Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The rock, the girl, and the hope for freedom

An ordinary rock.  Nothing special, nothing important.
Once upon a time there was a rock.

An ordinary rock.  Nothing special, nothing important.

Except for this.  Under this rock lived an entire civilization.

A entire world of creatures who crawled, pro-created, lived and breathed the stifled, filthy air the rock allowed.

They were tiny critters; limited in imagination; ugly, useless but not evil.

They lived within the boundary of birth.  Their boundaries were harsh, settled and heavy.  They were, after all, the boundaries of the rock's edge.

Beyond their little. dark and limited world was grass, sunshine, the traffic of others, fresh oxygen. 
 But under their rock they enjoyed dark, moist, fertile, worm-laden comfort. 

Always they had a choice, of course. 

Like all creatures, every day they had the opportunity to scurry beyond the edge of the heavy, hard, dead rock that comforted them.  They could scatter into possibilities, golden daylight, rain and snow.

Some of them had done so, and disappeared to the outside.

The creatures left behind understood this.  And so they chose comfort.

Until the day everything changed.

It was a day like any other. 

Every day is the same as the last, when one lives under a rock.

They felt the pressure as she sat.
The creatures sensed it.  They heard the soft plod of her foot steps as she approached.  They sensed her interest, her curiosity as she walked around their rock and inspected their home. And then, they felt the pressure as she sat down.

Her presence was quiet - calm.  Even so, some of them knew their lives were about to change forever.

She was in search of a rock - the right rock for her garden.  Within moments, she was joined by others - assisting her. 

Under the rock, the little creatures felt the action.  Under the rock they felt the disruption.  Under the rock, they felt the change.

Within minutes their home was upended.  And nothing was ever the same. 

. . . and nothing was ever the same.
Humanity is like little creatures, hiding under a rock.

Sometimes it takes a great force, with a plan for new beauty,  to upend, disrupt and renew us.

The ripping of the old, the tearing loose of the hard, immovable crust that holds us tight to old assumptions - this does not happen easily.

It often happens against our will.

Even so, it is always, always available to us.

We always have the power to choose sunshine; to walk in the truth and enjoy the bright, clear inspection of decency.

Those who live under rocks are invisible to others.  Safe, unexamined, they live deep in decay and know not their own suffering.

If they cannot scurry free on their own, they can still be released.  Against their will, against their destiny - uncovered by chance and set free by accident.

It is, in the end, their only hope.

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