We reached an isolated dirt road in rural Saunders county and pulled out the lawn chair, setting up a makeshift nature camp smack dab in the middle of this old dirt road. It seemed like a perfect place to not be bothered by traffic while still being in a somewhat elevated area. The possibilities were two-fold : we could either look out across the rolling hills of a farmer's bean field, where our presence disturbed a distant deer browsing on a facing hillside several hundred yards away, or we could look up and watch the clouds through the open canopy of the surrounding, road side trees.
The deer was a little panicky, even at the considerable distance away from us. And though, at first, I couldn't even make out whether it was just her head with large jutting ears, or a "T-shaped" configuration of brown leaves in the green soybeans surrounding her, the deer eventually moved and convinced me of what I had actually expected it to be. When she decided to move out of the beans and over the ridge of the facing hill, I turned my attention to the littlest entities of our caravan. While the bigger girls gave closer inspection to the trees that marked a windbreak/hedgerow just over the ditch on the east side of our little dirt path "hideaway", the little ones plopped down in a circle near my feet.
I watched Cindy, Peter & Denise sitting with no mind of the powdery dust beneath their butts, for they were preoccupied with "conjuring" something up, to play with. All three were sitting "just out in front" and to my right side as I kicked back and rested in the lawn chair holding a bottle of water for a few sips on this fairly warm afternoon. My "fold-open" chair was set up just in front of the parked truck, driver's side headlight, so I could see any approaching traffic at a fair distance - if such were to interrupt this pleasant and peaceful atmosphere of a neglected dirt road out in the middle of nowhere.
But, by now, I could also watch the little ones pulling a little manifested ducky with a string and wheels, back and forth between them. They would hand the string off to one another and take turns completing the invisible path "little ducky" was rolling along. I could tell that they were quite absorbed in what they were doing, and I could also, almost hear the quacking and creaking the little toy was sure to be making with its "astrally" built-in features.
Eventually, Nicole came over and started a brief conversation. She informed me that the vibe was practically like a "KeymoTrek" excursion. But, almost as if "on cue", Noellen gets both of our attentions. She's standing across the road between three objects she proclaims to be "jet skis of the air".
Nicole turns and abruptly runs over to be with Noellen and the vehicles, which in my mind's eye are seen to be parked beside each other in the shade of the grassy mound between road and ditch. I could see both girls' excitement building, as Noellen says, "technically, these are 'velocilators'", then she adds that the sky was perfect today for a game of cloud tag. At that, I looked up and began to notice the clouds moving from the southeast to the northwest in a slow progression of variously convoluted shapes. They were "fair weather cumulus" - the type that are small enough to be widely dispersed across the "nearer" range of view, fluffy enough to make robust shapes, and dense enough to be well pronounced against the backdrop of one of those "paler blue skies" of late summer when the humidity is still prevalent in the high reaches of the atmosphere.
After a few moments of cloud watching, I looked to Cindy, Peter and Denise again. They were still playing with their toy, and I would have expected them to be so immersed in it that they weren't noticing me at all, if it weren't for Cindy looking up for barely a moment just to say, "go ahead daddy; we're good here." A glance to my right, and further behind the youngest three, I could also notice Angelica brushing my attention away with the back of her hands, and giving me a reassuring smile, while Cerise appeared to be making some documentation as to our "whereabouts". I figured the note taking was to bring the magic to life once again, at some preordained moment after I've left my physical life. But I quickly dismissed that thought, considering that such events would only occur at some point "even further "down the road" of my days, yet to be traversed.
I left that moment with a smile and turned my gaze across the road, noticing that Nicole and Noellen were still "doting" over the velocilators. I can't help it but to broaden my smile even more, for I know how fond they are of speed and movement and "all things related to speed and movement". After all, Nicole is quite the little landloper on the back roads of virtually every planet in the Keymo system, and Noellen pilots a spirit ship between all of them with just as much fervor as her compatriot and sister-spirit. These two are about as close as sister-friends can get, and I am always in admiration of how absorbed they can be, in just talking about the various "heavenly" craft they have been able to navigate. But I also know their history together goes way back to Androita. That was a huge pyramid, but its fragile vibration still had to be protected from "unaffiliated" human contamination while they awaited their own lords' "age of enlightenment" to draw near. For centuries, as the world population increased and various mariners drifted into their proximity, many a reconnaissance mission occurred for deflecting unwanted attentions. It was certainly no secret that those exercises had contributed dramatically to the girls' piloting skills.
As I lent my full attention to Nicole, Noellen, and the three vehicles they stood between, Noellen couldn't contain herself any longer. She blurts out, "So, the game is called cloud tag. The objective is to fly up and pick a cloud to be the obstacle. First one to the cloud of their choice gets to be "It", and the other two have to tag the leader. But this has to be done without stirring up or penetrating the white fluff. That means; we can't disturb nature's shaping of the cloud at all while we chase around it - except only by our "velocity". That's why they're called, "velocilators" - and that's the tricky part.
Because we're moving around the cloud, so fast and so close, we can actually pull vapors out from its shape. So, that means the chasers can't get too close on the cloudy side of the leader - they have to catch up by avoiding the new curling vapors being pulled out behind the leader. We can only fly around, over, beneath, or between all of the clouds "extensions" - even as they keep building up and billowing out. Whoever gets to tag the leader without touching the white, gets to pick their own cloud and become "It", to start the next game. But, if the leader touches the white, they are tagged and have to become a chaser to the first one behind them, and the second one behind gets to choose the next cloud to play the game with. That way everybody has a reason to play.
Noellen hopped on the glistening "burnt orange" ride and shouted; "lets go." Nicole picked the "flaming magenta" machine which left me to place my astral body upon the deep blue one. The girls were already up to the clouds in a flash and I could hear their extended screaming of - "yahoo!" - as it faded off with their distance, even while I was still getting my wits around what to do with my own velocilator. In their haste, they neglected to tell me how to fly the thing.
In the distant air, I could hear the words falling to my ears: "Just think it dad ... And DO IT". The words echoed in my mind, and I dutifully meditated on them while familiarizing myself with the size and shape of this manifested motorized "beast". In the next couple of minutes, I worked on placing my mind on the jet ski and separating it from the lawn chair where I physically sat. It was just a matter of time, but eventually I climbed to the lofty heights. So, it would seem, that a separation of thought processes was the only way to get there.
With the clouds getting closer and the air getting cooler, I wasn't really a chaser at all. Instead, while the girls raced around a particularly interesting cloud (to them, I guess), I was just enjoying the movement and the height. I putted around the cloud visualizing both it and my straddling of a "jet-ski-like" instrument, not really worried about interfering with the game. I knew the girls were far too agile for me to be of any problem to their navigational abilities, so I focused more on what being in close proximity to a "mansion sized" cloud was like.
I could see the wispy tendrils stirring about and spiraling into new contortions. Yet, out of respect for the game, I felt myself in a constant state of trying to avoid touching the white gossamer appendages that always seemed to be swelling and expanding outward towards me. Though the movement and the shapes of every little aspect of a cloud were indulging, I seemed to be in a constant sensation of "backing up" from the cloud surface, no matter where I would stop and pause for observation. It was mesmerizing to consider what invisible forces of nature were actually compelling any particular formation, and overall, it seemed the cloud itself, wanted to make contact with me.
In a moment of futile evasion, I finally let the translucent "whiteness" lick my finger tips. In another moment, my whole palm was extended and in contact with the mist. Soon, I was "brushing" the cloud with the back of my hand; stroking it as if it were the fur of some docile and disinterested pet. Though the air was already cool around me, I felt the temperature drop considerably more while immersed within the object composed of no "really distinguishable stuff" except for its complexion. It was a pleasant coolness; somewhat damp, yet soft and inviting.
I was about to let my whole being just drift slowly into the haze, when Nicole's voice burst forth from behind me; "You touched it ! That makes you, 'IT'."
Her voice yanked me out of my reverie, and without thinking I retorted; "but that's not the rules of the game..."
To which the both of them chimed in saying; "...for you we'll make an exception."
Well; as the "good sport" that I am, I launched myself forward through a canyon in the cloud that I just realized was there. It had conveniently been made by the rising of two vertical pillars on either side of the spot where I had been pondering its texture.
So for the next few timeless moments of this beautiful last day of August, we continued to fly around, over, beneath, or between all of the clouds "extensions" - until we realized the clouds were migrating further and further away from where the truck remained parked on the dirt road beneath the sky. The game eventually had to come to an end, and I had to return my little entourage back home for another day. It was another activity for the annals of this lord, to be put to rest for another adventure, at another time, and in another place, at some point "even further "down the road" of my days, yet to be traversed...
The deer was a little panicky, even at the considerable distance away from us. And though, at first, I couldn't even make out whether it was just her head with large jutting ears, or a "T-shaped" configuration of brown leaves in the green soybeans surrounding her, the deer eventually moved and convinced me of what I had actually expected it to be. When she decided to move out of the beans and over the ridge of the facing hill, I turned my attention to the littlest entities of our caravan. While the bigger girls gave closer inspection to the trees that marked a windbreak/hedgerow just over the ditch on the east side of our little dirt path "hideaway", the little ones plopped down in a circle near my feet.
I watched Cindy, Peter & Denise sitting with no mind of the powdery dust beneath their butts, for they were preoccupied with "conjuring" something up, to play with. All three were sitting "just out in front" and to my right side as I kicked back and rested in the lawn chair holding a bottle of water for a few sips on this fairly warm afternoon. My "fold-open" chair was set up just in front of the parked truck, driver's side headlight, so I could see any approaching traffic at a fair distance - if such were to interrupt this pleasant and peaceful atmosphere of a neglected dirt road out in the middle of nowhere.
But, by now, I could also watch the little ones pulling a little manifested ducky with a string and wheels, back and forth between them. They would hand the string off to one another and take turns completing the invisible path "little ducky" was rolling along. I could tell that they were quite absorbed in what they were doing, and I could also, almost hear the quacking and creaking the little toy was sure to be making with its "astrally" built-in features.
Eventually, Nicole came over and started a brief conversation. She informed me that the vibe was practically like a "KeymoTrek" excursion. But, almost as if "on cue", Noellen gets both of our attentions. She's standing across the road between three objects she proclaims to be "jet skis of the air".
Nicole turns and abruptly runs over to be with Noellen and the vehicles, which in my mind's eye are seen to be parked beside each other in the shade of the grassy mound between road and ditch. I could see both girls' excitement building, as Noellen says, "technically, these are 'velocilators'", then she adds that the sky was perfect today for a game of cloud tag. At that, I looked up and began to notice the clouds moving from the southeast to the northwest in a slow progression of variously convoluted shapes. They were "fair weather cumulus" - the type that are small enough to be widely dispersed across the "nearer" range of view, fluffy enough to make robust shapes, and dense enough to be well pronounced against the backdrop of one of those "paler blue skies" of late summer when the humidity is still prevalent in the high reaches of the atmosphere.
After a few moments of cloud watching, I looked to Cindy, Peter and Denise again. They were still playing with their toy, and I would have expected them to be so immersed in it that they weren't noticing me at all, if it weren't for Cindy looking up for barely a moment just to say, "go ahead daddy; we're good here." A glance to my right, and further behind the youngest three, I could also notice Angelica brushing my attention away with the back of her hands, and giving me a reassuring smile, while Cerise appeared to be making some documentation as to our "whereabouts". I figured the note taking was to bring the magic to life once again, at some preordained moment after I've left my physical life. But I quickly dismissed that thought, considering that such events would only occur at some point "even further "down the road" of my days, yet to be traversed.
I left that moment with a smile and turned my gaze across the road, noticing that Nicole and Noellen were still "doting" over the velocilators. I can't help it but to broaden my smile even more, for I know how fond they are of speed and movement and "all things related to speed and movement". After all, Nicole is quite the little landloper on the back roads of virtually every planet in the Keymo system, and Noellen pilots a spirit ship between all of them with just as much fervor as her compatriot and sister-spirit. These two are about as close as sister-friends can get, and I am always in admiration of how absorbed they can be, in just talking about the various "heavenly" craft they have been able to navigate. But I also know their history together goes way back to Androita. That was a huge pyramid, but its fragile vibration still had to be protected from "unaffiliated" human contamination while they awaited their own lords' "age of enlightenment" to draw near. For centuries, as the world population increased and various mariners drifted into their proximity, many a reconnaissance mission occurred for deflecting unwanted attentions. It was certainly no secret that those exercises had contributed dramatically to the girls' piloting skills.
As I lent my full attention to Nicole, Noellen, and the three vehicles they stood between, Noellen couldn't contain herself any longer. She blurts out, "So, the game is called cloud tag. The objective is to fly up and pick a cloud to be the obstacle. First one to the cloud of their choice gets to be "It", and the other two have to tag the leader. But this has to be done without stirring up or penetrating the white fluff. That means; we can't disturb nature's shaping of the cloud at all while we chase around it - except only by our "velocity". That's why they're called, "velocilators" - and that's the tricky part.
Because we're moving around the cloud, so fast and so close, we can actually pull vapors out from its shape. So, that means the chasers can't get too close on the cloudy side of the leader - they have to catch up by avoiding the new curling vapors being pulled out behind the leader. We can only fly around, over, beneath, or between all of the clouds "extensions" - even as they keep building up and billowing out. Whoever gets to tag the leader without touching the white, gets to pick their own cloud and become "It", to start the next game. But, if the leader touches the white, they are tagged and have to become a chaser to the first one behind them, and the second one behind gets to choose the next cloud to play the game with. That way everybody has a reason to play.
Noellen hopped on the glistening "burnt orange" ride and shouted; "lets go." Nicole picked the "flaming magenta" machine which left me to place my astral body upon the deep blue one. The girls were already up to the clouds in a flash and I could hear their extended screaming of - "yahoo!" - as it faded off with their distance, even while I was still getting my wits around what to do with my own velocilator. In their haste, they neglected to tell me how to fly the thing.
In the distant air, I could hear the words falling to my ears: "Just think it dad ... And DO IT". The words echoed in my mind, and I dutifully meditated on them while familiarizing myself with the size and shape of this manifested motorized "beast". In the next couple of minutes, I worked on placing my mind on the jet ski and separating it from the lawn chair where I physically sat. It was just a matter of time, but eventually I climbed to the lofty heights. So, it would seem, that a separation of thought processes was the only way to get there.
With the clouds getting closer and the air getting cooler, I wasn't really a chaser at all. Instead, while the girls raced around a particularly interesting cloud (to them, I guess), I was just enjoying the movement and the height. I putted around the cloud visualizing both it and my straddling of a "jet-ski-like" instrument, not really worried about interfering with the game. I knew the girls were far too agile for me to be of any problem to their navigational abilities, so I focused more on what being in close proximity to a "mansion sized" cloud was like.
I could see the wispy tendrils stirring about and spiraling into new contortions. Yet, out of respect for the game, I felt myself in a constant state of trying to avoid touching the white gossamer appendages that always seemed to be swelling and expanding outward towards me. Though the movement and the shapes of every little aspect of a cloud were indulging, I seemed to be in a constant sensation of "backing up" from the cloud surface, no matter where I would stop and pause for observation. It was mesmerizing to consider what invisible forces of nature were actually compelling any particular formation, and overall, it seemed the cloud itself, wanted to make contact with me.
In a moment of futile evasion, I finally let the translucent "whiteness" lick my finger tips. In another moment, my whole palm was extended and in contact with the mist. Soon, I was "brushing" the cloud with the back of my hand; stroking it as if it were the fur of some docile and disinterested pet. Though the air was already cool around me, I felt the temperature drop considerably more while immersed within the object composed of no "really distinguishable stuff" except for its complexion. It was a pleasant coolness; somewhat damp, yet soft and inviting.
I was about to let my whole being just drift slowly into the haze, when Nicole's voice burst forth from behind me; "You touched it ! That makes you, 'IT'."
Her voice yanked me out of my reverie, and without thinking I retorted; "but that's not the rules of the game..."
To which the both of them chimed in saying; "...for you we'll make an exception."
Well; as the "good sport" that I am, I launched myself forward through a canyon in the cloud that I just realized was there. It had conveniently been made by the rising of two vertical pillars on either side of the spot where I had been pondering its texture.
So for the next few timeless moments of this beautiful last day of August, we continued to fly around, over, beneath, or between all of the clouds "extensions" - until we realized the clouds were migrating further and further away from where the truck remained parked on the dirt road beneath the sky. The game eventually had to come to an end, and I had to return my little entourage back home for another day. It was another activity for the annals of this lord, to be put to rest for another adventure, at another time, and in another place, at some point "even further "down the road" of my days, yet to be traversed...