Once upon a time, Great spirit took the form of Sky bird. It flew far, through many plains of being; planetary dimensions, and saw many strange and marvelous things.
Through sky upon sky: through many mandala gateways, the cosmic winds are slowly enriched with the countless vibrational blessing-cursing-flavours of untold psychic pollens from many lands. Each spore a packet of relative-information picked up from many and countless multi-, and partially-, located places.
Sky bird loved to feast on psychic pollen. It would sweep through streams of cosmic winds, and ruffling it’s feathers open, it would sift and siphon the subtle streams of mist into the interior chambers of its being. Gently pulsating each of its iridescent feathers in a cross-directional sweep that, in a single action, intersects with the realities of multiple types of pollen in one swoop.
Sky bird was greedy.
One cosmic wind was so saturated with psychic pollen; carrying information from all across the many dimensions of creation, that wind itself was a thick, almost fibrous, stream of mist. Its many strata arching off each other and shifting like some liquid metamorphic flow that crackled and shivered with power and quantum potential.”
“Yummy, yummy” thought Sky Bird as it dove into the pearly iridescent stream.
It was broad, and endless, and as Sky Bird entered it, it was as if it was soaring through a river of many coloured threads. Ruffling its feathers in a rhythmic pulsation Sky bird feasted on many strange and exotic packets of information. Each it’s own language, and each it’s own blend of measurements and subject – so that together it was like consuming a strange many-languaged tale: the best bits of countless endless subjective histories – that sometimes overlapped and sometimes didn’t – and that together modeled this ancient cosmic wind’s path through the cosmos.
Sky bird was busy digesting the not quite chaos of it’s meal – finding meaning and the presence of God in hard to see patterns of nuance in the sum flavour of the stream. Too busy. Sky Bird did not notice, that both it and the stream it was in, were being slowly carried into the whistling mouth of a heavily compressing manadala gate.
And that is how Sky Bird happened to emanate into the realm of the mocking telamon. In this place a small and vast temple that worshiped the permanence of permanent things. The temple was many rooved: roofed with many roofed rooves in an overlapping simple fractal that repeated a single boring rule over and over again – from bottomless most bottom bottom to the toppiest untopable top top.
This hideous layered maze-like tapestry of rooved rooves was ugly and offensive to Sky Bird. What kind of civilization would fear and shelter from the open infinities in the sky? Hiding behind this simple logic mesh to keep out mother-father mysteries – to hide in dark shadows of stagnating certainty… peww the whole place stunk of fixed simple rules and low resolution possibilities.
The many rooved rooves were held up each by many rows of pillars – all erected in a simple grid, in a single axis, that followed the simple rule ruling the fractaling of the rooved rooves. As Sky bird moved about the simple and ugly math of the temple to the permanence of permanent things, it started to feel watched and at the same time started to hear a low very subtle fraction of a noise, just on perimeter of subjective and objective; like the faint impression of some hidden thinking.
The more it moved, the denser the pressure of the weight of the sense of being watched became, until mere watching became the felt sense of being judged, and the noise of the hidden thinking rose a frantic whispering, subtle but too accelerated to understand. Suddenly the whole temple burst into a menacing laughter in an echoing fractal cackle before suddenly falling silent.
Sky bird stilled, and carefully, not daring to move further, only arched its neck up and around to look at around. Upon further inspection of the ugly pillars that held up the simple rule, he could see that at their height they bulged into strange symmetrical yet organic volumes. Hopeful of finding more organic math Sky bird lengthened it’s neck all the way to the top of the nearest pillar and saw that each pillar was in fact a telamon just pretending to be a pillar.
“What’s your game, joker?” asked Sky bird to the telamon – still feeling offended by the ugly rooved rooves. “What are you hiding from the sky for?” continued Sky Bird. Slowly the organic volume at the top of the pillar started to soften and transform. At first distorting, then lumping up – it transitioned from one smooth volume to what started to look like multiple volumes under a single skin – until the telamon face, features, and bust fully rendered.
“Who are you calling joker?” Replied the lippy telamon. “You, lippy” said Sky bird. ” Who do you think your are you little empty handed mover” cried the telamon indignantly – waking up the other telamon nearest it with its discord. “Don’t get angry at it, its got nothing to stand on, and nothing to hold up – poor beggar” said one of it’s neighbors. “Unroofed, and unfloored – moving here then there – and nothing in its empty little hands”, said another. “It doesn’t even have hands – can’t hold on to anything even if it tried” said one behind Sky Bird.
Suddenly, it dawned on Sky bird, that these native intelligence, that were both part of and expressions of the construct of this place, pitied Sky Bird for its freedom to move. Genuinely, felt sorry for Sky bird being unburdened. These telamon beings, hopelessly inured and inseparable in identity to the construct they inhabit, considered standing on something solid and stable very important, because to them, that was the most essential requirement to be able to hold on to as much permanence of the permanent things that they worshiped. They had both pitied and mocked freedom and burdenlessness.
try to heal him – by locking him in.
sad but needs to poo.
poo’s holes in reality.
nothing to stand on, whole thing collapses.
wind rushes in and sweeps away the world to dust.
for in eating and shitting pollen sky bird pollinates worlds into blooming dust – psychic pollen.