November 13, 2014 - Sedimentary Island

Back in the days the when the Earth was young and all the rules had not yet been set in stone--indeed, some had not been formed at all--there was the first beautiful stand of trees on a tiny island in a large river.  They grew out of the longing desire of the island, the island that felt alone and remote from the rest of land.  Day and night the island pined away for friendship and love, and it was this pining that grew into active imagination, which as everyone knows is what manifests everything from the field of potentiality to the seen world of solidity.

Out of this imagining and dreaming came some beautiful trees, and as they grew strong and tall from the fertility of the island, they became self-aware.  Now they were separate from the island, although still completely dependent upon it.  Now the friendship could grow in earnest, and grow it did.  Daily, the island fed the trees and the rain watered them, and in return the trees talked to the island and kept her company.  Daily, the island would tell the trees how beautiful they were.

One day it occurred to the trees that they did not know what the word “beautiful” meant, and so they asked the island, who promptly responded by telling them that they were beauty itself.  However, this did not help the trees since they could not see themselves, and this gave rise to a bit of discontent.

“Describe us!” said the trees to the island one day, and she did.

“You are tall and slender and green and graceful,” the island said.

“But what is tall?”

“And what is slender?”

“And what is green?”

“And what is graceful?” four trees asked at once.  The island could not answer these questions to the satisfaction of the trees, and soon they became even more discontented and did not talk as much to the island as they used to do.

The mirror of the water.

Trees are fickle by nature, of course, with pines being the most fickle, but the island was lonely and wanted her friends back.  At last she contrived a plan but would need the help of the churning water all around her.

“Would you go still for the trees so that they might see their reflection on your surface?” the island asked the water.

“And what will you give me in return?” the water responded.

“I could give you the pretty fallen leaves.”
“Not good enough.  The wind already gives me those.”

“I could give you warmth from my inner core,” said the island.

“Don’t need it.  The sun already does that.”  The island was running out of ideas.

“Well, then,” she said after considerable thought, “I could soften my rocks just a bit so that as you lapped against my shore, you could slowly wear me down into sand that you could use to form your own Earth elsewhere.”

This appealed to the water, who was greedy and shrewd and more than a bit jealous of the solidity of the island in comparison to his own fluid nature.  He agreed to go completely still as a mirror but only twice a day at sunset and sunrise and only when the weather was fair.  So they struck a deal and the water immediately went to work at wearing the rocks of the island away.  He would eventually erode the island away completely, and the island knew this, but she did not care because now she had a gift to give her tree friends.

Now even though trees are fickle and pines especially are bristly, they are not as a rule cruel beings.  They had overheard the entire exchange between the island and the water.  They were very excited about getting to see their reflection for the first time in the water, but they were also concerned about their old friend, the island--partially because they required the island itself in order to grow but also because they had grown to like the heart of the old island.  And after all, it was a symbiotic relationship, which benefitted them both and which they intended to strengthen even more.

So the first sunset after the agreement took place came to the island, and the water kept his promise and went still as a mirror.  The trees looked down and saw just how beautiful they were.  They saw that they were tall and slender and green and graceful, and for a while, they just stared into the water until it began to churn again, wearing slowly away at the island, who said nothing.

In the morning, after viewing themselves in the still water of the sunrise, the trees greeted the island warmly and chit-chatted with her.  They began to shed their leaves and some of their needles and their sap and their twigs and all the things left in their branches by the birds and animals that lived there.  Day in and day out they did this, piling pieces of themselves, of the animals around them, of fur and feathers, of the other plants, of insects, etc., all over the island and especially at the shore.  And day in and day out, the water lapped against the island, compacting all that was shed.  This went on for a very long time.

One day it occurred to the island that she was no smaller than she had been at the beginning of her deal with the churning water.  In fact, she had grown a bit!  This made her very happy but confused, and it perplexed the water who daily set about trying to tear her down.  The trees only giggled when the island remarked upon this.  The water churned more and more, trying to bear down upon the island.  The more he did this, the harder the sediment around the island became, until at last he gave up because the sedimentary rocks he had created himself were quite hard and resilient.

“Oh, you knew all along, didn’t you!?” said the island to the trees.  The trees just laughed.  They had formed from the longing desire of the island, and daily bits of them returned to the island because energy cannot be created or destroyed but can only change form.  Of course, this all took place in the beginning of the world, and it is anyone’s guess if it is still going on.  Ask the trees, though, if you care to know as they seem to have an understanding of such things.