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~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

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Tag Archives: truth

Bear Hunting for Father’s Day

21 Sunday Jun 2026

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

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books, family, fiction, hunting, karma, life, predator, prey, short story, stalking, story, truth, wilderness, writing

To avoid tipping off their prey, the father and son both seemed to know instinctively to mostly communicate via posture, glance, and gesture. 

This enabled them to approach their prey without startling them, particularly because they lumbered along quietly and downwind. Though neither would have articulated this out loud in explicit words, they also experienced tighter bonding with this nonverbal method of coordination and the shared careful attention to detail.

The summer’s day began mild and cloudy. Locals often spoke of “May Gray” and “June Gloom.” True, days often began with the sun hiding behind a thick layer of clouds. Generally, however, the clouds completely dissipated well before noon. Today was no exception. 

For most, the day itself caused feelings of excitement and anticipation. Hunting heightened those feelings. Every step required care. One broken twig, or a twisted limb on a loose rock could turn the tables. Prey could become predator. Pleasant enjoyment could easily morph into something far darker. 

Ever so slowly, the pair drew nearer to their intended target—targets actually—there were two. The youngster had been taught well. He, like his dad, only moved when the wind blew.

The dad moved his head back and forth slightly to better gauge the distance to his primary target. An oddly bent scrub oak partially obscured his vision so he chanced the smallest possible lateral step. 

SNAP!

Father’s mouth dried instantly as a rush of adrenaline flooded his body. Sometimes, a split second is all the time available to make a life or death decision. 

Run? Attack? Hide? 

The high-powered rifle flew to a well-practiced shoulder position. The firing pin hit the back of the cartridge which exploded the bullet into its thoughtless supersonic race. The race ended as the bullet smashed into a scrub oak trunk.

————

Afterwards, the father and son quickly shredded the clothing of their prey. They then dove immediately into the soft bellies and the intestines within. Papa Bear stared for a moment at the strange shiny stick that lay silent now but that had made such a loud pointless noise. Then he returned his glance to Baby Bear. 

Baby Bear’s face was covered in blood, chyme, and the biggest grin Papa Bear had ever seen. For Papa Bear it was the best Father’s Day Hunt he had ever experienced.

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Author Page on Amazon

It was in his Nature

The Forest

You Must Remember This

Travels with Sadie Joint Problem Solving

Skirting the Turtle

Occam’s Chain Saw Massacre

The Walkabout Diaries Symphony

All Around the Mulberry Bush

Poppa Goes the Weasel

Math Class: Who are You?

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Love and Guns

Family Plan Part One

The Architecture of Karma

Karmic Architecture II

—————

` 

Awake Among the Hollow Men

15 Monday Jun 2026

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

As foretold 

The Shallow Man 

Brings his Shadow Clan

Not big, not bold, 

Just sick and old 

Rotted and cold.

The Cancer Spreads

Manure teds 

The truth unsaid 

Real blood has bled.

Lies arise and Super-Size;

Plasticize;

Metastasize. 

A pinch of greed

Proliferates at lightless speed

And all the goblins dance and feed

On carcasses of innocence, 

Relishing their indolence;

Worshiping the insolence.

At last we have replaced the thorn and rose

With concrete and a snotty nose;

The half-baked plan 

Of an orange man

While sicko fans salute;

Hope his power’s absolute;

Hope that they can catch a crumb, 

That crumbles from the bloody chum.

Their dead shark eyes

Seek out the prey; 

They hate the wise

And feign to pray.

Until the faith becomes entrenched.

And life from everyone is wrenched. 

Why not destroy each living thing?

Why not deploy a million men?

Why not enjoy pretending king? 

Why not? 

Why not grab a child or two? 

Or three or four or plenty more? 


The Shallow man,

Supported by his shadow clan,

Hates the very look of life;

Hates love and beauty;

His only duty:

Clean Putrid’s booty.

The Shallow man 

The Hollow man

The Shallow men

The Hollow men

Is this the way our world ends?

Not with a bang but a wimp out? 

A cowardly clown 

Wears an ill-painted crown 

He’ll scream and stream and shout

But never ever make amends.

This Shallow man

This Hollow man

Friendless, demented

Rings himself with sicko-fans

Paints himself with fakeo-tans

Gives himself prizes that he himself invented.

While a thin wind rattles through the unpicked field

And cowards and greeds flail and yield;

Spew their lies

Which no-one can trust; 

Fight against flies

For the filthy crust

Is this the way our world must end?

With a whimpering wimp at the wheel 

And a creed of greed must serve as the keel?

Two life-forms as different as a bee and a flower find cooperation to be to their mutual benefit.
But two humans can’t figure that out?

This is not how our world must end.

The people, ah, the people, they awake.

They find a way to keep the light.

The people wake and learn to open sight.

The people, ah, the people, they awake. 


They awake.

They awake. 

Listen: You Can Hear the Echoes of Your Actions

11 Thursday Jun 2026

Posted by petersironwood in America, family, health, leadership, management, politics, psychology, Uncategorized

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God, life, philosophy, science, truth, USA

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Life on earth, by our best estimates, is about 4.5 billion years old. If you are lucky enough to live to a “ripe old age” you might live 100 years or slightly more. When you “die” the influence that you had on others will continue to ripple and ripple and ripple. Let’s examine one of the ways in which such ripples may vary qualitatively based on the “rules” that you use to learn about and communicate about your own experience. 

Roughly speaking, we can consider two quite different types of rules that people might use when their own experience appears to contradict the experience of others or their intuitions about what action to take. These rules might be called “The Power Rule” and “The Truth Rule.”

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The Power Rule: I will do my damnedest in every interaction to convince the other person that I am right! I will never give in! How do I know I’m right? Because I’m better than everyone else! If I can’t convince them, I’ll try to make them do what I want anyway.  

The Truth Rule: I will do my damnedest in every interaction to work with the other person to find the truth. That truth might be what I already thought, what they thought, or something completely different. How do I know I’m right? I don’t, but I know I’m getting closer as I go on. 

It should be obvious that a person who follows Rule One will largely be in for a lifetime of trouble. First, they will irritate a huge number of people who disagree with them — not because they disagree — but because they act robotically, when they disagree. They respond to every argument with a pre-programmed counter-argument. If you ever watched “All in the Family” Archie Bunker, you’ll recognize him as the perfect prototype of someone who would not be swayed by science or facts. He has, indeed, a “Bunker” mentality.

Second, a person who always uses “The Power Rule” will make many unnecessary mistakes in life simply because they spent a life refusing to learn something from others if it was in conflict with what they already believed. As a result, they might be “stuck” with a variety of bad habits that they learned early in life but which they would always “defend” rather than change — even though change would have been to their benefit. 

Third, The Power Rule approach has a negative impact, not only on themselves and their families but on everyone they come in contact with. When they interact, they will only either agree or disagree, not discover. By contrast, using The Truth Rule among people with different beliefs and opinions means you can actually discover something new. 

Analogously, most species of complex animals and plants reproduce sexually. There is a reason evolution favors that approach. It allows for faster adaptation to change.  

Of course, all of us are actually mixtures of Rule One and Rule Two. 

I would be very careful with having very many examples of The Power Rule in your repertoire. 

In addition to the issues raised above, it stands to reason that you will have less real influence on others beyond your own lifetime. Our world today is much richer and more comfortable because of the work of people like Mozart, Beethoven, Frank Lloyd Wright, Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Voltaire, Tesla, Edison, Einstein, Galileo. Can we say the same about Hitler, Mussolini, or Stalin? The latter three, along with many other dictators and war-mongers have killed millions. But let’s not forget that those millions are human beings who are, in a very real sense, part of their family. Destroying other people, as well as destroying other species is anti-life. Discovering, learning, solving, communicating honestly — these are life-affirming activities. 

It’s pretty obvious that different political systems are aligned with these different approaches. Hereditary Kings with absolute power, dictators, Czars — they institutionalize and depend on The Power Rule. Democracy and Republics are premised on The Truth Rule. It’s not surprising that science and the arts tend to flourish much more in Democracies. 

Which rule do you find works better for you? 

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——————————————————————-

Try the Truth 

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic 

The Watershed Virus

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Trumpism is a New Religion

Math Class: Who Are You? 

The Invisibility Cloak of Habit

The Update Problem  

The Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Travels with Sadie: Teamwork

The Walkabout Diaries: Tolerance

Https://www.amazon.com/author/truthtable

Myths of the Veritas: All that Glitters …

07 Sunday Jun 2026

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

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books, escape, fantasy, fiction, hope, innovation, leadership, legend, myth, religion, short story, story, tale, truth, Veritas, writing, Z-Lotz

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Over the next several days, Shadow Walker’s memory and thinking improved. That turned out to be a good thing because otherwise, even though he asked, indeed insisted that Tree Vines tell him in excruciating detail everything that had seen from a number of public executions, he himself would have become hopeless. But Veritas were trained from an early age to push away hopelessness and instead to plan. Of course, this did not make them impervious to circumstances. Understanding the reality of one’s circumstances, even if unpleasant, always proved crucial to maximizing one’s chances for survival. 

As Shadow Walker and Tree Vines reviewed the latter’s memories of the killings together, Shadow Walker probed for more and more detail. Veritas early memory training, it became clear to them both, proceeded along similar lines and had similar benefits on both sides of the Twin Peaks. Tree Vines had learned more of the Z-Lotz and ROI languages than Shadow Walker. He explained to Shadow Walker that his friend Eagle Eyes, if she had survived, would likely be in prison not too far away. Rumors were that NUT-PI had planned some sort of giant celebration with lots of torture and killing to take his people’s attention away from a rampant plague that was killing scores of people. Apparently, NUT-PI had at first refused to believe there even was a horrible disease among the Z-Lotz, and then he claimed it was only the impure in spirit or those who were disobedient to him or his interpretations of the Great Sky Bear’s law who had anything to fear. Many from among the most devout of the Z-Lotz had also died. 

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Food and water were scarce. On the one hand, Shadow Walker felt the need to conserve his energy for an escape attempt that might require every ounce of energy. On the other hand, he also needed to keep his bones and muscles strong. So, he exercised for short periods of time, but very vigorously and he encouraged Tree Vines to do the same. The exercises themselves helped them from slipping into a vague and vacant hopelessness. Shadow Walker encouraged the other prisoners to follow suit. At first, only a few joined in, but when the other saw the obvious improvement in mood, they began to join in. 

Shadow Walker avoided dwelling on those aspects of his current reality that most distressed him but he did need to note them. Most disconcerting of all were the uncertainty about Eagle Eyes and the fact that his pouch containing his six Rings of Empathy was missing. He assumed someone had stolen it when he had been clubbed on the head. Somehow, playing with the rings always made him feel closer to Many Paths. Now, he had to be satisfied with closing his eyes and imagining he had the rings. 

Another disconcerting thing was the weight and discomfort of the large extended collar that hung around his neck and then opened up into a kind of chest covering. It seemed to be made of the same stuff as the strange metal door that he had encountered on his first visit to the Z-Lotz and the sword that he had taken in the burnt forrest. All the prisoners had these strange shiny collars. These collars seemed impossible to remove and each prisoner’s had some of the strange marks that Tu-Swift had begun to decode. Every few hours, Shadow Walker’s mind returned to the idea of somehow using these collars as weapons. They should be useful. They were made of the same strange stuff as the swords … but how could they be used when they were so tightly attached? The puzzle maddened him and Tree Vines shared his intuition about their potential value, but other than trying to smash a guard with the chest plate, they couldn’t work out how to remove the blasted thing in order to use it as an effective weapon.

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On sunny mornings, which predominated in the summer, a bright shaft of light streamed into the otherwise dank and cheerless cell. Tree Vines smiled one morning as he sat in this shaft of light and said to Shadow Walker, “Watch this.” At night, a fair number of rats stole into their cell searching for bits of food the prisoners had dropped or overlooked. The prisoners generally shooed them away. Tree Vines used the sun’s reflection off of his metal shirt to chase the rats away. Shadow Walker chuckled appreciatively. “At least, these damned things are good for something.” 

One morning about a week after Shadow Walker’s capture, everyone in the cell awoke early because of a great commotion and chatter among the guards. The prisoners could also hear the hum of activity outside. Their only window was too high up to see anything except sky, but they could tell that a great many people seemed to be gathering and chatting excitedly about something. Soon, the prisoners themselves were speculating, mostly in Z-Lotz, about what was up. The door to the prison cell slid open and many warriors entered along with the guards. For a moment, Shadow Walker considered trying to run out the open door, but there were too many warriors and they were too concentrated. They had swords and clubs and their demeanor made it clear that they would brook no nonsense. They strung a long chain through a hole at the back of the collar. The guards held the ends of the chain and ushered the group outside. 

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They were greeted by a beautiful summer day. They were led over to a long bench. The prisoners needed to squint against the sun which was now high in the sky behind the throne on which NUT-PI sat in his golden crown. Shadow Walker strained to lean forward so he could better look to the left and right. He could see Eagle Eyes! He tried to catch the eye of Tree Vines but with his neck constrained and three people between them, it proved impossible. Shadow Walker caught a glimpse of the man’s face. A worried smile seemed to play over his features like a summer day with racing shadows from passing clouds. Shadow Walker glanced up. There were no clouds today. Only a circling flock of birds high above. 

Shadow Walker craned his neck forward and backward trying vainly to whisper to Tree Vines. He saw that the female prisoners had all been outfitted as well with the same metal collars which, in the case of the women and girls, covered their ribs and stomachs but not their breasts. Suddenly, a loud gong sounded and reverberated through the stone walls of the Z-Lotz city. A man with a very loud voice stood next to NUT-PI intoning: “SILENCE! You may cheer when the rape and torture begin. First, let us hear from our great leader. If you talk while he talks, you will miss the entertainment. You will become part of the entertainment.” Everyone fell silent.

NUT-PI stood and a thick fake smile spread across his lips as he spoke. “Thank you so much for your attention. Our great city has suffered a plague brought by strangers to our fair land. Luckily, because of my leadership, we have defeated this enemy as we defeat all enemies — with strength of purpose and fierce loyalty to me and the words of the Great Sky Bear told through me! Now, that we have defeated this plague, it is time for some much deserved entertainment. First, on offer, we have three score young women and girls. I don’t want to spoil the surprise ending but for starters, they will all be brought before me and forced to look at me.  I can watch them look at my eyes while they are raped. Then, I can watch the life drain out of them as they are slowly strangled. Or not, as is my fancy. Then, we will do the men as well. But first, they can watch their wives and daughters be raped. Guards, bring them one by one over here for my pleasure. Start with the youngest.”

Despite the threat of death, some of the women began to scream and beg for mercy. One voice rang out above the rest. It was the voice of Eagle Eyes. She was not begging for mercy but singing some weird toneless, loud, and long scream. What was she doing, wondered Shadow Walker. She’ll get herself killed right away! He heard a distant echo of her scream from the … no, it wasn’t really an echo, he realized. The pitch was higher. What — ? Then the motion caught his eyes and they reflexively shot upwards. He saw a score of eagles diving toward NUT-PI. A moment later, the Z-Lotz leader also saw the plunging birds. At first, his mouth stood agape, but then, he grabbed his nearby Killing Stick and took aim at them. All at once a host of … bees or butterflies flew around his face. He fired the Killing Stick. So far as Shadow Walker could tell, he missed all the eagles, but several of the nearby Z-Lotz screamed and fell. 

selective photography of flying black falcon
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Shadow Walker shook his head. He couldn’t believe that someone had trained bees or butterflies to … no, no… he realized suddenly that they were not bees or butterflies. Those are reflections, he said to himself. Eagle Eyes and many of the women were adjusting their shiny collars to reflect the sun into the eyes of NUT-PI so that he couldn’t see clearly. Forgetting the guards warnings, he shouted to Tree Vines. “Focus the reflection of your collar and chest plate onto NUT-PI’s face. Tell the others to do the same!” 

At first, a host of reflections scattered around NUT-PI, the gong, and the throne. NUT-PI waved his hands at them as though he were scattering a swarm of bees. Then, a thin and piteous scream emerged from his lips as more and more of the reflections converged on his face. He dropped the Killing Stick as he tore at his eyes and tried to cover his face with his hands. The back of his hands began to burn. The smell of burning flesh seemed to antagonize the eagles who now pecked at the squirming writhing NUT-PI. Blood began to pour from various places. NUT-PI screamed out, “Kill them! Kill them!” 

His guards looked at each other, wondering who it was they were supposed to kill. Prisoners? Eagles? The Z-Lotz? No-one wanted to be responsible for misinterpreting an order. They were still wondering what possible order to follow as NUT-PI collapsed and fell silent. The voice of Eagle Eyes rung out loud and clear. “King NUT-PI is King no more. He dead. He defeated by messenger from Great Sky Bear. Shadow Walker! Guards! Unchain new King. Unchain Shadow Walker! Fulfill great prophesy of Great Sky Bear! He use power of Great Sky Bear. Shadow Walker is King!” 

brown bear in body of water during daytime
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Shadow Walker felt even more confused than when he had been banged on the head and awakened in prison. He squinted and frowned at Eagle Eyes. He vaguely felt the chain being slid out of his collar and the guards did something to unlock it. He had constructed numerous example plans for escape but none of them looked anything like this! Eagle Eyes had her own plan apparently. He walked toward the throne, his mind racing about how to embrace and amplify her plan. A conversation with Cat Eyes sprung into his head. Many of the Z-Lotz did not even believe anything about their religion, but they all acted as though they did. If that were true, maybe he could convince them that he was their new king. No, he corrected himself. He didn’t need to convince them. He only needed to act as though he were king and they would accept it. They had accepted NUT-PI as their ruler — clearly a deranged and cruel leader who cared almost nothing about his own people. He had been a coward at the battle of the three roads and he was a coward in ruling and a coward in death. 

Play the part, Shadow Walker told himself. Play the part. Slowly and with as much dignity as he could summon, he strode to the throne. The birds jumped away for a moment as he neared and he noticed among the wreckage of NUT-PI’s finery, the leather pouch which held the Rings of Empathy. He snatched it up. He looked out at his audience of prisoners, ROI, and Z-Lotz. He could see that many were still sick, swaying feverishly and covered with ugly red dots on their faces and hands.

He thought: This is NUT-PI’s idea of “conquering” the plague? No time for that. People expect me to be leader, so that’s what I need to be, at least for now. He glanced at Eagle Eyes and allowed the slightest flicker of a smile to cross his face. 

Shadow Walker turned to face the crowd. He wished he could speak more fluent ROI or Z-Lotz, but he didn’t. So he used sign language to enhance communication. He forced himself to speak in a strong steady voice.

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“Greetings, brave and strong people of the Z-Lotz and ROI. I have bested your king. I am now king. That is your way. Our way. The way of the Great Bear in the Sky. The Great Sky Bear told me to come here. The Great Sky Bear said that Z-Lotz need new King. Old King did not help you cure your plague. Old King was cruel. Old King hated families. Old King liked killing. Great Sky Bear does not like killing for no reason. Great Bear of the Sky loves you. Great Sky Bear loves all things that swim, fly, and walk. Great Bear of the Sky does not love Killing Sticks. Shadow Walker swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he tried to break the Killing Stick. Perhaps it would kill him first. He considered taking it and throwing it in a lake or burying it, but destroying it immediately would be far more dramatic…and far less safe. He noticed where people had been hurt. The Killing Stick was pointed toward them like a spear or an arrow. So, he made sure that part of the Killing Stick was pointed away from everyone as he smashed it against the stones behind the throne. 

After he did that, he heard a cheer. It was Eagle Eyes. But many joined her cheer. He did not want to lose that energy and have people begin to miss NUT-PI. So, he continued to speak. “I bring you great news from Great Sky Bear. No more are we to steal children. The Great Sky Bear loves families. The Great Sky Bear loves families together, not apart. Release the prisoners! The men had already released themselves, but now the guards released the women and girls as well. It seemed that nearly all prisoners were part of families. Shadow Walker reflected that all of these people had come to the middle of town to watch entertainment, so he’d better provide some and quickly, he reckoned.

He thought: But what? What?

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—————————————-

The Creation Myth of the Veritas. 

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myth of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy.

 Author Page on Amazon.

First of several stories about a child sociopath. 

Three poems about a pandemic: 

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

     The Watershed Virus

Trumpism is a new religion

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

Somewhere a Bird Cries

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

The Dance of Billions

 

Red Death Plague Rage Assuaged

04 Thursday Jun 2026

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

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books, contagion, empathy, ethics, fantasy, Feedback, fiction, leadership, legends, myth, pandemic, politics, short story, story, truth, Veritas, writing

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Tu-Swift busied himself for days walking to the river for water in order to help She Who Saves Many Lives with her ministrations to the many Veritas who had fallen ill. The most recent victim was Sooz. Tu-Swift helped her imbibe some of the special healing tea that the elder Shaman prepared. But no matter what, he couldn’t seem to bring the fever down. At one point, as he sat on the ground beside her, holding her hand, and resting, he noticed that his knee was not bothering him. Tu-Swift found this a little surprising because he had been walking so much to help assuage the sick. He wondered whether the walking could actually somehow help mend his knee. He looked over at Sooz. He thought about the first time he had ever noticed her. One of the things he found attractive about her, aside from her wonderful scent, was her beautiful smooth skin. Now she smelled of stale sweat and her skin had erupted into a mountain range of red dots. He found it odd that her current state did nothing to diminish her love for her. In fact, he felt closer to her than ever. 

Tu-Swift paid no conscious attention to anything beyond Sooz. Yet, his experiences kept a part of his mind ever attuned to the outside world. He felt, more than heard, the growing buzz of excitement outside. He pulled open the flap of Sooz’s cabin door and saw many of the Veritas pointing and talking excitedly. His eyes followed he pointing and there seemed to be some commotion on the hillside on the border of the Center Place. It was hard to make out faces, but he immediately recognized the garb of Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah. Tu-Swift swallowed hard and his heart began to beat hard. He loved Suze, but he missed Cat Eyes so much! He hadn’t realized till this moment how much he missed her. He forgot about his hurt knee entirely and loped toward the commotion. He spotted Trunk of Tree next — hard to miss his big frame — and he smiled to recognize Fleet of Foot. And, he nodded as he saw Jaccim. What was going on? Why were they shouting at each other? Where was Cat Eyes? 

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That must be her, he thought, but even as he thought it, he realized, no, she could have changed that much. Now, he began to fear something horrible had happened. He drew even closer. There were guards shouting at Trunk of Tree and he was shouting back. 

Tu-Swift stopped and got no closer. Even at his age, he recognized that when there is a shouting match, adding more people, generally doesn’t improve the situation. At last, he began to “get” what was happening. This was indeed the party returning from the attempt to visit the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks, but the Veritas guards here had been told to keep the party away from the central village. Tu-Swift wondered whether his sister, Many Paths had given that order or if it had been She Who Saves Many Lives. Many Paths was fairly well recovered but not quite. Just then, he notice She Who Saves Many Lives stride past him and walk toward the shouting match. 

Tu-Swift wondered how such an ancient lady had caught up with him so quickly. He smiled as he recalled his sister remarking on several occasions that it seemed as though She Who Sees Many Lives had an almost magical intuition to know where she was most needed and appear there. So, thought Tu-Swift, this is what she was talking about. He smiled. 

As She Who Saves Many Lives approached she shot her right hand out holding her staff and said, “SILENCE!” 

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And silence ensued. And then, her voice rang out loud and true.

“Now, listen to me. It is I who ordered the guards to stop you here. We welcome you back and we are all eager to learn of your travels. But you must listen! We have a plague here. Many of us are sick! Some have died. Many Paths herself is just now recovering. This sickness covers you with ugly red dots and gives you a high fever. It is just like mold on fruit or the white powder flies on leaves. It goes from one person to another. We don’t know yet whether all of us will get sick or just some of us. It’s possible — not likely but possible — that everyone here will die. In that case, for the people not to die, you must stay away from us for a time. I know you are all eager to see us and as I said, we are just as eager to see you! But you cannot come any closer right now.” 

The returning Veritas murmured but they all nodded their heads to signal their understanding — all save Trunk of Tree who bellowed, “I live here! This is my village. It is not up to you, I say with great respect — it is not up to you.” 

The strong voice of She Who Saves Many Lives sung out, “You may well wonder where and how this plague came upon us. I will tell you. We had visitors from the Z-Lotz and we believe we got it from them. In fact, we think they did it on purpose. They also gave us a gift of something they call “glass” which has caused grievous wounds and sickness in Stone Chipper and his son, Sees Horses. Now, for the sake of the Great Bear in the Sky, tell us whether there really are Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks. And, now, I see that you have brought the answer with you, if I am not mistaken.”

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She Who Saves Many Lives nodded and put her hand out toward Flowing Waters and said in a softer, but still carrying tone, “Welcome sister. I am called She Who Saves Many Lives though I am afraid it is a bit of a misnomer. It is the people themselves who save lives because they learn much, and they help each other out, and when they disagree they talk things out until they agree or make arrangements not to interfere with each other. I can see by your face that you understand me, so you must be from our cousins over the Twin Peaks. I’m sorry we have to keep you away until we stop getting sick over here. Are you kin to Cat Eyes?”

“I understand, She Who Saves Many Lives. I am called by the name “Flowing Waters” because somehow, what I see flows like water out of my fingers and into paintings. I am indeed from the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks as you say. Though we had a legend that you were the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks.” She smiled and paused. 

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She Who Saves Many Lives laughed aloud and most of the Veritas joined in. Lion Slayer and Hudah Salah joined in. Jaccim looked from one face to another and clearly could not understand why everyone else was laughing.

She Who Saves Many Lives continued, “Trunk of Tree. You were in charge of this expedition and I see that you were successful! Congratulations! Believe me, we want you to come and celebrate as is our way as soon as we possibly can. It would be a fine way to repay your wisdom and courage to give you some dread disease that might kill you, right? What would Eagle Eyes think of us all when she returns here. Can you imagine that conversation? She would say, ‘Look, we brought back a killing stick. What of Trunk of Tree? Was he also successful? I want to see him!’ And, then I would say, ‘Oh, yes he was successful. I can show you where his body is buried.’ And then she would say, ‘How did he die?’ And, then, I would say, ‘Oh, yes, well, everyone in the village was deathly ill so we had him come in and catch the disease and die rather than having him keep a safe distance for a time. I hope we did the right thing. He very much wanted to get in the village.’

“And, though no-one can predict the future with certainty, I imagine that she would say something like, ‘How stupid!’ and I think she would be correct. And she would be very sad to know you were dead and that rather than dying as a hero in battle fighting to protect your village, instead you died of red pimple disease because you couldn’t be bothered camping at a safe distance. I cannot have that on my head. And, by he way, she wouldn’t just blame me; she would blame the whole of the Veritas. How could a village be so stupid as to let one of her mightiest and bravest warriors needlessly die? And she would be right to blame the whole village. Including you.

“Enough of this though, tell us your exciting news. Are all the Veritas on the other side of the Twin Mountains as charming and comely as Flowing Waters and Cat Eyes? And where is Cat Eyes, though I suspect I know. And, how did you get there? We want to hear the whole story, but for now, the essence will do.” 

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Trunk of Tree tried to organize things in his head. What to say first? Most important, the Veritas. “Yes, there are Veritas — many of them — on the other side of the Twin Peaks. They have no interaction with other tribes except for the predations of the ROI and the Z-Lotz. Cat Eyes — she had hoped to see her parents, but they had left to try to find her and were never heard from again. And… and … oh, yes so she is staying there with her people. I think she really likes the mint tea they serve there. And, we went through a tunnel but not a dirt tunnel. It was more like a … well, I guess what Cat Eyes called a ‘City.’ Smooth. Dark. But lights. Then, we came back.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives blinked a few times. “Thank you, Trunk of Tree. This is exciting news you bring, indeed. Again, Congratulations. Anyone else have any observations?” 

Fleet of Foot glanced at Trunk of Tree, then added, “The Veritas have a leader named ‘Gentle Talons.’ They had a prophesy for someone such as Cat Eyes to return and bring a great truth. And, as it turns out, she did — exactly that! You see, our cousins over the Mountains had excavated a huge underground pantry. But instead of food for the body in the pantry, this giant pantry — which, it turns out, is called a ‘library’, contains thousands of what they call ‘books.’ They had no idea what those things were! They knew they were filled with marks. But no-one knew what those marks meant. Then, Cat Eyes appeared, and — because of what she and Tu-Swift had discovered, they could begin to decode every one of these books! The books are filled with important knowledge! It was so lucky that Cat Eyes came here — and that she and Tu-Swift were friends! Now, we can all find out so much more about the world. She needs to stay there for now because she is by far the fastest and best decoder they have. And, oh, by the way, Tu-Swift, I have two books for you on training birds. She also wrote a small book just for you personally, but — but — well, I eventually need to see you about it in person.”

Tu-Swift brightened at that. He was glad that Sooz was back in the cabin. Then, he realized he would have turned even brighter still and she would have seen it. I need to see her! he thought.  I miss Cat Eyes! I could take Sooz. I have to wait though till no-one is sick. We don’t want to take our disease to the Veritas on the other side of the Twin Peaks. Imagine! I go see Cat Eyes and get her entire tribe of cousins sick. What a great friend I would be! 

It proved frustrating, not only for Trunk of Tree, but for everyone not to be able to clasp hands, hug, and have these information exchanges and congratulations be much more intimate and extended. Yet, it is the sweetest nuts that have the hardest shells. All of the Veritas knew that. It there were not a hard shell, that might seem more convenient for the moment you are trying to open it. But, of course, a moment more of thought would reveal that the nuts would likely never survive to reach a human hand or a human mouth. Nuts without any such shell would be eaten by the small beasts that were out all the time looking for food. In fact, all knew that being able to put off pleasure for future gain was what enabled humans to survive as humans. For this reason, Veritas children, including Trunk of Tree had been trained from an early age to wait. For now, they would settle for telling tales at a distance.

The exchanges lasted until sundown whereupon the returning exploration party made camp on the outskirts. After much dialogue, they decided that the “gift books” would be put some ways from their campsite and left there overnight. Tu-Swift and others would only collect their books tomorrow evening.

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Tu-Swift, despite having talked himself hoarse, found his head still swirling with so many additional questions. He went in to check on Sooz. He had already decided that he would wait until she was fully recovered before broaching the subject of visiting the … visiting the library. That was the way to put it so that she would want to go. Sooz was as exciting as anyone about this writing and reading. Although she needed her rest, he could not keep from her the news about the library! “Sooz! Sooz! Wake up! I’ve got something amazing to tell you. Sooz!” 

His voice dropped to a plea. “Sooz?”

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——————————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Myth of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/truthtable

Essays on America: Unmasked

Essays on America: Happy Talk Lies

The Watershed Virus

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Truth Train 

Poker Chips

All We Stand to Lose

After All

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

Somewhere a Bird Cries

The Crows and Me

Listen to my Siren Song

At Least he’s our Monster

Wake Up!

03 Wednesday Jun 2026

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

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books, fantasy, fiction, hope, innovation, leadership, legend, life, memory, myth, prison, problem_solving, sense_making, short story, story, truth, Veritas, writing

289A4672-47BB-46AA-8688-0DFE99F0A436

Shadow Walker couldn’t understand where the bright light was. It seemed to be everywhere and nowhere. The noise overwhelmed him, seemed to jar his bones and make his teeth chatter.  Breathe, he told himself. Breathe. Disgusting. Sour. Rotten. He was spinning. The bright lights changed to blue and then red and back to blue. “I can’t think straight,” he mumbled aloud. Shadow Walker slowed his breathing. The word “inventory” came to mind. He slowly and carefully took stock of his body, part by part. It was all there; sore, but no broken bones. He moved his hand to his head. Apparently, a tree burl had grown on his head. But that cannot be, he thought. I must have fallen. I’m in a hole. He blinked and listened to the roar. 

Not a roar. Those are voices. Whose voices? Many voices. They were speaking gibberish. Gibberish he had heard before. ROI and Z-Lotz. Why were people speaking those languages? A picture came to mind — a beautiful young woman bathing. Then, she was speaking. They were pointing to some vines high up in a tree. Another image: crawling through the grass. He drew close to the beautiful woman. Her scent was nice. Not like now. Who was she? She was not the only woman though. There was another. If only the pain were less, I could think better. 

The light at least had grown dimmer. He could now make out mountains and in this vast landscape, no plants grew. He closed his eyes and saw the image of another beautiful woman with eyes like those of a cougar. He mumbled aloud, “I wish Cougar Eyes were here. She could translate this sea of words into something I could understand. Where the hell am I?”

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He stared back onto the giant landscape. Something was very wrong with it. He blinked a few times and suddenly realized that he was not staring at a giant landscape at all. He stared at a dirt floor a few inches in front of his face. He was lying on his side. He tilted his head to take in the room. 

I am in a prison, he thought. But why? He pushed himself up to a sitting position. A single shaft of sunlight struck the floor near where he had just been lying. He closed his eyes and nearly fainted. He sat alone on one side of this prison room, he realized. The other three sides showed a few dozen others hunched against the other three sides. They reacted to him — his sitting up — by pointing and jabbering — but he only caught an occasional word that made any sense: “death” “NUT-PI” “ceremony” “yesterday” or “tomorrow” — he couldn’t be sure which. Again he said and said aloud, “If only Cougar Eyes were here.” Across the room, a thin, frail, long-bearded man arose and hobbled toward him slowly. He stood directly in front of Shadow Walker and then awkwardly sat down in front of him and began speaking — in Veritas!

“Excuse me, Sir. My name is Tree Vines. Did you say ‘Cougar Eyes’ just now?” 

“Tree Vines! You speak Veritas!” 

“I do. Yes. I am Veritas. But I don’t recognize you. I suppose you have grown quite a bit since I last saw you. But did you say ‘Cougar Eyes.’?” 

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“Yes. I don’t recognize you either. I am Shadow Walker. Cougar… that’s not right. Tiger Eyes. No. Something. Her name escapes me. I have been struck hard on the head. I don’t know how I got here. Where are we?” 

“You are in a place called Hopeless because all who come here, die here, or — or out in the public square. NUT-PI mostly lets us die of slow starvation, but sometimes, he likes to put on a show. I am afraid that is likely your fate. According to what I overheard from the guards, you came here two days ago with a woman. Was this woman by any chance called ‘Cat Eyes’?”

“Cat Eyes! Yes. No. I mean, I do know a woman named Cat Eyes. But that is not the woman I came here with. She’s — her name is — also something to do with cats or eyes or fish. But no. Cat Eyes — not Cougar Eyes — she — I found her in the village of the ROI. Like you, she speaks Veritas, but she also — but I cannot recall how I came to be here. I cannot…my mind is not working properly. I’m sorry. But you speak Veritas. Yet, I don’t recognize you.”

“Nor do I recognize you. Though I have been among the Z-Lotz for a long time now. I set out long ago on a journey to find my daughter, Cat Eyes, and was captured and used as a slave here in their city. My master became deathly ill ….”

Shadow Walker interrupted, “What? Wait. Cat Eyes is your daughter?” 

“Yes. Yes. Her irises are shaped like those of a cat. And you know her? Is she well?” 

“Tree Vines, the last time I saw her, she was well. She led … several of my tribe went to try to reach the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks. She went with them. She said that’s where she was from.” 

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“That’s right! But how — I don’t think they could get there. She was stolen from us when she was young. She was taken by these people who rob parents. My wife and I set out to follow the trail and try to find her. Several of our tribe accompanied us. But we came to a sheer cliff. No-one could find a way in or around. The others turned back, convinced there was no way over the mountain. My wife and I stayed and at last, a huge hole appeared in the side of the mountain itself…a kind of giant door. We could see nothing but we were desperate and slowly approached this hole hoping it might lead to her. Before our eyes had adjusted to the strange dim light inside, a troop of horsemen came riding out. They struck us with clubs and I woke up in the City of the Z-Lotz. I was chained and beaten and made to understand that I was their slave. They made me change my name to Tree Vines to make fun of my thin muscular limbs. I used to called “Of The Night” but I seldom think of that now. I was never allowed outside my master’s house. I am not sure whether my wife…sometimes other slaves came and I tried to ask about my wife, but we could never talk long. I gave up on life. I poisoned my master, not to kill, but to make him ill, and they found out or rather guessed — and put me in here. But only the ROI and the Z-Lotz know the secret of the giant hole in the mountain. I don’t think she could get through. But why are you here?” 

“Tree Vines, it is good to hear someone speak Veritas again. And, hearing your words has helped me recall some things, but I am still not — I don’t know why I am here or — we came — there is something here that we need. I came with — a different woman because she was here before and she sees — yes! She is called ‘Eagle Eyes.’ She can see really well. But not well enough to keep us from being captured — or killed.”

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“I’m sorry to say so, Shadow Walker, but they are going to kill you. By the light on the floor, I see it is nigh on to the Summer Solstice and they have … festivities planned … in fact, I would do the mercy of killing you, but we must find a way to kill each other or they will have me take your place. They make everyone — even the slaves and prisoners — go and watch the torture death. It would be better to die here.” Tree Vines, shook his head slowly from side to side. “It’s very bad. I’m sorry.” 

“Everyone dies eventually. But I am going to kill as many as I can. Meanwhile, tell me as much as you can about this ceremonial death so I can find my best chance of escape, Tree Vines. Or, would you rather I call you Of The Night?” 

Tree Vines sighed. “No, that name will just confuse me. Call me Tree Vines. I will tell you of the killing rituals, but what else can you say about my daughter? Please. Tell me. What sort of person is she?” 

“Your daughter is strong, beautiful, and very smart. I will give you the short version and if fortune looks favorably on us, I will tell you all you want to know later.” 

“Fair enough, Shadow Walker, but — this prison is called ‘Hopeless’ for a reason. NUT-PI uses a special rod to wound people and torture them. No-one has ever come close to escaping.” 

“Killing sticks! Yes! That is why we came here. To find out more about them and possibly steal one. My young brother in law, Tu-Swift, was also taken by the People Who Steal Children. We followed the trail and eventually I found him. He was living as a slave among the ROI and they were using him to train horses. We escaped with Tu-Swift, but the ROI followed us and used fire arrows to attack us, but the fire spread by the wind back to their own village and burned it to the ground. Most of them abandoned the wreckage of that village. But beneath the burned armory, we found a wounded ROI man named Jaccim. Your daughter was tending to him. She is a very good and kind person. And, as I said, very smart. She helped Tu-Swift learn to decode markings so that messages may be sent without the sender of the message being present.” 

“So, Cat Eyes was not hurt or injured or tortured?” 

Shadow Walker sighed. “The ROI…the Z-Lotz…I don’t know for certain. She looks to be unhurt on the outside. But her heart — that I cannot say. She avoids talking much about her time in captivity. But she was very excited to learn that Jaccim knew a way through the mountains. And, we sent a small party to try to connect with the Veritas who live beyond the Twin Peaks.” 

Tree Vines chewed nervously on his lips. “You let her go with one of the people who robs parents–who steals childen?” 

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“Jaccim actually seems like a decent person. Your daughter cared for him and I brought him medicine. And, he spent a fair amount of time with us. Tu-Swift vouches for him. What we discovered — actually mostly Cat Eyes — is that the ROI do not seem to even question what they are asked to do. If it’s effective and efficient, they are happy even if it something like stealing children. I don’t think on his own, he is likely to do bad things. Anyway, it wasn’t just the two of them. One of our strongest warriors, Trunk of Tree went as well as Fleet of Foot and two of our friends from the Nomads of the South. Your daughter is very resourceful. She spoke once of poisoning her captors as well. But she didn’t get caught.” 

Here, Shadow Walker tried carefully to study the face of Tree Vines to see whether he regarded this as a reproach since he had been caught. There was a frown, but Shadow Walker didn’t think it was from reproach. 

“I am — I am glad to know she is alive. But now, I am worried all over again. You let her go with one from among The People Who Steal Children, as you call them. She is still a child herself. She — you have no idea how she is. And, now, it seems unlikely either of us will ever find out.” 

Now, Shadow Walker frowned. “Your daughter is very much a young woman now. She definitely has a mind of her own. She insisted that she wanted to go. We dialogued about the pros and cons, but all of us, most especially your daughter insisted on going — she mainly wanted to see you — and her mother. But what do you mean, none of us will ever know?” 

“Shadow Walker of the Veritas Center Place, there is a reason that this prison is called Hopeless. No-one can escape.” 

“Tree Vines of the Veritas Beyond the Twin Peaks, I know well why they call the prison Hopeless. It is precisely so no-one will even try to escape. It is a label they chose. They mean to demoralize us. We will find a way out and you, I believe, will yet be reunited with your daughter. She is very resourceful. I told you she helped Tu-Swift decode the marks of the Z-Lotz.” 

Tree Vines tilted his head and tightened his lips. “You mentioned these marks before. Do you remember what any of them look like? I wonder…. No, it couldn’t be.” 

“Oh, I remember them all! Once Tu-Swift realized that each mark is like a stick figure drawing of someone making a sign, you see, and then your daughter and Tu-Swift together realized that each mark was only the initial sound of the word that the hand signs signify, we were able to decode the entire birchbark collection that Eagle Eyes … managed to take from here.” 

birch tree photography
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“Did my daughter, Cat Eyes, ever mention the work of the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks to understand the ancient artifacts we discovered?” 

“No. No. Not that I recall.” 

Shadow Walker glanced around the prison. He noted that none of the others were talking. Each seemed to be cocooned in their own private prison of hopelessness, they all sat, backs to the wall, arms wrapped around their knees, heads down. Perhaps they had sent their souls into another place since this one was so … filled with death. Each of them sees the others act hopeless so they do too. It’s perpetuated from one prisoner to the next. The name — hopelessness — and the expectation — those are better guards, I think, than any of the human ones out there. 

“Listen.” Shadow Walker drew closer and began whispering. “I intend to break out of this prison. But I may need the help of others. Do you know which of these men is to be trusted? Is it possible there is a spy?” 

Tree Vines inhaled deeply. He had become inured to the stench. “People in here don’t talk much. I’m not sure I’d really trust any of them. On the one hand, they are probably not great fans of NUT-PI. After all, they’re in prison. On the other hand, if they heard of your plans they might inform the guards in the hope of securing better treatment. That’s how NUT-PI operates. He betrays everyone but has everyone believing that they will he lucky exception. Anyway, plans are hopeless. You only have a day — perhaps two — before they will use you for entertainment.” 

“What sort of — entertainment?” 

Tree Vines drew still closer. “Are you sure you want to know?” 

Shadow Walker, despite his body still being wracked with pain, felt a small smile on the right side of his mouth. “Oh, yes. I definitely want to know.”

Tree Vines said, “If you want my advice, spend your last days thinking of something good, not dwelling on the horror that lies ahead.”

Shadow Walker’s smile spread. “I assure you that I will spend very little time dreading. I will spend my time planning, imagining, trying alternatives, imagining consequences, imagining alternative consequences, like a tree growing limbs from trunk, and twigs from limbs and leaves from twigs. I will find a way out as surely as I found a way in.” Shadow Walker paused for a moment and then looked into the eyes of the other man. “And you are coming with us.”

“You really think you can do it?”

“Either that or die trying. I’m not going to spend my days … underground. Now, tell me about how they imagine that they will use my death to provide entertainment?”

“All right. Well, the first thing is that it is always different. But variations on a theme. There will be some sort of sexual perversion involved. You can count on that. And there will be a lot of pain involved. And, the audience of — well, different people are in different positions but everyone is there — even the prisoners. It is our only entertainment — and — you will think me sick — a despicable man — but we all cheer, even though the person being tortured to death is one of us. Crazy when you think about it.”

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“Okay, thank you Tree Vines. But I need you to be much, much more specific. What weapons of torture? Where is the person relative to the audience. Where are the prisoners?  I realize it may all be different, but there will be patterns and if I can understand those patterns, I can see the weaknesses, the cracks in those patterns, that will always be there regardless of specifics. I already know what some of the cracks are because they are flaws of NUT-PI himself and will always limit his thinking. For instance, he is a colossal coward. And, he assumes (without knowing that he does so) that everyone else is the same. So that colors his predictions. He rules largely through other cowards because he can use fear to manipulate them. But it also means that very few, if any, are truly loyal to him. Even if there are such people, he will never be able to trust anyone. He will not be able to tell who are the few who truly want what he wants or think he is a god from those who will simply act that way to curry temporary favor or avoid punishment. These are general patterns of weakness, but there are many more for a system such as NUT-PI and the Z-Lotz have set up. But I also need to understand their cruelty in great detail so I can see the weakness patterns there as well.”

Tree Vines had a grim look on his face. It was painful to reveal some of the many possible tortures, but guilt tripled his pain. He along with all his fellow prisoners had cheered and he kept asking himself why. “All right, Shadow Walker. First of all, they always have the person restrained in some way. Perhaps his hands will be tied behind his back. Perhaps he’ll be suspended from a pole. Perhaps he’ll have one leg in a chain with a heavy ball attached.”

Tree Vines paused. “Do you want me to go on?”

“Yes. But take yourself back. Instead of saying, ‘sometimes this, sometimes that’ tell me of one particular torture from beginning to end; everything you saw, you heard, you smelled, you felt. Everything. Just like I was watching right beside you.” 

Tree Vines paused. He actually found himself smiling. He had been taught this skill at a young age, but he hadn’t used it in years. For the first time in an endless string of gray days in Hopeless Prison, Tree Vines felt hope. Perhaps, he thought, I should return to calling myself “Of the Night.”

——————————————————————

Author Page on Amazon

The Myth of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

Life Will Find a Way

The Walkabout Diaries: Life Will Find a Way

Math Class: Who Are You?

Roar, Ocean, Roar

 

 

Ah Wilderness!

03 Wednesday Jun 2026

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

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(I first published an earlier draft of Ah Wilderness in Peng Poets e-zine, summer 1997. I’m nearly finished with the highly recommended book, The Overstory, and so I decided to take another look at the poem and then extended it with the dissolution of form of the poem meant to mirror the dissolution of our society moving at last into prose but then, hopeful with the seed of form returning. I realize poetry is not everyone’s cup of tea. One reason I like it is that its dancing always on that same razor edge where life itself does its dance: chaos and regularity; change and stability).

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Ah, Wilderness!

The words may well connote a false un-blurring
A fear, a chill — not from frozen stone alone
Or lake wind’s sweep; but from the urgent stirring
Of some soul still hiding restless in our bone.

Curse not the thorns of tasty blackish berry;
They keep fruit safe from claws less clever.
Curse not how swift the prey, how very wary;
They shaped our brain; & helped us know forever.

Curse not the winter’s churlish wind unkind
Or burning hot dry summer’s cinnamon sun.
They invented beautiful raiment through our mind
And taught us numbers soaring far beyond one.

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Curse not the change of season; or the suddenly sliding slope –
Unpredictable now and in the future as ever always
They make us search for patterns far beyond our scope of grope.
Ah Wilderness!

You are me as seen in Darwin’s mirror of minutes and hours,

And days of ways taken and untaken & lead us here at last.

We strive to take it all and make it all, all ours, all ours!

Churning every fragrant flower and pine to dust,

We must! We lust! We must! We lust!
We don’t have time for this and that.

We want everything now and that’s that!

air air pollution climate change dawn
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And if in time all wilderness is bleak and dead,

Our bodies too shall wither and die and by and by

Our souls shall be but number: grey, unloved, unfed.

Asphalt, plastic, concrete & glass. None will die

Because in our endless war on nature, we are all “Undead.”

The Zombieland: machines gone mad; machines gone bad.

Swaths of humanity wishing to meld to macabre, merciless machinery!

abstract barbed wire black white black and white
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Life is what works! Life is constant change and innovation. But it’s been working for over four billion years! Look around you! It not only works! It’s marvelous! Machines don’t smell like that. Machines don’t look so beautiful as that. Machines don’t sound as melodious. Machines may be used to magnify malicious malignities if we let them.

Life is cooperative and interconnected and everywhere at once dancing on a razor’s edge between chaos and regularity. Machines are built to be efficient and effective and just tolerably presentable enough to be purchased — purchased by people who typically do not have to deal with the machine day in and day out. What do they care whether the machine is loud or smells bad or ruins your hands or explodes every so often or pollutes whole towns or scares away all the birds or kills every fish in the stream and every frog and that more trees will have to be cut down to feed it and more land raped to oil it?

Life is the invention of Love yet Love requires Life. (Maybe that’s why Love created Life; so it would have a way to express itself). Machines can be built to help save lives. Other machines are designed to kill lives. A machine that’s designed to kill lives never decides, “You know what? I never signed up to shoot peaceful protestors. That sucks and it’s anti-American. I quit.” At best, machines are amoral.

What to think of people who want to destroy life and replace it with a strict unmoving hierarchy with a life-hating king at the top? Don’t they see that they would not truly be alive in such an arrangement? They would not “decide” or “dream” or “change” or “love” or anything else without the permission of someone or some rule who knows nothing about how they really feel. And doesn’t care. Do you?

woman raising her hands
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To destroy all wilderness means humanity would be signing its own death warrant.

The attempt to replace life, which we know works, with machine will eventually fail and fall and take damn near all of humanity with it over that cliff of ever-lasting greed.

Ah, Wilderness.

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Wilderness is wildness indeed.

A single seed may green our land again

Laying waste to the wasteland that is the gray machine

It will take time,

But life is patient like a theme, a meme

Life is sly and by and by

Like a long awaited rhyme

Will catch the drift

Heal the rift

And someday not soon

A wolfish thing again will howl the moon

A treelike thing again will drink monsoon

Some bee-ish beings will buzz and sting

But here’s the thing:

Why wait for all those rusting, crusting thrusts of greed?

Instead, go now, take heed

And plant the first seed.

Help love reclaim the land and sea

For now and all eternity.

Ah, Wilderness.

A6253369-6ABE-4B57-884E-BEFF53F7F505

Author Page on Amazon

Introduction to a Pattern Language of best practices in Teamwork & Collaboration

Index to Pattern Language for Teamwork & Collaboration.

The Myths of the Veritas: The Forgotten Field

The Impossible

 

Such Sweet Sorrow

02 Tuesday Jun 2026

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

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books, civilization, ethics, fantasy, fiction, greed, innovation, leadership, legend, life, myth, politics, short story, stories, story, tales, truth, Veritas, writing

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“Let’s go! It’s time to go!” The impatient voice of Trunk of Tree rung out too harshly in the soft glow of sunrise which reflected off the glaciers atop the Twin Peaks and suffused the village in a soft pink glow. 

“Patience, friend,” said Fleet of Foot. “I want to try one more time to convince Cat Eyes to come with us. And, since you’re in a hurry, have you chosen a book yet?” 

“I don’t want one. Just extra weight. They are mostly nonsense and lies anyway. Huh! Animals with necks as long as their bodies? Go have your conversation and then let’s go!” 

Fleet of Foot shook his head and stared at Trunk of Tree. He sighed. “How can you … can’t you see how important these books are? You can at least see that they are important to this entire tribe. You know that many of the Veritas of the Center Place…” Fleet of Foot shook his head and broke off. He could see by the look on the face of his friend that he would not be convinced. At least not this way, he thought to himself. “Never mind. I’ll go talk with Cat Eyes one last time. I won’t be long.” 

Cat Eyes was not difficult to find. Ever since they had arrived she had been an object of attention and now, all of these Veritas of the Twin Peaks treated her with a reverence beyond her years. Fleet of Foot stood quietly amid a small circle of people of all ages. Now, this particular group was dialoging about something called “logic.” When a decent cesura in the flow of conversation appeared, Fleet of Foot stepped forward and said, “Cat Eyes, I am sorry to interrupt you but may I please have a word with you in private?” 

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Several of the Twin Peaks Veritas glanced at Fleet of Foot. The group walked a few yards away and continued their dialogue. It seemed that the treasure that they had uncovered included books on almost every topic imaginable. Once Cat Eyes had brought the secret of decoding to her tribe, they had spent much time on these artifacts. The knowledge of how to decode them had spread quickly through the entire tribe, though decoding was still a slow process. Gentle Talons, the leader of the Twin Peaks Veritas, had gifted each of the Veritas one book of their choice to take back with them to the Center Place. All had eagerly and thankfully accepted.

Jaccim had chosen a book about training horses. Hudah Salah picked a book that promised to show how to use water on a desert to make it a field. She remained skeptical that such a thing could be done, but if it were possible, it would mean something wonderful for her tribe. Lion Slayer had opted for a book about lions and their close kin. Fleet of Foot had found a book with many pictures that claimed it showed how to run faster. Only Trunk of Tree had eschewed choosing any book at all. 

“Cat Eyes, I think you know what I wish to speak about.” 

“Indeed, Fleet of Foot. You want to persuade me to come with you. I suspect you do this mainly on behalf of Tu-Swift.” 

Fleet of Foot blushed. “He does … he does hold you in high regard.” 

Cat Eyes reached into her shoulder pack and brought out two books and a small piece of bark. “I wish you to give him these.” She handed him books as she said, “These are two books about training birds. I hope he will find these useful. One is my choice and one is Trunk of Tree’s though he doesn’t know that.” She smiled, “I know Tu-Swift is working with Suze to train Eagles to attack NUT-PI. Maybe these will help. I think they will. And…” Cat Eyes, who had always seemed confident, but even more so since returning to her home, especially so. Now, however, she hesitated, unsure whether to go on.

Fleet of Foot looked at her. “And…?” he prompted.

“And, although I tried to express how I feel in what I wrote for Tu-Swift, please convey to him my feeling which is hard to put into marks on paper birch. I feel split in two. I really loved my time with the Center Place Veritas, and I especially loved Tu-Swift. He will always have a special place in my heart of hearts. Look at my eyes. You must tell him this so that he believes it. I know that in some way he fancies me as well. But he and Suze have something special as well. To me, the two of them seem better matched to each other. I am an oddball. I was a child here. Then, I was a slave. Then, I was a stranger in your Center Place. But now — now, I am home. I not only belong here. I can do something important for my people. I am teaching all of them about the wisdom of these books and — I think Tu-Swift will understand how important that is. But you must make him also understand how I love him.”

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“I will do that.” Fleet of Foot again reddened as he said it. “Why not come back though and tell him yourself. We have the tunnel. It is only a few days journey. You can come back and describe what is here and then when you feel like it, you can come back again.” 

“Perhaps I will one day visit. I have no faith right now that the tunnel will keep working. Based on what I have read so far, no-one alive really understand how those tunnels — and especially the doors — really work. Jaccim certainly doesn’t — and what disturbs me even more is that he doesn’t care that he doesn’t know. He doesn’t seem to care that he has always just done what he has been told to do — what he was expected to do — even if it was to steal children. He isn’t even cruel. He seems like a nice man; fundamentally kind. Yet — he stole children. And he uses things with no idea how they work and he’s never made any attempt to learn. The people who made the tunnel, and I now think also made the city which the Z-Lotz live in, are long dead. They were killed in some horrendous wars. If you get back to the Center Place and many people explore the tunnels and we read more in the books about how they work, maybe I will some day visit — visit — the Center Place Veritas and Tu-Swift. And perhaps I will hold the children of Tu-Swift and Suze and tell the stories about my birthplace. But for now, this is my place. You see that yourself. I know you do.” 

Cat Eyes sighed and continued. “Tell Tu-Swift that someday I hope we shall meet again. Meanwhile, I wish him well in his endeavor to teach the eagles to hunt for NUT-PI. And, when we hopefully are done with that monster, I have another request. I am hoping he can train the eagles as well to hunt for, but not attack, my parents. No, don’t make that face. I realize that they are probably dead. But one never knows. They may have journeyed out to find me and ended up in a place by themselves. I know. I know. You need not put such a look upon your face. It’s been many years. I realize that. But I myself was lost from here for many years. Yet I am alive. And here. These are some likenesses of my parents from my memory and from the memories of two others who can make good likenesses and knew my parents well. It’s hope, Fleet of Foot. It’s hope. You must understand. I was hoping that they would be here. I need the hope. Even if they are never found or never return, I can still hope. It is a way to keep them alive in some small way.”

Fleet of Foot nodded. “I do understand. I will give Tu-Swift your messages — and your feelings.” 

“There is something else. I feel … the Eagles have their own life. To use them as a weapon… I would be glad if something came of training them besides murder. Tu-Swift wondered about turning the Eagles into weapons as well. Is that any better than Killing Sticks? It bothered him but he resolved it. He overcame it. But I wonder how different that is from whatever went on in Jaccim’s mind to allow him to steal children from their parents.”

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Fleet of Foot nodded. “Yes. As you say, Eagles do have their own lives. Many in the great web of life use others in the web. But the Eagles are free to attack or not attack, however you trained them. A Killing Stick however is not alive. It has no use I can see except to kill. It is not part of the web of life. It is not like the Eagles. At least I don’t think so. Tu-Swift, and Eagle Eyes before him, love the Eagles. If the Eagles choose to kill, it is partly due to that love returned. I don’t think of it as I do the Killing Sticks.” 

“Nor I. But I think all of us would feel better if the Eagles were also trained to find people and lead us to them. Imagine. Wolves can also be trained for such a purpose. But for that…wolves do not see well like Eagles. They can smell the scent of animals though. I don’t have any artifacts from my parents left. After they had been gone for years, people began to use the things they left behind. But I suspect that my scent must be like their combined scents. So, perhaps you can use this scrap of my tunic to have wolves find them too. It’s not likely. But it’s possible.”

Fleet of Foot blinked. “That is an amazing idea! To use the wolves to find people by scent!” 

The cat eyes of Cat Eyes twinkled. “Yes,” she chuckled, “though it isn’t mine. I read about it in a book. It can be done. Or, at least the book claims that it can be done.” Now Cat Eyes laughed aloud. “I can see your friend Trunk of Tree over there pacing and glowering, impatient as ever to get going. You had better begin your journey. I do wish you luck. I hope the tunnel still works and all of you return to the Veritas of the Center Place. And I hope… I wish Tu-Swift luck. That sounds cold. Just tell him I love him. But my life is here. And his life is with Suze. And with his sister. And you. And Shadow Walker.” 

“He’s … young,” said Fleet of Foot.

Cat Eyes laughed. “Yes, he is younger than I, but he has … you must understand … it is not just years. He and I, of all the Veritas I have met were the only ones who were stolen from their parents. We share that. And… if you can survive it, it ages you. He is older than he seems. Or, let me say instead that he seems older than he is. Of course, you’re right. He should be with someone of his own age, like Suze. Farewell. Leave now or Trunk of Tree will shed all his bark!” 

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Fleet of Foot glanced at his friend and could see that Cat Eyes was right. He laughed and Cat Eyes joined. Fleet of Foot took her hands gently in his. “You are a remarkable young woman Cat Eyes. I do believe we will meet again. I hope so. On behalf of Tu-Swift, I thank you for the gifts.” 

The small group of Center Place Veritas stood at the entrance to the path toward the tunnel and said goodbye one more time. Cat Eyes stood far off and waved to them. Even from a distance, Fleet of Foot could see the tears on her cheeks. Among the group returning through the tunnel was one from the Twin Peaks Veritas. Gentle Talons had chosen one from among his tribe to accompany them on their journey and to return in due course. This young woman’s name was “Flowing Waters.” She had artistic talent and, although quite bright and articulate, had been unable to master the decoding of books. Gentle Talons was hoping she could bring some drawings of the Center Place and its inhabitants back to Gentle Talons and his tribe some day.

A small number of Twin Peaks Veritas accompanied them on their journey back up to the door of the tunnel. Cat Eyes was not among them. She was already busy decoding more books and teaching others to do the same. Those who had come stood well back from the tunnel door acting for all the world as though some dark evil monster might emerge.

Hudah Salah noticed this wariness among the onlookers and considered. The only thing that had ever come out of that tunnel prior to the small Veritas delegation were child stealers. So! That really was a dark and evil monster. No wonder they looked nervously toward the entrance, ready to bolt at the slightest urging. 

Hudah turned and watched carefully as Jaccim opened the tunnel door. It opened and though no obvious monsters emerged, the Veritas from beyond the Twin Peaks drew no closer. They continued to stare as their visitors, now including one of their own — Flowing Waters —entered into the oddly lit corridor that stretched beyond sight. They continued to stare as the doors closed. The onlookers collectively sighed. It seemed as though the entire party had been swallowed by a gigantic monster of rock. They turned and walked back home, eager to learn more of this wonderful world through the magic that The Chosen One had revealed to them all. 

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Inside, the returning Veritas, along with their guest, again gaped at the odd lighting and high ceilings. They strode along the smooth path confidently. Only Fleet of Foot found himself wondering whether this tunnel might collapse. On the way in, though he had been awed, the didn’t imagine the tunnel would “stop working” any more than a tree would stop growing or a bee would stop buzzing. Now, thanks (or no thanks) to Cat Eyes, he realized that this tunnel was not something to be taken for granted. It did not just spring into being. It had been built. And the people who had known how to build such things were gone, if the books were correct. Fleet of Foot thought about some of the many gifts the Veritas had received from their ancestors. How to start a fire, bow and arrow, which plants could be used for which diseases. Why had he always accepted these as part of the world? They were part of his world, but each meant his ancestors for thousands of generations had worked to make these devices better. Everyone he had known his entire life had experimented to make things better, not only for themselves but for all the tribe. 

Almost everyone, he realized. He asked himself: What if the likes of ALT-R and POND MUD had made these tunnels? They might have constructed them to appear an easy path — and then, they could collapse thus trapping and crushing an entire party under a mountain of hard rock. Did the books lie? Could there really have been a people so blind that they knew the story of the Orange Man and yet made the same mistakes again destroying in the process not just a single tribe but an entire civilization? No point in dwelling on a danger I have no idea how to defend against. I may as well walk to the end with as much happiness and joy in my heart as I can muster. If these are to be my last few moments on earth, I may as well enjoy them. 

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He smiled and caught up with Flowing Waters. 

“Thanks for traveling with us, Flowing Waters. I saw some of your drawings. Excellent! I especially liked the sunset on the Twin Peaks.”

“Thank you, Fleet of Foot. I like to draw. Do you?”  

snow capped mountain
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—————————————

Author page on Amazon

The Creation Myth of the Veritas

The Forgotten Field — A Myth about the Importance of Finding Common Ground

The Orange Man — a Myth about the Importance of Truth

The First Ring of Empathy — The Beginning of Book One of the Myths of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Two of the Myths of the Veritas

The Beginning of Book Three of the Myths of the Veritas

Hauntings Across the Time Zones – A Poem

Camelot – A Poem

We Won the War! We Won the War!

Who Won the War?

Guernica

Peace

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

The Crows and Me

After All

All We Stand to Lose

Poker Chips

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

Corn on the Cob

The Dance of Billions

Myths of the Veritas: Many Paths Awakes

01 Monday Jun 2026

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

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books, Democracy, empathy, ethics, fantasy, fascism, fiction, leadership, legend, life, myth, politics, science, short story, story, truth, Veritas, writing

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For three days and three nights, Tu-Swift and She Who Saves Many Lives slept little and ate less. They worked hard to keep Many Paths cool in the hot summer days. That was far from their only labor however. Among the Veritas, a large number fell ill with the mysterious plague of red dots. Fever and delirium were common as well as almost constant sleep. One had died.

It fell upon the few who somehow stayed well, including Tu-Swift and the elder Shaman to prepare food as well as to care for the sick. No-one worked on decoding what the Z-Lotz had called “books.” No-one hunted or gathered food. Only the well were hungry. The sick had no appetite and little energy. It was difficult even to convince them to drink a little of the tea that the Elder Leader prepared with rose hips, honey, black elderberry and willow bark. Usually, after some coaxing, they could only manage a few sips and then, they fell back into a restless sleep. 

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On the third night, just as Tu-Swift began to nod off for a well-deserved nap, Many Paths sat bolt upright. She cried out, “Shadow Walker!! Shadow Walker!!” Tu-Swift and She Who Saves Many Lives both went to Many Paths to reassure her. 

Many Paths frowned in the dark room. “Old Mother? Honored Shaman? Why are you in my cabin? Where is Shadow Walker?”

She Who Saves Many Lives patted Many Paths on the shoulder and said, “You are in my cabin, not yours, Sweet Daughter. You came in her quite ill and somewhat delirious. Tu-Swift is here too. He was tending to you. Your fever has broken and perhaps you will now be on the mend. You should continue to rest though.” 

Many Paths persisted. “Where is Shadow Walker though? Is he well?” 

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Tu-Swift took his sister’s hand, “Many Paths, I am glad you are getting stronger. Shadow Walker and Eagle Eyes went to see what is happening with the Z-Lotz; perhaps steal some Killing Sticks so that we might better prepare to fight against such weapons. Do you remember?”

Many Paths looked around the room, lit only by a few moonbeams. Everything was out of place. Then, she remembered. She wasn’t in her cabin. But her mind, her memory, still seemed out of place. Shadow Walker had gone off with Eagle Eyes? Her friend? Why, she wondered, had Shadow Walker preferred Eagle Eyes? Hadn’t they…? Were not she and Shadow Walker connected forever by love? She said aloud, “Are we divorced?” 

Tu-Swift smiled. “No, sister. No, what do you mean? You and Shadow Walker are in love. Everyone knows that! It’s obvious.” 

“Then, where is Shadow Walker? Why did he go off with my friend Eagle Eyes? Where are the Rings of Empathy? Did Trunk of Tree take them? Where is he? Isn’t he supposed to be with Eagle Eyes? Did he go too?”

She Who Saves Many Lives sighed. She patted Many Paths. “All is well with you and Shadow Walker, my dear. We were visited by the Z-Lotz. A few days later, we discovered that one of their so-called gifts was a poison rock that they called glass. Stone Chipper and his son, Sees Horses, both have sick hands. We have kept everyone else far away from this glass. I am not sure, but it seems that these Z-Lotz …”

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Many Paths interrupted her in a panic (which was uncharacteristic of the Veritas in general and almost never happened when She Who Saves Many Lives spoke). “But where is Shadow Walker? Is he okay? Where are the rings?”

She Who Saves Many Lives put up her hand. “Many Paths. All will be well. Be patient. I will answer all your questions. There is much to tell. And all will be told to you. But you will learn more quickly if you do not ask so many questions.” 

Many Paths squeezed the hand of She Who Saves Many Lives. “I’m sorry. Please tell me in your own time.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives nodded her head and squeezed the hand of Many Paths. “Your well-earned Rings of Empathy are right with you in your pouch as always. Perhaps you should hold them and you might feel better.” 

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Many Paths reached for the soft leather pouch and took it into her hand. It did calm her. And, then, she remembered to breathe. And, to take inventory. She was alive. She could hear. She could feel. She could see. She could remember, but not very well, apparently.

She Who Saves Many Lives continued. “Many were involved in the tribe’s decision to send out two scouting parties. Shadow Walker, strong and smart, was chosen to visit the Z-Lotz. Eagle Eyes went with him because she has seen this great city before and knows a way in. Also, as you know, Eagle Eyes usually sees trouble before any trouble sees her. It is a dangerous mission. That, no one can doubt. But not finding out more about Killing Sticks is also dangerous. The Z-Lotz are not to be trusted. If you recall, Cat Eyes, who lived among the ROI and the Z-Lotz, claims that the wealthy among the Z-Lotz do not even believe in their rigid belief system. They only use it to fool everyone else. When they visited us, they insisted that you believe as they believe — even though they couldn’t even tell you what that was! They wanted you to go visit them — alone! I do not trust them at all. And, of course, they are now led by our old “friend” NUT-PI. He is a terrible leader and lost almost his entire tribe. It is astounding that the Z-Lotz, or anyone else, would chose such a man as a leader.” 

The Older Leader paused. “Does any of this sound familiar? There is no rushing danger, Many Paths. If you need to go back to sleep awhile, that’s fine. You are better but by no means well. The people need you as a healthy leader.” 

Many Paths nodded. “You are helping me put my memory rooms back in order. I remember everything clearly except — maybe a week or so seems less clear than everything else. Isn’t that odd? Anyway, please tell me the rest. I am tired. But I cannot sleep until I hear the rest. How are the people?” 

She Who Saves Many Lives continued, “There are many who are sick just as you were. Luckily, not all of us have gotten ill, but most have. It might be that the Z-Lotz intentionally brought this illness but … “

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“What!? No, surely, not even a people who steal children and make Killing Sticks would be so … low … so evil … so cowardly as to intentionally bring a plague to us! I’m sorry Revered One; I interrupted again. I’m not quite myself yet. Please continue.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives got up to open some slats so that more moonlight could illustrate the rest of her tale. Then, she returned to sit on the edge of the bed. “You may recall that Cat Eyes told us of Veritas brothers and sisters who live over the Twin Peaks. So Fleet of Foot, Cat Eyes, Trunk of Tree, and our friends from the Nomads of the South accompanied them. Jaccim said he knew a different way and so he led them. We know they got there safely. But they have not yet returned.”

Many Paths nodded and felt her eyelids begin to droop. “Perhaps I will rest now.” She closed her eyes and began to relax. Then, she sat bolt upright again. “Wait! What do you mean you know that they made it over the twin mountains when they haven’t returned? How?”

She Who Saves Many Lives smiled, “Ah, for that, Dear One, you must thank your brother Tu-Swift, Sooz, and your friend Eagle Eyes! They have been training the Eagles and Hawks to deliver messages. And, Cat Eyes sent such a message back here.”

Many Paths smiled at her brother. “That’s amazing!”

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Tu-Swift returned the smile and said, “Thanks! And, Cat Eyes didn’t just send a pre-arranged signal. She wrote to me! She wrote to me! She said: ‘All safe. Kin here. Much wisdom.’ She fit all that in small marks and attached it to Smart One.”

Many Paths tilted her head and said, “Smart One? Oh, that’s the name of the eagle?” 

Tu-Swift smiled. “Yes, and it seems your brain has emerged from the fog. Now, go back to sleep. All will be well.”

“Knowing I have such a clever brother,” said Many Paths. “That should help me sleep. More Veritas. It’s true. Hmm.” Many Paths, the Rings of Empathy still grasped in her hand, began to imagine the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks and how that first recent meeting must have gone. She wondered how joyous Cat Eyes had felt. Had she met her parents? What would that be like?

The musings of Many Paths soon became images and the images soon became dreams. 

Tu-Swift glanced at She Who Saves Many Lives and spoke. “She seems better at last! Sooz was supposed to come see me here at moonrise. And, the last time I saw her, she felt a little ill. I’m going to check on her.” Tu-Swift exited the cabin of She Who Saves Many Lives and she watched his silhouette in the moonlight. He still walked with a slight limp, but, thought the Elder, to my old eyes, it seems that his limp continues to lessen over time. Perhaps, she thought, we should try spicebush and witch hazel hot poultice on that knee.

The inner eye of She Who Saves Many Lives began to swirl like the darkest of storms. Killing Sticks. My dream of Killing Sticks even before we knew of them. People as evil as NUT-PI. The corruption of ALT-R and POND MUD. Of course, the world has always had death, she thought, but this is something different. Have none of these people heard “The Myth of the Orange Man”? How could they think the same horrible consequences would be avoided. If you subvert language in order to mislead people and steal from them, it destroys trust. It destroys real communication. It destroys pleasure and love. It destroys everything. We then are just single individuals mistrusting and fearful of everyone else and have no real way to survive as such. And, even if we did… what kind of life would that be?

And yet, thought the Tribe Elder, there are these amazing young people who will be here after me. Many Paths, Cat Eyes, Eagle Eyes, Tu-Swift and so many others. The heart of the Veritas still values love and truth and honor. Plague or no plague. Evil or no evil. We who are on the side of life will prevail. Anyone can die any time. Everyone will die eventually. But life? Life is safe. Life is huge. Life is diverse. Life is endlessly creative and inventive. Life listens to the sounds of the truth. Life looks at reality so that the truth is revealed. Life feels and learns and thinks and cooperates and loves. Of course, life will survive. 

And then, despite her dark prophetic dream; despite the threat of the Z-Lotz and the remnants of the ROI with their Killing Sticks; despite the disease that was spreading among the Z-Lotz, the elder leader smiled because she knew in her heart; she knew with absolute certainty of logic that Life itself was well beyond the clutches of one such as NUT-PI. And as she smiled, knowing the final outcome regardless of the inevitable pain along the way, She Who Saves Many Lives fell into one of the most restful and peaceful sleeps of her long and loving life.

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The beginning of the Myths of the Veritas: The First Ring of Empathy

Author Page on Amazon

The Myths of the Veritas The First Ring of Empathy

The Forgotten Field

The Orange Man

Pattern Language for Collaboration and Cooperation

How the Nightingale Learned to Sing

Who Won the War?

After All

The Silent Screams of Dead Men’s Dreams

Absolute is not Just a Vodka

Poker Chips

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Peace

All We Stand to Lose

The Crows and Me

Math Class: Who Are You?

Roar, Ocean, Roar!

The Dance of Billions

Travels with Sadie Teamwork

The Walkabout Diaries Sunsets

Myths of the Veritas: Books

30 Saturday May 2026

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

pile of stones
Photo by Mau00ebl BALLAND on Pexels.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

history ancient peru south america
Photo by Amanda Kerr on Pexels.com

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

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

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

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——————————————————-

The Myths of the Veritas: The Orange Man

Author Page on Amazon

Essays on America: Wednesday

Essays on America: Rejecting Adulthood

Essays on America: A Lot is not a Little.

The Anti-Academic Pandemic 

The Truth Train

Essays on America: You Bet Your Life

Come back to the Light Side

Life is a Dance

Take a Glance; Join the Dance

We Won the War! We Won the War!

All We Stand to Lose

The Crows and Me

After All

Somewhere a Bird Cries

Guernica

There Never Was a Civil War

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