Oxygen Palace

Oxygen palace is where you’re soma feels uplifted- even resurrected afterwards. A place where fresh ideas might reach you.

With oxygen, we have life. Mitochondria does its stuff. Without it, life is snuffed. You may go in gray – but you’ll come out energized and refreshed. And without being spent-no hangovers or babies!

Each time we feel breathless, we drive respiration’s depth. Our inner light has striven enough- needs more than peering up and through masks and facades – never yet itself.

Now it must rest- and there’s a place for that too. Yippee another franchise! And you’ll see what I mean.

The oxygen palace is a big white building with 3 balanced ‘domes’- or a spire. Could have both. (Another source of possible franchise – multiple really- all will thrive.)

A spire can very effectively remind there’s always a place one can go for fresh air- such as the meadow of your inner sanctuary. Going to real ones recharge it. Seeing a spire one tends to look up automatically.

The oxygen palace is outlined in crystal blues with black calligraphy characters and surrounded by a tree grove. That’s it for earth tones other than green plants inside. Plants for their natural medicine- including oxygen and oxygen is piped in to super charge.The rest is l’Ove and light.

A huge globe stands turning in the atrium entering. Lights come on every time a baby is born – from the continent’s main power areas of economy.

(This is to remind us that the this 1-in-a-million star is Gaia’s next producer of tomorrow for his or her land. And where focused efforts applied there bring even bigger market effect to freeing and lifting a country’s economy- creating wider opportunities. My guess is this is Africa statistically- as the land of first fathers –and still divided into multiple individual states. They’re an ongoing study of how division leads to weakness and missed opportunities.)

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The oxygen palace is kept by a ‘maiden’ –one  untouched by motherhood’s worries – so good for a teen. Could be a crone too- one unafraid of his/her truth. There are male crones too – for sure. The latter share their sounds like crow- releasing truths from their cauldron and roots; the former doesn’t know better than their own biases.

Visiting, one changes into simple shifts and closed toed sandals.But they get to keep their coats.

Music is soothing- perhaps a children or adult’s string and wind ensemble – to provide a version of white noise. They get paid a small real money amount of token for their efforts.

You never know when an inspiration will shimmer as you watch innocence being applied hearts with hands!

(In no cence – unexposed to outside ideas; knowing a ‘how’ but with lapses and gaps waiting to be educed, bridged and connected. )

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There’s a spa atmosphere even though the décor is frigid. There’s a fern in every corner.

Polar white with faint blue shimmer. Snowflakes drop down and attach as decorations from walls and ceilings – each different and handmade – each enriching the atmosphere. And of all different colors .They are suspended at different heights. The room is bathed in disco ball snowflakes to create a surreal atmosphere.

One traverses the space as in a meditative labyrinth; with spaces for ‘alone time’ standing, sitting and walking quietly.

One must slow to keep the snowflakes from becoming too tangled and wildly twirling. They aren’t pretty that way.

 Despite this, the air has ambient warmth. noticably. So much that coats are flung open by the end of the experience.

Besides snowflakes, there are standing exhibits and dioramas of cool things – art installations – glass, fabric, metal and ceramic; areas with projected animations of nature’s wonders and marvels. Have a cafe with special Shirley Temples and teacake. There’s a library with new books written during SSaACC as well as an archives for literature from the past.

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There’s a temple of aurora- where lights illuminate as if you were really standing there- and you could commune with your interstellar guardians.

You’ll also find a hall of mirrors – such as in the amusement park. To remind you’re in a distortion of sorts –(though it’s lessening every day!!!)

Place least distorted mirrors at the end.

Use antique or recycled mirrors with minor cracks, mild- not gothic- delamination, and the like to remind what we see is less than even the surface of underneath. We persist- we stay in a frame; End with a wall of individual ones.

We metamorphose inside and out- reflecting how we use our face.

We continue to look like ourselves as long as we speak similarly. Language hones facial musculature. Practice smiling- often.

And lastly a bubble station- next to a star-building section, to remind of dreams, lofting, sharing and finally releasing as they thin and evaporate – which looks like ‘bursting’ as their vapor settles.

There’s a yodeling area – an open place with echoes. AI picks up your voice an reflects it back to you after a pause to remind one of lags and derivatives- and that your own voice haunts you the most- and robs you of fresh air as a result.

Blessings and Peas