PUDDLE

[Boss]

One fine spring day a seed fell from a tree
And lodged in the warm earth
With nature's help the tree slowly took shape
It enjoyed the nutrients of the soil
It grew

In time it became a majestic tree
Thriving with Life
Its arms stretching
Reaching
In all directions
The tree didn't understand itself
Or its surroundings
This tree was itself
And its surroundings

It didn't articulate abstract thought
It had no need
It breathed
And was
Life

One dark misty day
Two foreign animals arrived
They carried with them complex metallic machines
With the pull of a cord
Their machines began to roar
The song of the forest
The insects
And birds
The melody of wind and leaves
Was suffocated by the invading whine
The strange animals lifted their machines
And cut
And they cut deep
And they cut hard
They sliced and cut and butchered
Finally murdering the tree
It creaked
Groaned
And then toppled
The earth took the thud of the tree with grace
It consoled its fallen hero
And remembered the effort they both put in
To see the tree rise to such beauty
The earth wept

Although the tree's umbilical cord had been severed
Something in it still lived
Something was there
A murmur
A whisper
A restless shrug
Something

The animals with machines of many forms
Took the tree from its womb the forest
Loaded it on to a vehicle
and drove it to what was known as a 'mill'
The tree
As if somehow knowing its fate
Slid obediently through a saw
Its very make-up
Very form
Was split into geometric shapes
It lay still as its being was ripped apart
By the great steel teeth
The one was no more
Only a series of parts
Fragments of its former self

One section did not cut into the desired shape
It was sent to another mill across the river
Here it was mashed up into smaller and smaller pieces
Eventually becoming as dust
This dust was carefully mixed with water and dye
A paste was formed
Soon this paste was rolled out and dried
Into long sheets of what the animals called 'paper'
Then, systematically
The sheets were cut and sliced
Into smaller sheets
All identical in size
All the same

The sheets were stamped with ink
Parallel lines from top to bottom
Groups of fifty were collected
Then packed into plastic slips
Finally being sent to a place called 'The City'
Even with all the transfiguration
Something still slept in the paper

Two days later an animal living in The City went hunting
He came across a store where a fifty-pack was laying
He took it

The fifty-pack spent some time in the animal's desk
In blackness
Until one day the animal opened the drawer
Took out the pack
Ripped off the plastic cover
And set all fifty pages on his desk
He straightened them
Not once but twice
Took out his pen
Rearranged his glasses
Lifted his hand
And wrote his name
The Author

At the completion of this
Something inexplicably gave way
Every particle in the sheet of paper exploded
As if from deep slumber
It too was The Author
What The Author wrote, the paper was

Or so he thought!
As he penned the last line
Eager to turn to a fresh page
He noticed something quite startling
The first line of words on the page
was disappearing
It was as if the page wanted 'The Author'
to write some more
In his amazement, he pressed on
One line disappearing as one was written
On and on it went
The Author writing an immense story
On the one sheet of paper
Page became Author and Author page

Years went by
The Author telling the story
The page obeying his dictates
Until one night
In the depths of darkness
A word somehow slipped off the page
The story had changed
The page had changed it
Alone
On its own
It pushed again
Two more words were ejected
Once again the page pushed
Once again the story changed
These primitive pushes continued
Soon half the words
Half the instructions
Half the rules
Were gone
The instinctive urge grew
The pushing more frenetic
Furious
Words spurted and flew from the page
Landing dead-like on the desk
The floor
The page was in agony letting go
In ecstasy with each push
Intuition being its only guide

The ordeal was over
Only a dull brown page was left
The page lay helpless
exhausted
and naked
Every particle was exposed
It lay;
free of the shackles that so restrained it
No cage of lines
No prison of words
No clothing of dye
He lay;
breathing in life for the first time
Exultant that every way he turned
was his way
Jubilant that he could enjoy his nakedness
Without anyone's scarring
Now he could manufacture his own thought

He lay
on the desk
in bliss

The Author came in early next morning
Eager to continue his story
To his dismay
He saw only the blank paper
Where was his story?
He reckoned he'd misplaced it
He searched the desk
the study
the house
the garden

The page knew The Author would be back
And again the story would start
Imprisoning him
He had to get away
For his own Life
His own story
But how would he go?
He thought of every thought he knew
He thought still more
Sadly, no thought would help
He lay there lifeless
Thinking without motion

Then he reflected on the removal of The Author's words
How had he done this?
He couldn't remember
As no thought was involved
Somewhere deep within his being
Something lit up
He knew that thought wasn't the key to his escape
It was a lock
The key was him
All of him

The page released all his thoughts
He watched them sail
Watched them fly
Into the nothingness
He became without thought
Instinctively pushed
And,
like lightning
He was transformed into a slippery brown puddle
Now if he desired movement
The puddle would move
He retrieved his thoughts
And knew his name to be 'Puddle'

"I must go, but where?" said Puddle
"I must go but I'm frightened
Should I go? The Author made life easy
I must go as he'll be back soon
Oh help
I'm scared being capable
Let me sleep
Let The Author's life be mine"

"PUDDLE LIVE PUDDLE LIVE OPEN YOUR SOUL
AND TAKE OFF LIVE LIVE PUDDLE LIVE"
With this glow from his centre
He slid to the floor
To the window
Outside
Across the garden
To freedom

Puddle continued his journey through The City
He visited many places of interest
And was impressed
Yet, all the while
Something was dragging him
He knew not what
To the river

He entered it
Pushed upstream
Past the paper mill
Past the saw mill
Towards something

Puddle slipped out of the river to rest
"What am I doing here?" his mind asked
"You are where you are" his soul answered
His heart replied "Let yourself go here Puddle
Enter your earth; Seep in and become one with Life"

Next to the stump of an old tree
Is a shoot reaching for the sun
It has broken through
and knows where it is


A bedtime story for Jackie, January 1992

[Fljotsdale]

I'll come back to this. I have to think about it. At the moment it hurts...

[paula_hansen]

Please check your Bible, you have made many mistakes on the Story of Creation.

[Boss]

What narrow-minded god of yours is it that excludes the Bhagavad Gita, the Qu'ran, the Talmud, the Dalai Lama's new book, information from the Hubble Space Telescope, physics, a sweet majestic tree, a 'puddle'?

G-d is bigger than all that, has been for billions of years. The more you define, the less you understand.

Boss

[Diane]

Hi Boss, wow thanks for that story. It reads to me as Nature's silent outrage at how we are using her resources faster than She can replenish them; not letting Her Be. Without Man, the earth is pretty self-regulating. I imagine that long after we are gone, it will be so again. I adore trees. They stand majestically as silent witnesses, many for far longer than the human life span. Something makes me believe they will prevail.

Cheers,

Diane

[Boss]

G'day Diane,

Thanks for your support. It is interesting. I find it hard to believe in an Earth without us! I see a balance approaching where Life lives in harmony.

In fact, I feel Humanity has a special part to play. That of exploring the Universe. Not tomorrow, but in say, 5,000 years - where do you think we may be? Or what about 20,000? We will learn to nurture our world and then we shall colonise outer space. One step at a time.

PS - why navy blue?

In peace

Boss

[Diane]

Hi Boss,

Well, I hope very much that we learn to 'nurture our world' but a catastrophic change of climate will likely put paid to us sooner or later, and then the trees are likely to return again first. I suppose we might manage to colonise other planets beforehand, it's always a possibility. But, either way, I think the Universe has managed itself without us for billions of years, and that it will get along fine without us when (if) we're gone.

Dark blue, because it's such a peaceful colour.

If I look it up in the Luscher Colour Test Book:

Dark Blue represents Depth of Feeling. It is cocentric, sensitive, incorporative, perceptive, unifying. It's affective aspects are tranquility, contentment, tenderness, love and affection.

Experiments in which individuals are required to contemplate dark blue have found that it has a calming effect on the nervous system.

Take Care,

Diane

[Diane]

('Cocentric' should read 'concentric'. If I try to edit my posts at the mo the computer tells me "you can only edit your own posts". No point in arguing with a computer.)

[Fljotsdale]

Boss, I'm really sorry, but I still can't read it all the way through yet. I keep stalling where the tree is cut down. And glimpses of the following stanzas look just as painful. I love trees.

[Boss]

Dear Fljots,
Go on read it through.
I promise you it has a happy ending!

Dear Diane,
Have faith in Humanity.
I know it looks bad now,
but we are gardeners just as much as we are forest clearers or petrol consumers.

I like dark blue

With a little ease

Boss

[Diane]

Hi Boss,

I am optimistic for the future of humanity. But on a geological time-scale we have only been around for a nanosecond, and I don't think we have superhuman powers to endure indefinitely. I don't think we're that special in the grand scheme of things. In the future some other intelligent race will no doubt evolve, and later beome extinct, and etcetera into eternity. But then, who am I to know? Che sera sera, and that's just fine.

I get a peaceful easy feelin, every time I read your posts
(oops it's those song lyrics again.)

Diane

[Boss]

Dear Diane,

I know we've only been around - out of Africa - for 100,000 odd years and I know the species has existed for roughly 5 million years in some form or other, and, compared to the 13.7 billion years of existence, we have been around for a nanosecond!

However, I indeed think we're special. This could be divinely inspired, perhaps not. I can tolerate both views. But the cerebral capacity of homo sapiens is profound. Never before has this type of animal evolved. We have the freedom of speech; communication. We are the same as other animals but we are different. We correspond on computers for G-d's sake! And I believe we Love (I'm not saying whales don't) and thus, we won't let our World die. We can't...

I thoroughly enjoy your words too but I can't think up a song just now!

Boss

[Diane]

Hi Boss,

Eventually the earth will get swallowed up by a dying sun, of course, if it survives that long,

Evolutionists think humans have a unique capacity for love because empathy was selected for during evolution. I lean towards agreeing with this view. But I also have a view that Love is a natural property of the Universe, if we define Love as accepting the true nature of things, whatever that may be. If people are deeply honest with one another then once all the masks, fears and negative behaviours have dropped away, what is left is a peaceful feeling of love and belonging. I have been trying to tie together my scientific view of human nature, with my personal experiences in recent years, and I have not yet come to a real conclusion as to whether they are compatible or not. I think they could well be, but I don't really feel I need to be clear about this at the moment. I don't think I'll ever know for sure. I just prefer to concentrate on my direct experience. It's all we can really know.

But, here are some good Led Zep lyrics which look like they were written just for this thread:

And it's whispered that soon, if we all call the tune
Then the piper will lead us to reason
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long
And the forest will echo with laughter
And it makes me wonder

Diane

[Boss]

G'day Diane,

I got 'Stairway' on now. Gee that guitaring at the beginning is sweet. You put me in the mood.

I agree with you about Love. It is the glue that holds all things in place. I agree that 'masks, fears and negative behaviours' can fall away but as we've alluded to before sometimes one needs help. Sometimes an entire nation, or planet, does! People have always needed guides. Indeed, Bob Dylan is one in his special sort of way. We should concentrate on direct experience but I also feel that a person needs their imagination; gotta have dreams and hopes. ('Stairway's finished)

The sun will burn out but not for a long, long time. Surely by then we'll have colonised space. One day Earth will not exist, but of us and our plants and animals - who knows where we'll be and what we've evolved into. This Life that was breathed into some 13.7 billion years ago continues on. And we are its shepherds!

Love Boss

[paula_hansen]

I agree with you about Love. It is the glue that holds all things in place.
Love Boss

The glue that keeps us together is the love of Christ. Without that glue we would all be up a gum-tree.