There are those who are fighters..
... and those who are lovers..most of which tend to play both roles periodically..

And in between walking with that crooked limp, one hand outstreched towards you, the other behind they're back, fingers crossed, are the storytellers..

As the mind shimmers, incandescent candles of inspiration bubble to the surface in small pools of linguistic material..flickering flames of constantly rising and falling worlds waiting to incarnate through the action of play..of play..

..the world is a stage..and the actors..the actors..

Why have they forgotten how to act?..

Create..as the great pheonix of renewal rises from the ashes the actor leaps into magician...

Great world spirit cry's tears of sentint suffering and vomits concrete rivers of sorrow when we stop dreaming..why have humans stopped dreaming?

As the nothing approaches we inch closer and closer to the dead world..we killed the myth of life and all we tell are faint shadows of the faery tales that once colored the stage..

As the last wish of a dying unicorn slowy crystalizes in the form of a tear, falling down along it's cheek from the quickly vanishing living world of myth into the dead world, it finds it's destnation in the heart of every single child and from there the roots of a great tree begin to grow..

Great world spirit calls back all of us to become children of the living world once again..

We have forgotten how to speak to the world spirit...We have forgotten that "world" is a term relative to how we dictate it..how we tell it..what is a world without wizards, faeries and unicorns?..is what we gave up when we stepped out the great story into the world of de-constructon worth it?

Great mother calls us back..ayahuaca calls us..she needs new myths..new stories..a new way of relating to world..

Ayahuasca wants us to galactivate..I cant tell you what that means..if you know you just know

..BTW this was sopposed to be a trip report..Id rather just spit my brain at you then try to talk abotu this stuff at this point though..to bad I dont have that option.

A pleasure, as always.

Keep telling stores, fractal, for yours are alive.

that was so very enjoyable to read.
thank you

you made my day, dreamer

Something keeps us from stepping into the flow again... Having spent decades in separation, we grew these monochromatic eyes... Then we found those other eyes also, seeing a possible new world with those... but how to reconcile the two?

The world surely helps, bringing us to the brink of destruction, to the point where it all boils down to the final choice of the singularity, where the transcendental jump finally becomes a plausible option... switching realities? So frighteningly amazing... But I find myself unable to let go, I keep resisting it right until that last moment, so much afraid and insecure I feel. I still believe in and cling on something that is not, so I remain a partner in crime, a purveyor of the wasteland.

I hear the calling two.
Isn't it great that such magic actually exists?