Shadow Walker quickly organized the search party. In addition to Shadow Walker, Eagle Eyes, Fleet of Foot, Easy Tears, Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah gathered their private traveling provisions. Easy Tears was put in charge of the two wolf pups while Eagle Eyes led the party due to her superior vision while Shadow Walker, the “leader” was the last of the group. 

Eagle Eyes hardly needed great vision to follow the trail. (The raiders had obviously counted on speed rather than stealth to outdistance any possible pursuers.) However, Eagle Eyes quickly determined that there were only a dozen raiders. “It seems,” she said as they took a quick break to share a meal, “that they were only a small force who relied on surprise and speed to wreak havoc on the feast and then retreat quickly before we could counter-attack.” 

Shadow Walker nodded. “We could have easily defeated such a small force! We should have attacked immediately!” 

Lion Slayer spoke. “I am not so sure. I have never tried to fight a man who rides astride a horse! The horse is a strong creature and very fast. The man on horseback would be hard to hit while atop a horse, but it would be easy for the one on a horse to strike downward.” 

Easy Tears looked skeptical. “You killed a lion, so they say, which is much more dangerous than a horse! How can you be afraid of a horse?” 

Lion Slayer laughed. “I was very lucky to have two spears nearby to save Hudah from that lion! And, there were others nearby to help so that lion did not know which way to turn. It is likely that lion could have killed me easily despite my spears had I been alone. But do not underestimate the strength of horse. They can kill with a kick according to legend. And twelve of them together could trample a war party quickly.” 

Eagle Eyes nodded slowly. “Yes, horses are built for speed, but they also look to have sensitive ears and their feet are weapons. A warrior on a horse’s back. That could be formidable. At least they are easy to track!” 

Shadow Walker nodded. He looked over at Hudah Salah whose large, dark eyes were hard to read. “How about you, Hudah? Do you know anything about horses?” 

She frowned slightly and silence grew. At last, she said, “Only as husband Lion Slayer has said.” 

“Let us continue then. We have no idea how far they have taken Tu-Swift. He need to make haste or we will be known as Tu-Late.” No-one laughed at his grim humor. 

Soon the sextet continued alternating a jogging pace with a fast walk through the forest with Eagle Eyes in the lead. 

Fleet of Foot hung back for a time to be with Shadow Walker and whispered out of earshot of the others. “Shadow Walker, there is something you need to understand about the ways of the Nomads of the South. Hudah Salah will always defer to her husband, Lion Slayer. At least in public.” 

Shadow Walker frowned and jerked his head. “Why? What do you mean? Is there something wrong with her?”

“No,” Shadow Walker, “that is just their way. All the women defer to their husbands.” 

As the forest grew less dense, Shadow Walker lowered his voice still further. 

“Really? Does she have a different opinion when you talk with her privately?” 

Fleet of Foot snorted a laugh. “Oh, I have never spoken with her privately, nor do I intend to. And, I advise you not to try! That would be quite dangerous. The men are all quite jealous. I get the sense from Eagle Eyes that the women sometimes disagree with their husbands, but this is all just her surmise from a hesitation or fleeting look. Even to Eagle Eyes, she’s never said anything to overtly disagree.”

“That is truly odd. Can you imagine Many Paths never disagreeing? Or Eagle Eyes?” Shadow Walker chuckled. 

They walked on awhile in silence. As the forest thinned to scrubby trees and tall grass, they began to ascend a gentle slope. They were out of sight of their compatriots in front, but the trail, to their trained eyes, shouted its direction. 

“I can tell you that the Nomads of the South thought it remarkable that our leader is a woman.” 

Shadow Walker frowned slightly. “Really? What did they say?” 

Instead of answering, Fleet of Foot, asked, “Speaking of Many Paths, will you two become officially paired?” 

“I don’t know. It’s complicated. She is new to her role as leader and…”

Just then, they heard excited howling up ahead and jogged carefully forward scanning for trouble and recalling how they had been ambushed at their own feast. Ambush here seemed unlikely as the cover was slim. Soon, they heard the voices of the others. They sounded excited, but not in danger. They ascended to the peak of the small hill and looked down below. The scrub land sloped downward to a wide river. Beyond it, there lay a much rockier land littered with gravel. The rest of their crew were examining a recent campsite. Once again, the invaders had made no attempt to cover their tracks. The wolf pups seemed excited as though they had caught the scent of Tu-Swift. 

The six descended the plain, walking quickly but carefully, as much of the ground was littered with small stones that could easily turn the ankle of the unwary. At last they came to the bank of the river. Eagle Eyes began to wade in. To her, the water appeared moving, but not dangerous. The Veritas followed suit, but the Nomads from the South hung back on the shore. Fleet of Foot went back to them. 

“Come on. The water’s cold, but I don’t think it will sweep you off your feet. But if it does, just keep swimming till you get across.” 

Lion Slayer frowned, “You say simbling? Where is simbling?” 

“Swimming! Swimming!” Fleet of Foot made motions with his hands. 

Hudah Salah and her husband frowned and looked at each other. Eagle Eyes sighed. There had been no rivers at the central place of the Nomads of the South. They had drawn their water from wells. “So, do you know how to … how to crawl on the water?” 

Lion Slayer looked more bewildered than ever. “Crawl? On water?” 

Fleet of Foot cupped his hands and called out to Eagle Eyes who was emerging on the other side. “Come back! I think we will need to use rope to help them across. They don’t know anything about swimming.” 

Eagle Eyes looked back at the three still on the shore. She searched her memory and realized they had not seen any swimming at the camps of the Nomads. She turned and strode back into the river. Swimming would not be needed. The water had barely reached above her waist. But the current was plenty strong, she reckoned and might indeed be frightening to those unaccustomed to so much water all at once. 

She encouraged Shadow Walker and Easy Tears to turn back with her. When all six reconvened, she quickly tied a rope around the waist of each. “This will be safer for all of us. In case, the foot of anyone slips on a mossy rock, you will not fall. The others will hold you in place. Come. Now, we will be safe.” As she said this, she felt a sting of guilt. It’s true enough that it would be safer for the Nomads who apparently had no idea how to swim. But for the Veritas, the tethering ropes would make swimming more difficult, not easier. Still, there was no time for other solutions. 

Off they went, and only Lion Slayer seemed to have difficulty keeping his footing. Three times he slipped, and three times, Shadow Walker and Fleet of Foot pulled on the rope and took his arms to keep him from falling. They reached the other side, shivering in the late afternoon sun. Shadow Walker glanced at Hudah and could not help noticing that she looked much more fetching with her garments wetly clinging to her body. He pulled his eyes away, not wanting to offend the Nomads. Instead, he offered, “When we have found and returned Tu-Swift, we much teach you two to swim.” 

Lion Slayer shivered violently. “Thanks you, but not. Too big water.” Shadow Walker considered waiting for a few hours while all their clothes dried in the sun. It might be interesting to see Hudah without clothes. However, it would take time. Furthermore, based on what Fleet of Foot had said, he strongly suspected that Lion Slayer would not take kindly to such a suggestion. “No need. Let’s jog as best we can, being careful of the rocks. We will warm up quickly.” 

Fleet of Foot noticed that Eagle Eyes had gone on ahead and seemed to be examining a thick-leafed plant of some kind. She jogged back over to the group and spoke while she held out a small leaf. “This is aloe. This leaf has been broken. It’s used to treat burns. One of them was apparently burned…or perhaps it was for Tu-Swift. I do not know. But we should go. Follow me. I will take a path least likely to turn ankles.” Without another word, she jogged off. They all followed single file. Fleet of Foot jogged off next, followed by Hudah, Lion Slayer, Easy Tears and Shadow Walker. 

Shadow Walker kept scanning in all directions for signs of danger, but also made sure he attended to where he placed his feet. He allowed himself a ray of hope. The most likely person to be burned was Tu-Swift. If they bothered to treat him with aloe, then it would mean he was still alive but also that they probably wanted him for some purpose other than simply killing him. But even if that were true, it can’t be a very good purpose. And, what did it mean that they made no attempt so far to cover their trail? Perhaps their camp was simply so large and well-guarded that they had no fear of reprisals. 

As the sun began to set, the six found themselves jogging into a box canyon. There seemed to be no exit. Sheer rocks rose on every side. Yet, the horse tracks into the canyon remained unmistakable in the fading light, not just to Eagle Eyes but to everyone. The exhausted group made a cheering fire between one of the cliff walls and a large nearby rock. 

Shadow Walker shared his musings with the group. They nodded but could offer nothing additional. Eyes of Eagle spoke next, “I have reviewed in my mind all the signs I saw and followed. I see nothing and feel nothing of a false trail. I see no way that they could have backtracked without it’s being noticed. A single person, with careful steps, may walk backwards in their own tracks. But a horse? A dozen horses? I see no way that they did not come here. But then what?”

Silence. 

At last, Lion Slayer spoke. “Near our lands, but much farther south, there be places of pure sand. Some people venturing into those lands have disappeared. Such sand can swallow a person. Those lands are not like this land. Even in the land of all sand, a dozen horses and a dozen people? Surely, when first such disappeared, others would turn back, would they not?”  

Shadow Walker asked them to consider and dream of other times when things appeared impossible. “It is dark. In the light of morning, we will search more carefully. We will solve this puzzle. We will find Tu-Swift. Now, let our bodies rest and recover.” 

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Beginning of the Myths of the Veritas

Beginning of Book II of The Myths of the Veritas

 

Tu-Swift regarded his new companion with a mixture of curiosity, pity, and wariness. The boy couldn’t have been more than five summers. Huddled in a corner, the boy shook with fear as he regarded Tu-Swift with a wild-eyed stare. Tu-Swift wished he had some food to offer the boy, but he had none. His own stomach growled. He had hardly noticed the hunger because he was so thirsty. Inventory, he thought. Inventory will calm me. I must have something to comfort this terrified being. 

Tu-Swift calmed his breathing and relaxed his body. If he acted calm, that could help the little one calm down too. Animals of all kinds, including humans, reflected the emotional ambiance around them. He forced himself to stop staring at the other boy and instead focused on assessing his situation calmly. Surely, he though, if I can make friends with wolf cubs, I can do it with this boy. I am hungry, tired, thirsty, and scared. But I am alive and not badly hurt. My head still hurts and my forearm burns. Burns? I was shot! Tu-Swift slowly slid over to a spot where he could hold his arm up in the sunlight. His arm was burned but not badly. Suddenly, his memory returned, but it was a broken jar. He slowly and deliberately reconstructed that jar. 

He had gone to the feast. He had met with his friends. Many Paths was just joining them. There was an attack. Everyone ran for cover. Tu-Swift had thought he was shot with a flaming arrow. Actually the arrow had not pierced his skin but had pinned his sleeve to the wooden table. But it burned him. He tore his tunic to get free. He succeeded but the feast was being overrun with warriors. He dove under the table. Many strong hands pulled him out. He fought. But someone clubbed him on the back of the head. He lost consciousness. Now, here he was. But he still did not know for certain where “here” was nor why they had stolen him. Recovering his memory allowed him to calm himself further. 

Tu-Swift chanced glancing at the boy. Smiling, Tu-Swift put the flat of his hand on his own chest, he tapped himself and said in a dry whisper, “Tu-Swift.” He repeated the gesture. He tried to lick his lips but his tongue remained dry, his lips chapped. He tried again and said it hoarsely and softly. He hoped those outside would not hear and he did not want to frighten the little on. He repeated his name again. The boy looked a bit less terrified and pointed to his own chest and said, “Day-Nah.” 

To the ears of Tu-Swift, this name reminded him of the speech of the fierce and formidable warriors of the north. He lifted his hand and waved it then pointed with his other hand. “Hand” he said. He repeated it. The little one said “Hand” and then waved his own hand and said, “Ma-Nu.” They continued in this manner, each learning snippets of the other’s language. These “lessons”, Tu-Swift knew, would also remind Day-Nah that the two of them were not so different. After naming body parts, Tu-Swift pointed out through the slats and said, “Horses.” Day-Nah, nodded and repeated something close to that and then said, “EE-qah.” Tu-Swift became ever more convinced that this boy had been stolen from the fierce and formidable warriors of the north, but he couldn’t be sure. He wished he had paid more attention to the elders who had tried to teach him what they knew of other languages. Tu-Swift now knew that he had been a bit too impatient with himself and with his teachers, yearning to run in the fields rather than learning nonsense words of people he would likely never meet. 

Tu-Swift made his hand into a kind of horse and had it “run” along the packed dirt floor. He said, “Horse (pause) Run!”  Then, he changed the position of his hand only letting his index and middle fingers run as though on two legs, “Tu-Swift Run. Tu-Swift Run.” He pointed at Day-Nah. “Day-Nah Run. Day-Nah Run.” The little boy nodded. Just then, they both fled back into the far corners of their prison as they heard shouting outside. A heavy bar scraped across something and several guards appeared at the door wielding clubs. Tu-Swift felt sure they were both going to be beaten to death, but a guard simply put a jug and a platter inside. Then, the door shut again and they could hear the bar scrape back into place. Tu-Swift approached cautiously, but Day-Nah stayed huddled in the corner.

 Tu-Swift steadied himself, carefully smelling the water and then tasting a tiny drop before deciding it was unlikely to be poisoned. There were so many warriors, they could easily kill the two of them with clubs. Why bother with poison? He knew not to drink too much or too quickly when consumed with thirst, so with great force of will, forced himself to sip slowly. He looked at the little one. He put his two fingers on the ground, and made them go fast like a runner. “Tu-Swift Run Swift!” Then, he made his fingers go slowly, “Tu-Swift Run Slow.” He pointed to the jug and said, “Water. Water – Slow.” Day-Nah Water Slow.” 

The boy nodded. Tu-Swift handed the jug to Day-Nah” and thought, this little one is pretty smart. Day-Nah began slowly and then tilted the jug up but Tu-Swift grabbed it away. “Slow! Dah-Nah Water…slow.” He took a very slow, deliberate sip, and handed the jug back. This time the small boy showed a little more self-control. They both succeeded in keeping the water down and then shared the pasty sour-sweet acorn mash. Again, Tu-Swift cautioned the boy (and himself at the same time) to eat slowly. 

Two days passed somewhat uneventfully in this fashion, each boy learning a bit of the language of the other and becoming more trusting of one another. The guards left them alone for the most part. On the third day, however, several large guards entered and took away the small boy. Tu-Swift tried to stop them, but one of them struck Tu-Swift across the face sending him senseless onto the floor. Soon after Tu-Swift awoke, they threw the small boy back into the cell. Tu-Swift noticed that the boy was now wearing strange cuffs around his ankles and that these cuffs were connected by a short length of heavy hemp rope. Before he could communicate with Day-Nah, the guards overpowered Tu-Swift and despite his struggles, yanked him out into a nearby courtyard, held him down and put similar cuffs on his own ankles. Now, Tu-Swift could walk, but only in a slow shuffle. The guards unceremoniously threw him back into the dark cell. 

Tu-Swift tried chewing on the ropes but made little progress. His jaw ached with the effort. Day-Nah imitated him but made no progress at all. These ropes were thick and strong. At last, the two of them slept. In the morning, they were led by six guards to the place where the horses were kept. As they approached, the horses whinnied and jockeyed around in their pen. They were fettered even worse than were Tu-Swift and Day-Nah. The guards made it clear that the boys were to clean up all the horse manure. It was exhausting work, mostly accomplished by the older, stronger Tu-Swift, but both boys enjoyed the company of the other and were thankful to be outside in the open air. The horses, though fettered and cowed from beatings, were still dangerous and the boys had to be careful to avoid bites and hooves. As the boys continued to discover each other’s languages, Tu-Swift also spoke re-assuringly to the horses and Day-Nah followed suit. 

Tu-Swift looked up at the sun and could tell it was mid-day. A half moon also adorned the sky. From this Tu-Swift at last could confirm the directions that he had deduced from the sun’s movement during the day. He remained uncertain of the direction of home. One distant mountain peak appeared to be familiar. If that were indeed “The Old Man’s Nose” they would need to travel almost due south to get home, or at least the home of Tu-Swift. Tu-Swift discovered a sharp piece of stone which he picked up and hid for later use. 

That evening, as the sun sank beneath the distant mountains, the boys were led to stables where some of the more “broken” horses slept each in a small pen. Here, the boys were tied up in their own pen, in the vicinity of the horses but safe from trampling. They were given double rations at night and Tu-Swift continued to speak reassuringly to the horses. This seemed to calm the horses as well as Day-Nah, but mainly he did it to comfort himself. 

In the morning, the guards gave them a bit of water and double rations. Tu-Swift put a small portion of his own rations on the thick rope that tied his anklets together. He hoped horses liked sweet acorn mash as much as he did. If his luck held, they might just find out.  

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The first of five essays on SHRUGS (Super Hyper Really Ultra-Greedy Swindlers). 

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The First Ring of Empathy 

Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas 

[This is a temporary departure from The Myths of the Veritas which will continue soon].

Newsflash: Winning by Cheating is Losing; it is not Winning.

I would have hoped that this blog entry would be completely unnecessary to write in 2019, but apparently that is not the case. 

In 2015, I published The Winning Weekend Warrior. This book focuses on strategy, tactics, and the ‘mental game’ for all sports. It says nothing about technique or form. But for many people, continued focus on technique will not help nearly so much as it will for them to rethink strategy and tactics and to improve their self-control. The Winning Weekend Warrior says to never give in and never give up. I like to see a fighting spirit in an athlete and so do most people. But the book also discusses sportsmanship. Winning by cheating is not winning. Most sports have very clear and distinct rules about what is cheating and what is not. 

If you win by cheating, it disrespects the sport. It disrespects the audience. It disrespects your opponent. Most of all, if you win by cheating, you disrespect yourself. 

America, I am sure you are not surprised to hear, is a very competitive nation. We are competitive in every conceivable place where it makes sense to compete. In fact, we’re so competitive that we even compete in things that are historically and quintessentially cooperative rather than competitive. We have contests about singing, dancing, cooking and dating! We even compete on social media on sociality! 

It is natural for folks to root for their favorite athlete or favorite team. It is not particularly “natural” for people to riot after their team wins! It is not particularly “natural” for people to rejoice when their team “wins” even when they do so through cheating. (See paragraph three above). 

There is no doubt that political “contests” bear some resemblance to athletic contests. They both involve strategy, tactics, performance, metrics, etc. There is one huge difference though. The outcomes of political contests have real consequences in people’s lives. The politicians sometimes try to make you believe that there are consequences that will not actually come to pass. For example, they may tell you that they will greatly lower your tax bill and then actually increase it. Or, they may tell you that they will make your world safer and actually make it more dangerous. Or, they may tell you that they will lower your healthcare costs or “stand up to” giant pharma companies and then do just the opposite. Teams may also make promises to their fans — and then sometimes they break these promises. But the primary purpose of a team is to play the sport, not arrange things for the benefit of various constituents. 

By contrast, the primary purpose of politicians is to weigh the needs and wants of various constituents and then work to balance various interests, work compromises, help constituents find common ground and so on. The main point of a politician is not to campaign. Yet, today, we find ourselves in the odd position that a politician has “won” and rather than then do any of their duties and exercise their skill for finding common ground, weighing competing interests and proposing compromises, instead, they continue to campaign full time. 

Ordinarily, one might expect that citizens would be up in arms about a politician who fails to do their actual job and instead continues to campaign (and protect their personal interests). Astoundingly, however, the “fans” of the “winning team” continue to root for “their team” even though “their team” continues to campaign on the basis of the same lies that produced the initial “win.” 

In this case, the framing of politics as a sports contest is really counterproductive. The supporters of the winning “team” continue to support that “team” even though the winning “team” has zero loyalty to its supporters. (It also has zero loyalty to the citizenry in general, by the way. After an election, the “winning party” is supposed to govern the country in the interests of all its citizens, not only the ones who voted them in). 

So, here we have a seeming paradox. The “team” in power is using all its resources for their own benefit. They seem unconcerned with the nation as a whole. They seem unconcerned with continuing to lie and make false promises to their “base” because the “base” is loyal and supports their “team” no matter what. This loyalty has consequences. It means, essentially, that the party in power is not constrained in their exercise of power. They can do things that are against the interests of their “sports fans” precisely because their “sports fans” are not demanding anything in return. It only matters to the “sports fans” that they are on the “winning side” regardless of how horrible the consequences may be for the nation as a whole, for the vast majority of people on that “winning team” and even for their kids and grandkids. 

In some cases, it seems that those who view themselves as being on the “winning team” are even aware that they are behaving against their own interests but are willing to do so simply because those on the “losing team” will feel even worse! This is a perversion of winning. 

Suppose you can have one of two outcomes: A or B. In A, you get $5000 free and clear but I get $10,000. In choice B, you lose get $5000, but I will lose $10,000. Which one would you pick? A or B?  Astoundingly, some people are filled with so much fear and loathing that they will pick B! It’s $10,000 worse for them, but that’s okay because it’s $20,000 worse for me! You don’t know me. I’ve never hurt you. Yet, you choose to hurt me anyway even if it means hurting yourself too. This is not winning!

In the case of contemporary American politics, it appears that so-called “identity” politics may interact with this tendency to think of yourself as a winner even if you’re actually a loser. If the “me” you are trying to hurt with your self-defeating choices supports gays, or women, or people of color, then you may feel that losing $5,000 dollars will be worth it because gays or women or people of color make you feel “uncomfortable.” Naturally, the “discomfort” is within. What you really object to is something within yourself that you don’t want to acknowledge. 

To be fair, this is not an issue that applies only those on the political “right” or the political “left.”  When a foreign adversary is out to gain hegemony over other nations, the very best way is to sow political discord in the nation that they want to weaken. Putin, for instance, has certainly succeeded in doing that in the UK as well as the USA. People in America who are socially conservative may hate the left, but Putin is also doing whatever he can to make the left hate the right as well. Unfortunately, since the society itself is so hyper-competitive, both sides tend to focus on “winning.” 

Contests to the death make much more interesting stories than ones where the parties come to a compromise or find a solution that makes more sense than the solution that either the left or the right began with. So, since media are largely incentivized to provide more “engaging” stories, in a hyper-competitive society, this means they prefer a story of winning and losing more than a story of compromise. 

In the realm of sports, no-one I know, myself included, would enjoy a contest where those racing a mile would get together before the opening gun and “agree” to walk the mile together at a leisurely pace! That’s boring! And it doesn’t show us the “edges” of human capability either. I certainly recommend nothing of the kind in The Winning Weekend Warrior. 

But politics is not sports. 

In politics, the best outcome is precisely that various parties agree. The best process is one that follows the rules; one where people put their actual interests out there on the table and then people work together to find an emergent solution using the best ideas on both sides. Such a process, however, is in the best interests of the politicians only if the “fans” on both sides demand it. If either side, or both sides, instead insist it’s just fine to break the rules provided their side “wins” then only the politicians benefit — not the people. The media also benefits, at least in the short term. When carried to its logical conclusion, “winning at all costs” is a loss. 

Winning by cheating is a loss for the country. It’s a loss for the world. It’s a loss for future generations. We seem to have forgotten this.

Hopefully, next time, we will at last — at long last — remember.   

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