Ask Dr. Druid . day 28 . The K1 Project part 1

Ask Dr. Druid . Day 28

The K1 Project part 1


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   Gleek and Rat Tooth glanced at each other with that fierce wry which was the psychic wampum between them. Dr. Sal Iva was outlining the Milk Team’s upcoming billion-year K1 Project. From the galactikally gigantic sweet home-sea of hula-sloshing and mesmerizing holorealitys which formed and transformed with the lyric of thought, the Milk Team was damned determined to sculpt a K1 stable dimension. A place, the first place really, where things were not air in weather, did not mogrify at whim.

    That this notion strained galactik credulity, was scoffed at and reviled is part of the Chronicle. Sea people greeted the idea of a ‘solid,’ sturdy, stable. K or Kinesthetic with the derision that sleek and gliding sea-bound fish later greeted the clunky and dread-fomenting  idea of horribly and cruelly lurching around in thin air on dry land on dear Earth. How truly awful. What kind of loonland weirdoes would want to do that?

    After the initial busted-beehive furor, the Milk Team devised and revised evolutionarily in a backwater dimension field where nobody bothered them for the best part of a billion years.

    Long long before K1, the glory of 90% of the manypoem rhapsodic interwoven galaxys songs was the hulasweet plasticity of thought and stuff, its high K, its mogriffity. It was like weather and mood made manifest. It was a deep and effervescent glee to dwell in these blessed, dreamy galaxys of ultra-infra-radiant leisure and pleasure of being.

    In the Periodic Table of Psychik Elements, Ferrus had discovered Irony, that element which saved people from treacle sentiment and from despair. Like men had the enzyme testosterone, clowns or gleeks had irony. They could mock themselves which most people would just as soon stick an icepick in their left eyeball as do.

    In honor of her discovery of the psychik element Irony, Ferrus was vouchsafed the title of the K ranges Scale. The Ferrus K Scale indicated the intensity of persistence in matters of matter. It all matters. A slight from your beloved probably matters more than stubbing your toe on a stone. This chapter cannot detour to elucidate all the textures and meteorologies of the Ferrus K Xcale, but the curious can find more at Appendix I.

    Why did a gang of master metamorphs get so obsessed with the grail of K1? (Kzero is always talked about in hushed tones of ecstatic terror so we’ll leave that to Appendix I.) K1 is the remarkably stable dimension of pleasantly predictable and persistent kinesthetic. K11 is the remembered rainbow, a legerdelight, an illusion within an illusion. If you saw the rainbow with your beloved on a zephyred afternoon in the Month of Ripening Pumpkins when the air by the sea was nuage soft as two pelicans skimmed just above the wave tips, a K11 could matter a great deal to thou, but its K1 solidity or persistence is ispso facto evanescent.

    To weave temporal and locational stuffs together and not have them giddily, gleefully, glimmeringly mogrify was and remains a physio-psychic engineering task of astonishing ingenuities. Think of sculpting a statue of water – the damned stuff won’t stand still! Until you persuade it to, charm it to be ice, it’s a seemingly hopeless and wet task.

    Getting stuff to remain sturdy, still, and steady, under the onslaught of thought rage, blandishment, and bludgeoning that those accustomed to higher Ks would cast at the K1 creation was a fabulous feat. Stuff naturally wants to mogrify with the winds, the tides, of mood and desire.

    Entering one of their early experimental K1 spheres, Dr. Sal Iva, Gleek, Rat Tooth, and Ferrus all got the bends upon return to K5.5, the home dimension for most master metamorphs. They all almost died as the lethal champagne of so much less K boiled in their blood. Manipulating semi-permeable membranes is the name of the creation game. In the blackground, the black screen stuff gets real to one degree of K or another.

    Comfor Table, an apprentice metamorph, a fledgling gleek, saved them all by telling a flurry of holojokes, little acted hilarious silly scenes which made them laugh so hard that their bloodstorms became katotl tatotl again. (The knowledge & tranquility of the moon or lune or luna, the truth & tranquility of the moon,  a pearlescent talisman as soft as moonlight on your face in the face of grief or otherwise impenetrable darks; an elf promise, like Galadriels’s vial of elflight for Frodo, a light for when all other lights go out.) Katotl tatotl — there has been hell, there will doubtless be hell, even soon, but now is an oasis of such dear beauty, such sweetness of dates and of honey, that place in your heart, that Avalon, that island of apples. That healing, as deep as whale song. The pearl of <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = “urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags” />midnight moonlight falls as soft as snow and melts nuagewarm onto your upraised face.

   What most of us don’t grok is that the Milk Team spent that billion years asking, coaxing, beguiling mogrificants, holohula stuff, to participate in the K1 experiment. Our familiar realm could dissolve back into the salty sultry sea of the wave realms of molasses-sweet becoming-into-becoming wherein most stuff dwells in spangled languorous harmonys. Yet for you here, the wall is willing to stay the wall, your weight-bearing feet to walk for year after year. Your reverence for K1 would be alert, keen, complete if you had a clue what ontological miracle of collaboration was being wrought and sculpted out of the vast AllWays so you could have this precious experience where you can itch and swallow, eat a kumquat, and view a kangaroo.

    Remember the Norse story of the beautiful and mild Baldar. He was so beloved by all of creation that it was a game to throw a rock at him, and in order to do Baldar no hurt, the rock would swerve and fall  harmlessly at his side. All things on Earth had been searched out one by one and told of Baldar’s sublime, sweet mildness and to do him no harm. Loki, however, the sometimes mischievous, sometimes wicked, the wild card, the coyote, hunted out the single thing on Earth which had not been whispered the sweet secret of the blessed Baldar. Hidden high in the topmost branches of the great oak, the mistletoe alone was ignorant, untold.

         At a festival when everyone was pelting stones and lances and every manner of missile at Baldar, and at whose goodness all things turned aside from harm, Loki secreted under his skyblue cloak a dart of  mistletoe. With the heat of all his envy, he flung the terrible dart into the left eye of Baldar, and the unknowing mistletoe slew our dear Baldar thus.

    In a happier tale, similarly, the Milk Team sought out each thing a world would want and cajoled it into, in interlaced enchantment, playing its kinesthetic part for the allotted and necessary time for the K1 world to work. Like a great holographic dynamic hieroglyphic song, the leaf notes, the cat’s whiskers’ notes, the guffaw notes, the strawberry notes – the cosmic symphony is composed for you if you would but hear.




.. wampum .. wampum is the bead medium of currency, transactions of value for North Turtle Island originals. Turtle Island is what white, rabidly monotheist invaders call, imperially, America. Wampum has an aesthetic component that invader money abstracted out. Wry is a wampum, a stuff of value which the new physics must deny but which is as real to Gleek and Rat Tooth as a flash of lightning. Ah, again we see evidence of how we need both science and psyence.

.. Milk Team .. ‘Galaxy’ might be called ‘Place of Milk.’ Once after billions of years, TheAll began to include more splotches or patches, Sargasso Seas of K1, the Seers (those who could see) imagined the vast splashes of stars by the billions dreamily kaleidoscoping to look like spilled milk. So the inventor/explorer Team that crafted the grail of K1 stole the Milk moniker for grins.

.. mogrify .. transmogrify had notes of transmute, modify, transmigration. But ‘mogrify’ is the element where the droll and awe lie. The sluggy larva mogrifys into the impossible heartbreaking glory of the flutterby. You must perceive them as an unbroken sequence of mogriffity or becoming.

.. katotl tatotl .. “the knowledge & tranquility of the moon,” the truth & tranquility of the moon, The Amahuaca, Peru. p. 142 Shamanic Voices for the quoted phrase;

.. Ferrus .. ferrum is Latin for iron.

.. gleek .. a gleek is a jester.

.. manypoem .. multi-verse = many-poem.

.. treacle is saturatedly sweet; implies exceedingly sweet & sentimental; pron:tree-cull;

.. metamorphs .. cf metamorphosis, transformation masters.

.. zephyr .. soft mischievous breeze.

.. nuage is French for cloud; pron:new-ahhjuh.


Ask Dr. Druid, 66 Days from Lead to Gold, Secrets of  Alchemy You Can Use, a druid shaman’s playbook .. Intro; Prologue; Day 1; Days 2 & 3; Day 4; Day 5; Day 6; Day 7; Day 8; Day 9; Day 10; Day 11; Day 12; Day 13; Day 14; day 15 Review 2; Day 16; Day 17; Day 18; Day 19; Day 20; Day 21; Day 22; Day 23; Day 24; Day 25; Day 26; Day 27; Day 28; Day 29;


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4 thoughts on “Ask Dr. Druid . day 28 . The K1 Project part 1

  1. Great entry Mr. Poglbog. I'll be thinking about the concept of “mogrification” for some time.
    I'm all for reviving the Norse Gods, they're way more interesting than the Biblical one. for one, Loki seems to be the product of a culture with a much deeper understanding of the ways of the cosmos and human nature.

  2. Thanks for the visit, cl. As we slide down the slippery slope into the ontological Sea of Multidimensionality, mogriffity will get a whole lot more familiar and we will dare more. A reason we start our druid adventure with AllElse rather than the Book2 People is that shamanic labyrinthining among worlds can be damned dislocating if you aren't gloriously grounded in your home-AllElse.
    Monotheism is great for mundane Power. Horrible for psychological panoplyesquespitude. Monotheism takes the juice AND [darkest] humor out of art, as just one of its odious Sins.
    ps. ontology/ontological is about the nature of being –much more various than we wuz taught in your ordinary school (or church).

  3. “in interlaced enchantment, playing its kinesthetic part for the allotted and necessary time for the K1 world to work” — I'm grateful to the Milk Team for cajoling the dreamy hula stuff “in interlaced enchantment” to be a world for us. I must, I see that, be immersed in gratitude as I am immersed in a cajoled world. I also see, pogblog, that you are not going to let us escape from this gratitude and delight. It's especially stunning because you clearly see the bestiality of war and other appalling injustices of the Bush Cheney crowd. It's not as if you're blind to what might make others cynical.

  4. Thanks for the visit, iotas. You can see why I don't take on war head on til Book 3. The grounding in AllElse means you can have a delicious life and despise the insane warmongering. Despair, they win. I think they feed on it actually — but that's Book 3.
    In the meantime, consider how improbable this K1 feast is and swoon.

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