• About PeterSIronwood

petersironwood

~ Finding, formulating and solving life's frustrations.

petersironwood

Tag Archives: war

Fish Have No Word for “Water”

11 Saturday Dec 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 33 Comments

Tags

pantoum, poem, poetry, war

Photo by Aneta Foubu00edkovu00e1 on Pexels.com

They had long lost the word for war.
Along with so much more.
The reptile brain (alive and well)
Transformed green Eden into orange hell.

Along with so much more:
Libraries, friends, gardens and such.
Green Eden charred to fiery hell.
It had seemed so easy once upon a time.



Survival. Now. Seeds they sow, row on row.
Along with so much more.
Bullets spent; home-made tent.
Green Eden charred to orange hell.

Photo by Tim Erben on Pexels.com



So much mud! A desperate thud.
Survival now: “Reality Show.”

They had long ago lost the word for war.
Bullets spent. A home of tent. 

Every day it seemed to rain.
So much mud! A desperate thug
Had reigned: ineptitude on full parade.
They had lost the word; they had lost the word for war. 


Absolute is not just a vodka

Trumpism is a new religion

Happy Talk Lies

Try the Truth

A lot is not a little

Author page on Amazon

Death-Cultery on Parade

18 Wednesday Aug 2021

Posted by petersironwood in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

America, coronavirus, COVID, essay, pandemic, peace, truth, USA, war

Should we really be all that surprised? 

One quarter of the country is prepared to die and have their loved ones die for the sake of what they know or should know to be lies. 

But what happens in war? 

At least one side, and more typically both sides are willing to die and put their families at risk for what they know or should know to be lies. They don’t typically go into combat for their own benefit! They do it for country. They do it for their religion. They do it to protect their families. They do it in reprisal for some real or imagined actions in the past. But very few would willingly walk into combat hoping to “get more out of it” than they put into it! That would be like running through a rich neighborhood during a heavy lightening storm. Sure, you might be struck by lightening or hit by a falling tree and die or be permanently injured. But — hey! — there’s also a chance you might be able to sue one of these rich suckers and make millions! Yeah. That could happen. But, as I say, that’s not why most people put themselves in harm’s way.

So, to recapitulate, war itself is based, at least partly, on lies. 

Are we doomed to keep repeating the same mistakes over and over and over and over again? 

IDK

But consider this: 

Suppose there are two teams Purple and Green. These two teams have a competition in something. It doesn’t much matter whether it’s soccer, baseball, debate, ice hockey, figure skating, cheerleading or anything else. What matters is that each side wants to “win.” But it also matters, and more than a little bit, that each side also wants to enjoy themselves. They value other things in addition to winning or losing. Some enjoy the companionship. Some enjoy the challenge. Some enjoy improving. Some enjoy the sunshine. It doesn’t have to be the same value for everyone. 

The point is that tennis is not a zero sum game. It’s true that a particular match has one and only one winning team. But there are other benefits. Everyone is a “winner” in the sense of the challenge or the emotional ups & downs or the sheer joy of movement. The score is only one part of the value of the game. The same is true for all sports and for almost all human endeavors in the real world. It is very seldom a zero sum game. We can almost always find some state of affairs as being bad (all out atomic war destroys the entire human species) 

Similarly, both the Purple and the Green team want to keep the game going. In most cases, they also want to have cordial social relations with all the other players. So, in the vast majority of cases, people “handle” disagreements about the score, the line calls, etc. within the bounds of civility. Let’s suppose that one person of the four is a narcissistic sociopath who thinks he’s always right and insists he’s always right no matter how egregious his line calls. Eventually, such a person would destroy the game. It wouldn’t take a majority. A single sociopathic teammate could spoil it for everyone. But only if everyone else lets them get away with it. 

Have you ever watched an all-out bench-clearing brawl between to baseball teams or two hockey teams? Every time I’ve seen it, it’s really only triggered by one person and accepted by one person. So, two, among those whole teams, are sometimes enough to ignite a kind of “war.” While a brawl isn’t the most pleasant experience I can imagine, it’s even worse among professional athletes. It’s potentially career-ending. For most, it’s a potential financial hit from the world of brand endorsements. There could be legal trouble. For a few, there might be regret. Similarly, guess what? Most people do not benefit from war! It’s so obvious that I hesitate to say it, but it seems as though people do not see it as obvious. A very few people get very very rich. Many people die; many are seriously and permanently injured; many people’s homes are destroyed; families are separated; possessions are destroyed; plans are accomplishments are destroyed; peace of mind is destroyed; forests and wild places are destroyed; innocent animals are destroyed; friendships are destroyed; trust is destroyed…I mean, are you starting to see a pattern here?

War is about destruction. War does not create beauty. War does not feed the hungry. War does not heal the sick. War does not comfort the soul. War benefits the few; never the many. 

At the extreme, there is dictatorship which will always be much more incentivized to war than will a democracy. The dictator will use the fact that there’s no free press to whip up hatred against an enemy. Then, he’ll attack (but pretend the other side started it), etc. Now, if attacked, the democracy has little choice but to respond. Encouraging a bully is a losing strategy. Going to war is also losing. War is never about winning. It’s about losing less. And going to war is better than giving in to a bully. If you succumb to the bully, you have no life any more. The bully is a parasite on you; one that you cannot get rid of while he sucks your blood and everyone else’s in the nation. Parasite is just another name for dictator.

In any case, a small number of people can start a war which, in turn, benefits only a small number of people, at most.

That doesn’t seem like a good system to me.

It sounds like “an accident waiting to happen.” And, it has. Over and over and over and over again. 

When will we ever learn?

And, while three fourths of America has battled their butts off for over a year and a half — socially distancing, wearing masks, making masks, getting vaccinated, staying healthy — in some cases working heroically — quite literally — heroically to fight the war against COVID. While that’s what’s been happening with about 3/4 of Americans….

One fourth of America has decided to join in the War on COVID — on the side of the virus! They refuse to get vaccinated; refuse to wear a mask; refuse to socially distance. Why? Because they’ve been ordered to by the leaders of a death cult. Make no mistake. This has nothing to do with personal freedom. If it were about personal freedom, there might be as many as seventeen people nationwide who would prefer to be intubated for weeks than to wear a mask for minutes. If it were really about personal freedom, the vast vast majority would choose a few moments of discomfort rather than dying or being permanently disabled. Ironically, most of  the cult leaders have been vaccinated, and when they’ve fallen ill, they’ve received expensive top notch care that you or I or the COVIDites will not be likely to receive.


Something there is that doesn’t love a war, not even a war on truth.

——————————-

The Truth Train

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Watershed Virus

Masklessness is not Manliness

Plans for us some gruesome 

Imagine all the people

Author page on Amazon 

Little Grandma

25 Monday May 2020

Posted by petersironwood in America, family, psychology, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

death, family, life, Memorial Day, relationships, truth, war


 

C4AE5680-36D4-44A1-84F8-5ACCDC6B3CEF

“Little Grandma” (as we all called her) was 86 when last I saw her alive on what was to be her deathbed. She smiled and asked about my broken arm. She was old, bent, wrinkled — and tired — so she said. I guess it was from her Native American bones that I inherited my love of nature, my peace with all of it; all that is natural and beautiful on this tiny jewel of a planet — the wild iris, the rose, the caterpillar, the crimson sunset and the rain.

The rain. But of course, there are a thousand kinds of rain. They come in so many colors, moods, and sounds. Tall sheets of rain seen from miles across the “Big Sky” country; cold, drizzly little fall rains; sudden laughing summer showers; lashing hurricanes that flood and kill and toss trees like broken toys.

When we buried you, “Little Grandma,” it was a gray day steel steady rain of tears from a sky that held unseen clouds. It was the rain, I guess, that drowned out the meaningless words of the poor man in the black robes babbling uselessly to comfort me. The grass was very green in your little spot beneath the black, dripping elm.

burial cemetery countryside cross

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

On the rain fell, on the ancient little church, on the little crowd of black umbrellas, on the stones of the graveyard, gradually, gradually, fading out even the words carved in stone — but not the words carved in my heart, “Little Grandma.”

We don’t think of “Little Grandma” as a fallen soldier. In her longish life, however, she saw her children and then her grandchildren go off to war. Seldom even a heavily redacted post card. Never a call on the satellite phone. And her grand-daughter’s husband was killed in a war. So, I thought of her on Memorial Day — and all the other millions of women who kept life going — and all the while never knowing whether their sons and husbands would ever return whole — or return at all. Now, of course, women are also war-fighters. But haven’t they always been?

flight sky sunset men

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


Author Page on Amazon

Citizen Soldiers: Part 1

 

Blood-Red Blood

24 Sunday May 2020

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

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

ecology, environment, green, life, love, peace, poem, poetry, war

IMG_2261

Those tortured in the name of Our Dear God,
Racked, burned or sawed, bleed blood-red blood.

Sailing to Freedom, they slaughter
Their trusting brothers with reddish skin
And all their blood is blood-red, blood-red.

The black skin of slaves under the lash
Bleeding the blood-red blood.
Soldiers North in marching blue,
Soldiers South in riding gray,
Bleed their blood-red blood.

person s hands covered with blood

Photo by NEOSiAM 2020 on Pexels.com

The white skin of soldiers entrenched
Breathing the deadly golden mustard gas,
Coughing their lungs, their blood-red blood,
Coughing on their uniforms of blue or gold.

The Cambodian Killing Fields flow bright
With blood-red blood spurting from under yellow skin.

Genocide in Tamil —
Drunken driving in Toledo —
Bombs in Northern Ireland —
Whether the children wear green
Or orange, blood-red is their blood.

woman in black tank top blindfolded

Photo by Thuanny Gantuss on Pexels.com

Only that is clear. Blood is blood.
That, and the tears.
The tears are clear.
But what of hearts and thoughts?

In Flanders Field, so they say,
The poppies grow, red-blood red.
We know where hatred grows —
The fields of greed and fear.
But where on this green earth
Is there a space for love to grow;
For that magic drop of clearly know
That can save so many seas of blood?

B852E891-61E2-4C98-B440-C9718033FE6A

Waterloo and Gettysburg
We can quickly find on a map.
Battlefields, Killing Fields,
Killing Camps, Hiroshima —
These we can pinpoint oh so easily.

Harder to see are the loving fields.
They lay only hidden deep within
That uncharted country of our own hearts.

E9221FE8-778C-469A-98F6-46CD644477BF_1_201_a

I have a question for you.
I have a question for me.
Haven’t we shed enough of each other’s blood?
Are we really still surprised to see
Our enemy bleeds blood-red blood
Just like you and me?
Can we find something else to do now?
Some new game to play?
Are you not bored, like me,
With shoot and burn and slay?
How about a game that does not end in bloody red?
How about a game that ends in green, say?
How about working together to re-make Eden?
Let us make the woods and fields green again
Like a sparkling miracle of loving creation.
I think that might be more fun.
I am getting sick and tired of blood and red and dead.
How about you?

cascade creek environment fern

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Want to play for green instead?

3FC757BE-A645-4C45-B75F-BD101D6225AC_1_105_c

 

America

Essays on America: Wednesday

The Pandemic Anti-Academic

The Impossible

The Truth Train

Sunless Sunday of Faith

Author Page on Amazon

Camelot is in your Heart

09 Monday Mar 2020

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

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

America, Camelot, Democracy, legends, myths, peace, poem, poetry, revolution, story, USA, war

 

70E5F8B3-018B-46C2-A765-B75FF60D41C5

The Knights are mostly scattered now;
And Arthur Pendragon long since dead;
A Kingdom ruled by shadows instead. 

The castle lies in broken rubble.
The fields, fallow, untended and bare.
Our Flag doesn’t ripple in cold blue air. 

The maimed, the stunned, stumble, grumble
Of what was once so full of grace,
And now is gone without a trace. 

A grain of wheat is blown by wind,
I seize and touch, and then I see,
Those fields and fields wave goldenly. 

Upon the ground, a hunk of brick —
Its one of hundreds, standing tall
And thickly building castle wall. 

Beside the fallen orchard trunks —
A rotten apple laced with bees;
Inside that core are apple trees! 

Not in warfare, not in plans,
Not in science, not in art,
Not in numbers, not in chart, 

Camelot, 

My friends, 

Is in your heart. 

IMG_9802
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Peace

07 Saturday Mar 2020

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

≈ 32 Comments

Tags

ecology, environment, green, life, love, peace, poem, poetry, truth, war

IMG_3071


All the guns are silent now;
Landmines, all defused, exhumed.
Warships, mothballed; warplanes, scuttled;
Missiles, bombs, and tanks, entombed. 

Across the world, hands are held
And faces face the clearing sky
In silent prayer, in wonderment.
No-one quite remembers why 

It once seemed great to shoot to kill.
No-one gets that deadly thrill.
No-one cares to take that hill.
No-one wishes others ill. 

7551D277-6606-4C1B-9E06-5E4E44C81A64
A13D392E-DFD8-47ED-9D4C-5C3F3E6318CF

Instead, the people turn their mind
Inside to see what they can find
Of ignorance within their skin
And mine their souls to conquer sin. 

No-one throws the stones at others;
Hands are used to help instead;
Someone speaks and someone listens;
Around the world, each kid is fed. 

6ED86DEA-F6EC-4482-827F-8275A931F7F0
IMG_2261

Slowly now we heal the earth;
Slowly now we heal our soul;
Surely now we tend our hearth;
Finally now we have a goal 

Worthy of humanity:
Not to overcome each other —
We work together to save our Mother,
And never wake those Dogs of War. 

IMG_9137

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

Essay on Peace, War, and Greed.

Wartime Playtime

21 Friday Feb 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Feedback, games, innovation, learning, legends, myths, truth, vicious cycle, war, weapons

Tu-Swift laughed. 

BDAD5D7D-3543-4705-9A06-7CD7659129E4

He had mastered juggling four sacks, or four rocks and had been working all morning on five, but with little success. Sooz shook her head and chuckled good-naturedly. “Don’t give up, Tu-Swift. You’ll get there.” Then, after a pause, she added, “Though you may be an old man with a long white beard.” 

“What? You’ll pay for that!” He began to chase her around the training space. Being lighter, Sooz could turn more quickly. After a few moments, Cat Eyes appeared. Tu-Swift called out, “Help me catch this fox! I can’t turn fast enough!” 

Cat Eyes laughed as well. With a serious note in her voice, she added, “You shouldn’t be trying to turn fast. Let your knee heal, would you?” 

1A559AF5-59A6-4D1E-929D-B09054B43A89

Tu-Swift’s face darkened for a moment. The ground around them also grew dark as a passing cloud momentarily blocked the sun. He wondered briefly whether he would ever really regain his speed and mobility. Then, just as the ground grew sunny again, so did his face. Time would tell. Meantime…

Just then, he heard the deep voice of Jaccim. He was trying, but largely failing, to speak Veritas. With the help of Cat Eyes, he eventually made himself clear. He had asked why they were playing when there was likely to be a war which they should all be preparing for. They had been “marked” for war. This was no time for juggling nonsense or for laughing. 

Tu-Swift replied, “Hello, Jaccim. I see you brought your own clouds with you.” 

Sooz and Cat Eyes both laughed, though in a friendly way. Tu-Swift continued, “Jaccim, this is the way of the Veritas. Don’t you ever play?” 

Jaccim’s head snapped back and he frowned. He spoke and Cat Eyes translated. “Me? Certainly not! Play is for small children. Not someone your age. All of you should be preparing for war. It is serious.” 

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

Many Paths who strode into the training area overheard the last part of the translated conversation. She smiled at all of them and supplemented her Veritas with sign language so that Jaccim would directly understand as much as possible. “You are right. It is serious. This is why we play. We need weapons. New weapons. Weapons that no-one will suspect. That is why  we watch and listen to those whose minds are like water flooding over new plains. They will go ways that we cannot foresee. Nor can others. What shall we care who wins a war if life holds no joy? Every moment now is precious. This is what the Veritas always teach. But now that we may be on the brink of destruction, joy is more important than ever.” 

Jaccim frowned and answered with a mixture of sign language and broken Veritas. “What may be gained by juggling bags or rocks? It is foolish.”

Many Paths smiled at Tu-Swift. She put her hand into a fold of her tunic and brought out a knife and casually tossed it to Tu-Swift. She quickly threw him two more. He easily caught all three and began juggling the three knives. 

Jaccim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could formulate his answer in the tongue of the Veritas, he heard three odd sounds a little like a horse’s whinny and a little like a large rock hitting a tree trunk. He frowned and then his mouth dropped open farther as he saw all three knives sticking out of three nearby tree trunks. Tu-Swift had thrown all three underhand and hard into three targets. Jaccim tried to speak but nothing came out. It wasn’t that he did not know the Veritas words for what he wanted to say. There were no words. Even a sensible language like ROI could not help him. Tu-Swift, meanwhile, calmly walked over and wiggled each of the knives out and handed them back to Many Paths. 

6A476221-BDAD-4FC1-97A4-531C91BE04AC

She smiled at Tu-Swift and continued out of the clearing. As she reached the edge she looked back over her shoulder and said, “Keep up the good work.” 

Jaccim understood her words but not her thinking. She was supposed to be the leader. Yet she spoke of joy and play even though they would likely soon be at war. It made no sense, thought Jaccim. It’s what comes, he thought, of having a woman as leader. We would not have a woman as leader. Not the ROI. Nor would the Z-Lotz. It’s all foolishness. As the Veritas will soon discover for themselves. How had these people defeated the ROI and destroyed his village? 

Tu-Swift called out, “Many Paths! Have you a moment? I wish to show you something else!” 

Many Paths turned back, “I am on my way to meet up with Shadow Walker but I can see what else you have first.” 

Tu-Swift glanced at Sooz and once he had caught her eye, gestured over toward a contraption they had constructed at the end of the training compound. Two vines were suspended from a strong overhanging branch. The vines looped through a thick wooden plank which lay parallel to the ground. Sooz lifted a leg over the plank coquettishly as she smiled at Tu-Swift. He walked around behind her and pushed. He found pushing her surprisingly pleasurable and his cheeks flushed. 

back view photo of woman swinging

Photo by Ahmad Fauzi on Pexels.com

Sooz swung forward and then arced back toward Tu-Swift. Just as she stopped, he pushed her again. Each time, he pushed at just the right time and she swung higher and higher. After a score of pushes, he changed the timing so that he pushed against her momentum and gradually slowed her to a stop. 

Jaccim shook his head. He could see no reason for such frivolity. 

Tu-Swift walked over to Many Paths. “We had been swinging on a single vine and Sooz thought this would work — and it did. But the thing we really wanted to show you is this. He walked over to a small pile of straps made of softened hide. He put a stone in a small, broad but shallow pit in the strap. He motioned for the others to stand behind a nearby tree and peek out. He put both ends of the strap in his hand and began whirling it around his head. He suddenly let go of one end and the stone went flying. It thunked loudly into one of the small, dead pine trunks that had been partly buried in the ground. Many Paths led the others over to see the result. The stone lay buried in the trunk. She nodded. “Nice,” she said. 

Many Paths nodded again. “Yes. This is good. You have an almost endless supply of stones. Imagine these flying into an army from many directions at once. It will be hard to defend against.” Many Paths smiled again at Tu-Swift and set off to meet up with Shadow Walker. 

As Many Paths left the clearing, she ducked under an overhanging branch of Witch Hazel and spoke aloud, “Thank you for your medicine.” She walked down a sweetly curving path toward a small spring. Three pink flowers, Lady Slippers, poked their heads through the dark greenery. She began thinking about the sedation caused by Lady Slippers and recalled what She Who Saves Many Lives had said. “After the sedation wears off, one may be nervous and high strung for a time.” Many Paths had only tried it twice and she experienced exactly what the elder had described both times. It had felt a lot like the way that the roots of Sweet Flag made her feel. But after the effects of Sweet Flag wore off, it made her feel tired and groggy. Odd, she thought. 

She chuckled at the swinging seat that Tu-Swift and Sooz had created though she couldn’t see how that led to the sling weapon he had shown her. It all had to do with the timings of the pushes, she reminded herself. Suddenly, many paths stopped. 

She thought of the swing, the pushes, the Lady Slippers, and the Sweet Flag. What if… what if I pushed with a little Lady Slipper and then… just when it began to wear off, I pulled with some Sweet Flag…a person might become very nervous and want more Lady Slipper… what would happen if they were pushed and pulled higher and higher? I wouldn’t poison the person exactly. Would it tear the body apart? Tearing the people apart with such pushes seemed to be what was indicated in the strange tales scribed into the sheaf of leaves that had been discovered by Lion Slayer and Eagle Eyes. Could that really happen? Was there a way to tear apart the Z-Lotz? Was there a way to tear apart the Veritas? And, if so, how could it be prevented? 

B723FC76-0CC5-4DDB-8A0B-DFADBB1884FD_4_5005_c

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

 

Wilbur’s Story

19 Wednesday Feb 2020

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

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

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

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

flight sky sunset men

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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

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

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

cascade creek environment fern

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

close up photo of lion

Photo by Gareth Davies on Pexels.com

Thanks, Wilbur.

Thanks.


Author Page on Amazon.

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

 

Many Shiny Things

13 Thursday Feb 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

leadership, legends, myths, peace, stories, tales, truth, war, weapons

IMG_3484

The days continued to grow longer. The herbs and dyes had been collected and prepared. Masks had been constructed for everyone in the tribe old enough to talk and walk. Many Paths, after consulting with everyone, had decided that all of the Veritas, and not just the young adults would be initiated into the ways of the warrior. Although kids had sometimes imitated the actions of their older brothers and sisters and engaged in mock combat, now the Veritas faced an enemy who stole children. If such children were snatched, it was important that they be able to fight, in order to delay capture, and to maim or injure the attackers. They must also be able to lie in wait patiently and be able to strike after capture; to see when the opportunity arose; and then to strike in such a way that they had little chance of being blamed. 

Jaccim had confirmed that the Z-Lotz greatly preferred to steal children. Kids could be trained early to be docile slaves. Occasionally, attractive full-grown women would be stolen as well but they tended to be less docile and therefore less desirable to the Z-Lotz. Many Paths had already performed the molting ritual on Tu-Swift and he had worked with Sooz and Cat Eyes to teach the youngsters of the tribe to fight. This training had been mostly about perception and reaction. Now, the training would turn more serious and young children were about to be taught about weapons, hand combat, and about poisons and imagination. 

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Many Paths wanted the children to be initiated and wear make up and masks so that when and if the Veritas found themselves once more at peace, they could remove these masks and make up and that removal of the outward trappings of war would hopefully help also remove the killing mindset that she meant to inculcate into everyone in the tribe. 

A great feast of wild boar, honeyed grain-cakes, roasted nuts, and boiled cattail had been laid out in the late afternoon. After the feast, the Veritas came to Many Paths one by one, oldest to youngest and stood before her. She handed each one a mask and anointed each with two dark marks of charcoal on their cheeks. The masks resembled various animals and were worn on the back of the head or, more rarely, on the side of the head. They were not meant to disguise the person’s face. Instead, the masks were intended to confuse the enemy about the orientation of the Veritas warrior so that killing blows would tend to arise from unsuspected places. 

The Veritas came to her in order from oldest to youngest. Though Many Paths followed tradition in this, she could see the wisdom of that tradition. The youngest would have seen many models of how to behave from the elders and then the adults and then their older brothers and sisters. She felt and displayed a fittingly somber mood for the business at hand weighed heavily upon her. And though she intoned the ritual words with feeling, at the same time, half of her mind began to mull on the situation that required turning the people to killing. She heartily wished that the world had not turned so ugly and warlike. Yet, those wishes had no impact on reality. Many Paths did promise herself that she would continue to remind people of the lessons learned from The Battle of the Three Paths. 

77A3526C-DBFC-4FC8-8767-E9D9E95ACF98

In that battle, NUT-PI had arranged three armies to fight against the Veritas. Two of those armies had instead become friends. Peace proved to be a very strong weapon. Many Paths would come to caution the Veritas not to become so enamored of weapons that they overlooked the possible paths to peace. Though she believed this, Many Paths also recognized that the alliances between the Cupiditas and the Nomads of the South and between the Cupiditas and the Fierce and Formidable Warriors of the North were both tenuous and temporary. They did not have a preponderance of true common interests. This had made rational dialogue possible. The “loyalty” of these tribes to NUT-PI was nothing more than a temporary convenience, fairly easily overcome by showing them the lies of NUT-PI and a path to a more permanent self-interest. Also, no blood had yet been spilled. Once blood had been spilled on both sides, talk of peace could easily be shouted out by the drums of war that banged in the heart of every warrior amplified by sorrow, fear, and anger. Many Paths reminded herself that she needed to have a frank talk with Lion Slayer about whether any from among the Nomads of the South would choose to fight with the Veritas. 

She decided to wait a few more days for such a conversation and to include his mate, Hudah Salah, as well. When they had first arrived to spend a year with the Veritas, she had seemed unwilling to say much and agreed with her husband on every point. Something had changed however. Many Paths thought there were three reasons. First, she had become much more familiar with the Veritas language. Second, she had many actual friends now among the Veritas. When she arrived, she only knew her husband, Fleet of Foot and Eagle Eyes. Now, she knew everyone in the tribe and everyone knew her. Third, the great fire had separated her for a time from her husband and she had to survive without him, without knowing whether he was alive or dead. Many Paths judged that his deepened their love but also grew her independence. Many Paths also thought that Lion Slayer would be more likely to imagine everyone among the Nomads of the South would feel however he felt. Hudah Salah, would be more in tune with the heart of the entire tribe. She would not unthinkingly imagine that all of them would be as eager or reluctant to join in a lethal fight as she herself was. 

people in a culture event

Photo by Chait Goli on Pexels.com

The “coming to war” ritual ended with a long, energetic dance. This served to burn off some of the nervous energy that naturally arose from everyone in the tribe preparing for war. It also served to remind each person among the Veritas that they were part of a larger whole. Everyone participated including Many Paths and She Who Saves Many Lives. Though the latter was not so quick as she had once been, she moved with a grace and beauty that caused many in the tribe to smile. Long energetic dances also served as a training for long marches or fierce battles. Everyone took note of everyone else so they came to expect the tempo and style of everyone else in the tribe. This, Many Paths realized, could be quite helpful in coordinated group action. Everyone could see, for example, that Shadow Walker’s ankle was completely healed while Tu-Swift had still not recovered his former speed. A lot of information was exchanged about individuals at the same time that each individual felt more integrated into the whole. It occurred to Many Paths that some such a dance should be repeated with whomever joined in the Veritas endeavor, whether the Veritas who lived beyond the Twin Mountains or the Nomads of the South. The dance also tended to physically exhaust everyone and, as a steady wind bends the long grass, it would bend everyone toward much needed sleep rather than useless worry. 

The next day began bright and clear. She met early with Tu-Swift, Eagle Eyes, Cat Eyes, Sooz, and Shadow Walker. She began by describing her experiment with reflections that had caused a twig to burst into flames. Using the Rings of Empathy and many pieces of mica, she arranged the reflections so that they all focused on a small dried twig. Again, it seemed as though nothing was happening when suddenly the twig burst into flames. Salah Hudah had been weaving nearby, not participating in the conversation. But when she saw the twig burst into flames, she exclaimed something aloud in her native tongue. She walked over to the group and spoke in Veritas nearly as well as those who were born Veritas might. 

“These things,” she gestured around at the rings and mica, “are all shiny. Very shiny. We have in our land some shiny things as well. There is a shiny black stone which can be polished so much that you can see yourself as if looking in a clear, calm, lake. We call it ‘OB-ESS-DIAN.” And, there is another thing on the edge of the deep desert lands where no-one goes. It is also shiny. Very shiny. We polish it. We shape it. But it is evil. We call it GLAZ. Those who touch it get burned. We only discovered a few winters ago. We thought to make jewelry or … a kind of pond to look at yourself. I think it could be useful weapon this way too. But dangerous. It burns the hands as though you were too long in the sun. But it is not hot.”  

close up photography of burning woods

Photo by Tim Erben on Pexels.com

Many Paths thanked Salah Hudah and contemplated once again how much better it was to have made friends with the Nomads of the South rather than fighting them. She vowed to try to find such a way even with the People Who Steal Children. But such people killed with no honor. With Killing Sticks. How could peace come about? It was a puzzle: an important one, but seemingly unsolvable. 

Tu-Swift brought out his sword and moved it about. “This is very shiny too. As is Shadow Walker’s. I think…here’s let’s try making both of them shine onto a twig.” Shadow Walker worked with Tu-Swift and they reflected the sunbeams from their sword onto another dry twig. It did not burst into flames. They waited. At last, Cat Eyes stretched forth her hand and gingerly touched the twig.

“It’s warmer than just the sun would do, but not warm enough to burst into flame. But something else might work very well. In the village of the Z-Lotz, many of the richest families have such a portable pond looker as Salah Hudah described. But no-one I heard of got burned from it. So, perhaps it is made of something different. I don’t know.” 

“Thank you, Cat Eyes. How many of these portable lookers are there in the whole of the  Z-Lotz village?” 

Cat Eyes sighed. “I was there as a slave. So, I was unable to go wherever I liked. There are many people. Sometimes, I visited other houses. All of them had such things. But I seldom went to small houses. I would say, these many. But I really don’t know.” Cat Eyes held up both hands ten times; each time, all fingers were splayed out. “One hundred.” 

Many Paths nodded. “One hundred. Yet, so few as ten pieces of mica, and seven shiny stones can make a dry piece of wood burst into flame. Imagine what one hundred shiny things might do if all the many paths of light come together at one time and place.” 

Shadow Walker said, “That, I think, would be very hot indeed. However, we don’t own those possible weapons. I don’t see how we can get them. But what of the shiny things of the Nomads of the South? How many of those are there, Salah?” 

“Of the black OB-ESS-DIAN, there are many. Ten times ten. Of the clear ones… there may be one or two, but to my knowledge, once people realized they caused burns, no-one wanted them. People gave them back to the deep desert.”

The group thought about that for a time. Presently, Tu-Swift said, “I don’t understand. Why don’t they just use a long handle or many layers of cloth to protect their hands? Surely, you tried this, Salah?” 

“Tu-Swift, you speak true. People did try this. We sometimes make even stones by hardening mud in fire. They become quite hard. But when they are first made by such hot fire, the stones themselves are too hot to touch. However, we take them out of the oven with large mittens made of many layers. People’s hands do not get burned. But there is something different about GLAZ. Many layers of cloth do not prevent burns though the GLAZ is not itself hot! It seems magic but evil. That’s why we returned it to the deep desert where no-one goes.”  

Cat Eyes began to speak. “Fire ants feel like burning when they bite you. But they are not themselves hot. Their tiny side teeth pierce your skin. Perhaps such ants are made of the same stuff as the GLAZ at the edge of the desert.”

close up photo of ant

Photo by Egor Kamelev on Pexels.com

Salah Hudah nodded. “Perhaps. We know also of these fire ants. They sting. They feel hot. But people recover. The burns of GLAZ do not get better. More moons, more pain. They are something from a world of evil. I think the people, my people,…maybe they lend you or trade you for OB-ESS-DIAN. But all this to set a fire? Isn’t it easier to use fire arrows?” 

Shadow Walker spoke next. “We should not forget what happened to the ROI. They used fire arrows against us twice. The first time, they surprised us. It helped them steal Tu-Swift. But the second time, they tried to destroy us, and they succeeded in destroying their own village and many of their people. According to Jaccim, the ROI were led by a cruel lying leader, and then, so far as we can tell, he was killed himself. I don’t much like fire arrows. But it’s better to use them than to become enslaved.” 

Tu-swift added thoughtfully, “Perhaps we can get the Z-Lotz themselves to destroy their leader. He seems very cruel.” 

Cat Eyes scrunched her face up and chewed her lips. “Perhaps. The people I stayed with, the richest among the Z-Lotz privately scoffed at NUT-PI — just as they did about their beliefs — but, because they are rich, they like having NUT-PI as a leader, if you can call him that. No doubt, there are man people in the village of the Z-Lotz who would like to have NUT-PI gone, but I’m not sure they are prosperous enough to have — I think they are called ‘looking glasses.’ Does that make sense? I think only the rich people like them.”

Many Paths nodded. “I’m not sure. If it is as you say, then the rich would have to have very good reason to use this weapon of many looking glasses against NUT-PI. But there could be other ways to bring many weapons to bear through many paths. For instance, arrows, even if not fire arrows, could be fired from many directions at once. Rocks could be thrown from many directions. Small amounts of many poisons might be given. And, maybe we could use mica and jewels to make many reflections to heat up … to heat up a Killing Stick until it catches fire. Or, perhaps, we could even use the killing GLAZ. If NUT-PI thought it was very rare, and very precious, he might desire much of it. If he surrounds himself with such GLAZ, he might get quite sick and not know why.” 

Eagle Eyes had been fairly silent and now began to draw a map of sorts in the dirt. “All of these weapons we are discussing converge from many paths on to one place; for example, NUT-PI. But if we were to kill the Z-Lotz leader, wouldn’t they simply pick a new leader?”

Many Paths said, “It might take them some time. As I best understand it, if one of the Cupiditas kills the leader, then that person becomes the new leader. I don’t know about the Z-Lotz though. If they do the same, it might be confusing if many people at once killed the old leader. Who would get to be the new leader?” 

Cat Eyes said, “I am not sure, but I think the Z-Lotz might do something similar. It might be confusing for them if many people together killed their leader. He is a very loud screamer, but I don’t think he’s very brave. I’m not sure why I think that. Anyway, he’s not very athletic. He looks nothing like Shadow Walker or Trunk of Tree, for instance.” She smiled at Tu-Swift. “Honestly, Tu-Swift, in a fair fight, I think you could take him. But I don’t think a fair fight is of any interest to him.” 

Tu-Swift blushed. “I would love to do that if he’s behind the stealing of children.” 

toddler with red adidas sweat shirt

Photo by mohamed Abdelgaffar on Pexels.com

Many Paths spoke again. “We have many ideas. Which path proves most fruitful though will remain a mystery until we find out more. I think that the construction of a good weapon that will be effective depends on knowing more. We need to find out more. How are their walls constructed? Can we tunnel under them to sneak in? Can we dig under them to cause collapse? Are the walls too high to fire arrows over? Rocks? Should we attack with many? Or, should we sneak in a few? Can we steal enough of these looking glasses to make a weapon? Can we steal their killing sticks? More swords? Can we sabotage their bows and arrows as Tu-Swift did to the ROI? And, how can we use our horses? Will they join us in this fight?” 

Shadow Walker took a deep breath, “Many, I think I should go visit these Z-Lotz. Maybe I could trade with them and get some Killing Sticks in this way. We have many fine and beautiful baskets. And, Salah Hudah, do you think these shiny things that cause burns can be recovered or — ?”

Salah Hudah shook her head violently. “I don’t think you should touch them. I don’t think you’ll find them — at least not easily. Our people just wanted to get rid of them. They are covered up now with shifting of many sands. But they burn without warning. And worse. One woman who especially liked these. She was very beautiful. She had many suitors who brought her such as treasures. She paid much. She became something else. Her body began to grow like mushrooms. No longer beautiful. And, she was sick in every way. And died. That is what triggered everyone to throw them out.” 

“I should go with you,” volunteered Eagle Eyes. I can see danger before danger sees us. And I have been there before. “What of you, Cat Eyes? You know this place better than anyone else? Will you come too?” 

Cat Eyes nodded. “I will go. I like this place much better! Much better! But perhaps it would be well for me to go first to my people. Some may recognize me. I may recognize them. I can be…I can be like a pair of logs over the brook and allow others to cross. Perhaps the Veritas over the Twin Mountains will have other weapons or other knowledge. Then, we can decide what to do about the Z-Lotz. It is also possible they might leave us alone?” 

“I hope that,” said Many Paths. “Why must people steal children? But I don’t think they will leave us alone. I do not think they will leave the Nomads of the South alone either. Nor, the Fierce and Formidable Warriors of the North. Nor anyone who simply wants to live in peace. If I thought otherwise, we would not have all sworn to the way of the warrior. But that does not mean we must attack at once. More knowledge would be good. Let us first try to reach the Veritas beyond the Twin Peaks. Jaccim knows how to find a path there, so he thinks. 

mountain covered with snow

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

“Meanwhile, we will grow stronger and faster and learn the skills of killing in case we need such skills. We will continue to train even the smallest among us so that if any such are captured, they will be weapons; unsuspected weapons like Cat Eyes.” 

Now, Eagle Eyes spoke, “You are wise, Many Paths. I have a thought though about yet another weapon.” 

“We have trained a few from among the Wolf Pups. And, we have trained few from among the Eagles. What if … you know that I can draw a likeness of any of you and that you will know who that likeness is. Eagles have eyes even better than ours. I am wondering whether it is not possible … perhaps if I can see the Z-Lotz leader, I can teach my eagles, and more eagles besides, to attack this hateful man and pluck his eyes out. Could it be possible? I don’t know. And for Wolves the same. Except they do not see as well as do we ourselves. But each person smells different. If someone can steal some of his clothing, perhaps such pups could be trained to attack and kill something that smells of him.”

white and yellow bird shallow focus photography

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Many Paths smiled at her friend. For the first time since she found out about the Killing Sticks, she felt confident that there was a way to prevail against such a weapon and that they would find it. And use it. “Those are excellent ideas, Eagle Eyes.” 

Everyone in the group nodded. 

Many Paths spoke again, and her voice sounded clear and confident, “I promise you, we will not rest until we find a lasting and believable peace with these Z-Lotz. Or, we will destroy their leader. If that doesn’t stop them from stealing children, we will destroy the next leader. And the next. At last, everyone shall also be destroyed and all of their Killing Sticks — until they stop stealing children.” 

brown bird flying near mountain

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

———————————————-

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration  

 

    

Many Paths for Many Weapons

06 Thursday Feb 2020

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

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

legends, myths, stories, strategy, tales, war

brown and grey wooden house beside green leaf tall tree

Photo by Shane Kell on Pexels.com

In the Center Place of the Veritas, it happened throughout her life that Many Paths daily crossed the path of She Who Saves Many Lives. Lately, however, She Who Saves Many Lives had turned more often to the outskirts of the Center Place, dialoguing with the burbling brook, or watching for wildlife. So, after waiting for an accidental encounter for a few days, Many Paths decided to find the Elder intentionally to get her advice. As Many Paths approached the cabin of the former leader, she could already sense that the cabin was empty. It “sounded” empty and it … seemed … empty. Many Paths looked at the sky, and a path appeared before her mind as to the one most harmonious to all her causes. So she took it. 

The day had broken hot and grown hotter. As soon as Many Paths ducked under the overhanging branches and entered the shaded outer woods, she felt the coolness like a drink of clear cold water. The deer flies immediately sensed her presence, but she, like most of the Veritas prepared herself for summer by using leaf tinctures of eucalyptus, thyme, lavender, and pepper. 

056BD29E-E861-48E9-8B5D-90FCB85CE516

Many Paths noticed that somehow, the flies sensed she was there and were attracted to her and yet…when they got near, instead of alighting and biting, they hovered and took off. Perhaps, there are ways to induce the Z-Lotz to wear perfumes or clothing that attracts insects such as wasps or ants or deer flies. Maybe we could make something that attracts the Z-Lotz thinking that we are “prey” but then, as they get closer, a different set of circumstances makes them think that we are not “prey” at all, but something quite dangerous, or disgusting, or unworthy of any attention at all. 

Many Paths emerged onto the grassy embankment alongside a brook which was bubbling its song to the world. She recognized the back of She Who Saves Many Lives, sitting silently on a fallen cottonwood trunk. Many Paths pondered seeing how close she could come to the older woman. It was a game they had played all their lives, but then, before taking a step, she decided against it. Maybe she would startle the older lady too much.

Without turning around, She Who Saves Many Lives spoke in her loud clear voice, “Well met, Many Paths. Come, come sit beside me.” She Who Saves Many Lives patted the dry, but mossy stump. “And don’t worry. If you sneak up behind me some day and scare me to my death, it was surely my time to become a more disbursed part of the great tree of life. You will have done me a great favor. I will at that last moment know you played a joke, and that you have truly mastered your skills as one who moves with the wind. And I will see the joke and the growth and know that I die with a friend who is a wonderful leader to our people. Is there a better death? I can think of none.” She Who Saves Many Lives smiled warmly and continued,  “But that time has not yet come. Now, Many Paths, about what did you wish to speak?”

IMG_7590

“As you know, She Who Saves Many Lives, we have various groups working on various problems and I am myself, leading the group to think of new weapons.” Many Paths sighed. “I am seeing weapons everywhere! Even walking here. Anywhere.” 

The Elder looked kindly at Many Paths and took hold of her hands. “It sounds to me as though you’re doing a good job. And, I know you have a great imagination. Yet, there is a problem?” 

“I’m afraid of what I may become if I see everything in terms of how it can maim, kill, or protect. And even when — yesterday, I looked at the afternoon rainbow and tried to find a way to use it as a weapon. And I could not. Which I found frustrating. And, it made me not even like the rainbow! It’s beautiful! Shouldn’t that be enough? I don’t want to be a person who fails to see beauty. And, neither do I think it’s good for the tribe.”

She Who Saves Many Lives waited, as she knew good friends or good leaders often will have to do.

Many Paths continued. “Yesterday, I took a walk with the Wolf Pubs and Shadow Walker. His ankle is fine now, but the way. Tu-Swift still has difficulties. We saw Stone Chipper with his son, Sees Horses. And the father showed me some very interesting rocks he had happened upon. He called it ‘mica’ and said he had never seen anything like it before. He showed some to us. It was … you could break this rock into very thin slices. They were so thin you could see right through the rock! It reminded me most of fish scales. Everyone was excited — I swear, even the wolf pups, though they were probably sensing our excitement. I immediately asked if it could be used for arrowheads. He said no, the material was very weak and to show me, he crumbled some in his fingers. Quite easily.” 

She Who Saves Many Lives waited. At last, as good friends and good leaders often will have to do, she prompted, “So you lost interest in the material?”

“No. That would have been bad enough, but I got more interested in the material. Because making arrowheads is something we’ve been doing for generations and generations. But making a weapon with mica !! Now that would be something. It’s shiny. You can see through it! It’s weak, but light in weight. How do we use all that to make a weapon from it? That’s the question that my mind has been pre-occupied with ever since. But I cannot turn this mind for more than a moment to the question of how we might use mica in decoration or clothing or shelter. Though, by the way, it could keep the wind out yet let much light through. Most of my thoughts have been about how to use it as a weapon. And as I talked aloud, since I’m the leader, everyone else’s excitement … abated. Even the excitement of Shadow Walker. When he first saw this mica he was fascinated by it. Since it breaks easily yet feels hard, I wonder if one might build a bridge that every Veritas knows not to use.” The voice of Many Paths grew louder now with each word. “Because once you step out over the chasm it breaks into crumbs and you plummet to rocky bone-breaking death. Which, by the way, you deserve, because you stole my brother!”

accuracy action active activity

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Many Paths had let go of the hands of She Who Saves Many Lives and now she stood, trembling with rage. Her voice became grim. “I will find every kind of weapon for these people. But what will it do to the tribe to make such weapons that … weapons that our enemies do not even see as weapons — poison disguised as food; traps disguised as steps; stones falling off buildings; air that kills; clothing that catches fire; it doesn’t end.” Many Paths took out the string upon which she had strung all seven rings of empathy. She sat now on a sandy patch near an old campfire, not far from She Who Saves Many Lives. “You gave me these rings of empathy and now…if I am to find weapons, will they not just get in the way? I mean won’t empathy get in the way?” She took the rings off her string and laid them out in a semi-circle in front of her. She arranged them distractedly. The sun was high and if she tilted the rings the proper way, each of them reflected light strongly in one direction. She played with tilting them so that the rays flitted across the face of a nearby reflector rock. 

She Who Saved Many Lives looked on. “You know in your heart that I did not give you the rings of empathy. You earned them. I didn’t play favorites. I think you are right to be concerned. Thinking about creative ways to harm or kill others is not something good for the soul. But you have such a good mind for thinking of weapons. Sometimes, of course, weapons have other uses, but that seems more like a rationalization, not a rationale. I think you are right though. At least until we find out more about the Killing Sticks, you need to think of all the ways to kill these People Who Steal Other People’s Children must not be allowed to keep stealing and killing or my prophesy dream may indeed come true. The Veritas could be wiped out. We know what happened as a result of the Orange Man, a whole tribe wiped out. We don’t want that, clearly.”  

Many Paths listened intently, not only because this was the way of the Veritas, but also because she was genuinely interested in the Elder’s thoughts. Nonetheless, Many Paths kept toying with the rings. She also recalled that she had put several pieces of mica into her tinder pouch, hoping that the cottony milkweed and dandelion seeds and cat-tail pollen would cushion the mica slices sufficiently to keep them whole. She was delighted to find they reflected spots onto the reflector wall as well and she wiggled them into the sand. 

dandelion nature sunlight

Photo by Nita on Pexels.com

“Thank you for listening, Wise One. It feels good to be warming in the sunlight. It also feels good to listen to the light of your wisdom.” Many Paths did feel better, though nothing had really been yet resolved. “I’m warmer in the light of the sun. I’m warmer in the light of the sun.” 

“Yes, most of us are, Many Paths.” 

Many Paths stood up and grabbed a nearby twig. She set it up in the sand, like a tiny tree. “I’m warmer in the sun. I’m warmer in the sun.” Many Paths muttered this a few more times as she adjusted the rings and the mica slices so that they all beamed the reflected light onto the twig. As more reflections were added, it became more difficult to align them, that is, to tell where each reflection was. She found that if she started with the reflection above the nexus and slowly lowered it, she could put it right atop the others. It was clearly much brighter than a twig simply sitting in the sun. She felt sure that it was also warmer. She began to cautiously stretch her hand forward to see whether it had been warmed so quickly when the twig burst into flames. Many Paths jumped back. 

night fire burning sparks

Photo by Miriam Espacio on Pexels.com

Many Paths looked over at the astonished Elder and winked. “Everything is warmer in the sun. Perhaps I will rename myself ‘Many Weapons.’ Perhaps these Rings of Empathy really are more powerful than I was … led to believe.” 

“Many Paths, the power is in your mind. Now, as for the other, I can perform a ritual for you. And this is what I propose. So long as you are in the role of looking for weapons to use against the People Who Steal Children, I will paint your forehead and your cheeks with this blue war paint. You will be called “Many Paths for Many Weapons.” 

When we win and the Z-Lotz are no longer a threat, then I will remove your warpaint and we will simply call you “Many Paths” again. 

Many Paths looked at the wise smiling eyes of She Who Saves Many Lives. She nodded her head and saw the wisdom of formally recognizing a special role so that Many Paths would not confuse her natural bent with what she could accomplish. But she also vowed to try to think about how to make the Veritas stronger, healthier, and wiser in numerous ways. Among those ways would be using weapons but also learning how to create weapons out of anything. If they were in a battle; if they were — if they were captured. Look what Tu-Swift had done, she thought. “She Who Saves Many Lives, I have one more question to ask you. Do you think it appropriate to have a ceremony of a similar sort for Tu-Swift? He was able to wreak havoc amongst the ROI, even as an unarmed child. But, I have the same worry that I have for me and he is much younger.” 

“I don’t think working on how to defend himself would be more traumatic than having been stolen from the feast and thrown into a cage. Just as you feel you want to do something in your defense, and possibly for revenge, so too does he. But yes. He should be anointed anew until you defeat the Z-Lotz. However, you should be the one to anoint him. You are the leader now. I will only anoint you because anointing yourself is … it is not something seemly for any real leader ever to do. Your power, of course, should be … how on earth did you get that twig to burst into flames? That is not something I foresaw in the making of the rings. I did not know that they had that power.”

Many Paths said quietly. “The power of empathy is allowing each to know the heart of each. And, when that is truly done, then, the power of the rings is that all may be focused on defeating one. What is not even a weapon at all — such as a nice warming sun — can become a weapon when there are many working together.” 

IMG_3484 

————————————————

Author Page on Amazon

Start of the First Book of The Myths of the Veritas

Start of the Second Book of the Myths of the Veritas

Table of Contents for the Second Book of the Veritas

Table of Contents for Essays on America 

Index for a Pattern Language for Teamwork and Collaboration    

← Older posts
Newer posts →

Subscribe

  • Entries (RSS)
  • Comments (RSS)

Archives

  • May 2026
  • April 2026
  • March 2026
  • February 2026
  • January 2026
  • December 2025
  • November 2025
  • October 2025
  • September 2025
  • August 2025
  • July 2025
  • June 2025
  • May 2025
  • April 2025
  • March 2025
  • February 2025
  • January 2025
  • December 2024
  • November 2024
  • October 2024
  • September 2024
  • July 2024
  • April 2024
  • March 2024
  • February 2024
  • January 2024
  • December 2023
  • August 2023
  • July 2023
  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • March 2023
  • February 2023
  • January 2023
  • December 2022
  • November 2022
  • October 2022
  • September 2022
  • August 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • April 2022
  • March 2022
  • February 2022
  • January 2022
  • December 2021
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • August 2021
  • July 2021
  • June 2021
  • May 2021
  • April 2021
  • March 2021
  • February 2021
  • January 2021
  • December 2020
  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • August 2020
  • July 2020
  • June 2020
  • May 2020
  • April 2020
  • March 2020
  • February 2020
  • January 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • September 2019
  • August 2019
  • July 2019
  • June 2019
  • May 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • February 2019
  • January 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • August 2018
  • July 2018
  • June 2018
  • May 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • February 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • August 2017
  • July 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • February 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • July 2016
  • June 2016
  • May 2016
  • April 2016
  • March 2016
  • February 2016
  • January 2016
  • December 2015
  • November 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • May 2015
  • January 2015
  • July 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013

Categories

  • AI
  • America
  • apocalypse
  • cats
  • COVID-19
  • creativity
  • design rationale
  • dogs
  • driverless cars
  • essay
  • family
  • fantasy
  • fiction
  • HCI
  • health
  • management
  • nature
  • pets
  • poetry
  • politics
  • psychology
  • Sadie
  • satire
  • science
  • sports
  • story
  • The Singularity
  • Travel
  • Uncategorized
  • user experience
  • Veritas
  • Walkabout Diaries

Meta

  • Create account
  • Log in

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Subscribe Subscribed
    • petersironwood
    • Join 662 other subscribers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • petersironwood
    • Subscribe Subscribed
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar

Loading Comments...