[This is Part VII, the final part of “On Being a Seed.” Click Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, and Part VI for the prior episodes.]
And now I knew who I was, and I laughed at the absurdity
of it all. How could I have
forgotten? All that time I had wasted,
believing that I was all alone in my journey, believing in the destination
instead of the process.
There we all were in the field, our eyes having been
opened at last. Like a painter who
stands before a blank canvas, we knew we had much work to do and anything was
possible. But we were not alone in this
journey. We had never been alone, and so
we were guided from within to reach our full potential. We could never have ended up anywhere but
where we were now.
 |
| Milkweed pods. |
We used the liquid gold, knowing now with reverence its
true purpose. We joined our energies
together in a vortex, and instead of the liquid gold dissipating and spinning
away, it increased and funneled entirely through us. Each of us were a conduit, a channel for the
liquid gold, and we did not try to hold it within anymore. Indeed, it would not have been possible to do
so. No, now we let it flow abundantly
because we knew where it came from.
Off in the forest, dark creatures watched in seething
jealousy. We could not have known their
emptiness and anger, so rapt we were with the heavy job of creation. But they amassed on the border and
watched. At times the great King in the
heavens would reach His hand out quickly to snatch the dark creatures up, but
most of them disappeared into the coolness of the woods as soon as He
approached. Those He was able to take with
Him came not forth into the world again.
Many, many days passed, and I was blissfully busy. It was a long time before I looked up to find
Him again, and I was shocked at His appearance.
He was suddenly tired and old and weak.
What had happened to the great King?
Now I was worried! We must help him, I thought, but I
remained as immobile as ever, locked in a green field.
And then I noticed the dark creatures along the edge of the
forest. Sometimes they would come boldly
out of hiding and stride into the field, and when they did, they would slay
some of my brethren and take them away.
We stood there unable to stop the onslaught, prisoners in the daylight
with no chains or walls around us. I
knew it was just a matter of time before they eventually came for me as well.
One night, we all made a secret pact. We took most of our liquid gold and placed it
into tiny spiky purses, which we believed to be impenetrable. We knew instinctively these little purses
would be safe and so would the liquid gold within. Like feverish elves, we worked through that
night and the next several nights, funneling our liquid gold into the safe
little purses we had fashioned.
When at last we had finished our job, we looked up to a
dreadful sight. Most of the
green-ribboned brethren were sickly and suffering, bent over with exhaustion
and illness. Many were openly
grieving. The dark creatures from the
forest came into the field now during broad daylight, bold and arrogant! One by one, they took us prisoner and brought
us to a court they had fashioned from the skeletons of beings long since
passed.
Now it was my turn.
They ripped and tore me from my place in the field. For so long, I had wanted to move and leave
that field, and now the only thing I wanted was to have my feet buried deeply and
safely in the field. But they had other
plans, and I was roughly torn away and brought to their deadly court.
I looked around wildly for the great King. Surely, He would help me?? He was so strong and brave and mighty. Surely, He would destroy this terrible foe
and we could all go back to our warm and lovely field?? And then I saw him. He was very old and weak and tired. He bent His head downward into the field, one
knee planted in the soft and cool Earth.
He was not so large and all-encompassing as I had thought. He was exhausted, and His light was greatly
diminished. Even so, He was still
beautiful, and His face was serene and still happy.
As they dragged me, I managed to catch His eye, just for
a moment. He smiled warmly at me, and I
remembered the magnificent being who had put His hand under my chin so long ago
and sweetly said, “Rise up, little one.”
Yes, He was still just as beautiful to behold now as He was then,
perhaps even more so because He seemed so tired and in need. I wanted to call to Him and ask for His help,
but I simply smiled at Him and nodded.
He nodded back and then turned to the field again.
They dragged me to the cold court built from bones and
dead things that somehow looked and smelled familiar to me, and they put me on
trial for many crimes. They said I had
stolen the liquid gold, which rightfully belonged to them, and now I must pay
the price for my thievery. I tried to tell
them that the King had willingly given me the liquid gold, but they would hear
none of it. In fact, that only seemed to
enrage them more. I realized He had
never placed His hand under their chin and blessed them as He had me, and this
was why they hated me so much.
The trial was quick.
They found me guilty as charged.
The sentence was dismemberment.
They placed me in a cell before carrying out the execution, and there I
sat, alone and terrified. After crying
incessantly for days, my tears suddenly dried up. Even if I had wanted to cry more, I knew
there was not one drop left. Suddenly, I
felt very lightheaded and dreamy. I knew
the end was near.
Then they came for me.
They dragged me from the prison, and I willingly and easily went along
with them, almost floating in a dreamlike state. They loudly repeated my charges and
sentencing, but I barely listened to them.
Somewhere I could hear the tiny bells of the dancer I knew so long ago,
whom I had completely forgotten about when I had stood tall and proud in my
field. Now the tiny sound of bells
rushed in, and I welcomed it. I could
not see her anywhere, but I knew she was there, and that was enough.
And now they carried out the sentence. I was shredded into a thousand pieces, and
all my tiny spiky purses fell to the ground.
Somewhere very, very far off, a butterfly’s wings were beating away in
the sunshine of a field, and the tiny movement of air reverberated around the
world and gently blew all of my pieces into the wind.
I saw a blinding, searing Light. A terrible voice loudly demanded of me: “Who are you??” I laughed that it would even have to ask, and
I simply responded, “I AM.” This was the
Third Blasphemy of the seed, and I knew it as soon as I spoke it. I AM. And that could not be taken away from me.
[Herein ends the tale of the seed, or perhaps it begins.]
