Chapter 1
Gura
was sitting silently beside Gräs,
waiting, listening, in the green depths of the forest floor.
Purple
flower blooms sprung from a nearby vine violently tickled Gräs
on the left shoulder and she sneezed.
“Ah!”
yelped Gura. her squeaky voice emanating from the direction of her
ephemeral body's shadow. “Good morning, Parvi.”
The
flower nodded.
“Listen,”
cooed Gura. “Listen until you forget your small body.”
“It's
not very small,” said Gräs.
“That's
not the point. Just listen to the sounds of the morning, here, at
this moment, in this forest.”
Gräs
closed her eyes.
“Every
tree... blah blah something profound about trees. Now think of the
tubers.”
“Ohhhh,
they're delicious,” Gräs
cooed as if on cue. “I love how they're so chewy and~”
“Shh!.....Now,
what happens when you take a tuber shoot that's been growing on a
neglected corner of an uneaten blue potato in the heart of the house,
cut it from the larger tuber and plant it in the moist soil? What
does it do?”
“It
grows.”
“Into
what?”
“More
potatoes. Usually.”
“Excellent,
my pupil,” Gura said drily.
A
vibrant turquoise Calliopteryx cut through the dewy morning air with
little snippy wing-beats.
“Apologies
if I disturbed your meditation session,” began the 42-millimeter
long sentient being known to all of his neighbors as Piki, honourable
Lt. Conscience of the Naead Jyl. The bug's presence was weighty and
dignified, belied by his tiny size.
“No
need to apologize, Piki,” Gura smiled. “Blessings to you this
day.”
“Thank
you, ma,” Piki smiled a tiny crystal-glint of a smile and flew
between the fat, periwinkle leaves of a Water Nettle.
Gräs
kept still, a serene vessel housing a calm soul in the sweet morning
air, and felt the air move softly in and out of her lungs.
“Just
like your favorite plant~”
“It's
not my favorite.”
“Oh,”
puzzled Gura. “But you're always going on about how tasty it is.”
“Ohhh,
it is tasty.”
“Anyway,”
said Gura, with utmost patience. “I am trying to create a metaphor.
Just like your beloved tubers, is your Brain. You are born, and
your Brain is one thing, it sees only itself, and all things as part
of itself. The sequestering of a neglected potato may seem like a
tragedy to the tuber, but it is only by experiencing the solitude of
its own being and the passage of time that it can germinate new life.
Your Brain, similarly, must learn the lesson of solitude. It is to
become light, become source, and bring something new into the world
through the giving of itself. Then we are become light.”
“But
Gura.”
“Yes,
my child.”
“Sometimes
it's hard.”
“I
know, sweetheart. Remember, the rewards are infinite, and shared by
all.”
And Gras calmed her mind, and violet light poured and took form, like
larkspur bells or wisteria budding on a vine, in the deep green
forest of her Heart.
Breathe.
