Story Time

The old man and the frog

The boat eased into the water quietly and the old man lifted his heavy boots over the aging wood, carefully avoiding his tackle box and rod. He tossed his faded orange life jacket onto the bowed plank that served as his seat and plopped himself into place.

The sky was gray and the damp morning air seemed to wrap around his big ears and dance off the back of his neck as he slowly paddled toward the center of the lake.

The perfect circles created by the quick movements of the water bugs as they skated across the dark green surface, brought a gentle smile between his weathered cheeks.
“What are those bugs called again?” He asked himself. His answer widened his smile, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” Was the truthful reply.

Hours passed as he sat with a slight hunch over his rod, hands crossed, eyes slits, sounds flowing through him. Suddenly he felt a soft tug on his line. He peered over the edge of the boat and cocked his head to the right in befuddled amusement at what appeared before him. A small frog was gripping the line with one of its forelegs and staring up at the man with wide eyes.

“What are your doing little guy?” The old man said rhetorically.
“I have a deal to make with you.” Replied the frog.
The old man’s head cocked dramatically from the right over to the left, like a dog trying to interpret a sound.
“Yes, I am a talking frog.” Croaked the talking frog. “And I have been in this pond for many years waiting for the right moment to confront a human and offer the following proposal.”
The man continued to listen with amazement.
The frog went on, “If you pick me up, row me to the edge of the lake and then kiss me on the lips, I will turn into a beautiful woman and happily become your fair bride.”
The old man leaned over with his arm extended, gently scooped up the frog and placed her on the plank of wood across from where he sat, just a few inches from his knees. He didn’t say a word, but simply paddled with a lightness he hadn’t felt in quite some time toward the shore. All the while he stared in wonder at the small green being in front of him.
When they reached the edge of the lake, the old man quickly landed the small fishing boat and then bent down and picked up the frog. He held her delicately in his wrinkled hands and gazed once more at this extraordinary creature.
“You are a talking frog.” The old man stated with a note of whimsy.
“I most certainly am.” Replied the frog, a slight grin seemingly appearing at the edges of her wide mouth.
With that the old man pulled open the chest pocket of his flannel jacket and dropped the frog inside. He then proceeded to pick up his tackle box and rod and began wandering back along the path toward the road.
“A muffled voice called out from his pocket. “What are you doing?” Cried the frog. “You must kiss me on the lips so that I may turn into your fair bride!”
The man continued walking with a boyish bounce in his step. “At my age,” He stated slowly, “a talking frog seems like way more fun.”

And so it goes.

I think I am going to breathe today.

We breathe in, and we breathe out. And so does a river, and so does an ocean, and so does an earth, and so does a sun, and so does a universe. Knot knowing leads to wonder and wonder leads to amusement and amusement leads to many, many smiles. . .

Limerick Time

There was a young lady named Bright
Whose speed was much faster than light;
She departed one day
in a relative way
and returned on the previous night.

Alternative Fuel

Movies

So it dawned on me, I took a little break from the movie watching world. The last movie I saw prior to last week was Iron Man in the theater. That would mean that my last movie viewing experience was last summer sometime, whenever that movie came out. I am not sure what inspired me to want to go see that flick, perhaps my childhood love of the Stan Lee stories- Iron Man, Spider-Man, and Daredevil were my pre X-Men favorites. Once I became aware of the X-Men, I continued with the others, but I wasn't faithful- my love was for the mutant school and their wise bald leader. I mean, I was a hormone filled teenager and the X-men had Rogue. And the X-men had Storm. And the X-men had Wolverine. Curves, control, and adamantium claws- just what every teenager is looking for.
So anyway, I went to see Iron Man way back when and my goodness, what can I say. It was dazzling. It was high energy. It was fast talking. It was witty. It was obnoxious. It was explosions. It was propaganda. It was America baby! Apparently it was all the movie one man could ask for because it seems to have tided me over until mid-January of 2009. Not bad Robert Downey Jr., Not bad at all.
But after a long hiatus I made my return to the movie viewing world with two films in two nights. One entitled Lars and the Real Girl, and another called Bigger, Stronger, Faster. Wow. What can I say. Apparently I found the Iron Man antidote. These movies were in some sense everything that Iron Man wasn't. And for that, I am so thankful. The First is an immensely touching comedy about a man and his imaginary girl friend and a community that welcomes her, because of their love for him, into their fold. So well written, so heart-warming, and so thought provoking. I really loved it. The next flick- Bigger, Stronger, Faster is a documentary about steroid use in America. It is done in a subtly funny way and the creator does a nice job of really presenting several perspectives and angles. It really turns into an exploration of American cultural values. A valuable movie on a few levels in my opinion.
So all in all, it was a wonderful return to the world of movies. The antithesis to my last viewing experience- like going from cotton candy on a shit stick, to a lovely basket of freshly picked strawberries and an apple right off the tree.

Story Time

The Magic Horse - A Sufi Story

A king had two sons. The first helped the people by working for them in a manner they understood. The second was called 'Lazy' because he was a dreamer, as far as anyone could see.

The first son gained great honours in his land. The second obtained from a humble carpenter a wooden horse and sat astride it. But the horse was a magical one. It carried the rider, if he was sincere, to his heart's desire.

Seeking his heart's desire, the young prince disappeared one day on the horse. He was absent a long time. After many adventures he returned with a beautiful princess from the Country of Light, and his father was overjoyed at his safe return and listened to the story of the magic horse.

The horse was made available to anyone who wanted it in that country. But many people preferred the obvious benefits which the actions of the first prince provided for them because to them the horse always looked like a plaything. They did not get beyond the outer appearance of the horse, which was not impressive - just like a plaything.

When the old king died, the 'prince who liked to play with toys' became, by his wish, the king. But people in general despised him. They much preferred the excitement and interest of the discoveries and activities of the practical prince.

Unless we listen to the 'lazy' prince, whether he has a princess from the Country of Light with him or not, we shall not get beyond the outer appearance of the horse. Even if we like the horse, it is not its outward shape which can help us travel to our destination.

Just ask Zeezee