Diese magische Reise durch die Welt der Pflanzen wurde für größere Bildschirme entwickelt, um die volle interaktive Erfahrung zu gewährleisten.
Mindestbildschirmbreite: 1024 Pixel
This magical journey uses advanced Canvas technologies and complex animations that unfortunately do not work in Firefox.
Known Issues in Firefox:
• Canvas performance
• Animations stuttering
• Effects not working
Recommendation:
Please use Chrome, Safari or Edge.
Oryngham means thank you for listening in the language of the plants. It is not a word, as we humans understand it, because its meaning cannot be spoken – nor can it be heard. However, we can experience it by feeling with our bodies and listening to what our ears cannot hear. When we learn to listen to plants without the need to hear them speak, a language that we have forgotten emerges; it is a language beyond words, one that does not wander or pretend or mislead. It is a language that conveys its rich and meaningful expression by bypassing the household of our mind and directly connecting one spirit to another. This language belongs to plants, and so do these stories.
🦋 Click on all the butterflies to continue 🦋
Ridiculed, scorned, or deliberately ignored, the truth about anything is quirky and awkward when it first emerges. Germinating at the margins of familiarity, the seeds of truth are anomalous occurrences. Out of context—like invasive weeds that do not belong in the well-established terrains of cultural consensus— these anomalies become especially troublesome when they gather to the point that they can no longer be ignored. Then they pose a serious threat, that of undermining the confidence of the existing field, as their blossoming opens the mind into completely uncharted realities and extraordinary possibilities. Beware—these flowers are not for picking! Each belonging to itself alone, the knowledge they carry can never be taken, only gifted. The knowledge they gift can never be owned, only shared. Respectfully. In the end, all knowledge is only ever borrowed.
🌱 Click on the seedling to continue 🌱
Yardsticks uphold our judgments by measuring our common sense of reality. Sensibly positioned at the verge of the real, these edge markers stand proud in all their calculated brilliance. There, they ensure a traveler's safety by guiding a life's journey along the well-beaten path. Sentinels to our inner movements, they crown our minds and chain our hearts. And as a reward for our compliance, they keep us unquestioning within the tranquil confines of well-attended green lawns, bejeweled by the picture-perfect white picket fences of modern suburbia. All the while, off all beaten paths and beyond all fences, the wild answers of tall, rowdy grasses and boisterous weeds enliven the unruly ground of the unknown; with their dazzling colors and perfumed blossoms, these answers keep inviting questions to come and find them. The answer is there before we have a chance to ask what is there; it is the answer that beckons us to it, not the question. So if you catch yourself wondering whether you would stray off the path or jump that fence to follow your answer, know that you have been invited to dare.
🐝 Bring the bee to the flower – be gentle 🐝
No knowledge is ever lost; nothing can ever be forgotten. Carefully held by the trees, the memory of our knowledge is continually scribed by the land. How do we know it once more? We need to forget what we think we know to remember what we truly do know. We need to remember that memory, in its distinctiveness, is never a private something that belongs to one; rather, it is a shared heritage constantly reimagined in the body of the whole. Flickering in the space of experience between all kinds of relationships, memory is a dynamic witness to all relating. Our remembering of relationships mineralizes the bones of the future, the endless possibilities for the exchange of intrinsic vibrancies, growing afresh in becoming something of another. Hence, nothing is ever forgotten, only constantly re-membered from a matrix of information that sparks the future into present being. We are here to remember the future, reverberating whole galaxies toward us as we breathe in.
🪷 Move all the orbs to the flower 🪷
Gazing in and out of a maze of illuminated landscapes, we travel across the boundless territories of an electrified mind seeking the world. Invisible to the eyes at first, the world emerges out of the formless to make an impression on the canvas of our consciousness with the swirling colors of its dancing photons. Shining outward, brushstrokes of fragmented forms are stitched together into a seamless reality, born out of the mind and seen through the eyes of our imaging. What if we were able to stretch that imagining far beyond our eyes, letting our vision travel far wider than the brushstrokes the mind has learned to comprehend…? But how can we learn the art of seeing that which we cannot yet imagine? Vision is an art, and nature an old master painter teaching us how to see the underlying reality of things to be – before they actually are. Unleash the mind into seeing across invisible territories; then an amazing vision will bring the as-set-unmanifest world into being.
🍄 Find the mushroom and touch it 🍄
Hidden in plain sight, continuities elude us. Unnoticed threads that endure throughout the fabric of the universe, continuities ambush our tenacious proclivity to split the world in one or another version of itself, so that perceived polarities may be reconciled. By dispelling the myth of polarities, continuities release us from the unbearable, but needed, tension involved in having to make choices between absurd opposites. This tension is needed as a constant invitation to sense the presence of a glitch in our perception. Once this glitch is seen, continuities can deliver us right in the middle of an unnameable emptiness, where all polarities cease to exist, as they arise into the manifestation of each other. And it is by experiencing this paradox that we arrive in the middle. The middle—despite the common use of that word—is not halfway between here and there, beginning and end, birth and death, right and wrong. The middle is no place at all, but an undecided space that lingers between our illusion of polarities, containing them both and being empty of both, at once uniting and separating. Here we see it all, at last. Here and now we are free, at last.
💫 Draw 3 circles around the flower 💫
All the stories we tell seem to start long ago in some faraway place. Like a beacon of inspiration, they are the voice that reminds us of the place we are going to by showing us that we have already arrived. The path unfolds as a remembrance of itself, forward to the beginning, a point of origin where all timelines and dreamscapes join, dissolve, unify. When we truly understand that nothing really ends and nothing really begins, we transcend the story, all of the stories we tell of ourselves. When we clearly see the very nothing we have been pursuing far and wide, we arrive. This nothingness contains all the beauty and horror of our stories, which emerge as the dream we are having. And yet, intrinsically, nothing happens.
🖌️️ Make the letter disappear 🖌️️
Memories – in the light, our memories are washed away, and we forget everything we knew. We forget who we are. It is in the darkness that we know the world. It is in the darkness that we know where we came from. The darkness remembers us, and when we remember who we are, we return to the most remarkable nothing.
🔥 Burn the letter – the flower will help you 🔥