Sun pierces through the fog.

Bodhilama is squatting in the bushes. It is Sunday. Sunday's is the day off. They have compost toilets inside, but he loves sitting in nature when the big business calls. While pressing his muscles, he starres at the grass. When a cylinder-bearing turtle head comes into the frame, he is surprised..

Slowly, the turtle realises that someone is standing right next to her.
She turns her head, looks him in the eyes & opens her mouth:

"Well, the thing is, it's simple, but somehow different.
If you change the perspective, you might see it upside down.
But what is important to you, you will find, there, where the source is.
Beyond that, a swarm of fish covers what remains unseen,
dive, and a clue, a piece of an infinite puzzle, you will find, once the dust settles.
My words may not make sense to you, in the end, young boy, and that is fine.
This is your perspective, keep it as your treasury. It is yours and yours alone!"

She closes her eyes, pauses for a few seconds.
Then, out of nowhere, she tears her eyes open & screams:

"AND THAN TAKE IT, AND BREAK TROUGH IT!"

Bodhilama starres at the turtle as she continues her walk.

Time is passing but he stays still.

Without words, he starres at the spot where the turtle stood, hours ago. The moon is already rising when he wipes his ass & pulls up his pants. Pondering the turtle's words, he makes his way back through the forest to the sunny Inn. He goes to bed, but can not sleep. Somehow the words of the turtle broke something free in himself. He felt lightness, free from chains, but heavy because of the truth.

"Breakthrough the pink fishes?!"

He mumbles to himself.

"Where did I read it the last time?"

Following an intuitive hunch, he first gets his Gene Keys book out & than checks his hologenetic profile.

"So, when I connect the pink fishes with the old turtle,
separating the cloak of mediocrity and adjusting some parameters,
thaaan...... I get 42.6 out of it. That's my key."

This Key fits in his unresolved equations, and with that he could finally solve the bigger lock.
But still too much fog was going on. He needs to break trough it,
otherwise the equation would run forever, he had to move on.

To break trough it, he could use head or hammer.
hammer is easier to execute, but head is more safe.
As always, hammer is his first choice.
He went for a test run.

In the morning he has breakfast and, as usual, chats with Palda about politics, tokenomics and Palda's family. They drink their morning brew, which always makes Bodhilam a little dizzy. He only drinks half of it now, giving the other half to the sunflowers next to him. Marhta doesn't want to waste any of the precious brew, but insists on drinking the whole jug. While Palda orders his fourth one, Bodhilama sneaks the brew into the plants.

After breakfast, the two set off for the harvest. Today it's the turn of field B89. Bodhilama thought he remembered that they had already harvested this field in the past, but every time he tried to delve deeper into his memory he got dizzy in his head.

Already two months have passed, since Palda and Bodhilama came here. On the morning after their arrival Martha offered them directly to stay here and help her with the harvest. In the beginning it was a beautiful time, the sun was there, they had food, a soft bed, a lot of free time & fun. But now, everything is boring. Each day feels the same. Nothing is unique anymore. Nothing new. Everything is so mediocre.
And also the work seems suspiciously endless. It seemed like a cloak of mediocrity landed like snowflakes.

Marhta comes to bring both of them some lunch & juice.

Palda frowned his eyebrows.

"No ghee today?".

Two things this dwarf liked, brew and ghee.

"If ghee is not on the fish, it is
what you get in your face.
Ma' Fist!"

Palda chortled:

"Old saying from one of my grandgrandgrandfathers.
No reason to look so gloomy, Marhta!"

He laughed again and slammed his arm against Matthew's fleshy upper arm.

Marhtas replies only:
"Ghee is out. The cows are gone."

Then she turns around, plumbs into the grass and starts eating her lunch with jerky movements.

Martha's behaviour is getting stranger by the day. While Martha's meals initially exuded culinary sophistication, her meals are now boring, less varied and contain more and more carbs. Her voice now has a subtle but increasingly mechanical sound. Like, back in Marhta's brain, there is a tiny door, open only an inch, but the gap is wide enough for a small beam of light to shine into Marhta's hallway. It is a sinister, mediocrity radiating light. Nothing what you want you to creak trough your backdoor.

Bodhilama looks Marhta straight into her eyes & speaks:

"Within the void where numbers dream,
A whisper balances the unseen.
Infinity dances with the finite's sigh,
And shadows solve what light denies.
What completes the silent equation?", Bodhilama asked

Martha stands still. Something seems to go on in her brain. Something which doesn't make sense. She tries to make sense out of his question, but she can't. Something in Martha's brain flashes and a soft ‘bzzz’ escapes her head. For some moments silence remain. Then, out of a sudden, an alarm sound breaks out.

Bodhilama
wakes up.

These are the Letters of Bodhilama, a guy who lives in a time of transformation.
A guy who felt the urge to write, because nothing else made any sense.
A guy who is a student, teacher & creator of (wild)Planet108.
A solar punk finding his way on the game's journey of life.
Subscribe to become part of the stories he tells.
Subscribe to learn his insights he holds.
Subscribe to be part of it.
Just.

©️ All rights reserved to Bodhilama