Zawmb’yee Paints the Palace


When I became an apprentice to Utcoozhoo and was given an apartment off the sacred corridor, I thought that was the ultimate privilege and luxury. But this little cluster of apartments and offices that have overt entrance doors are in sophistication a tiny fraction of what lies behind this secret entrance to the Kmpamew. There and beyond are where the actual elite have always resided. It seems to me there are levels of deception. Most of us have been lulled into believing that the world of our comfort zone is the universe, but mostly we are ignorant. Doug has walked down the sacred corridor and come to my apartment. I have let him feel that I had reached the upper class, but I have been a common and coarse acolyte who is dazzled by what could easily be a false magic, because I am never sure of the motives of any guru of miracles, or person of power. Some with powerful skills have no morals. Some with artistic talent express trivia.

I had been standing in the sacred corridor where I had meant to tell Doug to hang out and wait for me at my old apartment in the sacred corridor where he had been many times. I should have seen to it that I invited him to the Kmpamew but now he’s gone and offended. I wanted to cancel the day and go cry in my old apartment off the sacred corridor, but I had stood there stunned. Gavicte Yenkoi and Mieta Apacevj appeared suddenly in the corridor from some portal.

Apacevj was a short person with blond hair and gray eyes. But he was tall in presence, certainly more dignified than an elf, though he had a twinkle in his eye. I don’t know why I want to say he has a pixie nose — maybe because he looked mischievous. Actually the nostrils were on two faces of a rounded trihedron, symmetrical, in short, ordinary.

Yenkoi said, “Fevepo Zawmb’yee, I want to introduce you to your Mieta, Apacevj.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mieta Apacevj,” I said as he bowed and kissed my hand.

Yenkoi said, “If it pleases you, Fevepo, Apacevj would like to teach you how to open the door to the Kmpamew. May we proceed?”

“Yes please,” I said.

Fevepo Zawmb’yee,” said Apacevj, “as you have seen, it is possible to open a door with the ‘ka’ sound procedure, but that generally requires two people and it is a bit crude and noisy.”

“Yes,” I said, “we’ve had a few random stones come crashing down.”

Apacevj said, “Yes, that is typical, and that is why learning Upper Utd’mbts can be beneficial. Shall we proceed?”

“Yes, please.”

“Do you like the old sour pineapple?”

“Yes. Most of the ones today are too sweet and plain.”

“OK. Can you remember how succulent and strong the taste was?”


“Alright. There is a pineapple behind the wall. Picture it.”

“Yes, I see it.”

“If you would pardon my effusions, would you cut it lengthwise, not all the way through, open it like a book, and smell the mouth-watering middle between the covering and the core. It is a wonderful perfume that fills you with desire.”

“Yes, I crave to devour the flesh, and I am intoxicated by my anticipation for succulence, my pucker awaiting to fulfill a hanker.”

“OK. Now close the pineapple book along the hinge, and restore it to its original form.”

I was so hungry — an exercise in temptation, I thought, but I’d go with indulgence and a party in tart times. I said, “OK, but now you’ve made me hungry. Can we do this some other time — just open the door and the chef can make a …”

“No, no, no. Don’t lose focus. The desire is to be captured as an object. Now gaze at the rock and notice the change. See it?”

“Yes, it seems to be quilted and the divisions are orange and green … there are triangular husk-like drips over each section.”

Apacevj perked up. “Good,” he said, “allow it to turn more orange like a ripe pineapple.”


“Now when it looks like a pineapple, slice it lengthwise and open it like a book…”

“Yes, I feel like I want to rip it open.”

“Do it.”

“Ay ya oh uh,” I grunted and the door to the Kmpamew opened.

“Careful: Hold on to the action feeling and remember the feeling in all its aspects. You must cling to this eksetyk memory however subtle it may seem …”

“How did I …”

“You don’t have to know how you opened the door. Just remember the feeling when you willed it. You don’t know how you move your arm, yet you just do it. Conjure this learned eksetyk and a door will always open.”

“Um, uh …”

Apacevj closed the door, and said, “Don’t think too much. While this eksetyk is fresh in your memory, do it again quickly without thought.”

The door opened again at my whim. I said, “Did I do that?”

“Yes,” said Apacevj, “very good.”


Learning to Fly

We had walked across the landscape mosaics of the Grand Ballroom in the Kmpamew to reach the flying desk, my Reksipj, when Yenkoi said, “I think it is time for Mieta Apacevj to teach you how to fly …”

I said, “Uh, well…”

said Yenkoi, “I think you will enjoy painting a Gijlek on the ceiling. You must pass through the forest to get to the river…”

“Huh? Oh, the Reksipj. You mean how to make the flying desk move up and down… I don’t have to be a bird?”

“Well, no, not a bird, Fevepo Zawmb’yee, not today. Tiglekso.”

“Alright, OK, Gavicte Yenkoi. Very well, my faithful Regent and master of protocol. Proceed Yenkoi honey-babe Sir.”


“Oh sorry. I forgot we are to be formal…”

“Yes, as I’ve said: as much as I might have an affection for you under different circumstances, I can’t address you as the High Priestess Chick, and I’d prefer to be called Gavicte Yenkoi.”

“As you wish, Gavicte Yenkoi. Thank you very much and proceed.”

“May I leave you then to Mieta Apacevj?”

“Yes,” I said, and Yenkoi bowed, turned, and left.

Apacevj bowed and said, “This won’t be so bad, High Priestess Chickie Babe…”

I laughed. “OK. How do I do this?”

“Make yourself comfortable in the chair behind the desk. I will stand in front of it, and guide you.”

I sat down and sunk into the plush, form-fitting easy chair. “Mmm. Should I take a nap now?”

“Not quite. You’ll do a deep meditation and stay relaxed but alert, stay poised yet placid, in short, the mikwumpa. Alright?”

“Yes,” I said, and did some deep breathing for the mikwumpa.

“Picture the pfambuuwisen. Can you see it?”

Without effort the pfambuuwisen appeared. “Yes. The iridescent blue lights seem to beckon.”

“Good. Can you find the one that has an image of the Reksipj?”


“Allow it to expand and dive into it to explore and travel through every molecule and every atom. Tunnel down, deeper and deeper. Deeper and deeper. More relaxed and confident, and you hear my guiding voice soothe you. Yes?”

“Uh huh.”



“Now I will lift us all up into the air. Here I do it. Do you feel my effort?”


“Now join me in this eksetyk. Let us all together rise up.”


“Now open your eyes and see that we have lifted off the ground and are moving upward toward the ceiling.”

It was incredible to control a flying desk without being a bird, and I said, “I can do this?”

“Yes. I give you this eksetyk. Now focus and remember it. Now I will subside and you will continue. OK?”


We started to fall as Apacevj let go of the Reksipj, but I willed it to rise with my newly learned eksetyk, and we resumed the rise in the air toward the ceiling. “Did I do this?”

“Yes. Remember this eksetyk.”




“Now I will move us downward. Here I do it. Do you feel my effort?”


“Now join me in this eksetyk. Let us all together lower the Reksipj.”

“Uh huh.”

“Now I give you this eksetyk.”

“I’ve got it.”


And thus I learned to fly.


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