A soundless crack?

Will the sound of a crack occur, when a tree branch is broken by the wind in a deserted forest – without the presence of a living sentient being?

A question asked from time to time and might thought as a philosophical one of the kind. Until now I have not been able to find anyone attempting an answer.

My preliminary conclusion is that no audible sound occurs without the presence of a sentient being.

Whilst the branch is breaking, certain forms of discharging emerge, e.g. sound waves spreading out in all directions.

Different kinds of signals are also sent from a transmitting station broadcasting television, but nobody sees or hears them. Practically spoken the signals are almost everywhere and more invisible than ghosts.

If you receive the signals from a TV, turned on and tuned in correctly, the weather forecast with colors and sounds shows up, for example. For the TV, the signals have a meaning, it translates them and make them come alive, so to speak.

Should a human being approach the place in which the branch cracked, while it cracked, he would, accordingly to the distance of the event, hear more or less of the cracking sound. Immediately he might think that the cracking sound was really there, on the spot of localisation. In reality it is not the sound itself, but the waves making him capable of hearing it. The sense organs converting the vibrations into audible experiences.

The sound is a “self-made” product. He does not create it intentionally, rather it arises from a place within the dwelling of consciousness and the nature of senses, awakening the sound.

Mrs. Crystle Claire

When it began, she was pretty worried, perhaps mostly because it was totally unexpected, but also because it heralded uncomfortable and reduced opportunities in the future. She had always perceived everything razor crystal clear, so it was like getting a wet rag in the face when the details began to blur. Sharp detail was glorious and, until then, obvious, but now they disappeared almost melted away so only the overall impression, the main lines, being revealed. It was much better than nothing, but it was not plain sailing getting used to.

One day it dawned on her that it revealed new opportunities. For something she had not been aware of before, began to take shape: Major lines. New contours appearing, contours that had always been there but had remained more or less inaccessible to attention, because of the occupation of the detail’s seductive dance.

A goddess from Valhalla, an Asynje, who we will not identify specific, appeared and told her that it was a mixture of punishment and gift she had received. Fixation, due to the impressive crystal clarity of detail, she repeatedly had stumbled in, had triggered some negative responses. But because her intentions had always been the best, the contours, which now appeared, would reveal new and more important areas to explore.

“You have no idea what’s in store,” said the Asynje, “don’t worry be happy and strong, gentle, brave, patient, grateful and inquiring. Now focus on the larger contours. Completely new chapters are waiting on the next pages of “the main contours book,” and this book gets better, better and better the further you get into it.”

“That’s how it sometimes works, Mrs. Crystle Claire,” she continued, “and now I can see that the beautiful rainbow “Bifrost” becomes available, but I guess I can reach to tell you, before I slip up again, that this book is never ending.”

A summer night dream

Aphrodite is hot on getting a warm relationship with Aurora's brother and wonders how she will seduce him. She was recently divorced from Hephaestus, after having had a sinful relationship with Ares. A relationship which was discovered and they were caught red-handed. That was the last straw for Hephaestus. Aphrodite bears no grudge because of being discovered, and she is sure to be married to Ares, as he has wooed very thoroughly several times. But her blood pulses lively, to say it the least, and the sun's abilities as a lover should be tested before she marries, albeit informally, with Ares, which by the way is a really nice looking guy.

This evening and night will be spent at the beach, the weather is mild, and it feels as if all of Aurora's sons are on holiday. There is namely hardly a wind that moves, and Aurora's sister is not on the sky. Otherwise she could have entertained Aphrodite and helping to forge her wiles. But tomorrow morning will Aurora get up and roll a golden carpet in front of her and over the sea directly towards Aphrodite. Then they can get a female chat, and Aphrodite knows Aurora so well that she is confident in getting her help to meeting the brother personally. Aurora has also a bit of Aphrodite's nature, so amorous considerations are quite exciting for both of them.

"It looks like Aurora Polaris is warming up," thought Aphrodite, when she sensed some etheric green waves in the air over the ocean. "If she comes close enough, I can probably get a valuable conversation with her. She grapples still sometimes with Ymer’s dead body that she didn’t have the heart to bury. I have her, however, suspected of being ensnared by his gaze more than his body in general because of the way he looked at her when he was alive. Otherwise she would probably not have asked the Aesir to build this beautiful, undulating fence in the sky, using his eyelashes. She always says that the fence was built exclusively to protect the people against the giants, but excuses I no longer find difficult to figure out. The Aesir are strange, I think. We others are more exotic."

"I wonder if the sun is thinking of me right now." She felt it crawled in her body at the mere thought. "Aurora renews herself happily every morning, although her dozy husband, Tithonus, is aging forever. Yes, that's what can happen when you wish for eternal youth and forget to take all the precautions such things require." 

"Well it's not me, because though everyone says that I’m eternally young, I know as well that it’s often just something people say because I'm not a youngster more but anyway still looks fantastically good from any angle. If I’m allowed to feel my heart melt again when the sun takes me in his arms, I should not complain. Then I get the energy to be a good wife to Ares, and then I will make more of comfort than I normally do, and I will also learn how to make a solid meal, so Ares can get some comfortable decades before he goes, god knows where. I think not many people know about that. Zeus will not talk about it, but I've realized that there are more things between heaven and earth than even gods and goddesses can understand. But tomorrow is “A New Dawn,” as the Danish king, Valdemar Atterdag, recently used to say, a little more than a handful of centuries ago, as I remember."

Tulipaner.

Blomsterne stod, sådan lidt til en side,

røde og gule men ingen hvide.

Med grønne stængler og saftige blade,

lyste de op bag den gamle lade.

Som jomfruer mildner anstrengte sind,

så presset svækkes, og lyset når ind.

Men nu blev en håndfuld skåret fra rødderne,

de fik, så at sige, amputeret fødderne. 

I krukken står de og kommer til hægte,

og mindes tiden, da verden var ægte.

De husker endnu, de var fæstnet i muld,

og hvisker, at tiden ved laden var guld.

Men bedre endu er at komme i ramme,

så visner man ikke lige med det samme.

Kommer man højt på en væg for at pynte,

er man vel højere, end hvor man begyndte.

Ovenover alting.

De lange skygger trivedes, når lyset stod lavt. De opførte iøjnefaldende danse og gestikulerede om kap, for det gjaldt både om at vinde opmærksomhed, og fastholde den. Opmærksomhed var ren næring for dem, og deres pantomimer viste tydeligt, at de ville gøre næsten hvad som helst for at være i fokus.

At være slørholder var noget, som havde stor status, for det var en kompliceret opgave. Det krævede en lang, næsten håbløs, uddannelse, som måtte vedligeholdes, for tabte man tråden, bare en enkelt gang, måtte man øjeblikkeligt på kursus igen. Og så blev man sendt tilbage til skolen, man var uddannet fra, for at få alle de komplicerede regler genopfrisket. Ellers kunne man jo risikere, at nogle mistede interessen for skyggerne og fik den afskyelige ide at vende sig om. Det måtte undgås for enhver pris, for man risikerede at blive opmærksom på det, som var årsag til, at skyggerne kunne leve, og det ville få ubehagelige og samfundsskadelige konsekvenser.

Slørholdernes arbejde var hårdt, for på den ene side skulle de sørge for at følge det aldrig helt stillestående lys og flytte slørene i overensstemmelse med dets bevægelser, og på den anden side måtte der ikke skærmes mere, end at skyggerne kunne forblive klare og tydelige. Det var et ubehageligt, Sisyfosagtigt dilemma.

Man vidste, hvor galt det kunne gå. Engang var en så uheldig, at der ikke var en slørholder i nærheden, mens lyset stod lodret over ham, og i denne position var der slet ingen skygge overhovedet, så at sige. Han havde undrende kigget først nedad og så opad, og var derved blevet fuldt oplyst.

Så nu tog man, klog af skade, ingen chancer mere. Slørholderen skiftede til kraftigere slør i takt med at lyset kom højere og højere oppefra, og mens næsten ingen skygger var mulige, skulle man lukke øjnene, så man hverken kunne se til højre eller venstre, opad eller nedad, og der blev indført dødsstraf for at åbne øjnene i disse ulyksalige perioder.

Men jo lavere lyskilden stod, jo længere blev skyggerne. Det var der perspektiver i, og det var både logisk og matematisk evident.

Above everything

The long shadows thrived when the light stood low. They performed prominently dance and gestured vigorously, to gain and remain attention, and keep it. Attention was food and vitamins for them and their pantomimes showed clearly that they would do almost anything to remain in focus.

Being a veil-holder was something that had great status, because it was a complicated task. It took a long, almost hopeless, training which had to be maintained, for losing the thread, just once, you had to go immediately on a course again. And then you went back to school, to be trained in order to get all the complicated rules refreshed. Otherwise, they could run the risk of some lost interest in the shadows and got the abominable idea to convert, to turn around. It had to be avoided at all costs, because you risked being aware of, what was the reason why the shadows could have a life, and it would give unpleasant and anti-social consequences.

Veil-holders work was hard, on the one hand, they had to follow the never quite stagnant light and move their veils in line with its movements, and on the other hand, they were not allowed to screen more than the shadows still could remain crisp and clear. It was a nasty, Sisyphus-like dilemma.

They knew how bad it could go. Once upon a time a person had the misfortune that there wasn’t a veil-holder nearby, while the light was directly above him, and in this position, there was no shade at all. He felt strange and looked first down and then up, and received then fully enlightenment.

So now took they wise to injury, no chances more. The veil-holders switched to heavier veils as the lights rose higher and higher above, and while almost no shadows were possible, you had to close your eyes, and nobody was allowed to look right or left, up or down, and they imposed the death penalty for open the eyes while these unfortunate periods took place.

But the lower the light source was situated, the longer the shadows became. There were perspectives in that fact, and it was both logical and mathematically evident.

Adventure from the forest's floor

As it stood there, and in this way would an ordinary person not think that the horse had a life, but just smile about it. If you were a supernatural creature the matter was viewed differently. Then you knew the horse was alive, and a few even knew that it was a good storyteller, although its legs and neck were as thin as matchsticks. But also here one should not manageable dog on the hairs as the pinecone had laid ears to countless adventures from the horse's chestnut-muzzle, and some of them he had heard so many times that he could retell them, and that the elves enjoyed. They loved listening to fairy tales about supernatural creatures and events. It could light up on a weekday, which sometimes might seem a little boring.

"I myself am nothing special," he said, "but I tell you, there is more between tree crowns and roots than we can understand. You can become quite disturbed in your head of fussing too much about it, so I tell only stories about what I know. It gives no headache, but serves as inspiring and soothing vitamins for the body, imagination and soul."

"How do we know that what we know also is what is?" said a little elf as he chewed on a blade of grass.

 "Well, we know this because the chestnut-horse told it, and he has studied gibberish in its basic form, enshrined in ancient leaves from the primeval forest trees."

"But what about evolution?" continued the elf. Everything evolves, and we will hopefully become wiser and wiser, as the seasons change. What was true in the past is surely not necessarily true today."

"Good point. However, one must be careful not to throw the peas out with the pods, because much of the ancient stuff is really wise. It just has not been taken literally, but understood in its essence, otherwise it is not true in our time, but does more harm than good, and then you come with ease to think of an elephant in a china shop. Very different kinds of trees were growing then, just to name an example that not to be taken literally either. In addition, there is a useful rule of thumb: If the story ends, Snip, Snap, Snout, it is trustworthy. Otherwise, you are more or less on the Lord’s Field. Take the huge copper beech over there. It says that we all can fail and it has even so many growth rings that it pinches for the bark reaching around them here and there."

The pinecone stretched so it creaked, spread his arms out and sang with commendable mine: "As long as I live, as long as my heart beats, so long I will love you… ou ou ou. These words are now enshrined on some leaves in the primeval forest, and it is said that they originally have been written on a crumpled napkin, which was thrown out of the tavern right here at the forest edge. The carrier pigeon’s aunt was moved to tears when she read them, and then she immediately sent her nephew, with the napkin rolled up on one leg, to primeval forest editors so the words could come to honor and dignity. And they are quite well known now. But now my tears also start coming out... so Snip, Snap, Snout." 

Hymens Lænker.

”Der er jo ingen der siger, at vi behøver at bestille og pikke alt fra menukortet på én gang,” sagde Solsorten med hovedet på skrå, hvilket fik hans ord til at virke næsten plausible. ”Jeg mener i overført tilstand, forstås. Vi kan starte med at dele en regne-orm op i en halv snes stykker og så hyggepikke, mens vi vrider sagen og ser på de muligheder der kunne lægges i det.”

Lærken følte sig i syv sind. Selv om Solsorten var både smuk og beleven, var det jo sin sag at stifte familie med ham. Hun følte, det næsten var som et kragehop, og behøvede både tid og overvejelser, før hun eventuelt ville vinge ideen af. De havde kærligheden til fælles, og kærlighed går aldrig i for små sko. Den ænser næppe forskelle i art, køn eller sprog, og behøver derfor aldrig skohorn.  Men konspirationen var ganske interessant. Tænk at få unger med en sort af en art, der kunne fremvise et så pragtfuldt, gult næb. Sikke dog en redelighed. Ornitologen, som boede lige bag træerne ved den gule kornmark, som de begge følte, var deres matrikel, ville få et føl, hvis så fald ifremt en ny art pludselig gik på vingerne. Nu var hun ikke i stand til at fremvise et ordinært smil, da mundvigene var for stive, men begge hendes øjne udtrykte tydelige smil ved tanken.

”Og der skal være dansk stil over det,” fortsatte Solsorten. ”Vi flyver til Dværgen, ved sagnfuglen Rok’s næb-slibningsbjerg, og bliver smedet i Hymens Lænker. Han er den bedste Lænkesmed i miles omkreds, og han smeder de fineste, æteriske af slagsen, fugle kan bære. Så flyver vi til Hornuglen, som forretter det endelige forgiftningsmål. Han afslutter nemlig altid den slags med et Fadervor, og det kan jeg godt lide. Det varmer helt ud i svingfjerene, og så er der ingen køer på isen bagefter.

Katanjehesten har lært uglen at messe Fadervor på Volapyk, som han jo selv har studeret i sin grundform, og det vil uden tvivl medvirke til, at der, i første omgang i aller fald, kommer de smukkeste, æggeformede resultater ud af vores parforløb, for han kan meget mere end sit Fadervor. At nogle så eventuelt går til Rænkesmeden, fordi de får ondt i styrefjerene af vores forbehold, må de selv om. Hvis de vil ofre, hvad disse rænker egentlig koster dem, så lad dem dog spilde deres krudt, som de vil.”

Hornuglen var blevet adviseret af Solsorten om, at den sikkert snart skulle forgifte ham og hans udkårne. ”Hun er så smuk,” fortalte han uglen, ”og så er hun en rigtig Sanglærke… med X-faktor.”

Det kneb dog stadig for uglen at messe Fadervor udenad på Volapyk, så nu sad han igen, med sine hornbriller på næbbet, og øvede sig:

"O Fat obas, kel binol in süls!

Nem olik pasaludükonöd!

Regän ola kömonöd!

Vil olik jenonöd,

äsä in sül, i su tal!

Givolös obes adelo bodi aldelik obsik!

E pardolös obes döbotis obsik,

äsä i obs pardobs utanes, kels edöbons kol obs.

E no blufodolös obis,

ab livükolös obis de bad!" 

Han forstod udemærket, hvor vigtigt det var for Solsorten, at det gik rigtigt til, så han studerede sedlen med bønnen mange gange, lukkede øjnene og prøvede om han kunne memorere den i tankerne, og kiggede så atter. Sådan havde det været, siden han fik bønnen af Kastanjehesten, og Fadervor på Volapyk er ikke noget, man bare jabber af sig, for så bliver det let til det rene volapyk.

Og det er jo noget ganske andet.

Hymens chains

“Nobody says that we need to order and peck everything from the menu at once,” said Christian, the blackbird, with tilted head, which caused his words to seem almost plausible. “As a start we can peck an earthworm into a dozen pieces and then enjoy it while we wring the case and look at the opportunities that might be in it.”

Lara, the lark felt herself in two minds. Although Christian was both beautiful and courteous, it was indeed a challenge to start a family with him. She felt it was almost like a crow hop, and needed time and consideration before she would possibly give the idea a wing. They had the love in common, and love never goes in too small shoes. It did neither notice nor exaggerate the differences in species, sex or language, and therefore didn’t need shoehorn. It was also quite interesting. Think about getting kids with a species which is being able to show such a beautiful, yellow beak. The ornithologist who lived just behind the trees by the yellow cornfield, they both felt was their land, would shitting bricks if a new species suddenly went on the wings. Now she was not able to show an ordinary smile as corners of her mouth was too rigid, but both her eyes expressed clear smiles at the thought.

“And there shall be involved style,” continued Christian. “We will fly to the dwarf who lives in a cave under the legendary bird Rok’s beak grinding mountain, and being forged in the Hymen’s chains. He is the best chain smith for miles around, and forges the finest chains birds can carry. Then we fly to the great owl, as performs the final wedding ceremony. He includes namely always this kind of ceremony with the Lord’s Prayer, and I like that. It warms completely out in the flight feathers, and then there are no cows on the ice afterwards.”

The chestnut-horse have taught the owl the Lord’s Prayer at Volapyk, as he has studied in its basic form, and it will undoubtedly contribute to the most beautiful, egg-shaped results of our partnership for he knows much more than his Lord’s Prayer, so to speak. Some are possibly going to the wile smith because they get hurt in their control feathers by our relation. If they want to sacrifice what these wiles really cost them, so let them waste their ‘gunpowder,’ as they will.”

The owl had been advised of Christian that he probably soon should administer the wedding ceremony for him and his loved one. “Lara is so beautiful,” he told him, “and she is a real Skylark … with X-Factor.”

The trick, however, was still for the owl to say the Lord’s Prayer by heart at Volapyk, so now he sat with his horn-rimmed glasses on the beak, and practiced:

"O Fat obas, kel binol in süls!
Nem olik pasaludükonöd!
Regän ola kömonöd!
Vil olik jenonöd,
äsä in sül, i su tal!
Givolös obes adelo bodi aldelik obsik!
E pardolös obes döbotis obsik,
äsä i obs pardobs utanes, kels edöbons kol obs.
E no blufodolös obis,
ab livükolös obis de bad!"

He understood, how important it was for Christian that it went well, so he studied the note with the prayer written, many times, closed his eyes and tried if he could memorize it in his mind, and then looked again. It had been like that since he got the prayer of the chestnut-horse, and the Lord’s Prayer at Volapyk is not something you just jabber, else it easily becomes the pure ‘volapyk.’

And that is something quite different.