Once upon a time there was a rose bush in a beautifully landscaped garden whose purpose was to provide lovely decoration for the nearby building, a home with a family, a dog, and a white picket fence. All was well in the garden and the little rose bush lived a contented and often pruned life of leisure without ambition, without curiosity, and without fear of destruction. Happy, yes but complete in awareness of what happy really could mean, no, and yet it was an enviable life for it had no knowledge of good or evil, truth or lies, joy or sorrow.
But as chance would have it, there lived a unicorn who, sadly, got lost from his family, wandered off many miles across the plains, which were not really plains but more like rolling hills with many wildflowers, but plains seems to be understood as a general term for the terrain, and arrived in the garden of the home where recognizing the need to relieve himself, he selected a nearby rose bush and promptly fertilized it, left the area, and went about finding his way home. Unfortunately, he never did find his way home but instead made a new life in a cave by the ocean inhabited by fairies who enjoyed sharing their home in the cave by the sea where strangely enough they lived anonymously for many years until their non-physical state eventually took its toll and all of them vanished never to be found nor even acknowledged for having existed.
Meanwhile, back home our little rose bush fell asleep and had a nightmare about a man on a horse who was jousting in the garden and accidentally stabbed the little rose with a long spear. The initial stab was shocking in that it was unexpected and was a new sensation that seemed both wrong and right at the same time and resulted in a confused state not unlike those pruning times that although necessary and beneficial were not necessarily pleasant and inevitably caused a feeling of loss and gain each time. After the shocking stab, the little rose was removed from the bush and began to rise in the air and grew ugly and fat as it looked down on the rest of the garden with undeserved pride and arrogance. In the air, the fat, ugly rose changed color and became gray with scars all over its petals in a suspended state of horror that caused the rose to quake and scream. The aberration began to grow in its core, but also lose its outer covering. Petals began to peel, fall off, and as the thing neared the implosion point, the little rose bush woke up confused but also relieved that it was just a dream, a silly dream at that, not even worth another thought.
It was early but the little rose bush decided to go ahead and begin the day. Each day normally began with the rising of sun, an opportunity to glow as the sun rose and shone on the mystic dew that gently glistened on each petal, providing the rose bush a chance to blush with pride about his beauty. But today, as the rose bush waited patiently for the sun and smiled with anticipation, he realized he had changed. He had grown arms and legs during the night.
Now the little rose bush did not know about the unicorn that had fertilized it during the night. All he knew was that he went to sleep a rose bush and had awakened a walking and touching rose bush. He jumped with joy and began to walk around, gingerly at first, and then more boldly and aggressively, without any kind of sense of tenderness or compassion for the ground beneath its feet. But the newly found legs with feet and lots of toes did not have as much interest as the new hands, hands with 7 fingers and tiny thorns that gave each hand a special strength and an appearance that on any other object would be frightening but on our little rose bush seemed rather charming. The hands were fascinating to the little bush and he couldn't seem to stop touching things everywhere he went.
He began to explore the garden where he lived, reaching out and touching everything he could see. He had never had so much fun, so he sang a little song:
"Life is now so very grand
For a bush that holds a rose.
Attached to me is a hand
As well as 14 toes.
It is all so very fun
As I walk in the dirt.
I look up at the sun
And may I never hurt."
But as chance would have it, there lived a unicorn who, sadly, got lost from his family, wandered off many miles across the plains, which were not really plains but more like rolling hills with many wildflowers, but plains seems to be understood as a general term for the terrain, and arrived in the garden of the home where recognizing the need to relieve himself, he selected a nearby rose bush and promptly fertilized it, left the area, and went about finding his way home. Unfortunately, he never did find his way home but instead made a new life in a cave by the ocean inhabited by fairies who enjoyed sharing their home in the cave by the sea where strangely enough they lived anonymously for many years until their non-physical state eventually took its toll and all of them vanished never to be found nor even acknowledged for having existed.
Meanwhile, back home our little rose bush fell asleep and had a nightmare about a man on a horse who was jousting in the garden and accidentally stabbed the little rose with a long spear. The initial stab was shocking in that it was unexpected and was a new sensation that seemed both wrong and right at the same time and resulted in a confused state not unlike those pruning times that although necessary and beneficial were not necessarily pleasant and inevitably caused a feeling of loss and gain each time. After the shocking stab, the little rose was removed from the bush and began to rise in the air and grew ugly and fat as it looked down on the rest of the garden with undeserved pride and arrogance. In the air, the fat, ugly rose changed color and became gray with scars all over its petals in a suspended state of horror that caused the rose to quake and scream. The aberration began to grow in its core, but also lose its outer covering. Petals began to peel, fall off, and as the thing neared the implosion point, the little rose bush woke up confused but also relieved that it was just a dream, a silly dream at that, not even worth another thought.
It was early but the little rose bush decided to go ahead and begin the day. Each day normally began with the rising of sun, an opportunity to glow as the sun rose and shone on the mystic dew that gently glistened on each petal, providing the rose bush a chance to blush with pride about his beauty. But today, as the rose bush waited patiently for the sun and smiled with anticipation, he realized he had changed. He had grown arms and legs during the night.
Now the little rose bush did not know about the unicorn that had fertilized it during the night. All he knew was that he went to sleep a rose bush and had awakened a walking and touching rose bush. He jumped with joy and began to walk around, gingerly at first, and then more boldly and aggressively, without any kind of sense of tenderness or compassion for the ground beneath its feet. But the newly found legs with feet and lots of toes did not have as much interest as the new hands, hands with 7 fingers and tiny thorns that gave each hand a special strength and an appearance that on any other object would be frightening but on our little rose bush seemed rather charming. The hands were fascinating to the little bush and he couldn't seem to stop touching things everywhere he went.
He began to explore the garden where he lived, reaching out and touching everything he could see. He had never had so much fun, so he sang a little song:
"Life is now so very grand
For a bush that holds a rose.
Attached to me is a hand
As well as 14 toes.
It is all so very fun
As I walk in the dirt.
I look up at the sun
And may I never hurt."
1 comment:
Rob,
I stumbled on to your blog in some random way. You are a gifted writer! I had just about given up on reading blogs as most of them I have seen are from folks who are spewing hate or political garbage or worse. I found yours to be refreshing and rewarding. IF you get out to West Texas I'd like to get together for a visit.
I also enjoyed your article in the Standard on Worship recently - very good!
Keep up the good work.
David Harp
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