Category Archives: LEA sims^^

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The Musician finds he’s teleported directly into an hitherto unexplored room tonight. Sweet. He sits in a rocking chair and starts to take it all in. Two pictures of men with their head in the clouds adorn the walls around him. A light bulb with a covering reminiscent of the spinning spheres in rooms previously visited hangs behind the chair. We’re above water now. Nothing is spinning. Head in the clouds. Definition:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Head%20in%20the%20clouds

This may represent living in a fantasy, as in being unaware of thoughts spinning around your brain. Your head is not present — obscured. Working theory, anyway. Let’s see where it goes.

The windows aren’t square in the room. This one, for example, is more kind of pentagonal in design. The Musician looks out at the rooms he’s already visited, including the one with the largest spinning sphere (top left) and the fear monster (top right). This is a dramatically different place here, however. More Earth-like. More normal. One could rock a lifetime away here, head in the clouds. The Musician must move on.

Hexagonal windows here. Perhaps coffin-like, even. But is it some kind of illusion? Are all the windows, viewed objectively, actually square? The room seems like the stuff of dreams. Paradoxically, the underwater, alien enclosures seem more real in ways.

No… do not rock too long here, Musician. You must roll.

Seeing that this room, all above water, is white like the half water filled room visited in the LEA11 04 post, I decided to take a comparison shot. The half water filled room still seems to gleam whiter. More heavenly, pure.

The “cloud room”, as we’ll call it for now, isn’t tethered or tied to the ground like the other rooms already visited. The tangles of kelp streaming down from it do not reach the sea floor. Yes: cloud-like.

Next (to the immediate east): 3 rooms stacked one on top of the other…

… but first The Musician takes a closer look at a pale figure riding an oversized, spotty pink seahorse, and fronting a large central structure from his angle.

And on the other side of same, a similar figure, but with a slightly different pose and on a pure white seahorse now. The Musician will keep these matching figures in mind when exploring further.

And then just panning around the area before returning his attention to the stacked rooms to the east, he finds this: yet another white figure, and with its face just above the water, turned heavenward.

We have another theme.

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A note on elevations here. All of the five rooms The Musician explored last night seem about the same size. Only the one with the monster actually sits on the seafloor, the other four being suspended by cables above it. The lower rooms in the two sets of two here seem at about the same elevation. But the higher room of the foreground set, the one containing the rotating spherical composite called “Anonymous Anxiety”, is about a half-room elevation *below* the level of the sea, while the comparative room in the other set, white as opposed to black as well, is set almost exactly halfway *above* the sim’s sea level. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that black represents types of fears here, and white is liberation from fear, or at least the ability to peer upwards from underwater concerns. I personally couch this in my own terms as Jasper (dark) and Newton (light).

It’s time to move on from these rooms. The Musician walks a ridge toward the center of the sim. Two stalks of bull kelp grow from it.

Looking around, he understands there’s a parallel ridge to his left of about the same height and length, with a small dip linking the two. Looking at them from above, he feels like they’re closing off the just visited rooms from the rest of the sim, somewhat similar to how Ear Canyon is separated from the remainder. Compartmentalization — he can dig it.

On his inworld map, he spots another avatar somewhere over to his left. He doesn’t want avatar interaction tonight — would rather explore the mysteries of the sim in privacy. So this steers him right for now.

He crosses the dip between the ridges…

… seeing that it turns into a deeper canyon ahead. Is it the same place he found the glass jars before? Is this the heart of the matter? He decides to wait for a revisit and keeps going straight.

So what is center? Well, for LEA11 it turns out to be that huge layered structure The Musician has already noted. Center. A place to work out from. He reexamines the object, walking all around it this time. He peers inside from above. Basically a circular or cylindrical interior, it seems. The top of the object just grazes the surface of the water. The Musician feels the artist is again making a statement with elevation.

Below.

Above.

He takes a look above water again. There a still a good number — *seven* to be exact — of structures at least poking above the surface yet to be explored, but none as white as the room already visited half in and half out of the sea. Again, the large, central object is not one of these.

The Musician decides to fly above, then drop inside the central structure, landing with a thud inside. He checks his guitar for damage — everything’s okay. He peers up, wondering how the interior could be a circle at the bottom and a square at the top.

Squaring the circle: a mathematical curiosity but with a deep psychological component. According to ancient alchemists, it is the uniting of opposites — male and female, black and white, good and evil — under one “impossible” rubric. Is the artist of LEA11 an alchemist? It must be so in some way.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squaring_the_circle

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I beamed The Musician into LEA11 and uncovered an avatar sitting at the lip of what I’ve been calling Ear Canyon, completely unofficial name mind you.

Well, it is an amazing view from this vantage point fer sure.

The Musician looks over in the direction of the visitor, just out of sight to his right.

He’s positioned in front of his own access to the same curvilinear bridge or road she sits before, the end as opposed to the beginning.

Shying away, he travels in the opposite direction, down a passageway cut from the ledge…

“Interesting.”

… to meet up with the mouth of yet another canyon. Holey camoley!

The Musician is somewhat relieved to find that the gorge merely leads around to meet up with the one exiting Ear Canyon. He has enough remaining to explore in this sim (!). He then spots the woman on the ledge again. End meets beginning.

Seeing the ledge path end at the entrance to the canyon, he decides to head downward and take in another cubic room, a black one in this case.

What he found within through remote viewing chilled him. A monster!

And barracaded inside sometime in the past. Good!

He dares to touch the dreaded, tentacled thing and recieves the following note:

Fear:
“If you are fearful of some event in the future
and all reasonable efforts to calm your fear have failed,
try worrying about it as intensely,
lengthily and specifically as possible.
The exhausting experience of worry, which is a kind of preliving of events
may well diffuse your anxiety when the event actually occurs.”
Robert Grudin, Time and The Art of Living.

So the monster represents fear, perhaps temporarily intensified in order to ultimately diffuse and render harmless.

For some reason, I think of the Oogie Boogie man of Tim Burton’s “Nightmare Before Christmas,” whom protagonist Jack Skellington unraveled like a ball of string at the end of the movie to save Santa Claus and Christmas itself.

Next up for The Musician is another black box, but with more innocuous looking, rotating geodesic spheres within of various sizes, all named “nerves”. The Musician finds they have physical form, but can’t succeed in pushing one into the hole in the center of the room. Perhaps all for the best.

Directly above this is a white cube, half underwater and half above. The Musician finds a pose ball within, allowing him to float in the water, looking upward through the roof hole toward the heavens.

He views his next destination through a window: another north-south room combo tied together by suspension cables.

Walking over, The Musician glances toward the singular room containing the imprisoned monster. Hope those poles hold up!

The lower room of the two in this case contains nothing.

But the upper one has another of those rotating geodesic forms in it, more a composite this time, and larger, almost filling the entire room with its presence.

It seems to represent information itself. Or perhaps thoughts. Thoughts that rotate all the time whether we are aware of them or not. Thoughts that lead to good and bad consequences both. Just thoughts.

He clicks on it and receives a duplicate message to the one attached to the monster next door. The object itself is called “Anonymous Anxiety”.

The two underwater objects are connected.

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As The Musician simply walks through this seeming barrier blocking the gorge from the rest of the water sim, he comes up with a name: Ear Canyon. Ear Gorge perhaps. It’s all these inner ear looking rocks that inspired him. And perhaps the fact that sound is muted here. *And* the fact that he ran across an “ear bar” earlier in the same day.

Nice — he recognizes where he is from the day before. Lowlands dead ahead.

The Musician is particularly amazed by this aggregate shape of differently textured, block-like sheets looming beyond the end of Ear Canyon. Walking around it, he simply can’t figure the thing out. Representation of a book, perhaps?

He decides he has time to visit one (but only one) of the underwater rooms dotting the lowlands. He realizes that the artist is making a particular statement here. The Musician will have to re-read the installation’s note and attached references in order to make further possible proclamations.

Black, grey, white; open/closed. Hmm. Pine cones? Pineal gland?

Another night it will have to be.

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The Musician is back in LEA11 surveying the waterscape. His tentative plan tonight was to hike along the bits of hilly land rimming the sim to procure different views of this strange, interior arrangement of cubic objects. But rain prims hindered him from using remote viewing very effectively along these sides. This is essentially a water sim through and through, and he cannot avoid getting wet much longer.

From his high perch, he takes a gander over at a the LEA sim conjoined with the southern edge of LEA11 — I believe this is LEA10. He wonders why the latter is so much lower than the former. He imagines a huge waterfall connecting the two where none exists. The Musician must get over thinking in mainland ways, where sims are all connected by Linden based topography. As far as he knows, all the LEA sims, which appear to number 29 right now if he’s reading his inworld map correctly, remain separate and unique from each other. Another way to look at it is that each acts a potential seed for an entire new virtual reality, beyond the Lindens and their mainland. And such is certainly the case here with LEA11. The Musician is visualizing a whole world from this seed.

He wishes to explore what appears to be a small cave on the surface, but turns out to be more bleedthrough from another LEA sim, this time the black color dominated LEA13 to the west. Nice rock arch, however.

Into the water he stumbles from nearby the arch. “Ah, this is more like it,” he coos, taking in the sights of an underwater canyon.

He immediately finds himself looking for a focus. Is it the poached egg shape plant illuminated on top of that tall dark rock?

Or is it that sticky out green plant positioned on the ledge behind it?

He jumps down into the bowels of the gorge to investigate further, and only when turning around spies the ladder leading up to a higher, clear passageway out of here.

After probing around a bit, The Musician eventually pushes his way through this passage to reach a perch overlooking the main underwater part of the sim, a large lowland that appears to be much flatter than the terrain he’s been exploring so far.

He returns to the canyon. What to name all this? Or does it already have a name?

Multicolored vegetation at the bottom of the gorge. The Musician remains very impressed by the color pallete used in creating the sim.

A more projecting rock (red coral?) greets him while he investigates the upper reaches of the canyon, furthest away from the sim’s center.

He finds he can lay on a nearby, flat grey rock. In fact, there are at least three “laying rocks” in the canyon that he’s uncovered now. Notice the alignment of 2 of these 3 with the more amorphous and larger rock at the top of the ladder in the background here. I also forgot to mention that although The Musician heard ambient music while exploring dry land, when he dived down into this canyon all native sounds suddenly ceased, but then were heard faintly again as he approached the lowlands (as he’s calling them) from that high passage. This is a quiet zone.

Using remote viewing again for more investigating, he catches another strange glimpse of a neighboring LEA sim. But in moving the camera up or down, the vision quickly dissipates. Is it a portal? No, he must keep from thinking such things here. LEA sims are monads and do not blend. This is simply an accidental effect, a curiosity.

The Musican still laying on the rock now far in the background.

Rock at the top of the ladder.

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