Shel Graves' Sensorium

The sharp rocks of Loathing rest on a plateau above the denizens of Loathing. A thick fog surrounds it. Great birds with leathery wings deposit visitors upon the rock of Loathing. Some climb the sharp rocks. Some search. They boast of their accomplishments: “From those heights you see what others cannot.”  Others argue: “You seem nothing. You look down through fog." “That’s not how I was not brought up. We do not loathe nor seek nor climb," says Miss Emeline Traveler.  "Although, of course, I am curious about everything. But they say the fog prevents seeing anyway. Also, is it not poisonous?” she asks. “I heard that woman Emily...something climbed the rocks," flies the rumor. To which Miss Emeline replied, “How I hate to be called Emily!”

Royal blue and purple, ebony, and emerald waters surround the Cavern of Awe. This is the Sea of Amazement. Dive in and become a sea creature: merfolk, selkie, or sea monster. All the sleek bodies — swim here. Naiads swim in the upper river. When the clouds over Amazement gather and grow, dark columns of water lift treasures from the sea to the sky. Miss Emeline Traveler she has been to Amazement, but she can’t quite remember when. “Was I awestruck?” she asks. “Perhaps in the face of natural beauty: A herd of whales,” she says and then falls silent, remembering. There’s an unforgettable look on her face.

The cavern Awe, dark and fathomless, echoes on its way down to the sea. The sea whispers inside it, “Calm sea meat.” Light bounces from the gem-lined cavern and rainbow light beings dance. The bright-eyed goddesses flail their arms in ecstasy and remember. The Traveler joins them. In she goes.  Awe welcomes all, but few can find the place even with maps. The paths to Awe twist and turn. People get lost or give up. Some find it at the most unexpected moment. They return with gems of Awe. But most are too captivated, to think of stealing. They stay, glitter dance until it begins to rain, and then return.

Taste: sourness in the back of the throat Sound: lapping, panting; purring Smell: cherry, timothy grass, hay Sight: cherry blossoms; trillium Touch: straining, pulling, lunging, yanking; the weight of a cat in your lap, warm, sharp kneading Extra: When I reached deep inside for release I found only tears. Grateful for: poetry, Mary Shelley cat, video games, Sam

Unperturbed — a white sturdy castle with a moat beside a placid lake. The moat does not hide reptiles. Those live in the lake and sun themselves on the sandy banks. The dragons live deep in the mountains atop piles of jewels and avoid the castle. Many people live within the castle and weave fine tapestries. The beautiful threads come together one by one, color by color, to depict calm scenes. Visitors come to Unperturbed to learn the weaver’s craft. The Traveler comes infrequently to Unperturbed and soon leaves.  “The troubles and curiosities of this place are not my own,” she thinks. Instead, a desire to find someplace new overcomes her.

Unicorns run through the forests of Cavalier and graze in the green meadows, rolling beside white castles. Wildflowers fill the sunlit forests. Sun sparkles on the ponds and clear rivers flow steadily. The dragons breathe floral scents and magical clouds of well-being. Health favors all. There are no predators and abundant food. “Have no fear,” the denizens say.  They eat berries from thornless vines and nibble low hanging apples and pears. There are easy paths through the forests and around the hills and low gates around the castles. “All are welcome and may enter,” the princesses say. “Is it truly safe?” asks a trepidatious visitor. “Of course,” the denizens say. Sometimes visitors contract diseases caused by the dragon’s breath and have allergies and rashes from the wildflowers and fruits, but the denizens of cavalier never understand how anything in Cavalier could make anyone sick, for it has never happened to them. “I never felt that I belonged there,” said The ...

When tired, everyone comes to Weary and everyone to the capitol Apprehension. Apprehension remains in night. The night land city holds vampires and mausoleums, temples, and tombs. Rust-colored moss coats the 18-foot-tall rocks. Someone maintains the grasses in places and someone lets the downs wither. Mold finds its way into the tombs. Monsters with sloping shoulders and long rust-colored grassy hair skulk. Hares leap nervously. Pigeons startle. Quail run uncertainly into the night.

Dogs howl on the cold, foggy moors of Weary. The moon wanes, a faint light. Owls and bats swoop among the castle ruins and ancient stone circles. Stone fences once held in flocks of sheep. Q: Where have they gone? A: A monster accidentally awakened by old magics stomped them beneath its feet and now the land sinks underfoot. It leaves spongy footprints. People fall into them when the walk the moors. Everyone falls asleep tossing and turning. Insomniacs watch for a glimpse of the Stomp Monster. “Come, Shiro!” a man calls softly for his dog throughout the night. He has dark circles under his eyes and lean cheeks. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Blooms bright red. The blossoms may be made into a sweet-smelling and potent tea. Rage blossoms perpetually. The harvesting must be done quickly. In the capitol, the trumpet red blossom and forked yellow leaves are a recurring architectural motif. Vines grow up the red walls of buildings made of sand. The Rage Plant blooms after the rains and visitors come and go. They leave during the storms, but the prisoners don bright red robes and stay. They work the flower fields. They stand over the earth and wait for Rage to blossom again then quickly bow over the blossoms and pull the red petals to their chests. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

The desert Anger hides the land Cheated and the city Contempt. When the desert rains fall, flowers bloom in Rage covering the dunes. When the seasonal rains fall, steam rises from the sands. Everyone comes here, some often. The dunes swallow them. They fall into sand traps mouths open, teeth bared. The thorny vines grow. Spiked lizards crawl. Everyone wears scaled armor and breathes flame. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Taste: soy cheddar cheese shreds; tofu; a tofu and corn scramble; the difference between canned and frozen corn Sound: ocean; hissing and growling Smell: green spring grass; spices-a shelf full of spices Sight: a sunlit cat; a very pregnant pig; blades of grass; a baby goat anus and vagina Touch: the earth beneath my belly, laying belly down against the earth on a hillside Extra: imagine our losses, catastrophes, a shelf for of spices Grateful for: rainy day funds (but also how they never use them imagining even worse) and hoarders

The Frog Palace skimmed by water skippers and fed by flies lies in the center of Reflective Lake. Dragonflies soar. Carp jump. Canes stalk the reedy edges. The mud has healing properties. Fascinated changes color with sunrise and sunset and becomes a different place at dawn and dusk. Lotus flowers bloom on the lake’s surface and stretch roots into the healing mud below. Om mani padme hum. Remember, you are made of water. The surface buzzes with flies scattered by jumping fish. It’s murky and silt filled at the edges, but perfectly clear at its center. Silver scaled fish circle. The frogs lay their eggs in the dark beneath a fallen tree. The pollywogs wiggle in the mud. They grow fat and large. Their skin breathes in good, fresh, healing air. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

No one wants to live here among the frail cancerous bones — detritus from Dislike — a great city made of the shiniest bones, built by Disdainful vultures. The city ascends bone by bone, but restricted in girth by the Bone Corset. It cannot sprawl. The stairways and passages of Confined make mazes. Travelers get lost in them. People apply for visas attempting to recover loved ones and become lost themselves in the spiral staircases of bone searching. "They say the vultures ate them," whispers one. “No, the vultures never eat their guests," chides another. Some wander off to read in bone nooks and crannies. In the Bone Market sellers offer trinkets, runes, and charms: “Find your way.” “Find peace.” “Never get lost again.” “How offensive,” outsiders say. “To wear the precious secret hidden parts of another soul laid bare.” Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

A shiny land of bleached bones, Disdainful, lies at the bottom of the cliff of Dislike below the land of Thoughtless. Vast sweeps below. Its sands are made of bone. Vultures of many sizes and shades of purple, black, and gray perch on the bone trees and pick at the bone sands. They gnaw bones and crack them. Visitors come to see the fabled fields of Disdain, but are never satisfied. No one lives here long. Only vultures call it home. They vultures take the shape of whomever they eat. They make maps of bones. Bones emerge from the pit of Dislike which become the land's topography. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Dislike perches on the cliff of Thoughtless. It pushes everything that doesn’t belong to it off. These fall below, shatter, and decay in the sun picked at by indifferent vultures. Bones clatter. Dislike, made of clay, has windows and terraces. The Thoughtless look: Nothing and no one pleases them. Red sunsets filled with distain. They worship vultures and carve statutes, finials, and ornaments in vulture shapes. Brancok and Dreall wait at the gates. Small vulture deities cluster over the doors and overhangs. Despite the unsettling gaze of the statues the birds appear harmless in the flesh as they fly and perch. It’s only when eating, gnawing on a fresh corpse cast out of Dislike, that they seem fearsome. “It could be you,” someone whispers. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Thoughtless lies on the edge of a high bare desert cliff. Skeletons bake in the sun far below. Thoughtless stretches on. Nothing can be seen from it but endless blue sky. On the clifftop the sky feels very near. “You could reach up and paint with the clouds or move them around with a fingertip, shove that grey one aside,” says the guide as the clouds gather and grey. Thunder echoes and the downpour begins. The Thoughless huddle and hunker on the cliffs (bare of cactus or tumbleweed). Their field of vision offers clay becoming light brown, spattered, and muddy — and they see nothing else. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Everyone in Defeated dreams of the sun-baked city of Satisfied Longing. Blue and yellow clay streaks the domes of the sun-baked buildings. The city rose in an island of the mud flats where the temperature rises higher than anywhere else in Defeated. Everyone here moves slowly and takes siestas against the warm, rising walls of the city. The mud people move toward Satisfied Longing when they overcome their lethargy. They rise and ascend the slopes to the city. The mud upon them dries and cracks. Flakes fall from their skin and spirits. They enter the city naked and chalky smooth. Acidic mud ate away whatever clothing they once wore. The now smooth, soft, hairless, unblemished beings sigh as they arrive at Satisfied Longing and slip through its gates. Greeters offer ladles. They drink from the well of cool alkaline water at the entrance — they sigh deeply and are welcome. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Mud flats roil over Defeated. They bubble and burst and the mud pots churn blue and yellow streaks and rings of color. Mud creatures inhabit Defeated. They withstand the heat, but the noxious gasses rising from the bubbling mud burn even their tough skin. Travelers through this sticky, mud-soaked and difficult to traverse land shed their skins and become mud monsters on their way through. They sink into the thick, deep mud and sometimes swim beneath its surface. Many come here to spend some time as a mud monster learning the ways of the mud as they pass through. Upon exit, the mud dries, cracks, and falls from their body. Later, they cleanse themselves beneath the waterfalls of Satisfied. Few consider themselves permanent residents of Defeated. No matter how long they stay they always see themselves as passersby. No one cares to build mud cities. They save their efforts for other lands. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

A group of chalets surrounded by tents, Frustration lies at the base of the Anxiety Mountains. Prayer flags flutter. Inside, the chalets smell of rosewood, cedar, and pine. The living polished wood wafts fragrances. A crackling fire glows rose in the tree’s heart flickering warmth. Climbers ascend the mountains to meet goats, leopards, and other climbers, but they must wait until weather conditions allow. The tree monks who leap from chalet to chalet, chitter, sing, and pray. They signal to each prospective climber when they may ascend. Until each receives their signal, they must wait in the lodge. They play games with pieces made of the living tree thrumming around them. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Mountainous, craggy Anxiety attracts many climbers to its beautiful peaks where long-haired goats roam. The climbers wear braids of the goats’ sleek pale blue, nearly silver, hair as talisman against falling. The climbers of Anxiety make their ascents look easy. In the little chalets below, they prepare by caring for the goats, grooming them, and braiding the goats’ beards and tails. Snow leopards hunt the goats but are often friendly when well-fed leaping from rock to rock beside friends. The goats themselves are more dangerous. Sometimes, they take a dislike and push away. Stories circulate: once upon a goat pushed a climber from a peak, cliff, or precarious perch on a whim with no forewarning. Everyone knows someone, otherwise hearty and hale, who died this way. Some have seen it. And so they ardently worship and care for the goats and hope it will not happen to them. Emotion 365: Every Day a New Land of Emotion

Taste: red grapes- juicy, wet, sweet, plump; a cream patty  Sound: plump; Journey mooing hoarsely Smell:  goat Sight: delicate light pink tulips; a silver horn Touch: plump and plumped Extra: dreaming of reading a very long book; Awake: Something is wrong.; Awake: Oh no, oh no, oh no.; braced for the worst; theft of a jar of royal jelly Grateful for: a goat girl

Traders bring everything discarded to Wasted. Some things were of value, some misplaced or ill-used. All materials are processed and returned to Wasted’s architects. They build outskirts to Wasted with all of the refuse. “Some island cities create garbage. Ours makes islands out of leftover objects,” the mayor says.  In Wasted builders, chefs, and inventors create out of cast off goods. The people are frivolous and live in reverie. They create, build, and party. Sometimes they eat only cakes and other times salads. They drink discarded whiskey for days and then uncork a waylaid bottle of champagne. They eat, use, and wear whatever comes their way. They reimagine everything. “How marvelous! How fun!” visitors exclaim. Beings immigrate here to find their lost potential. “In wasted we see your worth,” the mayor proclaims.

Paper blows through the wasteland Depleted. Corrugated metal rusts. People live in shacks made of unwanted objects, clothing in tatters. Worn down things serve worn down purposes. Scraps of cloth fly from poles marking villages of refuse and homes of healers. Everything has been lost and found again. Treasure seekers find many worthless artifacts. Acres of Depleted go on. Engines sit quietly on heaps of rusted parts. Wild dogs, rats, cats, and lizards scamper in tunnels of refuse. The resourceful residents use what they can find to survive. Some try to create beauty. They awake at night when the heat dissipates and clear circles of rubbish for dancing. They climb garbage piles and try to see where Depleted ends, “See that wave, could it be the beginning of a river?”

Hawks live in Wise, the capitol of Shocked, which can only be found by walking into the sunset of Shocked or perching atop the shakiest Shocked rock tower until it tips over. Then you fall, swoop, dive, and rise as a Hawk into the city of Wise, a city of golden hawks. Here hawks serve each other’s needs.  “It’s a fearful place, best avoided, but welcoming to all,” the guide says. The hawks have sharp beaks, keen eyes, and disdainful faces. Once you arrive, you may roost in Wise and learn the hawks’ ways. “All are teachers,” they say. Yet, everyone looks to the hawks for guidance. The birds carve knowledge into the rocks with their sharp, hooked, black beaks. Builders covet the rune-etched stones. Finding a pillar stone bodes well for your future — and if you can find someone to read the runes for you, you are sure to have good fortune.

High on the rocks, Shocked shakes with frequent earthquakes. Wide, deep, dark canyons ring back echoes. The thin, yellow layered rock crumbles underfoot. Columns of rock rise in the deserted desert. The ghosts of birds haunt Shocked. They perch atop teetering rock towers. When the towers fall, they unfurl papery wings and dive. The sharp tips of their wings brush the rock floor. Then they swoop up into the red Shocked sun.

The Rushed sprites make their fortune in the kingdom of Mindless Motion embedded in the rock at the top of the tallest misty waterfall. Orchids bloom among vines and dense moss. The city Mindless Motion continues down the among the cascades and extends into the deep churning pool. Skyscrapers of vines and moss rise. Moss roads extend upon which the sprites run. Young sprites come to the city to find their callings and take up life quests. Wise sprites live here who urge the young to visit the jungle sprites and air sprites. Some sprites never heed the warnings and rush through their lives in Mindless Motion. “Short lives made shorter," says the Guide. “But this is where the Great Doings of Sprites happen,” people say. “Is that so?”

It rains hard and fast in constantly moving Rushed filled with roaring rivers and waterfalls. In this green waterway, parrots shriek as they drop from pool to pool. Butterflies flurry down cliffs and land on monumental rocks. The people climb granite peaks under the guidance of sprites. Under waterfalls, naiads sing ephemeral songs. Visitors pass through on their way to other places missing much of the beauty, but remembering jade water and frenzied sprites, who paddle through the waters casting spells. Delicate flowers spring forth and fade. Insects lay eggs and die. Beauty passes. Precious life snuffed. We say, "It was beautiful to see while it lasted."

The inland capitol Trapped spans a lava rock plain outside of the large island of waterfalls, canyons, and great plains of Addicted. No one can escape the stifling heat. There’s nowhere to go and ice fields surround the capitol. The ice wind roars. Beggars plead at the gates of Trapped, “We’re freezing!". Visitors to Addicted come through Trapped, where must do office work for an indefinite period of time before proceeding. Underground buses take them from the airport to the city. Entryways and exits are hidden. No one can fid their own way through the jumbled unplanned city no matter how often they ask for directions. But no one here is helpful. Only beings who arrive at Addicted by magic escape the capitol work, but often they collapse unfed and wasting on the steppes. The Addicted rangers find them and put them on buses to Trapped, "Where they receive medical attention and get to work like the rest of us," the Trapped Ranger says.

The sun never sets on the large island nation Addicted — or, it always does. Addicted, a unique, magical, wild, craggy place with enormous waterfalls and underground pools — which reminds you of other places. Often too cold, wet, and windy — yet, sometimes beneath glorious sun. The night sky blooms multicolored with stars so bright. The Earth as she is meant to be.  The rocks speak. The stars know things. Get lost wandering the lava rock plains. Get lost in hot spring bliss overlooking the lava rock plains — as if this place had just been born. Return from Addicted and find every other place now disappoints nowhere so beautiful nor interesting. Yet, it is possible to survive outside of Addicted — and, not at all possible within. Visitors are not allowed. One must become a temporary resident. Fairies grant permission to any and all with a kiss of pink powder wafted from their sparkling wings. But the gnomes ask a series of invasive questions.

In Loss, marmot families live snug and silent packed together. When briefly above, they whistle and call. They eat the roots of flowers. They dig nests. They burrow together in humid clumps. No one accidentally arrives, but beings reborn as marmots go on to to live short marmot lives. When they return to their previous life or awake in their next life, they carry the knowledge of the marmot city within their marmot heart. No one forgets what it is to be marmot. Still, lost on marmot slurries, the reawakened hear indecipherable whistles and calls. “What was it like in marmot city?” “It was dark, crowded, and silent. Yet, I liked it there somehow.” “What do you mean you were there?” “No, not really. I only imagine.” With a piece of my marmot heart.

Rock slurries shrouded by mist. Paths cross through Lost known only to its denizens and even they sometimes lose their way. Marmots call out over the rock to locate each other in space. They eat mosses, lichens, roots, and flowers. Spring daisies and wild pansies blossom. In winter, tiny white flowers bloom. In fall, yellow, orange, and red petals protrude from the rocks. The marmots whistle and call. Travelers do not understand their language. Even those who stay among them and listen do not learn their ways. It’s uncomfortable on the rock slurry and there is little to eat — although the marmots are fat enough (they must find hidden fats in the rocks?). Most travelers are on their way to other lands. Some come to Lost from the Rejection Wilderness or Isolated Peak. Even the marmots brown and grey with tiny ears, ears, and tails are difficult to spot among the rock.

A trail winds through the woods to Isolated Peak, a barren rock peak in the Rejection wilderness. After switchbacks and turns, the trail continues through rock shoals and slurries and begins to fade. A thick mist passes, and it becomes hard to follow. The trail vanishes. Continuing upward, the traveler arrives at the peak alone. Companions likewise vanish. Policy decisions for Rejection are made by the lone happenstance traveler. Those seeking Isolated Peak are unlikely to find it. Lost, unwary Travelers find it best. At Isolated Peak lies a well-provisioned outpost and a guidebook mapping Rejection. At this outpost, travelers learn the secrets of Rejection and Isolation. Isolated Peak looks faraway from a distance, but once one gets lost, can be nearer and easier to arrive at than supposed.

Hiking trails wind through the national forest Rejection. Some are well-worn, some well-maintained and many are trampled and traveled, mainly by deer. Deer trampled paths wind through the woods under ancient evergreen trees and through forests of oak and maple trees. Acorns fall onto the pathways. Trails end at bluffs overlooking the sea. They ascend peaks through rock slurries. Hikers visit to meander and complete each trail in turn. They climb and descend peaks. They arrive and camp at lookouts. They take photos from the bluffs and storm clouds roll in. “I’m glad to be here and not out at sea,” they say, on stormy days. “I wish I were there on one of those sailing ships,” they say on calm sunny days. They sign the guest books at the Rejection trailheads and swipe through the pages looking for names they know. “Who has hiked here before me?” they ask. Every trailhead has a box for maps, but they are often empty. It is easy to get lost in Rejection. Many spend days wanderin...