By Kevin Warren, Carpenter at Wilderness Wood
There once was a flying beast of a dog whose literal thirst was such that its counter effect the ‘shower of gold,’ had a perishing effect on anything green it touched under the sun. This flying dog whom for reasonable incognito I shall re-name ‘Gussy’managed to strip bare circular amounts of ground around the steak his master would have him tied to. His new arena became a patch known to many and found at the mouth of the wild wood. This done many have reckoned to a certain conniving delight of the metal stallion championing Duke of order who could then set about his plan to pave a launching pad for the expected Vulcan visitors expected from inter-galactic space.
The grass had a bad day at this new locale thanks to Gussy, but as one of the more resilient species in the wood it`s Zen status remained reasonable. The shower of gold flowed from the ever thirsty Gussy, caressing the grass and soaking through to the roots whereby a process known as reverse osmosis kicked in and sucked the nutrients out from the wild grass, out and away to the other side of planet wilderness (maybe). Believe it or not this process does exist (probably).
Could it be that on some day unlike any other when my head is pounding and feeling quite unwilling to co-operate with common normality that I’m being hit by some of this reverse osmosis? Cosmically hit by a toxic deluge sucking out even the question of why until on this day I`m left gallantly laughing out loud in a seemingly ridiculous fashion when the realization finally dawns that I’m standing on a luscious patch of grass that previously connected waste to land. Hmm.
I`ve been experimenting with this and I have a prognosis:
Don’t indulge the deluge for it is the extremity of reaction that will suck you dry. Bear with me and gather around.
At the mouth of the wild wood there will be a gathering of ye folk, formed in a grand spiral (as many long as imagination allows) and a special dance will be performed to summon that ever parched Gussy the flying beast of a dog to come and shower us with his love.
In scenario #1 can you imagine the battered neurosis bubbling, pouring out bad days into the ether? The point here is to take a knock for the greater good, of course we will forget why but not I’d wager for long, not when our feet get softened by buttercups growing between our toes. And how much better will we all feel when we see what we have created, a spiraling meadow and well in time for the wedding!
Now in scenario #2 I say unto thee we can raise an umbrella each on sight of that flying dog, a cosmic shield available to all who realize their Buddha nature. The calm dude, steady hand, steady heart cometh to the rescue. Once again.
And worry not the Vulcans have a teleportation machine.