Difference between revisions of "Tracker: Notebook 2024"

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Leshet glanced around and murmured, "It's good to be home."
 
Leshet glanced around and murmured, "It's good to be home."
 +
 +
== Prose, July 2024 ==
 +
 +
=== 7/19/24 ===
 +
 +
Kharshtha Ahima-kiyoni had been coming to every annual clans gathering since before he could remember. After all, his parents weren't the kind of people to turn down an opportunity to meet new people, form new social connections, nor when he was still a small child, from suggesting he do the same.
 +
 +
"Put down the book, dear child," his mother tucked her fingers into Ahima's hair and kissed the top of his head. "Go find someone to play with."
 +
 +
He was still small and young, but his mother's touch wasn't such a casual thing, for all he could sense the affection in it. He knew she was looping some thread of sensation she could detect and he could not that would alert her should he be in any kind of trouble at all.
 +
 +
There was no point in arguing. He set the book aside and wrapped it safely under his blanket, then went out into the encampment of his mother's clan, Doscht.
 +
 +
It was a sea of people, full of currents and tides that left him feeling dizzy as he turned this way and that, seeking some quiet eddy to settle in. There were none readily at hand. Certainly, there were groups of children playing in the open spaces where fires and tables were located between tents and pavilions, but they seemed no less hectic. He wondered which of the trees in sight might be safe to climb.
 +
 +
That was when a little boy appeared directly in front of him, dirty-faced and grinning and shorter than Ahima was, dark eyes seeming bright with friendliness. "Want to play?"
 +
 +
Ahima went still, his heartbeat thudding a little too intensely in his chest.
 +
 +
The little boy tapped his chest. "I'm Irya."
 +
 +
"Oh." Ahima forced his body to relax. "Ahima. What do you want to play?"
 +
 +
The grin came back and Irya pointed a good ways away from the crowd. "There's a good spot up there on the bridge."
 +
 +
The bridge had traffic, but it wasn't crowded the way the encampment was. Barely had he thought it, and Irya took him by the hand and Ahima found himself tugged insistently in that direction. It was an odd feeling, not as unpleasant as when his father held his shoulder and told him to say hello to his uncles and aunts and cousins, nor was it quite as inconsiderate of his own desires as his mother's admonitions to play, to talk to his classmates, and to participate in the neighborhood performance events.
 +
 +
Irya took him to the top of the bridge down the pedestrian walkway, a broad strip of paved stone with a tall fence between it and the vehicular lanes and a strip of grass, shrubs, and the occasional tree between it and the railing that looked down over the Stone's Heart River.
 +
 +
"I fished up here once with my dad," Irya told him, promptly climbing a tree, but keeping his knees below the railing, giving it a good side-eye for a moment.
 +
 +
Ahima chuckled to himself, certain Irya's mother had made the rule. "Do you have a pole?"
 +
 +
"Nope." Irya picked a fistful of late nuts off the tree, then shimmied back down, and looked pointedly at Ahima's hands. "Next time," Irya said.
 +
 +
Ahima held up his hands. Irya counted out half the nuts.
 +
 +
They didn't do anything rambunctious that boys their age were expected to. They sat down at the foot of the tree, pounded open nuts with a rock, much to Irya's dismay whenever Ahima actually smashed one to dust, then tossed rocks in the river and took turns climbing up other trees and shooting shells at each other.
 +
 +
A bright horn sounded over the splashing river below as the light began to turn a dusky blue. Irya grimaced. "We should head back."
 +
 +
Ahima nodded but stayed up in the branches a moment longer, straining to see the small boat come into view from which the horn was sounding. "It sounds like my grandfather bellowing in the evening."
 +
 +
Irya giggled. "Don't worry. I won't tell him."
 +
 +
Ahima would have been lost getting back, but Irya grabbed his hand once they were both on the ground and dove through the crowds wending their way back to campsites, ducking and dragging Ahima with him below the arms of adults, and squeezing between people that probably really hadn't left enough room. It was fun, in a way. Like Ahima and Irya were in their own world. Then Irya deposited him right where he'd found him and waved cheerily before he darted away into the stream of people, like a bright little sunfish in the water.
 +
 +
"Who was that?" Ahima's mother asked before he'd even ducked under the tent flap.
 +
 +
"A friend," Ahima answered without thinking, before he suddenly thought better of it.
 +
 +
But his father patted his head and his mother smiled, and he packed away the unpleasant feeling it gave him before they sat down to eat.
 +
 +
<hr>
 +
 +
Irya found him the next morning. Ahima certainly wouldn't have been able to return the favor.
 +
 +
But he couldn't help but laugh. "Are you ever clean?" Ahima asked.
 +
 +
Irya scoffed. "I'm playing. What's the point of coming to gathering early if you don't look around a bit?"
 +
 +
It was true that the swearing ceremonies weren't until tomorrow, but Ahima hadn't ever thought about it. What was there to look at? He glanced around at the rousing families, so many of them with tasks and errands and plans, like a rising tide of the sea. Ahima didn't hate the sea, but he didn't understand it. It overwhelmed him.
 +
 +
"I suppose so," he said.
 +
 +
Irya cocked his head, looking puzzled, but sat down and helped himself to a bite of fruit off Ahima's plate.
 +
 +
"Rude," Ahima commented without heat.
 +
 +
"I fed you first." Irya grinned and handed Ahima a roll, still warm and soft.
 +
 +
"Ah, so is this your friend?" Ahima's mother's voice had always been lovely, soft and warm and friendly. Ahima stiffened at the sound of it.
 +
 +
Irya waved, cheery tilt to his mouth. "I'm Tsadirya-kolos," he announced and dipped his head respectfully.
 +
 +
"It's very nice to meet you," she replied, still warmly. "Are you neighbors with us?" A slight gesture toward the campsites nearby.
 +
 +
He shook his head. "I'm from Ginieng. May I please have some of that?" he asked, giving an appraising look at the non-empty fruit platter they were serving breakfast from.
 +
 +
"Of course." Ahima's mother smiled, but he knew she was a little startled by Irya's statement. Taannongar wasn't exactly adjacent to Doscht's clan land allotment. "Your parents let you wander a great deal, do they?"
 +
 +
Irya swallowed down far too big a bite to clear his mouth to answer. "Yes, ma'am. May I please take Ahima to go play?"
 +
 +
Ahima was surprised at how sparse the answer was, but true to form, she gave her permission, and Irya dragged Ahima off, this time past the bounds of their encampment area and into a small park where Ahima knew they'd broadcast the ceremonies tomorrow but didn't allow camping. It was relatively quiet today, the roaring sea of humanity across a rather broad thoroughfare.
 +
 +
Ahima wasn't entirely certain why Irya had brought him, but he appreciated the quiet as they played tag and chase and how far can you throw it without anybody else bothering them. Visitors would wander through but in small quantities and easily avoidable. Irya finagled a band name out of Ahima, "So I can send you a letter?" "A public letter?" Ahima asked, horrified, and gave him his exact address. "Those are more expensive," Irya complained but Ahima just dug around in his pockets for extra solgu to give him.
 +
 +
Irya laughed and waved him off. "No, I can't take your money. But you better write back. Especially if I'm paying for private."
 +
 +
"Sure," Ahima promised without knowing why entirely. Irya was fun, but they hardly knew each other. "Why did you come over to Doschtongar?" he asked after a long moment.
 +
 +
Irya blinked, screwing up his mouth thoughtfully, then, "I'd like to see the territories someday. All of them. I figure until I can, I want to people from them."
 +
 +
It wasn't what Ahima had expected, he realized suddenly. He'd had some sort of expectation. He sat down next to Irya. "They're all people, just like each other." He'd seen a lot of the territories so far.
 +
 +
But Irya shrugged. "But all people are different."
 +
 +
And Ahima really wasn't sure what to make of that.
 +
 +
<hr>
 +
 +
He found his book safely under the blanket and read until his father snuffed out the light on them. It was a story about a little boy who always seemed to know just what to say, just what to do–with the grumpy turtle who could help him cross the stream, and the conniving fox who could guide him through the dark forest, and the powerful tiger who could lead him home over the mountain. And in the end, he went home.
 +
 +
"I'm glad you found a friend," his mother said before Ahima fell asleep.
 +
 +
<hr>
 +
 +
Ahima was ten the first time his parents were going to visit one of his friends. He tucked himself against the window of the rotorcraft and looked out at the green and golden fields below, the patches of dark where water flowed. He liked the roar of the blades drowning out their conversation. He liked the feeling of all that expanse to get lost in, where nothing else seemed to matter until it was time to set down on the earth again.
 +
 +
Irya's family lived far up the mountains in Ginieng. Ahima had looked it up when he got home in the great big encyclopedia his parents kept on the lower bookshelves, and traced fingers over the map. He'd been surprised they had their own platforms, but they could fly right there without having to stop in the northern valley and drive up.

Revision as of 16:02, 19 July 2024


Poetry, May 2024

5/9/24

find your wings (poem)

One of those things:
look around
maybe breathe

Don't forget to find your wings:
spread them hard
fly, believe


Talent (poem)

The things that work
Can often be so easily forgot
The things that work
So easily are things that can't be taught
Talents granted
From the King
By heaven, they were bought
Then graciously Were given to me Without my having sought

Road (poem)

Been a while
I know
Been a terrible road
The things that you don't know
Before you're called to go

hard (poem)

Is it that hard
to speak in a rhythm
in a rhyme
with a boom
with a bang

Is it that hard
to feel in a prism
with a sigh
with a laugh
with a pang

Is it that hard
to fall in a chasm
in the air
do not care
'til I'm there

Is it that hard
to turn like a schism
hand on stone
from the bone
don't let go

planting (poem)

wisdom is the color of my heart
as I want it to be
so I'll plant my sight on wisdom
until I am a tree

The Presence (poem)

Joy is in the presence of the Lord
Where is it I'm living, by that word?
Where am I, adrift on endless clouds
When this painful living gets too loud?
Ah, find me, Spirit! Find me, Prince of Peace
Make this inner chaos finally cease
I praise You: may I enter at the gates
And finally find the joy in Your embrace?

Eye Be Single (poem)

Find a song in my heart
And a light on my steps
My eyes towards the heavens
To see what is next

5/13/24

Brightness Arrayed (poem)

Ah, another grand day!
My eyes see the light, I pray
That my heart is also swayed
By the brightness now arrayed
Before my waking face
When I look toward Your grace

me (poem)

awkward, sometimes
it would be nice to be
another person
yet still me

may happiness (poem)

may happiness precede and follow you
and always walk with you
may the rains shower on you
and bring new life to you
may the sun shine brightly
and the moon glow nightly
lighting your way
for you I will pray

5/30/24

abloom (poem)

happiness
I close my eyes
brace my soul
I feel the light
I open hands
my heart abloom
cleanse my spirit
and make room

ever calling (poem)

sometimes we forget the important things
perhaps drift from our roots or lose our wings
and yet a Voice e'er calling before us sings
look to me! it cries, from darkness brings

Poetry, June 2024

6/9/24

before my eyes (poem)

endless ages pass
the flicker of eternal streams
that which waking lies
before my eyes and in dreams
all the visions cast
upon my canvas mind
held until they last
shining in my sight


Your Path (poem)

God of my fathers, my mothers, my friends
Who held me and kept me, beginning to end
Be with me now as I go 'round this bend
Your path before me, I trust You will mend


Poetry, July 2024

7/18/24

Where Sunlight (poem)

Good morning where the sunlight grows
From solemn dark to bright shining day
And over the hours, my awareness flows
Of glorious Love: I start to pray
To Him who made my every step
And all this earthly loveliness!

Prose, May 2024

5/9/24

Focus on God Who Bears our Burdens

From the Old Testament to the New, God promises to bear our burdens, if we will just come to Him.

"Blessed be the Lord God, who daily bears our burdens, God who is our salvation." – Psalm 68:19 NJV (verify)

"Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." – Matthew 11:28 NKJV

"Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in due time, casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you." – I Peter 5:6-7 NKJV

Every day, when the sorrows of this world press down upon me, when I'm missing the loved ones I have lost, when my failures and mistakes weigh on me, I have such a tendency to berate myself or struggle under the weary heaviness of it all, forgetting that these are burdens! All I need do is come to Him. I can cast away my burdens and give them into His hands, and He will care for me and give me rest.

It is so often my heart that is my greatest burden, every time my humanity or this world in all its imperfections seems to much to bear. But God promises His strength in our weakness and His peace in our hearts.

"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." – Philippians 4:2 NKJV

5/13/24

Notes on Worldbuilding: World-Growing

Worldbuilding appears to be much like conlanging. Before one goes making up a wild new detail, perhaps one ought to revisit the material already present and "grow" a new detail. In the case of developing modern banking, for example, one should look at the original methods of long-distance trade and commerce one has already developed and determine how this people would solve that problem, rather than turning solely to how Earth peoples have.

Prose, June 2024

6/2/24

They crossed Wa Shioke on the Lihuela-tsau Road, then turned seaward at the Iiyetretha Passage. Irya was a little surprised that they chose to walk the entire way, a twelve-day journey on foot, but said nothing about it, taking his turns to gather wood for evening fires and putting on food at the regular encampments. Truthfully, he hadn't taken this way before, and he wondered a little at taking it now.

Leshet lived up to her name, quiet and explaining little. Her husband Kosye told barracks stories, interesting tidbits of deployments aimed at enlivening dinner rather than revealing information. Irya too told stories and picked out images from the stars and didn't talk about the coastline ahead, altogether too verdant for winter.

Leshet caught him looking at it once. "When he does act," she said quietly, "he never does it by halves."

Irya considered that point for a long moment. "He who holds power over life and death?"

"Yes."

It was enough to realize that Leshet had encountered the high one before the events of the black rain. He considered asking her about it, but let the moment linger perhaps too long. She was nodding a goodnight and ducking into her tent.

They reached the Alhaies plain on the thirteenth day toward the end of the sun watch of the morning, approaching noon. The grassy fields were distinct from the farmland beyond them, a soil more crumbly and dry and less suited to growing crops. Instead, comfortably-sized homes were scattered across the plain, each perhaps twenty claws or so apart, and a winding dirt road darted and wove between them.

Leshet's was somewhere toward the middle of the plain. They passed under a copse of evergreen trees, their needles still hugging shivers of frost, though the dragon's breath winds had melted the rest off the ground. A garden sat in the front of the house, seeming properly winterized. He wondered if she paid a helper to maintain it when she was deployed. They passed between the northern and southern sections of the garden up the little cobbled walk to her front door, and she let them in to a surprisingly and pleasantly warm front entry.

"Shoes off," Kosye commented as he put his own boots against the wall.

Leshet glanced around and murmured, "It's good to be home."

Prose, July 2024

7/19/24

Kharshtha Ahima-kiyoni had been coming to every annual clans gathering since before he could remember. After all, his parents weren't the kind of people to turn down an opportunity to meet new people, form new social connections, nor when he was still a small child, from suggesting he do the same.

"Put down the book, dear child," his mother tucked her fingers into Ahima's hair and kissed the top of his head. "Go find someone to play with."

He was still small and young, but his mother's touch wasn't such a casual thing, for all he could sense the affection in it. He knew she was looping some thread of sensation she could detect and he could not that would alert her should he be in any kind of trouble at all.

There was no point in arguing. He set the book aside and wrapped it safely under his blanket, then went out into the encampment of his mother's clan, Doscht.

It was a sea of people, full of currents and tides that left him feeling dizzy as he turned this way and that, seeking some quiet eddy to settle in. There were none readily at hand. Certainly, there were groups of children playing in the open spaces where fires and tables were located between tents and pavilions, but they seemed no less hectic. He wondered which of the trees in sight might be safe to climb.

That was when a little boy appeared directly in front of him, dirty-faced and grinning and shorter than Ahima was, dark eyes seeming bright with friendliness. "Want to play?"

Ahima went still, his heartbeat thudding a little too intensely in his chest.

The little boy tapped his chest. "I'm Irya."

"Oh." Ahima forced his body to relax. "Ahima. What do you want to play?"

The grin came back and Irya pointed a good ways away from the crowd. "There's a good spot up there on the bridge."

The bridge had traffic, but it wasn't crowded the way the encampment was. Barely had he thought it, and Irya took him by the hand and Ahima found himself tugged insistently in that direction. It was an odd feeling, not as unpleasant as when his father held his shoulder and told him to say hello to his uncles and aunts and cousins, nor was it quite as inconsiderate of his own desires as his mother's admonitions to play, to talk to his classmates, and to participate in the neighborhood performance events.

Irya took him to the top of the bridge down the pedestrian walkway, a broad strip of paved stone with a tall fence between it and the vehicular lanes and a strip of grass, shrubs, and the occasional tree between it and the railing that looked down over the Stone's Heart River.

"I fished up here once with my dad," Irya told him, promptly climbing a tree, but keeping his knees below the railing, giving it a good side-eye for a moment.

Ahima chuckled to himself, certain Irya's mother had made the rule. "Do you have a pole?"

"Nope." Irya picked a fistful of late nuts off the tree, then shimmied back down, and looked pointedly at Ahima's hands. "Next time," Irya said.

Ahima held up his hands. Irya counted out half the nuts.

They didn't do anything rambunctious that boys their age were expected to. They sat down at the foot of the tree, pounded open nuts with a rock, much to Irya's dismay whenever Ahima actually smashed one to dust, then tossed rocks in the river and took turns climbing up other trees and shooting shells at each other.

A bright horn sounded over the splashing river below as the light began to turn a dusky blue. Irya grimaced. "We should head back."

Ahima nodded but stayed up in the branches a moment longer, straining to see the small boat come into view from which the horn was sounding. "It sounds like my grandfather bellowing in the evening."

Irya giggled. "Don't worry. I won't tell him."

Ahima would have been lost getting back, but Irya grabbed his hand once they were both on the ground and dove through the crowds wending their way back to campsites, ducking and dragging Ahima with him below the arms of adults, and squeezing between people that probably really hadn't left enough room. It was fun, in a way. Like Ahima and Irya were in their own world. Then Irya deposited him right where he'd found him and waved cheerily before he darted away into the stream of people, like a bright little sunfish in the water.

"Who was that?" Ahima's mother asked before he'd even ducked under the tent flap.

"A friend," Ahima answered without thinking, before he suddenly thought better of it.

But his father patted his head and his mother smiled, and he packed away the unpleasant feeling it gave him before they sat down to eat.

Irya found him the next morning. Ahima certainly wouldn't have been able to return the favor.

But he couldn't help but laugh. "Are you ever clean?" Ahima asked.

Irya scoffed. "I'm playing. What's the point of coming to gathering early if you don't look around a bit?"

It was true that the swearing ceremonies weren't until tomorrow, but Ahima hadn't ever thought about it. What was there to look at? He glanced around at the rousing families, so many of them with tasks and errands and plans, like a rising tide of the sea. Ahima didn't hate the sea, but he didn't understand it. It overwhelmed him.

"I suppose so," he said.

Irya cocked his head, looking puzzled, but sat down and helped himself to a bite of fruit off Ahima's plate.

"Rude," Ahima commented without heat.

"I fed you first." Irya grinned and handed Ahima a roll, still warm and soft.

"Ah, so is this your friend?" Ahima's mother's voice had always been lovely, soft and warm and friendly. Ahima stiffened at the sound of it.

Irya waved, cheery tilt to his mouth. "I'm Tsadirya-kolos," he announced and dipped his head respectfully.

"It's very nice to meet you," she replied, still warmly. "Are you neighbors with us?" A slight gesture toward the campsites nearby.

He shook his head. "I'm from Ginieng. May I please have some of that?" he asked, giving an appraising look at the non-empty fruit platter they were serving breakfast from.

"Of course." Ahima's mother smiled, but he knew she was a little startled by Irya's statement. Taannongar wasn't exactly adjacent to Doscht's clan land allotment. "Your parents let you wander a great deal, do they?"

Irya swallowed down far too big a bite to clear his mouth to answer. "Yes, ma'am. May I please take Ahima to go play?"

Ahima was surprised at how sparse the answer was, but true to form, she gave her permission, and Irya dragged Ahima off, this time past the bounds of their encampment area and into a small park where Ahima knew they'd broadcast the ceremonies tomorrow but didn't allow camping. It was relatively quiet today, the roaring sea of humanity across a rather broad thoroughfare.

Ahima wasn't entirely certain why Irya had brought him, but he appreciated the quiet as they played tag and chase and how far can you throw it without anybody else bothering them. Visitors would wander through but in small quantities and easily avoidable. Irya finagled a band name out of Ahima, "So I can send you a letter?" "A public letter?" Ahima asked, horrified, and gave him his exact address. "Those are more expensive," Irya complained but Ahima just dug around in his pockets for extra solgu to give him.

Irya laughed and waved him off. "No, I can't take your money. But you better write back. Especially if I'm paying for private."

"Sure," Ahima promised without knowing why entirely. Irya was fun, but they hardly knew each other. "Why did you come over to Doschtongar?" he asked after a long moment.

Irya blinked, screwing up his mouth thoughtfully, then, "I'd like to see the territories someday. All of them. I figure until I can, I want to people from them."

It wasn't what Ahima had expected, he realized suddenly. He'd had some sort of expectation. He sat down next to Irya. "They're all people, just like each other." He'd seen a lot of the territories so far.

But Irya shrugged. "But all people are different."

And Ahima really wasn't sure what to make of that.

He found his book safely under the blanket and read until his father snuffed out the light on them. It was a story about a little boy who always seemed to know just what to say, just what to do–with the grumpy turtle who could help him cross the stream, and the conniving fox who could guide him through the dark forest, and the powerful tiger who could lead him home over the mountain. And in the end, he went home.

"I'm glad you found a friend," his mother said before Ahima fell asleep.

Ahima was ten the first time his parents were going to visit one of his friends. He tucked himself against the window of the rotorcraft and looked out at the green and golden fields below, the patches of dark where water flowed. He liked the roar of the blades drowning out their conversation. He liked the feeling of all that expanse to get lost in, where nothing else seemed to matter until it was time to set down on the earth again.

Irya's family lived far up the mountains in Ginieng. Ahima had looked it up when he got home in the great big encyclopedia his parents kept on the lower bookshelves, and traced fingers over the map. He'd been surprised they had their own platforms, but they could fly right there without having to stop in the northern valley and drive up.

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