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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: Resistance

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

17 Monday Aug 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, apocalypse, COVID-19, poetry, politics, Uncategorized

≈ 111 Comments

Tags

America, autocracy, COVID19, Democracy, ecology, fascism, pandemic, poem, poetry, Resistance, TheGreenNewDeal, truth, verse

 

snow covered mountain under blue sky

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Pexels.com

 

You think you are a stone. 

I say, we are a mountain. 

You think you are a thread. 

I say, we are a tapestry. 

You think you are a drop. 

I say, we are an ocean. 

 

big waves under cloudy sky

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We are a mighty mountain 

A million men and women wise

Surprise! Surmise

What we can do —

You and you and me and you!

 

snow capped mountain

Photo by Life of Wu on Pexels.com

 

We are a tapestry: 

Rainbow rayed with light arrayed;

A pattern that will still unfold

Reveal our true color: bold

Share inventions not yet played. 

 

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We are an ocean 

A wave, a tide, a tidal wave

A thousand miles wide,

If we can summon brave 

Feel our brotherhood; eschew false pride.  

 

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Believe not those whose only play is hate and fear;

Empty promises that hide behind a hidden tier; 

Russian dolls and chopping halls, 

Down and drown in putrid falls,

Flimsy flash and dazzle — naught inside. 

 

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Voices of the damned divide and hide

The nature of the power of the people all in unity.

Czars seek division; cheat with false impunity. 

Have no love; offer no warm hand;

An iron glove; a loud brass band. 

 

abstract barbed wire black white black and white

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

You think you are a stone. 

I say, we are a mountain. 

You think you are a thread. 

I say, we are a tapestry. 

You think you are a drop. 

I say, we are an ocean. 

 

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—————————————————-

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Watershed Virus

Life is a Dance

The Declaration of Interdependence

Author Page on Amazon

Index of “best practices” in teamwork and collaboration

Comes the Reign

Trump Truth Treason

The Ailing King of Agitate

 

Push Forward (or Sideways or Backwards)

10 Monday Aug 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

authoritarianism, Democracy, fascism, kakistocracy, KGB, NRA, pandemic, polltics, Resistance, Totalitarianism, Trumpism, truth

photo a man and woman doing martial arts

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Sometimes, you do literally have to push forward against evil that pushes you. 

But think. Not always. 
What is your opponent’s real target? What do you really have to defend against? Sometimes, if someone charges you, head bent in anger, it’s better to step aside, place your hands on their back and gently help them on their way. Sadly, this sometimes results in their falling on their face, ungratefully as well as ungracefully. But that cannot be blamed on you. You were just trying to help, after all.

I recall a similar trick from cowboy shows and such. Someone comes at you and instead of coming at them, you back away, grab their hands and roll backwards, putting both your feet on their torso. As they rock over you, you push your feet out flinging them behind you. I did actually successfully accomplish this a few times as a kid. 

photo of male gymnast practicing on gymnastic rings

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Direct confrontation is also useful because it continues to send a signal that there are others out there equally committed to resisting tyranny. But pick battles carefully. You don’t want to pick battles that will splinter your cause or ones that you will lose both tactically and in such a way that you have lost strategic advantage as well. 

Remember not to underestimate your adversary. It is not being orchestrated by the Liar-in-Chief. It is likely being orchestrated by ex-KGB/Russian oligarchs and/or American oligarchs who have already compromised a portion of government. They know what they’re doing. They’ve studied our weaknesses for decades. And now they are exploiting them more than ever. 

broken glass on wooden surface

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Racism. Misogyny. Homophobia. Xenophobia. Lack of self-discipline. Greed. Shallow Thinking. Impulsivity. Anti-intellectualism. Etc. The litany could go on. America’s always been a work in progress and we’re no-where near perfect. All these weaknesses have their own inevitable costs to our society, with or without help from Moscow. But they can push on those cracks to make them wider. And, they have been, for decades, trying to sabotage our efforts to have our society become more open, freer, fairer, more just, and productive along with a higher quality of life. Now, the sabotage has moved into the all-out push. With Trump, they have a wrecking ball. They will have him wield the power of the Presidency to destroy as much of America as possible before early January. 

In the middle of a pandemic, we must work especially hard at keeping the fabric of society from fraying completely. However much you think you are showing your appreciation for others, especially across all boundaries, double it; triple it. We need to see ourselves as having one objective — not being enslaved by a tyrant. 

Once absolute rule were to be instantiated, it would be bloody difficult to revert to democracy. 

industry metal vintage technology

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

Let’s imagine what this might be like. One of the first moves, of course, will be to claim criminal charges against all of Trumputin’s political opponents. They will all be show trials, of course, using made up evidence. But how will the jury be sure of that? Run their own forensics tests? No, of course not. You see that once the Justice Department becomes the Injustice Department, absolutely no-one is safe.

Imagine. The local police chief takes a shine to your little girl or boy — away they go. What are you going to do about it? Complain? To whom? Going to tell a reporter? What reporter? Oh, you mean the one put in place by the Misadministration? The one who will be quickly replaced and possibly knee-capped if he writes anything critical of the Misadministration? The one who’s boss, the editor, is also on the take and has to approve everything before it’s printed. That one? I don’t think that reporter will have much to say about the kidnapping. Probably left wing terrorists, doncha know?

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Or, let’s say you own a local, home-made donut shop. You really do make damned good donuts and everyone in town, and even the surrounding towns knows it too. Especially the cinnamon sugar! For awhile, it looked as though covid might just destroy your business and the nest egg you’d set up. But, in fact, you made a few changes and reassured all your customers and by god if business hasn’t been better than ever! People don’t feel comfortable dining inside a restaurant, but they can call in their order to you, drive by, and pick up nice tasty fresh donuts. Almost like eating out with far less expense and risk of getting sick.

donuts hanging on wooden surface

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Well, now under the Trumputin dictatorship, it turns out that a friend of a pretty wealthy Russian oligarch has always wanted to retire and run a donut shop. Yours has great reviews so now it’s his. No, you don’t get money for it. Or maybe you did get half a fair price, but you didn’t really want to give it up for any price. One way or another, you are not happy. This isn’t “free enterprise” or “capitalism” or “competition” — no, it isn’t. What did you expect? Trump is the most cowardly person I can think of — he doesn’t want to compete in a fair contest of any kind. It’s not his thing. Even if he could have won 2020 fairly, he wouldn’t do it. Cheating is what gives him pleasure. If won without cheating, half the fun of destroying America would be gone. That’s the nature of his character and eventually that kind of cheating attitude permeates everything like the smell of a skunk. And, by the way, it turns out the that friend of a pretty wealthy Russian oligarch is both a horrible cook and a horrible manager! The donuts are for $hit and none of the employees are happy. But they are not allowed to quit. And the patrons? If anyone asks their opinion, they had damned well better say these donuts make them get down on their knees and thank GOD that the donut shop changed hands. Want to keep complaining? Fine, the gracious government has secured another spot for you to ply your cooking skills up in some Siberian prison camps. Goodbye.

The cancerous corruption that starts at the top, of course, eventually filters down to state governments, local governments, societies, book clubs, bowling leagues. As in Stalin’s Russia, no-one trusts anyone. Kids betray their parents. Parents betray each other. Step out of line, you die. Maybe you die at once. Maybe we sent you to Siberia to die slowly as with ex-cooks who complain. Either way, you die. Either way, by stealing you out of the fabric of your neighborhood, your family, and your network of friends & colleagues, the Trumputin Misadministration has damaged all of those fabrics as well. They have reinforced the message that the only thing you can really count on is a government who will always be there for you. Until you don’t behave exactly and precisely as you’re told to. If you fight, then the entire force of that gigantic faceless stone will be crushed down your face.

And, you will not be able to go to reporter. And you will not be looking for a good lawyer because everyone knows the conclusion of your trial is already pre-determined. And you will not get on social media and complain because nearly all of social media is bot-$hit crazy propaganda supporting the Misadministration.

flight sky sunset men

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Oh, and guns? That will, of course, be one of the most ironic parts of this whole debacle. “Guns Rights” advocates, who for millennia (it feels like) have complained that liberals want to take their guns away — will, in fact, have their guns taken away. This will not be done by the left — who didn’t want to do it anyway, but by the dictatorship. Dictatorships really do take guns away. Yeah! That you were right about all along. The part where it all went sideways though was that although the NRA kept spewing the line that a well-armed citizenry kept us from tyranny, in actual practice, the guys in camo who donned their assault rifles did not stand up to actual terrorists or unmarked private militias. It was more fun, apparently, to stand up to unarmed nurses protesting to get needed equipment in order to save lives or to storm the capital building and protest legislators doing their jobs to save lives. Anyway, you won’t have any more right to own a gun than do Russian citizens. Maybe a few special hunting licenses for “special friends” of the Grand Supreme Leader. That’s it.

Everything is so horrible and absolute power is so absolute you probably think — good god, this will never change. Why did I bring children into this world? But things do change. The first major change of the Trumputin Misadministration is very minor wording change. It will be known henceforth in the shorter version — Putin Misadministration. Trump unfortunately had to be temporarily removed from duty to deal with a strange illness. Doctors think it is not COVID19 where the US death toll is now the best in the world. In a recent press conference Trump was able to inform the AmeriKKKan public that “supplemental autopsies” confirmed that the US only had three total COVID19 deaths while the rest (1.5 million) were all part of a liberal hoax. And those three would have been saved if only they had let the Stable Genius Savior puteth his hands upon them and administereth bleach unto them.

After Trump and his co-traitors all die of similar strange diseases within days of each other, Grand Supreme Leader Putin graciously names replacements for various Senators, Judges, and Cabinet Heads. Everyone in Congress is asked to swear a loyalty pledge to Putin. Those who refuse are never heard from again. 

brown and white snake

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Nothing in this grim scenario is inevitable. If enough people wake up soon enough to see what is afoot, the overthrow of America can be avoided. I hope for everyone’s sake that will happen. Even if not, eventually life, creativity, freedom, fairness — these forces will prevail. The philosophy of hate, like cancer in the human body, can only have temporary victory. In the end, fascism is incompatible with life. Like cancer, it will not create anything useful to the whole, and once it kills its host, it too will die.

“Be steadfast in purpose and flexible in tactics.” 

usa flag waving on white metal pole

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Trumpism is a New Religion

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Watershed Virus

Cancer Always Loses in the End

Unmasked

What about the Butter Dish?

A Profound and Utter Failure

At Least he’s Our Monster

Plans for us; some GRUesome

Absolute is not just a vodka

The Stopping Rule

The Update Problem

Author Page on Amazon

Captain Donny Boy Steers the Titanic (Luckily, the Iceberg was a Liberal Hoax*)

11 Saturday Jul 2020

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

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

fiction, IMPOTUS, leadership, pandemic, parable, parody, politics, psychology, Resistance, satire, story, undedided

white ice formation

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“What iceberg? There’s no iceberg! And, if there is, the sun will come out one day soon and melt it all away. It’s water! Did you know that? Most people don’t know about ice and water actually being the same. Cousins. Sisters. They are cousins. With cousins, it’s okay. But ice – water – and what about ice water? Who would’ve known? Very few people know that. But thank God I am the captain because — did you know this? Hillary would have — I can’t even say it. So crooked. So crooked.
Did I ever tell you about the time I was playing golf at Marlo’s Lango and I hit a hole in one on a par 5? 845 yards straight into the hole. Shattered the flagstaff — er — flagstick — er — maybe I should issue an executive order they should all be American Flags on the flagstaffs. But my shot! My shot! People couldn’t believe it. They said it was a miracle shot. That just happens with me. Miracles. One day the iceberg will just disappear. Poof! It’ll melt and — get this — it will turn into — you ready — water! Isn’t that something? Water. Ice. They’re like lovers, really. Like father and daughter, in a way. It’s really almost incestuous, you know? Ice and Water. But no-body says they have to be all PC and all that jazz. 
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There’s no iceberg! None! It’s a liberal hoax. 
It’s the Chinaberg. The Whoa Floe! The Cuban Cube! But we have — all the life jackets — we have — Mikey, how many — we have trillions of life jackets. No, no, I don’t wear one. It’s not a good look for me. A good look for me is obese, old, wrinkled, and painted orange with my mouth open in a sucking position. Now, *that’s* a good look for me. I like to tilt forward a tad. It — well — off the record — it makes a whole lot more comfortable to walk with that damned cattle probe in there, what with the remote control and all. Anyway, the point is a Life Jacket is not a Good Look for … Me…
smiling man wearing blue framed eyeglasses

Photo by Kelly Lacy on Pexels.com

And besides, if I wear a life jacket, no one can see that vacant eyed suck expression. Or any of my fake expressions. They’re too hidden by the jacket. Not even Vlad could see. Okay, everyone — put on a — oh, I’m tired. Never mind. Have the staff decide for the people around them whether or not they need a life jacket.

What do you mean the ship is tilted? Ridiculous! Sinking? Who’s the captain? Me. So, who’s right? Not sinking. Not sinking. Fire anyone who says that!!
climate cold road landscape

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

 
No, I take no responsibility. I am perfect. Did you know — did I ever tell you how smart I am? I am a — what they call a — stable genius. Stable. Genius. I’m so smart they made up a new word for me. Yeah. ‘Stable Genius’ — before that their top category was ‘Genius’ but then, they had to make a new one for me. It’s called — I am so smart — I am I am pretty sure I’m the only one in the Stable Genius category. It’s like — they had to make a new CAT-E-GOR-Y for me. The doctors couldn’t believe it! No! They were like — they thought those — what was that — they were amazed I was — like I got a perfect score. Better than perfect. They said, Mr. Captain, if you ever retire, will you please come be a subject so we can study you, Sir? I said that was very flattering, but I’m going to be needed as Captain here on this ship for a very long time. This ship? WTF? Where is my ship? 
No, I am not going down with the ship. That’s for people who join the service. That would be stupid. I’m needed elsewhere. What do you mean all the lifeboats are gone? Get me one!
Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Vlad promised a helicopter. It’ll be here any minute. Any minute.
 
Vlad? Vlad!?? VLAD!!!???”
* The term “liberal hoax” is simply the “Captain’s” way of saying, “Crap, they caught me red-handed again! Why don’t they just leave me alone & let me do Putin’s bidding.”
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———————————
Trumpism is a new religion.
You Bet Your Life.
It’s Just Tommy Being Tommy.
Rejecting Adulthood.
The Truth Train
The Pandemic Anti-Academic
The Watershed Virus
Unmasked
The Happy Talk Lies

Myths of the Veritas: Inversnaid Revisited

06 Friday Mar 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

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

animal bee bloom blooming

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

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

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Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

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

in distant photo of tree on landscape field

Photo by Sebastian Beck on Pexels.com

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

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

cascade creek environment fern

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

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

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

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

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

Cat Eyes translated for the group. 

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

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

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

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

island during golden hour and upcoming storm

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

brown and white horse

Photo by Rolandas Augutis on Pexels.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

mountain covered with snow

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

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

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

—————————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Inversnaid (by Gerald Manly Hopkins)

 

Checks and Balances

20 Thursday Feb 2020

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

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Checks and Balances, Democracy, Dictatorship, Feedback, politics, Resistance, Rule of Law, truth, tyranny

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Photo by Pille Kirsi on Pexels.com

Checks and Balances. 

Yes, yes, we’ve all heard the term. And, many of us even know that “Checks and Balances” are in the American Constitution and in the foundational documents of other nations as well. But why? Are they really necessary? Aren’t “checks and balances” simply something that “gets in the way” and “slows things down”? 

Let’s see whether “Checks and Balances” are found in other types of systems. Consider a physical system. For instance, in your home, you likely have some source of electricity. Electricity is very useful. It can run refrigerators, TV’s, computers, water pumps, and toasters. If your home is to be safe, its electrical system includes fuses or circuit breakers. Why? 

Basically, a fuse or circuit breaker is there to prevent damage. If you are running an electric motor; e.g., like a drill or a garbage disposal, the motor might get “stuck.” Without a fuse or circuit breaker, the motor will draw more and more current and burn out the motor. Wires can also become frayed, commonly due to rodents eating the insulation, which for some reason, they love. If wire insulation is too frayed, the two ends of a circuit can become directly connected (a “short circuit”) and since the resistance becomes nearly zero, the amperage rises tremendously causing more and more heat which can easily cause a fire. 

orange flame

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Home electrical fires in America account for an estimated 51,000 fires each year, nearly 500 deaths, more than 1,400 injuries, and $1.3 billion in property damage.

(See https://www.esfi.org/resource/home-electrical-fires-184 for more details). 

Yes, electricity is a useful tool! But where there is power and energy, there is also danger. Power and energy must be limited. That’s why your home has fuses or circuit breakers. The idea is that the current must pass through the fuse or circuit breaker and if too much current starts to flow it burns out the fuse (typically a small piece of copper) or “trips” the circuit breaker causing it to shut off current. Your car also has fuses and for much the same reason. 

Your automobile has many “checks and balances.” There is not only an accelerator; it also possesses brakes! Imagine a car that had an accelerator but no brakes. One of the scariest things that can happen when you’re driving is to have the accelerator get “stuck” in the accelerating position. It happened to me once. Even pressing on the brakes hard isn’t enough to slow the car. Or, at least it didn’t seem to do much for me. I was driving an automatic and needed to put the car in neutral. The engine still raced but at least the car slowed down. I kept tapping the accelerator with my foot and eventually it became “unstuck.”

red and yellow hatchback axa crash tests

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Nuclear power plants, elevators, cranes, and so on all have “Checks and Balances” built into them to minimize the chances of a catastrophe when something goes wrong. 

Biological systems, however, sweep the Academy Awards in the category “Checks and Balances.” In fact, life itself can be thought of as energy systems with highly evolved “Checks and Balances.” These “Checks and Balances” happen at the chemical level, at the level of tiny organelles inside a cell, at the level of cells, and at the level of individual bodies such as you and I have. If we get too cold, our hair stands on end and we shiver. Those things warm us up. If we get too hot, we sweat and our skin gets flushed. These two things cool us down. 

If our blood sugar level falls too far, we get hungry. We feel like eating. We eat. We digest food and our blood sugar level goes up. If it does up too fast, our body releases insulin which tends to bring it back down. 

woman wearing black jacket holding doughnut

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By and large, these “Checks and Balances” work remarkably well. In some special circumstances, they fail for one reason or another. For instance, if we get addicted to opioids of any kind, we feel “better” after we take the opioids. We also become more “tolerant” of the drug. To feel “better” will require ever higher doses. When you quit, you feel worse and taking more of the drug makes you feel better. 

For some, gambling, sex, alcohol, and crime itself can function the same way. Many who rob a liquor store are doing it to get the money. But some of the people who rob a liquor store are partly doing it for the thrill. They enjoy doing something criminal in and of itself. Similarly, greediness can serve as an addictive drug. Being unfair and cruel, for such people, is not just the means to an end (e.g., becoming richer). It is the end itself. 

For such a person, taking more than their share of donuts isn’t just about having more donuts. The addictive joy is also in seeing others angry or miserable or hungry. The “Checks and Balances” in such a person are not working well at all. They need to wreak more and more cruelty on others in order to feel “okay” again. 

As I’ve mentioned elsewhere, cancer is essentially greed at the cellular level. A cell somewhere in the body is no longer satisfied with its “normal” nutritional allocation. It is no longer content to perform its function as a muscle cell, brain cell, liver cell or skin cell. Instead, it “decides” that it will no longer perform its actual function. Rather, it is now “demanding” more and more resources from the rest of the body and its only function becomes increasing its own power and control over the rest of the body. Normally, cell growth and reproduction are also controlled by “Checks and Balances.” In fact, when cells become damaged and can no longer function, the body’s immune system normally recognizes that and destroys them. In cancer, however, the sick and greedy cell manages to “convince” the other cells that “everything’s normal” and those cancer cells grow without bound. As the tumor grows, it sucks up more and more of the body’s resources until the whole body dies — including, guess who? The ugly tumorous cancer cells grow without bound because “Checks and Balances” no longer work on them. Cancer cells cannot do anything “useful” for themselves. They are only able to suck value from the host body. So once they kill the host, cancer dies too. 

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Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

“Checks and Balances” are also meant to work in complex social and political systems. For instance, in a democracy, if people are elected and they provide no value to the political body they represent, they will be voted out, in principle. But what if instead of providing value to the body as a whole, they provide value to a very few, very rich people? What if, in return for funneling the resources to those very rich donors, the rich donors help make sure that the candidate gets re-elected — again, and again, and again — even though those politicians only benefit a few. “Checks and Balances” have now failed. 

woman in black dress holding balance scale

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One important society system of “Checks and Balances” is the legal system. Imagine that there were no legal system — no police, no judges, no prosecutors, no juries, no laws. Now, imagine that someone robbed you or harmed your children. What would you do? You wouldn’t go to the police because they wouldn’t exist in such a system. Or, worse, they would be utterly corrupt. Some people would “turn the other cheek” but most people would set out to seek their own justice. They’d steal something of equal or greater value. They would harm the law-breaker’s children. And, it would often happen that they would not only get “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth” but they would try to get “two eyes for an eye” and “two teeth for a tooth.” And, without “Checks and Balances”, who would stop them? The kin of the first criminal would try to stop them and sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. Without agreed upon “Checks and Balances,” crime, violence, rape, theft, would continue to escalate.

Eventually, like cancer, the violence would die. There would be nothing left worth stealing; no-one left living to rape or kill. So, like cancer, the violence would destroy everything of value and then would fizzle out because there would be nothing left to “feed on.” 

A functioning system of “Checks and Balances” results in houses that don’t burn down, bodies that grow strong and reproduce, and societies that prosper. What happens when we destroy the “Checks and Balances”? In the case of a house, in the old days, we could replace your fuses with a copper penny. A copper penny is much thicker than the thin wire in a fuse. It’s very likely we would end up burning your house down. Cells without “Checks and Balances” form cancer. People whose behavior lacks “Checks and Balances” become addicted, often to self-defeating behavior. Societies without “Checks and Balances” become, quite naturally, more and more unbalanced. This, in turn, leads to violent revolution (as happened in the American, French, and Russian revolution) or being overrun by other countries (as happened in ancient Rome).  

photo of person wearing guy fawkes mask

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There are several main types of action that we can take to try to prevent the destruction of our own society. To the extent that any official “Checks and Balances” still exist, we can throw our own energy into slamming on the emergency brake. We can vote. We can encourage others to do the same. 

We can try to “disconnect” the source of power from the “car.” We can push for impeachments, indictments, recusals, article 25 invocations. We can encourage others to do the same. 

We can also try to perform actions that “should be” part of the normal “Checks and Balances” by ourself. If some group of people are being unfairly targeted for instance, we can go out of our way to make that unfairness less unfair. We can encourage others to do the same. 

i voted sticker lot

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If one group of people is amassing power and wealth in an uncontrolled fashion, we can individually resist letting more of our own power and wealth get into their hands. We can encourage others to do the same. 

We can voice our opposition to a cancerous and corrupt system that has destroyed “Checks and Balances.” We can encourage others to do the same. 

———————-

Author Page on Amazon. 

A parable about the logical outcomes of unfettered greed and lying. 

An essay about why cancer must die. 

A Sci-Fi story about an AI system without proper Checks and Balances. 

Wilbur’s Story

19 Wednesday Feb 2020

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

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

bravery, cowardice, Democracy, fascism, Resistance, tyranny, war

{Starting in the fifth grade, Wilbur was my next door neighbor. We are entering a time of great danger, as are the Veritas. It will be a great danger to do anything to thwart the Putin administration. Yet, not doing anything may be a greater danger. So, I thought this recounting would be apropos.)

flight sky sunset men

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Wilbur’s dead. Died in Nam. And, the question I keep asking him is: “Did it help you face the Danger? All those hours together we played soldier?”

Wilbur’s family moved next door from West Virginia when I was eleven. They were stupendously uneducated. Wilbur was my buddy though. We were rock-fighting the oaks of the forest when he tried to heave a huge boulder over my head. Endless waiting in the Emergency Room. Stitches. My hair still doesn’t grow straight there. “Friendly fire.”

More often, we used wooden swords to slash our way through the blackberry and wild rose jungle of The Enemy; parry the blows of the wildly swinging grapevines; hide out in the hollow tree; launch the sudden ambush.

cascade creek environment fern

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We matched strategy wits on the RISK board, on the chess board, plastic soldier set-ups. I always won. Still, Wilbur made me think — more than school ever did.

One day, for some stupid reason, he insisted on fighting me. I punched him once (truly lightly) on the nose. He bled. He fled crying home to mama. Wilbur couldn’t stand the sight of blood.

I guess you got your fill of that in Nam, Wilbur.

After years of dangerous jungle combat, he was finally to ship home, safe and sound, tour over — thank God!

He slipped on a bar of soap in the shower and killed himself.

Wilbur answers me across the years and miles: “So much for Danger, buddy,” he laughs, “Go for it!”

close up photo of lion

Photo by Gareth Davies on Pexels.com

Thanks, Wilbur.

Thanks.


Author Page on Amazon.

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

 

Hauntings Across the Time Zones

18 Tuesday Feb 2020

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

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

activism, apathy, Democracy, environment, poetry, politics, Resistance, Veritas

{You may have noticed that what follows is neither a furtherance of the narrative of The Myths of the Veritas, nor an essay about America. But somehow it seems relevant to both. The poem seems to reflect how many people in America currently feel …. and it also reflects what the Veritas would not do.

Hauntings Across the Time Zones

Caught between a rock and a hard place,
I just try to keep busy.
Busy, busy, blocking out the voices,
Surrounding them with noise.
Busy, busy, blocking out the images,
Enveloped in a flashy Vegas fog.

Surf the web and watch TV,
Mobile phone and rushing traffic,
Fast food and faster planes,
Double or nothing,
Promotion and prozac in equal doses.

Yet, instants pop though the time-warp.
I hear my anscestors moaning behind the fridge,
They waver on the overheated car hood.
“Greed never captured what it’s all about.”
Their hoarse multitudinous whispers carry far
Like a stadium roar across a winter’s frozen lake.

Then, an echo from behind the Dieffenbachia maculata:
The possible children of the future asking,
“Will we have water? Will we have bread?
Will we have air? Will we have plutonium? Why are you selling our birthright
For a bowl of plastic?”

Now, I hear the workers in the arches of my running shoes.
Some of them are surprisingly young or old.

But never mind.
I find
Again the busy keys,
Blocking out eternities.
The path is very narrow —
I must travel like an arrow.
I look nor left nor right
I see only black and white.


Return from the Old Place

04 Tuesday Feb 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

environment, legend, myth, nature, Resistance, story, tale, weapons

horse and foal at field

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Many Paths led the small group back toward the Center Place of the Veritas. She contrived to walk near Cat Eyes and Cat Eyes walked behind Jaccim. Thus, Many Paths continued a sort of dialogue with Jaccim. 

“Ask him if the mother horse loves her baby horse.” 

Cat Eyes quickened her step till she walked close to Jaccim. She noticed that he seemed fairly recovered from his injuries. 

“Oh, yes! Very much!” Cat Eyes translated back to Many Paths who then elaborated this idea by asking about all sorts of animals. When she judged that the mind and heart of Jaccim were both prepared, she shifted to a related but different topic. 

“It seems to me the natural order of things. The natural place of adults is to care for children, not to enslave them. We want to teach them but we don’t want to harm them. Ever. Every living thing has a pattern. A pine tree grows in the pine tree pattern. An oak tree grows in the oak pattern. A grape vine grows in the grape vine pattern.” 

in distant photo of tree on landscape field

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A long conversation ensued between Cat Eyes and Jaccim. At last, Cat Eyes looked back over her shoulder to Many Paths. “I think he understands. He understood after I gave your specific examples. I don’t know of a way to say ‘the natural order’ or ‘the natural place’ in ROI. That doesn’t surprise me. They have little respect for the way things are in nature.” 

Cat Eyes walked another hundred yards in silence. At last, she spoke again, loudly enough for all of them to hear. “It is as though everything in nature is there for them to use…to steal for their own use. So, perhaps it is not surprising that they also steal children away from their parents.” 

Many Paths furrowed her brow. She shook her head. She thought about it and thought about her dream and the dream of She Who Saves Many Lives. She looked out over the beautiful plain below and felt a hollow in her chest much as she felt when Shadow Walker and Tu-Swift were away and possibly dead. Her sorrow and worry now were not for the two people she most loved, but for her the entire tribe whom she loved. If these people who cared not for nature — these people who stole other people’s children… if they had killing sticks and they were numerous and cruel, this might all be destroyed — all the beauty, all of nature, all of the Veritas. Everyone and everything that she loved. Gone.

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For a moment, she pointed her hand toward Jaccim’s back. Her nostrils flared and she saw flames shoot from her hands and burn him badly. Then, Many Paths shook her head to wipe the fantasy from her mind. She felt she had reason to hate these ROI and the only one in sight was Jaccim. Yet, she may need him in more ways than one. 

A more central reason for her sudden anger was that she seemed completely unable to understand this man’s heart. She had all seven rings of empathy and she still had no idea how he could look at the world the way it seemed he did. But she must try. What if there were some useful truth in the way he looked at the world even though it was distasteful to her? And, even if that turned out not to be the case, it was certainly the case that understanding the way he thought would be of enormous use in case of war, or, in case of slavery. She had to try, for the sake of everyone she loved, to try to understand this man’s heart and mind. It is clear, Many Paths suddenly thought to herself — I must learn this man’s language. “Cat Eyes!” 

“Yes?” 

“I want you to teach me ROI. Will you?”

“Certainly. But really, you should learn from Jaccim. He knows it much better and he speaks with the … the flourish of the way the words are spoken. Perhaps…perhaps it would be good for everyone to know all the languages, at least some. Do you think so, Many Paths?”

“Yes. I certainly do.” Then, Many Paths thought to herself, how can the people do all that needs to be done though? She had taken the lead for awhile and suddenly a hart leapt across her path only a short distance ahead. She was thrilled with the beauty of the deer — as though all the parts worked together with the single goal of staying alive. That’s what we need to do with the Tribe as well, I think. Yes. I must explain all the plans, but different persons of the Veritas will be responsible for different parts. But we will all know the whole of it. And I may not even know all the parts we need, but there’s already a fair number. 

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There is the matter of the Killing Sticks. We need to know more about them, but we also need to begin thinking about other weapons in case we cannot get them. Eagle Eyes would be good for that. But…she’d also be important in leading reconnaissance to the Walled Camp of the Z-Lotz, both because she’d been there and because of her superior eyesight. I could lead the thinking on alternative weapons, at least until we know more about the nature of the Killing Sticks. Some of the Veritas, but not all, should put energies into knowing as much as possible about these people who seem not to care about nature. But they are of nature. How can this be? How can this be? It is like a child hating his own mother. Perhaps that is why they steal people’s children. Perhaps such a child hates their own mother for not protecting them. Then, such a person might also not feel the truth of their connection to the Tree of Life. Yet, Cat Eyes seems all right. She’s not … disconnected. I think it’s time for a talk with She Who Saves Many Lives. 

Many Paths reflected ruefully that her usual joy in walking back toward the Center Place of the Veritas was marred by her own thoughts. Once she decided to lead the group that would think about weapons, she could not turn that stream off. Instead of noticing the brilliant pink glow of some Lady Slippers growing near a stream, she thought of their medicinal properties as a soporific. She began to wonder how much would be required to poison opposing warriors, or, if it came to that, slave-owners. Poppy Pods could be used the same way. Cat Eyes had said that some of the slave children of the Z-Lotz had found ways to thwart their overseers. She herself had managed to sicken those who “owned” her. She had never used enough poison to kill anyone, not because she would feel guilty, but because it would increase the chances of being found out. She would typically contrive, not to sicken everyone in a family, but one person at a time, so that every few weeks, one or the other would find themselves retching all day or unusually tired. That way, her captors had simply assumed an illness was working its way through the family. She would feign these symptoms herself so as to avoid suspicion. 

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And, now, instead of enjoying the delicate blooms of the Lady Slippers for their own sake, Many Paths found herself eyeing everything in the field and the forest as a possible tool — a weapon of defense or offense. Wasn’t this frame of mind exactly what the ROI themselves did? And, according to Cat Eyes, this was also the true way that the most powerful and richest among the Z-Lotz viewed the world. Though they would put on a show of being consumed with piety, they were constantly scheming to get more through work or artifice or treachery. 

Many Paths wondered if she was simply feeding the bad wolf within herself. Would she become so consumed with how to destroy the lives of those who would kill or enslave the Veritas that she herself would lose the capacity to feel for others? Was there a path to peace that did not run through the fire of war? I must speak of this with She Who Saves Many Lives, she thought again. And, I will speak of this with Shadow Walker as well. Perhaps he and I can help each other keep the light of love alive through the coming trials. 

Shadow Walker had said that the People Who Steal Children had made no effective attempt to cover their trail. Perhaps they had spent so long plotting and scheming to get more that they no longer saw the impact of their own actions on the world. Or, perhaps, they could still cover their trail but believed so much in the superiority of their numbers and their weapons that they didn’t bother. Maybe hiding hoof prints is just too difficult and time consuming. She did not want to become a person who saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing except for how it furthered or did not further her plans to hurt others. 

Maybe, she reflected, there is a way to turn the minds of the Z-Lotz back to pleasurable things and back toward harmony. She Who Saves Many Lives had tried to do this with POND MUD and ALT-R. But they were somehow beyond — it seemed they had fallen in some way. Tu-Swift had hurt his knee fleeing the flames. He might — or might not — be permanently marred in his running. Perhaps ALT-R and POND MUD had been marred in their souls to such an extent that they could not ever have been healed. She had tried. Others had tried. And, what of this man NUT-PI? From all accounts, he seemed to actually enjoy inflicting pain on others. That might be a type of wound of the soul that festers and never recovers. In rare cases, she knew that the infection of a wound could sometimes festers and the sickness of the wound spreads until it destroys the human body of a person, no matter what medicines are given, or how many healing songs are sung. Is this what had happened with ALT-R and POND MUD? And, NUT-PI? Could this happen to Many Paths herself if she kept dwelling on all the different ways to sicken, maim, hurt, thwart the Z-Lotz? 

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Original drawing by Pierce Morgan

She hoped not. Yet, even as she walked this path, one of her favorites, she looked at a different forest, a different field — one less filled with life. It was a path on which things of use rather than things of beauty stood out for her. Saplings became spears in waiting. Thorn Apples became possible two-part weapons. She could coat the thorns in a poison from the leaves and then arrange for the thorns to penetrate the skin. Rocks along the path reminded her of slings. Slings and rocks. These were weapons that could always be ready to hand for a people who were captured. Tu-Swift himself had used a small rock to sabotage some of the weapons of the ROI. 

Many Paths tried to drink in the beauty surrounding her with the eyes of her youth, and she could, but now it seemed an effort. After all, if she could not help lead her people so as to prevent the destructive war that seemed inevitable, there might not be any beauty left to drink. In the Battle of the Three Paths, two would-be enemies had been persuaded not to fight. But they had had to fight the Cupiditas. Those people could not be deterred, at least in any way that anyone had yet discovered. She resolved to spend some part of each day reminding herself of the way of seeing which was to feel the inner beating heart that she shared with all living things. But for the rest, she would dedicate herself to finding many weapons of war, the most important among those weapons being yet the way of peace. Perhaps, thought Many Paths, if the way of the Z-Lotz and the ROI is to stop seeing the harmony of nature, we can use the harmony of nature that they no longer see as a kind of weapon to destroy them. Or, maybe we can somehow rekindle that love-sight in their souls. 

Many Paths began to sing the legend of the Forgotten Field of Flowers and soon Cat Eyes and Tu-Swift began to sing along. Jaccim improvised a humming beat to accompany. Singing one of the songs of her people put Many Paths in a more harmonious mood and as she glanced to the northern horizon, the flashes of lightning in the dark clouds filled her with awe. The storm was headed their way, but she relished the smell of summer rain and looked forward to the downpour. 

island during golden hour and upcoming storm

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Many Paths came to the end of her song. To her surprise, Cat Eyes kept singing! She sang verses that Many Paths had never before heard. Cat Eyes sang with a beautiful clear voice. She sang with joy and she sang with a profound sadness at the same time. The voice of Cat Eyes filled the heart of Many Paths and she wondered yet again what deep wounds had been cut into the very heart of Cat Eyes and how those wounds had been healed. Perhaps that was also a weapon whose secrets must be discovered.

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Essay Index for 2019

03 Friday Jan 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 45 Comments

Tags

2019, America, essays, index, Resistance, story, Storytelling, summary

Thanks, dear reader, for stopping by! Happy New Year!

photo of fireworks

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In 2019, my blog saw roughly 14,000 views from 122 different countries spanning every continent but Antartica. If you happen to know someone in Antarctica, I’d appreciate it if you could get them to stop by and comment on something for 2020. Even if you don’t know anyone in Antarctica, you could move there, but that’s likely too much to ask. Anyway, comments are always welcome from any part of the globe.

This post is meant to make finding things within this blog a little easier by providing an index.

There were three main topics that I dealt with in 2019.

Informal Lessons on Stories, Storytelling, & Their Use in Creating Value.

Essays about contemporary politics and psychology.

Book II of The Myths of the Veritas.

I began with a series of expository posts on stories and storytelling. These were associated with a design course I taught at the University of California, San Diego. These informal articles should prove useful for business leaders, writers, and particularly for those in HCI, UX, design, Human Factors and related fields. Stories are useful throughout the design, development, and deployment of systems and services. Below is an index to those informal papers on stories and storytelling.

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The Story of Story: 1

The Story of Story: 2

The Story of Story: 3

The Story of Story: 4 (Character)

Using Story in Design – 1

Using Story in Design – 2

Using Story in Design – 3

Using Story in Design – 4

Using Story in Design – 5

The second major class of posts are essays. Mainly, these essays have been inspired by actual 2019 events, large and small. Beyond the immediate danger of Trump, there are also additional essays and these are indexed below as well.

What’s Wrong with People, Anyway?

Essays on America: You Bet Your Life!

Doing the Dishes.

Essays on America: Winning by Cheating is Losing. It is not Winning

Corn on the Cob (An Essay on Gratitude).

three yellow corn cobs bell pepper cucumbers and chili peppers

Photo by Adonyi Gábor on Pexels.com

Essays on America: How do you Re-culture a Culture? 

Mobility

Essays on America: Declaration of Interdependence

Essays on America: Labelism

Essays on America: Wimbledon 

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Mueller Time?

Finding the Mustard

Essays on America: A Tale of Two Nannies

Essays on America: A Little is not a Lot.

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Essays on America: Ice.

Essays on America: The Game

Essays on America: “At Least he’s our Monster!”

A Once-Baked Potato

baked potatoes with rosemary garnish

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Essays on America: A Profound and Utter Failure

Essays on America: Sexual Fantasies for Political Gain? 

Horror Story

close up photo of spider

Photo by Michael Willinger on Pexels.com

Essays on America: Level the Playing Field 

Interview with Giant Slug

Essays on America: RIP, GOP.

Essays on America: “It’s Just Tommy being Tommy.”

baby child close up crying

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Essays on America: “It’s your call!”

Essays on America: Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing.

Essays on America: The Screaming Defense

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

The final class of posts are fictional. With the last post of 2019, I finished Book Two of The Myths of the Veritas. These will be indexed tomorrow in a separte post.

——————————

Next year, I will finish the trilogy of The Myths of the Veritas in the blog. I also plan to publish four books next year. Two of these will be the first two books of The Myths of the Veritas.

A different book will comprise a Pattern Language for Collaboration and Teamwork. The fourth book will be Essays on America. 

All of these should be available on Amazon.

Happy New Year!!

photography of fireworks display

Photo by DreamSky on Pexels.com

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