Tag Archives: man’s condition

The Letter

“A lie is more comfortable than doubt, more useful than love, more lasting than truth.” —Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez

A short story,   by Sha’Tara 

       She ran across the freshly ploughed field, bare feet digging in soft loam, long dress held up with one hand, the other waving a yellow envelope as she jumped uneven furrows.

     “Samuel, Samuel!”

    The team stopped and the man waited, leaning on the arms of the plough, sweat pouring down his dirt-streaked face and opened homespun shirt.

     “A letter from Timmy…! she cried, breathless from her race across the rough ground.

     “Now, easy, woman. How d’you know it’s from the boy?” he answered cautiously in a soft drawl.

     “I jes’ know! Please, Sam, let’s go have it read!” Her eyes danced with excitement.”

     “Now, Susanna? Ya know the preacher’s on his rounds and teacher’s off for the summer… and the notary charges for readings.”

     “Please, I’ve got to know how he’s doin’! Please?”

     He sighed heavily and looked up for a moment: “Alright, woman, we’ll go. Hitch up the gelding. I’ll bring these in and feed ’em. Reckon the ploughin’ can wait one more day.”

     As they rode their battered surrey into town, she tried to imagine the contents of the letter, all the things her son would be doing and seeing. Even though the war was raging, he’d have seen the mansions with their armies of servants, the women in their pretty getups, maybe even been to some fancy do… “I jes’ hope he ain’t fallen for none of them fancy types. Who knows with young un’s away from home so long? Two years, three months and nineteen days…”

     She was jolted from her dreaming when the rig stopped in front of the notary’s office. They went in, Susanna holding herself shyly, a distance behind Sam. They waited patiently until the rotund man sitting at a desk, a shade on his balding head, stopped shuffling the pages of a paper, took a cigar from his mouth, blowing the smoke to the low ceiling, and nodded for them to approach.

     “Can I help you folks?” He had studied them and smirked inwardly. He already knew what they wanted by the envelope the woman was now holding tightly to her breast. He savored the momentary power their ignorance and threadbare poverty allowed him.

     “We need a letter read, sir.” Sam said, matter of factly.

     “Sure, no problem.” He snapped his fingers, “You got the two-bits?”

     “Two-bits? Ain’t that a heap o’ money for a readin’?” The farmer was incredulous.

     “‘Tis the goin’ rate these days, folks, what with the war on an’ all.”

     “Look, please, Mr. Raines” she came forward, daring to interrupt, holding out the letter to him, “it’s a letter from my son in the army, sir, from the war, an’ I jes’ want to know what it says… please?”

     Pushing out his chair, placing his feet on the desk and looking past her at a rider on the street, he answered arrogantly, “This here’s a business, ma’am. Gotta have money to make it run. If I read your letter for nothin’ everyone’d want the same priv’lege an’ I’d be outta business, see?”

     “Please…” she hesitated briefly, then tried again, “would you take some eggs, or milk, or a chicken, maybe?”

     “Didn’t you read my sign? ‘Course not, you cain’t read! Look at these here big letters” -he struggled his bulk out of the swivel chair, stood up and poked viciously at the sign on his desk, then slammed his fist down -“How many times do I have to tell you people the same thing? NO PAYMENT IN KIND ACCEPTED. That means, cash, understand? Good day!”

     He went back to his chair, relit his cigar and exhaled with extra satisfaction. He flicked open his paper with a noncha­lant gesture, ignoring Sam and Susanna who turned and left the office, the droop of their shoulders accented by another of life’s endless defeats.

     “I tried to tell you, woman” Sam said to her, not unsympathetically, as he helped her into the rig. “Edjicashun cos’s money and Ben’s edjicated and we’re jes’ dumb farmers. Like preacher says, we gotta accept this from the Lord an’ not go put on airs. Jus’ wait ’til Timmy returns and he’ll read us the letter. By the look o’ that envelope, I reckon it’s a mighty fine letter.”

     Moved by her silent, bitter tears, he reached for her with his large, calloused hand and brought her close to himself, flicking the reins with his free hand. She turned her face to him for a moment, then leaned against him, holding the letter between them.

     She rode the rest of the way silently, crushed by her ignor­ance and shamed at having taken Sam from his work.  Approach­ing their homestead in the early fall twilight, she did not experience the usual sense of happiness and security which the sight always gave her. She could not articulate the deep sadness which held her as she disembarked and entered the shack.

     She placed the letter on the small wall shelf above the table, next to the Bible and the faded blue ribbon Timmy had won at school in a spelling bee.

     Sometimes, on sleepless nights, Susanna would take the letter and hold it tenderly, visualizing her son standing by her side. She saw his green eyes sparkle as her hand went through his unruly reddish hair, his freckled face open in that special smile he had always kept for her alone. She would cry a little, then put it back. She never again dared to have it opened and read, although the preacher passed through several times, and the schoolmarm returned for another year.

     Rumors that the war had ended began to circulate through the county, but it was only when some of the boys returned and Timmy did not, nor send any more letters, that Samuel realized he had not written the letter and that Susanna had always known.

Defining Capitalism

thoughts from    ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara

[Quote:  We have entered the looting stage of capitalism.  Desolation will be the result. – Paul Craig Roberts, former assistant secretary of the US treasury and associate editor of the Wall Street journal.]

When something has always been, and you want to make a “new” point about it, a smart writer will say something like, “we’ve never seen this before…”   Look at the quote again, emphasize “entered the looting stage” as if somehow capitalism could have ever existed outside a looting stage.  Capitalism is totally predatory.  It’s akin to those great dragons of Tolkien lore that issued forth from Thangoridrim and Mordor to prey upon the worlds of Elves and Men in Middle Earth. 

It must be understood eventually, should man have an eventually, that capitalism is a debt concept.  Capitalism’s modus operandi:  “By whatever means, put the world in debt, then loot the world ostensibly to repay that debt.”  The trick for a less than bright mental human flame is to recognize the darkness that is capitalism; to call a spade a spade and admit that hey, we’ve all been royally conned, and are being even more royally conned with each passing day. 

Capitalism is a disease.  Hence the cure (should anyone with a half a brain cell want one) isn’t more of the disease.  It’s to actually call it what it is, and destroy it. 

How do you destroy capitalism?  That’s the simplest thing.  Stop going into debt, and stop putting others in debt to you.  Money doesn’t make babies.  When you are asked to pay back $15 for the $10 you borrowed, you’re being asked to either make some counterfeit money (as do those who lend it) or to steal it from your neighbour.  There is no other way under the sun that a debt incurred under capitalism can ever be repaid.   Few have any qualm about stealing from their neighbour, especially if that neighbour happens to be a total stranger, or better yet, a declared enemy. 

You don’t care?  You think that because you have a job, or your house is paid for, you can think, “I’m OK, you’re OK?”  You think that because that drone that just blew up an Afghan wedding party didn’t blow up your wedding party, it’s OK?  You think that the makers and users of the drone care more about you than about the Afghan bride and groom and their family?  You can’t figure out that the only reason you’re still alive is because you’re worth more as a consumer and you have nothing of value the predators can’t have for the taking without a fight?   

Under capitalism, anything that makes a profit is OK.  If that means perpetual war, then so be it.  If that means corruption, lies, cheating, buying the justice system, rigging elections, polluting land, sea, and air, then so be it.  If it means destroying nations and committing genocide, so be it.  This whole game has absolutely nothing to do with right and wrong; with morality; with common sense.  It has to do with dollars, yuans, rubles, and whatever makes those valuable to the psychopathic 1% of the population that has enslaved the 99% to do its bidding.

The USSR economy was collapsed because it had begun to build something that could be looted.  The Middle East is in a shambles because it has resources that can be looted.  The less-economically viable nations of the European Union (Ireland, Greece, Spain) are being looted.  Africa is  moaning in disease and drowning in bloodshed because it has natural and labour resources that can be looted.  Latin America’s democracies are being destabilized and destroyed because there are resources there the dragon of Wall Street needs to sate it’s insatiable appetite for blood and bone yards . 

And on Wall Street… or any other place where the 1% capitalist looters gather, there are hundreds of fake smiles baring blood-stained teeth when the psychopaths dance around the facsimile of the global debt cake.  And are these dragon servants to blame for the condition of the planet?  Not at all: they are performing according to their nature, and the 99% whom they have enslaved also are performing according to their own nature.  No one’s to blame.  A thing is what it is, and it isn’t something else until someone, some crazy individual says to herself, this is bullshit, I’m not following that agenda anymore. 

And when things change for that one individual, everything changes… but justice prevails: they only change for that one individual.  The rest must continue to fuel the destruction of their world by whatever means the 1% elites have chosen to exercise.  The rest must continue to pay, to fear, to worry, to harbour anger and resentment, and to die in hate and hopelessness.  

Of Fremen and Individualism – an observation

I ran this “essay” a couple of years ago on this blog, but most people “following” now weren’t following then.  Plus, I’ve done some mega revising, so, if you have the time, read and ponder.  And if you have even more time, let me know what you think, and where you believe my rationale is faulty.  That’s what blogging is all about.  

   Of Fremen and Individualism
             [observations from  ~burning woman~  by Sha’Tara]
I’ve been watching the Dune movie series.  I like the way Frank Herbert viewed the world and life.  Speaking to Mua’dib (Paul Atreides) Chani explains the ways of the Fremen in the deep southern desert of planet Arrakis or Dune.
“Everything is connected” she says and draws a circle in the sand with snake symbols in it representing Shai-hulud the Great Worm, god of the Fremen.  “The living and the dead, inanimate and animate, all parts functioning to serve the whole.” (Dune – the movie, part II)
It seems so “natural” to accept this explanation of life as if it explained all of life.  It’s so easy to just nod and agree.  We observe this phenomenon of “connectedness” and we accept it as normal and necessary.  And we go to sleep knowing we are connected to “all that is” and we dream our petty dreams waiting for the day when we too will be a complete part of “all that is” and “all my struggles, Lord, will be over…”
We have this observation, and the zillions of teachings to back it up.  Does that really make it true?  Is everything truly connected to (dependent upon) everything else, or is it just one gigantic artificial machine put together with parts that continually pull apart, away from each other?
How would our perception of who we are change if we turned it around?  If we said, “Everything is individual.  Every bit exists for itself alone.  Every part that unites with another to create something “else” does so for a limited time only, knowing that it must return to being an individual “self” among all the other “selves. 
If we were truly observant, we would see that there are MORE manifestations of individualism than collectivism.  That collectives coerce individuals to serve them and that individuals push away from the collective all the time, the greatest push being when they “die”.  
The problem is one of skewed observation.  Bad science.  Wishful thinking passing itself off as law.  A universe is a collective.  It is made up of “things” that serve it.  Do these “things” need the universe more than the universe needs the things?  Our bodies are made up of individual particles.  Do the particles need the body to survive, or does the body need the particles to exist?  Is it mutual need?  When the organic system we call a body dies, what becomes of the particles who had joined to maintain the body?  Do they die?
OK, here’s another one: what is death?  When the body dies, what or who dies?  What remains?  What can once more move freely and decide to join itself to another body… or not?  Seems to me that only two aspects of the “body” remain after death:  the mind and the particles.  These no longer need each other, so go their separate ways.  And what of the body of which so much was made “in real life”?  Dust to dust, ashes to ashes…
Observation (from memory and awareness). 
When particles and mind join into body, a change happens.  Both lose their individuality and become more body.  Their awareness shrinks.  All that they are is taken (usurped?) by the body to serve it’s needs.  Individual awareness of self becomes a huge gob of incredible selfishness.  From this arises fear.  Fear because the body, an artificial concept, a collective, knows that it must control its “event horizon” to survive.  It believes that it can somehow survive.  And it seeks ways to enhance itself.  To protect itself and to please itself.  Willy-nilly, mind and particles are conned into this process and convert natural energy to feed the monster they inhabit.
But the amount of energy required to feed the monster is always more than the individual parts can supply.  One after another, particles flee the monster.  For a time, others are attracted to it and take their place, but eventually the movement is more “out” than “in”.  Sometimes, the clouded mind too begins to question her role in all of this and with tremendous effort, reaches out and looks around.  Sometimes she actually decides that “enough is enough” and she plans her escape.  She knows she must leave or she will be trapped in the throes of the monster’s ultimate death.
Yes, it’s comforting to believe.  There are many belief systems.  Being systems, they will go along with the truism that all parts function to serve the whole.  The Fremen are very superstitious people.  And the harsh conditions of life in the deep desert of Arrakis makes it imperative that they work cooperatively.  But to take necessary cooperation and translate that into a “whole” is taking too much of a giant step: it is to do the splits.  The individual can still exist without “the whole” but “the whole” cannot exist without its captured complement of individual parts. 
Why is Earth in such a shambles today?  Because individuals have been buying into the collective mindset for thousands of years and seldom questioned it.  Individuals have not moved to that magic place of personal awareness and true independence.  They continue to serve their collectives because they do not understand the mind space.  They cannot, as yet, comprehend the concept of self empowerment.
Serving “the whole” requires the conversion of incredible amounts of energy.  The whole would exist just as well, and would not require feeding if it was totally ignored, was not served, by individuals.  There would be a whole, observable through natural interaction and cooperation.  But to serve the whole you need laws, coercive, heavy, destructive.  You need control.  That’s what a “served” whole does: it makes laws to control energy so it can feed itself.  It has no natural life.  Only individuals have natural life.
The whole is not infinite, only individuals.  Individuals throughout space, ever moving, ever expanding, ever discovering.  Only where individuals have passed can there be a whole.  And when all individualism becomes the whole, all that will remain is a hole.  Entropy. 
In a  nutshell then:  The whole does not exist as such.  However, where individualism expresses, a “background” is formed.  Call it history or memory or whatever.  That is not “you” but just a record of your passage “there”.  As long as background remains as background, all is well.  But when the background, when the record, moves to the front and obliterates the individuals that make it, then you have oppression and eventually mass death – oppression, war, genocide
Earth has become a “whole” and is at an interesting point.  Individual humans can no longer support their collectives as these have grown too fat and too demanding.  People are dying at a terrifying rate and their death creates a palpable wave of suffering and fear that poisons the minds of those who remain alive and the minds of those being born.  Depression, paranoia, anger and hate, along with horrible addictions are endemic.  And the old guard which calls itself the New World Order has no way of preventing this from escalating into chaos.  So it will attempt to fight fire with fire by initiating “limited and controllable” chaos: a state of permanent war, fought with threats of weapons of mass destruction (but without actually using them, or using them tactically) so the fear, the anger and the hate, the undergirding of every institution, will be manageable and controllable.
That is their hope.  And every Earthian human who puts “the whole” ahead of his or her own individuality and personal common sense, will struggle and die to support that hope.  Carnage will be the result.  As universal carnage was the result of the Fremen finding their collective power and unleashing their Jihad, their “holy war”, upon the entire universe in the name of their new god: Mua’dib.
The individual mind set free is more powerful than the whole.  This I have demonstrated to myself and for myself. 
Observation: cooperation out of felt need leads to institutionalization and the empowering of the whole – best exemplified by fascist capitalism, corporatism and organized religion (totalitarian theocracies).
Cooperation out of compassion leads to a soft and gentle interplay of energies, not demonstratable except by the individual to the individual. 
As to the conditions (and conditioning) regarding mankind and his earth, it is quite likely too late now to honestly speak of choice.  Collectivism has pushed all available forms of energy into a process of unavoidable competition.  Under increased tension all competition tends to war.  The competititve mindset is the mindset of the predator.  Man is not just a predator, but an insane one, unfairly competitive.  Under current hegemony, man’s legacy is death on a massive scale.  Only self empowered individuals carry any hope of reversing this trend.   And how likely is that to happen?  
How likely is it that “man” wakes up one fine morning and realizes, individual by individual, that s/he no longer needs religion, God or gods, leaders, bosses, politicians, militaries and security agencies, way showers, priests, gurus, counselors, lawyers, a “medical” profession, or the propaganda apparatus called universal education and the info-tainment mainstream media and let’s throw in charitable organizations and the United Nations in the discard pile.   How about, not a chance in hell?  Man, after all, is a creature of habit.  It may not work, in fact it may be totally disruptive and destructive, but its tradition.  As the Fremen would say, “It’s our way.”  

The Turd Apocalypse


Aware that my reading public is breathlessly awaiting for another story and also realizing that my reputation as a Great Writer depends on my ability to finally put forth the Great Work of my career, I worked long, long hours, deep into the twilight and wrote it.  It is offered here for your enjoyment, but principally for your education.  For it is written: “What you don’t know can kill you.”  And now, you are about to KNOW.

     The Turd Apocalypse     [a short story —  by Sha’Tara]

In the beginning, as all such events must have, the people lived in emptiness and great darkness.  They wandered about on the face of the earth with no greater goal than to find appropriate shelter in caves, underground tunnels or hollow trees.  Their immediate concerns were to gather seeds, fruit and vegetables as the earth provided to eat.  When an area was depleted, they would move on again.  In those days of great ignorance, the people knew nothing.  They had no leaders, no money, no cities and no technology and they were so ignorant of what life had to offer that they lived much longer than today and seldom experienced wasting diseases.  Furthermore, they were even ignorant of sin and had therefore no way to make atonement should they contravene any law, of which they had none.  Nor did their system provide any justice for victims of crime as they were too dumb to even commit crimes.  It was a very dark and sad time for the earth in those days, for all of the people, from the youngest to the oldest, suffered from an over-abundance of endless happiness.

But nothing is ever so dark that hope cannot rise as a silver lining around the loin cloth and it came to pass that a small family group was wandering along the foot of a mountain chain at the edge of the jungle and they came upon… a turd.  It was not just an ordinary turd.  They had encountered many such, and knew that given time, the earth would change these turds into wonderful fertilizers that made their seeds grow.  This particular turd was extraordinary.  It rose higher than the shortest child in the group and it glistened fresh in the bright sun. 

The people stopped and stared in awe at this wonder of wonders.  A magnificent turd.  What could it mean?  What could it portend?  The oldest member of the tribe approached the turd and smelled it.  It had a very powerful aroma, unlike anything he had ever smelled before.  He gathered his small tribe and for many hours they discussed the turd.  It was finally agreed, with much forceful oration on the part of the elder, that this was no ordinary turd.  It was a gift of some great one.  So was the idea of the Great One born in the mind of those primitive humans.  The elder ordered that a great hut be raised over the turd to protect it from the elements, and that sacrifices be offered to the Magnificent Turd in the hope that the Great One would be pleased and would consider them His Chosen People.  For there never was any doubt in the mind of the Elder that only a Great Male would put forth such a gargantuan deposition.

The Great Turd could not be moved without being desecrated so it was decided to build a village around it.  So the people became sedentary and settled down.  They learned to till the soil more intensely to increase yields as the tribe grew in numbers.  They also learned how to hunt and kill animals and use their meat as food, their skins as clothing.  This led to development of special skills in weapons making, and in garment manufacturing.  Soon, wild animals were captured and domesticated, making hunting less crucial.  At this the hunters became despondent until the Elder suggested they go off into the jungle and see if they could capture other humans to use as slaves, and as much needed fresh blood for the tribe.  So they went off eagerly, found unsuspecting groups, captured the young and killed the old, bringing young men and girls for slave labour and sex.  

The tribe grew in size and power.  The Elder chose certain young men to help him with the maintenance and service of the Great Turd Hut and special rituals of cleansing were performed before these young men could present themselves before the Turd.  More and more sacrifices, now including animal and human, were brought to the Turd in order to please the Great Depositor as He became known.  

Until then, in their ignorance, the people had thought that earth shakings and violent winds were a natural phenomenon.  Thanks to the growing knowledge of All That Is as expounded by those who served in the Hut of the Turd, it became known that the shakings were the footsteps of the Great One walking through the mountains, dragging a great club with which he carved out new valleys, or raised new mountains.  The great winds were his breath and his farts, depending on their direction and the smells they brought.  

Once the hunters came upon a hill where a great devastation of fruit-bearing trees had taken place.  They immediately turned back and reported to the Temple Guardians or Priests as they insisted on being called, that they had sure evidence the Great One had walked over that hill only recently and fed from the fruit in the trees, breaking them off to bring the succulent morsels to his lips.  A delegation of Priests insisted on accompanying the hunters in order to make the discovery official.  The hunters had to provide the food and the slaves so the Priest delegation could travel in the style their position demanded. 

Upon reaching the area of the devastation, the priests declared it a new Site.  A new Temple of the Turd erected upon that hill.  Here, the more studious and spiritual, as well as those who applied to become priests, came to live, and to study, meditate and work.  The Hill was declared holy to the Great One and an exact duplicate statue of the Great Turd was placed at its very top.  Way stations were built along a winding path to the Holy Sanctuary of the Great Turd and the people came in droves to worship there, and to plead for healing from the many vexing, perplexing and devastating wasting diseases and plagues that accompanied them all the days of their shortened lives in the growing city below.  Each supplicant had to bring offerings or sacrifices to the Head Priest, who took them and placed them around the Altar to the Great One.

When the supplicants finally found the words to ask the Head Priest why the Great One afflicted them so, he told them the truth:

“It is your manifold sins against the Great One, and your lack of respect for His Turd that is cursing your life in the city below.”  

“And what are these great sins, Father?” asked the supplicants. 

“You are being stingy with your riches, keeping them for yourselves and your children.  The Great One knows what you hoard in your hovels, and how you seek to hide from His Legally Ordained Collectors.  Come forth, children, be not afraid.  Give all that you have to the Great One and He will look after you.  Is that not what you are taught in the great Turd Document which your teacher-priests interpret for you?  When you stop being greedy, when you give all that you possess and all that you are to the Representatives of the Great Turd, then and only then will you realize what prosperity is.  Stop sinning.  Work harder and give more.” 

Some supplicants asked why the Great Turd took them so early in life, some in childhood.  The Priest responded:

“Those are His specially Chosen Ones whom he takes to place in a Paradise far over the Great Mountains and beyond the Great Sea.  It is a blessing of the Great Turd that you should die young.”

And so the people returned to their miserable lives, among the stagnant water, the rats and the fleas, and took the food from the mouths of their starving and dying children, and gave their daughters as sex slaves to the priests, and their sons to the growing military machine and to the Church of the Turd and the city grew into a nation, the nation became an empire and all around, the fires burned and the machines growled, driving the once ignorant relaxed and healthy people faster, farther and deeper into debt and death.  But who had time to notice in all the excitement created by the new technology and the new wars?  And who could believe the few mad prophets who predicted a coming Turd Apocalypse upon the land?

And so it came to pass that a distant people who did not know or worship the Great Turd, coveted the riches of the Turd Empire and launched a devastating war against it.  Long the war lasted, until the resources of the empire were completely wasted and only old and infirm people were left.  When the invaders finally entered the City of the Great Turd, they broke into the Temple and violated the Holy Turd sanctuary.  In it, they found a small pile of debris with bits of dried up grasses, broken nut shells and seeds.  Archaeologists who later examined these remains failed to comprehend why the once mighty empire had protected those remains or what was their social and economic significance, since the invading military commander had ordered that all the Turd Priests be killed and all their paraphernalia be burned or otherwise destroyed. 

And how could these researchers arrive at some understanding of the Great Turd empire’s drive?  Their own Great One was represented by an Egg, the Egg, so their priests claimed, that had once been laid by a Great Sea Creature upon the very shore where their ancestors had stopped to rest and gather the bounties offered by the ocean. 

“Blessed be the Great Egg!”  they intoned dutifully as they handed their reports to the Egg Head Priest.  He eyed them haughtily and dismissed them with barely a flick of a finger.


World Bridger – a timeless vision

World Bridger  –  a timeless vision
from  ~Burning Woman~  as experienced by Sha’Tara 

There was nothingness.  Then there was darkness as I emerged from a deep and timeless sleep.  In the darkness, I heard a voice echoing. It said: “You are Tara the Planet Bridger…”  Thus did I re-discover my true purpose in non-time and thus was I re-awakened.  

As I peered into the dark, which was the dark of space, I saw two planets orbiting. Then the voice continued: “In the depths of space, two twin worlds move slowly towards each other through the eons of time… Soon they will come close enough to each other for a bridge to be formed.  Prepare yourself for you are that bridge…”

Then I saw these twin worlds.  One was pristine; beautiful, green, lush, full of life. Its waters were blue and clear. Everywhere it emanated a sense of pure joy. The other was the opposite: it was blighted, polluted, desecrated. Smoke swirled around it, and on its surface people ran here and there aimlessly.   There were wars being fought, and famine was rampant. There were plagues and diseases of all kinds. Pain, misery and death marked the passage of time there…

            When these two worlds approached one another, at some perfect timing, a ball of reddish/golden light appeared between the two planets. Inside this ball of light was a being, a woman, apparently sleeping.   Then, I found myself there: I was that being, Tara, the World Bridger. I awakened from my sleep and began to stretch my body. As I did so, I emerged from the ball of light as from a shell and it vanished.

In that space, I stretched my feet towards the pristine world and I saw them enter the soil to become a part of the landscape.   I stretched my head to the wrecked and wretched planet, and when it touched, my hair, which flowed in abundance, entered that soil like millions of roots, and I became a part of that world.  Joy flowed from my feet and horror squeezed my head into the ultimate headache. 

But now a bridge had been formed between two worlds.  Soon, people from the blighted world began to walk upon my flesh and to test this phenomenon.  Some, recognizing the bridge, gave thanks and quickly made their way to the waiting Edenic world.   Most, sadly, feared the consequences of trusting in this new thing, and chose to just wander around a bit, then return to their miserable subsistence. Another type of human came to explore my body: the ‘gold diggers’.   These brought the same tools they had been using to destroy their planet. They proceeded to cut up my flesh, looking for treasure. Finding nothing of value or interest that appealed to their blighted senses, they too returned to their world greatly disappointed and angry…

 In time, when the two worlds were again beginning to orbit apart, all those who were upon my body left. Most had opted to remain on their old world, afraid of the future presented to them.   They could not believe that this new world was ‘real.’ When I was completely clear of traffic, of human life, I tore myself free of the old world. My hair pulled out of my head and remained in the soil there. I wrenched my legs away from the new world, and my feet remained in that soil. I rolled myself into a ball in excruciating pain… and died… Rather, I became non-living, in the sense that it is understood here. My body then vanished in space but my agonized mind hovered for a time in its place of failure.  

Then the voice returned and said: “In time, when this cycle is complete, you will again return to bridge these two worlds, for you are infinite, you are of life and you are a provider.”