know.”

                        “Yes, there’s no doubt about that!” relied Leonora, “Have you finished? That was all very interesting but don’t forget we invited everyone over for the Yule Boulder Moving party. We should get a move on with the preparations you know”

                        :yahoo_coffee:

                        #1927
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          On the subject of other focuses I had a blinding revelation in the
                          kitchen last night. As usual with my blazing flashes of illumination,
                          they are hard to form into words, and when I do try to get them into
                          words, they look so screamingly obvious, like D’uh, you mean you
                          didn’t realize that yet? LOL

                          Anyway, the moment was far clearer than the following words, but I
                          managed to get a few words out in chats to Eric and to Dawn which I
                          snipped together:

                          (bearing in mind that the focus directs so the question
                          of ‘directing’ essence is another choice of puzzle peice of the
                          individual puzzle game at any moment)

                          To connect to an individual focus is but a baby step towards being
                          able to comprehend the interconnectedness of everything that you
                          create and that it is all in fact you. (beginner stage as it were,
                          keep it manageable)

                          You draw to yourself parts (focus points/other focuses of All that
                          is) of the whole that are at that moment useful.

                          All of the characters in the story I write, for example, are my
                          focuses in a manner of speaking, as are all the characters in
                          anything I bring into my world my focuses if I choose to _see for a
                          moment from their focus view point_. Adding another focus is an
                          analogy in a way for adding another focus or point of view to mine.
                          Dividing the actions of adding focus viewpoints into sections is
                          useful in order to comprehend the scope of possible actions, but only
                          initially, and as more actions are experienced objectively, the
                          sections and labels become limiting and confining. (but they do keep
                          it manageable to some degree)

                          Everyones puzzle game is their own, and the same puzzle piece (or
                          other focus) for one, would fit equally well into a completely
                          different puzzle game of someone elses because all of the surrounding
                          puzzle peices of each individuals puzzle game are created in each
                          moment and are chosen for their relevance to that moment. Likewise an
                          individuals puzzle game is a new one in each moment and the puzzle
                          peices are interchangable within the same puzzle game, depending on
                          their relevance to the moment and the chosen surrounding puzzle
                          peices.

                          And on the subject of trusting, doubting, confusion etc:

                          We are here shiftING, not shiftED, this is what we are choosing.
                          With the variety of viewpoints we have, the shifted and the unshifted
                          and the semi shifted, there is always something new to notice from
                          yet another new perspective. Why not get really enthusisatic about
                          the ride itself instead of planning how to float through it with the
                          least fuss ~ it’s more fun on the helter skelter with it’s many
                          perspectives and view points than on the mill pond for those of us
                          who choose shiftING.

                          At least now we know that what we dont know is there to know.

                          #1253
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            Godfrey, I seem to have rather alot of Felicity’s. I had no idea there were so many,” Elizabeth said to her friend and publisher, Godfrey Pig Littleton. “I don’t know which Felicity is which now.”

                            “Well, which Felicity did you have in mind, dear? Felicity the downstairs maid? Or Felicity the DDT celebrity channeler?” asked Godfrey with a smirk. “Oh, was it perhaps Felicity the bridal goddess?”

                            “Oh stop! Now I’m thoroughly confused again.”

                            “Well, give me a clue old bean, what is the year in question? That should narrow it down.” Godfrey suggested.

                            “Are you mad?” screeched Elizabeth. “Are you mad? The last thing I’m likely to remember is what year it was, you know I always get the time lines all wrong. Well, you of all people should know that, Godfrey”.

                            “Well since you mention it, Liz, there is the question of the unlikelihood of portable channelvisions in travelling circus caravans in the year 1856, and I can’t help wondering how you’re going to rectify ….”

                            “Don’t you keep trying to rectify me, you old bounder! I have a plan for that, don’t you worry.”

                            #1250

                            — Well, to me it’s pretty obvious now that all that we put in this story kind of manifests quickly…
                            — Quite. The book, the magazine, the travels,… Amazing, even the most delirious things do actually manifest, even if not physically!
                            — Heck, no! Good thing not all that stuff manifests physically; well you can never be sure either, but seems some of it best be manifested in other ways.
                            — Or soon enough we’ll find a news coverage on it…
                            — Ahah, yeah. Now, I wonder…
                            — What?
                            — Should we keep that a…
                            — A what?
                            — You know the word, a S-E-C-R-E-T
                            — What?! Are you crazy?
                            — Well, one never knows; there might be all sorts of loonies out there wanting to insert all sorts of stuff in this book now.
                            — Ahahaha, you must be kidding; I thought WE were the loonies ;))
                            — You have a point… Well, I mean anyway, it’s not like it’s because of the book either; it’s just because we focus our intents through the writing, and pool energies…
                            — Indeed. And there are no such things as sea-crates anyway.
                            — So now the question is… What do we want to put in there for the next 6 months?
                            — Is it too late for foie gras and gingerbread toasts?

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