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  • #620
    F LoveF Love
    Participant

      The Story Vincentius told to Arona

      I was seven when my father died. He leapt into a swollen river to help a neighbor who was drowning. He saved the neighbor but could not save himself. Everyone called him a hero but my mother called him a stupid fool. She was filled with sadness for her loss, and anger that he would leave her in such a way. I remember she got a pair of big scissors from the sewing box and cut off her long hair. For weeks after that I would see her move her hand to brush her long hair away and suddenly realise it was no longer there and I would see her go still. Then her body would slump and she would stand there looking lost and not knowing what to do. One day her heart just stopped beating. They said she died of grief but I think it was that life had become an empty hole that just got deeper and darker. I don’t think that is the same as grief, but maybe it is. My three older sisters and I cried and cried when my father died, but I never once saw her cry.

      When my mother died we had to cry in secret, because my Grandmother Naja moved in to take care of us. She didn’t believe in crying. There were many things she didn’t believe in. Grandmother Naja ate like a bird, looked like a piece of old leather and moved like a skittery rabbit.

      Vincentius she would say to me, peering at me shortsightedly, you need to get bigger. Your parents are dead and you are now the man of the house. Every day she would poke me in the ribs and say Vincentius, you need to get bigger”. Every time she poked me I remembered all over again that I was not good enough and that my parents were dead.

      One day she sent Taffy, the second oldest sister out to the garden to get a cabbage. But there were no cabbages left the garden. Well! said Grandmother Naja, I can’t cook cabbage broth without any cabbage. So she gave Taffy a coin and sent my sisters into the Village to buy a cabbage from the market.

      I begged to go too.

      You are too small and you are too slow! said my sisters

      Eventually though they gave in to my pleading.

      I have often wondered if I knew the events that day would bring, if I would have begged so hard to go, mused Vincentius

      to be continued …

      #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.

        #1604

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        F LoveF Love
        Participant

          While I was cleaning today there was a music doco playing on tv …. I was thinking about our story when I tuned in to the television where they were talking about David Bowie using fishbowl technique to help him with lyrics cut out technique. This seems similar to our word cloud. Not so much a synch, however I thought it was quite interesting and thought it might be fun to try when I get stuck in my writing.

          #1992

          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Pain interesting …. :help: dark quickly, game change, lost obviously, bring bandages,

            weird weather. :weather-few-clouds:

            Whatever …

            Franiel wondering … yellow color …. raft named random truth? Try move nothing. Perhaps heart speak sometimes quiet. Thinking energy….remember herself moments, process inside light, past help outside …. wait, familiar wall happening … floating mind sea movement.

            Yurick noticed …. told mummy story, attention Bronkelhampton. :mummy: Joe tell sheriff spiders answer, bugger party!
            Cold worry gone …. laughing. Dear bright cave, already connected.

            :yahoo_rose:

            #1602

            In reply to: Synchronicity

            F LoveF Love
            Participant

              In the local newspaper today there was a full page story on an isolated monastery, Southern Star Monastery, in Hawkes Bay. I had not ever heard of it before. Anyway the story talked about the election of one of the Brothers to Abbot, which is a six year term thing, and the plans for the future expansion of the monastery …to welcome others and be an oasis of peace for the wandering traveller. The Brother who is Abbot is Brother Keogh, which sounds a bit like Geog….

              Southern Star Abbey

              #1871
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Alice: But I’m NOT a serpent, I tell you! I’m a — I’m a —
                The Pigeon: Well! WHAT are you? I can see you’re trying to invent something!
                Alice: I — I’m a little girl.
                The Pigeon: A likely story indeed! I’ve seen a good many little girls in my time, but never ONE with such a neck as that! No, no! You’re a serpent; and there’s no use denying it. I suppose you’ll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!

                :-??

                #90
                TracyTracy
                Participant

                  Franci, far too busy herself to start a new discussion, has asked me, on her behalf, to start a Quiz section. Let me put that another way, Franci and I were…oh hang on, news hot off the press, Eric has a quiz plug somewhere….

                  Test your grasp on the storys plot! Have you really remembered all the connections? Can YOU name who is whose focus? And what about the timeline, do you really know? Test yourself here, in the coming posts.

                  #1984

                  In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    TIME TO face THE words, LONG forgotten. Georges DIDN’T understand BUT SANSO noticed AND askED ABOUT THE trip. TED wondered ABOUT THE saloon, AND BECKY WONDERED ABOUT DR bronklehampton AND ALL THAT money. CLUES within key POINTS following huge COMMENTS, ALL happening NOW. A NICE round read gave ME AN INSIGHT TO THE times OF THE story THIS morning.

                    :yahoo_idk:

                    #1983

                    In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      THE book, OR THE story HAD MANY aspects. sam AND everyone INCLUDING THE family WERE behind AND COULDN’T tell WHICH body WAS perfect AND WHICH WAS blue. SO MANY synch’S caught MY EYE, AND ALL WERE key. WHATEVER age YOU ARE, A random READ IS QUITE AN experience. ALL eyes ARE able TO SEE THE light, WHETHER IT BE lemon, god OR whatever. A huge followING, full OF nice focused structures.

                      :yahoo_applause:

                      #1853
                      TracyTracy
                      Participant

                        LOL Bridgy! If you can understand this story, please explain it to me! haha!! :yahoo_tongue:

                        #1851
                        bridgybridgy
                        Participant

                          Hi Jib and All ..i am following your shared links for to know more about the yellow princess…
                          now i am here at page 1 of 8 .. and am curious as ..what ? :-) where i find page 2 – – – – > 3 – – – >4 – — – >5
                          or i impression this number is the space at this page fort he further story unfolding (?)
                          oky let me know that and also if there is a link to feeds(for to see when updated) .. and is that the story you alone create or is it allowed to make entries .
                          sigh … :-) ! at least i am happy to be here now !
                          by :games:

                          good night to all, :heart: bridgy

                          #1978

                          In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                          Jib
                          Participant

                            :yahoo_thinking: I think the noise is really related to the story ;))
                            this scrying is quite clear to me.

                            book understand sam %{color:red}tomkin%* friends tell longer heard happening action already smiled calling joe asked must self experience images given love

                            #563
                            Jib
                            Participant

                              — I just added one of her focus in the story too. Her name is Lola, whispered Sam to Al.

                              #1971

                              In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                              Jib
                              Participant

                                hahahaha and another ;)) whith Quitin’s children??? did he had them with Yann :D?

                                children quintin loved game dreams saloon story

                                creature under bart dancing lucille green birthday understand becky age focus great words opened

                                #516
                                TracyTracy
                                Participant

                                  Becky scratched her head in confusion. She wondered if she’d ever catch up with all the new characters and story lines in the Reality Play. Who the fuck was Joe? Yeah, he was cute, but who was he?

                                  Becky sneezed again and shivered. Her cold was making her feel strangely disconnected and floaty. Nothing made much sense anymore, but it didn’t really seem to matter.

                                  #1955

                                  In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                                  F LoveF Love
                                  Participant

                                    mother perfect create, let mind self care, real beginning inside, focused, great, easily …

                                    nice trip! getting story, already morning tell night making, finn managed against loved ago family focuses.

                                    eyes far, surprise yourself! connected, crying, quiet.

                                    dear Armelle, whatever experience smiled, gift noticed.

                                    #1314

                                    In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

                                    ÉricÉric
                                    Keymaster

                                      December 3 rd

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                      #497

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                      #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.

                                      #453
                                      F LoveF Love
                                      Participant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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