The Fig Tree

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A “Lean against… and listen” story that was given to me on this day three years ago:

January 6th, 2014

Today I nearly forgot that I had decided to kick-start my week with this writing prompt. So much is going on and I feel the urge to at last get my life into the tracks that I want them to be even though I think I already do: with writing blogs and learning about writing every day and of course reading. 
Maybe I just see it in a negative way and that is what is making me unhappy. 

Ah happiness :-)!
At Christmas I was watching “Despicable me 2” where Pharrell Williams’ song “Happy” features and a little later I decided to have this song for my “hymn” for 2014. My theme song for this year that hopefully will motivate me to get on with it.

What about you guys? Do you have a hymn, a resolution or just plainly a goal that you want to achieve in 2014? Then maybe follow the advice the wolf on my background on Chrome gives: ” Hey, whatever you should be doing right now ~ go fu….. do it!” 😉

I should be doing this writing prompt and so I do it :-):

I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to heal” for this writing prompt: 

 
“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “
 
This is what the storyteller is telling me today:
 
Today I guide you to a far-away land where a girl patiently waited for her mother to come home. She had gone to get water from the well a little away but today she needed much longer than normal.
The girl was afraid as her father had died a few months ago and they were living on a little farmstead away from the hustle and bustle of the city that ruled over the land. The girl desperately wished for her mother to come home and make breakfast. But mother would not come.
“Oh what shall I do?” the girl asked the lonely fig tree they were nurturing carefully, giving it water every day. The little family’s farmstead was situated right in the middle of an approaching desert and their only income was this fig tree and the goats which roamed the landscape for food. It was the girl’s task every evening to go and fetch the goats and bring them home for them to stay the night in the little barn her father had build.
The fig tree rustled its leaves and played with its fruit. After a little while, it whispered:” Give me some water little one” The girl who had waited under the tree for her mother looked up. “But I only have a little left and mother has not come home yet. I won’t have anything left if I give it to you and she won’t come back.” The fig tree considered this for a little while and then whispered again:” Give me some water little one.”
The girl looked out over the deserted plain towards the city which already gleamed in the morning sun. She turned her head a little and looked towards the oasis where her mother had gone to get water. The rocks which were strewn all over the plain shivered in the heat and she could see a little point quivering in between.
“I have asked the fig tree for advice. It gave it to me so I better follow it” the girl thought and went into the house to get the last drops of water in the jug. She carefully carried it outside the door and to the right where the fig tree grew on the wall. She gently poured out the last drops of water on the roots of the fig tree. “Thank you little one” the fig tree whispered.
The girl took the jug back into the kitchen and looked around. There was bread and butter and honey but nothing to drink left. “Oh what shall I do?” she wondered again. But as she did not find an answer she went back to sit under the fig tree.
The girl gazed over the plain which quivered with heat. Her mother should be nearby now but she wasn’t to be seen anywhere. The point the girl had seen before still was out there somewhere.
“Go and prepare some bread with butter and honey” the fig tree whispered suddenly. The girl looked up into the deeply green leaves and saw the fig trees not yet ripe fruit dance. “I haven’t been taught how to prepare bread yet,” she said.
“Go and prepare some bread with butter and honey” the fig tree simply answered. “Oh I am doomed!” the girl thought but she got up and got back into their hut. “What if I drop the honey or butter? What if I cut the bread too thick or even cut myself?” the girl worried.
She stood in front of the table where bread, butter and honey waited. She stood and waited. But her mother did not come. “I have asked the fig tree for advice.” she thought. “It has given me more advice so I better follow it.” She, therefore, went to the table took the knife and cut three even pieces of bread. She laid them out on the big plate they only used for celebrations. Then she carefully spread some butter on them all and trickled some honey on each of them. She covered the plate carefully with a huge bowl to keep away the insects.
But all this new work has made her thirsty. “Oh, I wish I would not have given the last drops of water to the fig tree.” She thought. “What shall I do?” But this time she did not wait for the fig tree to give advice. She went outside and caught one of her goats. It was the biggest one which gave the sweetest milk. So she took her back to the shed where the goats slept at night. She went back into the house and got the wonderfully decorated jug they only used for special occasions. Then she milked the goat and the sweetest milk the goat had ever given poured into the jug.
The girl was happy. “Mother will be pleased when she comes home and sees such a beautiful breakfast.” she thought when she took the jug back onto the table and covered it carefully with a cloth to keep the insects away.
She went back outside to sit under the fig tree again. It rustled with its leaves gently and whispered:” Well done little one. See over there……” and one of its branches pointed towards the oasis where the girl could now see a camel approach with two women sitting on it.
“Oh dear,” the girl thought “strangers and mother is not here! What shall I do?” She leaned a little closer to the fig tree to hide herself under its leaves and she watched the camel approach.
But the two women on the camel were not strangers. They were her mother and grandmother. How happy was the girl to see her family approach. She ran towards them and cried:” Oh, mother! Oh, grandmother! I am so glad to see you!”
Both women got of the camel and the girl could see that it was carrying a much bigger skin filled with water than her mother usually brought home. They hugged the girl and her mother said: “Let’s hurry in. It is getting hot and I have not made breakfast yet. You and your grandmother are hungry!”
But the girl answered: “The fig tree told me to make bread with honey and I milked the goat and everything is waiting on the table inside but I had given it the last drops of water and I am so thirsty”
Mother and grandmother looked at each other and then hugged the girl. “You have done well. Here have some of the fresh water we have brought first and then let’s have the breakfast you have prepared” they said to her. They gave her to drink and when she finished she watered the fig tree again. “Thank you for your advice” she whispered but the fig tree just rustled its leaves and played with its fruit.

 

fig tree by clive darra
photo credit Clive Darra via Flickr
under this creative commons licence
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

Lean against… and listen ~ 24dec16

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It is Saturday  and if I do not have time to take part in Linda’s wonderful “Stream of Consciousness Saturday” I do my own Stream of Consciousness Writing with a prompt that has helped me get back into writing many times. Feel free to try it out and let me know about the messages you received :-):

“I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to Heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa, etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

dd390-lean2bagainst

I hear the bells ringing but they do not call me anymore. I hum and listen and sing Christmas carols but they are only a faint memory of faith.

What have I done and who have I become?

Not sure I know. Not sure I need to know.

All I know is all is well. The Gods and spirits and angels are with me. They guide me. They protect me.

I have chosen to follow my own path. I have chosen to listen to my inner spiritual guidance because it has never lead me astray!

 

 

Lean Against And Listen ~ 10dec16 ~ So many of us!

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It is Saturday and if I do not have time to take part in Linda’s wonderful “Stream of Consciousness Saturday” I do my own Stream of Consciousness Writing with a prompt that has helped me get back into writing many times. Feel free to try it out and let me know about the messages you received :-):

“I quote Kasey Mathews from the WANA group “Write to Heal” for this writing prompt: 

“With paper and pen, or computer handy, lean back in your chair, or against the wall, or a sofa, etc., close your eyes and imagine you are sitting under a large tree with your back resting against the trunk. On the other side of the tree, a Storyteller has come to sit down and also rest against the tree trunk. With eyes still closed, just listen. Wait for the Storyteller to begin his or her story. When you hear it begin, simply write down all that you hear. “

dd390-lean2bagainst

So many. So many of us. So many of us have perished in the attempt to cross over. This new world found in the depths of quantum physics was nothing like Baxter’s and Pratchett’s “Long World”.

It was terrifying this loneliness. There were no creatures. There were no humans. There were no plants. Just a great big nothing and if you had no creativity to imagine “your” world you just fell and fell and fell and never stopped falling in the great big nothing.

The writers and artists and musicians were lucky. They could create in the blink of an eye and like magic their worlds connected into a beautiful cobweb of music, stories and images. The greedy ones, though, those who had dominated the old world, they ended up under a pile of gold, oil and whatever their minds were attracted to. No air to breathe, no food to eat, no nothing.

And so, in what you might call “an act of the creator” not only the new world but also the old was freed from greed and its perpetrators.

I do not know how I managed. I was one of the greedy ones. So successful when the others tried their luck in the new world in the old one as none of them came back and I just took over their empires. It was so easy. I felt like heaven and I avoided the connection points to the new world like the plague.

Until… until I got lost in that jungle where they promised me more gems. Today I suspect it was a trap set by the creative ones. They had conned themselves into my trust making out they wanted more fame, money and success but what they really wanted was to get rid of me.

But know what? They did me a favour. I stepped into the elevator that supposedly led down into a mine and then I fell and fell and fell and I was terrified and then I remembered. I remembered the days when I collected shells on the beach before the patron of our family took away my dreams. My screams still hang around in the old world.

And now I live on this island full of shells and mango fruit and jumping fish. No one around to beg me for favours or pushing me onwards on that fateful path of greed.

Just now and then I hear another one screaming and I know I am just a blink away from the elevator where those who do not know end their old lives. It is terrifying. This loneliness when you fall. And when you realise you cannot imagine anything else than your greed!