healing our broken wings. cover image angel fallen with splayed or bloody wings –– Icarus. our industrial civilisation has fallen and we must heal our broken wings if we are to fly again.
when we are learning to know and understand the spells that are binding us now, those so–called limitations, we are already beginning to grow beyond them. but to fully grow beyond them we need to face what they really are, no matter how unpalatable or unpleasant that truth may be.
knowing the truth that our wings are broken helps us to heal them and to fly once more.
within each of us lies a demon, a demon that grows stronger with our passing years. i pray for the strength to leave before it takes over and i become a destroyer. morality, spirituality, and salvation; science, civilisation, and enlightenment; these are all names for our struggle against the demon within. as we grow older or weaker, we become more vulnerable to it.
the demon tells us that what we do is still okay, when clearly what we do has become abusive. for that is another aspect of time, that what was once good and right, as the years pass, are now no longer good nor right, and what is now good and right is something different.
this may be why we have short lives, so that we cannot live too long and destroy too much.
but that does not mean that our lives are worthless or meaningless. there is beauty in living, even if the end is foretold. when we recognise our limits and know our time is short, we can truly live life as fully as we can.
deaden your heart
you must deaden your heart, she said. i couldn't believe my own best friend was saying this to me, so i ran away. i ran far far away. it's been many years since then, yet sometimes i still think of that day.
i always wanted to write a story, a story which spoke to the heart, just like so many that i have read. one day i came to understand that those stories don't speak to people in the same way. in my heart i hope that perhaps some day she will read this story and it will speak to her, as i always wanted to.
she knew about what they had done to me, yet still she loved me, just as i was. she understood why i had become that way, still she believed that i would be able to change for the better. and yet…
but that is getting ahead in our story. you see, our story begins that day when a strange girl looked at me closely and said, i'm looking for a best friend. do you want to be best friends with me?
i didn't know who she was, we had never spoken before, as far as i could remember. but my memory is one of the things that had been changed, so i couldn't rely on that. so i smiled and said, can we get to know each other better first? she said, of course! and we opened our hearts to each other.
homecoming to nature
homecoming to nature is the serenity of the earth
at the core of all faiths is the return to the bosom of the goddess. however tainted a religion has become by the sarcomata of human selfishness, the heart still shines through.
there has always been the quiet story of immanence, unlike the brash trumpeting of those who sought dominance. (it is almost invisible in the historic record.)
never before has there been so much deep unhappiness and loneliness. we are not above nature, and people who think they are, are in denial of reality.
riders of the homecoming
horsemen of apocalypse, war famine pestilence are not far from the path we are walking. (to raise the fifth horse of our homecoming we must) when we defile the very land and sea and sky on which we depend, the outcome is certain. and in our hearts we all know this –– those who deny it in order to justify a worthless selfish existence are abusive, and must be changed.
the end is the beginning
story begins by the host explaining the story came and how for the proper beginning we must start at the end, and pick the end cards. then the character cards and items cards which are very much a metaphor for the cards we are dealt in life. then the game is suddenly interrupted…
look into her eyes, and the world somehow shifted…
witches and magic as the resistance against the tyranny.
the lessons you need to learn are all right there in front of you.
can you create a book with exactly that premise? the last chapter is really the first? or more obviously, we could label the chapters from ten to one, for example. so that the look in the eyes that starts the adventure is also the one that sends us out to the new adventure.
an obvious and a less obvious lesson in each chapter.
lesson one, words and not words
lesson two, the origin of things is the earth, and the path they take is the spell
the patriarchy versus the matriarchy, the rewriting of stories and history and the gods
feelings are all that are available beyond words, the sticky touch of the correct object, the tingles up the spine, the feeling of connection to friendly people.
waiting is not wasted time as your system keeps functioning even if we do not appreciate it — brain and body process what we experience and learns the patterns we need even if they cannot be expressed in words
this is another reason the “Friday” book is so precious to me — its lessons are beyond the words and shown in actions.
in dreams, the non–verbal cues are followed instantly — we are within the x mind
scientists are just beginning to understand the x mind exists, but are still asking the wrong questions of it. so for example, they show that it can differ from what the w mind does, but do not yet know how to ask the questions like, how does the x mind learn? does it learn in a certain way? does it change over time and with feedback? they just assume it reacts like a robot rather than that it is an integral changing part of ourselves.
number of days left wearing the shirt is shown by the number on the front. friend transfers the number from shirt to shirt by patching it — patch heals — only find this out later in the book. I refuse to know, don't wear the numbers. friends discuss that they will just know when their last day will be up…
there are two opposing teams, and we know when someone has the power by when they are running away from others with numbers — and we need to run too, or fight, as one of those teams is the enforcer though we do not know who, and maybe neither do they.
I have the power of greatly enhancing a weapon. most others can extend their chosen weapon and wield it, I just extend other peoples’ … at first. so this gives us an advantage in a fight as others assume they know the limited range of their enemies’ weapons
bring story around to our point that it is the story which holds the power, what we believe that controls us. and because everyone's beliefs are different, so must the antidote be. so cheekily suggest sending copy of this book to everyone so they can make the antidote themselves.
i guess i'm one of those they call the unsaved. but you know what, i don't care. just because they think they saved the world and lots of people agree, doesn't mean i will. i'm not smart or educated and i don't want to be.
when we start from the premise that we hate the world and there is nothing to live for, it can be a difficult journey which we feel it better to end sooner rather than later. but though we know this is how abusive people—and also people who have not yet found a way to deal with the abuse that abusive people do — feel deep inside themselves.
deep within the abuser's heart is this poison, this poison which says to them they are worthless and undeserving. and so they try to prove to this poisonous voice that they are worthy and deserving, except the voice will never agree. for the voice is not a person but a poison. it can never agree. all that can be done is to purge the poison, or they shall die of their own hand.
if the root of all evil is greed, then that poisonous voice in their hearts is the root of all greed. this is truly why love is the answer.
on how to fight sins with other sins. the enemy of sloth is anger. the enemy of fear is greed. the odd thing is that there are only seven deadly sins so how can you fight them all if there will be one left? the only way to solve is to abandon the framework, the story that we cling to. desire is truly the root of all evil. to wish for salvation is itself damnation in disguise.
you see, the enemy of desire is sloth. the sins are not deadly because they are wrong, but because by invoking them, naming them, we call them to shape us and bind us to their never-ending path.
because love, the name we give to the solution, must take at times the aspect of each of the sins to oppose the others, by naming the sins we reject love and thus trap ourselves in the cycle.
their story is a curse, one that can be solved by another story. this is why we should be careful what stories we let ourselves believe or absorb.
like all powerful spells, this story is at once a blessing and a curse.
create the story of the beggar boy
who solved the seven deadly sins but did not know the next stage of love.
to a distant reader
why how what is good order for introduction.
why is because have no other way of communicating with millions of friends who i would have liked to make, no other way to share my short life with many friends.
because from the age in which i wrote, this was the only way to reach you. you, the children of the future, might find it hard to understand how it was in these days. but i shall try to call a spade a spade, to say things as they were, despite my limitations.
if, in the distant future, this book reads like a story, that's okay. once upon a time it was a true one.
i will not try to influence you by saying how unique or different this book is, in fact i will try to explain that this is what many others have said many times in the past. but it is i who say this to you now, and it is nothing more and nothing less than that.
i lived in a society where many took privilege for granted. they didn't appreciate what bounty they received. so many people in these days would say i led a quiet and humble lifestyle, but i know that in my own understanding it was extravagant and wasteful. how could both opinions be true? it is because while i did live a simple life by the standards of the day, it was a standard that was wasteful of the earth's resources nonetheless. perhaps not as wasteful as others of the day, but compared to others still to come. i am sure you are far more prudent.
so what could i say to you that you haven't already learned about the age in which i lived? i can only tell you what i sensed with my own senses. to those who do not read this i may not be able to reach, but to those who do in the future and distant future, i hope you will understand my yearning for a world which to you of the future might already seem backward and primitive, but that to me of the past seems an amazing dream of an almost unimaginable future.
dearest reader, i hope you may find that even if we are separated by a gulf of space and time, that we can speak to each other as the best of friends still do.
when your parent or friend sets and feeds a fire which consumes the house, the world, the planet on which you are born and live, what do you do?
there is a story of an island we call easter island, rapanui, that says they cut down the last tree of their small land and thus doomed themselves to their extinction. it may or may not be true, but in this age we find an island with no native trees nor anything but stone remnants of a people who did cut their trees even as the trees dwindled. are you of the future reading this knowing of our extinction too? i hope not, rather that you will be reading a story of how we turned away from an abyss of our own, and prospered.
i was born in a city, called london, the largest of the cities of a kingdom once called great britain, to a mother and a father who had migrated there from the other side of the earth. their migration was unusual in those days but my birth was not unusual at all. yet all this had been made possible — my birth, my parents' migration, the vast city of london, the empire of the kingdom of britain — by a concentrated fuel which came from the earth itself. i speak of fuels we called coal and oil, which, like the trees of easter island, were plentiful once, but now already far, far past the point of no return. not only that, but the humans burning and using these fuels poisoned the air of the world in such a way as to change how the planet absorbed the heat of the sun, and we doomed ourselves and our descendants to lifetimes of drought and flood, famine and pestilence, war and pillage.
citizen of the galaxy
example of good writing is heinlein's citizen of the galaxy
start showing bit of recent history of character to give her shape
some way to force pace of action while showing the abuse we wish to urge against, in this case the auctioneer and slavery, and the abusive aristocrat
show traits of second character by interaction with first
show events which highlight principles the characters hold, like not wanting to mess with memories or respecting other peoples decisions
some reason for limiting the scope of the activities in each section of the book, like being a beggar not allowed to travel out without permission or being stuck in a spaceship
Let’s have a Finnish character in the book as well, it'll be fun! like captain of the sisu and their culture
let circumstances dictate where the character must go next like with mother shaun’s taproom after re patrol are on the lookout
has anthropologist aboard ship to elucidate customs of the sisu people
have an odd disturbing incident happen like mata being sent to another ship
ten years ahead
idea of bathhouse as inn where info exchanged at the bath rather than at a bar; this more suitable to us than bar.
aging of an object to suggest passage of time. e.g. patch of symbol of federation on clothes. Also can mention continuity, how it was passed down, and the worldwide events that happened in the meantime.
arrange story element notes by what they do in the story, i.e. passage of time etc. and then we can piece together the bits we want and polish them.
structure in ithoughts where each idea is linked to relevant previous idea, weave these individual threads together to create tapestry of story
gold Au (aurum)
talking with clarissa macdougall
story idea: children stuck in an endless arcade, where there is no exit — they even have physics lessons and elevators but they lead nowhere but further into the arcade… pushing my wheelchair–bound friend, looking for the exit lifts, starting to suspect the stairs are the only way out, we succeed in going up one flight of stairs but they only lead to another floor of the arcade, and more lifts