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Myths of the Veritas: Recipe, Ritual …

23 Sunday Aug 2026

Posted by petersironwood in creativity, fiction, Veritas

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books, collaboration, cooperation, empathy, fantasy, fiction, governance, leader, leadership, legend, management, myth, safety, short story, story, trust, ubuntu, Veritas, writing

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, 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: the happy voices of 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 someone or something 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

Some recommended books:

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

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

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

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

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

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

To Addison Mitchell the III

11 Saturday Jun 2022

Posted by petersironwood in America, family, poetry, politics

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Tags

Democracy, gun, life, poem, poetry, politics, safety, shootings, truth, USA

Photo by samer daboul on Pexels.com

Do not 

Do not pretend to care

Don’t you dare

Pretend to care

Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

Bloated blaggart 

Yacht-boated braggart

Coward to the nth degree

Weasel words and wobble words

All about the free 

A well-rehearséd fantasy

Photo by Rebecca Zaal on Pexels.com

Your suit and tie and fancy shoe 

They show in fact, what’s really you

Campaign cash ill-promised gold 

Yours a story centuries old 

Photo by Naomi Shi on Pexels.com

Do not pretend to care 

Don’t you dare

Don’t you dare pretend to care

Photo by Archie Binamira on Pexels.com

 

You’re owned lock, stock, and barrel 

By a foreign funded PAC

By a putrid agent gone quite feral. 

And all you do is yack yack yack

Your tongue is forked 

Your belly porked

Your heart is corked

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Do not pretend you really care

Do not presume

Do not resume 

Your play of tears

Across the years

Your promises of thought

Your promises of prayer

When all you do is nought

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Do not pretend you really care

The powder burns upon your sleeves

Your blood-stained lips and pasty face

Your utter lack of human grace

You care much more for bills in sheaves

Than children dying day by day

You sit & munch on curds and whey

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Do not pretend to care

Don’t you dare 

Don’t you dare pretend to care

A coward’s coward’s coward

There’s nothing more untoward

Than a mealy-mouldy turtle 

You contemplate an inch high hurdle 

You remain too yellow to leap

You remain too sick and cheap 

You nibble your crumpet

You cheat and lie to grease your palm 

Dead shark eyes your jowls are calm

Photo by Max Fischer on Pexels.com

Do not pretend you care 

Do not pretend you care

Everyone’s bones grow eventually bare 

Long after life so long as there are eyes to see

Your name will live in infamy

So long as there is one last shred

Of humanity 

Or memory

Uncountable deaths of kids are clearly on your head

You soullessly stand in halls of power

Do nothing but whine at the ultimate hour

Watching children ripped apart

While you play-act your well-learned part 

A thousand horses and then the cart

Your well-practiced lines of lies 

Mumbo jumbo mumbled and tumbled

While another innocent dies

Another opportunity bumbled

Another step stumbled 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Do not pretend to care

Don’t you dare

Pretend to care

Photo by Max Fischer on Pexels.com

Just as a cancerous cell

Pretends to be well

So too do you

Pretending all the while

Wearing your dead-eyed smile

Pointing fingers everywhere

Fingers pointed everywhere

Unarmed teachers

Dearth of preachers

Photo by judit agusti aranda on Pexels.com

 

“Let’s re-make schools be just like prisons

Let’s give every teacher a heavy gun!

Let’s make school shootings loads more fun”

Photo by u5468 u5eb7 on Pexels.com

Do not

Do not

Do not pretend

Do not dare

Do not dare to pretend you care

Do not dare to pretend you care

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com

The NRA has bought a beach- 

Head, impossible to reach

The beaches sing each to each

Putin thinks that we will all sit calmly by

And eat our peach

Sand and all 

While children die and checks get cashed

Our future trashed

Bigger yachts are shipped and shined

Bigger mansions bought and sold 

Bigger wads of cash are rolled

Bigger steaks are grilled and dined

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


Do not pretend

Do not pretend you care

Do not dare

Do not dare

Do not send thought

You’re already bought

Do not send prayer

And do not dare

To pretend to care

Dick-Taters

Plans for US; some GRUesome

Beware of Sheep in Wolves’ Clothing

Blood Red Blood

Thrumperdome

The Crows and Me

Ripples

Family Matters: Part One

The US Extreme Court

Clarence, but not Darrow

American Dream

Get the Important Message

07 Sunday Nov 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

driving, fiction, safety, story

“Joe?” 

Sally waited a moment and repeated her call in a louder voice which she hoped did not sound desperate. She didn’t want to sound desperate. After all, she wasn’t desperate. At least, that’s what she told herself as she tried to control her breathing.

“JOE!? You’re not funny! Where are you? Where the hell are you?” 

Silence. She wondered why her voice sounded so hoarse.

“This game is stupid, Joe. I’m done. I’m leaving.” That was when Sally noticed the smell of onions. “What the hell? Are you cooking? What is that? Steak with … Onions? Garlic?” 

Photo by Erik Mclean on Pexels.com

Sally closed her eyes and concentrated on slowing her breathing. That will avoid panic, she told herself. It’s not like Joe to play these games.

She succeeded, at least a little. She opened her eyes and looked about. The light, if it could even be called that, only revealed shifting shadows — various shades of dark gray. I should never have agreed to come here.

Here? 

Now, Sally really did begin to panic in earnest. She muttered aloud, “Where is here anyway? Where the hell am I? How can I have forgotten?” 

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Unable to see more than a few feet…inches?…in front of her, she was reluctant to take a big step so she decided to sidle along slowly till she reached some light. But she couldn’t sidle. She couldn’t move her legs at all, she discovered. 

She shook her head in order to clear it. That turned out to be a big mistake. Her head exploded in pain. A field of black stars screamed into her ears and eyeballs. 

Then, a clear image came to her. 

Driving. They had been driving home from the party, late at night. She had been driving. Joe had been beside her, sound asleep on the passenger side, his plush seat fully reclined. He had been snoring. Loudly. 

She had heard that familiar chirp, the high pitched screech cutting through his buzzing snore. She had glanced down at her cellphone. Celine. Sally had wondered what she wanted. Sally had glanced over at Joe and noted how blue he looked in the light of the oncoming headlights. She had begun to text her response, making it short just to be safe.

Apparently, not safe enough, she thought. 

The pungent odor brought her back to the present. “Joe! What the hell are you cooking? It’s too … are you cooking in the car, for God’s sake? What’s wrong with you? What the hell, Joe? Why won’t you answer me! Answer me!”

“Do you mind if I turn on the A/C? I’m too damned hot!” 

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Sally had always been excellent at puzzles. This particular one was taking longer than usual. At last though, the pieces slammed together. She knew what the strange odor was. She knew why she couldn’t see properly. She knew why she couldn’t move her limbs. She knew why she was hot. Everything made perfect sense.  

Everything except for the fact that she had only glanced down at the text for a few seconds. 

Her last thought: “I shouldn’t have to burn for it!”

—————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Selected Short Stories:

As Gold as it Gets

Do Unto Others

What Could be Better? 

I Can’t be Bothered

Tit for Tot

It Couldn’t Happen to a Nicer Guy

One for the Road

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