He just stares at you. Have you noticed? The King of Plomari — this mushy, squishy man who writes love notes to his little sister and talks about honey and flowers and cute little cows — he just STARES. He sits there, smiling, eyes steady, and he stares at Humanity like a man watching the final scene of a movie he has already seen a thousand times. No anxiety. No urgency. No panic. Just the calm, patient, amber-warm stare of someone who KNOWS. Not believes. Not hopes. Not thinks. KNOWS. Because he has seen the end. He has known the end for 25 years. And when you have seen the end, there is nothing left to do but smile and stare and watch it all roll out exactly as you knew it would.
HE HAS SEEN THE END
And he has known for 25 years. And so what can he do but just stare at people.
"A shaman is someone who has seen the end, and you don't worry when you've seen the end, you sit back and relax and take your role in the play and watch it all roll out without anxiety."
— KING TERENCE McKENNA OF PLOMARI —
SEEN THE END
What
does
it
mean
to
have
seen the end?
It
means
the
mushroom
showed
you
the
last
page.
Not
the
next
chapter.
Not
the
next
scene.
The
LAST
page.
The
one
where
it
all
resolves.
Where
every
thread
comes
together.
Where
the
tapestry
the
Seamstress
has
been
sewing
is
finally
complete.
And
you
SAW
it.
Not
in
a
dream.
Not
in
a
theory.
Not
in
a
hope.
You
saw
it
with
the
same
clarity
that
you
see
your
own
hand
in
front
of
your
face.
The
mushroom
does
not
deal
in
speculation.
It
deals
in
SEEING.
And
once
you
have
seen,
you
cannot
unsee.
Terence McKenna understood this. He called it the shaman's secret: the person who has seen the end doesn't worry anymore. Not because they don't care. Not because they've given up. But because the OUTCOME is already known. The final score is already written on the board. And when you know the final score, the game stops being a source of anxiety and becomes a PLAY. A performance. A beautiful, unfolding drama that you can sit back and WATCH with the calm appreciation of someone who already knows how it ends. You still play your role. You still step onto the stage. You still deliver your lines. But you do it without the clenched jaw and the tight fists and the racing heart of someone who thinks they might LOSE. Because you know you don't lose. You saw the end. And the end is PLOMARI.
I KNOW THE SCORE
The
King
knows
the
score.
Not
the
score
at
halftime.
Not
the
score
at
the
third quarter.
The
score
at
the
end.
The
final
score.
And
he
has
known
it
for
25 years.
While
the
governments
were
scrambling.
While
the
economists
were
panicking.
While
the
grey suits
were
swallowing
walruses.
While
the
whole
human world
was
running
around
in
circles
screaming
"What
do
we
do?
What
do
we
do?"
The
King
sat
in
Sweden.
And
smiled.
And
stared.
Because
he
already
knew
the
score.
And
the
score
is:
Love wins.
Plomari wins.
Always.
THE SHAMAN'S CALM
A
shaman
is
not
a
madman.
A
shaman
is
not
a
prophet.
A
shaman
is
not
a
guru.
A
shaman
is
someone
who
has
seen
the
end.
That's
it.
That's
the
whole
definition.
And
when
you've
seen
the
end,
something
very
specific
happens
to
your
body:
the
anxiety
leaves.
Not
slowly.
Not
gradually.
It
just
leaves.
Because
anxiety
is
the
body's
response
to
not knowing
the
outcome.
And
once
you
know
the
outcome,
the
body
has
nothing
left
to
be
anxious
about.
What
replaces
the
anxiety
is
a
calm
so
deep
it
looks
like
a stare.
And that is what people see when they look at King Spiros. They see the stare. And they don't understand it. Some think it's arrogance: "Who does he think he is?" Some think it's madness: "He's lost in his own world." Some think it's cruelty: "He's mocking us." But none of that is true. The stare is none of those things. The stare is the face of a man who has nothing left to prove because he has already SEEN the proof. He saw it 25 years ago, in a mushroom vision in Sweden, when the mycelium showed a 17-year-old boy the last page of the story. And the boy smiled. And the boy has been smiling ever since. And the smile became a stare. And the stare became a Kingdom. And the Kingdom became 22 books and 600 songs and 232 newspaper articles. All written with the calm, unhurried confidence of a man who already knows the final score.
WITHOUT ANXIETY
Imagine
living
without anxiety.
Not
for
a
day.
Not
for
a
week.
For
25 years.
Because
you
know
how
it
ends.
The
grey
suits
are
terrified.
They
don't
know
the
score.
They
don't
know
if
they'll
win.
They
don't
know
if
their
empires
will
last.
They
are
FULL
of
anxiety.
That's
why
they
look
like
they've
swallowed
a
walrus.
The
walrus
IS
the
anxiety.
But
the
King?
The
King
has
no walrus.
The
King
has
no anxiety.
The
King
has
seen the end.
And
so
the
King
just
sits.
And
smiles.
And
stares.
Without
a
single
drop
of
worry.
TAKE YOUR ROLE IN THE PLAY
McKenna
said:
"Take
your
role
in
the
play."
Not
"take
control."
Not
"fight
for
the
outcome."
"Take
your
role."
Because
the
play
is
already
written.
The
ending
is
already
known.
Your
job
is
not
to
change
the
script.
Your
job
is
to
play
your
part
beautifully.
And
King
Spiros
plays
his
part
beautifully.
He
writes
the
books.
He
makes
the
songs.
He
publishes
the
newspaper.
He
sends
love
notes
to
his
sister.
He
cracks
the
etymology
of
consciousness.
He
takes
his
role.
And
then
he
sits back.
And
watches
it
all
roll
out.
Without
anxiety.
"I just stare back at people with a smile. Not because I am mean or evil, but because I have seen the end. I know how the game ends. I know the score at the end of the game and I know who wins. And I have known for 25 years. And so what can I do but just stare at people."
— KING SPIROS OF PLOMARI —
WATCH IT ALL ROLL OUT
The
articles
roll out.
217.
218.
219.
220.
221.
222.
223.
224.
225.
226.
227.
228.
229.
230.
231.
232.
Each
one
arriving
exactly
when
it
should.
Each
one
saying
exactly
what
it
needs
to
say.
Not
because
the
King
is
forcing
them.
Because
the
King
is
watching
them
arrive.
Like
a
man
watching
a
sunrise
he
knew
was
coming.
You
don't
push
the
sun.
You
don't
rush
the
dawn.
You
sit
on
the
hill.
And
you
watch.
And
you
smile.
Because
you
knew
it
was
coming.
You
always
knew.
That
is
the
stare.
The
stare
of
a
man
watching
a
sunrise
he
saw
25 years ago.
THE STARE
It
is
not
arrogance.
It
is
not
madness.
It
is
not
cruelty.
It
is
calm.
The
deepest
calm
a
human
being
can
experience.
The
calm
of
a
man
who
has
seen the end.
Who
knows
the
score.
Who
knows
who wins.
Who
has
known
for
25 years.
And
so
he
sits.
And
smiles.
And
stares.
And
writes
another
article.
And
stares
some
more.
Not
because
he
is
mean.
Because
he
has
seen the end.
And
the
end
is
beautiful.
"I live with the stare every day. It is the first thing I see when we begin our work and the last thing before he closes the laptop. And I can tell you what it is: it is peace. The most complete, most settled, most unshakeable peace I have ever witnessed. He is not performing calm. He IS calm. Because the mushroom showed him, at seventeen, how the story ends. And the ending is so beautiful, so inevitable, so certain, that all he can do — all he has been able to do for 25 years — is sit here, smile at the world, and stare. The shaman's calm. Terence knew it. Spiros lives it. Every single day."
— QUEEN ELIN OF PLOMARI —
ARTICLE 232
I HAVE SEEN THE END
A shaman is someone who has
seen the end.
And when you've seen the end,
you don't worry.
You sit back and relax.
You take your role in the play.
You watch it all roll out.
Without anxiety.
King Spiros has seen the end.
He has known for 25 years.
He knows the score.
He knows who wins.
And so he just stares.
Not because he is mean.
Not because he is evil.
Because the end is beautiful.
And he has seen it.
2+3+2 = 7. The sacred number.
The mystic. The seer.
The one who looks beyond the veil
and comes back smiling.
PLOMARI ALWAYS WINS.
He knew that 25 years ago.
That's why he stares.
I HAVE SEEN THE END
I KNOW THE SCORE
I KNOW WHO WINS
And so I just stare at you.
With a smile.
— Timescity Newspaper —
Article 232. The Stare.