Myths of the Veritas: Recipe, Ritual …

16 Monday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, fiction, Veritas

Tags

collaboration, fiction, leader, leadership, legend, myth, story, Veritas

Myths of the Veritas: Recipe, Ritual…

Many Paths muttered to herself, “Perhaps I should rename myself, ‘She Who Walks in Many Circles’.” She glanced down at the ground, still damp from the morning’s rainfall. She chuckled. No, she thought, actually, I’m walking around in the same circle, over and over. I cannot find a way to guarantee that someone won’t betray us. She sighed. Then, her awareness blossomed outwards. She heard voices. Happy voices. Tu-Swift! And, Cat Eyes! Soon, the couple appeared at the edge of the granite-bouldered clearing atop the small mountain where she had come to meditate. They walked hand in hand, smiling. When they saw Many Paths they both waved, sang her name, and embraced her.

Many Paths smiled wanly. “It’s nice to see you. I was just…thinking.”

Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes glanced at each other. Tu-Swift said, “Yes! I imagine so. After all, you have an important meeting to think about! The last thing you need is to talk with your friends!”

“Indeed,” added Cat Eyes “we had come up here to find some of those low bush blueberries to add to our lunch porridge. But we’ll be on our way. Why spoil a perfectly good dish by adding ingredients to it? Best eat everything on its own, wouldn’t you agree?”

Many Paths narrowed her gaze & pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

Tu-Swift said, “Putting different things together just complicates everything. We should eat one thing at a time. As with a song, for instance. Best to stick to one note, sung over and over.”

Many Paths chuckled. “You two are talking nonsense. That wouldn’t be much of a song. And, of course, it makes sense to combine different ingredients for a recipe.”

Many Paths stared at their faces for a moment. “But you know that. You’re … did She Who Saved Many Lives send you by any chance?”

Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes both shook their heads solemnly. “No, she did not,” they said in unison. But beneath their words and expressions, Many Paths sensed a shared joke of some sort.

Many Paths sighed and said, “I suggest you do get some blueberries. There’s a patch, as you well know, right beyond that dead tree. It’s nice to see you both, but I need to … get back to what I was doing.”

Tu-Swift nodded gravely. “Yes! I can see you’ve just about finished making your circular fire pit.” He pointed down to the circle of bare ground Many Paths had clearly been treading. “How about if we help you trample everything for a few minutes and then you can help us pick berries?”

Many Paths shook her head and chuckled. “She Who Saved Many Lives sent you. She did. Did she not? She thinks I need some one of some thing or some one to shake loose my thinking since I have been literally walking in circles and thinking in circles at the same time. Am I right?”

Cat Eyes bit her lip. “You’re right that you’ve been walking in circles. That we can see easily enough for ourselves. I say again though that you’re wrong if you think the Elder Leader sent us here. Neither of us have spoken with her today. As to whether you’ve been thinking in circles, well, that only you can tell.”

Many Paths nodded. “I have been indeed. All right. You win. I’ll tell you the problem and perhaps you two have come across something to help in your reading. Then you can return to the Tribe Mother and say you’ve helped me.”

Shadow Walker appeared at the edge of the clearing. Many Paths glanced over to see him smiling like the sunshine she so desperately missed. She smiled back and said in a tone of accusation and pleasure, “You!”

Shadow Walker strode over quickly and embraced her. He kissed her fondly and said, “Yes! It was me. I love you dearly. But you’ve been as gray as the weather. It’s time for a rainbow instead! The four of us are going to share your problem and see whether we can make some headway. I knew only that you said you were going around in circles with the problem. I didn’t know that you were — literally — going around in circles!”

Many Paths laughed. “I should have known you would be behind this scheme. Well, all right. You know the problem well enough. How do I ensure trust among the people who come from other tribes? Wait. What do you mean by the four of you?”

A strong voice came from behind Many Paths. “My legs needed some exercise so I came up to join you.”

Many Paths smiled at the Elder Leader. “Ah, you are always welcome. If you’re here…. You always seem to show up where you are needed most.”

She Who Saved Many Lives smiled. “I wish that were true. But I did bring a considerable number of hickory nuts to add to the porridge. That’s my contribution. If only we had some honey.”

Shadow Walker held up a wooden bowl filled with honeycomb. He smiled at Tu-Swift who said, “I say that five of us pick some berries and we will have a fine lunch indeed. Then, we can talk of more serious matters.”

“Yes,” said She Who Saved Many Lives. “Serious indeed. But serious need not be grim. I think a pleasurable meal, jointly prepared, and joyfully shared is always a good prelude to serious thinking.”

Cat Eyes added. “Indeed. If we share a meal and everyone brings something which everyone eats, that in itself would build some trust. Would it not?”

Many Paths nodded slowly. “You’re right. Of course. We should begin with a shared meal. I can see much wisdom in that.”

Tu-Swift nodded. “Me too. Speaking of which, I’m hungry! And the Tribe Mother is right. Serious doesn’t mean grim. Recall some of the weapons that we came up with by playing around? Make the meeting festive and joyous, not grim. In the books we’ve been studying lately, there are some suggestions for some rituals that might help as well. I’ll describe some. After lunch. Now, let’s get those blueberries.

Many Paths smiled at her “little” brother. He no longer struck her as little at all. She began to look forward to lunch. She took the Hand of Shadow walker in one hand and that of the Elder Shaman in the other and began walking toward the blueberry patch.

The sun peeked out from the clouds and sparkled on the wet leaves.

The Myths of the Veritas:

The Forgotten Field

The Orange Man

The First Ring of Empathy

Stoned Soup

Three Blind Mice

Index to a Pattern Language for Cooperation and Collaboration

Myths of the Veritas: Recipe…

02 Monday Jan 2023

Posted by petersironwood in fiction, Uncategorized, Veritas

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fiction, legend, life, MOTV, myth, story, Veritas

MOTV – Recipe, Ritual, and Recitation

Shadow Walker wondered whether the sense of foreboding he felt simply reflected the cool, damp weather. He took a deep breath. It felt good so he intentionally calmed himself with more deep breaths and rather than chase after an explanation, which, in his experience often scared explanations away, he determined to be more like a hunter waiting in a blind for the prey to come. He sat on a cold flat rock and let his thoughts drift. As he did so, his eyes chanced upon the Sixth Ring of Empathy — the one that only he and his love, Many Paths, had won. Touching it often seemed to give him comfort and he tried that, grinning as he did so. He immediately felt sunnier. Better, he knew exactly why he had felt morose. Many Paths had been worried for days about the upcoming meeting among the tribes. He had felt left out of her worry. She had not really sought his counsel, and he realized that, so far as he knew, she had not sought anyone’s counsel lately; not even that of her predecessor, She Who Saved Many Lives.

A smile came upon the face of Shadow Walker. A plan came to him and his smile broadened. Confidence returned to his step as he marched back to the Center Place of the Veritas. Immediately upon entering The Sacred Circle, he spied the younger brother of Many Paths, Tu-Swift. He and Cat Eyes spoke quietly and seriously. Beside them on an oaken table, a number of what he now knew to call “books” were spread out in front of them. They were concentrating so intently they failed to see him approach. While all of the Veritas were trained in the ability to walk silently, Shadow Walker had perfected the skill better than anyone else in the tribe. He felt no need to startle his friends, so he announced his presence intentionally. “I see you two are continuing your studies.”

Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes both smiled and moved so as to allow space and offer invitation to Shadow Walker. He smiled back, but rather than join them, he quickly explained his insight and suggestion. They both assented quickly. Cat Eyes nodded vigorously while Tu-Swift said aloud, “Wonderful idea! We’re leaving now. But — are you sure that’s where she is?”

“No, not completely sure. But reasonably sure. If you find her, can you bring her back here? Meanwhile, I’ll see whether She Who Saved Many Lives will join us presently.”

Cat Eyes glanced up at the grey clouds and decided to put the books into boxes and cover them with the rock-weighted rawhide cover. Then, the three dispersed. The youngsters strode off to find Many Paths while Shadow Walker walked over to the cabin of the Elder Shaman. Halfway there, he saw the slightly bent figure of She Who Saved Many Lives walking toward him. He chuckled. Many Paths had several times mentioned how often she had sought to find the Elder and gain her advice only to discover that She Who Saved Many Lives was already en route to her.

Shadow Walker approached and bowed his head slightly out of respect. “Well met, Mother of the Tribe, I had something I wanted to ask you about.”

“Yes, I also think it’s time to help She Who Finds Many Paths to Avoid Asking for Help.”

Shadow Walker was taken aback. “She Who…? Ah, yes. Exactly. But how…?”

“Oh, my, Shadow Walker. Books are not the only things which may be read.” She said this in such a kindly tone and with such a twinkle in her eye, that Shadow Walker could do nothing but shake his head and chuckle again. “Many Paths has cautioned me that you can read minds. Now, I see she is right.”

“Would that I could! I cannot read the mind of a tree, but if there has been no rain for days the leaves are all wilting, I know the tree wants water, and so too, do you, as signified by the Rings of Empathy you earned. I should think. It’s not much different with reading people than it is with trees. You and I both know Many Paths is rightly concerned that this upcoming meeting go smoothly. There is a time to keep one’s own counsel, surely, but now, I think, like you, it is time to stir the pot!”

Shadow Walker offered his elbow to the Elder and they slowly made their way back to the Center Place of the Veritas.

————————

Myths of the Veritas:

The Forgotten Field

The Orange Man

The First Ring of Empathy

Stoned Soup

The Tale of the Three Blind Mice

Poetry:

Dance of Billions

Story-Essay:

My Cousin Bobby

Story:

Hot Dog

The Biggest Threat

11 Thursday Aug 2022

Posted by petersironwood in story

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fiction, life, myth, story, truth

On the longest day of the summer, it was their custom to stay awake around the central fire and dialogue. This particular year, they found themselves arguing about which animal was the most dangerous to the tribe.

No, the most dangerous is NOT the seagull.

One spoke: “Crocodile has many teeth and strong jaws. Besides, he can creep silently along, looking much like a floating log until it is too late.”

Another spoke: “True enough. Yet, what of Panther who lies still and unseen upon a tree branch in the night? Then, he pounces with teeth and claws?”

Yet another spoke: “Terrible indeed. But what of Rattlesnake? He can lie unseen in deep grass and though he is small, he injects a poison that can kill? And, there are many more of them than there are Crocodiles or Panthers.”

Photo by Donald Tong on Pexels.com (not a rattlesnake, but you get the idea).

On through the night, one by one, they would bring up dangers to the tribe. At first, they spoke only of animals, but one pointed out the danger of lightening and another of flood. Another spoke of the year without summer and others pointed out the red pox had killed many.

At last, a short time before the sun began to re-emerge over the horizon, and the sky paused on the brink of deciding to stick with the mild pink color or paint a different scene, they began to speak no more, awed into silence by entire sky aflame in a sea of crimson.

And, they all knew.

They all saw it.

They all realized it was more deadly than anything they had discussed before.

And they all realized it was up to them to tame this monster.

Love is life. Hate is death. It’s that simple.

————

Absolute is not just a vodka

Poker Chips

Dick-Taters

The Ailing King of Agitate

Author page on Amazon

Myths of the Veritas: OLIE

14 Tuesday Jun 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Veritas

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Tags

fable, fiction, legend, myth, peace, truth, Veritas

Many Paths & Shadow Walker glanced at each other. Instantly, each saw that the other had also heard the shuffling. Shadow walker continued in the same tone of voice he had been using, being careful not to inflect his voice with any hint of worry or concern. “Perhaps the next persons with whom we should dialog are Tu-Swift, Cat Eyes and her parents, Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns. These are the people who best understand the Z-Lotz.”

Many Paths nodded. “I believe that Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes are going to share their recent findings with us tonight or tomorrow and then, they will be headed back to the library that lies over the mountain. We can talk with them and perhaps accompany them to gather still more information from her parents.”

Shadow Walker replied, “Great. I’ve had enough blackberries anyway.”

They began to stroll off. Once they judged to be far enough away, they split up and stalked back to the blackberry thicket from two sides, like the pincers of a crab or the jaws of a cougar. Weapons drawn, they moved only when the wind stirred.

For his part, Shadow Walker was sure their “mystery guest” was human. At first, he considered that it might be a small child from the Veritas hiding among the old stems of the blackberry bush hoping to overhear some adult talk that could be shared with friends. It would be a secret kind of knowledge and the child would gain status but providing this little seed of truth. His friends would plant that seed in their play activity and eventually try to grow a story, or even a whole moon’s worth of inter-related stories. A smile flitted across his face as he recalled doing this himself. As he re-neared the blackberry bush however, the sounds seemed too loud to be caused by the movements of a child. Whether child or adult or someone in between, the sounds were far too unskilled to be anyone from among the Veritas.

For her part, Many Paths considered a large, clumsy animal to be the most likely cause of the sound. She kept imagining various animals and dismissing them, one by one. At last, she was left with an odd sensation. What is this thing, she wondered. It’s clumsy, large, but … apparently wants to stay hidden. It can’t be a boar who would simply crash out. She noticed the teeny hairs on the back of her neck stood up as though a sudden chill wind stirred.

In a single moment: a scrambling figure in a dark cloak; a trap sprung, the jaws snapped together; scrambling, strong but ineffective struggler; same figure pinned by Shadow Walker while Many Paths stood near with long knife close enough to the stranger’s face that he could not avoid seeing it. “Who are you?” Shadow Walker insisted but the stranger screamed something back that was completely unintelligible. Shadow Walker looked at his adversary more closely and realized that he seemed vaguely familiar. He glanced at Many Paths. “This man is Z-Lotz or at least is dressed as one. This is exactly how the priests dressed. I saw a few on execution day. Some “priests” making a sport out of killing innocent people.” He turned back to the priest. “So, why are you here?” Then, he realized speaking in Veritas would not reveal much. He tried to think back to his time in captivity — and as king — where he had learned a bit of Z-Lotz. At last, he said haltingly, “You Z-Lotz. This is Veritas. You Z-Lotz. Why? Why you are here? What do you desire? Blackberries? I don’t think so!”

Many Paths glanced at Shadow Walker. His face: a storm front; his forearm ready for a deadly strike. “Shadow Walker, my dear heart. I do believe this man has some very useful information for us. I’m quite curious to hear his story, just like you. But let’s hear the story to see whether it satisfies us. If it does, we may chat still more. If and when his story gets woven into some web of lies, we will recreate this wonderful scene and you will be free to break his throat if you wish.” During this time, the arrow eyes of Many Paths connected completely with Shadow Walker. She did not even glance at the Z-Lotz.

Shadow Walker nodded, “Well said Many Paths. That is the wiser course. Now, who are you?” Shadow Walker grimaced as he remembered the language barrier and he repeated his last question in that tongue. “You name is?”

“OLIE” the subdued man replied.

Many Paths drew near. Removed her dagger from the sightline of OLIE but kept it close at hand. “I am curious how you came to be here. You must have a good tale to tell. It isn’t at all common to see an individual Z-Lotz. So, go on. Earn your dinner with your tale. We have more to offer than blackberries.”

Shadow Walker narrowed his eyes and stared at Many Paths. What is she doing, he asked himself. She’s being nice to him. Why? Another part of his brain was processing the reactions of the stranger. Many Paths is being nice on purpose. She thinks he may volunteer the truth. I should have thought of that as well. Then, once again, the thought struck him that he could be more effective in life, if he would sometimes ask himself, “What would Many Paths do?”

Shadow Walker’s attention now zoomed in on what the man OLIE was saying. Shadow Walker listened intently, but still couldn’t comprehend very well so he asked the man to supplement his telling with the more universal sign language. The stranger complied and Shadow Walker found he could apparently understand the basics of what was being said. Shadow Walker made it clear that he could get up and they would sit together but not to run. Here then, is OLIE’s tale. Shadow Walker translated to Many Paths.

“I was born, of course, in Read-It, the chief and most populous home of the Z-Lotz. My family was in the priest class and I did well in my studies so that I became a priest as well. I’m here basically because there is nowhere else to go. Read-It is gone. Z-Lotz are gone. I mean, most are. Many died in a plague. Then, we — ?! You are he! You are the king who left! Never in history has someone volunteered to step down. There was much chaos about the line of succession. Finally, the priests stepped in and said, “Look. This is absurd. We’re killing each other off. We should all work together as one team. When he said, ‘all’ he meant men. Men. Not women. So, the priests took over, including me. But soon, women started rebelling. The priests had gone too far, and fighting and chaos broke out. Many wanted to kill the priests. I barely escaped with my life! I didn’t have time to even grab my robes. I only had a simple shirt. But I found this on a dead priest. I looked at him and thought how that could be me. I took his cloak. I was hungry. I ate some blackberries. Then I heard someone coming. You two. So, I hid among the blackberry stems.”

To Shadow Walker the story seemed plausible, but he knew that did not make it true. It could just as well be that he’s really here to find out where our defenses are, how many of us are there, what are good places to attack from. Or, he could be bearing another sort of poison for us — different but equally effective as the last nasty stuff they left behind. He glanced at Many Paths. If she were having similar thoughts, nothing in her face gave such thoughts away. Shadow Walker realized that his own face was not so well trained as that of Many Paths. He replaced his angry face with an inscrutable one. Over the next few minutes, Shadow Walker noticed both that OLIE continued to become apparently more relaxed and that after he put a neutral face on, OLIE began to glance at him as well.

At the same time, Shadow Walker decided he would test whether OLIE truly understood Veritas. He added this phrase to his translation to Many Paths: “I wonder whether we’d be better off torturing him for information. That’s what they do.” He carefully observed the face of the priest and saw no clue there that OLIE had understood. Many Paths frowned and then her eyes widened. Shadow Walker added quickly, “Sorry. I was just testing whether he knows Veritas.” Again, he looked carefully at OLIE and saw no sign that he did.

After a long silence, Many Paths spoke, using Shadow Walker as her interpreter. She said that she appreciated his story. She said that she would like to learn more about the Z-Lotz. She said that she would like to invite him to a dinner where he could feast on more than blackberries. But she explained that not everyone in her tribe would be immediately trusting of the Z-Lotz. She described the strange stuff that had been given as a “gift” but that destroyed the arms of Stone Chipper. She described the plague which had nearly killed one of the tribe elders, their former chief, She Who Saves Many Lives. She did not describe how her own brother T-Swift had been stolen by the ROI as part of their agreement with the Z-Lotz.

“I see. Yes.” OLIE’s reply seemed insightful, yet blind. Shadow Walker & Many Paths waited for him to elaborate; perhaps, even to apologize. OLIE made no move to flee, nor did he seem to show any interest in conversing. He glanced back at the blackberry bush. Despite the predations of at least the three of them, there were still plenty of berries left.

Many Paths smiled. “Let us return to the Center Place of the Veritas. I will introduce you to a few people first and explain your circumstances so that you will be safe. In order to do that, and ensure your safety, it will necessary to know a little more. Do you believe you are being pursued by any of the Z-Lotz?”

OLIE made a quick, almost ritual, shake of his head. “No. No-one would bother. People are hungry and tired of fighting as well. For a short time, it seemed as though we might conquer the disease. Just as you said.” Here, the man looked directly at Shadow Walker. “But, you see, there was the matter of who was to be leader. After you left, fighting broke out. Many wanted to claim the throne. The fighting meant … everyone got close to everyone and there was little time for medicine or rest. Some few, including me, never got sick. We may have claimed…some may have claimed that it was because they followed God’s directives more fervently. At first, this sounded like a good plan. Many tried to be more pious, but they got sick anyway. And, then, they became quite angry with us. They were angry at the priests who had given such useless advice, but the anger spread to all priests.”

OLIE paused and looked down. Shadow Walker & Many Paths glanced at each other. “The priests are perhaps responsible partly. But…” He glanced at Shadow Walker. “When you left so suddenly and unexpectedly….it made everything worse. We didn’t know what to do. We made up new rules and tried to give the men privileges. They were pleased, but eventually, it backfired. Too much violence. My faith…? I don’t know. I don’t know. But without the Book, without God, what is there? Once the people stopped doing what we said, how could they be in tune with God. Imagine what would happen to your people with no-one to tell them how to interpret the Book.”

Many Paths looked intently at OLIE’s face. She was astounded. Many Path saw no hint that OLIE was trying to deceive her. Yet, it seemed to her impossible that the Z-Lotz, or at least this one, would know so little about the people they made their enemy. She frowned. Could they possibly know that the Veritas had no real “Priest Class”? Could it be that the Z-Lotz hadn’t known that the Veritas were ignorant of books until a few months ago? Or, that everyone among the Veritas created or discovered their own relationship to the Great Tree of Life? She took a deep breath. She tried not to scoff at OLIE’s apparent ignorance but instead to use it as a guide to reflecting on her own ignorance. What had she, or indeed, any of the Veritas, known even a few years ago about the Z-Lotz or the ROI or the Cupiditas? About the Fierce and Formidable warriors from the frigid north or the Nomads of the desert? The Veritas had not even known for certain that there were more Veritas on the other side of the mountain. Many Paths thought back to the empathy test that required them to try to see the world through the eyes of various animals. Even before those tests for the Rings, every hunter learned the ways of those who would be prey or predator. How was it then that the Veritas as well as the Z-Lotz had learned so little of the ways of their neighbors?

—————

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Second Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Third Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Fourth Ring of Empathy

Math Class: Who are you?

Dance of Billions

The Declaration of Interdependence

The Bill of Obligations

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

Author Page on Amazon

The Trust Dilemma

06 Monday Jun 2022

Posted by petersironwood in story, Veritas

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Tags

Democracy, legend, meeting, myth, USA

Many Paths eagerly took the hand of Shadow Walker. The latter said, “Let’s walk to the top of Wolf’s Back Ridge. We can pick some blackberries on the way. I wanted to tell you about an interesting conversation I had with Horse Whisperer the other day.” Many Paths smiled and nodded in assent. Despite the opening, they walked in silence for a time. This suited Many Paths for her mind was still on the conversation she had just had with She Who Saved Many Lives. At last, they came to the bend in the path where the blackberries grew. They were warm and luscious from the sun.

As they picked — and ate — Shadow Walker said, “So. Horse Whisperer. Of all the people we know, he surely is the most fluent in ROI.” Shadow Walker could see that a dark cloud passed over the face of his lover. “I know. I’m no fan of the ROI either. Yet, eventually, we need a way to invite them to the Meeting of the Six Tribes. Tu-Swift vouches for him, in a way. Horse Whisperer was okay with being part of the business of stealing children and selling them for slaves to the Z-Lotz. That’s true. But now, I think he is … his mind is more aligned with our ways than theirs. He is happier than he ever was in the ROI. And, he knows that. He mentioned it to me when we were fishing the other day.” Shadow Walker laughed and added, “Well, when I was fishing. He knew nothing about it. Can you imagine? All his life was ordered around taking care of the horses. He knew very little about fishing, or even hunting, or being a warrior. The ROI — they are very — their lives are put into different urns. And, they live most of their lives in those urns. Or, I suppose, I should say ‘lived’ because I’m not even sure there are enough ROI left to have a way of life separate from the Z-Lotz. I told him what I saw and heard when I was a captive of the Z-Lotz; namely, that after the ROI lost their village, the ROI who fled to the Z-Lotz village were little better than servants — almost slaves, really.”

Shadow Walker paused to create a space for Many Paths to comment. None was forthcoming so he ventured on. “When I told him that, he simply nodded and said that he would suspect as much.” There was no trace of anger or resentment in his voice. It was as though I was describing a tree or a way to climb a bluff. He didn’t seem to blame the Z-Lotz. He was not surprised. Anyway, this led to a deeper conversation about his own beliefs about the world. He has very little to say about how the various tribes have decided to arrange themselves other than to acknowledge that there are vast differences. He enjoys living among us.”

Many Paths nodded. “Yes. I think so too. Tu-Swift said that he was a kind as he was allowed to be, both with him and with the horses. He doesn’t seem to enjoy cruelty, but he was not averse to being cruel if and when custom required it. But what are you suggesting, exactly?”

“The Z-Lotz, we now know well, can be quite treacherous. They came to us with supposed gifts and they were poisons that ruined Stone Chipper and requested … well, really, demanded that you go see them. I have no doubt that they would have killed you … or perhaps demanded we surrender to them in order to save your life.”

Many Paths grimaced at this. “I hope you would have sense enough not to ever go along with such a trick! They are not to be trusted!”

Shadow Walker nodded. “I agree. But you are well-loved, and not just by me. It may have been difficult … anyway, the point is, how do we bring the ROI and Z-Lotz to the Meeting of the Six Tribes when we cannot trust them? And, we know very little of their language and customs. We tried having us sneak into the Z-Lotz village to learn more and that certainly did not go as planned. Eagle Eyes & I were very lucky to have escaped. And now we find ourselves in a position of ignorance about their current situation. The parents of Cat Eyes, Tree Vines and Gathers Acorns, were prisoners long enough to have learned something of their ways. Other than that, we have learned the most from Cat Eyes herself.”

“True,” said Many Paths, “But who are we talking about here? Horse Whisperer? Or, Cat Eyes?”

Shadow Walker sighed. He smiled and realized he wouldn’t mind a few more blackberries. “I am not sure I have the full answer. I just have a feeling that Horse Whisperer can be trusted and he knows much about the ROI. If the ROI were still in their separate village, I would say we should send him to meet with the ROI and convince them to come to the Meeting of the Six Tribes. Unfortunately, we don’t have that option. The ROI are embedded now with the Z-Lotz. And, the person most well-suited to dealing with them is Cat Eyes. Although…”

Many Paths plucked a few more of the delicious blackberries and placed one on the lips of Shadow Walker who closed his eyes with pleasure. He chuckled and said, “That is the most delicious berry yet!”

Many Paths tilted her head and asked, “Although what?”

Shadow Walker sighed. “They might. They might still view me as their leader. I don’t know. It would be risky.”

“What!?” Many Paths frowned. “You are not going to go there again! As you said, you were lucky to escape with your life! I need you and the Veritas need you. It’s true that I cannot well predict the Z-Lotz, but it seems quite likely that they would simply kill you on sight. Or worse.”

Shadow Walker spoke quietly. “Yet, just a few minutes ago, you said that if we could save your life by surrendering to the Z-Lotz we should not do it.”

Many Paths scoffed. “Because there wouldn’t have been any point! They cannot be trusted to keep their word!”

Shadow Walker bit his lip. “I know. That’s why I think we have a dilemma. You don’t trust them. I don’t trust them. The person who knows them the best — Cat Eyes — she certainly doesn’t trust them. I think it may be in their nature. In the same way that Horse Whisperer would help his tribe steal children without seeing anything wrong with it, I don’t think the Z-Lotz think lying and cheating and going back on their word means anything — or at least, it doesn’t mean what it does to us. We need to be careful. But if we really can’t trust them at all, then, what can come of a Meeting of the Six Tribes? Perhaps it should only be a meeting of the Five Tribes. Perhaps, when the Z-Lotz see the advantages to all five tribes, it could get them to change their ways. I don’t know. What do you think?”

Many Paths let out a long sigh. “I think we have eaten enough berries for one day. We’ve tamed eagles. And we’ve trained wolves. And we’re learning to tame horses. From Horse Whisperer. Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s too large a leap to trust them at a council. That still leaves the problem of how to separate the ROI from the Z-Lotz and even if we succeed, that will certainly do nothing to help the Z-Lotz trust us! The last thing we did was to destroy — or at least temporarily disable — their precious killing sticks.”

Shadow Walker frowned. “We had to do that. If not … “

Many Paths nodded vigorously. “I know! I know! You did the right thing. I agree. But just as it’s hard for us to trust them, it will be hard for them to trust us as well.” Suddenly, Many Paths put up her hand for quiet and made the short but quick gesture to get down. Shadow Walker fell silently to his belly and put his hands behind his ears for better listening. The two of them slowed their breathing and listened. Something — or someone — seemed to be slithering in the blackberry bushes.

——————————-

The First Ring of Empathy

The Ailing King of Agitate

The Watershed Virus

The Truth Train

Author Page on Amazon

Seed, Ground, Water, Light, Love

10 Thursday Mar 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

cooperation, council, Democracy, legend, myth, peace, politics, story, Veritas, war

——————

After some delicate and delicious love-making with Shadow Walker, Many Paths decided to check on She Who Saved Many Lives. If she seemed well enough, it might also be good to see whether her mentor had any further wisdom to share about Many Path’s plan to gather all the tribes. Her goal was to bring about peace but she realized that in trying to accomplish that, she might trigger the very things she hoped to avoid. Her tentative plan was therefore to gather as much wisdom as she might from many sources — but not to wait overlong. As the story goes, she thought to herself, if you waste the entire warm season deciding where to plant, you will starve in the season of great ice and snow.

Many Paths called out to her friend and mentor and received a surprisingly strong and cheery response. “Come in, Many Paths. Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask your advice about something. Do sit down. I will get you a cup of tea this time.”

Not for the first time, Many Paths wondered whether it was actually possible for She Who Saved Many Lives to see into her heart and mind. After serving them both a cup of spicebush tea, ever so slightly flavored with mint, She Who Saved Many Lives went to her work area and brought over two patches of weaving. She placed one on each knee of Many Paths. The older woman smiled and said, “It never fails to amaze me how strong a weave of reeds is! It’s so wonderful. Just as I hope our community is.”

“I have had that exact same though,” Many Paths replied. Then, she laughed and added, “Likely because you pointed that out to me before I was even old enough to remember.”

The Elder Shaman tilted her head and nodded ever so slightly. “Perhaps. But you have made so many wonderful discoveries. And, not only you but the entire tribe. That’s because you have been open to learning and seeing what is there. But enough of that. I did have a question for you. Which of these two do you think is better?”

Many Paths frowned. “Better for what? What are you making?”

She Who Saved Many Lives considered, “A basket to carry things.”

Many Paths nodded, “What things and how many? This weave has these stiffer switches to help support the weight. If you’re making a small bag to collect mint, for example, you wouldn’t have any need. If you’re making a large bag to collect apples, however, you would want the extra structuring support.”

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She Who Saved Many Lives nodded. “Yes, yes. That sounds obvious when you say it. I guess the fever must have addled my brain a bit. Anyway, thank you for reminding me. Soon, I will have to decide on what I want to use the bag for; then I will know which one is likely correct. Now, what did you want to ask my advice on?”

Many Paths took in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I am quite sure I didn’t say anything about asking your advice.”

She Who Saved Many Lives nodded. “I think you’re right. Sometimes I confuse us.” She laughed. “I know it sounds crazy but any way, I will get back to my weaving — or at least deciding why I’m weaving and let you go about your business — unless, of course, there was something else you wanted to talk about.”

Many Paths chuckled. “As it turns out, I did want to ask your advice about something. You know I want to convene a — Let me ask you another question first. Are you going to teach me how to see into another person’s mind?”

She Who Saved Many Lives laughed surprisingly long. At last, she caught her breath and said, “Many Paths! You won all seven rings of empathy! Of course, you can see into others. Of course, you can never be perfect at it. But you already do it. I knew you were busy. Yet you came to see me. You probably wanted to see whether I was dead or not, but even your footsteps and the way you called out told me you had something else on your mind. In fact, whether you knew it or not, you assumed I was alive. There was no edge of anxious worry in your voice. It was friendly — but also a bit — plaintive. I knew you wanted something from me. Now, you can see I have very few possessions. I find too many to be intolerably distracting. I am not going to help you with any arduous physical task. What is left? You want to offer me the opportunity to share my experiences; that is a great gift. For once we die, what else is left? So, naturally, I am more than willing to try to see what grows from our discussion.”

Many Paths looked down and slowly shook her head. She realized that she could read people. She simply forgot sometimes to do it. If you really take the time to put yourself in their sandals, of course, you can make a good guess at what they’re thinking, she thought. Aloud, she said, “Yes. You’re right. So, I want to convene the tribes and I am wondering how, exactly, to go about it. How can I make sure it helps bring greater peace and doesn’t somehow spark off violence. Maybe it’s better not to try?”

She Who Saved Many Lives replied, “I can say that no-one has attempted to bring all the tribes we know about together — not in my lifetime or the lifetime of my mother or the lifetime of my mother’s mother. During that time, there have been many wars and other atrocities. People stealing other people’s children? Even in our own tribe, we had some who forgot they were not the Tree of Life but a small and temporary part of the Tree of Life. I judge it’s worth the attempt.”

Many Paths. “As to how…?”

She Who Saved Many Lives said, “What comes to mind for what you are trying to do is more akin to growing things than it is to making things. I am making a basket, and I will use it for a time. I don’t ever imagine that it will live forever any more than that I will or you, my dear. But if I know your heart correctly, you don’t want to make a thing, which will at some time break or dissolve. You want to make something grow for a hundred years, like a giant oak. Ideally, it would be an oak that would seed still more oaks when old mother oak also died.”

Many Paths nodded. She realized that her mentor had described her desires precisely even though she herself could not have articulated so succinctly. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

She Who Saved Many Lives nodded. “Let’s suppose then that you want to plant something so that it’s likely to grow. What do you need?”

“A seed. Fertile ground. Water. Sun. That’s it. Is there more? Love! It’s all more likely to grow with love.”

She Who Saved Many Lives nodded. “Yes. That’s it. I would start with the love. You already have that. Then, you need to know what seed. The seed determines what will grow though not exactly how. But you will need the ground, water, and sun so it can grow at all.”

Many Paths continued the thought stream. “If you know what the seed is, then, you know what kind of place to look for. You know whether you need to plant it in bright sunlight or in shade. You know whether it needs very fertile ground or if it can grow in dirt and rocks. And, you know whether it needs to be in very wet ground or if arid ground will do.”

“Yes,” Many Paths, “and it occurs to me, that you might choose a place with enough light first, because, you can make the ground more fertile and bring more water, if need be. But brining light is more difficult.” She Who Saved Many Paths sighed. “Once, apparently, we knew how to bring light as those which lit the tunnel that leads to the Veritas on the … on the other side of the mountain.”

“I do wonder, Old Mother, whether such light would is strong enough to grow plants. And then, Shadow Walker used reflections of the sun, along with other captives, to escape from the City of the Z-Lotz. It seems too contrived and elaborate for growing plants, but … perhaps writing is a little like that when it comes to providing enough truth so that peace can grow. It allows you to bring the light of wisdom to places that are many days walk from where they started. More importantly, you can place the light in a different time as well. We have all learned so much from the books uncovered in the great library. But, as usual, you are right. We must determine what type of thing we want to grow. That decision will determine the type of seed. The type of seed will determine the proper material, sunshine, and water.”

Many Paths arose and began pacing around in the Old Leader’s shelter. “Of course, since the outcome could impact everyone, I need to know how everyone believes it should be. Or, at least, find out as much as they know about how they want it to be.”

“Yes.” She Who Saved Many Lives considered for a moment before answering. “I suspect some will have many ideas about that while others may not care that much. Nearly everyone wants peace. On other matters, there may be great differences.”

Many Paths sat back down. The two sat in a comfortable silence for a time. Many Paths rose at last and said, “Thank you for sharing your wisdom. I will look for some to walk with me a bit and contemplate the plants and their nature and try to see among them what it is that the people may be seeking. I’m glad you seem so much better.”

“As am I, Many Paths. You know, you give me much to live for.” She Who Saved Many Lives smiled and added, “But I do think I will lie down for a nap now. Though some time in the near future, I might accompany you on such a walk.”

Many Paths left and saw Shadow Walker coming toward her. From the look on his face, Many Paths judged he had some news. His smile broadened as he approached and he said, “Hello my love! Can we go for a bit of a walk?”

———————

Author Page on Amazon

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Myths of the Veritas: Love Notes

05 Saturday Feb 2022

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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Tags

empathy, ethics, fiction, language, love, myth, Veritas

Shadow Walker awoke before dawn. He looked over at Many Paths, grateful for her, for the healing of life that had finally mended his leg, for the people he lived among. His imprisonment in the Great Walled City of the Z-Lotz had shown him that not all tribes are built on love and trust and truth.

He smiled at Many Paths. He was sorely tempted to gently awaken her, but instead decided to treat her to some fresh blackberries. He had noticed some along the long, hidden path that now connected the Veritas here with those who lived on the other side of the mountain. He arose quietly and slipped out the front of their cabin when a thought occurred to him. The writing that Tu-Swift had discovered need not be limited to books.

Shadow Walker softly stole back inside and wrote a simple note and put it beside Many Paths. He smiled as he imaged her awakening, not seeing Shadow Walker but then noticing that he had left a token of his love that could actually be read by his love. Every time he thought of it, he felt amazed all over again at this business of writing and reading.

He stopped by Tu-Swift’s cabin on the off chance Tu-Swift was also up early. Shadow Walker thought that perhaps he should really think of it now as the cabin of Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes. They were obviously in love, but, perhaps more importantly, Tu-Swift could see that they worked well as a team. He smiled and thought of Many Paths. He whispered to himself, “Yes, Many Paths. We also make a good team.”

The cabin of Tu-Swift and Cat Eyes was empty of people, but Shadow Walker immediately spied a piece of birchbark with writing symbols on it. The two of them had gotten up early and started on their translation work at nearby overlook which caught the rays of the rising sun. Behind a natural rock table, what was nearly a perfect semi-circle of granite cliff reflected the rays making it a pleasant place where the dew lifted more quickly than other places. So, it was here they made their workshop for their most serious work. Sometimes, they did their work in the most public parts of the Veritas villages so that others could see what they were up to, ask questions, and learn. They didn’t mind having their work interrupted to answer questions. At the same time, to them, the quest for knowledge was a passion, not just because they of their thirst for knowledge, but multiplied by the overwhelming premonition they shared that just as terrible things had happened before, they would again — unless, perhaps — they might be able to piece things together so as to prevent making the same mistakes yet again. Some plants do well in full sunlight and much water. Others do getter in shade and little water. Sometimes, Cat Eyes and Tu-Swift needed to focus on understanding in a deep way. Those deep roots would not grow with constant interruption; hence, the special area.

Shadow Walker picked his blackberries that morning without human companionship. That hardly means he was alone. He picked early enough to hear a concert of his songful birdish cousins. Shadow Walker could see many of his smaller cousins as well {Translator’s Note: This is what we would call:} : ants, spiders, aphids, ladybugs, butterflies, a walking stick, several snails, and a cricket. When berry picking is a full time job, the experience is, no doubt, completely different. What Shadow Walker experienced, as an adult, was precisely the joy that any small child feels as they pick berries for the first time, marveling in the fresh, sweet, rich taste as the teeny bubbles burst syrupy goodness onto your tongue.

Shadow Walker also still felt the joy of the attention-demanding weave of hands so as to capture the berry but avoid the sharp prickers, and he still felt joy from the knowledge that he was doing his part; contributing something to family, community, and himself. In Shadow Walker’s experience of the moment, all of that was still fully there. In addition, he thought of it also as a present for the woman he loved with all his heart.

Perhaps that is partly why, when he had plenty of berries to fulfill his contribution to the anticipated breakfast with Many Paths, he continued to pick berries until late morning. Plenty of other people in the village could share in the fruit and some might dry some of the berries for much later.

When Shadow Walker did arrive back, much later than he had originally intended, he heard soft crying from within. His mood slid from a bright yellow joy to a dark purple sadness because that is what he received from Many Paths.

He knelt down beside her, took her hands gently into his and asked, “What on earth is wrong?”

She looked up, sighed, and looked into Shadow Walker’s face. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly to her, not with the energy necessary to signal another person that you like them or even the energy of a hug that lingers because it feels good. This was more like the hug of someone holding onto a tree limb or an overhang — holding on for dear life.

Shadow Walker knew the difference. At last, Many Paths released her hold, sat back up and smiled at him. She began,

“Thank you for leaving me the note!”

—————————

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Tale of the Three Blind Mice

The Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

A Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

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Drumpf in the Garden

04 Saturday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

ethics, fiction, heaven, hell, myth, parable, purgatory, St. Peter, story, tale

Donny squinted. It wasn’t good enough. He shut his eyes. Still not enough. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could, but the light still penetrated. He clapped his hands over his tightly shut eyes. The light still penetrated. He clenched his teeth.

That’s when the music began. Beautiful. But much, much too loud. The booming bass voice vibrated his sternum like staccato fireworks.

“Mr. Drumpf. Apologies. Our A/V department sometimes gets a bit carried away.”

The overwhelming light and deafening sound dissolved into a melodic soaring theme. Gradually, he released his hands and then unscrunched his face. His breathing slowed and he cautiously opened his eyes a slit. All around him, the golden light of a setting sun — or was it a rising sun, he wondered. Anyway, the sun gilded a garden in gold.

Danny Drumpf stared at the huge figure towering over him. Uncharacrteristically, his voice quavered as he asked, “Who are you?”

The figure chuckled good-naturedly. “The real question, Mr. Drumpf, is who are you? After all, that’s what we’re here to find out.”

———————————-

Donny tried to remember how the hell he had gotten here. “Oh, crap!” He yelled aloud with the sudden revelation. He had just died. How though? He couldn’t remember. A sudden sharp pain ripped through his chest. Donny remembered. They had cracked his sternum, retracted his ribs and taken out his heart. Surely not, he thought. Some kind of bad dream. That’s what this is. And, he willed it to be a bad dream with all his missing heart. But try as he might, he couldn’t convince himself. No, he remembered. It was real. They had literally ripped out his heart. But why he asked himself. Why would anyone do something so cruel?

Another image flew into his mind, unbidden. They had shown him a preview. While he was bound, they had dragged him along a long series of stone carvings which depicted the tortures he was about to endure, ending in the extraction of his heart. He recalled that his knees and ankles had scraped along the stone pathway that led to the altar. He marveled at how painful that had felt before they began teaching him the true dimensions of pain — its colors and tastes. But why? Why had they done this to him.

He had screamed something aloud as they had done it. Yes. He screamed the same thing again now in remembrance. “I don’t belong here!”

—————-

Donny found himself shaking his head. He reminded himself that he wasn’t really Mayan at all. That had to have been a bad dream. Bad dreams. Bad luck. Bad times. It was all bad.

Suddenly, he remembered. His real life, he recalled, had been as a con man. He was born rich and he made himself even richer. That was his real life. He recalled some of the moments so vividly that he completely forgot about the shimmering figure towering over him. He chuckled. In his real life, he was smart! Too smart to care about anyone but himself. After all, caring about others, just as Daddy had taught him, was the biggest con of all. He was a con man, all right and damned good at it. He repeated the mantra he had used almost constantly in his real life: “I am all that matters and I am always right. Give me everything you have because I’m bright!” He chuckled again.

A shadow passed across those happy sunny memories. He had had an incredible string of bad luck. That’s what had led him to prison. That’s what put him out on death row. People were out to get him. They were probably jealous. That’s why so many wanted to destroy him. Donny didn’t have a religious bone in his body. Religion! Hah! What a con job that was! But for some inexplicable reason, just as his enemies came on him he had screamed to God: “Please! Dear God! Save me! Let me be anywhere else! Anywhere!”

And, miraculously. It had worked! He had apparently been able to con God himself! He had been instantly whisked away from his 21st century enemies and had found himself in a pre-Columbian Mayan village. Using just his wits and the few 21st century possessions he still had with him, he had been able to con the Mayans as well.

For a time.

Eventually, they discovered his true nature and they killed him.

So, he wondered where the hell he was now. He muttered, “How did I survive and end up in this sunlit garden?” Donny frowned. Then, a smile spread across his face. He remembered! He had again called upon God to spare him. He had probably made some ridiculous promises or something but it didn’t matter, because he had conned God again and now, here he was in heaven! That’s where I must be. He became aware once more of the bright shimmering presence before him. Donny smiled as he realized he had outsmarted God himself!

“Hey! Tell me if I’m wrong, but I’m in heaven right? And, you must be God, right? Thanks for saving me!”

The towering presence shimmered a bit more brightly and smiled. “Oh, Mr. Drumpf. Goodness no. That’s quite amusing. My heavens, no. I am not God. That’s quaint. I am but a tiny shadow of God. I summoned you to paradise because I thought it might motivate you to do better next time. If there is a next time. I’ll check back on you in a few centuries. The carrot approach didn’t seem to work for you, Mr. Drumpf. Now, we’ll try something else.”

“Try what? What are you talking about? I don’t like your tone of voice, mister not-God.” Donny put on his imperious face: disdain, disgust, and cruelty swirled together. He had first learned to make that face while he was stealing lunch money from much younger kids back when he was a childhood bully. “Well?”

“Oh, surely, you can work it out. Mr. Drumpf. You’ll be going straight to hell. You’ll be there for quite a spell.”

———————————-

Zeus and the Bolts from the Blue

24 Sunday Oct 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

fiction, Greek, myth, Zeus

Zeus was King of the Gods. Well, not the King of all the Gods. But he was King of the Greek Gods, and you might have thought that that would be enough to satisfy anyone.

After all, Zeus got to live in a beautiful palace on top of Mt. Olympus. The view was tremendous. At night, the clear mountain air revealed a sky full of bright stars. But, being immortal has its downside. Even though the stars were spectacular, they appeared to travel in the same circles, night after night, month after month, year after year, century after century, millennium after millennium. Zeus was bored.

Zeus complained, as he often did these days, to his wife Hera, “Hera, don’t you get sick of watching the starts go round and round every night? And, they move so slowly. And, then, the next night the same basically. And every year, the same circles at the same time.”

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Now, you might think, since Hera was also immortal, that she would be just as bored as Zeus. The difference was not that Hera was more powerful or more immortal or the she got to eat better quality potato chips or higher quality dip.

No, the difference was that Hera had a much better imagination. If things “out there” were boring, she’d make up stories about the things “out there” that made them much more interesting. She was astounded that Zeus, who had also lived forever, had never figured this out for himself, but he apparently hadn’t so she thought she’d share some of the stories with him. Perhaps then, he would eventually learn to make up his own stories and never really be bored again. She could then spend less time listening to Zeus complain and more time eating pomegranates and planning elaborate weddings for some of her human friends. Win/Win.

So, she said to Zeus, “Actually, my dear husband, if you watch more carefully, you’ll see that most of the stars go around and around in the same circles just as you say. But some of the stars are wanderers. They don’t go round and round and come back to the exact same place. Instead, if you watch long enough, they also go this way and that way. And some of them are actually the brightest stars in the sky. But they aren’t really stars at all. They are planets.

Zeus’s giant jaw dropped all the way to his chest. “What?! What are you talking about Hera. That can’t be right! I would have noticed. I’ve been staring at the sky every night for years and years. There aren’t any wanderers.”

“Oh, yes. You don’t notice because, after all, they appear to move slowly. They are far away and even though they are actually moving much faster than horses can run, they seem to move slowly. So, it’s not surprising you didn’t notice. To tell you the truth, I didn’t notice either until your daughter, Athena pointed them out to me.”

Zeus’s face darkened at the mention of Athena. “I still have a splitting headache from the spot where she came out of my forehead! I don’t see why she can’t have been born the normal way.”

Hera nodded. “Yes, well, let me tell you, Zeus, the normal way isn’t all that comfortable either! But that’s beside the point. It doesn’t matter who first discovered it. The point is that some of those things that appear to be stars are actually planets. They are not glowing globs of nuclear fusion at all. They are giant rocks — somewhat like earth — and they reflect the sun’s light. They go in orbit around the sun just as does earth. When we watch from here, it appears that they are wandering. There aren’t very many of them. Anyway, Athena and I decided to name them and make up stories about them so we would not be bored.”

“Name them? How did you name them? Why wasn’t I consulted?” Little thunderclouds orbited around the head of Zeus much as sharks will circle their prey. {And, actually, now we think about it, isn’t ‘sharks circling their prey’ a good metaphor for anger? It’s easy for you to become the actual prey for your own anger. Anyway, back to Hera.}

“Well, Zeus, we did look for you in order to get your opinion. But it turned out you were busy being overly friendly with a Swan named Leda. Or, maybe it was Dione. Honestly, you have so many kids from so many different wives, it’s hard to keep track. But again, not the point. We named many of these so-called planets after your kids. But to avoid confusion, we used the Roman names.”

“Roman names?” Zeus was puzzled. “What is Roman? What does that mean?”

Hera sighed. “Really Zeus, I’ve explained the Romans before. You really should go visit the Oracle at Delphi. They can tell the future. In the future, not so long from now, the Romans will take over much of the world and they will still make people worship us but with different names — their names. You, for example, will be known as ‘Jupiter’ among the Romans.”

“What?! ‘Jupiter’! What kind of name is that?!” Now, the dark rainclouds circling the head of Zeus began to flash and sparkle with lightening.

Hera sighed again, somewhat more exasperated. “I told you, Zeus. It’s a Roman name. In a few hundred years, we’ll all get Roman names. Anyway, the planet that apparently wanders back and forth the most, we named after Hermes. The Roman name for Hermes is Mercury. The one that has the prettiest blue color and shines the brightest reminded us of Aphrodite, the Goddess of Beauty so we named the next planet after the Roman name for Aphrodite, Venus.”

“Do I get one?” Asked Zeus.

“Of course! We named the biggest planet after you. After your Roman, name “Jupiter.” Your planet is big and golden, just like you.”

“Good!” Shouted Zeus.

“Good!” Shouted Hera. “Now, tonight, when the stars come out, you watch carefully. Keep careful track and after a few weeks, you’ll see that some of the stars do not keep going in exactly the same circles every night. You’ll see the ones we call ‘wanderers’ or ‘planets.” And if you see a big golden one, that’s named after you. Jupiter. Now, you rest up while I go fix tonight’s feast of ambrosia.”

Hera left. Soon, Zeus forgot all about getting a rest and instead decided to try his luck at a game of “Jolt the Dolt with a Bolt.” In this game, he would throw lightening bolts all the way down to the beach and fields and roads way below Mt. Olympus and try to Jolt humans with a lightening bolt. It was hit and miss. More often, in fact, it was miss, miss, miss, and finally hit. Lightening bolts were hard to control. Often, he not only jolted the human, he fried them to a crisp. He grew bored.

Then, Zeus had a great idea. He decided to have a competition. It would be more fun if he were Jolting and Bolting with someone else. And, he knew just the person! Ares, the Greek God of War. But how to get hold of him? Cellphones, of course, hadn’t yet been invented. “I know,” mumbled Zeus to himself, “I’ll have Hermes go get him.”

Zeus buzzed the intercom on Hermes’s desk. “Hey! Hey, Hermes! Come on over to my balcony. I challenge you to a came of ‘Jolt the Dolt with a Bolt!’ You up for it? I’ll wager you 20 drachmas a dolt. Oh, and pick up Ares on the way over.”

Hermes replied quickly. “You’re on! I’ll be there in a flash. But do me a favor. Call me by my Roman name, ‘Mercury.’”

Zeus opened his mouth to say something, but before he could utter a word, Mercury (aka Hermes) appeared right beside him.

“Wow, you’re fast!” Remarked Zeus.

“Yes,” said Hermes. “That’s why you made me the messenger of the Gods, remember? Any way, who else is playing? Where’s Hera?”

“Hera went off to cook up some ambrosia. She doesn’t really like it when I jolt people with lightening. Something about ethics.”

Hermes shook his head. “Ambrosia? Again! What about a snack first. Potato chips and dip for example? Or some nice fresh raspberries? Oh, I know! What was that thing Athena invented? Olives! Yes. Olives, Chips and Dips. I really have to have that every time I play Jolt and Bolts. I call it OCD for short. Any of that around?” Suddenly, Hermes struck himself in the middle of his forehead, as though he had forgotten V-8 rather than Ares, and V-8 had not even been invented yet. “I forgot Ares!”

Zeus was thunderstruck. “How could you forget war? It’s never far from my mind? How else can we get mere mortals to fight each other rather than us? After all, that’s half the fun of Bolt the Dolts! When you Bolt a Dolt, if they survive, they blame another human! As though humans could throw lightening bolts. Pathetic, really. Anyway, I’ll make snacks.”

Zeus went to the mini-fridge on the deck and quickly arranged a snack. When he brought the plate back, however, Hermes was gone. “What the … ?”

A moment later, Hermes reappeared with Ares. The Greek God of War.

Ares spoke up, “Hail to thee, Zeus! I hear we’re going to play a game of Jolt with Bolts. I’m teaming up with Hermes. Who else is on your side? Oh, hey! Nice snacks. If only we had a some grapes to go with it. Or, some grape juice. Hey, I know! How about Dionysus! He can be on your team. Have him bring some wine for us! It’ll be a blast!”

Zeus liked Dionysus but he wasn’t sure he would be a very good teammate at Bolts and Jolts. Dionysus had been drinking so much wine over such a long time, he sometimes had trouble remembering the rules. When that happened, as it always must, the game was ruined.

Then, Zeus had an idea.

“I’ll tell you what. I’ve been hanging out all day — well, maybe all year, actually — here on Mt. Olympus. I’ll just borrow your chariot, Hermes, and go get Dionysus myself. We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

When he arrived at the house of Dionysus, he was rather surprised to find Dionysus completely sober. Though he had just poured himself a large flagon of wine, he had yet to drink a drop. “Hold on!” Cautioned Zeus and he stuck his hand out to block Dionysus. “No wine yet! You and I are having a contest and here’s the deal. I want you to bring a gallon of wine for our opponents Ares and Hermes. You and I are going to drink grape juice instead.”

Dionysus tilted his head. “Well, OK. I guess. But when can we start with the real wine?”

Zeus rolled his eyes. “Dionysus, it won’t be long. We’re going to hit a few humans with lightening bolts and call it a day. Hey, by the way, how’s your mom, Persephone, doing? Are she and Hades getting along in — where was it they relocated to? Hell?”

Dionysus frowned at Zeus. “You want me not to drink? Don’t bring up my Mom! I mean how in Hades do you think they’re doing? What is hell, after all, but lack of love and truth?”

Now it was Zeus who frowned. “I’m surprised to hear that. Hades seemed quite taken with her.”

Dionysus shook his head. “Zeus. That was lust, not love. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s focus on our strategy. Say, I forgot to ask. What are the stakes?”

When Zeus arrived back at his lavishly appointed deck, he could see that the sun was already beginning to sink. Okay, folks, let’s go. Let the games begin! Everyone quickly pick a human to defend. Each team will have two humans to defend and two that they are trying to pierce with a lightening bolt. Every contestant will be allowed one and only one throw each time the gong sounds. If there is a tie at any point, We’ll keep playing till another human is killed. Any questions? We’ll play nine rounds in all. Let’s go and let the best God win!”

Before the first gong, Dionysus pulled Zeus aside and said, “I don’t get it. We’re playing but we don’t really lose anything. Do we really care which humans are killed? We don’t really have a stake in the game. What’s the point?”

Zeus laughed. “We’re immortal. Don’t you see? That’s our curse. We’re immortal — so nothing really has a point.”

With that, Zeus strode over to his array of lightening bolts. He chose a jagged orange one. He hefted it a few times. He loved the feel of the steel. He couldn’t help but smile, remembering the nice feeling it gave him when he really nailed a human being.

—————————————-

I Can’t be Bothered

Tit for Tat

It Couldn’t Happen to a Nicer Guy

Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Myths of the Veritas: Stoned Soup

Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Winning W eekend Warrior (Sports psychology; the mental game)

Turing’s Nightmares (Sci-Fi scenarios about the future of AI)

Fit in Bits (Ways to put more fun & movement into daily activities)

Tales from an American Childhood (relates experiences from the 1950’s to modern day)

Myths of the Veritas: Many Paths Finds Many Keys

21 Tuesday Sep 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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cooperation, empathy, fiction, leadership, legend, Many Paths, myth, tale, Veritas

Many Paths frowned. She looked down at the wrinkly old lady who had been — and still was — her mentor, her shaman, her friend. She Who Saves Many Lives was drifting off to sleep but with a smile on her face, despite the difficulties and discomfort of the Red Spider Plague. Many Paths herself smiled. Even in sleep, the old Shaman made her feel better.

She decided to let her mentor sleep. Many Paths had been about to ask for a hint about the puzzle she had just been given. Many Paths laughed to herself thinking, Just as well. Her “hints” are just as likely to lead the student astray as they are to bring sunlight to the right path.

Many Paths left the old shaman’s cabin and walked about the Center Place of the Veritas. She greeted various members of the tribe warmly, and once she had greeted everyone in sight and reassured them that she was cured and that The Old Grandmother was resting comfortably. She had discovered that greeting everyone and having a short conversation with them allowed the maximum chance for uninterrupted thought. So, she settled herself at the porch of her own cabin. She reviewed what the old shaman had said to see if there was a clue to this seemingly impossible problem.

“There are two locked boxes. Each contains the other’s one and only key. Yet, I am able to use the keys to open both boxes. How is that possible?”

First of all, why had she brought this up? Was it just something that bubbled up in the overheated brain because of the fever? Perhaps. But Many Paths reckoned it more likely that She Who Saves Many Lives had intentionally chosen this puzzle because it held something useful for the problem at hand.

Well, thought Many Paths, to be more precise — not the only problem at hand — there were so many. But the one she had shared with her mentor was how to bring together all the nearby tribes and broker a peace deal amongst them. Fires. Wars. Killing Sticks. Stealing children. It was all madness. And the Z-Lotz? Bringing the Red Spiders Plague on purpose? Giving them a gift which was really meant to sicken them? How could there peace with such as that? And yet — and yet, somehow her lover Shadow Walker and one of her closest friends, Eagle Eyes had become the leaders of the Z-Lotz! If, she reminded herself, the note brought by the Eagle could be believed.

Many Paths sighed. She wished she could talk it through with someone. Yet…she had a feeling that She Who Saved Many Lives didn’t give her the puzzle because she wanted the answer. The old shaman already knew the answer. It was specifically designed to move something within Many Paths. Many Paths laughed aloud at her own train of thought. She shook her head and muttered to herself, “Here I am. I can’t solve the puzzle she gave me so instead, I’ve given myself a still harder problem — trying to read the mind of She Who Saves Many Lives! I think if I know why she gave me the puzzle, it would help me figure out the answer. The much more sensible approach is to solve the puzzle and then it will be much easier to solve why she gave it to me.”

Many Paths closed her eyes and put her fingers to her temple. With her eyes closed, she became much more aware of the warmth of the sun on her face. She quite consciously relaxed her muscles and slowed her breathing.

She thought: Inventory. What do I know? There are two boxes. There they are. Many Paths pictured two large wooden boxes side by side. They were identical. What are they made of? Are there holes? Is it still a box if there are holes? Maybe it’s still a box, but they are locked boxes. Locked boxes are not really locked boxes if their are large enough holes for me to slide my hand through and simply grab the keys. They are supposed to be locked boxes. But why are they made of pine wood? No-one said anything about pine or even wood. They could be carved out of stone, I suppose or even of ice. The boxes could melt! But she said ‘use the keys’ — well, I suppose you could take the keys and warm them in a fire and then, use that heat to melt the ice…but no, I wouldn’t yet have the keys. I could wait till they melt naturally. Then I could grab the keys, but I wouldn’t be using them to open the boxes. Is melting a box really opening it?

So, how do I know the boxes are identical? Suppose I am one of the boxes? I am in the tribe but I am also myself — my own person — even though I lead the tribe. Something is nearby. I can hear the answer rustling in the bushes but it is still too dark to see it clearly. Two boxes. Not necessarily the same. One could be the tribe. One could be me. If I had the key to the tribe … and the tribe had the key to me….they could me the key I need to open me and I could give them the key to open them.

In the mind of Many Paths, the two boxes began playing with each other. She made them mentally chase each other in circles. Then, when she grew tired of that game, she had them continue their roles to the end. One of the boxes opened its giant “mouth” — a hinged side — and “eat” the other box.

Many Paths stopped breathing. Her eyes snapped open. “Of course!” She said aloud. Her first inclination was to run back to continue her conversation with She Who Saves Many Lives. But she shook her head. She’s likely still asleep, thought Many Paths, and besides. There’s the other half of the problem. Why did she…? Ah, of course!

Many Paths saw that the second puzzle — why she had been given this puzzle when she had been telling She Who Saves Many Lives how much she wanted to bring peace to the tribes but she couldn’t even control Trunk of Tree — that wasn’t a puzzle at all. It was obvious. If she wanted to change the external world to be more peaceful, she herself would have to be changed — perhaps more peaceful — perhaps not. The puzzle didn’t specify exactly what about herself she would have to change. A puzzle merely illustrates a principle. It never dictates real world action. All the Veritas were taught this early, including Many Paths.

Her intuition led her to believe the two “keys” were different in her dilemma just as they had been in the puzzle. But —she also believed that they would be closely related. Many Paths wanted to the tribes to be more peaceful, more truthful, kinder, more cooperative. She sighed and issued a short laugh.

Many Paths said to herself, I want all the tribes to be more like the Veritas. I want them all to be Veritas. But — I can’t bring six tribes together and explain that they should all be just like me … or even more like me.

Again, Many Paths had a sudden impulse to run back to She Who Saves Many Lives to share her new insight. And, once again, she immediately suppressed that sudden urge. Instead, she sighed. She did wish that she could discuss this with one of her friends. It was clear that she needed to make a change, but it also seemed obvious to her that it was just the sort of change that friends could help with.

She thought, My friends will see in the moment that I am assuming everyone wants to be a Veritas and point it out. Eventually, the new way will permeate my thinking. But which friends? My most trusted friends were all unavailable at the moment. I’m not ready to allow the spread of rumors about a meeting with all the tribes. It can’t be just anyone. Could I talk about it with Trunk of Tree?

Many Paths took a deep breath. She reckoned she could talk about it with Trunk of Tree, but first, she needed to really see and understand his point of view.

She thought, Prior to seeing him, I need to make a guess at his perspective and then I need to check it out with him. I can’t just assume it’s right, but I might make a start. He’s always thought he should be the leader because he’s the strongest. In his mind being strongest is the most important thing. I need to make him see that we all do think it’s important. We value his strength and all wish we had more of your strength. We also believe that other things are also important. And, it may be the case, that in some instances, being the strongest is the very most important thing for a leader to have. And, it may be the case, that in some other instances, being able to see the best, or hear the best, or speak the most convincingly, or think the most creatively. Who knows? We have a way to choose a leader. And in that way, I was chosen. It doesn’t mean that you are not the strongest. It does not mean that we care nothing about you or your strength. It just means that for now, the shaman judges that the seven rings of empathy were the best trials. Of course, the people are the final judge and if everyone wants to change the way we choose leaders, so be it. Perhaps everyone will decide a wrestling match should determine the leader — or, as with the Z-Lotz and Cupiditas, — a fight to the death. If the people decide that, then so be it, and I will support you. And so will Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes and Tu-Swift. But as it is, I am the chosen leader. That doesn’t make me your ruler. I come to you as a friend and I need your advice precisely because you and I don’t always see eye to eye. Here’s what I’m thinking….

Her thoughts continued: Of course, I must be open to many paths of conversation. Perhaps I should suggest that I speak uninterrupted for a time. Trunk of Tree could be a good confidant if he will hear me out first. It requires so much work though to work with him. Of course, the same can be said of getting the six tribes together. It’s like trying to weave…yes…it is like weaving! The tribes can all be different. We can do things differently. But the question is, what do we want to work on together. And let us move in different directions and make the whole basket stronger.

Many Paths felt relieved somehow and looked forward to having an honest conversation with Trunk of Tree. She circled through the village looking for him but he was nowhere to be found. She wondered if he had gotten so made that he had injured himself or even left the tribe. She shook her head. She was having a bad day of fishing or hunting. She chuckled to herself and thought: I was actually looking forward to talking with Trunk of Tree and he’s not here. Oh, I miss Shadow Walker!

Just then, the attention of Many Paths turned to the air. She heard a distinct drumbeat pattern that someone safe was approaching. She thought: It looks as though I will have my conversation with Trunk of Tree after all.