Tag: WeaveMothers

The Brakeman had a bony countenance…

When reality sucks and attempts to change that reality are met with derision and/or apathy, what is a person to do?  Sometimes the realm of fiction is a good escape.

I’ve had this piece in production since before I decided to give up the fight and stop working to improve that reality.  Let someone else take up the fight and put their heart on the line, to be stomped on and shredded time and again.  And I thought I should probably finish it and share it with those who desire some closure.

The fact that it is connected to the Transgender Day of Remembrance may give it some relevance.

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The Engineer noted the curve in the happentracks ahead.  Sie pulled the cord which let loose a trumpetful of sound.  The Passenger awoke suddenly.  The Storyteller and the Listener looked outward.

Suddenly the train began to slow.  In the cab the Engineer cast a worried look at the Brakeman.  The Brakeman had a bony countenance…

Friday Philosophy: Overcoming Fear

The WeaveMothers watched the train switch to the happentrack which they had just finished.  The transition was as smooth as ever it could be.  

The Engineer guided some steam through the whistle.

And the Storyteller began the tail of the Girl and the Five Fears.

Somewhere in a swamp

In mystic crocodiles’ domain

Live Loneliness, Humiliation,

Loss and Death and Pain

WeaveMothers: What Shenshi Did

The WeaveMothers wove some new happentracks into the Ifalong, for this is what the Weavemothers were meant to do.  And the Greataway sparkled a bit for a moment.  Part of the Tapestry now connected more closely with momentous events and everyone paused for just an instant to reflect.

In the Locomotive the Engineer released some steam through the trumpet and smiled.

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There is a tale that the Storyteller has told often.  It is always a favorite, even by those who have heard it many times.  For the Storyteller always embellishes it somewhat differently.  The truth, they say, is never changed, but it comes in various hues.

The tale relates some of what happened before the Triad was formed.  It is, in fact, the fable of the efforts of Shenshi to cause its formation.  These events took place near Dome Azul at a time long after the color of that dome had faded, and the nearby coastal village of Punto del Oeste.

I can only relate the story in the way I heard it and as I remember it.  One could probably consult the Rainbow for an exact version.  But where would be the fun in that?

WeaveMothers: Post-beginnings

In telling any story I’m told that it is advisable to provide some background.  But the Song of Earth is too much to tell.  According to what is recorded in the Rainbow, the universe computer that records everything (and some even believe is everything), there was once an attempt to sing the song and all who knew it…or thought they did…gathered and sang…for 150 years.

The Storyteller was there.  That’s where he learned his stories before he got on the train.  

And they barely got started.

So maybe one just has to pick a place and tell a little bit and nurture it so that it will grow and answer any relevant questions when they do pop up, if one is able.

In the beginning?

The song doesn’t go back that far, since there was nobody to record it and the Rainbow had not yet been conceived.

But we can speculate that the WeaveMothers were weaving the Tapestry of Life.  Why they have done what they have and when they started will likely always be a mystery.

Café Discovery: the Dedos

Once upon a time I started a story.  Well, actually, I borrowed some dead guy’s story and decided to add to it, subtract from it and generally mold it into something else.

I’ve been asked to relate a bit more of the story.  The last snippet was added to the Ifalong on what we humans describe as November 28, 2008.  Much has transpired since then so I need some time to connect to the Rainbow computer, where the files are kept…if only because it is easier to initiate something comprehensible that way.

It might also be time to learn some other parts of the story.

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The Engineer downshifted and the locomotive slowed as it traversed a difficult curve.

The Storyteller began a new story.  Actually, it was an old story.  One of the oldest…and most important.  The Rainbow computer had it exactly, it was assumed, but nobody told it as well as as the Storyteller.  The Listener became intent on trying to discover previously undiscovered nuance.  And the Passenger continued to dream.

Of the Greataway, a Machine, and WeaveMothers

In the beginning was the Void…and Uncertainty.

So there either was or was not.  Thus the Void was not void.  There was a bit.

It was a very small bang.

The first bit, together with Uncertainty, generated more bits.  SpaceTime erupted, a boil on the butt of perfect emptiness.  The Rainbow computer that is our universe existed.  Or exists.  Or will exist.  Or will have existed.

Tense often doesn’t matter that much in SpaceTime.

Thus were the bones of the the universe laid down, the warp threads of the Tapestry of Life.  This was the Way it was done, in as much as the Way can be described…which is not at all, of course.

The Greataway leapt into existence.

Friday Philosophy: dreams

The collective consciousness of the WeaveMothers sensed the impending change of gears of the Celestial Steam Locomotive.

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The train approached a long uphill grade of the current happentrack.  The Engineer engaged the lever of night.  The passenger continued sleeping.  The listener fell into a trance.  And the storyteller dreamed for them all.

It was a tale of life on the borderland, of the place which was on neither this side nor the other side of the rainbow.

The WeaveMothers have appeared before.  In what passes for chronological order, they are here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here.

Having ready Michael Greatrex Coney’s, Song of Earth is also helpful.  Or you could just relax and accept the possibility of the Celestial Steam Locomotive passing through the Greataway.

Friday Philosophy: Stone Soup

My brain seemed barely capable of stirring together a topic for this evening.  But that was this morning.

Time to make stone soup?  Maybe.

I had some set-ups, like buhdy’s piece about why he is a liberal, like the wholesale denigration of community activists I’ve heard about, or like even Governator Palin, but to be honest, I avoided the RNC broadcasts as much as possible.  Their message never changes.

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The WeaveMothers were one and several.  The several part was not without its danger.  Getting lost in the a reality of a happentrack was an ever-present  possibility.  When that happened, sight of the larger tapestry was usually lost.

And when that happened, there was danger of the tapestry unravelling.  There was even the danger that what had already going to be happening could be forgotten, so that it would never actually ever reach the state of having happened.

They came back together determined to repair the snapped thread.  Raveling was kept to a minimum.  A dropped stitch or four would have to be picked up.  But only a few realities had ceased to exist.  The WeaveMothers mourned the consciousnesses that were still.  The Greataway would be poorer for them never having existed.

Friday Philosophy: Waging Peace

The WeaveMothers, one and several, saw the thread snap.  It whipsawed through the firmament as the tapestry of reality sagged and fragmented.  Like so many other wherewhens, the place of weakness involved the worldtime of the brighter spot.  As much as they could experience Fear, they feared another stillbirth should the loose cable strike the brightness.

And, one and several, they wondered if it didn’t seem dimmer.

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The Engineer seized the braking lever suddenly and pulled with all hir might.  The giant wheels locked and a plaintive squeal proclaimed the rending of the fabric.

The Storyteller ceased singing the song.  The Listener’s head turned to watch the Passenger fall from the seat and awaken suddenly.  On the Passenger’s head there was what could have been blood…near where there could have been other scars.  Some of the Passenger’s face came away in its forelimb.

Café Discovery: On the Thickness of Skin

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The Storyteller took a deep breath and cast back for another memory, another story to tell.  The Listener was patient, but did require the occasional feeding.  The Storyteller chuckled at the observation.  The Engineer glanced backward and nodded.  And the Train switched to another happentrack.  

The Storyteller began to sing.  The Listener leaned forward.  The passenger turned over, but otherwise remained sleeping.

One day Sun found a new canyon.

It hid for miles and ran far away,

then it went under a mountain.  Now Sun

goes over but knows it is there.  And that

is why sun shines–it is always looking.

Be like the sun.

–William Stafford

Δ  Δ  Δ  Δ  Δ Δ

Pine was at it again, hectoring all of creation.  Canyon rolled its eyes as Sun passed overhead.  Canyon preferred peace.

Friday Philosophy: Diversity

We read.  We absorb.  We often find thoughts expressed in much better ways than we could ever express them ourselves.  Sometimes we seek to share those thoughts, hoping against hope that someone else will see what we see, hear what we hear, feel what we feel.

I’ve been spending a long time reading/reading about William Stafford, a neighbor of days gone by, trying to absorb perhaps what could have been in another happentrack.

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The Locomotive’s engineer cast hir mind outwards and sought awareness.  The WeaveMothers, those collective consciousnesses which had distilled from the collective knowledge of all creatures in the Greataway were tending their flocks and new happentracks were condensing into existence.  SpaceTime expanded.  There were new choices for the path of the train to take.

The Storyteller plucked a poem from the past.  The Listener perked up.  The Passenger slept.

Friday Philosophy: Looking back at the present

The WeaveMothers agreed with a request to vibrate a string.  They were whole as well as individual.

Maybe the unit would understand.

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Imagine a future.  In my future, you would choose a good one, one good for coexistence on this planet as long as we all have to live here.  

See if you can act so as to turn reality towards that future.  Plan.  Create or discover the necessary resources.  Shape a scheme.  

Set up the dominoes, as many as you can build, and try to find the words that will generate the change you seek.  You will undoubtedly fail.  Analyze feedback.  Loop.  Hope for convergence.  Better yet, design for it.

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