#10 - When Don Raymondo Invented Big Mind: A Parable of Despair and Pride

Parable 10, July 25 2025

The Age of Listening

There was a time when the people of this land lived as though each rock and tree had ears, and every breeze carried messages from beyond the mountains. The wind did not simply blow; it had moods. The river carried old memories, and the sun offered warmth as a gift. The moon was shy, and the fire greedy. In those days, the world felt alive in every leaf and every shadow.

Among the people was Don Raymondo, the oldest and most trusted shaman. He could see minds everywhere and speak their secret language. Once, he kept silent through a long night, listening only to the moon, and she showed him the face of his unborn daughter. Another time, he pleaded with the river to spare a drowning boy, and at dawn they found the child clinging to reeds.

To Don Raymondo, these minds were neither good nor evil; they were ancient powers that could not be possessed, only courted with respect and humility. They offered help to those who listened with care and turned deaf toward those who approached with pride.

Ray and Mondo were not merely his apprentices but his adopted sons, raised as his own. He taught them the names of the winds, the hidden secrets of roots, and the ways to soothe a fevered child. He showed them how to see minds in everything that moved, reached, and endured.

“A thing that seeks, that bends and returns — this is mind,” he told them. “The river curves around rocks, never forgetting it wants to reach the sea. The tree lifts its leaves to the sun even when storms have broken its branches. The fire dances but always consumes the wood. The vine strives towards the sun. Our job is to listen to these minds.”

He was severe and demanding, but taught them well. For many seasons, the three lived in quiet harmony, serving the people without rivalry or suspicion.

The Famine

The famine came when the rain stopped visiting the valley. The deer disappeared into the hills, the trees stood barren, and even the roots turned bitter in the earth. Children grew weak, died with hollow eyes, and mothers buried them in silence, too weak for singing.

The people turned to Don Raymondo for answers. He told them the spirits were only sleeping, that balance would return if they could endure a little longer. But hunger hardens hearts and makes patience a heavy burden.

They went to Ray who said:

“The spirits are angry,” his voice a blade. “They demand payment for our forgetfulness.”

He called for sacrifices, honey at first, then hair, beads, birds, and finally blood. The people, desperate for relief, obeyed.

Mondo chose another path. By the river, he found a stone shaped like a resting woman. With his own blood, he painted a gentle face and spoke softly to those who came in grief.

“This is not a mind,” he said. “It is a place to speak, a place for your lost child to hear you.”

Some gave offerings of blood and bone. Others knelt by the stone and wept, finding comfort in its silent face. And thus, the unity of the valley unraveled.

The Conflict

One evening, as they sat by a dying fire, Don Raymondo investigated the flames and spoke with the sorrow of an old man who has watched his family drift apart.

“The spirits are patient,” he said. “They do not demand blood. You feed the people fear and illusions.”

Ray’s voice rose sharp and angry. “You are deaf to the spirits! You would let us starve while you whisper to the wind.”

Mondo spoke gently, as if to a child. “The people need something to hold in their hands. Waiting breaks their hearts.”

Don Raymondo lowered his head, his hands trembling. In that silence, he felt the weight of their scorn and the crumbling of his authority. At that moment, pride and despair rose within him like twin fires.

The Invention of Big Mind

That night, under the pale moon, Don Raymondo prepared his pipe with the bitter root that gave him visions. He smoked, fell asleep, and while his body lay still beside the fire, his mind traveled beyond the dry river and the empty fields. He saw the old spirits gathered, but they turned their faces away from him.

Then, out of the dark sky, a new figure appeared; faceless, immense, draped in a cloak of mirrors.

“I see all,” it said.
“I judge not only your deeds but your secret desires.”
“Your people must repent.”
“And you, Raymondo, will be my voice.”

In an instant, Don Raymondo understood the power of revelation, that of a single, powerful one mind above all others, one voice to quiet every quarrel, one gaze to unify a divided community. No more blood offerings, no more stones painted red. With Big Mind, there would be one command, one center, and once again, the people would honor his advice.

He felt it not as a spirit but more like a weapon. An invention for control. Dressed up in sacredness.

At dawn, pale and trembling, Don Raymondo declared to the people:

“There is a mind above all minds. It sees your heart and punishes not only what you do, but what you wish to do. You must obey or be punished. I will tell you what to do.”

For the first time, the people bowed not in fear of wind or hunger, but of themselves.

Abandoned by his followers, Ray soon left for the desert. Mondo washed the painted stone and departed for the coast. Their paths vanished like footprints in the rain.

The Age of Obedience

Big Mind, Don Raymondo’s invention, born from the old shaman despair and pride, was a thing of great shrewdness. The people obeyed it without question, believing it would save them, bring them together again, and spare them the waste of endless offerings and sacrifices. But beneath its promise of safety and order, lay a simpler truth: it was a way to draw them back under a single hand, to gather their wandering hearts once more beneath his rule.

But still, the rain did not come. The trees remained mute and barren, their branches stretched toward an indifferent sky. The people, obedient in their despair, followed Don Raymondo’s commands: they knelt, surrendered their wills, and bent beneath the silent gaze of Big Mind. Yet the famine did not break. One by one, people continued to die, their strength leaving them as quietly as a candle goes out in the night.

In time, they stopped asking what Big Mind wanted. They simply endured.

After Don Raymondo’s death, people returned to listening to the shy moon and the sly fox, to the whispering river and the trembling leaves. They began to sing once more to the many small minds that had filled their world with warmth and wonder. Yet, without guides to help them interpret their voices, they felt lost. At the end, tired of so much suffering, they abandoned the valley.

When the rain returned, no one was waiting.

Epilogue: Lessons Learned

With Big Mind, Don Raymondo turned away from a thousand quiet companions and chose a single, authoritative judge. Before Big Mind, the people listened to the sigh in the night wind, the face hidden in a seed, the laughter that danced with rain. After Big Mind, there was only one watchful eye above them, and no more small songs below.

In his longing for power and unity, Raymondo created a mind like his. A mind that was severe and unyielding. He forgot that the minds of the world are many and gentle; they offer paths rather than commands, and they ask us to live with patience and humility.

Questions for Reflection

• · What do we gain and lose when we trade a living, many-voiced world for a single, all-seeing gaze?

• Can unity born of fear ever nourish true community?

• What small voice in your own life might be waiting to be heard again?

• What would you invent to squash bickering quarrels in your own community?

Thanks for listening! Feel free to reply in the comments or send a message. Until next time—stay thoughtful.

If this story spoke to you, share it with someone.

© Iris Stammberger 2025 from “Grandma Loves AI” , A Short Story Collection