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  • #498
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    some writing by Twilight

    Jo fixed me up a swing. It hung from the old elm tree out the front. That’s my favourite place. I just sit there rocking and thinking, and thinking and rocking. Sometimes I would weave stories or sometimes I would dream about when I am real famous. I know I will miss Jo and Elroy, but then I cheer myself up thinking how, when I am rich, I will visit them and give them money and presents and how fine that will be.

    Elroy and Jo don’t know about my stories or how I love to write. I ain’t much good. I didn’t get much schooling but Elroy helped me some and then I would try and teach myself the rest. The only book we have is a big old bible. That is written in real fine words. The part I like the best is a song that Solomon wrote. I don’t know how the tune went but the words are real nice. It is real romantic too. I dream one day some man will use words like that to me. Not like those drunken slobs round these parts. Anyway, that’s how I know I am not much good, because I can’t write nothing like Solomon. But I try anyway.

    Yesterday I was sitting out on the swing rocking and thinking and young Dan from the ranch over the way turned up on his horse. He looked real hot and red and sweaty. Mostly though, he is real fine looking, and I confess I have a soft spot for him. So I leapt off the swing real quick and straightened myself up and bit my lips to make them all big and red. I wanted him to see I had developed some in the last little while.

    Where’s your brothers, Twi? he said to me.

    I felt he didn’t seem to be giving me the appreciation I hoped for, so I did a little flick of my head and gave him the look I had been practising. I had seen the other girls do this look to the men at the saloon, and it seemed to work a treat. I gestured at the same time, real slow and casual, and I said “Out the back, Dan.” in a honey voice.

    He started to ride off, like he was in a hurry. But then he stopped. My heart did a little flutter. He said to me, “You know Twi, the boys at the ranch were talking about you. And it wasn’t the sort of talk should be said about a lady”.

    When Dan said that, I felt he had kicked me in the guts. I wanted to gasp. But I am plenty used to putting up with things and not showing my true feelings, so I just looked at him real cold. Then I spat. I have been practising my spitting and I can do it real good now. Nearly as good as Jo.

    “I am just telling you Twi he said. I thought he would say more, but he seemed to reflect for a moment, then shook his head and off he went in a hurry to find the boys.

    Elroy and Jo looked real bothered when I saw them later. I knew when to hold my tongue so I did not give them no smart talk, and I cooked up a real fine bean dish for their supper. It was real quiet over the table that night. Truth was, I still felt mighty bad over what Dan had said.

    I confess I felt some cares and sadness on me that evening when I went to bed, and found I could not sleep. I got out my diary and thought I would do some writing.
    I tried to write what my name, Twilight, means to me. My real name is Tina Willemine Ivy El Disperso. I always been called Twi. Then Hank at the saloon, he says one night, “I am calling you Twilight and that sort of caught on. It made me feel special, having my own stage name.

    I started writing. Lavender blue sky bleeding into the dark. I thought that sounded quite a good start to my writing, so feeling a bit encouraged I went on some more: Twilight is a magic time. It is the time I see things that aint there, but maybe they could be. My eyes play tricks on me in the half light and I feel like I could be anyone. I feel like I could be someone who I isn’t. Twilight is the time of promises. The promise and mystery of the night to come. It is inbetween time when you know the ordinary stuff could be magic.

    I stopped. I weren’t never going to be able to write like Solomon. I knew that and I felt real bad. At least I could dance though, and that was going to make me famous. But that thought could not cheer me up this night and I confess I cried myself to sleep like a baby.

    #1575

    In reply to: Synchronicity

    FloveFlove
    Participant

    A Deep Purple synch with Eric’s Roger Glover, lovey dovey joyous song because Deep Purple may have been in my dream Armelle – meditations, dreams, synchs, thoughts # 2”. (Rod EVans being the name of the person who handcrafted the wand and a member of Deep Purple for a while, of course I don’t know that the Rod Evans in my dream was THE Rod Evans, actually I only knew that about DP because I googled the name, oh Paris is on the news as I write this, is that a synch? Also where is Rod Evans now? nobody knows. Maybe he is going incognito as that mystery stone carver bloke. And then of course there is the purple thing with Jib :yahoo_devil: purple, not devil).

    Hmmm well that is a weirdo synch, :yahoo_feeling_beat_up: but no stranger than some of them.:yahoo_oh_go_on:

    oh this is a truly rubbish synch :yahoo_blushing: the things I say to entertain you guys.:yahoo_chatterbox:

    And a rose for the maligned Rod Evans :yahoo_rose: wherever he may be hiding out now.

    :yahoo_peace_sign:

    Did Tracy notice her orange synch was comment 57?:yahoo_clown:

    I think you can overdo the icons.

    #1385
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    :yahoo_star: :yahoo_star: :yahoo_star:When Tracy woke up it was the middle of the night and nobody was up. Alone in the Page Two Dimension again…..wondering what to write, but determined to make the 57th comment notwithstanding……:yahoo_peace_sign:

    #368
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Vinya Grey left the laboratory, and projected home to her pod. Her genetics experiments were coming along nicely.

    (Becky was wondering whether she really knew enough about the subject to write about it, and decided to do some more research before continuing her entry about the 23rd century)

    #324
    AvatarJib
    Participant

    Yann was wandering about in a pet shop, looking for nothing in particular.

    Quintin had said something about inserting the shift now… well, that sucked… Yann was in a very bad mood, feeling like everyone was against him, nothing was going as he wanted to, and most of all he had lost inspiration. No desire to draw, or to write anything. His life was not fitting. Or so it seemed.

    Looking closer to the bird cages, and the birds inside, he was amazed at their similarities and their differences. Their shapes and sizes, their colors was the obvious parts. Their shouting also, it was quite messy, and stridulent. But what he noticed most was their behavior, some were just living their own life, proud of themselves and quite fearful when Yann was getting closer to the cage, and others were just flocking together like they couldn’t live apart. Some were singing, some crying, some just quiet and moving nervously or randomly…

    He went to the parrots room, it was written babies on the cages… they were like full sized parrots to him, very big birds!!! very colorful and impressive. But looking closer, they were not so healthy, their feathers were sort of dull, and even bad shaped and like the parrot had been attacked savagely :yahoo_thinking:. Not very impressive eventually.

    A few days ago things had become quite erratic at his work… he had felt a strong desire to change, change everything. First he couldn’t understand that desire and he resisted strongly, but soon he created some uncomfortable manifestations. Breathing difficulties, headaches, itching, and even boredom. He just felt the desire to tell bugger off to everyone.

    The birds were getting boring actually, he left the shop.

    Walking in the street among the crowd was kinda soothing his uneasiness… though at times he was like feeling what they were strongly projecting. There was that Muslim woman with her chador, and as she went right past him he had that twinge of anger against her, coming from nowhere, and as soon as he noticed that, he just moved his attention to his energy and it was over, no more anger or polarization. Was it his own feelings or was it from that young woman?

    Whatever, he just enter another shop, home shop, with little thingies and furniture… all these statues, the ones looking like 1920’s ladies were the most appealing… and there were these fairies also, wasn’t it Fiona who had told him about a dream where she was the fairy princess?
    :yahoo_daydreaming:

    :yahoo_alien:
    Oh! that pic… the man had a blue skin… with dolphins on his face creating shadows… the pic was a blend of sort, very funny, and the man was cute :yahoo_whistling: as was the shop assistant…

    Time to leave… he went off the shop and continued walking. Bright sun, fresh air, all was clearing. His mood also. He thought again about what he and Quintin had been planning. It seemed something crazy, but it also seemed related to what was happening in his life. Since Vienna, their relation had become closer and closer, and for the most part it was very endearing, very fun and also very intense. All these energies, all this creativity, it had to be part of a bigger picture.

    :yahoo_oh_go_on:

    Thinking about that, his friend Dory had told him about a bigger picture once, and he was teasing her about that… but now it was making sense. His abilities to remember his dreams had increased in a way, though most of the time he did not remember his dream in the morning. He’d noticed he could if he was just relaxing a bit and let his attention go back to that dream self of his… At times he had also some weird experiences about parallel realities and shift of perception, like the room is translucent and he can move through it in another dimension, very freaky that one :yahoo_not_listening:

    #317
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    Ibn al’ Gruk was weary.
    That lone grake he had seen flying over the desert settlement this morning had baffled him.
    Usually, such creatures where not migrating at this season, and this one was lone too, which was all the more baffling.

    The old gripshawk had seen many things in his life, but this was surely a presage of importance. In the myths of his people, the big colourful birds were once thriving in the desert oasis, where they were thought to have appeared in the Old Times. But having been extensively hunted down as food for the gripshawk tribes, they had moved away, and the balance had been broken.
    It had prompted lots of the tribes to move apart, in search of food and exchanges, and few of them were now still living in the deserts as they did in the old ways. Many of them, for many generations now, had been creating cities on the coast, and the most flourishing one was Chafik’ An, where a traveling portal had been erected by the humans from Lan’Ork to facilitate exchanges and trades.

    All of that, despite his old age (that his long mop of white angora hair under his chin could account for), Ibn al’ Gruk had only heard all of this through the lineage of his ancestors, but he had seen some of the conflicts that had been created, and he understood that change again was in the air.

    He felt like he could weave a new tale to entertain the settlement tonight, and perhaps give them inkling as to the new changes to come.
    For he felt changes were coming, and that they had been in motion already.

    ***

    The night was clear, and lots of people had gathered around the big bonfire. They all loved these regular meetings where everyone would meet and share food, drinks and over all, gaiety.

    He started to drum low deep sounds and cleared his throat.
    A fit of cough got him by surprise, but it was just a hairball that he spat in the fire, which set ablaze immediately, providing some dramatic effect that hushed everyone down.

    “In a mysterious land far far away,” started Ibn al’ Gruk, with a growling voice…

    ***

    Egypt, 2657 B.C.

    Lekshen had dreamt of Set that night. The god had appeared to him in one of his familiar forms, that of a long snouted animal .
    Lekhsen was wondering why the god had requested such a task for him to do, but he was certainly in the perfect position to accomplish such a task.
    Like Set, Lekhsen came from Upper Egypt, the arid land, and he had managed to get a high-ranking responsibility in fertile Lower Egypt as a scribe thanks to the unification efforts of Pharaoh.

    But Pharaoh’s daughter had just died… right after her 10 year old brother, and Pharaoh’s himself felt He would not live much longer.
    Which would mean that the closest male in the family would be likely to get on the throne of Egypt. And that would be bad news for people like him, as the brothers and brothers-in-law of Pharaoh did not appreciate much His policy.

    In the dream, the strange creature had asked him to hide something with the mummy of Pharaoh’s daughter. It had told him people would forget about how Set was fighting for Ra, the Sun, each night that the bark was traveling on the dangerous underworld waters. They would forget, and would demonise him and his people, and he, Lekhsen would have to write the story, and bury it with the Princess. His status would allow him to do it unscathed.

    “Would people ever remember they once were One?” had asked Lekshen to the god.
    “Only you can tell” had the creature answered.

    #292
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Becky, if the truth be told, was astonished at the lack of logical comprehension of the other script writers on her additions to the reality play. And not only that, they seem to have missed completely the Key Point of her recent addition to the unfolding saga. She sighed.

    She’d thought Tina might have cottoned on to it, she was always banging on about keys, and sand, but no, she was too obsessed with her ‘alien invasion’ to even notice. And what was ‘reverting back to her own true self’ all about? How ‘real’ was that? In all of Reality Becky had never known an ‘absolute true self’… Reality According To Becky was like… well, like sand….shifting, moving, changing, ever forming and reforming… why, a single grain of sand could even be in more than one place at the same time, shifting and forming and changing in many realities all at once…

    Becky sighed again. Whoever in all of reality would want to contain all the grains of reality sand inside the confines of one measly sandbox?

    #1473
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    :notepad: Seems there is an issue when you take too long to write a comment, the system thinks you are not signed in any longer.
    Will see what I can do.

    In the meantime, if that happens, just copy your comment from the comment box, and then reload the page, and paste/post it back… Sorry for any inconvenience…

    [EDIT] I’ve changed something in the configuration of the cookies, perhaps that’ll help. Might be a good thing to clear your cookies in your browser too, just in case…

    #275
    FloveFlove
    Participant

    Oh well bugger it, said Arona, I have had enough of this. Perhaps we had better just play it by ear if no one really knows how this thing works.

    Which is really, although not in so many words, if I may be so rude as to remind you, what I was suggesting, said the charming Sanso, rather rudely.

    Well yes, that is true … but whatever, let’s not argue, shall we just get going? Are you ready Mandrake? All of a sudden Arona was feeling unaccustomably energised and assertive, and was totally fed up with herself for wasting time so much time sitting around. This was causing her to be a bit sharp with the others.

    You know my problem? she asked, rhetorically, although of course Mandrake felt compelled to offer a reply.

    Hmmmm and which one would that be?

    Ahahahah Mandrake, laughed Arona, well the one I was thinking of was that I think too much. I need to be more like our friend Sanso here. I mean, what does it matter where we end up, it is all a big adventure anyway.

    Well I for one, would prefer to end up somewhere in the vicinity of food, responded Mandrake.

    Sanso wasn’t really listening but was gazing at the sabulmantium with a look of awe and muttering to himself. This really is a remarkable find. I have never actually used a sabulmantium before but I gather that one uses it as a tool to focus their intention, which is a crucial component of the magical creative process. Tremendously powerful tool and when used with awareness by the pure of heart it has great potential.

    Oh great! shall we just get going then, said Arona picking up the Sabulmantium, and next thing you know, after a little bit more wandering down a few more tunnels, which isn’t really that interesting to write about, our three intrepid adventurers found themselves gazing in astonished delight at a most wonderous sight.

    #1308

    In reply to: Yuki’s Livrary

    EricEric
    Keymaster

    September 24 th

    Quintin remembered a snapshot of the notes that Dory had taken during her first trip to the Madagascan caves, a year ago.

    Relevant extracts:

    At one moment, I saw some hooded figure in the sideways tunnels… He vanished on the left, couldn’t follow him…
    […] HE KNEW HIS WAY INSIDE !
    When he vanished, I had the vision of something, […] like the layout of a labyrinth, of cave tunnels — that are all underground and the many entrances are all over the world… PORTALS
    focus opening/doors ; time/space…
    The central cavernous part is some kind of key center, where anyone can meet…

    This has inspired Quintin to write some notes too.
    He has the vision of these portals organized as clusters, like a tree, with branches and leaves… I will send him a more detailed image, but that may take him some time to digest!

    September 26 th

    The latest additions to the story have inspired Quintin. He had some inkling of how “essence” (or what is somewhat referred as “oversoul” ) and all the “focus” of essence (or lifetimes) interplay, and are not as separate as they sometimes seem to be.

    Here would be what we will say to him, if he wants to listen:

    « Now, terminology can become tricky as, for much time, you have been accustomed to be considering of your experience as the projection of that of an “essence”, somewhat separate from you, the lowly focus.
    Of course, you pretend the contrary, and become quite nifty in brandishing sentences like “I am essence, and I create all of my reality”, which you are and do actually, but that you do not always believe and trust.
    These terms of “essence” and “focus” were given to you as means for you to better understand the interplay of consciousness. In the beginning of the acquaintance with these new terminologies, you have felt them remotely blurry and unrelated to previous concepts, which was the intention. But now, you once again objectify your understanding in something too rigid at times, and that little story is giving you a hint of what your real power is.
    And you begin to really experience it, and really pay attention.

    « As was expressed many times, “essence” is no thing. It is an action.
    The “essence” is each of you, that very portion of you that you feel when you slide your attention into the comment box.
    In that, your purpose, you see, is only to experience, nothing more, nothing less.
    And then time, as you know it, becomes irrelevant, you see. Your natural time is expressed through you and your explorations.
    Notice how playfully, as essence (essence playing focus or focus playing essence), you let your natural time unfold, and at times find some strange weather pattern in your awareness that needs clarification. As essence, you playfully find the most perfect habits [shapes and clothings] to wrap around you, and continue your story.
    Just as your dreams at night overlap and blend into each other.
    Just as Rafaela created new focuses [Sam and Becky] to continue to play and make the story expand for all of the other focuses, Dory included.

    « That “I” of you is ever present, and is reflected perfectly in others’ perceptions, as you are drawing them to you purposefully. Do not brush aside their adjuncts, for they are also you, having moved your pawns forward, so to speak, through their moves.

    « Thus understand that the story is a continuous stream reflecting the essence that is you, and your travel through the various guises you borrow.
    In that manner, it does not matter how much sense it makes in linear terms. Because, in a way, it can’t make sense in these linear terms.

    « Let us explain this in other terms.
    When you found difficulties in understanding the “scheme” so to speak, the figure that is drawn by the participants, it is because you apply the linear understanding of what such a scheme should be.
    In that, you only perceive the “plot” as a succession of dots without a continuity, whereas the continuity is to be found in the other stories interwoven.
    You are accustomed to stories where a single individual is enacting throughout the play, in a linear continuous fashion. The individual goes through many different actions, but is always the same in your perception.
    Here, the tricky thing is to notice the continuity throughout the various habits [clothings] taken by the essence(s). It matters not that the essence takes that guise of say, a pirate sailing on high seas, just after having been an old crafty Lord in his windy castle. The underlying aspects of his exploration has been continuous and coherent: in this case, exploring and making sense of one’s exploration. It is just that a certain appearance has been perhaps more fitting to express certain aspects or qualities of essence, but the exploration has been one, throughout the entirety of the experience.

    « We will let you ponder this, and we will continue our own story, writing about you… »

    September 28 th

    This sand symbol that Quintin has brought up seemed to have come from many directions at once. Each character has connected it, in various ways.
    Armelle (Arona) to her magic, Rafaela (Becky) to her collecting customs, etc. etc.

    Let us say that this symbol is not as innocent as it may seem. There are lots of associations with sand.
    It is solid, yet fluid. In association with water, it can be used to build, and also to erode. It can shift into many forms, one of which is your glass, and your electronic components.
    And most of all, it is, after your very oxygen, the most abundant constituent of your reality.
    It is almost limitless in your understanding.
    As is your magic.

    This magical device we made Quintin see in a visualization is an analogy of your very action of creation as essences.
    The sand which molds itself to make forms and shapes in three dimensions is in fact likened to your consciousness. Each grain of sand represents your links of consciousness that bind together to do your command.
    The shapes are moved by your essences, in which you may see that the essence is no thing at all, but is a continuous stream of action, not separate from others’.

    As Quintin said to Fiona, some individuals do differently when they create and shape their sands.
    In analogy with the coloured sands, some people like Quintin enjoy using other people’s colours in shaping his own characters, while some others prefer to keep their own colours, to create a more definite sense of individuality. But they integrate the others’ movements and shapes nonetheless, regardless of how much they perceive it to be coming from them.

    With that said, let us see how much more will appear from that sandbox…

    September 30 th

    The Wrick family tree as it is now (or “will be” drawn around the time of the twins in 2057).

    The Secret Life of Margaret Wrick , a newspaper cut from 2033.

    October 7 th

    The dragon Naasir’s dream
    A panorama illustrating the portals between the worlds created by each of the participants… But who is dreaming, really?

    And an illustration of Chiara’s encounter with the glutton “dreggun” Buckberry

    #79
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    These are excerpts from Yuki’s diary, explaining some of the details of the experiment called — Malvina’s story —.

    Note: for the reader not familiar with all the names here is a quick reminder:

    • Araili > Yann, Írtak, Sam, Jacob …
    • Armelle > Fiona, Arona, Tina, Qixi …
    • Rafaela > Dory, Illi, Becky, Rodney …
    • Yuki > Quintin, Al, Janice …

    September 12 th, 2007

    Today, an experiment has been launched by Quintin. Time will tell if it will bear some fruit, but the idea sounds good.
    Having people join in a story telling, and see what happens, what are the “lessons” one can draw from this…

    Armelle, Rafaela and Araili are already on the starting-blocks, though Quintin is not quite aware yet.

    I can hear some thoughts: Let’s say for the moment that there are no rules. We will see what prompts the desire for having rules…

    September 13 th

    Some of the people familiar with Janice and her friends’ adventures have already joined in with much enthusiasm.
    This first comment seems very promising.

    Right now, it feels easy and fun.

    Quintin seems to think that everything is very straightforward.
    The magical world with the cave in one part, separated from the “real” world. (Two Worlds, and he thinks that will be enough to content Rafaela, ahaha, how presumptuous)
    The first he sees as a representation of what psychologists think of as “subconscious”, and the other being the conscious, physical part.

    But of course, he thinks he knows better than that. He calls the first one “subjective” rather than subconscious, because it’s a translation of subjects which unfold in many related objects in the “objective” or physical world.
    That’s a good point, though a bit distorted. It would be better to say Malvina’s World is a translation of the subjective, in the manner of a Heroic Dimension.
    But the thing is, that he missed the point in thinking one World is more “real” than the other.
    We’ll be having some fun soon…

    First remark… The second comment of the story has been interrupted abruptly in the middle of a sentence. That is interesting. We will urge Quintin to leave it as it is, despite his feeling of it being awkward.
    We will appeal to his imagination.
    It seems he has heard the suggestion.

    September 14 th

    For the most part, the story starts to get much involvement. Lots of energies are being projected into it, and with every adjunct, each participant’s perception stretches to accommodate the changes and smooth out the bumps in their own sense of continuity.

    But as I expected, some challenges seem to appear already.
    Is it raining or not in that world?
    The question seems simple, but it is very profound and Fiona seems to struggle a bit with it, as is Quintin. The question frame itself [“that World”] shows where the difficulty lies.

    He seems to avoid the discrepancy and pretend that he has not seen it. Mmmm, avoiding the obstacles… that will very soon come right back in front of you dear Quintin, for Dory is quite playful.
    At least Fiona has been challenging Dory for not paying attention… Armelle’s ineffable loving ruthlessness!
    How will it unfold?
    Rafaela seems to be delighting herself as though she’s preparing some mischief, but Dory struggles in the “back”…

    September 15 th

    Dory is indeed very playful and her imagination is unrestrained. I extend much appreciation to this focus of Rafaela, especially as Quintin has to stretch his imagination to make things “fit”.

    Quintin is still avoiding the issues that appear sporadically and prefers to stay focused on his own perception of the story… Careful Quintin :face-smile:

    Yann joins the fun —objectively, that is, for Araili has been present already since the very beginning.

    September 16 th

    Halcyons days…
    My dear friend Archie is answering some of Quintin and Yann’s questions.
    Something starts to dawn on Quintin. But his mind is on other matters.

    He understands that the energies of the writers are melding in writing the story, but he still tends to think that they blend completely.

    September 18 th

    Quintin has been drawing some of the characters of the story. It’s interesting.
    He had good insights, as Yann will tell him later that his clothes today were exactly the same as the colours he had drawn.

    Characters drawn:

    • Mavina, Leörmn the dragon and weaszchilla, Írtak, Huÿgens (and Fjutch), Arona and Illi (the gripshawk)
    • Malika, Quintin, Yann, Fiona and Dory

    Interestingly, Fiona resolves her issues in her cave.
    Dory too, but she did not need the cave to do this.

    September 21 st

    For Quintin, the story seems to lose all common sense, as some characters move from World to World. You could have expected that Quintin!
    And Dory pops in and out, in her mind, in her dream state, or in future timeline mixed with present or past one.
    Quintin will soon realize that he himself is doing this constantly, though he does not register it.

    But the worst thing for him is that there are bleedthroughs in between Worlds. The Reality Times newspaper was brilliant Rafaela, a perfect trigger for the beliefs that the Worlds are closed and impermeable to each other!

    Archie has been answering new questions about that story and this had been quite interesting for all of the participants.
    There is much for them to digest from the realization that each of them had been creating their own versions of the stories through their perceptions. And that they were each having their version of the story, drawing from each other’s input, like a conductor of an orchestra incorporating some instruments.

    Of course, some things still matter, and one of the point of the story is also to discover these.

    September 22 nd

    Quintin has been drawing new characters.

    Characters drawn:

    • Båd Al’Guz (Bådul), BelleDora, Buckberry the dragon, the twin dragon eggs, Archibald the parrot, Sanso the Wanderer
    • Illi Fergusson, another Illi that Quintin has tried to sneak in as a bait for Dory, with hints that she is disengaged (or “dead” in common vernacular) and merges with others of her focuses…
    • Jacqueline Bleomelen (Nanny Gibbon), Lord Wrick, his great grand children the twins Cuthbert and India Louise, Manfred, William P. Jobsworth the painter

    A new perception trick: Dory felt relieved upon seeing the moth feelers of BelleDora.
    She had at first thought they were whiskers, which was not Quintin’s intent…

    September 23 rd

    Quintin seems to have connected to a map drawn by Lord Wrick, when the old Lord has started to document his great grand children travels.

    Quintin had tried to put some annotations on this fragment, but he doesn’t yet completely understand that his perception of this World, though accurate, is only valid in this present moment, and may change at any time.

    Up to now, here are the names he could find:

    • North: the Icy Lands, and Dragon Cemeteries
    • Center: Goldfindely, homeland of Arona, connected to the Warring Kingdoms of Lan’ork by the Isthmus of Ghört’s Hammer. The Isthmus of the Dragon Head seems to lead to Malvina’s cave and hideout. Mount Elok’ram is pointed as the highest place of the World yet discovered. Three main rivers are drawn: in the ancient myths of the people of this land, they represent the three Daughters of Ghört, weavers of men’s destinies: Tibreÿa, Uleÿa, and Snimeÿa. Snimeÿa cuts the thread of life, which is shown as the river leads after many meanders to the Marshes of Doom.
    • Far East, North: the Land of Båd Al’Guz, Åsgurdy. A harsh mountainous land of islands and seas.
      Both parts of the World seem to ignore each other till now, as they are separated by the Great Rift, which in the past has deterred many intrepid navigators.
    • South: the Desert Lands. Illi’s birthplace, rarely explored by humans thus unaware of most of its marvels, gripshawks nomadic tribes included.

    When he discussed Arona’s village with Fiona, Quintin had the vision of some dolphin-like creatures, but bright yellow. They are called golfindels and are mostly seen on the northern shores of Arona’s homeland, which is thus called Golfindely.

    #261
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    In searching for a sheet of paper to do some sketches of images going through his mind, Bill found an old poem he had started a long time ago, when he was feeling like he was completely transforming himself. He had not finished the poem, but had kept it all along…

    It said:

    I’ve been wandering through the valleys of death
    Where time knows no ending and all is gray
    And shadows seek nothing but oblivion itself
    In mazes of mist, minds’ errands led astray…

    Perhaps it was time to let go of useless things, Bill thought to himself.

    He watched the paper slowly smoldering and shrinking and falling to black and white cinders into the hearth.

    :fleuron:

    Before going to sleep that night, Quintin had the sensation of Janice’s presence. He was surprised, because she was no longer the little girl he had seen at times, but she was a very pretty young woman, with dark wavy hair.

    She had giggled at his surprise, telling him that yes, she was catching up with him…

    :fleuron:

    The City, year 2255 (%)

    Today was Janice’s birthday, but not her birthday as the Ancients, two and half a century from her time, would have counted it. It was counted from the time of the conception, as the future parents in this time were fully aware of the agreements they would have with the soul they would decide to give birth to.

    It was a reminder of this agreement between the parents and the child that was celebrated, and not the actual birth date.

    Janice had felt Cyprus’ presence quite strongly, and she decided to let herself open to the subjective communication. She was conversing with her friend Qixi, and sent her some energy to let her know she would probably remove her attention for a few moments, knowing she would be accepting.

    When she closed her eyes, she could immediately feel herself engulfed by the strong yet smooth energy of Cyprus; it was like being kissed by a swarm of blue sparkling butterflies.

    Then she opened her eyes.

    She was in an ancient classroom, with Cyprus focused as a teacher figure. Cyprus was seated behind her desk and came at once to great Janice.

    — Good morning!
    — Good morning Cyprus, you wanted to say something to me?
    — In actuality, you wanted me to tell you something, answered Cyprus with a mysterious smile.
    — Yes, I thought so. Is it about what I am choosing to do as an activity?
    — Correct.
    — You are aware that I want to be creating of worlds, and give them to people that would have commissioned them…
    — Yes, I am aware. And you wanted me to highlight some misconceptions about that.
    — Oh, misconceptions?
    — Yes. As you know, with these worlds that you create, you have infinite potential of explorations. You also know that they are not independent from the rest, even when you take great care of encapsulating them in an energy field. And as such, they are not cut-off from yourself, as soon as you deliver them.
    — It feels like a tremendous responsibility.
    — It is, and it is not. The responsibility is to yourself, as always. But, I wanted you to be aware that you hold some responsibility, to examine your own injections into these worlds that you create, so that you can be neutralizing what is not desired, and not merely hiding it deeper inside the world itself.
    — OK, I will do that…
    — Ahaha, there is another thing, my dear.
    — Oooh…
    — You also wanted me to make sure you understood what I meant.
    — Ahahaha, I see. Wiggling out won’t be as easy as I thought, Janice said with a smile. So, is it the reason for this classroom?
    — Nothing is hidden from you, as always.

    So Janice took a look at the sheet of paper on top of her own school desk.

    — I’ll be around if you need me, reassured Cyprus.
    — Thank you, said Janice

    The paper was like a spot test, with a few questions on it.

    :fleuron2:

    Study on a Few Contradictory Beliefs

    1. GUILT

    a. An old lord has lost contact with his son, because of harsh things said in the past.

    Write a short story about him realizing how guilt is not effective, and how past can be changed from the point of present by direct action.

    b. Detail the main beliefs you can see associated with this action of guilt.

    2. FEAR

    a. A man chooses to be disengaging by drowning in a river. During his transition, he faces his fears, helped in that by a friendly spirit. The fears take the forms of a forest of trees, all similar, with branches and malicious roots extending to him. In his previous life, the man thought he was a fool, as an excuse to stand out of the numb crowd. But now he faces this crowd again, only to be able to go on his journey and let go.

    Write a short paragraph about his journey. Place yourself from the perspective of both him and the friendly spirit guiding him through his fears, and see how he helps himself in realizing he does not need to push the fears away, and that they can disappear easily.

    b. Detail the beliefs associated with his madness, that he needs to let go of in order to be crossing the forest, and go to the Bridge of Daffoldils that leads to his cave of Self.

    DUPLICITY

    In association with the last two examples, detail how duplicity (belief in good versus bad) is influencing of each of the actions, and can be neutralised by accepting self and trusting that you shall not betray yourself.

    :fleuron:

    Janice gave her paper to Cyprus, who took it and held it for a moment, evaluating the answers.

    Cyprus then made it burst into a bluish dancing flame, and when the paper had disappeared, smiled at Janice lovingly.

    #248
    EricEric
    Keymaster

    New York, October, 4 th 2033

    Albert had opened the newspaper, scanning distractedly through the various pages of text that would read aloud automatically when he was running his fingers through it. He was about to close it, when he noticed that article in the Life Focus section.

    (click for article)

    :fleuron:

    Dublin, October 5 th 2033

    Sean Doran Wrick had received tons of phone calls, emails and voice mails of condolences since the past few weeks, but he had not found the strength to answer any of them. Especially those coming from his father.

    That morning, he had received some letters that he would have left on top of the others, had he not recognized the round and cheerful calligraphy of Becky on one of them.

    He had known Becky when they had traveled together in Syria, and had enjoyed so much the lively young woman that they had kept in touch during all those years.

    He was pleased to read from her, and wanted to enjoy it fully.

    So he took his time to put to bed Guinevere and Peregrine before. Guinevere was the eldest, very mature for her barely 11 year old. She took great care of her younger brother, who was more dreamy and foolish. Peregrine would turn 10 next March… but he was hardly as responsible as his sister when she was his age…

    Dear Sean, Becky was writing

    I would have liked to finally take the time to write to you in better conditions, but I could not delay any longer. I saw the obituary in the newspaper, and wanted you to know that I share your grief and loss, and extend much love and support to you and to your dear little ones.

    I know you’re not the kind of person to be satisfied with banalities, so I will not dwell on this tragedy, and will remember the best moments we shared together.

    I still continue my studies and practices on dramatherapy, and till now it has proved very beneficial, in many ways. I have learned so many things. It’s quite rewarding. We are a close-knit group of fools (or drôles as Al loves to say, as some of his ancestors come from the bayous!), and that is very much enjoyable when things that tragic come to one’s reality.

    In case you feel like talking, don’t hesitate any moment, I’ll be here. Anytime.

    Love,

    Becky.

    :fleuron:

    Orkney Islands, October 4 th, 2057

    This year again, Sean Doran had not answered his father’s calls.

    This September 23 th was the twenty fourth anniversary of the disengagement of Lord Wrick’s daughter-in-law, and this was always a very somber period for the family.

    Hopefully, the twins were here to enliven the old mansion, for as long as their parents, Lord Wrick’s grand-children, would be traveling. And of course, there had been the unexpected return of the books, which had been comforting too.

    Nonetheless, Hilarion Wrick was sad, and Bill the painter was uneasy as to how he could not quite put right the portrait of the old dragon…

    #225
    TracyTracy
    Participant

    Becky and Sam were chatting on the phone. I want a day off from shifting, Becky sighed.
    I was saying that yesterday, Sam said, bugger off the shift.

    Becky was reading the rough notes for the new dimensional reality play they were working on with some friends from the create-your-own-drama group

    “You eat with me? Come on, sit down and tell me how you got there?” who is saying this, Georges or Dory? Becky asked Sam. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was finding the plot increasingly hard to follow.

    Dory, Sam replied, and then added, In my perception.

    Becky sighed, and then giggled, making a mental note to review the criteria for Day Off Shifting Day… It could be an awful lot of fun, too, this shifting, maybe Focus on Fun Day instead…

    … She needs to be like a host, Sam was saying. Becky hadn’t been listening properly and wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

    Ok, so pretend I am Dory right now and I say: How did you get here Georges?

    Hahahahh I won’t spoil you! Sam laughed, and Dory harumphed a bit to herself, wondering how to deal with the unexpected appearance of Georges. Not that she wasn’t delighted at the surprise visit, and quite charmed by him.

    ‘Enchanté’ he’d said, and she giggled again.

    To Sam she said Oh I thought that would be an easy help. Then she had an idea.

    I will write Georges smiled a big toothy grin, and said ‘I won’t spoil you’

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