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  • #809

    Adorning the enormous wooden door of Chesterhope Mansion was a heavy bronze knocker in the shape of an ornate dragon. The door stood slightly open.

    Hello! Anyone there! Franiel called out several times, each time pushing the door open wider.

    Only an echoey silence responded.

    Franiel mindfully removed his boots. With a growing sense of excitement, as well as some slight trepidation if the truth be told, he entered the massive entrance hall. A black marble statue of a tiger reminded him curiously of his dream. To the left and right were doors, but after knocking gently, he found these to be locked.

    In the distance someone began to play the piano, a slow and simple melody. Franiel followed the faint sound to the door at the end of the hallway. He entered a massive dining room, in the center of which stood a very long table with 12 highbacked chairs. The furniture was heavy and dark, but sunlight streaming in through the window mercifully lightened the atmosphere.

    Crossing the room he entered the rear parlour from whence came the music. A woman sat with her back to him playing an upright piano. She had long grey hair, worn loose down her back. Franiel noticed how thin she was, and how straight she sat as her long fingers delicately caressed the keys.

    Hesitantly he knocked, not wishing to startle her. She stopped playing and turned towards him. Her face was gaunt, and such a pale colour, he found himself wondering if it had been a long time since she had seen the light of day. But her eyes were alive, bright and intense, and she did not seem awfully surprised to see him there.

    Hello she said, Who are you? I don’t think I have seen you here before.

    I am Franiel. I am sorry to arrive so unexpectedly … he began

    Oh no! you mustn’t be sorry, the woman interrupted, jumping up with a speed and agility which surprised Franiel given her otherwise frail appearance. She rushed over to him and then reached out and lightly touched his cheek. A look of wonder crossed her face and she stepped back.

    Oh my goodness! You are real! she exclaimed in astonishment. I thought you were one of the others.

    #771

    As Franiel walked along the path a beautiful being of light dropped down from the heavens and stood before him.

    — Hello Franiel where are you going?

    — no idea, said Franiel

    — well where do you want to go?

    — if i knew that i would go there. I am not stupid, said Franiel, a bit tersely. I know I can create anything i want.

    — tricky, said the Beautiful Being of Light ….well where don’t you want to go?

    — I know I don’t want to go back to the monastery .. … may i call you BBL? Beautiful Being of Light is a bit of a mouthful.

    — sure, no problem

    They stood in silence for quite some time.

    — I don’t want to live up in the mountains BBL. Detached, far from others, living a cloistered spiritual life. They said there was special magic in the mountains, but my belief is the magic is everywhere. Do you have any special knowledge, being a BBL? You know, to assist me in my path?

    — I do actually, said BBL

    #769
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Hang on a minute, Sam said to the Nanaconda. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve dealt with this bucket of dung.

      The rainbow Nanaconda raised her eyebrows (or gave the impression of that facial expression, at any rate).

      As Sam tipped the bucket out, hundreds of dung beetles scurried in every direction.

      Whoa! exclaimed Sam, taking an involuntary step backwards.

      Nanaconda sniggered in a somewhat sinister fashion and said, Ah, the Symbolic scarab beetles strike again.

      As Sam stood transfixed by the sight of the beetles running in all directions, an extraordinary thing happened. All the beetles stopped moving, as one, and then with a seemingly united purpose, they all started moving in the same direction. Within seconds a long black army of dung beetles marched off across the field.

      Sam picked up the empty bucket and followed them.

      Nanaconda followed him, grinning wickedly.

      #760
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Elvira eventually reached the 25th bush on the left at Nutley Park with a bag of assorted garments for the near naked Becky, but there was no sign of her. Elvira investigated the rain drenched foliage, and deduced correctly that the bush had recently been used as some kind of camoflage cover by a taller than average person, mixed race and probably naked.

        Elvira chortled with delight; she had loved her days as a private investigator, all those years ago. Well, she said to herself, With a combination of forensic and physical clues, and telepathic and remote viewing skills, I’ll have Becky into some dry – and decent! – clothes in no time at all. Elvira stood quite still (in the torrential rain, which drew a few puzzled glances from the people rushing past), with her eyes closed and a happy contented smile hovering about her lips.

        Elvira was connecting to Becky, but she was picking up diverse and nonsensical impressions. A moose running up a flight of stairs, a monk sitting in the road talking about a cup……

        Pffft, said Elvira, no point in pushing it. Let’s have a look at the physical clues.

        There was an obvious trail of flattened wet grass footprints which meandered, at an incongrously liesurely pace, Elvira noted, in a random higgledy-piggledly fashion between the bushes, and occasionally in circles.

        Elvira set off along the trail with a spring in her sprightly old step and an aura of pleasant anticipation. She loved following a trail of clues! My, my, she said to herself, this is what I’ve been missing. Hhhmmm…..

        #750
        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          I take it from that you don’t know where the wedding dress is currently. Well if you do come across it would you mind letting Felicity know. said Tina haughtily, switching the phone off abruptly.

          Al’s words running through her head she started walking quickly nowhere in particular.

          Tina, what’s the point of these experiments we have been doing with Becky and Sam if you are going to keep relying on the phone all the time? And why are you trying to sort out the dress for Felicity, it isn’t your problem.

          It wasn’t the so much the words which had stung, after all he was right, it was the annoyance she thought she had heard in his voice.

          She felt him making contact, quickly blocked, feeling too hurt to be open.

          She knew he was tired, god knows he had put so much into the wedding preparations, as he did with all his projects. He was fast building a reputation for his ground breaking experiments with body processes. Tina loved Al whatever he looked like, which was just as well really considering some of the rather bizarre effects he managed to produce.

          Becky had been a bit irritated with her as well, Tina you are so last decade, nay century even! she would say, rolling her large eyes dramatically. Becky too was racing confidently and exuberantly ahead. Her intriguing contributions to the reality play never failed to amaze Tina. Her own contributions felt stolid, words trapped in a big gluggy ball of last century energy, she had to work hard to extricate each one.

          It was nearly dark, raining harder now, wind-driven rain. Tina liked it, the rain complemented her mood and disguised the self-pitying tears streaming down her face. There were very few people in the street. Just the long line of shop windows, glass faces warmly lit, overhangs offering some shelter from the rain, though it wasn’t shelter Tina was looking for.

          Her long hair whipped around her face, wet blue satin clung to her slim frame.

          Sam had taken off unexpectedly and suddenly to Australia. He had been gone only a few days and she missed him. Dear Sam, his wicked and irrepressible sense of humour could make her laugh even in the blackest of moods. He too was playing with new potentials, forging new and exciting paths.

          The others are probably all communicating with their advanced telepathic skills right now, laughing at dumb old last century Tina, she thought morosely. In fact even last century I would have been so last century, judging by my spectacular lack of success at anything I have undertaken recently. A vision of her recent humiliation in the ballet dancing class sprang to mind. She winced and quickly blocked the distressing image of the dance teacher drawing her aside after class and gently suggesting she might try the Ancient Kuzhebar Motional Practices beginner’s class, to get some basic rhythm, before attempting the ballet. ….

          An elderly woman who had disembarked at the nearby gondola stop splashed by her, and, illuminated momentarily by the street lamp, Tina felt a flash of recognition. The woman turned suddenly towards her, smiled, gesticulated with her free hand, the other was clutching a large bag, towards some distant bushes. She mouthed some words at Tina, but these were lost in the wind. Tina waved and managed a reciprocal smile.

          She noticed a Positivity Robot parked in front of Samantha Lingerie, and found herself drawn towards it, 3D images of models wearing the latest in underwear fashions rotated in the shop’s window, their faces beaming irritatingly at her. These Positivity Robots had been all the rage in the early 2020’s, you did not see as many of them now. On impulse she stood in front of the robot, touched the screen, allowing it to read her energy. “negative 21” its glass face discreetly informed her. The words “I AM PERFECT flashed up on the screen as a suggested thought pattern to implement. Tina grimaced. I wonder how low I can make this damn thing go. The idea made her giggle and to her alarm shot the meter up to a positive 12. Bugger, a bad start!

          What am I going to do with myself, Mr PR, if you are so positively smart?

          I AM PERFECT…. I AM PERFECT …. I AM PERFECT ….

          perfectly grumpy, perfectly insecure, perfectly last decade, perfectly soaked to the skin, Tina watched as the meter climbed all the way up to 55.

          She glanced at the shop window, just as a smiling model wearing a minuscule open net dress and nun’s habit rotated by. She felt an inexplicable burst of amusement as the meter climbed to 57.

          #749

          Malika and her dog Leo stood at the entrance of the cave and was so excited to see the little draggies, she screamed with joy… and sent such loving, tender energy into the cave that all the little draggies came out to play with her and Leo, and familiarize themselves with each other. There was a mother dragon that resided inside the cave and as Malvina put her head inside the entrance, she was met with a smile, from the mother of whom was sitting atop a purplish egg.

          The Mother Dragon introduced herself as Glordieoun…and said, softly, that this cave was a portal to her world, and a birthing chamber for all mother dragons, that were to be stationed there. It was a pregnancy chamber, a hatching chamber and a childcare chamber, that served the little draggies until they were able to fly themselves, and all the other attributes were in place, for them to be independent.

          Glordieoun, said, that she was a bit tired and required some rest, but that she was glad that Malika finally found her way to the house, as her and all her people, knew they were now in safe and caring hands.

          #738

          Leonard stood up, stretched, and began to make strange movements with his body, much to the delight of Mouffle who leapt around him joyously barking.

          Are you alright, Leonard? asked Franiel, a little concerned by Leonard’s gyrations. His voice sounded odd to his own ears, as though it came from a spot somewhere behind him. He was even unsure if he had spoken the words out loud.

          Leonard chuckled, and Franiel joined in, though why he did so he was not sure.

          I am very well indeed, thank you, Franiel. I am performing the motional practices of Ancient Kuzhebar aborigines. It is an excellent technique for straightening the mind. Perhaps you would like to join me?

          Although I am sure my mind would benefit from straightening, perhaps I will just watch for now, said Franiel, feeling a persuasive tiredness sweep over his body. It must be the nectar, he mused. He lay back on the grassy verge, and though he tried his hardest, he found it impossible to keep his eyes open. I will close them just for a moment, he thought.

          #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!

            #703

            So you have requested audience… a deep voice, hoarse as a water’s torrent running and jumping on a river bed smothered with pebbles, asked from the darkness.

            Midora was not afraid of the darkness. As best as she could explain it, it was the void of creation, where everything came from, and where all was stripped of intrinsic meaning. It was from this place that she could reach for the answers.

            She knew this place, she felt memories swirling around, as uncatchable as a swarm of short-lived sparkles born from the reddish embers of a dying fire.
            In this lifetime, she was only a eleven year old girl, but she was as old as this voice within her. There was a time where she was playing with that voice, a time where her being was not yet, and yet a time which was in her future.
            She was pure consciousness in that dream time space, and yet, she was feeling more comfortable with physical symbols around herself. So she focused on one of the symbols that she knew would help her stabilize her vibration, and in doing so, all the small particles of golden light around her started to swirl and coalesced into a dream body.

            She was in front of a cave, in a mountainous area. This body provided her a slowing down of the stream of information that came to her, and she could manipulate more efficiently the interaction with that huge presence she felt. The precipitous rocky environment was a symbol of that steadiness and slowing down and also, for her benefit of her beliefs in that acquiring such information might be a difficult task.
            Now she had identified it, she could more easily dispel the obstacles on the path to the cave. The cave of course, was her symbol for reaching into her deep inner nature. And the darkness was only a fitting blank canvas for herself to project and translate the energy interactions.
            All of that she knew, as it was knowledge embedded into herself that she could more easily access into this trance-like state, in her room in that location in space and time of 2112 in New Venice. And she knew that also for she was taught by her parents, Bart and Oscar, on how to access it.

            The voice was inside the cave. And no sooner had she thought of it that she was finding the whole place morphing into a vast room built into the rock, in the middle of which a majestic golden dragon was slowly breathing.
            She had translated the vast energy as that of a dragon, but she knew when she felt into it that it had possible variations, one of which being that of a she-phoenix, of various sizes, where sizes where symbolic of its age and wisdom.

            You may call me Naasir the dragon grinned at Midora. You are right, in a sense, you can consider yourself being born from me, though in your true form, you are equally august and splendid as I am. You will, in time, have access to that form, again. But for now, I can provide some answers to your questions. The only thing is… Are your questions up to the challenge? he added with the most benevolent smirk his wide toothed grin could convey.

            Midora pondered for a moment, beholding the perfection of her translation of the energy. Each scale on the body of the dragon was a work of art. His half-closed eyes, with an amber shiny center, and teal border were equally mesmerizing.

            :fleuron:

            — What is the significance of these books I have inherited from my parents?

            As you know, this place is the place were significance fades away, or radiates, depending on the direction in which you look, only to be replaced by fulfillment. Your… books hence, have no significance, I would say, for me at least. What do you want to know about them?

            — They were passed from people to people, and as far as I understood, they started to be imprinted with these people’s stories, starting from my grand-parents Indy and Cuthbert. But there are still blank pages inside them, and no seeming order from one page to the other. I think that’s why my grand-parents grew tired of it.

            Continue…

            — What I mean is… I feel attracted to them, and yet I don’t understand how they work…

            These… are not mere books as your ancestors understood them. In fact, they were crafted by a distant civilization, not denizens from this dimension in which you are presently focused, but travelers, with whom you can still interact by means of this device. When the “books” traveled into this dimension, they retained their initial properties and functioning, but their initial shapes were translated into something as close as you could understand so that you would allow them to appear into your reality. This knowing might help you unravel their true nature.

            Another thing. Books are energy deposits, in your reality. There was a misunderstanding in that they were thought to be able to liber or to free your memory by imprinting it into the pages, but memories are alive and not separate from you. They live as you live and change them. So, the books are still being written, and that which you can read is the part of the book which is the most probable story in which you choose to insert yourself, so as to explore it. You can alter these probabilities, even if you might doubt it, but as you chose them, they are much a part of your design of your reality, that which you chose to explore. In short, a complete book means the end of your exploration, and prompts for a disengagement for you to continue other explorations, and on the contrary, a blank books means a boundless realm of probable explorations.

            — Can you tell me why there are two of them?

            They are more than a couple. These ones are the only known ones that your ancestors happen to have found. Most of them have been destroyed over time in this dimension, as their possibilities were heavily cloaked. They are all linked together, as you will find out. You may gather some answers in finding Badul

            And with that, Midora was once again floating in an intermediate state hung between space and time, longing for her physical body. She woke up strangely energized…

            #702

            There was a tantalizing scent of wildflowers and meadowgrass in the still cool air of the cave, and as Sanso rounded a bend in tunnel a gentle breeze ruffled the folds of his robes. He quickened his pace, gladdened by the welcome promise of an adventure outside of the endless labyrinth. The air felt cool and warm at the same time, and deliciously fresh and clean as it wafted towards him, and with a feeling of immense joy, he heard a snatch of birdsong.

            It seemed like many long years that he’d been trudging around in the gloom and the stale air of the caves, although he suspected it wasn’t as long as that. Time played tricks on him, he knew that, while he was wandering around in the darkness. He’d missed Arona, and that strange baby, when he’d first set off alone again, but not for long. He knew when it was time to move on, and so he’d left them. From time to time he wondered if he’d encounter them again, and knew he would.

            A shaft of sunlight spilled into the tunnel and Sanso stepped out into the light. The breeze was fluttering the birch leaves high above him, as he squinted up at the pale blue sky. Grinning happily, Sanso took his time adjusting to the light. He sat cross legged on the soft green grass, feeling it springy beneath his hands. Hundreds and thousands of red and yellow spotted toadstools stretched out as far as he could see, carpeting the forrest floor with polkadots of colour.

            Sanso looked down at his hands. The creases of his skin and under his nails were engrained with reddish dust, and he wanted water more than anything, gurgling bubbling fresh clean water. He stood up, and shook his robes a bit, and set off into the woods.

            Intuition told him which way to go to find water. He marvelled at tiny flowers, and scampering insects along the way, squashing fungi beneath his bare feet which oozed up through his toes with little squeaky noises.

            A rabbit ran accross his path and stopped momentarily to stare at him and Sanso laughed out loud.

            Oh! Who’s there?

            A girl in bright flowered skirts was sitting on the grass in a clearing just ahead, rubbing her eyes.

            Whoa, I must be dreaming, she said, and rubbed her eyes again. She peered at the apparition in indigo robes, with skin the colour of tobacco and wild matted hair. Am I dreaming? she asked Sanso.

            Perhaps, perhaps not, replied Sanso, who wasn’t really sure. I may be dreaming myself. My name is Sanso, anyway, what’s yours?

            Zhana, the girl replied, Well, Uncle Grishenka calls me Zhanochka, but I…but I….I hate him, and I’m not going back! And much to her surprise, she burst into tears.

            Sanso was momentarily non-plussed, and wondered what to do next.

            Well, dear, if you don’t want to go back, why, then don’t go back! He wasn’t quite sure what the problem was; after all, he’d been wandering for so many years on impulse and whim he hardly knew any other way to go about it.

            I don’t know where to go instead though, Zhana said tearfully. The long dark cold will be here again soon, and I must have shelter somewhere…..who will have me, besides Uncle Grishenka?

            What long dark cold? asked Sanso. It seemed light enough and warm enough here.

            Oh, my! Zhana was astonished. You ask me what long dark cold? Where have you come from? How is it you don’t know of the long dark cold? Oh! Are you from Nishanti’s place?

            Zhana stood up in some considerable excitement. Can you take me to Nishanti’s place? Oh please say yes!

            Well, I, er, um…..well, I suppose so. Well, yes! Sanso didn’t want to let the girl down, although he wasn’t altogether sure he knew where Nishanti’s place was. But he was game to give it a try, and the company of the girl would be a welcome change.

            Tell me about Nishanti, then, Zhana, and what her place is like. Sanso was hoping a few clues might ring a bell, perhaps.

            Nishanti has been my friend for as long as I can remember, Zhana said. We dream together mostly, well, Zhana blushed, Uncle Grishenka says it’s all in my head…he say’s it’s nonsense….

            Zhana squared her shoulders and carried on. Sanso had a kind look, and nodded encouragingly.

            She hardly wears any clothes, and her skin is warm and brown. The sun always shines and the sky is always deep blue in her place and we play outside all year long. There’s always warm ripe fruits to eat, not turnips and noodles, colourful juicy berries and plump pink fishy things, and there are flowers all year long, and the water isn’t frozen, we can play in the water and it doesn’t turn our hands blue…..

            Ah, the other side of the world…hhhmmm…..Sanso rubbed his whiskery chin thoughtfully.

            Ok, I can’t promise we can find Nishanti, but I think we can find the other side of the world. But first, I’d like to find some water, and perhaps a little fresh food?

            Zhana whooped with delight, and flung her arms around Sanso. Yes, yes!

            #1670

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              :yahoo_big_hug:

              The other day .. yesterday … ? Raven’s name came up. Was it in relation to a dream of Sashi, Stasha, Sahahahahaha? … or something?

              Well no matter, the point is that Tracy mentioned him. Well I didn’t know much about Raven, just that he made me laugh. There are a couple of jokes we had that stood out for me, and I am sorry Tracy … but I have to be honest …. one was the picture of Tracy with a sort of funny head thing on with baubles on it she sometimes posted as her avatar. And Raven put a note in my blog saying “should we tell Tracy she is wearing a doily on her head?” and this joke went on for some time because we both found it hysterically funny. Well I am not sure if Tracy did. :yahoo_worried: He often posted funny pictures as well, one of these I had swiped off his blog at one point because I liked it. (It was a funny road sign )

              Well yesterday I had been thinking of Raven wondering where he had got to, and my sister sent me an email with an attachment of this same picture of RAven’s I had swiped. Then I went for a walk down the road and there was a woman with A DOILY ON HER HEAD! (It was a real doily, maybe she was trying to keep the sun from her head, I am not sure) anyway, thinking of Raven, I started laughing to myself, (quietly), and I swear I could sense Raven feeling delighted that I had got the joke.

              Hope that all makes sense, it is quite early and I am having trouble waking today. :yahoo_yawn:

              :yahoo_rose: a rose for the maligned doily

              #647

              When Felicity had taken the job, she had thought at first that it was all a big interstellar joke…
              Come on… Dead people speaking though living?
              But a few recent experiences made her feel there was kind of warmth surrounding her when she started the radiophonic sessions, and that she was feeling… inspired, for lack of a better word.
              Words indeed were coming and flowing, and even though she was rarely speechless, the words did have some different quality.
              And people enjoyed the show greatly, and mails kept coming to the radio thanking DDT for all of the marvelous advices…

              Till then, as she was conscious of the process, she had refrained issuing some definite statements on future events, as the inspiration was pressing her to do at times. As subtle as all of this was, she was feeling it was not really the same energy as the warm one; it was like incursions of a quicker and less stable bouncy energy.
              It was pushing her to make cocky statements, on mass events about to come… Oh, not again self-fulfilling prophecies, please! she couldn’t help but think…

              At times, Felicity was even wondering whether she was really going completely crazy.
              Oh, it was so much simpler to be a genuine fraud…

              :fleuron:

              — Arky, come here at once!
              — But, I’ve done nothing…
              — Stop being such a jackanapes, will you… You know very well there is no secret…
              — Yes…

              Despite his being immaterial, it was obvious that the One referred to as Arky was being scolded.

              — And you know perfectly well there is nothing to gain in pushing things…
              — But I intended well…
              — I know that. As generations of focuses of leaders and presidents have been doing. One would have assumed you’d knew better by now… I can see you’re enjoying being with me on the soapbox, but either you find your own, or you better stay clear next time we get a communication.
              — Understood.
              — Fine, class dismissed.

              #627

              Franiel offered his congratulations to Aum Geog along with the others. He did not mind that he was not himself chosen to succeed Hrih Chokyam, and neither would he have expected it, however he felt the physical absence of the Old One keenly. His powerful presence had cloaked the whole monastery in a sweet warmth, and even though Franiel had only been there a short while, he had felt close to the Old One. Of course his spirit will always be here, but the same time Franiel knew change was inevitable, and he was unsure of his own place within the boundaries of the monastery. Happiness and fun were valued highly by Franiel, they were more important to him than all the spiritual ideals others would speak of, and he had felt a slight greyness of late. He found humility difficult and did not enjoy following rules, neither did he enjoy listening to the wisdom of the other brothers. At times his sense of humor would cause them to frown upon him. He knew the Old One had understood this, but now he was gone he wondered how he would fit. He pulled out the note Jog Lam had given him from Hrih Chokyam, Listen to your heart…. it began. What was his heart telling him?

              Brother Franiel!. He heard the voice of Aba Tane calling him. The Brothers were shortly meeting to hear Aum Geog speak, presumably to announce the new direction for the monastery.

              Brother Franiel, Aum Geog has requested you take this chalice to the Village, so the silversmith may engrave it with these words. Aba Tane handed Franiel a cup, and a piece of paper with a seal. He requested you should go right away and that you should remember that the cup is precious. He requested also that I sprinkle you with some Holy Water to safeguard you on your way. In customary manner, Franiel knelt and Aba Tane sprinkled the precious bottled water on his forehead. Love and Light, Brother Franiel. Blessings for your journey.

              It was several days walking down the mountain to the Village. To be honest though, it was a task Franiel welcomed, perhaps to be away from the monastery at this time would give him a chance to better hear what was in his heart, and to miss the meeting was no loss for him.

              He wondered at the haste, and at what the words might be, however it was not his business to question the directives of Aum Geog. He remembered also his dream of the silver goblet. Many things to ponder, he mused, a feeling of excitement growing within him.

              #612

              It’d been two hexades that the Abbot Hrih Chokyam Lin’potshee had been laying in bed in poor condition.
              At first, he had wanted to be as strong as he had always been towards hardships, but he’d finally admitted that quelching the pain wasn’t doing any good to him. So he had agreed to be taken care of by a young monk, and to lay in bed as long as was necessary.
              He knew that he was very likely not to get out of that bed but with his body covered by a white sheet, nevertheless, the thought was still something distant. The pain in his body was making him so present to himself that the only thing that was still blatant was that he was.
              More than the body, it was all his faith that was shaken. He had thought he would leave this life without mess, without pain, probably very discreetly in his sleep… But now, his head was wincing at every noise, even the nature’s sounds that once felt like music to his ears, he was eschewing them now as much as he could. His very skin was hot and couldn’t bear even the soft contact of the bedsheets.
              What was the point of all of this? He had never doubted that everything had its purpose, but now, he was doubting…
              He was even trying to find some reasonable reasons for what was happening, he who never trusted in reasonable reasons in the first place. Perhaps that was because of his seating under the chilly air and the warm sun in front of the Meditation Wall, reading for all of the poems that had been written by the monks who had dared to write. Perhaps he had “taken cold”, whatever that means…
              “Perhaps not” the voice kept saying softly in his head.

              Now, his whole succession was feeling like a moot point. After all, he was not even capable of saving himself from anything, then how could what he created make the slightest difference? These were all like an extension of his body, bound to decay and come back to Earths.

              Not so many monks had dared write upon the Wall about their highest truth. A few jokesters had begun at first, helping the others to participate.
              One in particular had had Hrih laugh for quite a while.

              A toad is a toad
              Unless kissed
              Endless Bliss

              Then a dozen of others had flourished upon the wall, until Aum Geong decided to write his own. He’d not wanted to go first, to allow the others to express without the burden of comparison, and also to have some more time to write something deep and thoughtful. But that profusion of nonsense between some occasional pearls of wisdom made him write his own.

              Unattainable is the Truth
              For in the Dust of things
              All in our View is bleak

              Doing Wrong we forswear
              For Dust to be lifted
              And Wisdom we seek

              In the deed of the Elders
              And the Faith in the Community
              Light and Trust bespeak

              All the monks had been quite impressed, but Hrih had not been entirely satisfied by it… To be honest, he even completely disagreed with it.
              Now, however, stuck in this bed, the poem was playing in his head and suggesting that the Worlds were something terrible that he had not yet understood, or be willing to avoid seeing. Perhaps Aum Geong was wiser than he was.
              Perhaps all that Hrih had put as foundational to his life had all been Dust…
              “There is no Dust, and you know that” the voice whispered softly.

              Now that he is about to die, what difference will it make anyway…
              He reach out for a bowl of water, and almost let it fall, as the weight of it surprised him. He was becoming so weak… He never had been so self-conscious in many many many years.

              After he had propped himself up to drink a few burning swallows of the lukewarm water, he noticed something folded on his bedside, that had been put under the bowl… Young Franiel had been the one attending him with Jog Lam, so it must have been the doing of one of them. He intuited that was Franiel.

              As he read the stanzas, tears were in his eyes…

              I am the driftwood
              the wave carried me
              I was buried in sand

              I am the flower
              the butterfly touched me
              I fell in love

              I am the raindrop
              the cloud released me
              I became the ocean

              The Young monk had probably not dared write it on the Wall, especially after most of the monks’ vocal appreciations of Aum Geong’s poem…
              “Perhaps not” the voice again spoke.
              Another reason for it formed into Hrih’s mind. Franiel perhaps didn’t feel ready for such responsibilities and his role and fulfillment in this community was not form rules nor to continue it.
              It was more to inspire them, and perhaps to start his own discoveries.

              Hrih wrote a note behind the paper. He wanted to leave something for Franiel, for him to keep faith in his coming adventures during these coming times of change.
              After a deep breath, he took another paper that was with him for already such a long time, wrote down some words, and signed it, the aura of his hand burning a glyph that was his signature in the paper. He then called for Jog Lam.

              — Jog Lam, my friend…
              — Elder?
              — I’m dying…
              — I know Elder
              — Let me continue. (Jog Lam nodded)
              First, will you give that paper to Young Franiel after the cremation ceremonies. (Jog Lam nodded again)
              Second, I want you to relay that I have made my decision, and that Aum Geog will succeed me (Jog Lam’s surprise was noticeable in his eye). He is, to date, the most adequate successor for this monastery.
              — I will do as you want.
              — Thank you my friend.
              — Elder…
              — Farewell, my friend, I am always with you.

              When Jog Lam stoically left the room, Hrih Chokyam laid down, his eyes on the ceiling. His body was so weak that all he could do was to project behind his closed eyelids and see the starry sky, even if he would have wanted something different for his death. He would have loved something like a nap in a sunlit meadow with a little singing brook.
              But seeing the actual World was something even more precious to him. The barren mountains of the icy season, the clear unclouded sky. His mind was so full of energy that his body lacked.

              With a deep feeling of gratitude for his body, he bid it farewell.

              #1991

              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

              F LoveF Love
              Participant

                Arona perfect focus mind
                growing process, gone self within.
                Dragon seen truth
                apparently far understood magic body
                Finn beautiful, morning asked space, eyes, world seemed inside
                air feel energies close
                link familiar?
                forgotten already years mean face
                Twilight singing, soon change flowing
                Perhaps girl read star
                turned to sleep, ask energy dreams

                #588
                Jib
                Participant

                  Georges and Salome’s journal

                  From Georges’ account of their first journey to the Alienor star system

                  It’s our first attempt to use the Jorid to move through dimensions. Well the trip was worth it. I enjoyed it tremendously. I felt so elastic and inside-outed… :))
                  We had already gone through the Jorid to distant locations of our own dimension, but it’s slightly different. The adjustments of the encoding part of the physical manifestation is but one part of it.

                  Our joint focus had led us to a particularly interesting dimension. I know I have already many focuses in it as Salome has too. Maybe it was what created the draw to this dimension. We just didn’t choose to focus at the same time and space… it was our choice. We are so strongly connected that it is not important. We can reach each other awarenesses at will and communicate so fully at any moment.
                  It seemed to me that I already had a comprehension of the structure of this dimension. I’m not aware yet of when or how I did that but I understood that Salome wanted to take time, though time is not really relevant to describe the process of assimilation she was undergoing.

                  I felt drawn to the Duane. I was feeling some strong resonance in the vibrations of the people of this “planet”, but it was not really a planet like our planet Earth in our dimension. I still don’t understand fully how it is created, but the shape is quite flexible, so to speak. I had chosen to manifest different qualities, relevant to my current exploration which could be translated as physical strength and sharp intellect, and a strong persuasive energy.

                  Physically focused I could feel Salome in the RA2 of this dimension where a part of my attention was continuously focused. She already had made contact with different beings of the Duane in their dreams, preparing my coming so to speak :)) but her main focus of attention was directed to the Murtuane where I had hidden a few surprises for her. I’m sure she will appreciate the attention ;))

                  #574
                  Jib
                  Participant

                    Despite his gloomy mood, Yann was quite aware that the idea of Yurick was paralleling his own desire to make his dreams public… It’d been several days now that he was thinking more and more to write them on his different web supports… but he hadn’t really created the time or the inspiration to do so.

                    Yann was feeling a bit forced since a few days… he couldn’t say or pinpoint the “origin”, though you could say HE was the origin, he wasn’t ready to accept this answer yet :)) he wanted to enjoy his victim feeling for a few days… Still it wasn’t very satisfying.

                    Yann sighed.

                    Well, all his life he really had understood others couldn’t give him the answers or tell him what to do, and still he had wanted to mimic them in their quests for a solution, their quest for happiness… he really realized that it wasn’t a natural movement to him. It had seemed at times that he could be aware of his desires, his direction… though today every action seemed like an effort, something you have to struggle for… well once again he got his own answer… he was struggling. It was already more flexible and smoother… his energy was feeling lighter, and he could se the other obstacles against which he was struggling.

                    He sighed again, but it was more a release and a relaxation now.

                    Well he had some dreams to note down.

                    #1976

                    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Worry … dark, floating
                      often deep.
                      Moon seems noticed
                      calling Armelle
                      apparently loved, understood
                      slowly wandering, beautiful … follow.
                      Wanted change!
                      Quiet, opened, wondering.
                      Happening became important,
                      easily smiled, dancing, random
                      Looking. Seeing.

                      :fleuron:

                      Book started change, needed funny truth

                      #499

                      Thanksgiving, 1847

                      That last business trip in British Honduras had proven fruitful to Aldous. It had almost made him forget about the blue bull of the Disperso family.
                      Because Aldous was a collector. No one truly understood what were his motivations, but he was driven by the highest ideals. Some treasures weren’t deserved by the profane, he was thinking as he was munching on a tender juicy turkey leg.
                      He belched with profound depth.
                      Yes, he was doing everything with utmost depth and dedication.

                      Take that blue bull for instance… A gift from Indian officials he had managed to have them bring here. Its real place was in a zoo, with a small fee at the entrance of course, but most importantly some information on how it was acquired and by whom. Definitely not in the farm of some hillbillies just because they have happened to win that stupid rodeo contest.
                      In any case, he would put that right again in due time.

                      Let’s think of more pleasant things. Like these mahogany traders who had came into contact with remote Mayan tribes. Mahogany was nice, but Mayan treasure were even more interesting.

                      #461

                      Jose Maria stood sadly in front of the plate glass window. He avoided looking in mirrors, tried to forget his disfiguring scars, but occasionally he caught sight of his reflection in a window, and it always came as a shock. He avoided leaving the finca as much as possible, but had felt obliged to visit his frail and aged mother in the Residencia old folks home. His uncle Juan had come trundling up the dirt track to the farm in his clapped out old Citroen van, with the news that Josefina was expected to die within the week, and Jose Maria had agreed to make the trip into town.

                      A pointless trip really, Josefina hadn’t recognized him, had called him Sally at first, and tried to kiss him; and then later she’d shrunk from him in fear, calling him Pierre.

                      *****
                      Three days later Josefina was dead. Jose was required to make another trip into town, much to his dismay, to the funeral. He stood quietly at the back during the ceremony, next to his cousin Paquita, who was attempting to hide a bad case of acne behind her long black hair. Jose Maria smiled at her kindly, and she smiled gratefully back.

                      Paquita and Jose stayed close to each other for the rest of the day, and Paquita’s family invited Jose to spend the night at their apartment in town. Jose hesitated, but when he noticed Paqui’s hopeful expression, he relented and accepted courteously.

                      Long after the rest of the family had gone to bed, Jose and Paqui sat on the balcony overlooking the industrial estate and the superstores, in companiable silence. Jose’s scars, and Paquita’s acne no longer visible in the darkness, they had both relaxed, and wondered vaguely why they’d never really noticed each other before.

                      Paqui broke the silence. Well, you’ll have no worries now about money, Joselito.

                      What do you mean? asked Jose.

                      Well, Josefina won the lottery, and you’re her only child, Jose, it will all be yours.

                      Jose’s mouth opened and closed like a goldfish. Lottery? Oh you must be mistaken, my mother doesn’t have any money. WHAT lottery win?

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