Another lovely fall day. The horizon was clear and uncomplicated. Acorns fell in the woods. There is noise in the quiet if you listen. A cry in the distance. Difficult to ascertain if it emanates from the human or animal kingdom. Could it be the sound of a bird? It is a bit ethereal. The Woods is watching. Leaves fall regularly now. Cold weather is coming this week.
Days of expectation. Days of hope. Waiting for the call. Waiting for the great commission. Waiting for orders from headquarters. No rest for the weary, Neva J often said. Panoramic Theatre surrounds us. Dolby sound. What we experience is like being there…we are there…we wait for new technology. Our limbs are tired but our trunk is strong. The trees of the forest have a lesson to teach. They are committed to their assignment. They stretch toward Heaven. They grow their roots deep in the Earth. Life is focus. The Turtledove is heard in our land.
We fit the spiritual into pots of clay. The fit is not good…the spirits keep leaking out. We forget our essence at our peril. We look at our reflection in the mirror and soon forget what manner of man or woman we are. What was a mission becomes an obsession. Power is good if used sparingly. The corruption of power is swift. A heady drug of believing your own stories.
The prince grew up in the castle. He was cared for day and night. Fed with a golden spoon…read to by his nannies…washed by his nursemaid. The little prince was carried on a silk pillow. Neither the wind or rain or sun hurt his tender head. He laughed when the court jesters danced before him. The little prince was told morning noon and evening that he was a good boy…wonderful…special…none like him. The Little Prince believed what he was told. He grew and became a leader of the people. The crowds loved him and worshipped him. They called out that he was sent by God for their benefit…chosen. No one told the Little Price no. No one disagreed. No one had a better idea. Finally the Little Prince became the Old King.
Old King was often in a foul mood. The servants did not work quickly enough…they did not bow low enough…he could not hear them when they spoke…he thought them a bit stupid. Old King felt bad all the time. He was heavy on his tired feet…he winded easily…eating was one of his only pleasures. Advisors treated him like a baby…it reminded him of when he was the Little Prince. They asked him questions in bite size amounts. If he gave the answer they sought they asked no further…they reported that this is what the Old King wants. Old King loved aesthetics. He remembered the palace…the silk pillows…someone to dress him and tell him what a good boy he was.
