Evolution of a turd and other short stories

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Evolution of a turd


A turd became self was an epic event for all the world.


The turd was sitting as sitting was all it could muster - atop the grass and roots of an ancient tree. The tree was a beauty and as mighty and expansive as any the turd could see in its forest view.


It was as happy as a turd could be and somehow beyond all consideration of its ephemeral and temporary embodiment. It began to sing and glow with excitement and then out of nowhere and everywhere a fairly booming voice asked "what are you so happy about - you are a drying turd soon to be dissolved into my legs and feet and munched upon by worms!"


"The light - I can see the light!

And by the way - who are you asking the question?"


The great tree rotated its vast shroud of branches dressed in all colors of leaves and bent down slightly for added effect - ancient eyes emerging from its trunk.


Bellowing in a somewhat astonished and accusatory voice it said - "what puny light are you able to see! I have had a thousand years of suns baring down upon my head and I am weary of it - you are excited because you know nothing!"


The newly awakened turd was in wonder how such a great being could be so lost and no longer see the wonder of the light.


With its small voice it asked - "what is it that you think you know that has so dimmed the light for you?"


Thundering from above the answer came - "the light is not dim - it crushes down upon me and the wind and the rain fail to find peace - and I have nowhere to go - I am a tree - stuck - implanted - rooted to a ground that has long ago lost its luster - the light has not dimmed - it is unbearable!"


"I despise the beetles that bore into me - and the chattering relentless birds - and my creaking old branches that have become tired of the weight they have born for eons"


It's rant went on:

"Just wait til the clouds gather to pound you into a puddle of slime - sometimes they make rocks of ice and pelt me who has nowhere to hide. Little bastard trees always trying to take my soil, my sun, my position! Parts of me are rotting and parts of me are sprouting - like two legs walking in the opposite direction - and it goes on and on and on - years, centuries - daggers send from heaven try to burn me down and splinter my head - clouds disappear and my thirst becomes extreme - or they fester into a flood that brings the mountain pounding down into my side - I am tired of it!!!!"


It began to sprinkle.......


The small voice of the turd beginning to soften as it realized its demise was near spoke to the tree - "I would gladly take your place within the great framework of your body for another day within the light - as I am assimilated into your roots - you could leave and I would be happy to take over"


The rain began though the brunt of it was spared the turd because of the great canopy of the tree, yet the water would soon make its way since the clouds were thick and dark.


The ancient tree spoke again but more softly this time - mindful of a proposal never proposed before -

"you would take on this burden? It is a curse of a thousand years!

Filled with tic's and beetles and birds and worms - rotted crusty bark and mold and moss and dead things. Your head will burn during the day and the wind will try to break you, fires come and go, floods and light razors - and I have seen choppers come and cut us down and walk away with us in pieces!

It is not a quiet quick life - you will not just fade into the soil - you are forced to stick it out beaten from all angles - you cannot run!"


The small voice was surrendered now - it's time was near and it was filled with the light of the day even while its form was dissolving - "I would gladly take your burden to see the light of another day"


Since its birth it seemed as if every form of bug and insect had had its way within its form but for the turd this is its life - it is what happens - and so the turd never knew them as a burden to bare. It's brief encounter with life is one of giving without effort or reserve.


The tree spoke again - "I'll do it"


There was no response and the Tree with more strength to his voice planted the words more firmly - "I'll Do It!"


The turd was now flattening and dissipating into the very puddle of slim predicted by the Tree - it's voice faint and awareness faltering - in a dreamy state and unsure of what it was doing or saying it simply said - "may I come in now."


The awareness of the turd slipped into the soil and found its way into the roots and trunk of the tree - it's light branched out into the mighty arms of the Tree it once knew - Hugh powers surged downward and upward and out for what seemed miles upon the ground - it was magnificent!


© David Doyle 2016


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Pond Story

It was a bright and sunny day. A man called Freeform walked with his son along an old jogging trail. They came to a fork in the road and took the path less traveled and that made all the difference. (cliches out of the way for now)

They stopped by a clear stream. Almost small enough to jump over, but not quite. Freeform sat down on the grass to watch the water flow by, so did his son.

"What sound is the brook making?" Freeform asked.

"Its babbling Dad. Its going babble whoosh whoosh whoosh, babble babble whoosh whoosh whoosh." said his son.

Freeform smiled at his son and looked up. "What sound are the clouds making?" he asked.

The son pursed his lips and said "They're going Shuushhh, Shuuushhh."

Freeform smiled again. Looking down he saw a little fish in the stream. "What's the fish saying?"

The son puckered up and made kissing sounds "Suhma suhma suhma, that what he's saying Dad."

While they talked a young woman pushing a jogging stroller came near to see what they were staring at. Freeform smiled at the young woman and looked at the young baby in the stroller. "How old is he?" he asked.

She smiled back, "Nine months".

"Half his time in, half his time out. I wonder what he likes better?" said Freeform .

Chris's son walked up to the jogger, looked into the babies bright blue eyes and said "Do you know what the water saying?" Then he put his ear close to the babies mouth.

He nodded his head and asked another question, "Baby, what are the clouds saying?"

"Uh huh" said the son to the baby after listening.

He pointed to the stream, "Baby,do you see the fish?" he asked.

The mother tilted the stroller up slightly so the child could get a better look.

"What are the fishies saying?" he asked and again put his ear close to the babies ear.

At that, the little boy's head rose, he cocked to listen better.  He smiled and said "Yes Baby, you're right". Then sat down and stared at water.

"So, what were the babies answers" asked Freeform.

"He said that they were all saying the same thing' replied his son.

The woman kneeled near the boy and said  "So what was it? What were they all saying?"

"Thank you God"

Chris and the woman smiled at each other. The woman took the baby from the stroller and they sat by the stream and listened together.

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Old Indian story (from the Upanishads)


Once 10 friends were crossing a river. After they crossed over, one of them started counting out the friends and pointing his finger at each of the other friends, he counted "1...2...3...4...and so on until 9". He then exclaimed, "one of our friends must have drowned!"


Not believing friend 1, other friends all took turns and counted "1, 2, 3, and so on until 9" and broke down into lamentations. Sitting down on the banks of the river, they all wept profusely.


A wise man who was walking past them asked them "Why are you guys crying?"

To that, one of the grieving friends replied - "we were 10 when we were on the other side of the river, and now we are 9! One of our dear friend passed away..drowned in the river!"


The wise man understood what was going on, and said, "Hold on guys! Let me show you that all 10 are very much alive...can you start counting?"


So the first friend  stood up and started counting off "1, 2, 3,...and so on until 9" and said "See! I told you one is missing!". 

To that, the wise man responded -- "now point towards yourself too!" and then suddenly a light bulb went off in all their heads...and they exclaimed, half joyously and half sheepishly..."We forgot to count our own selves!"


This story is used in the Upanishads to show, how in our quest to find the Self, we often look for the Self as an object of inquiry. If we take such an approach, we will never find anything, because the subject cannot become the object of it's own inquiry.



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