This is a tale of a seed that received much warmth and nurturing from the earth in which it was planted. This seed, in the dominion of unconditional love & care sprouted roots, a stem, to take form of a seedling. The seedling, which was now aware & conscious, which knew the loving embrace of its mother earth, now also knew the love from the open air — which brought upon it much grace by its breezes, rain and sunshine. It grew up to see others like itself in a vast field of youthful dreamers. The young plant made many friends as it felt a wonderful connectedness with everything around it. And, even a friendly farmer would regularly stop by and offer delicious nourishments and thoughtful caretaking. The young plant experienced love from its mother earth, father sun, from all its siblings & friends, and from the kind and friendly farmer. And, so, as time passed on, the young plant grew stronger, older, and it deeply loved its habitat. The plant didn’t feel alone.
Then, one day, on a day of much misfortune and woe, the wheat plant recalled the inexplicable, and unthinkable horror: The kindly farmer was approaching it, sickle in hand. Without a second thought, or any remorse, the farmer viciously struck the plant’s heart-line and snapped it in two. Mother earth, and father sun partook in this cruel betrayal by not offering any warning, resistance, or rescue. The plant felt so lonely.
Saddened by this betrayal, the wheat plant, wallowed in sorrow. The cruelty did not end there, for the famer, sold the violated remains of the plant to a baker who used horrifying instruments of torture to beat and ground the poor, poor wheat plant into flour. There would be no reprieve for this poor plant because thebaker then cast the flour into an oven of hell-fire. Burning, hurting, crying, the flour prayed for absolution for sins of being born into awareness. Finally, the baker stopped the horrible experience of hell. The bread gazed upon itself, and could hardly recognize what it had become. It had lost its roots, stem, color… it had lost everything that it knew about itself. Instead, it was this swollen, and weepy mass of unrecognizable substance. None of its farm’s friends came to visit it anymore; and besides, even if they did come seeking it, they wouldn’t recognize what had become of it. The bread felt so lonely.
This bitterloaf of bread emanated an aroma that soon attracted attention at the baker’s window. And then, wonder of wonders, a beautiful, but lonely, maiden arrived at the window. It was the most wonderful sight for the loaf of bread. What’s more, the girl seemed to be entranced by this loaf of bread. She praised aloud to the Baker about what a splendid speciment the loaf of bread was. This wonderful creature, so raptured by the magical effects of the warm, soft, and fresh bread proceeded to bargain for its freedom. The baker was driving a hard bargain, so the maiden wept and pleaded about how much she needed the loaf of bread in her life. She needed this bread to sustain her life. For its part, the bread prayed hard for its release into the hands of this beautiful girl, and soon its prayers were answered and the maiden gently picked up the bread and took it away from the torture den.
The travel on the freedom road with the maiden was the most joyous experience that the bread loaf ever had. The fair maiden held the bread loaf close to her warm, nurturing bosom. The bread remembered how good such nurturing had felt and desired nothing else in the world than achieve union with her. The sweet maiden told the bread what a life-bringer it was, and loved everything that the bread was offering in return. It felt like these two souls were destined to be together. They were. At least, for quite a while. The bread & the maiden no longer felt so lonely.
It would happen, then, that circumstances beyond the control of this girl forced a change in her relationship with the bread. The final image of passion that the bread remembered were her lovely, full, crimson lips breathing softly upon it. The bread was melting in such passion. Then, without any warning, regard, or remorse the maid began to bite into the bread and ripped it apart. For its part, the crumbled bread, in the name of love, felt no greater act of sacrifice would bring it more honor than letting itself be torn apart and devoured by the maid.In its pain, it consoled itself that it was helping its beloved sustain her life; nevertheless,the tattered bread began to feel that it had lost the feeling of loving and being loved. Once inside the maid, things were much different than the outside — no longer could it perceive the beauty of the maid.
The feeling of loneliness also began to overwhelm the maid who could no longer see her most wonderful love. The crumbs endured much pain as they journeyed with the maid along the path now in a different way. No longer could the pieces see the freedom road, the supple bosom, the gentle touch, those ruby lips. Acid sprays and gaseous affairs caused the dissolving mass of bread pieces much despair and chagrin. But the lovelorn bread crumbs now kept silent as they began to decompose into a vile substance.
The maiden, too, wandered off the freedom path, silently crying for the loss of her best friend and love. Then, in the passage of time, the ignoble remains of the bread that began to cause the maid severe cramping, were unceremoniously dumped back on mother earth.Oblivious of its new state, the wasted remains did get to see the beautiful maiden in her glory again. It cried out for her to hold her to her bosom again and made a heart touching supplication in the name of all it had sacrificed for her. The kind maiden, nowutterlyunattracted to this form, was nevertheless touched by the pleas. She wanted to stay and comfort the remains, and in some odd way reassure herself of her own good virtue; still, shecouldn’t simply disregard her newfound realization that the mound of dung no longer contained anything that was revitalizing of life and sustenance. She remained frozen, struggling with her virtues of loyalty.
For a long time, she just sat next to the dung, and she waited. And, while she waited, she lost her smile and began to forget how happy the bread had oncemade her. For its part, the dung pile, stillunaware of its malador, felt confused and hurt by the maiden’s unhappiness. It had, after all,never intendedordesired such a relationship of bitter pain and sorrow. Yet further, the maiden stood by these remains,evenas anewhunger arose within her. This new hunger frightened her, and she felt angered at the dung forbeing uselessin her present state.And so, it remained, theyremained in proximity,distant and … alone.
Soon the maiden’s kith & kin, who were out looking for this lost maid, found her in broken spirit and a disheveled statewith an undesirable mess by her side. There was a unified effort by the kinship to help her see clearly the silliness of any further future between a maid and a pile of dung. The sensitive maid, who had cared so, so much for the bread thwarted such efforts for a little while longer. . . until she could no longer bear her own indecision or the silenced dung. Then, without notice, regard, or regret, the maid picked herself and wiped her hands clean of the pile of mess, and went skipping along the path to pursue her happiness, and to assuage the hunger that compelled her to abandon the wasted pile.
The pile of waste mourned, but it had also realized that its appearance no longer contained whatit used to be. It remembered how it had mourned the loss of his plant visage,and then mourned losingthe baked bread form. To make matters worst, it saw the girl was already returning to the bakery to get a fresh loaf. The fresh loaf that she held against her bosom again made the girl very happy. And, with a monumental change of heart, the excrement felt happy for the girl’s happiness. For, as her best friend, that’s all it had really wanted for her. So, through self sacrifice, he released the girl from its haunting. Though the compost felt alone, it also felt glad that it wasn’t a burden upon whom it had treasured, and no longer the source of unhappiness for her.
As days went by, it shifted its inner vision about the memories of its precious moments with the girl, the days of its youth, of its former glory, and the nostalgia. It reflected on the joy it had provided, even now, as compost, to the earth and to other beings coming to feast on it. Soon enough, it began to break and crumble — some of it into the earth, other parts carried into the air till there was nothing left of the compost. The vile stench hadlong since disappeared, as did its manner and demeanor. The essence of the wheat plant had been carried into other places. Places such as the darkness of the earth, where it found timeless silence, peace, and Oneness. And so it was to be this way, till there was a sudden shrug, and the essence found itself flowing inside the chambers of … a seed, of a plant? What kind of plant? Perhaps a wheat plant,a grape tree, or something else? The mystery will, someday, self-reveal itself.
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