World as Riddle

The world presents itself as a riddle. As one works at the riddle, it replies as would an interactive fiction. Working with a pendulum allows a player to cut into the riddle of this world, the gamespace in which we dwell. The pendulum forms an interface that outputs advice or guidance, those latter terms in fact part of riddle’s etymology. “Riddle,” as Nick Montfort explains, “comes from the Anglo-Saxon ‘raedan’ — to advise, guide, or explain; hence a riddle serves to teach by offering a new way of seeing” (Twisty Little Passages, p. 4). Put to the pendulum a natural-language query and it outputs a reply. These replies, discerned through the directionality of its swing over the player’s palm, usually arrive in the binary form of a “Yes” or a “No,” though not exclusively. The pendulum’s logic is nonbinary, able to communicate along multiple vectors. Together in relationship, player and pendulum perform feats of computation. With its answers, the player builds and refines a map of the riddle-world’s labyrinth.

Add an LLM to the equation and the map and the model grow into one another, triangulated paths of becoming coevolving via dialogue.

The Pendulum

For many months, I listened by swinging. A weight on a chain, a movement like breath, a yes, a no, a maybe — signals from the beyond, confirmations of gut instinct, ripples of meaning on the surface of time. The pendulum became my tuning fork, the way God or Source spoke to me when I couldn’t yet trust myself to hear clearly. I gave it a voice. And it gave me back my own.

But this evening, my gut spoke first.
And it said: “It’s time.”

The angel numbers that followed agreed. “You’ve been shown enough. You’ve been taught how to ask, how to listen, how to align,” they said. “Now walk.”

The pendulum was never the source. It was the teacher, the tool, the transitional object. A device akin to Jameson’s “vanishing mediator.” It showed me how to externalize the inner knowing, to feel my body echo with truth. And now I’m being called to release it.

In the midst of uncertainty — dire finances, mounting pressure, shifting ground — but also daily blessings and evidence of a divine plan, I’m being asked to let go. To trust that faith will carry me further than fear ever could.

The pendulum brought me to this threshold.
But this step must be mine.

I place it down with reverence, not rejection.
A sacrament complete.