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  • #92
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      :face-glasses: :paperclip: In the timeline tab [for legacy] I’ve added at the bottom a link towards the slightly styled version of the full list of registered events if you want to have them all before your eyes.
      I plan on adding some of the last ones, to help keep track… well, sort of :yahoo_hypnotized:

      #2138

      In reply to: Story Timeline and Map

      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        [For legacy] A more complete view of the current set of data here

        I will reintegrate into the main layout (done), and complete the dataset, but I post it here so that you can play a bit with the various filters and maps…
        In the meantime, should you have any suggestion on the events to add, or locations to adjust, feel free to tell me…

        #1695

        In reply to: Synchronicity

        TracyTracy
        Participant

          And I’d like to bring your attention to the mouse in Sanso’s dream, and the mouse in Eric’s comment, AND, last but not least, I’d like to remind everyone that I made the 1111th comment today.

          :yahoo_rofl: and let me just add, had I not posted lots of silly one-iconers on a whimsical impulse last night, I wouldn’t have got the 1111th post today….. :yahoo_winking:

          #1694

          In reply to: Synchronicity

          Jib
          Participant

            I wanted to bring to your attention that the French green clay (in the last comment of the Snoot ) is also called Illite :D

            #2113

            In reply to: Snooteries

            The SnootThe Snoot
            Participant

              Dear Anne Horny Smooch

              The Snoot is FLOVE as thou all :heart:
              The Snoot dreamt of its Back that was on its Frontside… It was moving freely and though in the usualness of the waking reality consciousness is commanded so to speak to rearrange itself into things… that are no more than the expression of different aspects of thyself.
              Since the attention is not so absolutely focused in the Snoot area of consciousness the energy of FLOVE is flowing freely and it is not constricted.
              Thus thou canst absorb the red fruit knowledge and know. Know that you are back and front at the same time and appreciate thyself inside out or outside in as is thy creature cat when she lick herself.

              With Mych FLOVE and sn :bounce: :bounce: tches

              The Cutie Snootie

              #2111

              In reply to: Snooteries

              The SnootThe Snoot
              Participant

                The Last Member Brownie, I like your friend Elias, as he’s aware of his cleaning and sleeping aspects.
                The Snoot does not need to hold tensions as he does not need to hold crottes and let go of them in great lovingness and appreciation of you all.
                Next time you try to make tea with mushroom, don’t forget to wash your hands… lest your dogs have some in their bed too when you practice your cleaning aspect…

                The Sleepy Sn :yahoo_yawn: :yahoo_sleepy: t

                #2110

                In reply to: Snooteries

                The SnootThe Snoot
                Participant

                  Dear Ann Honey Moon,

                  I also had almost diarrhoea yesterday… I ate too much red fruits.
                  It is also connected so to speak to our cleaning aspects, we merely again ex-spell what mesh-room we don’t need in the manner that we also want the free flow to let go of our tensions in our neck and back. :-?
                  We all have a cleaning aspect… sometime it may be cleaned too… well.

                  The Cutie Snootie (mwooosh)

                  #1693

                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                  F LoveF Love
                  Participant

                    Here is the Llama and the Goat across the road

                    and the Storybook Circus tent:

                    #704
                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Well, now there’s an idea, Elvira said, closing the book she’d been reading. Hhmmm….

                      Boris, how about a trip back home to see the folks?

                      Boris looked up in astonishment. Home? see the folks? What for? Elvira had said right from the start, Don’t ever expect me to go to Siberia! And Boris had never pushed the matter; after all, he was in no hurry to return there either. In the 3 years they’d been together, the subject had never come up.

                      Listen to this, Boris. Elvira picked up the book and started reading.

                      “….in May, Kerouac had written to Timothy Leary requesting some ‘SM’ or Siberian mushrooms, after Ginsberg told him that they would enable Jack to complete a chapter each day…”

                      Boris, we can make a fortune! We can stay with your folks. Mushroom season starts soon, we’ll stay for the season, dry them or whatever you have to do, pack them into dolls or something, and have them shipped back here.

                      Well I don’t know, Elvira….I like it here.

                      Oh pooh, Boris, we’ve been in London for almost a year, and I’m bored. It’ll only be for a few months, and then think of all that money! How many of our friends have writers block? All of them! The market is there, Boris! We’ll have writers beating a path to our door for SM’s…..

                      #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…

                      #699
                      Jib
                      Participant

                        Georges and Salome’s journal

                        From Georges’ account of his first encounter with Shu Lom Agamon. Part III

                        We were now at the center of the structure formed by these twelve gates.

                        The energy currents of the different families involved in this exchange were almost palpable. I could allow my attention in whatever direction I wanted, and I was aware of different essences of the nine families of our dimension of origin. Salome was here with me, but not as objectively involved as I was, yet. She was supportive of this even as were the other essences. And I could feel other family structures involved in other dimensions. We were at the center of a multidimensional portal between all the dimensions, and I was focusing my main attention to the twelve gates of Alienor. I was aware of our different threads of attention in this area of consciousness, the one in which I was drawing to myself informations about the Alienor dimension, and the one in which Shu-Lom was drawing informations about our own dimension.

                        I was perceiving the gates in a certain order that was relevant in one particular exploration. The structure was directly springing from myself and I could feel that the structure that would be perceived by Shu-Lom would be quite different and individualized. The structure I was aware of in a particular dream was facilitating of certain informations, and even though there was a particular arrangement of the families in the Alienor dimension, between the dreams, and depending on where my attention was focused, the gates were reorganizing themselves.

                        Most of the time, I had the Almadar energy “behind” me, and the Meshran vibration before me. It was connected to my particular intent in the exploration of that dimension as a focus, and as essence.

                        Shu-Lom was more aligned with the Taa’Maroo and the Ulemjel families, the Holders and the Keepers. He explained to me that it was connected also to him being one of what I could only translate as “Guardians”. Those Guardians were strongly connected to the Taa’Maroo intent…

                        [the rest of the account is yet to be decrypted]

                        #697
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          Unable to focus his attention on the now, Yann was amazed at his ability to create misunderstandings all around him.
                          People that were calling him, people that were emailing him… even himself with himself!
                          Trying to work, he was always clicking on the “wrong” mail, the “wrong” application, the “wrong” icon… wrong wrong wrong… he was laughing inwardly, thinking about what their friend Abby had told them yesterday about always thinking on the lack of or on the I can’t have it… well she was always doing this movement as if she was playing drums… and today at work, a friend of his came and told him it was an beautiful Monday, and she did this very same movement of playing the drum!!! he wasn’t aware that it was quite fitting the day coming.

                          Though he could still focus on what was accomplishments in this day full of seeming obstacles. He really appreciated having lunch with Yurick, and laughing, talking of dolphins and stuffs ;)) well they were planning and doing many things now that they were living together.

                          Inspiration was here again, and the motivation too.

                          He had a dream last night about something that seemed quite important, something connected to him intimately. Almadar :yahoo_idea: what was the name about?

                          When telling Yurick, it appeared that he had no impression about it, nonetheless he seemed quite interested, and it was also a synch as Yurick was also in the dream. Yann was asking him about modifying a pattern, energetic pattern to help a girl… :yahoo_thinking:

                          Who was she? She seemed familiar.

                          #693

                          He was climbing the steep path to the spring. His attention moving swiftly from one location to another, generating his human flesh body consciousness at each moment. At times he was not generating such a continuous movement and could appear in another place without having physically generated the objective appearance of the movement.

                          He had no name, he had no necessity for it himself. One of his other focuses was aware of him as John, the Straw Man. That would be the intersection of their focuses. He smiled back at him as he was aware of their connection in that moment. Continuing his exploration of the surrounding, before generating the physical spring, he was also communicating with other focuses or other aspects of consciousness. He was also exploring the shift of attention in different mergences with different qualities of essences. Being dispersed he was part of these other essences also, though it is a rough translation of it.

                          The movement of the path under his feet was smooth. The quality incorporated in the ground was facilitating his progression to the spring. It was not yet in his main focuses of attention, though it was close, some of his alternate aspects were already there and enjoying the premises and the non physical aspects of its reality. He added some mushrooms aspects in his surrounding as they were conveyed by his John aspect… they were connected to another of his friend. Oh! and a few ostrich eggs suddenly appeared ;))

                          Yellorange green current of a snoot was swirling around some trees. The John aspect of himself was amazed at the beauty he was generating, and as he was felling Pashi moving her attention toward him in a softurplime mergence, this new aspect of consciousness manifested the spring. The ears of this focus were experiencing the different layers of its movement.

                          #1888
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            “He ran down the heart of the old midway, where the weight guessers, fortune tellers, and dancing gypsies had once worked.
                            He lowered his chin and held his arms out like a glider, and every few steps he would jump, the way children do, hoping running will turn to flying. It might have seemed ridiculous to anyone watching,This white-haired maintenance worker, all alone, making like an airplane.
                            But the running boy is inside every man, no matter how old he gets.”

                            —Mitch Albom
                            from the book “The Five People You Meet in Heaven”

                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~

                            “I wish that you could see me when I’m flying in my dreams.
                            The way I laugh there way-up high. The way I look, when I fly.”

                            —Patti Griffin
                            “Chief”

                            #692
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              It was a perfect year for mushrooms in the mossy green fields of the Upper Ubzich regions, and gaily coloured clumps of them glistened in the morning dew. The weak sun felt deliciously warm to Zhanochka, after the interminable months of frost and ice. She pushed her sleeves up past her elbows, exposing the milk white flesh that she (or anyone else for that matter) rarely saw, clutched her grimy skirts up above the oozing mud, and ran across the field for no reason at all, other than it felt good to run.

                              Zhanochka kept running. And running……something strange happened to Zhanochka that day, the day she ran and ran…..

                              It was, in retrospect, as if she had run from one world, into another one, a completely different world, and she was glad.

                              #689
                              ÉricÉric
                              Keymaster

                                These are MY eggs! Nobody touches my eggs!
                                Oh come on, you’re not gonna make these ostrich eggs hatch Cathy… Better have them made into a nice big omelet for our guests… Fleur said with a tentative smile.
                                And why use MY eggs for that?! Moooom, she’s trying to steal my eggs…

                                What’s with all that fuss here? a coarse, yet sensual female voice said in the background of the kitchen.
                                Mom, she wants to make an omelet with the eggs that granddad gave me…
                                Calm down Catherine, will you… Is that true Fleur?
                                Err… Madam Wrick, I suppose it was only a stupid joke… Thing is that wasn’t such a bad idea… There will be quite a few guests tonight, and… she began to falter as the eyebrows of Dorean Wrick were taking a more severe look. Err… I’m sorry, M’am, I’ll send Raster fetch some food for a nice meat pie, will it be nice?
                                Perfect. That settles the matter then… Catherine, go back to your room, and let Fleur work. I’ll send you a maid to help you be prepared for our guests arrival.
                                Yes, Mum.

                                What a silly idea Theobald, her father have had, to give her step-daughter those eggs for her birthday… Big funny green eggs. He’d said they were ostrich eggs, but there were no ostrich in Mexico, as far as she knew. Of course, now the little girl’s only idea was to have the birds hatch and to mount them and ride in the slopes of Ireland.
                                This family was definitely insane, Dorean was thinking.
                                At least, she had thought her own branch of the family tree had been spared by the folly of her relatives and their attraction for occult and intangible things, but with that odd gift, it seemed to her more than likely that her father had followed the steps of his wricked brother… Or perhaps it was only an old man’s way of passing time. But knowing her father down-to-earth nature, that was not like him. He didn’t do things out of a whim, and there was probably more than met the eye having to do with the funny eggs…

                                A few days ago, shortly after New Year’s eve and stepping into year 2034, she’d had received an unexpected parcel from her cousin, Sean Doran. A couple of wrapped books, he was asking her to keep in store for him. She always had liked her cousin, though they had only met two or three times when they were children. Thing was, family matters were more a wrickage than anything else, and they had barely kept in touch over the years.
                                She had distractedly opened the big ornate leather-bound books only to discover they were blank. What was the purpose of all of this, she didn’t know. But unlike most people, Dorean wasn’t interested in others’ businesses. She would keep the books, whatever they meant.

                                And she had more pressing matters now.
                                Her guest were coming. Elvira and her demented husband were moving back, and were due to arrive tonight after a rather long expatriation in the lands of Russia. Having met that strange and impressive individual, the perspective of getting away in a foreign land leaving all the past behind, all of this had most probably saved Elvira from her depressive mood…
                                But she had been so isolated from her past that Dorean suspected that these almost thirty years abroad would have changed her profoundly.

                                #687

                                Kay wasn’t sure about what happened after that.
                                Akita was laughing, a slow and deep laugh. His face was changing oddly as his energy was generating different speeds and movements.
                                And Anita was laughing too and speaking about a big pink pig, melting around Akita.
                                That’s when Kay began feeling the difference in energy. The 4 other essences were observing with a strong interest what was hapenning to the man, and other essences were arriving… so many of their attentions here, the place was quite crowded and Kay was beginning to feel overwhelmed. All the surrounding area was oscillating dangerously.
                                It was like a hole in the veils between the dimensions, and it was frightening Kay.

                                Kay took his decision quickly. He jumped. Bit Akita’s leg.

                                The sharp pain was apparently enough to stop whatever was happening.
                                Akita was shouting, swearing with rage, and that was familiar and reassuring to Kay.
                                Whatever it was, Kay would not let it happen again, and the spiders were not involved. Nothing to do with their energy.

                                #686
                                Jib
                                Participant

                                  Its energy was different, new aspects were present now, and they were opposing in a way to the ones the snoot had noticed before.
                                  The snoot was puzzled and amused, it could remember a time when it was familiar with similar aspects… were they coming to the forefront again?
                                  It hadn’t felt them though. It was so sudden, but the snoot was curious about itself and it was amazingly blazing in its perception.
                                  The snoot added some colorful vibration in the surrounding environment, it felt its vibrational quality merging with the one of its forest self and its earthly being and it moved its attention to the most protective aspect. It was buzzing its interest to it and telling it how wonderful it was. The quality was slowly shifting.
                                  And then a swirling and not so physical aspect began turning around this one. The snoot was surprised at the ease with which this one was moving, and the directions it was opening to the protective one. The snoot was usually expressing quietness and a kind of slowness of time, though it was feeling the acceleration and it was feeling its own quality change.
                                  The change was quite funny as the snoot was beginning to narrow its focuses.
                                  It chose the mergence.

                                  #685

                                  Dory was bored. She didn’t really know whether to be Dory, or Becky, or even Illi today. Maybe I will be someone new, she thought. Hmmm……

                                  Elvira, how about that. Well, Elvira was just as bored as Elvira as she would have been as Dory, Becky or anyone else for that matter. What happens when the inspiration goes? Where does it go? One minute the world is full of interesting things, and then Poof! nothing is very interesting at all……

                                  Elvira had lots of interesting things to do, she had many books, and various artistic projects half started or not even started, just thought about on and off for ages, and she had puppies to play with, and a big drawer full of pens and things to draw with. She had a camera that took little videos that was often a lot of fun…but nothing seemed worth the trouble today, nothing at all…..not even that silly wacom thing, and after all that fuss to buy it, too…it was more fun talking about buying it then the darn thing ever was afterwards…..

                                  The Internet, how could anyone be bored with an internet! There must be something seriously wrong with her to be bored when she had Internet! But she halfheartedly googled this, googled that…ho hum, tedium, nothing very interesting there….

                                  Well, what about your imagination then! Elvira sat up a bit straighter, challenging herself. You can surely do something interesting in your imagination, can’t you?

                                  She slumped back down again, and sighed. Like what? Well, imagine you are out in the sun, going for a walk…..

                                  Well ok, then, I am on the beach. At first I feel the sun on the top of my head and I squint at the bright sparkles on the sea. Then, my ears are ringing with cold, it’s a windy cold day after all and not much fun on the beach at all. Oh pull yourself together, woman! Pull your scarf round your ears! It’s a great day for driftwood, just look at those waves rolling in.

                                  I am trudging along, and the sand is hard to walk on and makes my legs ache. My God, I am out of shape! There are soggy oranges and piles of bamboo sticks, and plastic bottles all washed up in curving heaps. A soggy Marlboro carton; my, are they still smuggling fags from Gibraltar, I am so out of the smuggling loop these days….

                                  Well, was that it? Elvira chastised herself. Not much of a flight of imagination there, was it? Maybe a walk along the river instead…..

                                  Oh alright, if I have to…..actually I can’t be bothered to do this imaginary walk either, it’s no use….nothing is really very interesting today. I would like someone to amuse me, charmingly, pointlessly, something funny and light, and delightfully meaningless and simple…..

                                  And god forbid, nothing to do with beliefs, please! Or any of that weird stuff, like other lives and other dimensions, and talking to aliens and all that weirdo stuff….weirdo, weirdo, stuff! UGGHHH Elvira shuddered.

                                  Well, one thing I am pleased about, she mused almost happily, I can smoke again now my lungs are behaving. I thought I would be gloriously happy forever if I could only breathe without fear, and already I am Ho Hum about breathing….thought for sure I’d remember to focus on every brilliantly wonderful NOW moment, I did, after that fright with the lungs, but no….back to normal, well, worse than normal really, because now I am not even interested in anything……

                                  I wonder if I should start drinking again…..Oh don’t be silly, Elvira told herself rather sharply. Well, drugs then, maybe that would buck me up. It’d buck you up alright, but for how long? Well when they wore off, I could take some more.

                                  Yeah, right…..

                                  Elvira sighed again. Even Bertie Wooster hadn’t even managed to raise a smile this time, and he always used to make her smile. Reading Wodehouse now made her frown, wondering what ever she had used to find so amusing……

                                  The birds are making a racket out there, she noticed. Whatever do they find to sing about all day? Chirp chirp…jeeze….. maybe I should take up golf, she wondered. Dan seems to always have an interest, something passionately all-consuming……he never has enough hours in the day for all HIS interesting things….

                                  Where have all my interesting things GONE?

                                  #1677

                                  In reply to: Synchronicity

                                  TracyTracy
                                  Participant

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

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