01-02-2014, 12:00 AM
seesaw wrote:I spent the night of New Years Eve gazing at a tree. Its a small olive tree i bring into the kitchen every Xmas to share experiences and celebrate life with.
Anyway, on New Years Eve, i left my human stuff to one side and went to meet it. It was so wonderfully alive it even waved its little branches around. It is such a delight to see this. Then we spoke. We had quite a conversation, one full of affection. We exchanged all sorts of information.
One of the things the tree said to me was that i should try taking 'thyme', a small herb that was growing near where the tree normally lives outside in the garden.
It sent me the fragrance and a small snapshot of the effect this would have on the remains of a cold i have had for the last 10 days.
Today i made my own thyme tea and am amazed by the results. That little tree really knows its stuff!
I wrote this up experience elsewhere in private parts of the forum, but the post was lost somehow. Posting this openly is a small experiment for me. If i find that it is responded to by rubbish, i wont post openly again.
THE SEVEN SELVES
In the silent hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven selves sat together and thus conversed in whispers:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years, with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I must rebel.
Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is given me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary existence.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught was given me but the odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell, who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self, the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who, with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images and give the formless elements new and eternal forms--it is I, the solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to fulfil. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, when you are busy re-creating life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness, which is behind all things.
Gibran Khalil
Anyway, on New Years Eve, i left my human stuff to one side and went to meet it. It was so wonderfully alive it even waved its little branches around. It is such a delight to see this. Then we spoke. We had quite a conversation, one full of affection. We exchanged all sorts of information.
One of the things the tree said to me was that i should try taking 'thyme', a small herb that was growing near where the tree normally lives outside in the garden.
It sent me the fragrance and a small snapshot of the effect this would have on the remains of a cold i have had for the last 10 days.
Today i made my own thyme tea and am amazed by the results. That little tree really knows its stuff!
I wrote this up experience elsewhere in private parts of the forum, but the post was lost somehow. Posting this openly is a small experiment for me. If i find that it is responded to by rubbish, i wont post openly again.
THE SEVEN SELVES
In the silent hour of the night, as I lay half asleep, my seven selves sat together and thus conversed in whispers:
First Self: Here, in this madman, I have dwelt all these years, with naught to do but renew his pain by day and recreate his sorrow by night. I can bear my fate no longer, and now I must rebel.
Second Self: Yours is a better lot than mine, brother, for it is given me to be this madman's joyous self. I laugh his laughter and sing his happy hours, and with thrice winged feet I dance his brighter thoughts. It is I that would rebel against my weary existence.
Third Self: And what of me, the love-ridden self, the flaming brand of wild passion and fantastic desires? It is I the love-sick self who would rebel against this madman.
Fourth Self: I, amongst you all, am the most miserable, for naught was given me but the odious hatred and destructive loathing. It is I, the tempest-like self, the one born in the black caves of Hell, who would protest against serving this madman.
Fifth Self: Nay, it is I, the thinking self, the fanciful self, the self of hunger and thirst, the one doomed to wander without rest in search of unknown things and things not yet created; it is I, not you, who would rebel.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who, with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images and give the formless elements new and eternal forms--it is I, the solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
Seventh Self: How strange that you all would rebel against this man, because each and every one of you has a preordained fate to fulfil. Ah! could I but be like one of you, a self with a determined lot! But I have none, I am the do-nothing self, the one who sits in the dumb, empty nowhere and nowhen, when you are busy re-creating life. Is it you or I, neighbours, who should rebel?
When the seventh self thus spake the other six selves looked with pity upon him but said nothing more; and as the night grew deeper one after the other went to sleep enfolded with a new and happy submission.
But the seventh self remained watching and gazing at nothingness, which is behind all things.
Gibran Khalil