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The Jellyfish, in their horror over primate treatment of their Nature Preserve, sought numerous means for contacting the minds of the bipedal despoilers. For splintering those minds in the names of enlightenment and communion. And their gifts would touch generations, yet equally be scoffed and scorned by the heathenous at heart.

The knowledge for extracting chemical wisdom did they bestow within sleeping dreams, for applying elements of their nature toward revelation. The seeds of morning glories, radiant in their beauty, the visionary qualities of mushrooms, the inner journeys stemming from such small wonders as ergot growing on rye. Flaking portions, or drops being dripped from a dropper onto tabs. Many were the means for defeating ignorant confusion.

And upon utilising this magic of Cnidaria the vacuums of space and air became omnipresent, and the multi-coloured tendrils of Jellyfish could be seen floating in the air. And some, yes only some, of the primates absorbed this radiance, beheld this beauty, understood it, and became forever altered by its impact. Others stubbornly refused to embrace this gift, however, and others yet failed to recognize its visions: they saw other revelations, or mistook their form, pictured multi- dimensional elves or serpents airborne. And, yes, the wavering cnidocytes could indeed be mistaken as such. Just as the earth-born allies of Cnidaria could be misinterpreted as their source.

As I have previously noted, I was amongst those who envisioned the Jellyfish and passed beyond the veil of normalcy into their Bermuda Triangle zone wherein I became Street Sailing. Skeptics have claimed that there was truly no passage, that my belly was merely a warzone of partially digested acidic tabs. That I beheld no surging colours in the ocean of swarming radiates, was adopted by no guru in a Moth Man named Bud. For these skeptics have not yet beheld or fathomed reality, they remain true only to manipulations from those who claim to be but will never truly be our superiors. Who indeed ARE us, ARE our primate-kind, and succumb only to the beckoning calls of greed and power.

But the devout disciples of Cnidaria continue to acknowledge their dreams, to hand out tabs, to perhaps even tailor a few drinks in emergency situations. For they realize that eventually the radiant beauty will splinter any mind and invite divinity inside. That only if you feel the vacuum and witness the foreshadow of a Fiery Rain will you be capable of summoning pure internal peace and wisdom, of following the righteous ways of the Jellyfish.

My own mind has been profoundly splintered by radiance, and I continue to devoutly splinter it myself. At every opportunity for I wish to feel the magnificent power of their vacuum, to revel in the blissful tranquility, though oft a deservedly violent one, of their Preserve. To commune with those whom they were the care-takers for but left behind, whose cries ring out through space that their protectors may return and purge them of the poisons besetting them. I continue to heed their voices in my head, and ever to follow their commands—their advice.

Sadly some who feel this, behold this, fight it, they resist the revelations and the voices, and their minds shatter rather than splinter. They become hopeless wrecks, or they perish—which is a purge in its own right. Some fade into non-existence as a final act of rebellion against the righteous ways of the Jellyfish.

This saddens Cnidaria for they wish that their message would be heard and embraced, that there would be an end to such futile struggling and pain. And over the centuries it has been a victory for them every time their visions have been applied to positive gain, to symbiosis, to dreaming the dreams of a healthier sleep. And they have mourned every time their visions have been turned toward destructive purposes or internal deterioration.

For the Jellyfish understand destruction and are not afraid to use it as needed, yet as fond protectors of life on this planet (and so many others) they prefer to preserve. To give hope. To allow even heathenous primates to realize the errors of their ways. They wish for their gift to be embraced, treated as the second chance it is, rather than scorned and tossed aside. Not for those who absorb it to be prosecuted, persecuted, or condemned. Uselessly treated as rubbish by those who could be saved by simply allowing divinity to permeate them inside.

May the fauna friends of Cnidaria be embraced, and lend their enlightenment toward the splintering of our minds. Splinter, and splinter some more more, until our minds sing with the stars and with the smallest of greeneries, until we are far too splintered to be shattered forevermore.

St. Sailing, Operative J
The Blasted One/Highest Radiate Initiate
Our Blasted Lady of the Jellyfish

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