petersironwood

The Myths of the Veritas The First Ring of Empathy

The Forgotten Field

The Orange Man

Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Who Won the War?

After All

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Poker Chips

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Peace

The Crows and Me

Math Class: Who Are You?

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

Travels with Sadie Teamwork

The Walkabout Diaries Sunsets

Myths of the Veritas: Books

30 Saturday May 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, family, health, politics, psychology, Uncategorized, Veritas

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books, bullying, Democracy, ecology, empathy, ethics, fantasy, fiction, greed, harmony, history, leadership, legends, life, lying, myth, politics, power, science, short story, story, truth, Veritas, writing

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Fleet of Foot took a deep breath. The air still held a bit of chill. In this place, surrounded by high cliffs, the sun had difficulty finding and warming the land. He enjoyed the chill but also enjoyed the warmth when if finally came. He wondered how these Veritas who lived beyond the Twin Peaks regarded him and his companions.

He realized that, whereas the Veritas who lived near the Forgotten Field of Flowers had had many interactions with a number of different tribes within living memory, the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks had had only three such “interactions” in memory and all had been disastrous raids where children had been stolen and taken off on horseback before a reasonable defense could be mounted. Of course, they had tried to track down The People Who Steal Children, but such tracks had led to a solid wall of rock that none could penetrate. Others, including the parents of Cat Eyes, Of the Night and Gathers Acorns, had attempted to cross the treacherous melting glaciers. None had returned.

Fleet of Foot looked over at Cat Eyes who sat in a circle with a dozen of her kin and they pored over some of the mysterious markings. The strange pupils of Cat Eyes had made her immediately recognizable to everyone here except the young children. This had no doubt played a part in their easy acceptance of Cat Eyes though the lucky accident — if that’s what it was — of her fulfilling a prophesy — made what would have been acceptance and rejoicing into something more — something like the reverence that everyone in his own land felt for She Who Saves Many Lives. And yet, Cat Eyes was so much younger. He watched her — she seemed so at home with everyone here. Fleet of Foot remembered his former friends ALT-R and POND MUD. They — or at least ALT-R would have used the good feeling to gain power or wangle extra portions of delicacies. But this was not the nature of Cat Eyes. She got along with everyone of every age. Most of those in the circle were young but everyone was interested in the decoding.

It was important work in the eyes of these Veritas who lived beyond the Twin Peaks. Even Gentle Talons sat sometimes in the circle learning the keys to understanding the markings and then, taking one of the collections and trying to make sense of it. It was a halting and laborious process. There were so many to decode! Each one was like a precious jewel. Each one sparkled and reflected a new light on what was all about them. Some told of medicines that had been forgotten. Some told of strange mythologies about the earth and the stars and the sky wanderers. Some described impossible creatures, both humorous and terrible; both gigantic and some so small one could not even see them!

Each day, the Veritas learned something. And each day was pleasant. Yet, each and every day, Fleet of Foot felt a stronger and stronger tug to return to his own home. Trunk of Tree had begun to insist that they return days ago. He felt that they had accomplished their mission and learned much besides. Fleet of Foot looked up and saw that Trunk of Tree strode toward him. Fleet of Foot sighed. For he knew that Trunk of Tree was about to argue, yet again, that they should return with their news to the Center Place of the Veritas.

“Good morning, Fleet of Foot. See yonder Cat Eyes. She has found her home. That seems clear. What of us? Our home is also beautiful. Let us arrange to go. Leave her here. Let’s get back. We can’t take all those … things … with us!”

He gestured toward the cliffs where most of these strange boxes of knowledge were still among the many unexplored shelves. Trunk of Tree growled, “Maybe we could take a few. Maybe some of these Veritas will want to accompany us. But we need to get back! We have no idea what Eagle Eyes and Shadow Walker have found. We have no idea whether — even now — our Center Place may be under attack with Killing Sticks. We’re well rested. These Veritas have no Killing Sticks. What use are they? Let’s go.”

Fleet of Foot sighed. He felt much as Trunk of Tree felt. He worried about the Center Place. Yet, the decoding work seemed very important as well. It was as though — it was a kind of magic. Cat Eyes and those she had taught were discovering things — some ridiculous of course, like the fish with eight arms and a beak who lives in a giant lake or large birds who cannot fly and little bugs so small they cannot be seen but still make people sick. Or the notions about the sky wanderers and the sun. Absurd, but still interesting.

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Yet other things seemed very useful: medicines, ways to prepare foods, a description of a way to lengthen one’s arm with a stick in order to throw a spear faster and farther. No-one had been successful at actually making such a device though. Perhaps it was also fanciful. Why would “The Ancients” mix together so many fanciful things with useful information? It’s a mystery.

Fleet of Foot nodded to Trunk of Tree. “There is much truth in what you say, Trunk of Tree. I too am eager to return. I suppose — I am not entirely convinced that the tunnel will even work. It was too … it seems now more like a dream I had than a reality. Somehow, I too worry about the Center Place. Perhaps most of us should return now. Let’s see how the others feel.”

“Why? Many Paths made me the leader. I don’t see why you keep thinking I should see how the others feel.”

Fleet of Foot sighed and looked at Trunk of Tree. “I know you don’t, Trunk of Tree. I have some trouble to explain it. If we all understand how each of us feels, then, when something happens we can work together better. We don’t have to stop in the middle of an emergency and have a discussion when there is no time for such a discussion. Each person knows — or at least makes a good guess — about how every other person will react.”

“If everyone would just follow my orders, we would all know too. Because everyone would follow my orders. If we did that….” Trunk of Tree gestured with his open hands but added no words of clarification.

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“If we did that we would still be stuck in the tunnel. In fact, if we did that, we wouldn’t have even found the tunnel. Do you really want to decide for others whether they should go or stay? How might you make such a decision without talking with them?”

“I know it’s important that we go back. We have information that we came to get. And, it may be important. And, you just said you feel the same way. Let’s just go! Come on Fleet of Foot.”

“I think most will agree with you, but let’s hear their voices. Yes, we have learned some important things, but every day that Cat Eyes works with those — cousins of hers, we learn more about the world that we never knew.”

“And we learn nonsense as well! What use it is to think about — the other day, I overheard Cat Eyes and her friends talking about a lake that is so large you cannot see across it! What nonsense. And, it tastes like salt. And, it has waves as high as a tree. What use are such ramblings. These things do not exist. I don’t believe any of it when there is so much that…now what?”

There was commotion around the small circle of cousins. They all seemed to be talking at once. A small crowd was gathering around the circle and adding to the general commotion. As the crowd grew, others began to pause in their tasks and walk over to see what was happening. At last, Gentle Talons came over and used his not inconsiderable voice to quiet the crowd.

“Please. Please! One at a time. What is all this ado about?” He looked directly at Cat Eyes, somewhat accusingly, somewhat wonderingly.

closeup photo of book filed on shelf — Photo by John-Mark Smith on Pexels.com

“Oh, Gentle Talons, we have been decoding this book — for that is what they are called — all of them are called “books” — this book is called The Book of Civilizations. And it … it says that all of this — she gestured with both her arms, palms up, to sweep in the entire excavated cave was made by an ancient people…that there have been many great gatherings of people. Such people learned many things and had comfortable lives. And they had many wondrous things. They explored everywhere and learned much.”

It became clear that Cat Eyes, for some strange reason, was having trouble speaking. She was swallowing hard, holding back tears.

The booming voice of Gentle Talons rang out, “Please, sister, continue. What? Where are these civilizations?”

Trunk of Tree and Fleet of Foot had walked over to watch more closely. Fleet of Foot craned his neck and wedged his way forward to look more closely upon the face of Cat Eyes. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. What is going on?, he wondered. How can mere … markings on the page cause such pain? Books? She had called them books? But how can they cause tears? He forced his way into the circle and took the hands of Cat Eyes, holding them gently in her own.

“What is it? What’s wrong, Cat Eyes? Why do these tears flow on your cheeks? What strange magic is in these — books?”

gray concrete building on top of hill — Photo by Suliman Sallehi on Pexels.com

Cat Eyes squeezed the hands of Fleet of Foot and drew strength from them. She took several deep breaths and continued. “This book — this book tells of many wondrous civilizations. They used wisdom and experience much as we ourselves do. They learned from each other. They loved each other. They ensured that they had enough food and yet … each of them … each of these ancient peoples … destroyed themselves. But it’s worse than that. The destroyed themselves through greed and hubris. They sought to … they knew about the Myth of the Orange Man. They knew that lying and greed destroyed other, earlier peoples. And, yet, each time, they stopped … they stopped being kin and part of nature. They knew that greed had killed other civilizations before them.” Cat Eyes shook her head and sighed before continuing on.

“Yet, each new civilization thought — somehow — it would be different for them. Of course, it was not different. Lies and greed and putting power over truth destroyed every single one of them. The story seems so real. But — how can it be? How could people know such greed and lies led to so much death and destruction and yet — they did it over and over again? According to this….” Cat Eyes stopped. She shook her head. She gulped and slowed her breathing.

At last, she was able to continue. “According to this book, there are much worse weapons than Killing Sticks. And they have been used to destroy untold numbers of people. And, after the greedy take everything and kill everyone, they die too! Because — in all their greed, they forgot how to live without stealing from others. And this didn’t happen just once. It’s happened over and over. How can this be? It can’t be true.”

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All had heard her words. And all reflected silently upon them.

After some moments, Cat Eyes continued. “It can’t be true. And yet — I think it is — the book says that after a time, the greedy people begin to believe exactly that — that it cannot be true — and so — they make the same exact mistakes again. And again. And again. It seems impossible and yet…where are they? Where are the people who made these books and these caves? It seems as though they knew all of this — and allowed greed and lies to destroy them anyway! Are we doomed to be that stupid yet again?”

Cat Eyes bit her lip and looked up at the eyes of each person she could see around her. No-one answered. She ended looking into the eyes of Fleet of Foot. But he too remained silent.

——————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

Essays on America: A Lot is not a Little.

The Anti-Academic Pandemic

The Truth Train

Essays on America: You Bet Your Life

Come back to the Light Side

Life is a Dance

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

We Won the War! We Won the War!

There Never Was a Civil War

The Crows and Me

After All

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Guernica

Jaccim Knows the Way

01 Friday May 2026

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

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communiation, cooperation, Democracy, dialogue, diversity, fantasy, fiction, leadership, legends, life, myths, peace, politics, problem solving, sense making, short story, stories, strategy, tactics, tales, truth, Veritas, war, writing

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Among the several dialogues brought on by recent revelations — Killing Sticks, Walled City, Tamed Horses, and Drawings that Talk — the one that Tu-Swift invariably participated in dealt with Other Veritas. Tu-Swift did find the topic itself of considerable interest but his main motivation was that he would see, and sit beside, Cat Eyes.

Cat Eyes seemed to him exotic, not just because of her amazing eyes, but also because she had lived in such different circumstances from most of the people he knew. He found the other two ROI women someone exotic too, but it was slow work understanding each other and they just never held the magic that he felt for Cat Eyes.

Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes also shared a life-altering experience that Tu-Swift’s other friends could not really fathom — being torn from family and thrown into a small box. They were both forced to do something for others. Though they had both hated that, they both learned something as well. Tu-Swift had learned much about horses and he had freely told his tale to the Veritas and answered all the questions that anyone asked him: Sooz, Cat Eyes, Many Paths — he would tell anyone who asked. In fact, he rather enjoyed the attention.

Cat Eyes had learned something about this strange new way of communicating using the “Drawings that Talk” and they were working together to understand the small bit of such drawings that they had. But when Tu-Swift asked her mundane and seemingly easy questions about her time with the Z-Lotz, she would often get a faraway look in her eyes, say something vague and then ask him another question. It piqued his curiosity because she recalled some things in extreme detail such as the very large dwelling within the Walled City where she lived for several years. But when he asked her whether she had her own partition, she claimed she couldn’t recall.

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Tu-Swift found himself slightly suspicious. If she wasn’t being honest about her memory, maybe she just made up the tale of the other tribe of Veritas. Yet, he felt sure that story was true. He wanted to go on an expedition to see such for himself.

Many children, having been stolen from their own tribe would become fearful and timid. Tu-Swift however, perhaps because he had an active role in his own escape, felt as though he desperately needed to learn more about the world. If there were things such as People Who Steal Children, and Killing Sticks — things that could tear his family apart and tear his tribe apart — things that he had never known about, he wanted to learn as much as possible about as many things as possible. And the Veritas over the Twin Peaks intrigued him. Perhaps they also had Killing Sticks — or even more powerful weapons. Or, yet another way of communicating.

In wanting to learn more about the Veritas of Cat Eyes, Tu-Swift was hardly alone. As the tribe discussed trying to reconnect with this lost tribe, nearly everyone wanted to do it, but they were also much moved by the words of Cat Eyes who had described that people had died in the past trying to find their way back. Though abducted young, Cat Eyes was sure that she had not been taken over this melting glacier. She had been strapped on the back of a horse and had caught random glimpses of woods and fields. From the tale of Shadow Walker, as confirmed by his companions, the People Who Steal Children are exceptionally bad at hiding their tracks. That makes for a curious dilemma. Why did these Veritas not try to find Cat Eyes when she was stolen?

It was argued that, of course, such a rescue party — perhaps several — may have followed them and fallen into a trap. Cat Eyes had no way to know. They could not solve the mysteries until they had a chance to dialogue with these Veritas of the mountain, but no-one could find a good plan to get there. Essentially, the same dozen people had met three times and talked themselves in the same circles.

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Now, they sat for a time in reflective silence. While in silence, Jaccim approached their circle and caught the eye of Tu-Swift. Jaccim gestured for him to come over. Tu-Swift glanced at Cat Eyes and wordlessly asked her to accompany him. Jaccim and Tu-Swift could each make themselves understood to the other, but it took time. It would be more efficient with Cat Eyes there to translate. Jaccim realized, of course, that Tu-Swift was no longer his captive. In many ways, their roles were reversed though Jaccim was free to roam among the Veritas. Tu-Swift was working with Jaccim to construct a suitable place for their horses. Besides the mare & colt that had come with them, another stallion and a mare had found their way to the Veritas. Jaccim had reached the point in training where he could use Tu-Swift who seemed to have an innate talent for rapprochement with the creatures.

The last thing he wanted to do was to impose on Tu-Swift which would remind Tu-Swift and possibly others that Jaccim was of the People Who Steal Children. He never thought of himself that way but he understood others might. He’d rather be known as someone who could make a contribution. Jaccim therefore asked if they were done with their dialogue for now. He observed nothing was being said. Times of silent reflection were not common among the ROI so he assumed that they were likely “done” but he did not want to be disrespectful of their ways.

Cat Eyes explained to Jaccim the dilemma that they had been discussing and explained that they were thinking silently of how to communicate or reach the Veritas by the Twin Peaks. Jaccim frowned and said, in ROI, “Why not just take the path the ROI take? We could go there on horses once these are trained in a few weeks. We wouldn’t have to steal children.”

Instead of translating into Veritas forTu-Swift’s benefit, Cat Eyes began having an excited conversation with Jaccim in ROI. At last, Cat Eyes told Tu-Swift the good news. Then, she grabbed Jaccim by the arm and brought him into the circle. She explained to everyone that this man knew a way to ride horses into the land of the Veritas who lived near the Twin Peaks. She might find her home or she might find only an empty place, once lived in, but now deserted.

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————————————

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 Do You Draw the Line?

The Orange Man

The Forgotten Field

Tools of Thought: Many Paths

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

We Won the War! We Won the War!

The Walkabout Diaries: Mindwalk

Travels with Sadie: Taking Turns

Bohm Dialogue

Freedom and Local Knowledge

16 Thursday Apr 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, essay, politics, psychology

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autocracy, Democracy, Dictatorship, fascism, freedom, garden, life, nature, politics, truth, USA, writing

Consider the photograph below. Tell me what you see and think about what you infer based on the combination of your perception of the photo and your general knowledge. You might want to jot it down.

Let’s do a similar exercise based on the photograph below. Again, what is your take-away? I’ll give you a hint. I live in the San Diego area and these photos were taken just a couple days ago (early April, 2026) near where I live.

I took the first photo coming out of the grocery store after doing the shopping. What I “saw” pleased me. I “saw” that my car had an empty parking space on both sides. That makes loading the car from the grocery cart easier. My car is the dark Lexus just beyond the large red pick-up truck. I can recognize my car from almost any small portion of it.

I took the second photo on a Wednesday afternoon. It shows me that it’s still sunny out. It also shows that the gardeners have done with the work and left. The last thing they do is to take out to the curb the lawn trash, the garbage can, and the recycling bin. I can’t see the bins, but I can see the shadows of the bins. When the gardeners come, I open the gate to the garden. Since they are now gone, I plan to take the dogs out in the back. I will first have to re-shut the garden gate so they don’t go bounding out of the garden into the street.

There’s very little chance that you would have any way to figure out what these stimuli mean to me in my context and constraints and goals. And that’s okay. You have hundreds of goals, constraints, and habits that I know nothing about.

It would be absurd for me to try to direct your life and it would be equally absurd for you to try to direct mine. Luckily, we live in a free country. Of course, there are some constraints on that freedom. It’s not legal for me to go steal stuff from my neighbors nor is it legal for them to steal things from me. But in many areas, large and small, each of is free to do as we wish. My neighbors might take their own trash cans out to the street and do it on their own schedule.

Not everyone on the planet is lucky enough to live in a free country.

A dictatorship seeks to control everything about your life. They do not take into account your goals, your context, your habits, your preferences, your constraints. They don’t care. They have neither the knowledge nor the desire to put in place controls that will be right for me. They won’t be right for you either. They won’t be right for anyone.

Except themselves. That’s what dictatorships do. They take power in order to control you, enslave you, and steal from you.

And, if they feel like it, they’re perfectly fine shooting you in the face after you wish them a Good day.

——————

Finding the Mustard

The Self-Made Man

Author Page

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Travels with Sadie Teamwork

The Walkabout Diaries Natural Variation

Absolute is Not Just a Vodka

Dick-Taters

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myth of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field.

An Open Sore from Hell

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

Imagine All the People

Lion Slayer & Eagle Eyes Return

13 Monday Apr 2026

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

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America, Democracy, empathy, fantasy, fiction, leadership, legends, management, myths, politics, power, story, strategy, tactics, USA, Veritas, writing

Although Lion Slayer had not specifically been tested or trained the way that Eagle Eyes had been, since he was a human being, he could read the excitement on the visage of Eagle Eyes as she crouched down, turned back and scurried back toward him.

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“What did you see? What’s there?” asked Lion Slayer.

“I saw an old friend. The Mountain of Twin Peaks. We are only two days from our Center Place. Sorry, I mean…well, the Center Place of the Veritas. Who knows? Perhaps we will soon see all our friends. Let me return to the crest and scan the horizon for trouble for a while. If all looks well, we should continue our journey.”

“I pray to soon see once again Hudah Salem and that she is well. And, for Fleet-of-Foot as well.”

Soon, they both lay on their bellies at the crest and scanned the land below them for any signs of trouble. It occurred to Eagle Eyes that Lion Slayer was unlikely to see something that escaped her own eyes, but she kept that to herself. And, she could well be wrong. Just because she could see details and patterns that escaped most people did not prove he was incapable of recognizing patterns that she could not see. After all, he had spent years seeing patterns in a different environment than she had. He might well see dangers that she would have missed. As Shadow Walker discovered, a snake may find you by your heat. She imagined for a moment being a snake finding Lion Slayer by his heat. That line of though, for some odd reason, reminded her that Lion Slayer looked strong and handsome.

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After a time, they glanced at each other, smiled, and nodded to signal their agreement that it was time to move forward. Though they had spotted no trouble, because they were visible on this downslope for a good distance in many directions, they moved only when the wind stirred and kept from moving in lock-step. Soon, they reached the cover of a large wood. They entered the forest in good spirits. Eagle Eyes had reassured Lion Slayer that they would very soon reach lands that she was intimately familiar with.

“If we’re lucky,” she claimed, “we may make tomorrow night’s feast!

————————————————————

Meanwhile, Trunk of Tree had somehow convinced himself that he would make a better leader than Many Paths. Try as he might, he could not convince others to share this opinion. All he did as he sought out support was to distance himself from others and encourage them to distrust him. Prior to his questioning of Many Paths, he had actually been popular and well-respected among the Veritas, both for his strength and for his not inconsiderable military instincts. But this campaign, he reflected, is going very badly for me. He brooded on his failure and recalled that ALT-R had used POND MUD in his various schemes. As he paced back and forth along a line of wild blueberries, he turned the problem this way and that. Aloud, he said, “Who can be my POND MUD?”

mudface

As chance would have it, Many Paths had come with Easy Tears to pick some blueberries and overheard his odd question. Preoccupied as he was, Trunk of Tree did not notice their presence. Many Paths found herself tempted to keep around the bend out of sight to see whether Trunk of Tree would say anything else. But she felt a mild dishonesty fringed such an action so she playfully announced, “Well, met, Trunk of Tree. I don’t think that things ended well for POND MUD, nor for ALT-R either. But I am sorry if you are mourning him. I felt bad that we lost both of them to the forces of greed and deception. In the end, it was as though they were the spawn of The Orange Man.”

Trunk of Tree glanced back and forth between the two young maids and his cheeks reddened. “Well, I’m not really mourning him. I was just curious — do you know anything about their friendship? I mean, I don’t see why POND MUD did whatever ALT-R said. Do you understand it?”

“Not fully,” answered Many Paths truthfully. “I did find out that POND MUD somehow got it in his head — well, because ALT-R told him so — that ALT-R had saved his life. Nothing could be further from the truth. I am almost certain that ALT-R tricked POND MUD into getting in the quicksand in the first place. And he could easily have pulled him out with a vine or brach or rope, but he made POND MUD really scared and convinced him he had to literally put his face in the mud in order to get out.”

“So….? Did you set him straight?” asked Trunk of Tree.

“I tried to. I think many people told him the same thing. But he kept asking more people. He was looking for a certain answer — that ALT-R had saved his life. But no-one else thought so. That just made him — somehow — believe ALT-R … harder? Is that the word? As though he insisted on hanging on to this false belief. I don’t fully understand that part.”

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The three of them began silently partaking of the delicious berries. After a time, Many Paths said, “Have you ever started to lose your balance and then the harder you try to right yourself, the more out of balance you become? It felt a little bit like that. POND MUD couldn’t help himself and when he did, he began to feel guilty — as though he were betraying his friend ALT-R to even consider whether he had been telling the truth. Ironic, eh? ALT-R was using him — abusing him really. But whenever POND MUD thought along those lines, he felt guilty so … so he was more peaceful inside to just believe the lies of ALT-R. I don’t really know, Trunk of Tree, but that is my surmise.”

“How stupid of POND MUD!” exclaimed Trunk of Tree, a trifle too loudly, it seemed to Many Paths.

“Indeed,” answered Many Paths. “I feel sorry for him. I keep wondering what I could have said to allow him to see the truth that was staring him in the face.”

Trunk of Tree got a faraway look in his eye. “Perhaps you didn’t properly use the Rings of Empathy. Maybe…just maybe it takes actual physical strength to force insight onto someone.”

Easy Tears frowned and tilted her head at that comment. Many Paths gave a sardonic smile. “You might be right, Trunk of Tree. I do not have such an understanding from She Who Saves Many Lives. It’s not…It’s just a ring. Well, seven of them. I use them to … connect with people; not control them. I have never tried to use them in the way that you propose.”

“Exactly. You’ve never even tried. That’s the problem with women. You and She Who Saves Many Lives aren’t using the true power of the rings. If a man had them — a man who had power in his heart and soul and body, he could make people see the truth. That’s why I think I should be leader. I would not be afraid to use the power of the rings.”

tornado on body of water during golden hour

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Many Paths reached into the crevice between her breasts and pulled on a leather thong. Out through the neck of her tunic a small leather pouch popped. “Well, let’s try your experiment then. Here. Easy Tears is enjoying those blueberries. As am I. But here, borrow the rings and see whether you can convince her they are no good.”

“What? You can do that? You would do that? You would give me the Rings of Empathy? You’re a fool, but thank you.” He held out his hand and Many Paths plonked down the pouch into Trunk of Trees ample hand. “I’m not giving them to you. I’m lending them. Have a go.”

Trunk of Tree could hardly believe his good fortune. He had plotted and schemed to obtain the Rings of Empathy and Many Paths had given them to him. He thought: I can get everything now. He held all the rings in his hands and begin concentrating as he intoned, “Easy Tears, you do not like the blueberries. You hate them in fact. You will give all of yours to me.”

Easy Tears began trembling. She fell to the ground and muttered in a strange voice, “I love blueberries. Oh, no, I hate blueberries. I love them. I hate them. No, no. The power of the ring is too strong. Oh, they are burning me. The blueberries are setting me on fire. Oh, no!” She began rolling uncontrollably on the ground.

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Many Paths could see that Easy Tears was convulsing with silent laughter. Many Paths quickly knelt down beside her and whispered into the ear of Easy Tears “Don’t humiliate him. Break it to him gently.”

Trunk of Tree held his hands high and shouted with joy. “You See. You see. I can harness the magic of the Rings.”

Easy Tears was laughing so hard now that her face was wet with tears and she couldn’t catch her breath.

Many Paths considered joining in the fun and leading on Trunk of Tree. In some fundamental way, that would be cruel. Wasn’t it just as wrong to bully Trunk of Tree with her superior insight into human nature as it would be if he used his superior strength to bully someone? Among many possibilities she considered that she wanted to sow doubt in his mind quickly but also gently. “Do you remember, Trunk of Tree, that wrestling trick you taught me when we were kids? I think you called it “willow wand”? Is that right? And the harder someone rushed at you…”

“Why are you asking about wrestling?” sneered Trunk of Tree. Did you see how I bent her mind with these rings? I don’t understand why you never tried it. Or, maybe you did but you’re not strong enough to make it work.”

Many Paths sighed.

“Trunk of Tree,” she began, and noted that a hint of exasperation had crept into her voice. She tried to concentrate on what she admired about Trunk of Tree and spoke again, this time with genuine affection. “Trunk of Tree, you know what a great jokester Easy Tears is and how she has facility to fool others with play acting. Right?”

“What are you saying? That she faked it? That was a real curse. Look at her even now, she writhes in pain. I am sorry, Easy Tears. I didn’t know how powerful I would be with the rings.”

“Oh, Trunk of Tree,” chuckled Easy Tears, “You went along with my play-acting splendidly. I think we may have really fooled Many Paths there for a moment. Right, Many Paths? Admit it. You thought, just for a moment that maybe they really were magic. Come on. Admit it.”

Many Paths nodded and smiled. Easy Tears had some brilliant thoughts. She thought: This way, I can ‘take the fall’ for the joke and save Trunk of Tree’s pride, provided only he’s smart enough to play along. “You did. You did. For a moment there, you two had me going. What’s that sound? Drums. Listen. Two of our own approach. It’s Lion Slayer and Eagle Eyes. They’ve returned. Let’s go hear their tale.”

Many Paths turned and ran toward the Center Place of the Veritas, deftly snatching her pouch with the Seven Rings of Empathy out of Trunk of Tree’s hand before he could even react. Soon, Easy Tears and Trunk of Tree were running behind her, eager to hear what news they had brought. At least for now, Trunk of Tree’s thirst for power seemed to her to have evaporated like a morning mist under the rising sun. Many Paths felt happy and grateful but for some reason, a seemingly random thought came to her:

“Winter is coming.”

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Author Page on Amazon.

The Orange Man.

The First Ring of Empathy

Con-Con Man’s Special Friend

A Query on Quislings

The Update Problem

The Stopping Rule

Satire Slain; Fans Mourn Death of Genre

What About the Butter Dish?

Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

My Cousin Bobby

The Walkabout Diaries:

Travels with Sadie

Donny Takes a Blue Ribbon in Spelling

Imagine All the People…

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Fish Have No Word for Water

Myths of the Veritas: When Eagles Return

10 Friday Apr 2026

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

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collaboration, communication, cooperation, Democracy, empathy, fiction, honesty, leadership, legends, life, lying, myths, politics, stories, story, teamwork, truth, USA, Veritas, writing

Though the winged creature was hooded, Many Paths stretched her hand forth slowly and carefully so as not to startle the raptor away. As she did so, she imitated the screes of joy the eagles sang when they rode the air high above. She hoped that would work. It seemed to help to train the wolves. She missed them too! So many of her favorite people gone — and at her suggestion. To the task at hand, she ordered herself.

Photo by Flo Maderebner on Pexels.com

It occurred to her at just this moment that perhaps the eagles were not singing for joy at all. Maybe they were exchanging information about the location of prey below! Or, maybe they were arguing about whose turn it was to have first go at devouring the body of the unlucky rabbit or mouse. Here I am, she chuckled, named Many Paths and still jumping to conclusions and taking the first line of thought that arises.

What else might they be? What do people do? People speak of things far beyond their immediate concerns. Do the animals? Do they tell each other stories? Make promises? Do they apologize? Do they try to trick each other? Well, they certainly do that!

Even as her mind raced about the challenges of cooperating with animals of a different species, her hand still slid steadily and smoothly to the target and she deftly undid the small knots. Now, she slowly withdrew her hand and murmured warmly to the raptor on her arm.

“Thank you, mighty eagle, for this word from afar.”

Photo by Anthony on Pexels.com

Many Paths recognized the cloth even before it was fully unrolled: the shred was from Eagle Eyes! The two of them had travelled together to gather the rare indigo gentian which Eagle Eyes had used to dye part of her smock.

Many Paths felt a sudden pull of connection to Eagle Eyes as she felt the cloth. She held it close and drew breath in through her nostrils. Perhaps it was only imagination but she caught the scent of Eagle Eyes. Something else was much stronger though! Soot. Fire. As she looked more closely, she could see that a tiny section of the cloth had been burned!

She of Many Paths felt that she had to share this new information with the tribe … and soon. First, she wanted to think what it might signify. Many Paths frowned. She wished that Eagle Eyes might have somehow drawn a map — possibly even including the positions of all of the companions of Eagle Eyes. She couldn’t tell whether Shadow Walker or Tu-Swift were all right. Why couldn’t she include cloth from them too…or their signs. She recalled with a smile the map that She Who Saves Many Lives had given her for their test for the First Ring of Empathy. But of course, that map was much too large to expect an eagle to carry very far.

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Many Paths strode toward the feast and tried to frame how she would present this. On the one hand, it was good news, but the news was ambiguous and incomplete. The fire part didn’t seem positive, but it was hard to tell. Too bad, she thought, that eagles couldn’t carry a better and more complete map. But the wolves could! Maybe they would bring more complete news. She felt a pang of affection for them as well as loss. She missed the wolves. Immediately, a much stronger feeling of missing flowed over her, for everyone, but especially Tu-Swift and Shadow Walker. She sighed and felt a big hollow inside, but then, the image of Shadow Walker came quite clearly to mind. She felt as though she could almost hear him talking though it seemed likely he was far away. The mind does play funny tricks sometimes, thought Many Paths, but it seems like he is telling me that my idea is right; we could communicate over distances by sending maps and symbols. Sounds a bit crazy, but why not? The wolves can track by a scent from something that is no longer there. What if we humans could learn to put a whole host of marks and scents on paper and then send it quickly via the wolves? She arrived at the feast and mentally placed this idea up on a branch of a tree she kept for “Interesting ideas to be thought about later.” For now it was time to reassure the people and tell them what she knew. For a split second, she considered the idea to pretend that she had simply “foreseen” that Eagle Eyes was all right and that there had been a fire. People might begin to believe she was magic and that could help focus the people to a purpose when the need became great. She could even weave a story that involved the “Magic Rings of Empathy.”

Now she smiled at the folly of that course. If she were successful in this lie — because exaggerating one’s own powers is always a lie — it would only encourage her to make even more outrageous lies in the future. The people cannot be led on a wise path with lies. That seems obvious.

Why then did she come up with such absurd courses of action? Maybe it was to continue to strengthen her resolve to do what was best for her people. For each time such a plot surfaced, at least so far, she had resisted the temptation. Mainly, she saw it was the wrong thing to do. Imagine that your eyes began lying to your toes about the position of a stone. Imagine that your mouth lied to your stomach and your hand lied to your mouth.

Even from a selfish standpoint, such exaggerations of her powers would be quite dangerous. She could be found out and lose all credibility with the tribe. Suppose someone believed that the Magic of Remote Sight arose from the Rings alone. Someone might contrive to steal those rings, with or without her fingers attached! If she shared the actual evidence she had, a shred of cloth, the whole tribe could apply their wisdom about likely interpretations. But if, instead, she presented her interpretation as fact, people could not think straight nor generate the full set of likely possibilities.

Beyond that, Many Paths knew that she could never fully enjoy and participate in the feast or in talking with her tribe mates if she knew she were telling them a lie. She would be — forever alone — even if they never found out. She would know she was lying. She would know. And that would put up a wall between them. No matter what someone said to her, she would have to “check to see” whether her answer would betray her. A moment’s lapse of ethics, thought She of Many Paths, could lead to a lifetime of cover-ups and further lies.

Instead, she took her place among warm greetings and admiration. She let it be known that she had some interesting news to share around the fire after their meal of venison and corn on the cob.

selective focus photography of grilled corns

Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

————————————————

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Orange Man: A Parable of Lying and Greed

The First Ring of Empathy (The Start of Book One)

Fire and Feast (The Start of Book Two)

An Essay on How we sometimes Confuse the Label with the Thing

At Least He’s Our Monster

Corn on the Cob (An Essay on Mindfulness and Gratitude)

Come Together Right Now

The Isle of Right

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Truth Train

A Lot is Not a Little

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

The Crows and Me

Guernica

Travels with Sadie: Teamwork

The Walkabout Diaries: Mind Walk

Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Fifteen Properties

The “Not-See” Party

Join the Throng and Sing the Song

27 Friday Mar 2026

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Democracy, life, music, poem, poetry, politics, truth, writing

Stolen files

Strong denials

Murderous lies of pedophiles

And there were promises for all

All along the nonsense wall

The dreams of Dreamers

Screaming in the lethal night

While crusaders stealing

Trailing long red streamers

Illegally dealing

Pretending to fight for the Right

The wheel will turn

The time will come

The music will hum

The fire will burn

Christmas decorations all blood red

Gardens of roses ground to dust

Pastures of plenty planted with lust

Prosperity drizzled and died

Perfidy raged unchecked instead

Hate reared its ugly orange head

Revealing the cancerous rot inside

And all around this hellscape pranced

The greedy few who never glanced

At those who died from bullets & bombs

Tearing the infants from pleading moms

The wheel will turn

The time will come

The music will hum

The fire will burn

Thrashing our friends

While hugging the thugs

The sicko prances and pretends

Apes Mussolini with mindless mugs

Your taxes all frittered

Away on a whim

Cajoles the embittered

It’s all for him

Thousands of times he lied and he lied

And real people died

Thousands and thousands for the price of his pride

He cares not a whit

Nor even a half

He has not a wit

Nor even a half

His words are clouds that wisp in the wind

His actions alone write his own epitaph

There isn’t a virtue that he hasn’t sinned

He licks at the hooves of a gold-painted calf

The wheel will turn

The time will come

The music will hum

The fire will burn

The people awake

Their blinders they shed

The people this March

Their shackles they shake

Prove power instead

The people will march

Lady Liberty—her torch at last is lit

The bell of freedom rings the land

The music plays from every band

The drummer drums on every kit

The watchfire burns

Everyone learns

Power is ours if only we take it

America works if only we make it

Come and join in joyous song

Come and join the millions strong

Come and be where you belong

Come and help us right the wrong

Come and join in joyous song

The Ailing King of Agitate

Absolute is not just a Vodka

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

Essays on America: The Game

An Open Sore from Hell

Myths of the Veritas: Many Pains for Many Paths

23 Monday Mar 2026

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

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Bohm Dialogue, Democracy, dialogue, discussion, faith, fiction, leadership, life, politics, story, truth

Many Paths awoke in a start and saw that all around her, there was a rosy glow. Why? Her heart raced when a fire-image crept into her mind. She scrambled up and peered outside. Ah. The rosy glow was merely from an unusually beautiful sunrise. She smiled at herself, happy that the alarm had been false. She looked down at her right hand and noticed the studded club in her hand. She had no recollection of having grabbed it.

Many Paths suddenly shook her head. She shocked herself to realize that there was a small part of her that was actually sorry it hadn’t been an emergency of some sort.

{Translator’s Note}: The Veritas were apparently all taught from earliest years to acknowledge seemingly contradictory feelings and then, when conditions permitted, to track down what was going on. It was considered very important not to be living with contradictions of any kind. Factual contradictions, value contradictions, and even emotional contradictions needed to be sorted.

Failure to resolve or at least understand such conflicts was thought to almost certainly cause problems. From a contradiction of facts, anything can be “proven.” A contradiction of values can lead to vacillation — which is inefficient — as well as breaking trust with others. The Veritas considered the breaking of trust to be a very serious crime. Their whole society, like any free society, was based on trust. Breaking that trust is tantamount to attempting to destroy society.

A contradiction in feelings did not mean that the tribe member needed to decide which feeling was “correct.” Though they apparently did not have a modern knowledge of anatomy, they were well aware that many parts of our body have muscles arranged in antagonistic pairs. Often feelings are arranged the same way. They considered it important to understand the origins of feelings and then to choose which one to act on based on probable outcomes.

Many Paths quickly realized that a true emergency, a visible enemy, even a necessary evacuation would allow her to do something. And, doing something–anything–would be more pleasant than this incessant waiting. And there were the mutterings. As the days wore on, people looked at her differently. She did not hear any open questioning of her leadership, but when she drew near, she could tell that conversations fell silent or switched to “pleasant” topics. If she were leading them in active battle, they would consider her a more active leader, and she herself would feel as though she was somehow “helping” her tribe reconnect. And, she especially missed Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift. Not knowing whether they were dead or alive or wounded somewhere — these led to extremely unpleasant images and feelings.

She prepared herself for her day and let it be known that she wished to have a council fire and dialogue that evening. Rather than pretend that everything was wonderful and that her leadership was unquestioned, she thought it better to encourage others to share their ideas about what else might be done.

Original Artwork by Pierce Morgan

The rosy glow of the morning gave way to a sweltering day of hazy sunshine. After her own chores were done, she decided to walk among the people and pitch in with their chores and discover what was on their minds individually. She noticed Stone Chipper and his son, Horse Viewer headed back toward the river where Horse Viewer had been the first among the Veritas to see a person standing atop a horse. She thought it worthwhile to quiz them gently when they were back at the precise place where Horse Viewer had first seen those Who Steal Children. Sometimes, people can recall that which first escaped them when they are once again in similar circumstances. Anyway, it would be cool near the creek and Many Paths knew there was a small nearby lake with Pickerel and Arrowhead. She judged it was likely too early to gather the Pickerel seeds but the Arrowhead tubers could be harvested any time.

They walked in silence for a time. At last they neared the creek and Many Paths said, “Horse Viewer, can you show me where you stood when you first saw the man on the horse?”

A large, radiant smile lit the small boy’s face. He loped over to a spot near the outlet to the lake. He turned back to the adults, jumped up and down a few times. “Right here! Here’s the spot! I was looking across to there.”

Many Paths strode up to him quickly. “Can you do me a favor, Horse Viewer? Can you close your eyes, please?” The boy complied as Many Path continued, “Now, can you picture anything else?”

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“Well,” said the boy without opening his eyes, “there was a kind of rope or strap coming from the mouth of the horse to the hands of the man who stood atop the horse. Although…he didn’t really stand on the horse. He stood on something on the side of the horse. And, the man…the man was wearing a black, hairy mask on the lower part of his face. The man … the man kicked the horse. I think he kicked the horse with his heel into the side of the horse. That’s all I remember.” The boy opened his eyes and stared at Many Paths.

“Thank you, Horse Viewer. Your memory is good. Can you think of anything else?”

The boy closed his eyes again, but opened them soon. “No, not really. Except…I couldn’t really see the man very well, but he was … stiff?”

Many Paths glanced at Stone Chipper and back to the boy. “What do you mean by ‘stiff’?”

Horse Viewer frowned. “I mean. He was riding so fast! He should have been scared or happy or … something… but his face was blank and his body was … stiff … as though he felt neither joy nor fear in riding such a wondrous beast.”

Many Paths nodded. “You are a good observer, Horse Viewer. If you think of anything else, let me or your father know.” Now, help find some good stones for arrowheads. We may need many more soon. Meanwhile, I will also be gathering arrowheads. She smiled and gestured toward the margin of the lake.

Stone Chipper said, “Many Paths. I also have something to say.”

“Yes? What is it?”

Stone Chipper looked at Many Paths and said, “I want you to know that I think you are a good leader.” He paused. “I do not think it’s your fault we were attacked at feast. And I don’t think it’s your fault that our search party has not yet returned. And we all of us thought sending a small search party was most appropriate. I don’t think it made sense to send a larger party. We don’t know yet what we are dealing with. As my son said, these people are not … they are not Veritas … and we do not yet know how they think or what other weapons they may have. They lie. We know that much from Friend of Squirrel. To pretend to trade in peace and then attack? They are not good people, I think. They are a great danger to us all. This is not the time for rash action. When you chip a stone properly, you must turn it this way and that. You must chip carefully or you will break the stone so that nothing good is left. I have made such a mistake of too much haste myself. Then, I must start over. We don’t want to break the tribe. That’s all. That’s what I think.”

Many Paths sighed, nodded, and smiled grimly at Stone Chipper. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate that. She took both his hands in hers, looked in his eyes and said, “you are a fine maker of arrowheads, sir, and you are raising a good son. We will see how long it takes me to gather arrowheads and we may or may not walk back to the Center Place together. But for now I take your leave.” She then strode to the side of the lake. She removed her moccasins, and began wading into the cold, refreshing water.

—————————————————————

By late afternoon, Stone Chipper and Horse Viewer had gathered a heavy bag full of stones to be chipped. Likewise, Many Paths had a large number of Arrowhead tubers. They decided to return together to the Center Place. They had not gone far though when they came across Trunk of Tree who seemed to have been waiting for them though he seemed surprised to see the three of them together.

“Hello, Many Paths! Have the three of you been collecting stones?”

Stone Chipper answered, “Well, I have been collecting stones along with my son, Horse Viewer, as you now call him. Many Paths has been gathering for tonight’s feast.”

“Oh. Interesting. Gathering food. May I talk with you privately, Many Paths?”

She glanced at Stone Chipper who shrugged. Many Paths, said, “Yes. What is on your mind.” Trunk of Tree looked back at Many Paths but said nothing until the other two were well down the path and out of earshot.

“Many Paths, you know I support you totally, right?”

“Well, thank you Trunk of Tree. I do appreciate that.”

Trunk of Tree, chewed on his lip for a moment. “Well, yes. The thing is, some of the braves grow impatient. They wish to send out a larger party. They say you are afraid to do that because you’re afraid to find out that Shadow Walker is dead. And Tu-Swift. As long as we all stay here, we will never know and you can pretend they are still alive.”

Many Paths drew back. “What? I — no, I do not think either of them are dead, but if they are, I will get over it. I do not counsel sending more people out until we learn more from those who went to discover more about this enemy. I am not afraid of finding out they are dead. I appreciate your support, but …. “

Trunk of Tree stopped in his tracks and turned toward Many Paths, laying his thick hands upon her upper arms and turning her toward him. “If you truly appreciate my support, why not show it?”

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Many Paths frowned. “I just said that I appreciated your support. You puzzle me.”

“Many Paths, you are beautiful, but unused to the ways of men. I can show you those ways and you will be a better leader for it. I like you. You know I do. But it is time to acknowledge that Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift are not coming back. You need a family. I can provide that family, if you favor me. Let’s just try a handful of kisses and see how we like it. If either of us doesn’t like it, you can find someone else. But meanwhile….” Trunk of Tree tightened his grip on her arms and drew his body close. He closed his eyes and attempted to plant a kiss on her mouth. She quickly raised both hands above her head and brought them down quickly on the thick forearms of Trunk of Tree. She thus escaped his grip, but only momentarily. “NO!” she screamed. “We talked about this already. I am for Shadow Walker. He’s only been gone a short while. He will return. He’s your friend, or so we both thought. What is with you? I thought you were supporting me! Trying to force a kiss is not supporting me!”

“I know! I know! I’m sorry. You’re just so beautiful. It is hard to resist.”

“Trunk of Tree, you are strong. You can do difficult things. So you can leave me alone. I do not want to complicate…it would be such an absurdly bad idea. What do you think would happen?”

“I think you should raise children with me. I am strong and I could be leader but I would listen to you for advice. We could lead this way together. Strength of body and strength of mind together. No-one would then question us.”

Many Paths lidded her eyes, set her jaw and looked at him with dagger eyes. “I want people to question me. These are difficult times. I want everyone’s input, but I do not in any way want to raise a family with you. Indeed, I don’t wish to have children now! For what possible purpose? So that they can be stolen away by the horrible People Who Steal Children? If you object to the way I am handling things, then bring it up at the Dialogue after dinner and quit trying to force yourself on me. No. No. NO!” Trunk of Tree again tried to kiss her and this time Many Paths swung her elbow across his nose, breaking it.

Original Artwork by Pierce Morgan

Trunk of Tree had now grown angry and felt for a moment like breaking every bone in her body. But he saw that Stone Chipper must have heard their argument and quickly head back down the path toward them. Horse Viewer was close behind. Trunk of Tree grimaced and placed what he thought was a bland, pleasant smile upon his face. “Oh, hello, Stone Chipper. Sorry, we got a little excited at the prospect of killing the People Who Steal Children.”

Many Paths slowly shook her head and looked at Trunk of Tree with great disappointment. “We’re done talking, Stone Chipper. It’s time to go back now so that we can feast on some Arrowheads.” She spun on her heel and begin striding down the path. Stone Chipper looked sternly at Trunk of Tree and let him pass so that he could keep an eye on him.

——————————————-

Original Artwork by Zoe Colier

After a wonderful feast, capped off with herbal tea, most of the tribe gathered for another Dialogue. Many Paths began.

“As you know, we all agreed to send out a small search party both to find and return Tu-Swift and also to find out more about the People Who Steal Children. They have not yet returned. I am hopeful they will return soon with knowledge and with Tu-Swift. But I also understand that it is frustrating for the rest of us to feel as though we are doing nothing. Let us together once again contemplate what else we might do.”

Everyone was silent for a time. At last, Trunk of Tree spoke. “I know I speak for many who are afraid to speak for themselves. We believe the search party is dead or captured. We have learned nothing about these People Who Stand on Horses. We can stay here and do nothing. Or we can go and seek our revenge. I am strong and a warrior. I do not like sitting here like women simply gathering food and waiting to be attacked. I think it is time to consider a new leader.”

She Who Saves Many Lives spoke next. “And who might that leader be?”

Silence.

Trunk of Tree spoke then. “If no-one else will step up, I will do it. I will find these People Who Stand on Horses and will kill them all.”

Stone Chipper spoke next. “It is not true that we are simply gathering food and doing nothing else. Just today, I gathered many more stones that I can chip for more arrowhead and spearheads. It will take some time, but not a time overly long. And meanwhile, we all know that we have made it more difficult in many ways and in many places for People Who Stand on Horses to attack us. And, now we are all wary. They fooled us before. They pretended to come in peace. We will not be fooled twice. I, for one, stand with Many Paths.”

There was a general murmur of assent.

After much talk of many paths and Many Paths, She Who Saves Many Lives spoke again. “I am very curious, Trunk of Tree. Just this morning, I heard you also support Many Paths. Now you speak against her. What made you change your mind?”

“I thought about it more. That’s all!” Trunk of Tree said.

His voice held too much anger to signal thinking so She Who Saves Many Lives persisted in her questions. “Does your change have anything to do with your falling down and breaking your nose?”

Trunk of Tree burst out angrily, “I never said I fell! I…I mean.… I don’t know how I broke my nose. It doesn’t matter!”

She Who Saves Many Lives laughed gently. “I find that a bit hard to believe. I am a woman who has seen many winters. No doubt, I may sometimes now find that a fly has bitten me when I did not notice. But even I would be quite sure to know when and how I broke my nose. If you do not wish to speak the truth in our deliberations, then, do not speak at all.”

“What?! All right. You want to know the truth? Many Paths broke my nose.”

She Who Saves Many Lives smiled slightly. “Really? And why was that?”

Trunk of Tree blushed scarlet. “She tricked me. She got mad because I told her the truth: that Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift are dead. She didn’t like that.”

She Who Saves Many Lives spoke even more softly. “Have you seen the bodies?”

Trunk of Tree grumbled. “No. Of course not. But why aren’t they back? Everyone knows they’re dead!”

She Who Saves Many Lives spoke again, “I do not think they are dead. What do you think, Many Paths?”

“I feel very strongly that neither of them are dead. But…I do feel that both Tu-Swift and Shadow Walker have been injured. I do not know for sure, but that is how I feel. I know it sounds a little odd, but when I touch the Rings, I feel as though I can connect with both of them. I feel as though they are alive. But that is not proof. I would suggest that we think about other defensive measures.

“I think we should all sleep a sound sleep tonight and we can discuss tomorrow whether we want a new leader. As for me, I cannot for certain foresee the future. I do not believe any leader may guarantee what will happen. Not She Who Saves Many Lives. Not Trunk of Tree. Not me. No-one. So, I have to ask myself what does it mean when someone claims that they know what they do not know?”

A-OC raised another question. “Is it true what Trunk of Tree said? Did you break his nose?”

Many Paths glanced at She Who Saves Many Lives. “It is true that I broke his nose. Yes. It is not true that I tricked him or that I broke his nose because he said my love and my brother were both dead. Saying this did not make me angry because I believe he is simply wrong. And, one day, we will know the truth of their destiny.”

P-OC next spoke, “Then why did you break his nose?”

Many Paths stared at Trunk of Tree. “Trunk of Tree: you and I worked together on many things. We are friends, I think. Why don’t you tell the tribe why you think I broke your nose?”

Trunk of Tree shut his lips together tightly and folded his arms across his chest. “I will tell you what I think. I think I should be leader. I am strong and decisive. I will lead you to a victorious … victory. I will … we will steal all their things and be richer. That’s what I think and it doesn’t matter why you broke my nose. Let’s vote tomorrow morning as Many Paths suggests. Or does she perhaps want to suggest another twenty things we should think about instead?”

Trunk of Tree stomped off. The rest of the tribe looked back to Many Paths.

Many Paths looked at each person and spoke softly. “So be it. We shall vote in the morning. Peace be to all.” She raised her voice and cupped her hands aside her mouth as she added, “And peace to you, Trunk of Tree.”

Stone Chipper added in a loud whisper, “Or, as we may now call him, ‘Trunk of Tree with Broken Branch’.”

Original Artwork by Pierce Morgan

——————————————————-

Books by the Author. All are available on Amazon in both paperback and ebook.

The Winning Weekend Warrior focuses on the ‘mental game’ for all sports: strategy, tactics, and self-talk with examples from golf, tennis, softball, etc.

Turing’s Nightmares describes various possible scenarios of the future of technology — especially robotics and Artificial Intelligence.

Fit in Bits suggests many ways to work more fun and exercise into daily activities such as traveling, sitting in meetings, shopping, playing with kids, etc.

Tales from an American Childhood recounts early experiences and then relates them to contemporary issues and events.

Website with earlier stories, essays, and poems.

Essays on America: Labelism

Essays on America: Where Does Your Loyalty Lie?

Essays on America: The Stopping Rule

Essays on America: The Update Problem

Essays on America: What About the Butter Dish?

Corn on the Cob (An Essay about mindfulness and gratitude)

Come Back to the Light Side

Try the Truth

The Truth Train

The Many Shiny Things

18 Wednesday Feb 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, poetry, politics, psychology

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Democracy, fantasy, fiction, life, poem, poetry, politics, short story, truth, USA, writing

You spy the many shiny things

Along the road to you-know-where.

The whistle of the wind who stings

The stench of burning flesh and hair.

The numbers prove you must be rich!

Why care about the starving child?

Why care for homeless vets in ditch?

Why care if kids are raped, defiled?

The liars all have puffin lips.

Their hair is long; drops straight and gold.

They glare at you with hands on hips;

The lies they spew are eons old.

And yet within your heart of hearts

You feel a teeny prick of guilt.

Your cure is caress their farts.

And lap the floor for blood they’ve spilt.

Just get along and sing their song

Of hatred, lies, and “I-Not-See”!

The rights they wrong to get along;

The stench of their autocracy.

The stench of their autocracy

The stink of dead democracy.

Then wash with white theocracy.

While Coward leads the cowardly.

You thought you’d gain more shiny things

Along that road to you know where.

Instead you kiss their slimy rings

And wash their dirty underwear.

You help to squelch the good and true

Your soul’s a bridge that you have burned.

Betraying true Red, White, and Blue.

A place in hell is all you’ve earned.

The stench of sick autocracy:

It bathes your brain eternally.

You coddled cancer; pay the price.

A gram of courage would’ve been nice.

But you’re too late now.

You’re just another cow—

Another slice of steak,

For Conmen to take.

Author Page

Where Does Your Loyalty?

My Cousin Bobby

The Update Problem

Labelism

An Open Sore from Hell

After All

At Least he’s our Monster

The Stopping Rule

Wednesday

The Game

You Bet Your Life

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Imagine All the People

Roar, Ocean, Roar