The Rose Bush--Pt. III

Our friend, the little rose bush, sang merrily, walking along, touching various plants and participating in the natural joys of the world in which he lived, including the soft fuzziness of the dusty miller, the gentleness of grass beneath his feet, the sensitive and lovely petunias, the rich orchids, and the dedicated tomato plants which preoccupied the humans' attention more than anything else in the garden. Because the conduct of the humans was not to the liking of the little rose bush, he elected to ignore them and continue his journey and exploration of the garden without allowing his curiosity to be emotionally inhibited by their callous behavior.

He was amiable to all he encountered, except for those odd humans who remained rude and oblivious to the little rose, and he attempted to strike up conversation with the caterpillars and the plants who would converse. An outsider might consider the dialog to be banal, lacking in depth, and providing no sense of goal-direction, but to our walking rose bush in the garden of joy, it was exactly the preferred content for relaxed enjoyment. "Hi! Are you having a good day?" To which the caterpillar would answer, "Yes, I am happy and feeling good!" The little rose bush would smile and ask the bunny rabbit, who had returned to the garden after noticing the rose bush was no longer singing, "Hello! It is good to see you again. How is life treating you?" The bunny rabbit said with hidden irony, "Much better now, thank you." The rose bush smiled and decided not to think about why things were now better for the bunny rabbit.

All in all it was a happy day in the garden until he noticed that the dirt beneath his feet felt rather....well, rather dirty. Where this thought came from, he was not sure, for this was a new and unpleasant situation to our little rose bush having spent most of his life in dirt and never thinking anything negative about it. Previously, dirt had been home and something to enjoy and something in which to be prideful and something created for a sense of permanency and foundational for beauty in nature. Now, however, the dirt had become corrupt, diseased, a habitation for bacteria, a barrier to cleanliness, and the source for all things bad in the world. Suddenly the little rose bush felt a desperate need to get rid of the dirt and avoid it at all costs. In some ways, he did not enjoy these new and disturbing emotions, but at the same time, they seemed to be natural and out of control.

Dwelling on the dirt led him to think about the other ugly objects that surrounded him. He noticed the blotches on the flowers, the inconsistent and knobby bark on the trees, the worms seeking to destroy the tomatoes, the dark weeds creeping their way around the plants, the sharp rocks residing in the dirt, the despicable odors of the bugs and the fertilizer. What once had seemed joyous and blissful had become tension filled and frightening with very little redeeming qualities. This led him to question his unusual appearance of having arms and legs with 7 fingers and 7 toes, and in a rare, but poignant moment, he knew beyond any doubt that within him resided the 7 virtues and the 7 deadly sins, which although he could not define them, he was frighteningly aware of their existence. With this realization of light and dark, he hoped the virtues would overcome the sins, but more than that, he began to wish for an earlier time when he knew neither good nor evil.

Staring at the dirt and experiencing great queasiness in his stomach caused him to double over and to try and rid his feet of the clods that were touching him. But as he began to sweep the dirt away, he saw that his hands with 7 fingers and the tiny thorns on them that pained him on every touch, were causing a sharp almost metallic irritation that increased with each additional touch, and reached down into the core of his being. He looked, and for the first time realized that there were thorns all over his torso, and each thorn had an ugly, hideous appearance exacerbated by a surrounding flaming infection. A moment of reflection reminded him that the thorns had at one time been a normal part of his life and caused no pain, no sensitivity, and required no emotional effort. This moment lasted but a few seconds as his fear of the thorns returned, only to realize the thorns were growing quickly and threatening to stab everything in the garden.

Suddenly he heard an awful noise, similar to clap of thunder several octaves higher, and whirling around to find the source of the terrible sound, he saw something he would never forget and could not completely comprehend. He stared, frozen in place, hoping the terror in front of him was not real but knowing it had indeed really happened, and knowing beyond any doubt that his witnessing of the event had changed him forever. Too ghastly for description, the horror caused the little rose bush to lose his sanity to a world nobody should know.

Without cognition and in an emotional cyclone, he felt himself whirling around and around, spinning out of control, losing his legs, losing his arms, losing the horrid, growing thorns, and feeling the 7 sins as well as the 7 virtues leave his body, and returning to his former state as a sweet little rose bush in the garden. It had happened over a period of years in the space of a second.

All was well in the garden by the house with a family, a dog, and a white picket fence and since there is no such thing as unicorns, the little rose bush was still in the same spot as always, looking regal, and glistening with dew, and feeling that old feeling of contentment and joy. The frightening journey had not really occurred and he smiled as only a rose bush can smile and relished the upcoming day. Yet, for the first time, he was aware that around his stem were thorns, thorns that caused pain. To rid himself of such dark thoughts, he sang a song as our story ends.

"I am so happy here in my world,
Shining in the sun so bright.
It is fun to be simple,
And I do not enjoy the night.

Forever will I be content,
And never seek to know,
I am a little rose bush,
With my petals all aglow."

Knowledge is gain. Or is it?