Newwings v.20010401 by artwells me@artwells.com The latest version of this document can be retrieved from http://www.artwells.com/oracula/files/ The complete document from the artwells oracula. http://www.artwells.com/oracula/ Please see the copyright notice at the bottom before you redistribute this (which you can do without paying). Please see the explanation at the bottom if you don't know what this is. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- IIIIII Peril masks freedom. I is a shadow. Though it conceals, it cannot be concealed. I is morning fog. After clearing, it marks nothing. I is an opening flower. Help it, and you destroy it. I is a thief running through a crowd. He is slow and obvious. I is a circling bird. It is seen by everything, but much remains unseen by it. I is the noon sun. The highest reveals the most. IIIIIO The first shoots die in the last frost. I is an injured back. All limbs are reverent. I is a broken lock. Thieves steal only the replaceable. I is a snow castle. That it will melt soon is among its beauties. I is the fire of a single log. Warmth may not be saved long. I is a breaking bone. It will heal stronger than before. O is a bed of frozen seedlings. Another beginning is sometimes the only remedy. IIIIOI Faith must sometimes counter wisdom. I is a boat going downstream. You must paddle enough to steer, but only this much. I is a good reputation. It is greatest in those that ignore it. I is a slowly built house. The patient are the joyous. I is good seed. Your hand holds next season's harvest. O is gratitude. To receive it well is to earn it again. I is a sudden change of fortune. Even when good, its suddenness is a violence. IIIIOO Expansion thins. I is a dandelion. When it is ready, a small breeze is enough. I is sea froth. The soft waves increase the fragile. I is an egg. It is best broken from inside. I is a soap bubble. Even when it is still, its skin swirls. O is a bell. Add anything, and you ruin its voice. O is a cloud. The full can float as well. IIIOII Tethers bind only to the firm. I is an anchor. Location is a thin line. I is a child's kite. The leash of the high is in small hands. I is a balance. It rocks in judgement. O is a sieve. Only the small are lost. I is a sunbeam. Dust dances its shape. I is a thrown stone. It must bend to the earth, whatever its speed. IIIOIO We create by looking. I is the musician's heart. Can you hear this beat? I is a medicine bottle. Health is frightening in dark glass. I is a knot. Be grateful that this problem is not smaller. O is a pair of scissors. The blades must oppose one another. I is a necklace in the road. Others' broken chains can be great fortune. O is a firecracker. Nothing but fire can make it sound. IIIOOI Release is not necessarily freedom. I is a hand closing. Fingers hold best by meeting. I is lightning. Its sound outlasts its sight. I is a box lid. Only its weight resists opening. O is a locked glass box. Sight alone may trespass. O is rain. Each cloud has a million hands. I is a palm. The least flexible holds the most weight. IIIOOO Bend often, break once. I is a tree bent by a storm. If the roots are firm, it will stand. I is riverbed rock. Patience sculpts. I is a sunrise. The most essential beauty passes quickly, but daily. O is the polar star. The untouchable guides. O is a hawk diving. Its speed is in descent, not height. O is a wind. It is seen only by what it can move. IIOIII Comfort is a species of forgetting. I is a bolt of silk. Just unfolding it is a pleasure. I is a warm bath. It is most pleasurable if it is left while it is still warm. O is a glass of cream. Luxury alone is too much. I is winter sun through a clean window. Some joys erase all their costs. I is ice cream left too long. We must hurry. I is a pillow. It appears to be understuffed, or overstuffed, to the sleepless. IIOIIO Injury instructs only the brave and vulnerable. I is a child held by his mother. The world is arms and breast. I is a low candle. The circle of light diminishes. O is torn clothing. It admits breezes and embarrassments. I is a false preacher. He teaches a great lesson at a great price. I is a patched roof. The greatest reward for labor is forgetting its need. O is night rain. It is a priceless lullaby to the well sheltered. IIOIOI Satisfaction is desire embraced. I is a table between friends. It supports four elbows and a million words. I is a path covered with dry leaves. Each step talks back. O is a hot sun. It can open any jacket and steal a thousand shoes. I is a tent pole. It nails the tarp to the sky. O is an empty wallet. Nowhere can a coin seem larger. I is a jeweled box. You can wait to see what is inside. IIOIOO Trembling is caused by fear, fever and pleasure. I is a locked door on weak hinges. Once unlocked, it will remain open forever. I is a twitching muscle. It wants activity this much. O is the last leaf on a tree. Winter needs one last wind. I is a pond rippling from a thrown stone. The expanding circles lead others more faint. O is the uneven walk of an old man. Time has taken more from one side than the other. O is a bridge leg in a swollen river. Waves churn behind it, but it remains. IIOOII In becoming free, safety is the first burden left. I is a sheet of paper in violent winds. It will tear if it is fastened. I is the belly of a sail. Stress lends a fertile form. O is the base of a waterfall. Can you drink here? O is an eddy. Circles embrace the lost, and trap the drifting. I is the bridge of a fallen tree. Beautiful accident is rare. I is an old banister. If it cannot hold weight it is better torn out. IIOOIO A rush to the ending frightens it away. I is a pendant. Though below the chain, it leads. I is an index. The last is the first to the hasty. O is a broken finger. The hand limps four times. O is an umbrella. Upturned, it catches the rain. I is a single shoe. Whatever its quality, it has no worth. O is a missing tooth. What is hope to the young, is fate to the old. IIOOOI Boundaries are the first seen. I is the edge of a long dress. Only luxury drags. I is a swing. Shifting support can be soothing. O is a broken window. Is this a great trouble in summer? O is a cat crossing the street. Some things move only quickly enough. O is a chair. Arms that are always open, never embrace. I is a mirror. Its surface may be known only by cracks and dust. IIOOOO Expansion is absorption. I is a pendulum. It speeds from the middle, and yet stops there. I is a smile. It may be repeated or renewed, but not saved. O is unhemmed fabric. The edge threads escape first. O is ice. Warmth smooths and diminishes. O is spilt red wine. It intoxicates with color. O is smoke. The high must become hazy. IOIIII What we bring closer, grows to us. I is a thumb. The four fingers serve it, but it must first come to them. O is a seldom-opened closet. Would it be so bad to find it empty? I is a mending thread. Some are brought together by what pierces. I is a fishing line. It must be kept politely tight after the hook is set. I is a handle. Do not weigh it alone. I is a fist. It can hold little, but it holds little well. IOIIIO Holding is the best knowledge of shape. I is the barb of a hook. It must turn back, to catch. O is a rolled rug. The weaver's work must hide to be carried. I is a tree branch. It will stretch even downward to catch the sun. I is a fork. Would it work with a single tine? I is a burr. It takes a thousand fingers to hold this well. O is a deep well. Only a splash may return. IOIIOI The best question is its own answer. I is a morning before sunrise. When we rob from the night, we must be quiet. O is a lake sparkling with wind. The invisible excite as they pass. I is a moth confusing a light with the moon. When image is destination, we only circle. I is a calf feeding. Hunger nourishes enthusiasm. O is a fire built on snow. Its health melts its support. I is the first edge of the sunrise. All else seems darkened. IOIIOO Descent lessens only height. I is the darkness of a cave. The smallest fire will burn it all. O is a stone bead. Only the hole is new. I is lightning. Its voice comes from the darkness after. I is new growth from an old stump. This much cannot be severed. O is a step down in the dark. Can you see with your foot? O is a cracked stone. Its center may now be seen. IOIOII Dreams are hard to lift, but easy to carry. I is money found in a dream. A little regret will follow waking. O is a morning stretch. Waking is expanding. I is a stout lock on a thin chain. You may choose your obstacles. O is a new mushroom. Only the pale grow quickly. I is a floating candle. A thin dish will do for small waves. I is the highest leaf. The unshaded are pulled by each wind. IOIOIO Steps are stretches forward. I is a seed sprouting. One hand ascends and the other plunges. O is a thin stream. Why wade where you can leap? I is a plant with new, pale leaves. A hundred empty palms turn to catch the sun. O is a long, patient rain. Only this will raise the river. I is the tallest tree. It alone will call eagles. O is a great lake. The silent have the audience of a thousand rivers. IOIOOI All boundary is entryway. I is a city gate. Other entrances are ignored. O is a gutter. Rain and time sweep well. I is a market. Bargaining has a small place and a small language. O is a beach. Each step is the ocean's door. O is a wasp at its nest. Some beauty should not be approached. I is a children's game. The fun lies in changing the rules. IOIOOO The odd repeated is even. I is strong thread. Its hold will outlast what is held. O is a kaleidoscope. Repetitions pleasantly confuse. I is a closed book. All words are this patient. O is a tiled floor. What meets our feet may please the eyes. O is a refrain. It ends each verse differently. O is the weave of a basket. It must alternate to hold. IOOIII Embraces may abrade. I is the root of a weed. To remove half is only delay. O is a lost traveler. He will give his direction to a stranger. O is mortar. It must mimic what it holds. I is a shell button. The beautiful helps the useful. I is a torn map. Knowledge too far followed is ignorance. I is a worn key. It fits the lock too well to work. IOOIIO Firm footing is necessary for leaping. I is a violent rain. The streets will be clean tomorrow. O is a broken clock. Extra time may be deceiving. O is a path of wet stones in a river. It would be better to wade. I is a tree on the cliff edge. The edge must be firm, but there is no reason to trust it. I is a frog leaping into a pond. It escapes to where jumping is impossible. O is cool water. Thirst makes it beautiful. IOOIOI Growth is a violence to limits. I is a pair of new shoes. Skin and leather will adjust. O is a fever. An ill body makes an ill mind. O is a pruned tree. New growth is easily imagined. I is a tarp. Some things serve only to cover. O is a shouting lunatic. Madness is easier to share. I is a scar. Injuries provide their own memories. IOOIOO Everything speaks at once. I is a letter of introduction. The value of the past can fit on a single page. O is a song in a foreign language. Only the words are confusing. O is a sign in a flood. Words unread are useless. I is an insult. Though you shout, you will soon wish the hearer deaf. O is ink spilled on a diary. This relates itself. O is a tattoo. After it is accepted, it is repeated forever. IOOOII That which indicates nothing, introduces everything. I is a well-rested traveller. A hunger for distance wakes with him. O is a blank piece of paper. It is a strong barrier to weak words. O is a magnet. It attracts with selective compulsion. O is an open hand. It is prepared to grab, or push. I is a creeping vine. The slowest seek the still. I is a spreading fire. The passionate cannot return. IOOOIO Time suffers when it is overfed. I is hesitation. The tensions within it, crack it. O is a step backwards. To move away from the goal is to move blindly. O is an inspiring memory. We must follow ghosts cautiously. O is a doorbell. This must be your voice here. I is a doorknocker. Why use your knuckles? O is an unlatched door. A nudge here will do more than petition or patience. IOOOOI The desert is a wide path. I is a large breakfast. Readiness comes delicious. O is back wind. The air travels with you. O is an onion. Its center grows without earth or water. O is a lantern. Lift it above you, and you will see farther. O is a mountain peak. Descent welcomes return. I is a nap at noon. Sleep enjoys a surprise. IOOOOO The patient thirst is half quenched. I is a rattle. It is loudest when nearly empty. O is a sleeping bird. Small, silent sights are rare. O is a frozen lake. Cold earth and cold water seem the same. O is the rustling of a curtain. This may be a breeze or an opening. O is an egg. It is only small food today. O is a swollen branch in spring. The inevitable is announced, not foretold. OIIIII The ignored are sought when they fail. O is a flock from the south. Spring flies with them. I is a surprise rain. It sits undrained on the shocked earth. I is the second halfmoon. As it peaks, the sun escapes. I is a fallen tree limb. It meets what it shaded. I is a sore foot. The earth is now brutal. I is a fragile jar. Do you want to see what is inside? OIIIIO All that we do converses. O is a dog at the door. Waiting and watching erode each other. I is a stage. Before empty seats, it is only a raised floor. I is a choir. Their voices are closer together than their shoulders. I is a market. Merchandise and money are the lesser exchanges. I is a coin. It is either a large command, or a small favor. O is a window over the courtyard. Each sight is loud invitation. OIIIOI No strength is new. O is a new soft spot in the floor. What is beneath it? I is a new bump in the sidewalk. Ground steps back slowly. I is a feast. What has taken a year to raise, can be finished at a happy sitting. I is wine gone to vinegar. Patience can rob too. O is a flowering tree. The most striking fade quickly. I is mistletoe. The high may ignore winter. OIIIOO To be afraid for peace is to be at war. O is the lines of an orchard. We see through only at angles. I is an unturned card. The obscured have any face. I is a dull knife. If you force it to cut something, it may choose you. I is a rock on a high mountain. Great work can be undone with a shove. O is a frightened flock of birds. Escape may not be direct, but it can be beautiful. O is a dog shaking a toy. Pantomimes of the brutal may be funny. OIIOII Orbits reveal their centers. O is a carousel. Sometimes we desire to go nowhere on wooden beasts. I is a melody. The simplest live longest in our minds. I is the highest wave. By this blow, the tide is satisfied. O is a ring of dancers. Each may embrace all. I is a top. It will topple only when it slows. I is an early evening star. Only the brilliant may climb on dusk's back. OIIOIO Each problem has an age. O is a dirty window. The sky will clear when you clean it. I is a northern wind in the morning. This chill may last only an hour. I is a cow. It chews more than it has eaten. O is a tree stump. You may sit where the tall fell. I is a cut finger. The knife obeyed your error. O is an angered bee. Run, be still, kill it or be stung. OIIOOI Failings too deserve reverence. O is a stumbling. Hands and feet rush to get underneath. I is a docked ship. You will soon see what it carries. I is a low doorway. All but the short must bow. O is a burning field. Black ground welcomes autumn. O is smoke. The stronger fire gives less. I is a fence blown over. To the powerful, all walls are gates. OIIOOO Division is a type of subtraction. O is the swimmer submerged. His image trembles on the surface. I is rotting wood. A hand is axe enough. I is a rock on a frozen lake. This response to patience is sudden. O is the plow's work. A bed must be made for the harvest to wake in. O is a walnut. A thick shell is sometimes worth a small reward. O is a tree split by a storm. Large arms cannot carry the wind. OIOIII Intersections lack size and boundaries. O is distraction. It must be welcomed to be defeated. I is a division in the road. Three paths are identical here. O is the corner of a room. Where does it end? I is a low gate. If the latch sticks, step over it. I is a hilltop. All roads lead downwards. I is a roof. What holds nothing, shields best. OIOIIO We obscure what we stand upon. O is the river at night. Who knows what floats by? I is a stray dog. Pet it once and it will follow you miles. O is a chipped glass. Without intending, you may drink your own blood. I is a kettle lid. It dances heavily in its occluding work. I is a boat on the land. Even the best are naked and useless. O is a voice in a cave. All words return from the empty. OIOIOI The truth is invisible to staring eyes. O is a package opened in travel. What is lost will be noticed too late. I is a plate falling from the stack. Can you catch it without dropping the rest? O is a loose shoelace while you are running. Care will do until it can be tied. I is a free day in a strange place. To become lost is the best destination. O is a parrot in a big house. The cage opened becomes a nest. I is a thin banquet tent. It will hold rain only until evening. OIOIOO Each step is one of faith. O is a stairway of stone. Ascension is rarely this firm. I is a flooded path. Muddy water may be of any depth. O is a cave. Can you breathe air as old as the walls? I is a handrail. Even unused, it serves its purpose. O is a veil. Obscurity is sometimes beauty. O is a chimney. The highest exit is reserved for smoke. OIOOII To move a center one must grab edges. O is the first snow of winter. All things are anxious to wear white. I is a shared burden. Weight is common, but handles are not. O is a footprint in the mud. The soft remember best, but only briefly. O is a dish of paint. Is it an unhatched picture, or a sleeping stain? I is a rope. It will hold only when binding, and bound. I is a sculpted stone. True beauty forgives all subtractions. OIOOIO Short steps make a runner fall. O is a silence. It is loud when unexplained. I is short travel. The wonderful may be very near. O is an empty bed. Even at noon, it welcomes sleep. O is a wide, shallow box. The tall must topple to fit. I is a homecoming too soon. The same things do not welcome again. O is an opened fan. The thin are best at moving the thinnest. OIOOOI Desire confuses gracefully. O is moss on a statue. What does it take to live on stone? I is grass at the desert's edge. Slow battles appear motionless. O is a gong. Its only depth is noise. O is an echo. The return is weaker, but mysterious. O is the face of the moon. You may see anything in its markings. I is an impromptu feast. Eating is more than the end of hunger. OIOOOO The smaller may contain the larger. O is a sealed envelope. Reverent mouths wait for a welcome. I is a dense hedge. Will you look over what is difficult to see through? O is an oyster. Fortune, or at least food, waits inside. O is an oven. What we give is baked or burned into what we receive. O is a maze. Confusion is always at least entertaining. O is a tightly ribboned gift. Generosity and pride require pretty obstacles. OOIIII We are all that is new. O is a small bag. The contents are easily carried, and found. O is a strange place. What is adventure to you is common here. I is a thick blanket. Form is lost in comfort. I is a long road. It ends at the horizon and at your feet. I is a smooth cliff face. Nothing clings to it but our vision. I is a home in the valley. To return is to descend. OOIIIO Darkness mocks all masks. O is a blank canvas. It asks frightening, but joyful, questions. O is a long walk at night. All pillows are patient. I is a running dream. You will wake tired, but relieved. I is the night barking of a dog. He knocks at each window. I is travel at dawn. The birds sing good-bye. O is an empty vase. Do you have a more welcomed chore? OOIIOI Only the top of the distant may be seen. O is an empty stomach. All things are empty to it. O is a frightened cat. Everything fluffs, except the claws. I is a missing keystone. The uppermost would hold this base. I is a faulty lock. Would you prefer it stuck open, or closed? O is a large drum. Tight skins make loud voices. I is a window pane. Pass through it with anything but sight, and you will be cut. OOIIOO Conflict hardens the soft and softens the hard. O is a drawstring. A single pull gathers all. O is a cramped muscle. Too much force seizes. I is a ram. A thick skull is required to charge. I is a hammer blow. It stops only in moving others. O is a burst pipe. Water now has its will. O is a torn bag. What use is it to you? OOIOII An absence is immeasurable. O is an empty rain barrel. Today's rain is too late. O is cracked earth. How is it mended? I is a spring. The magnificent begins unseen. O is a brittle, green leaf. It can only be regrown. I is a canal. What cannot be carried, may be directed. I is a wave. The ocean's hands stretch to you. OOIOIO Contact may exist at an interval. O is a pair of stilts. It is dangerous to walk on what you carry. O is a harmony. One does not stray alone. I is a dog's tail. It waves hello without a hand. O is a company of dancers. The space between them dances as well. I is a dense forest. Even the wind slows here. O is a bed of cooling coals. Though they are still, they shake air. OOIOOI Rhythm diminishes. O is a log at the riverside. The flood waters will come again to take it away. O is an echo. Only a great space may hold so many voices. I is a drum. Once is meaningless to the hollow. O is a garden wall. Larger stones ask for more mortar. O is a fern frond. Only the tips turn inward. I is a net. It must catch fish, not hold water. OOIOOO The largest passion can fit in the smallest place. O is the image of a rock. It can pass through glass without smashing it. O is a house on stilts. The creaking of the floor is louder here. I is a crooked arrow. The best archer and bow fail here. O is a canal flowing into the desert. This land can drink forever. O is bread dough. It grows through injury and warmth. O is an ornate ceiling. Its beauty will cause guests to trip. OOOIII To fall is to seek foundation. O is a vase at the table's edge. There is only a short distance to either fate. O is a wine glass. Its bottom rounds as it is emptied. O is a nest. Many eggs need a high edge. I is a dark cloud. The provident may ride wind. I is a wind vane. Sudden judgement stands on only one leg. I is a bird on a clothesline. If it slips, what does it matter? OOOIIO Acceptance is the virtue to the empty. O is a dry river bed. It invites you to imagine flood. O is the foundation of a ruined house. Where vines grow, walls stood. O is the smile of a stranger. It may mean anything. I is a stage curtain. Once opened, it is forgotten. I is beautiful carpet. Bare feet see. O is the last dry inch of the dam. The quiet and slow may be the most feared. OOOIOI High light shortens shadows. O is a puppy let loose. It will try to be everywhere at once. O is a weak yoke. Burden will free the bound. O is a migrant bird. Impressive journeys start anywhere. I is a drum. The most simple leads. O is the arc of an axe. It ends dangerously inward. I is the last match. Only wise plans make this suffice. OOOIOO Loud slurring is less than whispering. O is a dancer in the rain. Music is shelter enough. O is a guitar already tuned. Will you tune it anyway? O is the soft voice of a salesman. Empty pockets can be a defense. I is a bird falling. The ground will be met if it is only watched. O is an old cart's creaking. Slow problems are long winded. O is a curse against the rain. Words weigh less than water. OOOOII Forward is upward if you face a peak. O is the foot of a duck. It is hidden when it swims, and when it flies. O is spreading fire. It may not retreat. O is a loose balloon. The light must obey wind. O is a solid roof shingle. The dutiful may be ignored. I is a falling star. It passes the others briefly. I is a kite. It cannot fly without a tight string. OOOOIO Courage thins with altitude. O is a fountain's pool. The small may receive infinitely. O is an uphill path. The straightest may not be shortest. O is incense smoke. Pleasures may be pale. O is wind from a cave. Will you find its source? I is the top of a waterfall. The water does not hesitate. O is someone carrying fire. The lightest burdens are held carefully, and high. OOOOOI Darkness places obstacles everywhere. O is a poorly gravelled path. It has buried itself in mud. O is a thin beach near a cliff. This way will drown by dusk. O is the sun setting into clouds. The horizon is softened and obscured. O is a parting in dense brush. You may meet what has gone before. O is the first star. It has no name before the others shine. I is a door opening to the traveller. Each welcoming can be destination enough. OOOOOO What is not waking is waiting. O is a held hand. Unless it is held firmly, the heart is held as well. O is a morning breeze. The night's smoke is swept. O is a wider boat. More current is carried as well. O is a wide gate barely opened. Many have paraded where now one must squeeze. O is a blanket thrown off. The world of sleep is forgotten this easily. O is a gold chain. We choose to bind ourselves decoratively. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Explanation Newwings is an online oracle found at the artwells oracula. Briefly, it isn't meant to be a translation of the I Ching, but a work inspired by the form of the I Ching. From the webpage: I got an itch to break open the I Ching and see what its guts look like. The I Ching was born three millennia ago, in a pictographic language. I was born in the sixties in Oakland. You can't get there from here. I've never studied Chinese, the language or the history, so what I see in the I Ching is not cryptic or academic, religious or political. It's common and it's common in my life, anywhere I choose to look for it. For half my life I've consulted the same old paperback for old wisdom and strained to bring those distant symbols home. I looked for what I found most compelling in the I Ching, that power that must be without context, cultural or temporal. I got out the beat-up book and I threw the coins. The I Ching gave me, again, a strong message. I came up with this image of what I thought it was trying to say in its awkward language of princes and wars, and it had nothing to do with princes and wars. It had to do with dancing. I wrote it down. I did this to many of the hexagrams-- every one that I threw from then on. After ten or twelve, I gave one of them to two of my friends. The thoughts this provoked in them were extreme: rich, noble, and philosophic. Though this may say more about my friends than my insights, it gave me confidence and pushed me into a real, undeniable groove. I was onto something. I was into the guts of it. Here is what I saw. copyright 1995-1999 artwells newwings@artwells.com Use and redistribution of this work restricted (but not much) by the Open Content license (OPL) v1.0. See: http://www.opencontent.org/opl.shtml for more information. < >