Search Results for 'tone'

Mavis had not yet received any news from her friends Sharon and Gloria. She’d hoped she could have some postcard from them before she goes and join them…

Nearly two months… Two months since they had all received the exciting email from that Dr. Bronklehampton and had decided to take a leap of faith.
As a matter of fact, they had taken that leap of faith just before, and it was just a… “synchronistic confirmation that they were heading in the right direction”, that’s what old Harry had said… Or was it Joe? No, that was surely Harry.
Fred wasn’t very pleased.

Bored by all the variations of dominoes and dices games at their third-age club, the three inseparable ladies had decided, in a bout of delightful unreasonableness, to embrace all that modern technology had to offer. Sharon and Gloria, being the devil-may-care as they were, got their computer first. Mavis had to convince Fred that he could make his horse-racing bets with that computer without having to go to the city, now that the last pub in the village wasn’t taking bets any longer… and even play poker! she’d said, bluffing so vehemently that she’d almost blushed in shame for fear of being wrong. But that last argument had convinced old Fred. And now, she was connected too. A second-hand computer, with a dusty old keyboard, but she’d let it soak a night in a soapy basin, and it was now shiny as a brand-new one. Except that it now kept behaving strangely…

In their club, they could boast that now they were connected all over the word, and all the old parakeets of the club had almost choked over their tea when they had heard all of what they had discovered.
Sharon had won most of the glaring bedazzlement. Wearing newly bought sunglasses, she’d said whispering like a conspirator that she had searched her name on a website and she had seen more than 7 million pages talking of her! Imagine! More than seven million people talking of her! And she had not known she was so famous… Hence the sunglasses, she’d added with a wink… there were probably a slew of paparazzi hidden somewhere to discover all that was to know about her… But you can’t fool dear ol’ Sharon Stone.
Gloria Fowles had been gathering almost 4,000 pages… But well, she had not the charismatic aura of Shah.
And Mavis Staples had got a hefty 470,000 pages!… Of course, she had not told Fred, who was already so paranoid about all of this stuff. When they had received the machine, he was convinced there were miniature cameras and transponders from the MI6 inside the PC and had spent hours disassembling and reassembling it.

Very soon after they had registered for their free email address (the reseller had explained patiently that she couldn’t electrocute herself while licking the envelop), the next day to be precise, at 5:33 —that was the hour when Mavis had finished her routine dusting and breakfast preparing for Fred, and just before taking Gulp, the dog for a news reading (that was what Sha was saying “butt sniffing for dogs, is like news reading for us”), she had granted herself a little peek into the emailbox— she had seen something in the recipe folder.
She wasn’t sure why they had called that folder “meat” or “ham”… no that wasn’t “ham”… “SPAM” more like it… Anyway, in the recipes folder, she’d received her first email. She’d called eagerly Sha and Glo, and they had received it too, and had even answered it already, as they had spent the all night “surfing” as they said — which was a bit difficult for Sharon with her sunglasses in the dark.

All three of them had received a free coupon for a massage and therapeutic rejuvenating treatments (and possibly some bonus organ enlargements free of charge) in Tikfijikoo Island!

Well, now Mavis was ready to go too, now that Fred had been mollified and she’d gathered the money for the trip.
In a sense, that was good she’d not received anything yet from Sha and Glo, it would allow her to imagine the wildest things!

She made her way downstairs to the kitchen, and the headlines in the Reality Times newspaper on the table caught her eye:

‘Mysterious Carved Rock Faces Appear in Yorkshire Villages.’

SYNC! Todays random quote, and I just this minute mentioned to Jan how things keep appearing IN the book before we hear about them OUTSIDE of the book, and I mentioned the Yorkshire stonecarver. We had been discussing previously the ELIZABETH sync. Some of Franci’s descriptions of Elizabeth fit exactly Jan’s impressions of Elizabeth in the movie she just watched.

The botanist, the woman in mans clothes, and the island all cropped up OUTSIDE the book yesterday……

She had felt it.
When the old man had left his body behind, she had felt it.

Oorlaith had foreseen that he would decide to leave this World, and thus was not affected too much. However, she was not sure that Leonard, who she had sent to the highs of Mount Elok’ram had had time to retrieve the cup of Margilonia.

Oorlaith had already collected the wand of Selvaniel, which Leonard had brought back to her, thanks to her indications, from the Forest bordering the Marshes. Now, she hoped he had time enough to get to the old Abbot.
Otherwise, it might be more delicate…
Much more delicate…

Hopefully, she had made contact with Roselyn, who had been settling in another part of Asgurdy, on one of the numerous rocky islands bordering the South-western coasts, where life was scarce and the soil barren, but where it was safe enough to do magic in this superstitious land, as not much people ventured to these places.
Her spiked dragon had helped her carve out her new residency and she was quite well installed now.
Before moving from the deserts of Asgurdy, she had managed to get the sunstone of Agnima.

Linda and Peregrine’s portrait had taken a little longer than expected to realize. Quite abruptly after India’s encounter with the old wrinkled mummy, Bill Jobsworth had fallen ill. An abrupt cold he said he’d caught, that had left him stuck in his bed for a few weeks.
He’d thought that after the stone heads and the mummy, that was good he didn’t believe in maledictions, because he would have been dead by now. India Louise had been taking care of him, to the surprise of the old Lord who, however, barely expressed more than a raised eyebrow at her incongruous request.

That little retardation was in fact the perfect pretext for the young couple of globe-trotters to settle down in the castle, and prepare a little photographic exposition on their last trip in Eastern Africa. Though in 2057, photographic cameras were by far outdated, Linda was very fond of these old contraptions that she could use to render some of their trips with a certain kind of focus.
She’d a custom set of specially adapted cameras that she’d enhanced with devices to free her of the burdens of storage mostly. However, they could function most like the ancient ones. Capturing light through a single lens, in a very focused time and space framework.

She was very proud of the pictures she had taken of the Dragon’s Blood Trees in Socotra Island and the natural lighting of the scene gave a surreal feeling to it as though an actual iridescent dragon had been hovering on clouds above them.
When she saw them, India Louise had been gaping, telling they looked exactly like what delirious Bill had depicted of his visions …
Linda was moved beyond words at how amazingly complex and delicately beautiful this reality was…

December 5 ^th, 2007

My dear friend Elias has whispered this to Yurick this morning, which he has apparently connected.

“Through your inner senses, you may connect with vibrational tones. Everything within your perception incorporates a vibrational tone. Your table incorporates a vibrational tone. Every molecule, every atom, every unit of consciousness incorporates a vibrational tone. Therefore, within your inner senses your ‘objective,’ so to speak, would be to be connecting with an individual scenario of connection of vibrational tones, of which there are more than you may count.” [Elias #79, March 17, 1996]

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.

All that farting had been quite exhausting, but the mummy felt that she was reincorporating vigor more quickly now, as the old fartesque energy was giving way.
This was a quicker process than birthing, but also more disturbing.

She slowly started to unwrap her bandages.
She smiled as she saw her peach smooth skin on her hands.

Malvina had clapped her hands and made the food and drinks and decorations disappear in the reception hall of the cave, feeling the time was not to big parties right now. The guest had moved again, and she had not been in the mood for party either.
She had not yet managed to reestablish contact with her sisters and that was a more pressing matter.

Leörmn had been retreating into his seasonal slumber, and would not be of great help at the moment, so she knew it was also time for her to get back to simple things and not worry about what was not yet here. Probabilities had simply moved, they would come back.

The silgreen tree had bloomed, and she wanted to brew some potions with its flowers. She would then go with Irtak to the village sell some vials of potion, and perhaps they would take the opportunity to see Huÿgens too, as he sometimes needed such potions for his langoats.

For Illi the cat, that cave filled with slimey scaly beasts was now out of her way.
Good riddance.

This dead Illi experience had been so intense she had almost believed there indeed was a pink indigo dragon right were she was at the entrance of the cave. But the impression had vanished all of a sudden, and she had found herself with her mind again her own only, without the echoing thoughts of that deranged other.
She had found a tree nearby, and comfortably seated on some high branches had been mediating with the help of trance inducing betel catkins that she carried with her as she traveled.

She had seen some weird stuff, like farting bandage wrapped people putting cobblestones to make a way to the sky, but that was enjoyable. As nothing really could make sense that night, she decided to go to sleep on her tree.

In the morning, a snorting sound made her raise her pointy ears. Just below her tree, a man was eating and singing, looking at some map, obviously planning some interesting adventure…

In the cave, where Vincentius was left with the Ugling boy and Mandrake, the latter finally decided to break the ice.

— How pitiful we left that sabulmantium to the snorting man… Mandrake said, we could have had a peek into Arona’s adventure… Not that I am concerned, she is so brave, but you know, she’ll always be my little… What am I saying? mumbled Mandrake temporarily confused.
— Oh, you mean, Arona had a sabulmantium?
— Mmm, well, of course… We projected hairy cows and stuff… (I’m really saying the stupidest things today, might be that herbal tea, shivered Mandrake, licking his paw and combing with it the unkempt hair on his head)
— Interesting… But you know if you want to have a look, we can do otherwise. Let me see…
— (trying to make yourself important, huh) thought Mandrake

Vincentius took a little blue bag tied to his belt, and threw a pinch of a smelly mossy powder on the smoldering embers.
A thick greenish smoke started to rise making Mandrake retreat carefully (or tactfully he would say) in his favourite place behind the pile of logs to look at the discomfiture of poor Vincentius without having to overwhelm him too much with his own superior sharp intuitive senses.
But to Mandrake’s surprise, the smoke steadied like a moving wall, and images started to foarm.

— Hey, this is my little girl, Arona! Mandrake couldn’t help but say.
— A-lo-na, the slow voice of Yikes/Zacquer said.