The Void

26 Saturday Sep 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, design rationale, essay, health, leadership, management, nature, psychology, Uncategorized, user experience

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

aesthetics, beauty, calm, creativity, death, HCI, human factors, leadership, life, love, mental-health, mindfulness, pattern language, productivity, psychology, the-void, TNOO, UI, usability, user experience, UX, vacuum, void, writing

The Void

While all the previous properties of natural order seem positive, clear, and obvious, this one seems mildly scary. It reminds me of death, somehow. It’s true that individual death is part of the overall reality of life. Yet, “The Void” still seems scary. It’s reminiscent of whirlpools, caverns, the abyss. I suppose some of our tiny distant ancestors may have faced the dark mouth cavity of a large predator — a shark, a cave bear, a saber toothed tiger. And a few of those who were terrified enough to flood their bodies with adrenalin may have escaped to reproduce and pass on the terror of utter darkness genes to their offspring, including me.

In a friendlier interpretation, the void could be thought of as “empty” space, or more accurately, extra space not filled with functional items. From that perspective, The Void promotes rest, relaxation, rebirth, regeneration. Your day should include “The Void” in terms of activity — sleep, certainly, but also times that are unscheduled and restorative. If you are scheduling a day long meeting and every minute is accounted for ahead of time, there is no “margin” for something which catches the passion of participants to spill over into. There is no time for unanticipated contingencies or for people to reflect on what is happening.

Similarly, a space (whether computer memory or physical space) that is completely “taken up” with data or things becomes inflexible. In extreme cases, nothing can be done because there is no room to move things.

When I was a kid, I used to enjoy puzzles that consisted of 15 square pieces and one blank space. The idea was to move the pieces around until the pieces were arranged into a particular numeric sequence (or made a picture). It’s immediately obvious that if there is no space, there is no way to move the pieces and whatever order they are in is the order that they will stay in.

It seems that people who want to control everything want exactly that — no space — no void — no possibility for change. It may be related to the mystery of overworking so many people with long hours despite decades of research showing people are more productive with shorter hours.

In a living human being, there is typically “space” in our respiratory system and our digestive system. To have zero space means we cannot eat and we cannot breathe. We do have spaces within our body — ventricles in the brain, sinuses in the head, and — crucially — females have a place that can accommodate the creation of a new life within.

A hive, or a garden, or a city may indeed be crowded, but if it literally has zero space, it dies, just as we would. The void allows flow — in the case of the individual human body, space allows for the flow of food and the flow of air.

A science that has no void, no space, has no flexibility. It is no longer science but dogma.

A budget with no space, no void, means every penny has been pre-assigned and this is not an effective way to budget.

Games typically have space (Go, Chess, Checkers, Monopoly) as do sports (Tennis, Baseball, Soccer, Basketball). Play often consist of using, changing, and manipulating space. The baseball pitcher tries to throw the ball so that it crosses through spaces where the hitter cannot easily hit it well. The hitter tried to hit the ball where the fielders cannot reach the ball. The tennis player tries to “build a point” by creating more space; e.g., by pulling their opponent progressively wider so that a shot can be hit into such a large space that it cannot be reached at all. In most games and sports, the amount of empty space, particularly at the beginning of play is relatively large. In chess, as in American football, play begins with a large space between the teams. In many games, there are special terms for spaces. A “Luft” in chess is a place for your King to go if attacked on the back rank by a queen or rook. In American football, the quarterback throws passes from the “pocket” which is supposed to protect them from tacklers.

Under Umbrage, everything living and loving was smothered by a rule, or at least she wished it were.

To me, “The Void” connotes more than space, however. “The Void” seems to refer to a relatively large, concentrated space. In music, for example, without any space, there is just a long, annoying noise. But “The Void” isn’t just the space between notes. It seems as though it must be a significant silence such as after the tuning and before the first note is played or the space between movements in a symphony.

Of course, we can contemplate things at different scales. If we see Alternating Repetition from a distance that allows us to see the alternating repetition, we might see gaps as spaces, but not as examples of “The Void.” If we moved our point of view so that only one such gap were visible, it might become an example of “The Void” at that closer-in scale.

Most of our everyday reality is physically made up of empty space. Every atom is more than 99.999 % empty space. At that scale, it’s mostly void or at least mostly space. And, at the other extreme, although it may seem that space is crowded when you see the Starship Enterprise go through the universe at “Warp 9” that’s an illusion to make it more interesting. Most of the universe (and our solar system) is empty space. The sun which is by far the largest object in our solar system has a diameter of 865,000 miles. That’s big! But the nearest planet, Mercury, is 40 million miles away. And, that planet is the only thing in such a close orbit.

Once I was driving with my family from San Francisco to Salt Lake City. Around 3 am, in the absolute middle of nowhere with no lights and no moon, I stopped the car and ran a quarter mile from the road into the desert to look up at the stars. It doesn’t “look” empty of course. Far from it. Yet the sheer blackness of the background and the vastness of it made it seem like a true void. In fact, because of contrast with the sharp and sparkling stars, the vast void was made into even more of a vast void.

An atrium, a central courtyard, a reflecting pool — can these be voids that strengthen the center?

If we look at a void, does that produce a different aesthetic feeling from when we are in a void that surrounds us? If you and your family or friends or tribe huddle around a campfire at night, the fire is a center. You can see the faces of people in the firelight. But you are aware that each of you knows that surrounding your little group is darkness. Sometimes, in movies, someone will remark, “Well, it’s quiet.” To which, the proper response is, “Yeah. Too quiet!” When the frogs and crickets stop making noise, the heaviness of the silence becomes oppressive. It might mean that large predators are about, each with their own maw of void. Being in a large space that has no perceptible features is awe-inspiring or even fear-inspiring. Looking at a large space that is situated in the context of a pattern may echo that feeling slightly, but to me, it feels very different.

The same tune can be played on a piccolo or a base vile.

When it comes to user experience, what comes to mind for me is the empty page or the empty canvas or the empty spreadsheet. These are large unfilled spaces. To compose, whatever the medium, requires of us a kind of courage. We must “enter” the empty space. In order to write, we must also allow for empty space within us. As I write, I find that there is always a rhythm of “describing” things that have “come up” for explication and then pausing — staring as it were into the blackness, the void, of my own consciousness. I allow things to arise from that inner void and show themselves. I don’t know what it will be.

I think that process (and not wanting it disrupted) is one reason that I, like so many others, found “Clippy” to be so annoying. Whenever I was allowing for the void to reveal to me what I wanted to say, “Clippy” would imagine I was stuck and offer a suggestion (invariably irrelevant).

Perhaps you or one of your kids has played “8-ball.” You ask it a question then you shake it a little and an answer “appears” in a little window. The most enthralling time is that space between when you ask the question and the answer appears. Of course, it’s fun thinking of the questions and interpreting the answers, but the most dramatic part is waiting for the answer to appear. In that moment, you may suddenly realize what answer you want to appear.

If an application is to support any kind of creative activity, it should not “rush” the user and it should provide the user empty space in which to create. That emptiness can be intimidating, but I still think it’s necessary.

My desktop has many icons, tool bars, and windows. The only true void is the blank part of the writing pane in Pages. Visually, since the blank part of the page is white, it doesn’t seem much like a void. There is enough space between the icons and menu items to make them legible, but there is no “void” there. Visually, the only thing that really strikes me as a void is the totally black rounded rectangle beside the color sphere in the Format window. It’s black because that is the color of the text I’m writing in. Its function is nothing like that of an actual void.

The void may symbolize death, but it also symbolizes life. It is the happening place. It is the dance floor. It is the game board. It is the playing field. It is waiting for the curtain to rise. It is the movie theater when the lights go out but the movie has not begun. It is also the movie theater when the credits have done rolling but before the house lights have come up. If it is death, it is also rebirth. If it is birth, it is also the end.

As every moment of our existence and our attention becomes evermore commoditized and sold to the highest bidder, there is ever more pressure to eliminate the “wasted space” inherent in the void.

Running into the ocean; diving into a pool; deciding to have a child; moving; divorcing; falling in love; losing a loved one; starting a composition; beginning a design — these are moments when we brush up against the void or enter it or avoid it or incorporate it into ourselves. We like to fool ourselves that there is some process or routine or formula or piece of software that can take all the uncertainty out of these transitions into the unknown.

That’s all illusion. It’s the very nature of life itself — that dance on the razor edge between chaos and repetition — to embrace the void. We try always to “avoid” The Void.

Nature doesn’t “abhor a vacuum.” Nature is mostly vacuum.

But often, we abhor a vacuum. Our productivity tools are geared toward reducing “The Void” as much as possible. Children are shuttled from one high intensity activity to another to ensure that when they apply to college, there will be no gaps or voids in their resume. Every box should be checked. Then, they will get into a college–one which will ensure that they will get a high-paying job that will enable to them to work their entire lives so that there will be no uncertainty.

I am also a product of that “Avoid The Void” culture, so I find it hard to imagine what it would mean to design a tool or UI or app that embraced and encouraged The Void. There are some specific mobile apps that support meditation or listening to music or breathing. What of composition though? Whether it is programming, writing, drawing, or creating a business plan, is there a place for The Void to be supported? How would you encourage it? What visual elements or other sensory elements could be used to support it? How would you measure how well you did?

Or, is it easier to avoid the whole topic?

—————————————————-

The sound of one hand clasping

Take a while or three

The jewels of November

The lost sapphire

Author Page on Amazon

The Winning Weekend Warrior focuses on the mental game for all sports using examples from tennis, golf, baseball, and other sports. It covers self-talk, imagery, mental practice, strategy, tactics, & sportsmanship. http://tinyurl.com/ng2heq3

Turing’s Nightmares explores the implications and ethics of Artificial Intelligence through fictional short stories. http://tinyurl.com/hz6dg2d

Fit in Bits shows many ways to put more fun, variety, & exercise into daily chores and habits to help with strength, flexibility, fitness, and balance. http://tinyurl.com/h6c7fce

Tales from an American Childhood recounts early experiences mainly in the American Midwest in the 1950’s and relates them to contemporary issues and events. https://tinyurl.com/y9ajvz9j

Dream Planet. Where do you run when the whole world is crumbling under the weight of human folly? When the lethal Conformers invade 22nd century Pittsburgh, escape becomes the top priority for lovebird scavengers Alex and Eva.

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/dream-planet-david-thomas/1148566558

6. Good Shape

16 Wednesday Sep 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, design rationale, HCI, leadership, management, nature, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, user experience

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

art, beauty, creativity, Design, flowers, Good shape, HCI, painting, photography, UX, writing

6. Good Shape.

Good Shape. Positive Space. These seem to be highly related concepts. Most of the pictures I used as illustrations of Positive Space could equally well illustrate Good Shape. A Positive Space is often composed of multiple good shapes arranged in a “balanced way.”

In order to illustrate “Good Shape,” I decided to take some pictures to illustrate “Bad Shape.” Since I have surrounded myself mainly with nature or with artifacts that were intentionally designed to be aesthetically pleasing, it turned out to be more difficult than I imagined at first. The other issue is that when I take photographs, I (like most people) “frame” the picture so that “Good Shape” is clear. I began to intentionally brake that habitual way of framing with pictures of flowers that overlap. The natural beauty of flowers is so rich that, to me, even a quasi-random framing still results in a beautiful picture.

This turns out not to be the case with artifacts however.

Although some of the elements of this seem to have “Good Shape,” the overall composition lacks a coherent center. It seems to me to be an artificial “kludge” of colors, textures, and shapes and there is no overall “Good Shape.”

By re-arranging the elements into this form (above), to me, it seems to get closer to “Good Shape” but the purple “tennis ball” seems ill-proportioned and out of place. In “real tennis” there is a physical reason for the ball to be fuzzy but here, the fuzziness of the ball seems added on and arbitrary.

Here too (above), the overall composition lacks “Good Shape.” The large semi-random dark blob in the middle has no real “Center.” The elements around the edges do not cohere or reflect off of each other. None of the elements around the edges are complete enough to have “Good Shape” except possibly the links of the small chain.

Here is another example of quasi-random elements brought together into a single picture. Though to me, both the wood and the stone are in and of themselves beautiful, there is nothing about the composition that integrates into a whole. There is no center, no echoes, no alternating repetition, no levels of scale, and despite the nice texture of the stone and wood, the overall effect, to me, is lacking in “Natural Order” and in beauty.

By way of contrast, the flower here seems to have a good overall shape reinforced by a Strong Center, Alternating Repetition, and each of the petals themselves has Good Shape. Around the flower, to me, is a “Positive Space.” Note that one of the petals seems slightly out of place. To me, however, this does not spoil the “Good Shape.”

The same can be said of these flowers.

It isn’t necessary to have overall “simplicity” in order to have “Good Shape.” These flowers are not “simple” in shape, but they still have “Good Shape.”

The bird on a branch shown above seems to me to have “Good Shape” even though it is (in outline) lacking symmetry. Though lacking symmetry in profile, the shape strikes me as “balanced.” I don’t perceive the bird as having to exert a lot of energy to keep from “falling off the branch.” The bird’s shape, like the shapes of most animals and plants is the result of 4.5 billion years of evolutionary history.

Many people view some creatures as “enemies” and therefore “creepy” or “yucky” or perhaps even as dangerous. If you can set that aside and simply look though, I think you can see that “Good Shape” characterizes all sorts of animals (as well as plants).

At a more abstract level, it even seems that natural animal behavior often shows beauty. That also seems characteristic of skilled human behavior. The Olympics show plenty of examples. It is hard to imagine an “ugly” baseball swing resulting in a home run. The runners, jumpers, throwers, gymnasts, tennis players, and so on produce “Good Shape” in three spatial dimensions and one temporal dimension.

I play tennis several times a week. I’m not averse to winning a point even if the ball hits my frame, skids off to the net cord and drops over for a winner. But — I never feel as pleased by such outsized luck as when I hit a good shot that results from proper choice, preparation, and execution (and a history of practice and reflection). I never think of a lucky mis-hit as “beautiful.”

The concept of “Good Shape” even applies to more complex human organizations and endeavors. Racism, for instance, to me is truly ugly. It is not based on truth, but on a kludge of lies masquerading as truth. White Supremacy for instance, basically says, “We’re white! That makes us superior! In fact, we’re so superior, that we insist every aspect of our society be tilted so we can be guaranteed a win!”

Huh?

Bad logic is never beautiful.

The “Good Shape” exhibited by most plants and animals reflects both a long evolutionary balance of forces (phylogeny) and the development of a particular organism (ontogeny). When biology goes awry, as in cancer, the result is not beauty. The “logic” of cancer is that billions of years of evolution that allows our bodies to work harmoniously is put aside for short-sighted egotism. A random cell says, in effect, “I’m no longer going to do my part for the body as a whole. Instead, I’m going to grab all I can for myself and grow in an unrestricted way!”

Such a cell, by making that decision, signs its own death warrant. Either the body destroys the cancer and therefore the cancer dies — or, the cancer prevails and in that case it destroys the life of the organism it was supposed to be a part of — and then it dies anyway! It’s an “ugly” decision both because it is disproportionate and because it is illogical. It aims to be self-serving, but it is not even self-serving. It guarantees its own death and kills more life along the way.

It’s the same, to me, with any dysfunctional human organization. If democracy is perverted by some people demanding that decisions be made so that they can have their way regardless of how it impacts the overall tree of life and the overall health of a city, state, or nation, it lacks “Good Shape” and instead becomes a distorted kludge lacking symmetry, lacking balance, lacking life. It is no accident that “Gerrymandered” districts do not have “Good Shape.”

In extreme cases, not surprisingly, dictatorships have resulted in a war on truth, beauty, and life itself. It’s no “accident” that Hitler, Stalin, and Mao were each responsible for millions of human deaths. Their activities also show utter disregard for the beauty of the natural environment and the plants and animals of the planet.

When it comes to User Experience, the most obvious way to apply “Good Shape” is to the visual elements of the interface — icons, windows, menus, tool bars etc. However, I think it also applies to the design process. Are the needs of all stakeholders taken into consideration?

Do the various disciplines involved in design respect each other? Do people tell the truth and show trust? Does the company treat its users with respect and tell the truth in its various communications?

If a company provides “free games” or “free services” that are purportedly for entertainment or education but the real purpose is to gather data to sell to advertisers or foreign powers trying to use the data to destroy democracy, it would seem to me that business model itself — the raison d’êtrefor the entire project is an “ugly shape” regardless of how pretty the icons are.

What do you think? Do the concepts of natural beauty apply to the design of organizations and even governments?

—————————————

Christopher Alexander – Fundamental Property 6: Good Shape

Cancer always loses in the end

Fascism Leads to Chaos

Who Speaks for Wolf?

Voter Suppression is Life Suppression

Imagine All the People

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

The Dance of Billions

About Writing

26 Wednesday Aug 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, fiction, pets, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

book-review, books, creativity, dog, dogs, fiction, internationaldogday, novel, pets, psychology, writing

Hello!

I’ve been reflecting on “International Dog Day” and on a year-long course on novel writing I took a couple years ago. To me, writing a full-length novel is more difficult than writing a Ph.D. dissertation. Writing non-fiction such as a dissertation requires research, discipline, organization, and being willing to work hard.

Writing a novel requires all of those but it also requires keeping track of the implications of many little decisions. It is not only a cognitive strain but often an emotional one as well. It’s a never-ending series of choices. Science is often, but not always, a series of choices where there is an agreed upon better answer. Even when there isn’t agreement, there are a much smaller number of choices.

To me, writing non-fiction is like taking a long trip on existing roads. You may certainly face unanticipated difficulties such as construction zones, flat tires and bad weather.

Writing fiction is more like bushwhacking. No-one has ever trod (or will ever trod) your exact path. You may learn something by discovering or following the paths of previous writers. You might, for instance, discover that some writers go over logs that lie across their intended path. Others, may crawl under. Still others might go around the fallen log. Others might choose to back-track until another path is found. What should you do?

It depends.

And, that’s the nature of fiction. It all depends. It depends on what else happens in the book. How you choose to construct and describe one character depends on the others. Even what you name them depends on the other names. What happens in character development interacts with the plot. The plot interacts with the landscape and the mood. The mood depends on the tempo. The tempo, if it’s dialog, must be consistent with the character who’s doing the talking.

Our dog Sadie and I have been co-creating and co-evolving games from the days she first came to live with us. We often played variants of “fetch.” Here’s how one worked. One of us (most often Sadie) finds a squeaky ball. At some point, I get a squeaky ball from somewhere in the garden and say, “Get up on the deck! I’m going to throw the ball on the deck.”

Now matter where she is when she hears that, she sprints to the deck and awaits my throw. She sprints with spirit! I love to watch her run, not only for her grace and speed but even more so, for the whole-heartedness with which she runs every single time. I throw the ball up and she catches it in the air more than half the time. Even when she misses, she’ll scramble after it and proudly perch on the spot on the deck where I can see that she’s caught the ball. After elaborate and genuine praise, she sprints down the stairs to the lawn near me. Then, she will lie down with the squeaky ball in her mouth. After a time, she’ll move the ball away from her some distance. I walk over casually, as though I am not trying to “steal” the ball from her. When I get close to the ball, she quickly re-grabs it. After she’s had a few “successes” she will start hanging out farther and farther away from the ball. At some point, I’ll grab the ball and announce, “I’ve got it!” At that point, she again sprints up the stairs to go the deck where I will throw the ball up to her.

The part of this scenario that I think is most like writing the fiction is the part where Sadie is judging how far away the ball should be from her buzz-fast jaws. If it’s too close, I won’t even try for it. If it’s too far away, I’ll immediately grab the ball. Similarly, as an author, I want to keep the reader interested. If my writing is too predictable, it might be clear, but it will be uninspiring and dull. The reader will quit before they get to the end of the story. On the other hand, if I write too far from the reader’s expectations, they will quit because they cannot grab the threads of the narrative.

To me, the benefits of co-creating with Sadie (rather than “training her” to play the game in a particular and predetermined way) include that I can learn a lot by observing her. Another benefit is that it keeps both of our minds more flexible and more engaged (just as does good literature). Of course, there are two of us in this exercise and that is also true in the reading of fiction. Every author, including me, will make miscalculations about how far to stray from expectations. But whether you can follow across those miscalculations is not only a measure of my skill as a writer but is also a measure of your skill as a reader.

In the past, I’ve self-published my books on Amazon. These are mostly non-fiction, but one of them is a collection of fictional short stories. Next time, I may try traditional agent/publishing. I am also thinking of putting together several more books, using the blog posts here as the seeds.

After a year long writing course, the single most important piece of advice I can give is:

“Get a dog.”

Don’t get me wrong. We have six cats and we love them dearly. The cats are smart, and I can certainly empathize with the cats. But their ability to empathize with me is either very limited or, as I suspect is more likely, they really don’t give a damn. On the other hand, Sadie is a pleasure to co-create with because she intuitively “gets” cooperation and collaboration. We accommodate each other and neither of us has any idea how the game will evolve.

The games with Sadie became more complex when we got a second dog, Bailey. Bailey is also an excellent ball player. But, unlike Sadie, Bailey almost always prefers to race after the ball, bring it back to me panting and lay the ball by my feet for an instant replay. That works quite well when I am playing only with Bailey.

The complexity arises when I try to play with Sadie and Bailey at the same time. Sadie wants to play the game of bringing the ball near me, but if she drops it near me, Bailey swoops in and grabs the ball before I can play the threshold game with Sadie. The easiest way is to deal with this is to play ball with them separately. Sometimes, I do.

My wife and I have also taken great pains to try to teach Bailey to take turns. Bailey is a smart dog and he is quite good about taking turns when it comes to eating, say, or going out to pee. But—when it comes to ball-chasing, it seems nearly impossible for him to consistently “take turns.” He’s much more likely to grab the ball, even if it means stealing it out of Sadie’s mouth.

One invention we’ve come up with is the “Three Balls on the Roof” throw. It works like this. I gather up three balls and throw all three up on the roof at the same time. We have a tiled Mediterranean roof and the balls bounce around unpredictably before coming down. This generally allows each dog to catch at least one. After they catch the ball, they both try to “touch” the other two balls. In the case of Bailey, this often entails stealing the one that Sadie caught. That has happened so many times, that generally, Sadie drops the ball she caught before Bailey gets a chance to “steal it” out of her mouth.

This “compromise” is not ideal. It reminds me though of another difficulty in writing a novel. I experience this myself, but I see evidence for the same difficult for many other writers. Here’s the essence of the dilemma. I like my hero(s). I care about them. I like to see them succeed. But…

For maximum reader engagement, the main character(s) must go through hell. I know many ways to put them there, but it’s painful to do so. One solution is to write about villains. I don’t mind if they go through hell.

Another solution is to use the “Three Ball Trick.” In this trick, I put the hero in a situation that looks dire, even impossible. But before resolving that puzzle, I put them (or a different hero) into yet another dire situation. Hopefully, the reader is already imagining that the hero is likely going to die or at least be permanently injured, possibly in two different ways. Before either of those two sticky situations gets unstuck, one of the main characters gets into yet another jam. And they must get into this jam before the other two jams are resolved.

Does this comport with your intuition as well? Compare two structures:

Hero encounters nasty situation one. (E.g., loses job).
Hero encounters nasty situation two (E.g., loses lover).

Hero encounters nasty situation three (E.g., gets arrested for a crime).

Hero “solves” situation one. (E.g., inherits money).

However, the apparent solution leads to further complication (makes them look guiltier in the crime they’ve been arrested for).

By contrast, we could imagine:

Hero encounters nasty situation one and solves it.
Hero encounters nasty situation two and solves it.
Hero encounters nasty situation three and solves it.

The latter structure is like throwing three balls on the roof, but one at a time. What would happen? My prediction is that Bailey would steal every ball that Sadie caught and she would soon stop playing.

In writing, the result would be that I would be more “comfortable” because my hero would never “hang out” in mortal danger. But the reader would not experience the joy of apparent repeated resurrection.

Author page on Amazon

Autobiography and Essays

Scenarios about AI

How to work more fun and exercise into daily chores

Sports Psychology

The Story of Stories

The First Ring of Empathy

Travels with Sadie: Photoessays Inspired by Walks with Sadie

The Walkabout Diaries: Photoessays Inspired by Parks, Gardens, and Wilderness

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

“The Psychology of Design”

22 Wednesday Jul 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, design rationale, HCI, management, politics, psychology, science, Uncategorized, user experience

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

AI, creativity, Design, education, HCI, human factors, IBM, leadership, research, technology, UX

“The Psychology of Design”

I worked at IBM, all told, about 28 years. During that time, management put increasing pressure on us to make our work “relevant” to the business. In fact, the pressure was always there, even from the beginning. Over the years, however, we were “encouraged” to shorten evermore the time gap between doing the research and having the results of that research impact the bottom line. This was not an IBM-only phenomenon.

I was a researcher, not a politician, but it seemed to me that at the same time researchers in industrial labs were put under pressure to produce results that could be seen in terms of share price (and therefore payouts to executives in terms of stock options), academia was also experiencing more and more pressure to publish more studies more quickly — and to make sure “intellectual property” was protected to make sure the university could monetize your work. This was about the same time that, at least in America, increasing productivity and the wealth that sprung from that increased productivity stopped being shared between the workers and the owners.

In the late 1970’s, the “Behavioral Sciences” group at IBM Research began to study the “psychology of design.” For the first few months, this was an extremely pleasurable & productive group, due mainly to my colleagues. Over the next few blogs, I’ll focus on some specific techniques and methods that you may find useful in your own work.

In this short recounting though, I want to focus instead on some broader issues relevant to “technology transfer”, “leadership” and “management.” Even if you are or aspire to be an expert in UX or HCI or design, I assure you that these broader issues will impact you, your work and your career. I wouldn’t suggest becoming obsessed with them, but being aware of their potential impact could help you in your own work and career.

It is telling that, almost invariably, whenever I told someone inside IBM (or, for that matter, outside IBM) that I was studying the “psychology of design,” people responded by asking, “the design of what?” So, I would explain that we were interested in the generic processes of design and how to improve them. I would explain that we were interested in understanding, predicting, and controlling these processes to enable them to be more effective. I would explain that we could apply these findings to any kind of design: software design, hardware design, organizational design, and (see last post about IBM) communication design. I would explain that design was a quintessentially human activity. I would also explain that design was an incredibly leveraged activity to improve.

Looking back on it, I still think all these things are true. I also see that I missed the “signal” people were giving me that, while I thought of design as something that could be studied as a process, that most people did not think of it that way. To them, it was never the “psychology of design,” but only the design of something.

Don’t get me wrong. I agree that somewhat different skills are involved in designing a great advertising campaign, a great building, and a great application. I agree that different communities of practice treat various common issues differently. I still think it’s worth studying commonalities across domains. For one thing, we may find an excellent way of generating ideas, say, that the advertising community of practice uses that neither architects nor applications developers had ever tried. Or, vice versa.

My own academic background was in “Experimental Psychology.” We were forever doing experiments that we believed were about psychological processes that were thought to be invariant regardless of the domain. It was an axiom of our whole enterprise that studying memory for any one thing also shed light on how we remember every other thing. Similar studies looked at decision making or problem solving or multi-tasking. We came to understand that there were some interesting exceptions to being able to separate content from process. For instance, it is much easier to multi-task a spatial task and a verbal task than it is to multi-task two independent spatial tasks or two independent verbal tasks.

In our Behavioral Sciences lab, we used a spectrum of techniques to study “design” ranging from laboratory studies of toy problems, to observing people doing real-world design problems while thinking aloud. After about 3-4 months of very productive work, we were told that we had to make our work relevant to software development. That one domain should be the focus of our work. We were told that this command came from higher-ups in IBM. That might have been true, or perhaps partly true.

It might also be relevant that someone in our management chain might have been the recipient of a grant from ONR which was specifically focused on software development. So far as I can tell, nothing had been done on that grant. So, our past, present, and future work could have been co-opted to be “results” done under the auspices of the ONR grant.

In any case, regardless of the “reasons,” the group began to focus specifically on software design. In one study, we used IBM software experts as subjects. Each person was given information that was geared toward a specific transformation that occurred in software development. One person was presented with the description of a “situation” that included a number of “issues” and they were asked to write a requirements document. In real life, I would hope that this would be done in a dialogue (and, indeed, in other studies, we recorded such dialogues). Absent such dialogues, what we found was that different software experts — all from IBM research — and all given the same documentation about a set of problems generated vastly different problem statements and overall approaches.

In other parts of the study, other experts were variously given requirements documents and asked to do an overall, high level system design, or given a high level design and asked to design an algorithm, or given an algorithm and asked to code a section. There was always diversity but the initial phases showed the greatest diversity of behavior. The initial stage is also the one that can cause the most expensive errors. If you begin with a faulty set of requirements — a misreading about how to even go about the problem — then, the overall project is almost certain to incur schedule slip, cost overruns, or outright failure.

While the vital importance of the initial stages of design is true in software development, I would argue that it is likely also true for advertising campaigns, building designs — and even true for the design of research programs. We designed our research agenda under the assumption that we had a long time; that we were studying design processes independently of specific communities of practice or the nature of the problems people were attempting to address. We assumed that there was no “hidden agenda.” Although we believed we would eventually need to show some relevance to IBM business, we had no idea, when we began, that only relevance to software design would be “counted.”

—————-

Some of our studies on the “Psychology of Design.”

Carroll, J. and Thomas, J.C. (1982). Metaphor and the cognitive representation of computer systems. IEEE Transactions on Man, Systems, and Cybernetics., SMC-12 (2), pp. 107-116.

Thomas, J.C. and Carroll, J. (1981). Human factors in communication. IBM Systems Journal, 20 (2), pp. 237-263.

Thomas, J.C. (1980). The computer as an active communication medium. Invited paper, Association for Computational Linguistics, Philadelphia, June 1980. Proceedings of the 18th Annual Meeting of the Association for Computational Linguistics., pp. 83-86.

Malhotra, A., Thomas, J.C. and Miller, L. (1980). Cognitive processes in design. International Journal of Man-Machine Studies, 12, pp. 119-140.

Carroll, J., Thomas, J.C. and Malhotra, A. (1980). Presentation and representation in design problem solving. British Journal of Psychology/,71 (1), pp. 143-155.

Carroll, J., Thomas, J.C. and Malhotra, A. (1979). A clinical-experimental analysis of design problem solving. Design Studies, 1 (2), pp. 84-92.

Thomas, J.C. (1978). A design-interpretation analysis of natural English. International Journal of Man-Machine Studies, 10, pp. 651-668.

Thomas, J.C. and Carroll, J. (1978). The psychological study of design. Design Studies, 1 (1), pp. 5-11.

Miller, L.A. and Thomas, J.C. (1977). Behavioral issues in the use of interactive systems: Part I. General issues. International Journal of Man-Machine Studies, 9 (5), pp. 509-536.

——————————

Blog posts about the importance of solving the “right” problem.

The Doorbell’s Ringing. Can you get it?

https://petersironwood.com/2021/01/13/reframing-the-problem-paperwork-working-paper/

Problem Framing. Good Point.

https://petersironwood.com/2021/01/16/i-say-hello-you-say-what-city-please/

Problem formulation: Who knows what.

How to frame your own hamster wheel.

The slow seeming snapping turtle.

Author Page on Amazon.

Wartime Playtime

14 Thursday May 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

books, creativity, empathy, Feedback, fiction, games, innovation, joy, learning, legends, life, myths, politics, short story, truth, Veritas, vicious cycle, war, weapons, writing

BDAD5D7D-3543-4705-9A06-7CD7659129E4

Tu-Swift laughed.

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?”

1A559AF5-59A6-4D1E-929D-B09054B43A89

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. And certainly not someone my age. All of you should preparing for war. It is deadly serious.”

86A389C7-4CD7-42E3-ABFA-A555A5BB24CB

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.

6A476221-BDAD-4FC1-97A4-531C91BE04AC

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 who play 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.

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

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Come Back to the Light Side

Life is a Dance

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

The Dance of Billions

Imagine All the People

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

Resonance

Tu-Swift Dreams of Drums

03 Friday Apr 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, creativity, politics, Uncategorized, Veritas

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

AI, creativity, ethics, fiction, language, leadership, legends, myths, philology, psychology, reading, stories, trust, Veritas, writing

Tu-Swift Dreams of Drums.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Tu-Swift’s lids felt heavy. As they fluttered shut, the strange markings on the hides swam before his eyes. In the distance, he could hear drumming. Drumming. Very pleasant. Very nice. Tu-Swift remembered hearing the drumming as She Who Saves Many Lives intoned a long poem for all of the people. It was a poem about animals, and people, and language. Tu-Swift, like all the Veritas, had memorized it at an early age. He knew the prose version as well. As She Who Saves Many Lives sung the ancient song, one of the braves, Stone Chipper, used sign language to portray the same story. Perhaps from working with stone, he looked like stone. The muscles of his chest, shoulders and arms writhed as he moved from position to position. It had been hard for Tu-Swift to follow as a child.

Now, in his half-dream state, Tu-Swift could slow the playing of the memory and the memory became the dream. He could see the positions that Stone Chipper used. Then, an odd thing happened (as they are wont to do in dreams). The arms of Stone Chipper became sticks. And every time that he moved them into a new position, he heard the voice of She Who Saves Many Lives saying the sounds of the animals.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

The sounds. Did we steal them? Did we borrow them? How can we steal them? The snake still hisses. The owl still hoots. The bee still buzzes. And before his internal eyes, Tu-Swift saw the snake and the owl and a swarm of buzzing bees all dancing and playing together. Now, they lined up and came toward him. First, the snake flew toward his face hissing – ‘sssssss.’ Just as it reached him, it opened its mouth, sharp fangs, forked tongue, and then the snake veered off. The hoot owl hooted and stretched for Tu-Swift, talons first. The hooting sound became louder and louder: ‘ooooOOOO OOOO!’ But the owl also caromed away. Now, the swarm of bees zipped toward him buzzing all the while. Suddenly, one of the girls Tu-Swift fancied from home, Sooz, appeared before him smiling. Except now she had cat eyes. She said her name, ‘Sooz’, and nodded to him just as she had when they first met. Now, she did something odd. She waved her right arm into the crook of her left elbow making the sign for snake; then, she quickly turned her hands outward making them into the claws that signified owl and then her fingertips all moved nervously like a swarm of buzzing bees. Now, she flew away from him and as she disappeared into a bright green cloud, she said, “Remember me. Remember Sooz.”

Tu-Swift muttered in his sleep, “I will Sooz. I will.”

Shadow Walker chuckled to himself. He looked down to see the fluttering eyes of Tu-Swift who obviously walked now in the shadow world of dreams. He recalled some of the times that Many Paths and Shadow Walker had spoken of each other’s dreams. He had been dreaming of her, in fact, when something inside him told him it was time for him to keep watch and let Tu-Swift sleep.

Shadow Walker again turned his thought to the girl with the eyes like a cat. She seemed to be telling the truth even though her tale was amazing, if true. Still, she was definitely holding something back. There was something important that she had not yet told them, but he wasn’t sure what it was. Possibly, she herself had done something against the ways of the Veritas. Although…how could she help it if she were stolen as a child?

Shadow Walker now heard Tu-Swift muttering again, first about drumming, and Cat Eyes, and language. Like all dream mutterings, it made little sense. He would ask him about it upon wakening. Shadow Walker had found that dreams were easily recalled if they were remembered upon waking but seldom recalled if one began the chores of the day.

Meanwhile, quite oblivious to Shadow Walker, Tu-Swift now found himself dreaming of sitting astride a horse, a giant golden horse. He held ropes in his hands and he could control the horse via these ropes. Jaccim Nohan trotted alongside on another horse and spoke to him in Veritas. They now seemed friends, but that was not surprising in the dream world. Jaccim’s body turned into sticks of firewood, but he continued to talk…although…it wasn’t exactly talking. He was using his stick limbs to form sign language. Yet, Tu-Swift heard it as words spoken in the voice of Jaccim but the words were not ROI but Veritas. He listened to the words and kicked the giant horse firmly but not cruelly and lightly whipped the reins. The giant horse took off galloping up a hill, leapt up into the sky and Tu-Swift was flying atop his horse — sailing through the sky effortlessly though the steady drumming hooves continued even louder than before.

C3DFBFC1-D938-40E4-861D-15FD4F0FEA65

Now, Tu-Swift had fallen off his horse into a pit of giant snakes – squeeze snakes – who were going to squeeze him to death. Where was his horse? He tried to slide the snakes off of his arms but they wouldn’t go. They could speak his name! “Tu-Swift! Tu-Swift! Wake up!”

Tu-Swift shook his head and came awake. Shadow Walker was shaking him. “Wake up! Wake up! War drums. We must go. Now. Wake up!”

“What? Whose war drums?” Tu-Swift tried to focus but it was difficult.

Shadow Walker took Tu-Swift’s head in his hands and stared into his vacant eyes. “I don’t know. But it isn’t Veritas! Wake! We must go!”

At last, Tu-Swift returned to this world and he saw Shadow Walker quickly putting their things together for a quick journey. “What of Cat Eyes and the others?”

Shadow Walker sighed. “I think we may have to leave them here. Or at least Jaccim. He is too hurt to travel quickly.”

Photo by David Dibert on Pexels.com

———————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Sci-Fi Scenarios about the Future of AI

Pattern Language for Teamwork and Cooperation: Overview

A Story of Early Work in Human Computer Interaction

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Second Book

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

What About the Butter Dish?

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Poker Chip

The Ailing King of Agitate

Roar, Ocean, Roar

Imagine All the People…

The Dance of Billions

An Open Sore From Hell

The Doors of Mystery

21 Saturday Mar 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

art, creativity, fantasy, fiction, innovation, leadership, legends, myths, politics, stories, truth, Veritas, writing

“What an amazing sunset,” Fleet-of-Foot said to no-one in particular. His companions, Hudah Salah, Easy Tears, and Day Nah sat close by.

70E2D770-2B7A-4D5D-B322-D499FD6785AC

Easy Tears noticed that Hudah Salah, who had previously said very little had become much more talkative since their escape from the fire — and her separation from Lion Slayer. Here she was again: “Perhaps the fire in some way joins up with the fire of the sunset. Then, he shines more brilliantly than ever.”

Easy Tears listened carefully to Hudah Salah, just as she did to everyone in her own tribe. “That’s an interesting possibility, Hudah. Let us think on that.”

{Translator’s Note}: And, unlike our more “civilized” society, where everyone is judged on being able to respond immediately with arguments carefully crafted to push people into one of two predefined camps, what Easy Tears actually did was the following: She allowed herself to think. She did not try to dissect the idea, nor prove it, nor disprove it. She let the idea loose in the archives of her mind. Easy Tears, in particular, did not like to put up walls either between herself and others or within her own memory archives. There was no “Restricted” area. The idea could play around in there as long as it liked. What was the hurry? Their bodies all needed restitution and traveling by night is not always a good way to make things quicker. And, now they were all enjoying the sunset.

Of course, unlike the Veritas, your translator was brought up in a world where speed is all and if you can’t get your next version of software out the door yesterday, you can go out the exit door for good. So, when I describe things, I tend to phrase things in a much more simplistic fashion than what actually went on in the minds of the Veritas, as best we can tell from the burgeoning field of statistically inferential macro-psycholinguistics. It would be helpful then for you, the reader, to remember that my translations will tend to reflect my own modernistic blinders – and yours. But let’s get back to finding out whether these folks are going to get back to the center place of the Veritas alive and tell Many Paths, their leader, what they have learned about The People Who Steal Children.

As Easy Tears allowed the idea to roam freely, she did not have to “watch” the idea or “be careful” where it might lead. So, she could just sit back and watch the sunset. The idea conjured a trumpet that sang a song about fire. Most of the various artifacts, people, ideas, places, in the mind of Easy Tears paid little attention to this particular tune. A few however, had their say. Easy Tears recalled how hard it had been to see when they were running through fire. Even when the flames were not an issue, the smoke made it hard to see. So smoke interacted with sight.

Another memory heard the tune and danced to it. Easy Eyes had been a small child, but one who had already revealed her eye for beauty and design. Everyone who wished to, was encouraged by the Veritas to share designs for patterns on both the autumnal and vernal equinoxes. She had created several ideas in her head and one in particular had caught her eye. That would be the one! She worked in secret on her full scale project and as it neared completion, she became more and more disconcerted. The design no longer seemed a thing of real beauty. She recreated the small scale version and it still held exquisite beauty and balance. What, she wondered, was going on? She had gone back to her larger design and it appeared empty and bland. So, the size of something could even change its nature. She had added additional elements to the large scale design and had, in fact, received much praise for her design. This was sincere praise, not just pat-the-sweet-little-girl-on-the-top-of-the-head praise. And, she knew it. So, smoke rises and spreads and becomes more sparse.

6515873C-D2E3-4282-9C68-0B89AE860B8A

Easy Tears related these awakened memories to the group and Hudah Salah translated for Day-Nah.

Fleet-of-Foot, though not quite so open as Easy Tears, also allowed these words and memories free access to his own experience. “For some reason that I cannot explain, it reminds me of skipping stones on a creek or a pond. You want stones that are as round and flat as possible. But, the size of the stones proves crucial too. If a stone is too small, even if it’s flat, it will curve in the air and slice right into the water too steeply. If the stone is too large, even if well made, you cannot throw it fast enough and it will only skip a few times. So, here too, the behavior depends on the shape, or design, but also on the size.

AEEE88B5-FAA7-4DAB-911F-6101A7C68609

“Yes,” added Hudah Salah, “in my experience size matters. And also speed. In our lands, much sand there is and one grain or two — this is nothing. But we have — you and Eagle Eyes — you saw such a storm, during your visit. Much sand coming fast – it can kill you. The nature of much is different from the nature of one or a few.”

Photo by Noelle Otto on Pexels.com

After a long pause, and when the sunset had faded from crimson all the way to gray ash, Easy Tears said, “We think it may be the case that something about the nature of much smoke together on the ground to be different than much smoke not together high in the air. But sunsets vary so much. We must ask to join with the wisdom of others to decide. Let us sleep. I will keep first watch.”

The dawn also proved visually stupendous. The foursome broke camp and continued their journey even before the color reached its peak. They saw no sign of their friends nor, thankfully, of the People Who Steal Children. They did see horse hoof marks and that kept them on the alert.

Occasionally, they returned to the topic of the beautiful sunsets and sunrises and whether it was related to the fire.

Hudah Salah remarked, “In the heat of the summer, it seems as though the sun actually pushes you down, as though the light is heavy.”

Fleet-of-Foot turned back to look at Hudah. He smiled at her. An image of them together flickered through his mind. Then, the same idea stole into his mind in words. After all, he thought, life must go on. If Eagle Eyes and Lion Slayer are both dead…. Or, perhaps, they just decided to go off together? How could they have just disappeared? We were all running together. Maybe they’re sick of all this fighting. That’s ridiculous. I know she’s okay and I know we will be together. Feed the good wolf; feed the good wolf he reminded himself.

Easy Tears spoke. “I have a feeling it has something to do with light that reflects or the light that isn’t there.”

Now, Fleet-of-Foot was amazed at Easy Tears. “Light that isn’t there?”

Easy Tears, motioned to Fleet-of-Foot to come closer. “Look at the bare ground over there. What do you see?”

“Many things. You mean, your shadow?”

“Yes, Fleet-of-Foot, my shadow. It is lack of light. What color does it appear?”

Fleet-of-Foot frowned. “Color? No color. Well, I suppose it looks a little bit blue compared with what is around it.”

Hudah Salah broke in, “Oh, yes, it is blue. It can be quite obvious in the desert. The sun is yellow but the not-sun is blue.”

Fleet-of-Foot considered. “I see what you mean. But, I’m not sure…”

Easy Tears pointed to the other side of her, “Now, look over there. What do you see?”

Fleet-of-Foot shrugged his shoulders. “Not shadow?”

Easy Tears laughed. “Don’t guess! Look! And keep moving. My shadows will come with me!”

Fleet-of-Foot shook his head, frowned, and took another look as he strode alongside. At last he said, “Well, to tell you the truth, you have another shadow on that side but it’s vague and a bit greenish.”

Easy Tears continued. “Yes. You see those bright red sunrise clouds high in the sky? There is shadow from the light of them as well.

They strode on silently for a time.

Fleet-of-Foot said, “You are truly amazing to have ever noticed that!”

Easy Tears laughed. “Oh, I didn’t see it. I lived for years and never noticed it. Eagle Eyes pointed it out to me. She truly is amazing! Haven’t you noticed?”

Fleet-of-Foot blushed and hoped the others attributed it to the high red clouds. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “Yes, of course.”

They continued all day with few breaks. At last they found themselves on the path they had taken on the way out. A few hours later, they were at the same odd door that stymied them for a time on the way in. They had intentionally left it closed in the hope of thwarting what they assumed would be a large group of the People Who Steal Children riding on horseback. Now, their way was blocked by a large heavy door that six of them had had difficulty with. How could they open it with only three adults and a small child. The alternative was to try to find another route but nothing obvious had presented itself.

The three of them pushed and pulled to no avail. After some minutes, they managed to move it perhaps half an inch. Then it stopped and further effort proved fruitless. The three sat down heavily and looked at each other, trying to catch their breath. They looked around and realized that none of them knew where Day-Nah had gone.

fullsizeoutput_1375

Fleet-of-Foot called out, “Day-Nah!”

“Day-Nah. Here. Help me.”

Fleet-of-Foot cautiously approached the voice and soon saw Day-Nah pulling at something. Fleet-of-Foot soon saw that it was a thick rod of the same stuff that the door itself was made of.

Fleet-of-Foot was amazed and wanted to learn more. “Where? Where did this come from? What place?”

Day-Nah stared at him uncomprehendingly. Fleet-of-Foot thought back to his time among the Nomads of the South. Suddenly, the word sprang to mind.

As soon as he said it, Day-Nah’s face brightened and he ran over to a nearby hollow log. Fleet-of-Foot thought it an odd place to hide a club, but it seemed to be a good club despite its odd shape and long length. It was made of this hard, heavy material and he was happy to have it. But he could not use it to break down the door. It was made of the same stuff and way too thick to be destroyed with a club.

PicturesfromiPhone2 070

Fleet-of-Foot returned to Easy Tears and Hudah Salam and showed them the club. Waving it slightly, he said, “This may prove useful should we encounter the People Who Steal Children.”

Hudah Salam looked at him and smiled. She walked directly toward him and for a moment, he thought she might kiss him!

But it was not to be. She merely, took the “club” from him and walked over to the door. She put one end into the small slit and put both hands on the other end. Then, she braced her feet and pulled backwards. The door moved!

Fleet-of-Foot laughed and shook his head. “Oh! How not fleet-of-thought I am!”

His friends laughed too. Easy Tears glanced at him and smiled. “I didn’t see it either. But I suspect Eagle Eyes would have. She’s good at that kind of thing.”

Fleet-of-Foot smiled. He knew exactly what Easy Tears had meant by ‘that kind of thing’ though there was really no word for it. But there should be, he thought and they pitched in and quickly moved the door.

On toward the Center Place of the Veritas they strode. After a few moments, Fleet-of-Foot waved the lever and said, “Well, it also makes a good club.” All of them laughed for it seemed to them at the time that the worst was over.

——————————————————————-

Author’s Page on Amazon

The Pros and Cons of AI

Introduction to a Pattern Language for Collaboration and Teamwork

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Orange Man

The Beginning of the Tales of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Two

Bohm Dialogue

The Forgotten Field

The Dance of Billions

Roar, Ocean, Roar

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Who Won the War?

Guernica

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

Peace

Travels With Sadie 14: Stick With It

17 Tuesday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in dogs, nature, pets, psychology, Sadie, Uncategorized

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

creativity, dogs, fiction, invention, life, pets, story, tools, writing

At age nine, we moved to a new house in a housing development with about 20 houses. All around us on every side were large fields and woods. During much of the year, I would spend as much time as I possibly could outdoors. Sometimes, I would arrange to explore with a friend, but most often, I went on adventures by myself. On countless occasions, soon after one of my walks began, I would find a stick. On rare occasions, I would pick up a perfect stick and it became a sword, a club, a spear, a staff, or a walking stick. Most often though, the stick would need to be modified. I generally held down one end with my foot and pulled up with my hands so as to break it to the needed length. Sometimes, it was necessary to find a forked tree instead. I would put the stick in the small space between the double trunk and push on the stick till it broke.

Imagine my surprise, seventy years later, to find that my Golden Doodle Sadie likes to do the same thing. I take her for a walk, and she likes to find a stick. Sometimes, she carries the stick as is, but more commonly, she likes to break the stick first. She does this by holding one end down with her foot and lifting the other end with her jaws.

Sadie’s younger brother Bailey loves to play ball and swim and go to the dog park just as much as Sadie. But, so far, he’s shown no real interest in finding, carrying, or modifying sticks. It might possibly be because I made a point of explaining to Sadie that I was using a tool for many “stick-like” things. Indeed, Bailey does show an interest in grabbing the grabber out of my hands. He certainly likes bones and loves to steal things from his older sister Sadie. But, so far as I can tell, he could live a stick-less life of satisfaction. I suppose I could too, but historically, it’s amazing how much of my life I’ve spent with a pen, a pencil, a ping-pong paddle, a baseball bat, a tennis racket, a golf club, a leash, a grabber, a broom, a shovel, a weeder, an axe, a knife, a hammer, a screwdriver, a saw, a piece of chalk, a magic marker, a box-cutter, a spoon, a fork, or an iPhone in my hand!

Sometimes, Sadie breaks the entire length of a found stick into short pieces. More often, she shortens it to a more convenient carrying length and carries the stick in her mouth for a time. Once in a while, she’ll carry a stick all the way home and she’s even tried to bring it into the house though I typically tell her to leave it outside. On the next walk, she has found the stick and continued carrying it.

Her fascination with sticks isn’t limited to walks. Sometimes, I go hang out with her and play ball out in the garden. She walks through the garden with me, searches for lizards or plays any one of a score of ball games that we have co-invented. But if we’re out for long, she’ll eventually go into the brush, find a stick, bring it over to her favorite spot near the Italian Stone Pine and chew on or modify it in some way. I go sit in a chair on the stone patio and watch her.

Meanwhile, she watches me do some exercises or take photos while she chews on her stick.

It’s easy to find differences, but it seems to me, that I was taught in school to put much more emphasis on finding differences than on finding similarities. I doubt it’s just me. We’re taught both explicitly and implicitly that humans are the whole point of evolution: the pinnacle; the only animals who (fill in the blank); the only ones with souls; the smartest ones, etc.

It’s all BS. Sure, there are differences between any two things. Or, two groups. Or, two nations. Or, two religions. Or, two blah-blahs. But, it’s mainly mere habit and inconvenience that prevents us from seeing the vastness of the similarities.

All life is related. And similar in so many ways! Give it a try. You won’t see all the similarities immediately.

But you will if you stick with it.

—————

Travels with Sadie 10

Travels with Sadie 11

Travels with Sadie 12

Travels with Sadie 13

The Walkabout Diaries: Bee Wise

The Walkabout Diaries: How Beautiful and Green

The Walkabout Diaries: Mind Walk

The Walkabout Diaries: A Rose is a Rose

The Walkabout Diaries: A Walk in the Park

The Walkabout Diaries: Sunsets

The Walkabout Diaries: Life will Find a Way

The Walkabout Diaries: Variation

The Walkabout Diaries: Symphony

The Walkabout Diaries: Precipitation

Dog Years

Dog Trainers

Unstrung Bow & Unsteady Arrow of the Cruel

03 Tuesday Mar 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

creativity, escape, fantasy, fiction, innovation, leadership, legend, life, myth, peace, politics, short story, story, strategy, tactics, truth, war, weapons, writing

The Unstrung Bow & The Unsteady Arrow of the Cruel

80B4784C-9B78-4B8E-BBB9-BF223F46234C

Tu-Swift discovered that waiting, just waiting, can often prove more difficult even than a hand-blistering day of shoveling horse manure. He returned to his training. “Inventory” he whispered to himself. After recalling everything about himself, his surroundings, Day-Nah, and the circumstances, he carefully went over the plans, if he might even call them that. He wished he had a weapon. His small sharp stone was no match for their odd looking bows, all of which they methodically hung up in a row on the outside of a building next to the barn, their strings dangling. Beneath each bow, a quiver of arrows stood upright on the pounded dirt. Tu-Swift’s brow furrowed as a strange thought came to edge of his mind. He nearly swatted it away as reflexively as he might swat away an annoying fly.

Like all the Veritas, he had been taught that theft, like every manifestation of greed, was wrong-headed. It would be feeding the “bad wolf” within himself. He would never steal from another of the Veritas. But these people who stood atop horses had stolen him. And, he suspected, that they had also stolen Day-Nah. So, maybe stealing some of their bows would be….It took a lot of work and effort to make a good bow; this he knew from personal experience. But to steal a person from their family, from their tribe? Surely that was far worse. Those bows, along with the arrows, had been loosed upon his tribe. On the other hand, trying to carry several dozen bows would be too awkward when trying to escape. He dug out his hard, small stone and turned it over in his hand. Tu-Swift chuckled inwardly. “You are not much of a weapon, little stone, but perhaps you can defeat a stronger one.” He thought he would try to manage stealing three of the bows and a quiver of arrows.

black and brown bow on grass field during daytime

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Tu-Swift looked out into the dark, silent, and empty courtyard of the Center Place of the child-stealers. He heard no-one stirring about. He could hear the noises, faint and distant, of the horses nickering and of people snoring, but he could not detect any footsteps. He signaled Day-Nah to stay close and to stay quiet. Despite his young age, Day-Nah was quite adept at being careful and quiet. Careful to slink along in the shadows, they slowly made their way toward the paddock, from stump, to shed, to bush, always seeking some way to stay hidden in the darkness. Now, however, to get to the hanging bows, he would have to venture into open ground. If one of the guards saw him, they would raise an alarm. Others might think he was simply a youth on his way to relieve himself.

He grabbed a handful of the bows and brought them into the vacant log building. He inserted his thin stone knife into the nock at the bottom of an unstrung bow and twisted. The nock snapped just as he had hoped. He worked as quickly as he could. After disabling the bows, he gestured for Day-Nah to stay inside while Tu-Swift ventured back outside to gather another armful of bows and quivers. He quickly snuck back inside and repeated the process. This time however, instead of completely breaking off the nock, he cracked it enough, as best he could judge, that attempting to string the bow would finish the job.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

By being so organized, he reflected, these child-stealers had made themselves more vulnerable. That seemed odd, but Tu-Swift did not follow that path and instead looked about in the dim light for a place to hide arrows. Working quickly, he placed most of the arrows underfoot and bent them up enough to crack them without severing them.

Although concentrating on breaking as many arrows as he could, he realized that this place was quite unlike anything among the Veritas. Nothing in this place seemed round and living. It all looked hard and sharp even in the semi-darkness. He whispered softly and gestured to Day-Nah making him to understand that he was to hide these bows and arrows. He went outside and gathered the rest of the bows and arrows. As he did so, he could perceive a slight glow on the horizon. The moon was about to rise!

He went back inside and slung the arrows around the odd room, stomped on all the quivers, save one which he saved for himself. Then, he made Day-Nah understand that he needed now to be very quiet. He took his hand and they peered out into the courtyard. Still no-one appeared. Why were there no sentries? Did these people who stole children not suppose someone would come to rescue him? Another thought for another day. The moonlight now showed itself in patches between deep shadows as they padded their way to the meadow where the horses and mares were near each other though separated.

Tu-Swift picked up two sticks from the woodpile and banged them together, trying to sound as much like a woodpecker as he could. “We are with the horses in the meadow. I am about to set them free on your signal.”

Immediately, he heard another “woodpecker” answer: “We are here. Set them free. Then run to our sound.”

He and Day-Nah went over to the small new pens that Tu-Swift had constructed to separate the foals and mares. He pulled out a few rails of wood and the foals were now free to go. The foals however did not seem to notice, instead sticking close to their mothers. Tu-Swift again cautioned Day-Nah to remain quiet. He saw shadowy figures emerge from the nearby grove of firs and they began dismantling the fence. A flash of moonlight happened to fall on the face of Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift could barely contain a cry of joy from escaping his throat.

The horses had been nickering nervously from the smell of so many unknown humans, but now a few began rearing up and pawing the air. In so doing, they discovered that their feet were no longer strongly tethered. The mares whinnied and reunited through the broken fences with their foals. Tu-Swift then heard a wonderful sound – the sound of Shadow Walker saying it was time to join up. He grabbed Day-Nah’s hand and they ran toward the fir grove. The horses seemed to be scattering everywhere.

fullsizeoutput_2444

As they ran into fir grove, he could hear yelling and many footsteps back in the main courtyard. Although he had learned almost nothing of the language of those who steal children, he could tell from the frustration in the voices that the warriors of those who steal children began to discover that their bows were not in their proper place. Better yet, they began screaming accusations at each other rather than searching for their lost weapons.

The Veritas party proceeded quickly through the fir grove through the trail that they had marked. Shadow Walker bore Day-Nah on his back. After running quickly for a time, Shadow Walker put up his hand and they all stopped to listen. They could hear a great many voices – the tribe who steals children sounded much like a broken hive of bees. Shadow Walker stood Day-Nah on the ground for a moment. Shadow Walker bent and put his hands on his knees to help catch his breath. He lifted his head and caught the eye of Day-Nah who said in heavily accented Veritas, “I run” and he used his hand to gesture a run, scissoring his fingers back and forth as Tu-Swift had done. Shadow Walker looked at the boys wide dark eyes and nodded.

Now, the rescuers and the two boys jogged at an easier pace for nearly two hours, circling part-way around the stronghold of the tribe who steals children and back toward the home of the Veritas. Just before dawn, quite exhausted, after clambering up a fairly steep hill, they sat down to rest and stretch for a moment. Eagle Eyes scanned the horizon for pursuers but listened intently as Tu-Swift quickly recounted what he knew of this tribe who perches atop horses and steals children from their families. The boy spoke so quickly that Eagle Eyes had trouble understanding, but Hudah Salah appeared to follow the tale without difficulty.

fullsizeoutput_2449

——————————————————————————

Author Page on Amazon.

The First Ring of Empathy

Travels with Sadie

The Walkabout Diaries

You Must Remember This

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

At Least he’s Our Monster

All the Roads not Taken

After All

Who Won the War?

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Fish have no Word for “Water”

Tu-Swift’s Dream

02 Monday Mar 2026

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

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

communication, creativity, ethics, fiction, horses, leadership, legend, life, myth, short story, story, truth, writing

Tu-Swift dreamed of one of the childhood games he most loved. In the game, the children stood in a circle and one, the “beater” tapped out a complex and complicated rhythm, typically just hitting one stick on another. The “caller” then called out a series of moves. The “dancer” then had to perform the moves in time to to the rhythm. The rest critiqued the performance. Generally, the “dancer” had to repeat the moves several times before perfecting the timing. Tu-Swift almost always “got” the correct rhythm immediately. Indeed, he often added various embellishments for “style.” His only fault was sometimes performing a movement one beat too quickly. Indeed, it was this, rather than his running speed, which first encouraged his clan-mates to call him “Tu-Swift.”

Now, he had returned in his dreams to these pleasant games, but as he viewed the dream children, they made longer and ridiculously complicated rhythms. The children in the dream grew old, morphing into Veritas adults such as Shadow Walker and Fleet of Foot. The tempo accelerated until even Tu-Swift had trouble keeping up. The game had gone all wrong and they seemed to all be drumming much too quickly to follow.

A snake slithered toward the drum. Its giant fanged mouth opened wide and it reared back ready to strike. Tu-Swift heard a scream and awoke. He shook his head in the dim early light of day. He was puzzled that the children and the adults had all disappeared. He realized he had been dreaming and that the scream was his own.

Day-Nah face furrowed into a worry gully. Tu-Swift smiled and spoke reassuringly to the younger boy. Though Tu-Swift realized the youngster understood very little of the tongue of the Veritas, he hoped his tone would communicate enough. It seemed to work. The boy no longer looked frightened.

6C787BB9-53BC-431C-BDB3-AD9F35A4AED3

Tu-Swift realized now that a nearby woodpecker tapped out the complex rhythms he had heard. They really were complex though. He frowned. Something was not right about this particular woodpecker. It had too many variations and the sound was too “bright” yet not loud enough to sound right.

The phrase “On the northern side” suddenly came to mind. Then, “Are you okay?” Tu-Swift began to wonder whether he was still dreaming. “Where are you?” “Answer when you can.” I am not dreaming, Tu-Swift thought to himself. Those are drums! Well, not exactly drums, but this was the drum-style of Shadow Walker! He was out there pretending to be a woodpecker and sending him messages. They had come for him!

Just then, he heard the the voices of the captors talking amongst themselves and drawing nearer to the building where the horses were kept, and where he and Day-Nah now made their home as well. Soon, the two boys were untied from the pillar and led, their feet still tethered, to the paddock where the same three burly men gestured and shouted that they were to further separate the foals from their mares. The narrow passage that Tu-Swift had engineered worked pretty well, but a few of the foals had not yet ventured into the narrow passage and would have to be encouraged to enter it. Such “encouragement” might be misinterpreted by the mares who might, in turn, bite the boys or even smash them with their hooves.

C3DFBFC1-D938-40E4-861D-15FD4F0FEA65

Tu-Swift grabbed two sticks from the nearby woodpile and walked over slowly to a point outside the fence near where a mare and her foal foraged inside. He spoke gently to them, as he always did, as he approached. Now, he took the two sticks and banged them together. He glanced over at the three burly men who seemed to be more concerned with their own discussion than they were in directing the labors of the boys. Tu-Swift hoped the Veritas were still nearby for the paddock was near the northern end of camp. He tried to use his drumming so that the three who stand atop horses would think he was trying to scare the horses into separating, but meanwhile, he tapped out: “I am here. I am OK. There is a small boy here too. Horses will soon escape. Come back after dark. After moonset. We are tied at night. I can untie. We will be in large building with horses.” He repeated the message again and managed to scare the foal into the small side pen. The foal’s mother was furious and wild that she couldn’t get back to her foal and slammed her hooves into the fence. For a moment, Tu-Swift thought she would destroy the fence. But all that sound and fury, even though it came from his mother, scared the small horse further into the corner.

The burly men now came and tied the two boys back to back against a small elm tree while they threw other loops of rope around the foal and led it somewhere unknown. The mare grew frantic as the three men dragged, pushed, and scolded the foal into another place that the boys could not see, nor presumably could the mare.

Tu-Swift wanted to tell the small boy about the rescuers and the drum messages. But Day-Nah’s understanding of Veritas remained minimal. Without being able to use his hands, he didn’t think he could explain how their situation had changed. As he thought about it, Tu-Swift considered than perhaps it was better not to explain the situation. Day-Nah was almost as helpless as the foals that he had just helped capture. Who knew how he might react to such news? Tu-Swift had himself struggled not to let any joy escape his heart and make visible camp on his face.

Soon, the men returned and “freed” the two boys so they could separate another pair. Tu-Swift again wielded two sticks and repeated his message. In due course, the third and final pair were separated. Now, the boys were returned to the barn, provided a meal, and tied to a pillar so that they could only move about five feet in any direction.

Shadows grew long and the evening air grew chill. Tu-Swift busied himself teaching Day-Nah some simple commands that could prove useful if they got the chance to escape. It occurred to Tu-Swift on several occasions that they could simply leave the boy behind. But each time he considered it, such an action, while recognizing its convenience, he had no doubt that leaving Day-Nah behind would be feeding the part of himself that was the “bad wolf.”

Tu-Swift noticed that his mind always offered plausible excuses when such cowardly thoughts arose. “Let his own tribe come and save him.” “He will just slow us down.” “He’ll give away our position.” “Maybe he’ll be happier here. Who knows?” Tempting, but like the other Veritas, he had been taught at a very early age to understand that such thoughts were “Poison Ivy seeds.”

Many Paths had used that analogy showing Tu-Swift that, as is the way of many plants, poison ivy could spread by vine growth but also did sometimes sprout flowers and these flowers made white fruits which would fall to the ground and if conditions proved favorable, new vines could grow. Such seeds were poison to eat or even to touch, Many Paths had explained and so were easy rationalizations of selfishness.

The knocking of the “woodpecker” returned and tore away his reverie. Shadow Walker’s drumming continued and repeated. “We will come for you just after moonset. Be awake. Be ready.” Tu-Swift took out the small sharp stone he managed to squirrel away and tapped out his response against the pillar to which they were tied. He hoped it could be heard, for there was now much stirring and moving about in the camp as they prepared for dinner.

“Ready. We are in large building with horses. Take me to horse fence. I will set them free.”

Tu-Swift had still not found a way to communicate any of this to Day-Nah, and tried to hide his excitement. He made sure Day-Nah understood Veritas for “fast,” “slow,” “quiet,” and “hide.” After it seemed that the people who steal children were all asleep, he tapped out his message again. He hoped it sounded enough like a woodpecker not to arouse suspicion. He tried to recall whether he had ever heard a woodpecker at night but he wasn’t sure. Soon, the moon would be setting. He again emphasized “quiet” for the youngster. Then, he tried to explain escape. He had been worried the boy might shout for joy, but there was neither a shout for joy, nor, so far as Tu-Swift could see, the slightest understanding of “escape.”

Tu-Swift took his sharp stone and rapidly shredded the remaining bonds on his feet, weakened earlier by the eager teeth of the hungry horses. Each foot still sprouted a long length of rope, not ideal for running through underbrush to escape a people who stood atop horses. He had no time to cut through all the ropes but tied the loose ends as tightly as he could around his ankles to make it less likely they would trip him. Then, he began cutting through the bonds that held Day-Nah’s from full strides.

Tu-Swift saw the youngster’s eyes grow wide in the dim light. Day-Nah whispered the word for “escape” and smiled. Day-Nah’s bonds at last were also cut through and Tu-Swift tied each of the loose ends around first one and then the other of the boy’s ankles. Now, they waited. Tu-Swift listened but no drumming came. The frogs were certainly noisy tonight though!

Then, the image of Shadow Walker came to his mind. Shadow Walker had once spent an evening talking with Many Paths and Tu-Swift about snakes and frogs and made a very realistic frog sound. It suddenly hit Tu-Swift that Shadow Walker was talking to them! He was hiding his voice in the voice of the frogs! What was he saying? Of course! He was instructing them to go outside if they could and sneak back to the paddock.

After the first night, they had always been tied to a pillar at night. He had no idea whether there were nearby guards, but he had not seen or heard any evidence of such. He again emphasized to Day-Nah that they must be quiet, quiet, quiet. Just as the last moonbeams sunk beneath the forest of firs, Tu-Swift lay along the ground and looked out into the large open space next to the barn. Seeing nothing, he wriggled a bit further as the wind blew. “Patience, Tu-Swift, patience” he told himself while imagining Many Paths saying that to him.