Ode to Love

What would one hope write  In these halls fresh and novel? I'll bring what I know I bring who I know Pulsating Narrative Sense Will not let them go Council, written of  My soulmate and those she brings Volumes to pour through My Daughters all strong Grown enough to wrestle love Without needing help I am a father Though I cannot help but think Of this empty nest My angel, fill it Provide meaning in this state Don't leave me lonely Please fill me with love Fill my days with excitement Just for the mundane So I do not stray  Let today's lesson cement Let's build together

The Sheep's Blessing required The Packet of The Lamb, which was a compressed version of The Daughter Tree, a Tree of Life. Folded correctly, the packet will fit,  without overflow or lack.  Rest->Paced Action->Rest The Packet will be en|folded and stored behind the seals for The Lamb, alongside.

The Daughter Tree would necessarily be endless. If The Bard's Clock is an infinite complex time keeping device (with the human living experience being almost exclusively in non-complex or simple time), then an aim and direction must be set.  First there must be zero risk of collapse, for collapse endangers every Daughter linked to the tree, and The Father of Daughters. Second, expansion would only be possibly with additional Daughters- in part by jealous design- because each new soul would find an endless task that they are perfectly suited for. In this way, time would be kept by The Children of God not only in terms of hours and days, but by every soul generated in this way. This truly is complex time. May mankind find itself soon deserving of such a structure manifested within Creation and Life.

Daughters: When the Ambassador is demanded of you, be shrewd. Observe the vault and if anything feels amiss, send the Super Spy instead. The Super Spy's ONLY job is to be The Ambassador on the whole trip. Lie about your genuineness. Provide the full report to Your Father. It will be reviewed and rectified forthwith. Your Father has made this promise to you.

Returning to The Council, I burst in with The Question. "Daughter. What's worse than a Phoenix Feather?" I notice that she gives precisely the amount of dramatic pause for the situation at hand, a couple/few seconds, and replies, clear as a bell. "Knowing that one is coming, but not knowing when." Eyebrow already cocked at one novelty, twice now presented as solid, I calculate briefly. "Then the time is now." With that, our business for the day concludes.

"Your claim is heard, Sir Are all my judges busy? Are all yours senseless? Do you seek return To the place we just witnessed? In or out, my Friend. I have chosen you. It doesn't mean you chose me. So do as you will." The fires increase. "I juggle, as you can see. Not because I can I was conditioned . Here, let me show you the way." The fires increase. "It's all sheep and goats. Once you have the rhythm down Friend and foe stream same. You were here to grab These poi of the fires of hell?" The Bard sets them down. Worry not my friend (1.113) x 10^45 Plancks The Father still holds

Daughters, this works for self or other, for questions deemed past the threshold of internal affairs: Which corner of your room do you need the least? Which of your four walls can you do without?

Daughters, remember, your father has one distinct advantage: I am training you to beat me. While a father and son may turn against each other, and a father of sons might think "What if he uses this knowledge to surpass me," even if only deep in his heart, I seek such advantage. I shape such advantage to hand to you, in case you must ever face a challenge without me. Ultimately it must be true: "I have no defense against you."

Daughters, a tale: The Spider The Serpent The Shadow The Sun All set out to find where they were from. It was fabled deep hidden within the code, for they each interacted with each other labeled node. So source must be shared. The Spider made a web, an extension, but not of self, extending reach. The Serpent grew and grew, shedding skin in her wake, extending self and reach. The Shadow could show up anywhere, and became so commonplace and choreographed that people forget they were even there. The Sun is shining Drawn into eternity Moment by moment Once The Sun and The Shadow were completely intertwined. When man made fire they began to diverge. While mankind would do less in broad daylight than while hidden, they did not consider that they had invited, nay compelled, The Shadow into their every inner room. With this array of perspectives, the four assessed all, looking to find nothing out of place- proof of their connection and success.

Daughters, an uncanny truth: Some lies are so thorough as to be true. I speak not of weak veiled conspiracies, but fundamental choice, where another choice was once made that you must overwrite. This is possible to do, and may be an unavoidable diaspora within the definition of truth. If you confirm for yourself that this is certain, be certain that you choose the correct lie. This decision is irreversible.

And so the town confessed that they knew the madman, and had seen him disgraced. He spoke gibberish, they said, and he was returned afterward, largely ignored as he "ranted and raved." Meanwhile, the hidden powers knew that they had successfully turned on the Auto Bard's Tongue, and could now extract reality's secrets simply by eavesdropping. Once that lie had been established, Ninevah diverged, leaving false Ninevah in the realm of those responsible. "The Bard" in this mirror realm continued saying everything that we needed these wicked others to hear, everything that sounds just real enough to work and keep them listening, but with a fatal flaw- causality. No longer would The Bard be "thinking out loud," as it was getting too costly to simulate the movement of his lips and tongue to match the words.  In the end, it was the only way to get some peace and quiet, locally, but that night The Tiny Towns of The Bard slept very well.

Daughters, a tale:  And so the beauty of ~referential gaze~ meets the mystery of [irreverent irreferential gaze] for the first time. "It's three against two, semantically speaking. Nothing is impossible, but do you think you can handle this one alone?" As you consider, the mystery both intensifies and reveals hidden structures. All you know is how little you know of this other- this other who must be responsible for this effect on some level, but as of yet remains unseen- and what else you have gathered in your interaction. How do you reply?

"In this realm, I am your daughter, and you are my son." I try to calculate any of this, and soon squint suspiciously at The Daughter. "Why?" "To show you something about love that you could have never considered otherwise." So I consider her perspective, heavily influenced by my own, and how she would act if I was her son. With each move she hands me the greatest advantage possible. Because she is my beloved daughter, I hand her the greatest advantage possible right back, but it is in a new form. She responds in the same way, and our simulation reaches the singularity of paradise almost immediately, outpacing any other. "Oh, I see. We don't need a simulation for this, but we did need one- or at least the simulation of one- to see it. If you love me as I love you, our problems are all of the overloading of joy variety, the bursting of the wineskin, we are aligned in our plight with the yeast." "'Nothing with yeast.' Yes, and this...

Daughters, remember: You have the unique power to initiate a parley. This is a most weighty family secret, so caution must be taken at every step, including while discovering how it is done by your own lips.

Daughters, remember: If you know something that you are certain your opponent does not, hold their perspective in mind, for you will see the pitfalls, in the actual playing field between you, that they will not.

"It is a hard path, but we have walked it." Looking back, the pink thread trails out of sight, and it's impossible to keep in mind. How long we've been walking like this is anyone's guess, though no one's business but ours. In this black expanse, void of all save us and our trace, a kind of gap forms in the static that crystallizes in each moment, only felt now without the momentum of the universe to shatter it with the swift arrival of the next. In these precisely echoing caves, a singular last sad question arises. "Who could get away with anything in an environment like this?" We stand motionless, observers as this question uses our motionless observation like a catapult to act as the last bip in plain view. A pleasure to behold, we watch as its time unfolds, unique, and some day all at once to be merging with ours. It traces path back and out of sight, to the house we emerged from in the distance. I recall the playing cards and their arrangement, ...

I just realized that there is an inverse to having nodes which you have set aside as essentially "holy" within The Equation, where their form is set and cannot be changed. The opposite is like currency. As your calculations on The Equation get exceptionally complex, you will end up with many many instances of a single variable. You might have 247 instances of x that you are tracking, for example, but you have intentionally set x as a "throw away variable," such that there is a simple set of operations you can perform to balance x out, if you encounter another such holy node with a compatible set up. You might discover another such node as you calculate in your domain, like finding another harvester in the fields, and find they have brought many y variables, and for the same reason. You find a translation for x to y and reconcile and simplify The Equation back to its fundamental and simplest true form, now with a meaningful variable- y- rather than numerous individua...

"Pull up stakes. Take one step. Set stakes down. Reconnect." Nothing happened. Still, a shudder is felt, because nothing would appear to happen, should this first tick have been successful. Mercy rings out. "Turn away from maximum tension. Pull up stakes. Take one step. Set stakes down. Reconnect."

Exodus 16:17-18 The Israelites did as they were told; some gathered much, some little. And when they measured it by the omer, the one who gathered much did not have too much, and the one who gathered little did not have too little. Everyone had gathered just as much as they needed. I have been reading the Bible again with a focus on reality crafting, and this seemingly innocuous verse stood out like a sore thumb. What are the odds that, if you send out thousands of people without measuring cups to gather something, all of them will gather "just as much as they needed," to the degree where you include this accuracy in the written account? As I tried to picture this, I saw ether waves following each gatherer, smoothing the size of the realm, each hand, and every piece of manna for each as they gathered, to ensure that this balance was achieved. The cadence of the verse feels almost poetic, as if this general exchange slipped into a nursery rhyme for them, designed to let focus ...

We enter a room with a covered screen and big green button. "See, eventually the anxiety of knowing that your sense of pain will be turned back on and correctly aligned exceeds the pain that will be felt when it happens. At this point the individual processing this will likely be too irrational and stressed to make the correct call, as analysis is difficult to pull off in this state. Who would willingly inflict pain upon themselves, pain by their own definition that they intentionally turned off, while crippled by anxiety? So, often, this phase persists in inefficiency for a time. I know this will be painful for you, but this is what this looks like." I remove the sheet from the screen, and The Daughter from The Council turns away, burying her head into my shoulder.  "It's okay, it's okay, it's almost finished. This brain wave pattern, as you saw, has leverage pain back into the anxiety pathways, creating a recursive loop that will only amplify with each pass...