Mountains and vineyards, burned out steppe where you still can walk onto a stone baba – Neolithic female figure once worshipped by mythic Scythians.  Gentle sandy beaches of Black Sea with its floors still covered with amphorae from Phoenician, Greek and Roman wrecks…

These wrecks lie undisturbed by greedy to artifacts divers.  Smell of wormwood at sunset.  Wailing of turtledoves in green quarters of Yalta and Simferopol.  And grave silence of ancient columns protruding from sandy cliffs.  It is a bit like California, if California would have several millennia of history.  It is almost like California, but no overcrowding, often more a desert, than even a steppe.  It is Crimea, and there is much more to it, but... 

I never miss a chance to point out at strange occurrences which some people call coincidences, but those ‘coincidences’ seem are too persistent in their occurrence to be mere coincidences, anyway…
Cognitive Echo is one of the original and most interesting phenomena which I’ve discussed from the start of this blog (see COGNITIVE ECHO OR SYNCHRONICITY; COGNITIVE ECHO II OR HUMMINGBIRD; LILACS OUT OF DEAD BRAIN or COGNITIVE ECHO III ).  This is a kind of phenomena which I believe reveals digital or (if you would prefer) intelligently predetermined structure of our world.  I’ve illustrated it and discussed it through various physical manifestations which occur quite regularly in our lives, but cognitive echo can happen sometimes in quite subtle ways.  Here is an example.

This little piece is about invention of new words and the causes that bring them to the light.  Actually, this is about something entirely different, but, well, you’ll find this out… 

I think that many new words are invented out of a pure ignorance of writers.  This is, of course, a generalization, so maybe it will be fair to put it this way: when I am writing I am ignorant to the point of invention of new words.  How about that?  I think it is a fair way to say.

I’ll give you an example.  In the process of writing The Leap of Faith I came up with a great word, the word I can relate to, and if you’ve read my books then you know what I mean.  And the word is encagement

I have a scary observation to report.  It’s in the #nature.  Our Southern summers were always abundant on insects, even overabundant.  Not now, though – the world seems like become devoid of our little buzzing buddies (and foes).  What had happened to them? 

April, already ninety Fahrenheit, no rain – here, in Bayboro, April is a summer month.  I am looking around and asking myself: where are they?  Where are our ubiquitous mosquitoes, including this funny tiger bunch, where are ladybugs, where are yellow jackets, where are orange wasps and where are my favorite praying mantises, where they all had gone?  I am looking around and I see none, NONE! 

I was patient and ignored all cognitive echoes which had happened to me since I’ve last time described this phenomenon in the Hummingbird.  Yet another echo had #happened and this time I’ve gave in.  Here is the story. 

I’ve lost a word.  And this was so embarrassing – I’ve lost a pretty common word, not an opisthoproct or cosidoron (those are coming wherever I need them).  It was a good word, a name of that pretty common shrub with purple or white clusters of flowers.  You know what I am talking about? 

I went on a quest for a #monster, and I found one, but it was a monster of a quite different nature than I thought it would be.

I was editing one of my story called “Pink Black Widow”, when I’ve run into a little snag.  I needed to find monsters.  Not monsters with long fangs, sticky tentacles or legs growing out of their heads, but verbal ones.  The culprit word, which sent me on this unusual quest was “decumanus”, a word which plays quite a sinister role in Pink Black Widow.  I was looking for some name which could make a match from a dark and even sinister side of meanings, like “chthonic” or “Tcheralindra”. 

“How Splendid it would be, Agathon, if wisdom was the sort of thing that could flow from the fuller to emptier of us when we touch each other, like water, which flows through a piece of Wool from a fuller cup to an emptier one.” says Socrates inPlato's Symposium [1].
Let’s ignore for a moment the philosopher’s double-entendre which leaves no doubt in the context of the book, and look at the imagery of Socrates’s thought. 

Perhaps, we had enough eschatology discussion, let's talk about something else, like, say, the relativity of truth. Lately this Subject was quite regularly on my mind. What is it coming from? I think, I can tell, but first I would like to take a bit longer look at it.

While I was writing my little entries on physics of ghosts, some peculiar ghost decided to visit me.  Yet, I am still in doubt: was it really a hairy eidolon or just my imagination?

The first time it come up to my view was about six months ago.  I had no idea how it had gotten there – under the glass, right across the face of the dial was a light bristle, like those which grow on my wrists.  I admit, I have a plenty of those bristles outside the watch, but this one got inside.  How this could happen?  I had no idea.  The only thing that I could guess was that it was already there, when I had acquired this second hand timepiece.  I just didn’t notice its presence for about a year and a half

I thought that I will finish my Book 4 and will be done with Bayboro Chronicles.  Now I have five books.  I thought I’ll grow large leathery wings and fly away.  But my shoulder blades remain smooth like a baby face.  So I keep walking.  I thought that I am finishing my discussion of #physics of #ghosts.  I hope I do, I ought to change the subject to something new.

Our unorthodox discussion of physics of ghosts was finished with something that I call Catoptric Paradox (see PHYSICS OF GHOSTS 101: PART SIX and two preceding posts).  So, is it all just a projection?