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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Category Archives: apocalypse

Fate and Late on the Interstate

10 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

cellphone, driving, fiction, life, short story, story, Travel, truth

128

Braintree: Don secured Timmy’s Infant Seat, shut the door and slid into the driver’s seat. He glanced over at Ivy and smiled.

Reading: Mitch’s eyes already drooped. He cracked the window; turned up the radio. His 18-wheeler responded sluggishly around the curves, the cylindrical hold sated with liquid propane.

Norwood: Don glanced left at the small planes circling the airport. “When Timmy’s older and we’ve socked away some money, I’m learning to fly.”
Ivy frowned and stared for a moment at her husband before asking, “Why on earth would you do that?”

Woburn: Mitch wondered to himself, why is 128 always crowded with traffic, day or night? God, I’m tired. What station to choose? Too many lights, he thought to himself and rubbed his eyes. He opened his driver-side window fully. The air was warm and moist.

Needham: “Don, didn’t we promise to bring wine?”
“Shoot! Yeah. Not sure where though. They don’t have anything like that at the rest stops.”
“Better hurry or we’ll miss the fireworks.”
“I promise Ivy. We won’t miss the fireworks. Hand me my phone.”

Lexington: Mitch thought, Crap. No truck stops? I need coffee. Only on the Pike maybe. No, there’s gotta be one here somewhere. Geez. I pity poor Jim who has this boring route every day. A promise is a promise though. Mitch smiled and thought, you owe me, Jim, big time.

Wellesley: “Ivy, do you remember — didn’t we visit Shelly off this exit once and I’m pretty sure there’s a wine store right down Washington. Right?”
“All I remember is your outrageous flirting with Shelly all night. Give me the phone. I’ll look it up. Anyway, Washington is mostly boarded up these days. Dead.”
“I did not! I wasn’t flirting.”
“Just promise you’ll never to do it again. And hand me the phone.”

Waltham: Windows rattled. Expensive porcelain shattered. Babies awoke. Dogs barked.

Boston: Many saw the bright and distant flash. Most assumed it was merely ordinary folks in Lexington or Concord celebrating the birth of the nation; celebrating their freedom from the tyranny of a distant ruler; celebrating their independence from foreign rule.

fire warm radio flame

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Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

The Declaration of Interdependence

A Profound and Utter Failure

Camelot is in your Heart

09 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

America, Camelot, Democracy, legends, myths, peace, poem, poetry, revolution, story, USA, war

 

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The Knights are mostly scattered now;
And Arthur Pendragon long since dead;
A Kingdom ruled by shadows instead. 

The castle lies in broken rubble.
The fields, fallow, untended and bare.
Our Flag doesn’t ripple in cold blue air. 

The maimed, the stunned, stumble, grumble
Of what was once so full of grace,
And now is gone without a trace. 

A grain of wheat is blown by wind,
I seize and touch, and then I see,
Those fields and fields wave goldenly. 

Upon the ground, a hunk of brick —
Its one of hundreds, standing tall
And thickly building castle wall. 

Beside the fallen orchard trunks —
A rotten apple laced with bees;
Inside that core are apple trees! 

Not in warfare, not in plans,
Not in science, not in art,
Not in numbers, not in chart, 

Camelot, 

My friends, 

Is in your heart. 

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Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Wonder, Wonder, Who Kept the Wonder?

08 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

America, fiction, life, love, parable, romance, story, truth, USA

woman in black jumper riding on purple component

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“Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you a wonder from the farthest corner of the world: a being that is half frog, half man!” shouted Carnival Barker.

“Whoa! Now, that’s weird, isn’t it, Denise?” said Boy.
“Weird, all right. But, kinda … wonderful in way too,” said Girl.

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“Thanks for a wonderful evening,” said Girl.
“So? Maybe we can go out again some time?” asked Boy, leaning in for a gentle kiss.

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“You look just wonderful in that dress!” exclaimed Boy.
“Thanks!” blushed Girl, as they spun through other the dancers.”

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“I wonder how I ever got lucky enough to meet you,” said Lover.
“Oh, that ring! Wonderful! Of course, I’ll marry you, silly,” said Beloved.

photo of engagement ring

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“Listen, darling, they’re playing our song!” laughed Woman.
“Wunderbar, Wunderbar, It’s a bright and shining star,
Like our love, it’s Wunderbar!” sang the record.

photo of mountain under starry night sky

Photo by Marco Milanesi on Pexels.com

“You’ll wonder where the yellow went…
When you brush your teeth with Pepsodent,” promised Announcer.
“Turn off the TV. I’m trying to sleep!” mumbled Wife.

woman wearing crop top standing near wire fence

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“Sometimes, I wonder where you ever learned to drive,” muttered Wife.
“Just shut up and let me drive,” said Husband.
“You’re going too fast,” complained Wife.

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“Hey, Charley! Ain’t these great burgers? Hmm. Wonder what that siren’s all about.
Comin’ right by the place. I just wonder,” said Steve, sipping his Bud.

Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com
Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com
Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Photo by Tembela Bohle on Pexels.com
Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com
Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com

“Jeez!” The sheriff shook his head. “They must’ve been doin’ eighty when they hit that guardrail. Wonder what the heck happened. There were plenty of signs posted about the danger ahead.”

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“Someone must have fallen asleep at the wheel, I guess,” offered Deputy,
“Happens all the time. Don’t it?”

“Indeed it does,” answered sheriff. “Indeed it does.”

Photo by Jose Lorenzo on Pexels.com
Photo by Jose Lorenzo on Pexels.com
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Author Page on Amazon

Index to Essays on America 

Trumpism is a New Religion

Myths of the Veritas: Inversnaid Revisited

06 Friday Mar 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, politics, psychology, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Cupiditas, death, ego, greed, legends, life, myth, Resistance, stubbornness, truth, Veritas

animal bee bloom blooming

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Trunk of Tree led the small group through the fields of wildflowers buzzing with bees and up the  grassy foothills that marked the edge of the lands the Veritas considered as home. Jaccim and Cat Eyes came next, each leading a pack horse. Cat Eyes discovered that she had a fondness for horses and, oddly enough, for Jaccim himself. Each day of the journey, Jaccim became more familiar with the Veritas language, thanks to tutoring by Cat Eyes. She spoke with Jaccim partly to learn more of his people, but this proved difficult. Jaccim had memorized a few verses that the Z-Lotz had insisted everyone learn, but he could not explain what the verses meant. 

In fact, Jaccim knew almost nothing about the history of his own people, nor how they came to be aligned with the Z-Lotz. Cat Eyes discovered that Jaccim had learned how to handle horses from his own father and uncle. He had ridden from an early age and had taken part in a number of different raids when he was younger — raids to steal children for the Z-Lotz. To her astonishment, Cat Eyes learned that Jaccim had never asked himself why they had been stealing children, or what was to become of the children once they were delivered to the Z-Lotz let alone how these cruel predations ravaged the children or their families. It was just what he was told to do so he did it. Cat Eyes sighed and shook her head. She considered trying to give some insight to Jaccim about what her life had been like but decided this was not the time. They were relying on Jaccim to find a path through to her homeland. If she were successful in having Jaccim see and feel just how reprehensible his actions had been, how might he react? She did not know; but she didn’t want to chance his bolting with the horses, which could have been one possible reaction. 

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Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

Sometimes, Jaccim was silent for long periods of time. Sometimes, Jaccim asked Trunk of Tree to stop for a moment. Jaccim would close his eyes, apparently in some sort of inner dialogue with himself. Then, he would open them and scan their surroundings. Then, he would point and nod. Trunk of Tree would continue down the path chosen. When Cat Eyes grew tired of her tutoring, she would drop back a few paces to chat with Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah. She had learned a few words of the language of the Nomads of the South when she was in the City of the Z-Lotz, but she was learning much more from them. In particular, she asked about various kinds of plants, animals, and physical features that she saw. When she learned a new word, she would store it in her head. She began to notice as the journey wore on that the words of the Nomads and the words of the Veritas and the words of the ROI and Z-Lotz, while all different, were not so different as they might have been. 

in distant photo of tree on landscape field

Photo by Sebastian Beck on Pexels.com

At one point, their small group rested under a large, spreading oak which dominated a long slope of golden grass. Called “oak” in Veritas, the Z-Lotz word was “oag” and the Southern Nomads called it “oh-kah.” At first, Jaccim only referred to the tree in terms of the ROI expression: “hard to work wood tree”, but at last, he recalled that some called it “oat-tah.” While Cat Eyes carried on her linguistic queries, the rest of the group began to prepare a lunch. Jaccim tethered the horses to a low hanging branch. Fleet-of-Foot, who had been mainly walking with Easy Tears, jumped up and grabbed a branch, pulled himself up, and soon clambered to the crown. From here, hidden in the thick summer foliage, he peered around in all directions. He also cupped his hands around his ears while spreading his ears out slightly. Thus able to hear much fainter sounds, he slowly turned his head, listening as well as watching for any possible armies, game, or … what was that sound? As he turned toward the still-distant Twin Peaks, he heard a slight sound of … rushing water? It seemed to be coming from the nearby foothills. These hills were similar to the ones they had just left, but grew steeper and larger. Somewhere in those hills, fresh running water gurgled over rocks and sang its song loudly enough for him to hear from his high perch. Convinced that they were in no immediate danger, he climbed down to have his share of the lunch and told the group of his discovery. 

The next morning, after they climbed the top of a hill, they could all hear the roar of water and soon, they could see the sun glinting off the rushing water in the distance. Jaccim confirmed that long ago, the raiding party had also found this stream. It took most of the day to reach the water. The “stream” that Jaccim had mentioned was more properly called a river now. Cat Eyes pointed to the high peaks before them and, they were able to see tiny threads of silver cascading down the sides of the mountains. Some of that distant water would eventually find its way into this river, she reckoned. They refilled their water skins. As they sat around their small evening campfire telling their stories and making their plans, they were treated to a distant show of lighting and a reverberating thunder. The horses, despite being tethered near the coolly flowing water, paced nervously and nickered. 

cascade creek environment fern

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Trunk of Tree, who had grown weary of stories and plans at last said, “Let’s get to sleep. I’ll take the first watch. Then, Lion Slayer. Then, Fleet of Foot. We leave early in the morning.”

Jaccim shook his head, “We’re all tired. We have a long journey tomorrow. Many days after. We must move away from the river.” 

Trunk of Tree grunted. “Absurd. I’m in charge. This is a perfect spot. The horses can drink their fill. We cannot easily be seen. There is game. Sleep now. Walk in the morning.” 

Cat Eyes glanced at Jaccim. He was frowning. His mouth moved but no words came. She asked in ROI, “Why should we move, Jaccim.” 

Jaccim spoke quickly in ROI and supplemented his speech with sign language. “The rain on the mountain will melt more ice and bring much water. This water — or much of it — will come riding down the mountain like a herd of horses or buffalo and trample everything beneath it. We must move to higher ground or be trampled.” 

Cat Eyes translated for the group. 

Trunk of Tree held up his hand part-way through. “Absurd. No. We are safe here.” 

Cat Eyes could see that Trunk of Tree was “digging in” and ignoring the ideas of others. He was the sort of person, she saw, who found it particularly difficult to “change his mind” once he had made a decision. She shook her head and closed her eyes so that Trunk of Tree could not see her rolling them in disgust at his intransigence. 

Cat Eyes spoke in her softest, most enticing voice. “Trunk of Tree. You are our leader. I have no idea whether there is danger here. How can we know? But I do know something of the power of water. When we escaped from the war party that came to the burned village of the ROI, we rode hollowed logs. We almost went over a cliff but, thanks to luck, and Jaccim’s quick thinking, we were able to get to shore just in time. The logs were big, but when they went over the water cliff, those logs smashed onto rocks below as easily as I can break a twig — or, Trunk of Tree, in your case, as easily as you can break a large branch.” 

Trunk of Tree shook his head again. He looked at Lion Slayer. “Have you ever seen or heard of such a sudden river coming?” 

island during golden hour and upcoming storm

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Lion Slayer answered, “I have not seen such. We have too little water. In my life, I have never seen too much. But we do have stories about such. Too much water comes too quickly and kills plants, animals, and even strong trees, stout in trunk, have fallen, according to the stories. But no, I have not seen such myself.” 

“But I have. And, so too have you seen this, Trunk of Tree, or at least the aftermath.” It was the quiet clear voice of Easy Tears.

Trunk of Tree frowned at her. “What are you talking about?” 

Easy Tears smiled in the fading campfire light. “I am talking about the Battle of the Three Paths. Eagle Eyes devised a way to make much water come at once and washed away quite a few of the Cupiditas warriors. Some of the Veritas may have forgotten. Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah were not there, but you might remember, Trunk of Tree. Do you?” 

Trunk of Tree considered. “Maybe something. I was busy fighting. Perhaps. But I doubt it could have actually toppled the warriors. Not if they were strong.” 

Fleet of Foot nodded, “I saw it with my own eyes. It was something I will never forget. One minute a throng of Cupiditas soldiers were running across a shallow stream and suddenly the whole lot of them were knocked off their feet and taken away from us. Listen!” Fleet of Foot pointed upstream. The others turned and listened. In the quiet, they heard the horses whinnying but also stomping the ground and jerking at their tethers. 

Jaccim added, “Horses know danger. Horses know danger. Good ears!”  

brown and white horse

Photo by Rolandas Augutis on Pexels.com

Cat Eyes cupped her hands behind her ears. “NOW! Move!” 

Trunk of Tree stood and threw his arms in the air and shouted, “This is ridiculous! Absurd! It’s only water! I don’t hear anything!” 

The others grabbed what they could and scrambled to higher ground. Jaccim however, went first to the horses, untied them and swung his leg up around one of them and grabbed hold of the other by the rope that necklaced the neck of the other. 

The voice of Cat Eyes rang out, “Trunk of Tree! Come! We need you to lead us! Don’t get swept away like the Stupiditas!” 

“I’m staying right here! You are all fools! I don’t….” 

The group had all climbed a nearby hill but there was no sign of Jaccim, Trunk of Tree, or the horses. Now, everyone could hear the roaring water bearing down on their location. Jaccim rode up astride the largest horse, still carrying water skins. He led another horse and across the back of that horse, Trunk of Tree lay senseless. 

Jaccim looked at Cat Eyes and shouted in ROI to be heard above the roar. “Sorry. I had to knock him out. For his own good. Will he try to kill me when he wakes?”  

Everyone now looked down at the valley right below them. In the dim light of the moon they could see, not a river, but a wall galloping down the valley. It was a wall not just of water but of ice and logs and mud and rocks as well! It destroyed everything in its path. 

Cat Eyes screamed back, “I won’t let him!” But she could barely hear her own voice. She wasn’t sure Jaccim could make out what she was saying. She used sign language to emphasize her promise of protection, but no-one was watching. All stared down below, mesmerized by the chaos beneath them. The riverbed swelled. The wall of water passed them and became a mere churning sea of blackish brown water swirling in the moonlight. 

Cat Eyes slowly shook her head and gritted her teeth. Trunk of Tree, their supposed “leader” of this expedition had almost gotten the whole lot of them killed. And why, she wondered. The answer came to her unbidden. His pride, she thought. His stupid pride. He made up his mind without knowing the facts. Then, when he heard the facts, he refused to listen. As though his ignorance was somehow better than facts. And that ignorance and vainglorious vanity had almost destroyed all of them and instead of connecting with her people, his stupidity has nearly cost them … the Veritas might not have ever found out what had happened to them. She might never have seen Tu-Swift or Many Paths ever again. And the Veritas would have to face the Z-Lotz with seven fewer warriors and without the horses and without the knowledge to be gained by connected with the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks. 

mountain covered with snow

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She considered killing Trunk of Tree herself. It would be easy enough to do while he was unconscious. She knew exactly where to press hard on his neck. It had worked on one of her worst tormentors in the Z-Lotz village. She had gotten away with that because that monster, known as M-M-M, was old and terribly fat and unfit. Everyone had dismissed his death as natural. She had left no marks on his body. And she had even pretended to grieve for him … as though she had been desirous of the attentions of that cruel monster man. But no-one would believe someone as strong and fit and young as Trunk of Tree died in his sleep. If anything, they would blame Jaccim for hitting him too hard on the head in order to knock him out. It would be seen as accidental but — they were arguing right before. Too risky, perhaps. But how else to take down a leader who nearly led his own expedition to death for no reason, other than his own stupid pride at being unwilling to admit his own ignorance? Disgusting. 

Trunk of Tree’s idea of “leadership” was to impose his will on others. Wasn’t that exactly the same as old M-M-M — imposing his will on her? His pleasure had seemed to come, not from the sex itself really, but from making her engage in sex against her own will. She saw Trunk of Tree as nothing more than a younger version of M-M-M and she desperately wanted to kill him in his sleep. Once he awoke, it would be much more dangerous. But it was also dangerous to let him stay their leader. Why had Many Paths even chosen him to “lead” this expedition. She must have known what kind of a person he was. Leader! Hah! 

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—————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Inversnaid (by Gerald Manly Hopkins)

 

The Lost Sapphire

29 Saturday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

fiction, jewels, life, parable, Paradise Lost, ruby, sapphire, short story, story, truth

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I cannot recall where or when or how I had first gotten the giant blue sapphire. Of course, even at five years, I knew it might not be a real sapphire; at least, that’s what my parents insisted. They called it “just glass.”

But, they might just possibly be wrong. After all, I could look into it forever. And, if I looked real hard, I could see the dim, midnight blue outline of things beyond and through the stone, transformed by the magic of the stone into something quite out of the ordinary; something heavenly, mysterious.

So far as I could tell, my parents never actually saw the stone; certainly they never looked through it. They’d just glance at it and say, “Oh, yeah, it’s blue glass.” Well, it seemed to me that it must be a real sapphire. Besides making things look beautiful, there was something else — something mom and dad never even tried to understand. It was this. If something happened I didn’t like; if I were sad because my dog was “put to sleep” or scared of getting a shot, I could look at this sapphire and it made me feel better! It made it all: Okay. If I listened carefully, it spoke words of wisdom and comfort. It was obviously worth a lot more than my parents knew.

True, there was a tiny chunk broken out of one corner. But that didn’t really matter. The stone was still perfect. Perfect, something to be kept forever.

Forever, that is, until Jimmy moved next door. Jimmy was ten years old and had a two wheel bike. Jimmy towered up nearly as thick and high as an adult. But Jimmy was still young enough to see the powerful magic in the sapphire. One bright Saturday morning, on the green grass of the “devil strip” between the white sidewalk and the forbidden black street where the deadly cars zoomed, I sat in the grass watching the magic sapphire, listening for its words of wisdom. Jimmy came and plopped down beside me. He flashed the red reflector from his bike in the sunlight. Oh, how it sparkled into my eyes!

“Do you want this ruby?” asked Jimmy innocently.

“Oh! Okay. Thanks!”

Jimmy handed it to me and let me flash it in the sun. It was so much brighter than the sapphire! It sparkled fire!

“Great,” said Jimmy, “Let me have the sapphire.” He snatched it from the grass where I had lain it, jumped up and ran into his house.

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Photo by ARUNODHAI VINOD on Pexels.com

I stared dumbly at the huge shut door, then back down at the red reflector in my hand. Maybe this was a good trade after all, I thought. It was really bright all right. And when you moved it in the sun, it made different starburst patterns. After all, it had come from a full-sized two-wheeler. But still…something was missing. Then, a buzzing filled my ears. I suddenly realized that the reflector was just pretty glass! There was no magic to it. It didn’t speak; it just buzzed its foolish empty buzz. I couldn’t look through it to other things. It had no depth. And worst of all, it could never make anyone feel better, not even a little bit. “I thought you meant…for a minute…” I mumbled to the big kid behind the thick wooden door.

I considered telling my mom and dad. Maybe they could get the sapphire back! I hated telling them. You just don’t tell parents about kid troubles; it’s against the main unwritten law of being a kid. But maybe they could get my sapphire back! When I finally told them what had happened, they said, “Well, you made a trade.” I tried to get Jimmy to trade back, but he had none of it. Jimmy soon moved away, never to be seen again. But I kept the red reflector — not to look at because that would seem somehow unfaithful to the spirit of the sapphire — but just in case Jimmy came by one day wanting to trade back.

And later, much later, I used my allowance to buy special clear marbles — called “Peeries” — emerald green and dark blue with bubbles in them, and my dad got me a cool science kit with a clear rainbow prism that threw color into everything, and then one day I looked into the deep, sparking blue eyes of a blond girl named Jennifer and later into the sparkling blue eyes of a beautiful woman named Wendy and then into real diamonds and computer screens and experimental results and statistical analyses and conclusions, insights, and science fiction.

All of those things were good and all of these spoke to me.

But I still wonder where the blue sapphire is and how to get it back. How to get it back? The magic. Not clever illusion; not something made to look nice; but true and actual magic.

Are you out there, Jimmy? Because I still have your red reflector if you want to trade back.

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(This story first appeared summer 1997 in the e-zine, The Empty Shelf. Somehow, it seemed apropos to today).


 

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration 

Fire and Ice

27 Thursday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, story, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

empathy, environment, fable, fire, greed, hate, ice, life, love, myth, story

orange flame

Photo by Francesco Paggiaro on Pexels.com

Fire: “What are you doing here? Fool. I’m god on earth now. You’re neither wanted nor needed. It’s over.”

Ice: “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

Fire: “Bah. In war, it is I who kills. Flame-throwers, the gunpowder propelling bullets, bombs, and best of all, but rarely used, atomic fire. Oh, it warms my heart to see all that death and destruction.”

Ice: “Yes, but I am your best partner, though you know it not.”

ice formation

Photo by Simon Matzinger on Pexels.com

Fire: “You? Hah. Okay, I grant you, frostbite and cold have destroyed the bodies of many. Napolean and Hitler and Lord knows who else’s armies. But still.”

Ice: “No, you’re foolish and rambling as ever. I’m not talking about how I can help you kill. I’m talking about how I prepare the ground for you. Make people not care. Encourage the turning of a cold shoulder, a blind eye. Without me, people might never turn to you. Without me, how could they contemplate intentionally ignoring the truth? How could they embrace the litany of lies that lead to war? Who would willingly kill others if they clearly saw how useless and cruel it all was?”

Fire: “Yeah, yeah. I doubt it. Fire begets fire. Hate begets hate. What does your little chill of indifference have to do with it? Be gone or I’ll melt you to water. Boil you to steam.”

Ice: “Perhaps. But I might douse you to smoldering embers. I suggest you think about it. We can work as partners. Each making the other stronger. Actually, we have been partnering, but I’ve never gotten the credit I deserve! You’ve ignored me too long.”

men s black and white checkered shirt

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Fire: “Hah! Not nearly so much as you have ignored me! You’re useless without me!”

Ice: “Fine, if that’s the way you feel, then this is goodbye! Forever.”

Humanity decided to open its heart; embrace empathy; dismiss the lies of “other” and instead loved everyone as sister and brother. Fire shook his coronal locks in disdain and slunk off to reinvigorate himself in the core of a distant star.

Ice regained his rightful throne at the poles of the spinning emerald and sapphire planet. He abandoned the heart of humanity. Unbridled greed became nothing but the shadowy memory of a bad drug trip or a recurring nightmare — still scary to contemplate, but powerless to destroy the trajectory of life’s grand and glorious growth.

earth space universe globe

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 


Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Race, Place, Space, Face

26 Wednesday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, poetry, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

love, peace, poem, poetry, race, racism, time

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Space

Allowed the growth of Race.

Race is all about crossing Space
In the shortest Time.

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To save Face,
Many of one Race
Insist they own Space;
Want their own Place.

To win Face,
Someone might fake the Time
It took to cross a Space
And claim a Place
On the winner’s stand and Time,
Their grand Smile
For awhile, so in Style.

Style is a sign of Race,
Of Place,
What kind of Face
Do you want to Grace
What comes into and on your Place?
Your Face?
Your Grace?

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Is there any kind of Reason or Rhyme
To the Time
That we spend trying to Smile —
Trying to use Style
To win Face over Face,
If it means that Life
Is Rife with Strife?

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If there were more Time
And we listened for the Rhyme
Would we finally See
Eternity?
Infinity?
The ultimate futility
Of Racing Race over Race,
Face over Face?

IMG_9189

How Odd of God
To give us Life
And then program us to a Life of Strife.
Perhaps the Miller’s Wife
Was right all Along —
The Strong
And stupid “Might Makes Right”
Is just another way of saying: “Fight Fakes Sight.”
For if we could truly See
The Space
The Time
That separates you and Me —

680174EA-5910-4F9B-8C75-C15B3136FB06_1_105_c

Is nothing but illusion and a sick Joke
Not worth the Choke
Of atomic Fire
Ruining Desire
Forever and forevermore
(It isn’t worth the bleeding sore).

IMG_9815

We could reach our hands Out
Across the Space
And Shout:

“Race
Has gone! We’ve won, we all shall Live!
Place?
We do not care; we all shall Give:
Love to our common planet, our Space.
Love to our common people, our Race.
Love each moment of our common Time,
Echo, echo each to each our common rhyme.
Our common rhyme.”

IMG_0442

I think, it’s about Time.
Let’s save this Place!
Let’s forget Race.
Face it, Face
Is a Race that can’t be won;
We’re already one.
We are already One.

7551D277-6606-4C1B-9E06-5E4E44C81A64

We can pull and we can Push;
We can blow ourselves to Mush —
But the fact remains that we are One
So whoever wins hasn’t truly Won.
They are only has-been nth Place.
We are all the Human Race,
And we all share this little Space.

Listen to the echo of our common Rhyme
Let’s use Love — Love to fill our common Time.

A13D392E-DFD8-47ED-9D4C-5C3F3E6318CF


———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Serious Fun and Games

25 Tuesday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

codes, Design, games, greed, legend, life, love, myth, relationships, Veritas

woman holding white plumeria flower

Photo by The Lazy Artist Gallery on Pexels.com

Tu-Swift watched the small party leave and chewed the inside of his lips. Though he understood the “rationale” that Many Paths had given for the composition of the search party, he suspected that her real reason for leaving him out was more personal. She wanted to keep Tu-Swift close at hand. True enough, his knee still didn’t act quite right. He would walk along just fine for a time and then, he would just slightly misjudge the ground and a rock might slide a little to one side or the other and his knee would suddenly “give out.” Riding wasn’t much better. Although he was now second only to Jaccim in skill, he couldn’t ride for long. Tu-Swift wanted to be among those who first encountered the Veritas beyond the twin peaks. He had dreamed of being there when she was reunited. What, he wondered, if she never returned here? He stared at the long and beautiful ebony hair of Cat Eyes and remembered how it had pleasurably whipped his face on that wild flume ride. She turned back and grinned at him; waved; he could see the sunlight making a kind of dark rainbow in her hair. He waved back. Tu-Swift hadn’t noticed Sooz walk up behind him so that when she spoke it startled him. 

“You like her, don’t you?” 

“What?! Oh, Sooz, sorry. I … well, yes. I mean, don’t you?” 

Sooz smiled with her mouth but her eyes remained tight. “Oh, yes, she’s quite smart. It’s been fun working with her — and you — to better understand that game she brought with her from the ROI. Want to play?”

IMG_0673

Indeed, many of the Veritas had made some contribution to understanding the game, but Cat Eyes had been crucial in understanding. True enough, thought Tu-Swift, she was smart, but mainly, she had helped the most because she had seen the game played. Although, as a slave, they had never asked her to participate in the giant settlement of the Z-Lotz, she had in the last few weeks, under the direction of Many Paths, been able to calm her mind, shut her eyes, and systematically “revisit” memories of watching the game played. She had not only seen in her mind’s eye what the throws and moves were; she could also recall what had been said and note the reactions on people’s faces. Playing the game proved to be fun for those Veritas patient enough to learn it including Tu-Swift and Sooz. And playing the game improved the speed with which they could decode the characters written on the many leaves that Eagle Eyes and Lion Tamer had returned with. 

“I would like to play with you, Sssooz. How about another game instead?” 

Sooz blushed. Tu-Swift and Sooz had been working on a secret code for communicating between the two of them. They said the same word, but in different ways. They would change how long they held on to one of the sounds that nature had long ago given the Veritas and that variation would change the meaning. The also said the words with a slightly different tone structure. They had worked together for several weeks on a kind of magic trick and were about to perform it in front of Many Paths and She Who Saves Many Lives. Tu-Swift and Sooz had made a pact not to let anyone else in on the secret quite yet. If they could pull off the trick in front of those two — and Eagle Eyes — then, they would reveal it to everyone. 

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Tu-Swift believed this could prove useful as one of the new weapons of the Veritas. Many Paths had asked Tu-Swift to lead an effort to develop weapons that could be used without anyone noticing, including, if it came to that, the Z-Lotz who might try to kill or capture all of the Veritas. Tu-Swift had not wanted to contemplate being captured again, and the idea that all of the Veritas might be enslaved was horrendous. And yet, he could see the wisdom of preparation for such an eventuality. He reckoned that if he and Sooz could fool Eagle Eyes, Many Paths and She Who Saves Many Lives, they would be able to communicate secretly even if the worst came to be. 

Tu-Swift pulled a piece of birchbark from inside his tunic, walked over to a nearby charred log and broke off a small piece of charcoal. He carefully wrote a few strokes on the birch bark and handed it to Sooz. She read aloud, “Kiss me.”  

close up photo of woman s face

Photo by Charry Jin on Pexels.com

Tu-Swift leaned over and whispered, “If you insist.” He kissed her lightly on the lips. It felt good. He wanted to write her some more when a small and very familiar voice called his name. 

“Hi Tu-Swift! Are you two playing a game? Can I join?” 

It was Day-Nah. Day-Nah was gradually becoming more friendly with all of the Veritas but  still felt most comfortable when he was with Tu-Swift. Usually, Tu-Swift enjoyed his company but he scrunched his face up at the current interruption. I will have other opportunities, I suppose, thought Tu-Swift. He glanced at Sooz who noted the chagrin on the visage of Tu-Swift and chuckled. She smiled at Dah-Nah and said aloud, “Ssssure, Day-Nah, we wouldddd love to have you join in our reading game.” She winked at Tu-Swift with an eye that was hidden from Day-Nah. 

Despite the momentary disappointment, Tu-Swift had to smile at her hidden message which promised much more later. He looked at Day-Nah and smiled at him as well. “We’re practicing making marks and saying them. Here. You put some marks down. Let’s see whether we can say what you meant.” Tu-Swift gently took the birchbark from Sooz, stroking her hand as he did so and surreptitiously smudging what he had just written. He handed the birchbark and piece of charcoal to Day-Nah. He had expected Day-Nah to put down one word. Instead, Day-Nah was making a whole forest of marks. At last he handed the birch bark back to Tu-Swift. 

Tu-Swift shifted position so that he now saw shoulder to shoulder with Sooz. Together they looked and read aloud. “?We go? ?See the whole collection? ?Again?” Tu-Swift sighed and glanced at Sooz. She made the slightest nod. They stood and walked across the cleaning and over to one of the many storerooms of the Veritas. Many Paths had asked for the table acorn-smashing table to be cleared. Several stumps already provide sitting. In the early spring, this table was used for mashing acorns that had been softened and de-bittered over-winter in the swamp. For now, people of the Veritas at various times came in and practiced decoding the marks. Everyone had been instructed to be very careful not to harm the delicate leaves of bark.  

It took a moment for the trio to become adjusted to the dim light. Day-Nah, the youngest, had adjusted the most quickly. He took the first leaf and stared at it. It seemed laid out differently from all the others. This first leaf of thin bark had many large spaces in it while all the other leaves were largely filled from top to bottom. Only a few spaces popped up here and there. Day-Nah began to turn his head this way and that. 

Tu-Swift’s inner eye suddenly showed him that flash of the long dark rainbow hair of Cat Eyes and he sighed. He said aloud, “I hope our searchers are able to find our cousins — there is no map. Jaccim says he knows the way, but I think his horse may know the way better. You know, horses are pretty amazing Sooz. I hope you someday get to ride one. They are big, but there’s no need to be scared.” 

horse near trees

Photo by KML on Pexels.com

Day-Nah muttered, “Map?”  

Tu-Swift shook his head. “What map? They don’t have any map. We’re taking about horses now.” 

Day-Nah, who generally seemed quite attuned to Tu-Swift’s every move, ignored Tu-Swift. He furrowed his brow and said again, “Map?” 

Sooz said kindly, “What map are you talking about, Day-Nah?” 

Day-Nah lifted up the first leaf and said, “This map.” 

Tu-Swift’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “That’s not a map Day-Nah. It’s just the first leaf.” 

Day-Nah ignored them and put the first page up against a nearby pot so that it was nearly vertical at one end of the table. Then, he began arranging the leaves on the table. After about half of them were arranged on the table, Tu-Swift said, “Come Day-Nah, what is this nonsense. I thought we were going to practice. What are you doing?”

Day-Nah said again, “It’s a map.” He continued arranging the leaves carefully. “Now, go over to the door and tell me what you see.”

Tu-Swift sighed. “I won’t be able to see the marks from there. I mean, I will be able to see them but I won’t be able to tell which mark is which.” 

Day-Nah, said with some insistence in his voice, “Try it.” 

Tu-Swift sighed. He tried to be lenient with Day-Nah. As traumatic as it had been for he himself to have been stolen from his tribe, he imagined it had to be even more traumatic for Day-Nah. But now the kid was being annoying. He shook his head and walked over to the door. He stared at the leaves carefully laid out on the table. 

FE330504-4067-401B-9EAA-E0B393F875CE

“Are you happy now, Day-Nah, just as I suspected, I cannot decode a single one of those marks from here. I almost have them memorized but I cannot actually discern them. They are just … just … Turtle in the sky!!” 

Sooz looked at the wide-eyed expression on Tu-Swift’s face. “What are you talking about? Have you both gone crazy?”

Tu-Swift gestured frantically. “Come over here! Come over here, Sooz! Look!” 

Sooz dutifully stood though she shook her head and slowly walked over. “My eyesight’s not any better than yours, Tu-Swift. I don’t even think Eagle Eyes could…” 

And then Sooz saw it too. The small markings could not be discriminated from each other but when the leaves were arranged thus, larger characters stood out. Those characters could be made out. She said them aloud: 

“Life must balance. Freedom and discipline. Work for self and work for tribe. Work for self alone ended the world for Orange Man and then greed ended the world. Now, we rebuild.” 

Tu-Swift swallowed hard. That was the essence of the story contained in the pages. The Orange Man had destroyed a tribe — and himself. But — the world? Everyone knew that too much greed was very strong and very bad medicine. How did Day-Nah know this was a map? With a sudden inspiration, Tu-Swift opened the shutters of one of the storehouse windows and walked outside. He peered in at the leaves arranged on the table. Now, he could see yet another pattern of characters that stunned him into a long silence. 

“Love/Unity makes Life. Greed/Division makes Death.”

shirtless man sitting on a rock

Photo by Darren Lawrence on Pexels.com

—————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

The Pie of Life

24 Monday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Business, capitalism, Democracy, ethics, fairness, life, marketing, socialism

close up of tasty looking baked goods

Photo by Nishant Aneja on Pexels.com

There isn’t just the one pie, of course. A decent bakery will have quite a variety. Pecan pie, warm, with some vanilla ice cream — the warmth and richness of the pie while the creaminess of the melting ice cream! Key Lime pie — sweet, sour, and a hint of exotic bitterness. Chocolate cream pie — is it really more of a candy or a pie? On occasion, I’ve made pies from scratch that are filled with freshly picked blackberries or raspberries. If you’ve never had one fresh out of the oven — barely cool enough to eat — you should really treat yourself. The same goes for apple and cherry pie!

berry blueberries blueberry cake

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Most people in their daily lives are generous. They find it’s more fun to share a wonderful pie than secretly steal every piece for themselves. Most people you know and most people I know realize that in order to get anything significant done, they have to work with other people. And, while I, like many people, love to play competitive games and sports, all of life is not a competitive sport. It isn’t about taking the most pie you can regardless of consequences.  

In a zero-sum game, we imagine that there is only one pie. We have to split it and if you get more, I get less. 

But is everything in life like that? Is anything in life really like that? Even competitive sports like tennis where one person or team wins and the other loses is not truly a zero sum game. There is the benefit of fitness and improving your game and the sheer joy of playing. And most of life is like that — including pies. When we think about how to split the pie, we may want to consider other things such as: 

farm land during sunset

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

How did the pie get there? What is the proper share for the people who grew the wheat? The miller who ground the flour? The truck driver who drove the flour truck to the store? How about the grocery clerk? The bagger? The person who cooked the pie? How about the person who tinkered around until she or he developed an excellent recipe? How about the people who had lived for thousands of years with the cinnamon trees and then had their villages and way of life destroyed so that the cinnamon trees could all be cut down? How about the people who cut the sugar cane? How about the policeman who protects the pie and the fireman who comes to save the bakery if it catches fire? How much should they all get? 

Trying to “determine the fair share” by measuring everything and “calculating” it by formula would be endlessly tedious. The inefficiency and waste and lack of innovation in the former Soviet Union demonstrated the futility of detailed central planning. In many places, society has developed a system of exchange based on money. The idea is to let the market “decide.” 

That system only works when people have approximately equal power and when they have equal justice under the law. When capitalism is combined with unequal justice, it quickly devolves into tyranny. Owners of corporations can get almost all of the pie for themselves and leave only enough crumbs for the workers to barely stay alive and eke out a living. To the extent that workers can be replaced by robots, it isn’t even necessary to give workers crumbs. 

Suppose your young child is deathly ill with pneumonia and needs penicillin. Suppose I am the only pharmacy in town and the roads are closed so that the only way for you to get the necessary penicillin is through me. As the pharmacist, I may have paid all of one thin dime for the medicine you need. But, assuming you love your child as much as most parents do, I can charge virtually any price. Any price. Think of that. I can not only gain your car, your house, and every dime you own. I can also make you an indebted servant. 

baby child close up crying

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Imagine a world in which there are many employers and many workers. Each worker has many possible jobs they could do and every company has a choice among many workers. In such a system, there is some balance of power. An employer who pays low wages or who provides bad working conditions will find themselves without enough workers to get the work done and go out of business. Similarly, a worker who goofs off or insists on very high wages will not be hired. But do we have a balance like that? In a land of many small companies and many small family farms, there is some balance. But today? In many cases, there are a small number of very large corporations who together hold almost all the power. 

If, in addition to the imbalance of workers versus owners, the rich owners have now bought much of the government. Legislation to protect workers and consumers is not even being brought to a vote in the Senate. The Trumputin administration is rolling back food safety regulations, air pollution regulations, water pollution regulations, and healthcare. The justice department and the US intelligence agencies — who used to be filled with nonpartisan experts — are being destroyed from within. Ultimately, it means that every penny of wealth created by workers can be stolen by the richest and most powerful people in the country. Even now, some of the richest corporations and people pay zero taxes.

woman in black dress holding balance scale

Photo by JJ Jordan on Pexels.com

 

Many of the corporations don’t really have competitors. They spend money on lobbying and advertising. They don’t want to spend money on innovation and invention because that changes the nature of the game and so — they could potentially lose their monopoly power. In other words, none of these people are spending much resource on inventing new types of pies. They are protecting the rules that give most of the pie to them. Similarly, companies buy start-ups of potentially disruptive innovations, not in order to integrate inventions into their product lines but to prevent those start-ups from becoming competitors. 

Since most of us in America will soon be paying our tax bill, it might be time to consider this:

If you work two full time jobs in America, you can barely make ends meet and you will pay taxes on your earned income — not a lot — but more than some billionaires. If you are a highly talented writer, actor, consultant, scientist, and you work 80 hours a week, you might earn $200,000 a year and you will pay a lot of taxes on that money. On the other hand, let’s suppose that you inherited $10,000,000 and you invest $4,000,000 in the stock market. You will easily make $200,000 a year on that money while doing nothing for the whole year. You can spend your time watching TV, playing golf, or dressing up lizards. But your tax rate on the $200,000 you got for nothing except being born rich will be less than the talented person who works full time. 

How we divide up the pie makes a big difference. And we are becoming less and less fair about that and — perhaps even worse — we are no longer putting as much resource into growing the pie and inventing new types of pies. Meritocracy is being replaced with cronyism and a “might makes right” mentality. 

close up photo of spider

Photo by Michael Willinger on Pexels.com

While competition is a part of life, it is not the whole of life. Life cooperates with other life all the time and at every level. In our bodies, if we are healthy, the cells of every organ work together to promote life for the whole. In cancer, a few cells decide to suck all the resources into themselves. And — that’s what happening here in America. 

How’s it going where you are?  

Do you invent new kinds of pies? Do you help improve the recipes? Do you get a fair share? Or, do you find yourself fighting all day just to get a very little bit of a very large pie? 

white and brown bird

Photo by Dominika Roseclay on Pexels.com

————————————

Author Page on Amazon

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Wartime Playtime

21 Friday Feb 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Feedback, games, innovation, learning, legends, myths, truth, vicious cycle, war, weapons

Tu-Swift laughed. 

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He had mastered juggling four sacks, or four rocks and had been working all morning on five, but with little success. Sooz shook her head and chuckled good-naturedly. “Don’t give up, Tu-Swift. You’ll get there.” Then, after a pause, she added, “Though you may be an old man with a long white beard.” 

“What? You’ll pay for that!” He began to chase her around the training space. Being lighter, Sooz could turn more quickly. After a few moments, Cat Eyes appeared. Tu-Swift called out, “Help me catch this fox! I can’t turn fast enough!” 

Cat Eyes laughed as well. With a serious note in her voice, she added, “You shouldn’t be trying to turn fast. Let your knee heal, would you?” 

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Tu-Swift’s face darkened for a moment. The ground around them also grew dark as a passing cloud momentarily blocked the sun. He wondered briefly whether he would ever really regain his speed and mobility. Then, just as the ground grew sunny again, so did his face. Time would tell. Meantime…

Just then, he heard the deep voice of Jaccim. He was trying, but largely failing, to speak Veritas. With the help of Cat Eyes, he eventually made himself clear. He had asked why they were playing when there was likely to be a war which they should all be preparing for. They had been “marked” for war. This was no time for juggling nonsense or for laughing. 

Tu-Swift replied, “Hello, Jaccim. I see you brought your own clouds with you.” 

Sooz and Cat Eyes both laughed, though in a friendly way. Tu-Swift continued, “Jaccim, this is the way of the Veritas. Don’t you ever play?” 

Jaccim’s head snapped back and he frowned. He spoke and Cat Eyes translated. “Me? Certainly not! Play is for small children. Not someone your age. All of you should be preparing for war. It is serious.” 

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Many Paths who strode into the training area overheard the last part of the translated conversation. She smiled at all of them and supplemented her Veritas with sign language so that Jaccim would directly understand as much as possible. “You are right. It is serious. This is why we play. We need weapons. New weapons. Weapons that no-one will suspect. That is why  we watch and listen to those whose minds are like water flooding over new plains. They will go ways that we cannot foresee. Nor can others. What shall we care who wins a war if life holds no joy? Every moment now is precious. This is what the Veritas always teach. But now that we may be on the brink of destruction, joy is more important than ever.” 

Jaccim frowned and answered with a mixture of sign language and broken Veritas. “What may be gained by juggling bags or rocks? It is foolish.”

Many Paths smiled at Tu-Swift. She put her hand into a fold of her tunic and brought out a knife and casually tossed it to Tu-Swift. She quickly threw him two more. He easily caught all three and began juggling the three knives. 

Jaccim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could formulate his answer in the tongue of the Veritas, he heard three odd sounds a little like a horse’s whinny and a little like a large rock hitting a tree trunk. He frowned and then his mouth dropped open farther as he saw all three knives sticking out of three nearby tree trunks. Tu-Swift had thrown all three underhand and hard into three targets. Jaccim tried to speak but nothing came out. It wasn’t that he did not know the Veritas words for what he wanted to say. There were no words. Even a sensible language like ROI could not help him. Tu-Swift, meanwhile, calmly walked over and wiggled each of the knives out and handed them back to Many Paths. 

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She smiled at Tu-Swift and continued out of the clearing. As she reached the edge she looked back over her shoulder and said, “Keep up the good work.” 

Jaccim understood her words but not her thinking. She was supposed to be the leader. Yet she spoke of joy and play even though they would likely soon be at war. It made no sense, thought Jaccim. It’s what comes, he thought, of having a woman as leader. We would not have a woman as leader. Not the ROI. Nor would the Z-Lotz. It’s all foolishness. As the Veritas will soon discover for themselves. How had these people defeated the ROI and destroyed his village? 

Tu-Swift called out, “Many Paths! Have you a moment? I wish to show you something else!” 

Many Paths turned back, “I am on my way to meet up with Shadow Walker but I can see what else you have first.” 

Tu-Swift glanced at Sooz and once he had caught her eye, gestured over toward a contraption they had constructed at the end of the training compound. Two vines were suspended from a strong overhanging branch. The vines looped through a thick wooden plank which lay parallel to the ground. Sooz lifted a leg over the plank coquettishly as she smiled at Tu-Swift. He walked around behind her and pushed. He found pushing her surprisingly pleasurable and his cheeks flushed. 

back view photo of woman swinging

Photo by Ahmad Fauzi on Pexels.com

Sooz swung forward and then arced back toward Tu-Swift. Just as she stopped, he pushed her again. Each time, he pushed at just the right time and she swung higher and higher. After a score of pushes, he changed the timing so that he pushed against her momentum and gradually slowed her to a stop. 

Jaccim shook his head. He could see no reason for such frivolity. 

Tu-Swift walked over to Many Paths. “We had been swinging on a single vine and Sooz thought this would work — and it did. But the thing we really wanted to show you is this. He walked over to a small pile of straps made of softened hide. He put a stone in a small, broad but shallow pit in the strap. He motioned for the others to stand behind a nearby tree and peek out. He put both ends of the strap in his hand and began whirling it around his head. He suddenly let go of one end and the stone went flying. It thunked loudly into one of the small, dead pine trunks that had been partly buried in the ground. Many Paths led the others over to see the result. The stone lay buried in the trunk. She nodded. “Nice,” she said. 

Many Paths nodded again. “Yes. This is good. You have an almost endless supply of stones. Imagine these flying into an army from many directions at once. It will be hard to defend against.” Many Paths smiled again at Tu-Swift and set off to meet up with Shadow Walker. 

As Many Paths left the clearing, she ducked under an overhanging branch of Witch Hazel and spoke aloud, “Thank you for your medicine.” She walked down a sweetly curving path toward a small spring. Three pink flowers, Lady Slippers, poked their heads through the dark greenery. She began thinking about the sedation caused by Lady Slippers and recalled what She Who Saves Many Lives had said. “After the sedation wears off, one may be nervous and high strung for a time.” Many Paths had only tried it twice and she experienced exactly what the elder had described both times. It had felt a lot like the way that the roots of Sweet Flag made her feel. But after the effects of Sweet Flag wore off, it made her feel tired and groggy. Odd, she thought. 

She chuckled at the swinging seat that Tu-Swift and Sooz had created though she couldn’t see how that led to the sling weapon he had shown her. It all had to do with the timings of the pushes, she reminded herself. Suddenly, many paths stopped. 

She thought of the swing, the pushes, the Lady Slippers, and the Sweet Flag. What if… what if I pushed with a little Lady Slipper and then… just when it began to wear off, I pulled with some Sweet Flag…a person might become very nervous and want more Lady Slipper… what would happen if they were pushed and pulled higher and higher? I wouldn’t poison the person exactly. Would it tear the body apart? Tearing the people apart with such pushes seemed to be what was indicated in the strange tales scribed into the sheaf of leaves that had been discovered by Lion Slayer and Eagle Eyes. Could that really happen? Was there a way to tear apart the Z-Lotz? Was there a way to tear apart the Veritas? And, if so, how could it be prevented? 

B723FC76-0CC5-4DDB-8A0B-DFADBB1884FD_4_5005_c

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

 

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