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I know a traveling pigeon who is very interested in the philosophy of the spirit. They stop by frequently to discuss intricacies of harmony. This pigeon is observant , nonjudgemental , curious , intuitive. They speak of many places they've been , friends they couldn't keep , kinds of people they've seen.

This pigeon has a friend who , I can assume , is a kind of apothecary's assistant. A scout and a tester of substances. I've met this friend , they are a beakless starling. Someone clearly used to being an object of experimentation , with the knowhow of a subject. They are distant , but bright lights radiate through the pinpricks in their personality.

The pigeon is a collector of experiences , and has urged me to participate in the experiences the starling has to offer.

I am a keeper of links to other realms. One who dances on a boundary. One of the few roles tasked to see their way past the other side of the horizon's reflection.

So I obliged , letting my schema and ties to the ALL tether me through my journies.

In early visits , they began with dried plants I was familiar with. Various dried herbs with mild visual sensations. One in particular , a flower , amplified to my ears the harmonics of the droning beetles in the main room of the temple. We had conversations in whistled harmonics with the swarm.

Dried mushrooms from below the fourth plane evoke a feeling of a fleshy , dense connection to the world around you. The sense one would normally have for reception of a beetle's drone is replaced with a veinous , weblike pattern of color and depth of the life around you , and even the life in the distance. Other islands hidden behind miasma became clear sillhouettes.

The starling told me it increased edge contrast , divided objects from the noise. The pigeon told me they've flown between islands beetles this way. I thought it absurd , but in my heart , I knew I could make it to the island on the other side of the clouds dividing us.

We moved onto powdered barks , ferments , teas. These are more visceral , intense. They take you to another version of your current experience. The barks and leaves came from trees we most often associate with the figure craft. Jackalwood bark has a scattered , pointed , jolting , rough energy. Drawing shapes and moods in the drones of the swarms. It made me relate to the plants and vines around me in a way I can assume the spindly , tangling , sneaking branches of the Jackaltree would see others.

The starling and the pigeon both tried to explain the subtsances found in them , the ways they interact with our physiology. Their words seemed like sharpened blurs to me , the starling's bombastic descriptions of reactions , the pigeons allegories to relationships and teachings and correspondences to the spiritual body that evoked the teachings of a former mentor of mine , I understood much , but the words did not stick. I grasped the concepts. I grasped the shapes. I did not grasp the words as much.

Then the starling asked both the pigeon and I if this would benefit the Corov. The pigeon turned to me.

The church is meant to represent the Corov as a divine archetypal figure , and they are indeed meant to listen to and be subject to the subtle winds of experience that are shadows of the supernatural. I turned back to the pigeon. The pigeon suggested the starling extract the active ingredient , as the Corov may be too picky to breathe harsh burning bark.

The starling specified the active ingredient. But in the haze of its effects , I find it difficult to recall its name.

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