The mind is the seat of your will
But keep a hard copy in the study for when relatives need it.
The mind is the seat of your will
But keep a hard copy in the study for when relatives need it.
Why, oh why, can I not fly
To chase the birds across the sky
Soar on thermals over the land
Pass above the sea and sand
Laugh at those in gravity’s maw
Earth-bound terrestrial plodding corps
Whilst I pierce silvered fleeting clouds
Divorced from two dimensional crowds
Feel the lift above my wings
Glory exceeding the heights of kings
Eschew the paths mankind must tread
Know freedom of the winds instead
Once there was a pleasant and industrious (by which I mean hard working) tailor who had a beautiful seamstress (female tailor) wife. They lived in a small cottage on the edge of a quaint (nice, in an old fashioned way) village by the side of a rippling mountain stream. Life was very good for the industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife and their eleven contented (happy) children, all of whom were loved dearly.
One day the industrious tailor needed to go to the neighbouring (nearby) village to conclude (finish) some business, which involved supplying a bride and groom with fine outfits for their forthcoming wedding. The industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife had worked together for many days, and sometimes well into the evenings under the light of smelly tallow (animal fat) candles, to complete the order. He loaded the fine outfits onto his a rickety (wobbly) wooden cart then hitched (tied) his faithful old donkey to the rickety wooden cart. Bidding (saying) goodbye to his beautiful seamstress wife and eleven contented children with a kiss and a smile, he set off for the neighbouring village.
Now, the industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife and eleven contented children had always been very jolly, but they were not very worldly (street wise). They thought everyone was as nice and honest as they were. This was about to change.
For, a little way down the road between the two villages, the tailor, sitting on his rickety wooden cart pulled by his faithful old donkey, rounded a bend in the road and passed by the mouth of an ancient (old) cave. As the wheels of the rickety wooden cart clattered (made a noise) on the stones near the mouth of the ancient cave, the industrious tailor and his faithful old donkey heard a mighty growl, which made the hairs on the neck of the industrious tailor and his faithful old donkey stand on edge.
At the mouth of the ancient cave stood a massive (large) mean (not very nice), green, angry ogre. The ogre was angry because the noise of the cart approaching (getting nearer) had woken him up. As for being mean, well that is true for all ogres, all of the time.
The ogre now stood in the middle of the road and, feeling hungry after his long sleep, was about to start eating the faithful old donkey. “Wait!” said the industrious tailor. “If you let us pass safely to go about our business (work), I will bring you something nice to eat from the village when we return.” The ogre thought about this for a while and, taking one last longing (wanting it) look at the faithful old donkey, he said, “Very well, you may pass, but be sure to bring something fresh and tasty so that I don’t have to eat that old stringy (tough to eat) donkey.
At this, the industrious tailor and the faithful old donkey wasted no time in heading (moving) off toward the next village. Once there, he conducted (carried out) his business with the bride and groom, who were delighted (very pleased) with the quality of their new outfits. He then gave some thought to what he could take back with him to give to the ogre. Passing a butcher’s shop he saw a plump (fat) fresh, dead chicken hanging in the window. “Ah, that should do nicely”, he thought. He went in and purchased (bought) the chicken then set off toward home with the chicken on the seat next to him.
Soon enough, the industrious tailor and the faithful old donkey were within sight of the cave and they saw the ogre standing in the middle of the road waiting for them. The ogre sniffed the air as they approached and roared with delight. “I can smell fresh meat, let me have it quickly”, said the ogre. The industrious tailor handed over the dead chicken and, in a flash it was gone down the ogre’s throat.
“Is that all you have brought me?” said the ogre, in a rage (angrily). “That was very tasty but hardly a mouthful. I can see that I am going to have to eat the donkey and then you after all.” It was at this point that the industrious tailor realised that not everyone was nice and honest as he was.
“Wait”, he shouted. “Let us pass once more and I will return (come back) with plenty of fresh meat for you to eat. I have eleven contented children who are nice and plump. I can spare you a couple of those.” Of course, ogres, by nature, are greedy as well as mean. So, this ogre agreed to the deal and let the industrious tailor and the faithful old donkey pass by. As they went on their way the ogre shouted, “They better taste as nice as the last thing you brought for me.”
Shortly, the industrious tailor and faithful old donkey arrived home and told the beautiful seamstress wife all about what had happened. At first, she was terribly upset and scolded (told off) the industrious tailor for coming up with such an awful (bad) idea. “Trust me”, he said, “for I have seen how wicked the ogre is, and I intend (mean to) teach him a lesson.
For the whole of the next week the industrious tailor and his beautiful seamstress wife worked tirelessly to make two very detailed mannequin (life sized model) copies of their two eldest children, out of scraps of cloth. They stuffed these with straw and brussel sprouts soaked in chicken blood and juice. This made the mannequins smell as good as the real dead chicken given to the ogre previously (before). The industrious tailor then set off toward the ogre’s cave.
Once again, as he approached the cave the ogre roared with delight. “I can smell fresh meat, let me have it quickly”, he said. The industrious tailor pushed the two mannequins off the rickety old cart onto the road. Now, ogres have a reasonable sense of smell, but their eyesight is not good on account (because) of their living in dark, damp caves. The ogre leapt hungrily onto the two mannequins and they were gone into his belly in just a few moments.
Gingerly (carefully) the industrious tailor eased the cart backward and started to head for home. Before he had turned the bend in the road, he heard a loud groaning and noises a bit like thunder coming from the cave. He stopped the cart just in time to see the ogre running from the cave pulling up his tattered (old and ripped) trousers and shouting, “I’m not staying here a minute longer. The people here taste awful and give one the most terrible flatulence (wind)”. With that he was gone in a puff of smoke, never to be seen or heard of again.
A field mouse once sat at the foot of a tall cornstalk and started a conversation. He shouted loudly so that the ears of corn high above could hear him. The cornstalk listened intently to the mouse’s account of its travels to the far-flung corners of the fields, its near escape when pursued by a combine harvester, and its woes about the size of its family and how difficult it was to feed all those hungry mouths.
In turn the cornstalk explained about meditation and how this helped the cornstalk to while away its days in the sun, waiting for harvest day, when its seeds would be taken to begin a new life as something called bread. It proudly said that its very best seeds would be saved by the farmer and planted next year to create the next generation of corn in these fields.
The mouse said it was impressed with the cornstalk’s patience and with the care it took of its seeds. He asked, “Might I climb your stalk to have a better look at the seeds?” “I would be able to tell you which of your seeds will be those chosen to be planted when the farmer comes with his scythe”, said the little mouse.
‘I think not’, said the cornstalk; ‘I can be patient a little longer to find out and, anyway, it would tickle if you were to climb up my stalk and that might shake some of my seeds loose. I can feel that they are almost fully ripe now.’
The mouse looked a little saddened by this, but he said “Perhaps you would care to dance to one of my songs? I have picked up many a fine tune on my travels and, in some quarters, I am well regarded for my voice”. The cornstalk replied saying, ‘I would love to hear some of your songs, but I would prefer gentle ones, so that I might only sway slightly and not shed any of my seeds’.
Once again, the mouse was slightly disappointed by this response, but he began to sing anyway. As requested, he sang songs with a slow beat, but he sang as loudly as possible so that the cornstalk might not fall asleep. The cornstalk seemed to appreciate the music and swayed as if moved by the gentlest of zephyrs.
However, little by little and note by note the mouse reduced the level of his voice. Intrigued, and not wanting to miss a note, the cornstalk bent over to better hear the mouse. Again, the mouse lowered its voice and the cornstalk was forced to bend over even further, until her ears were next to the field mouse. At this, the mouse leapt onto its head, bit off all the seeds and ran away to feed his hungry family.
A thirsty fox came to a well along the road. He was just about to lower a bucket down the well to get a refreshing drink of water when a large frog sitting on the well wall spoke to him. “Good day Mr Fox”, said the frog. “What is your business here today, if I may ask?”
“Well, I am not sure that it is any concern of yours,” said the fox, “but if you must know, I am thirsty and need a drink from this well”. “Ah!” said the frog, “then it is just as well that we have met, for I fear that you will be disappointed. This well is quite dry, but there is another further down the road and, fortunately, that one isn’t dry. In fact, it is absolutely full of the most refreshing water imaginable”.
“Well there must be at least a drop of water left in this one after the recent rains”, said the fox. He picked up a stone and threw it into the well. Almost immediately there was a loud plop, as the stone hit the water. “See!” said the fox, “All is well; there must be some water down there”.
“I fear I have misled you slightly”, said the frog, “but I was only thinking about your health. The truth is that the water that remains in this well is quite unsuitable for drinking. It has somehow become horribly tainted and I fear that, if you were to drink it, you might become quite unwell”.
“Oh, very well” said the fox.” Perhaps I should walk a little further down the road and take a drink at the next well. I just hope that well isn’t tainted as well.” “Oh no,” said the frog, “the water in that well is as cool and clear as crystal. If you are thirsty, you would do well to set off straight away.” “Well I may as well go and see”, said the fox, and he trotted off down the road to the next well.
When the fox was well out of sight the frog leapt back into the well and joined its little tadpoles who were playing and swimming about in the well water. “Well now”, said the frog. “I have fooled Mr Fox and convinced him not to drink from our well, so we’ll be safe for now.” “Well done, Mum”, said the tadpoles.
Choice can be problematic
Each leads to its own consequences
Reason shouldn’t be erratic
It must override subjective senses
Consider then each decision
Weigh the different choices
Don’t view any with derision
Or listen only to the loudest voices
Some outcomes may not be desirable
Others could bring gains
But all options on the table
Can be reduced ‘til one remains
That one will pass the acid test
Even if it carries a bitter sting
It will always be the best
If to do it is the right thing
In the ebb and flow of conversation
Words convey much more than facts
They are used ON you!
They can, for example, encourage, chastise, cheer you, pull you down
What they always do, because they are intended to, is to affect you
If you do not realise this, you will become a victim of words
Every time someone speaks to you
Ask yourself the questions “Why have they said that?”
And “Why in those words ?”
The answers might not suggest a bad reason
Most people do not use words as a weapon
At least not all the time
But they do want the words to have an effect.
Listen if you will in the quiet of the night
To the scraping and scratching of things out of sight
To the noise of blood as it roars in your ears
To the beat of your heart as it measures your fears
Somewhere in the house a clock says tick-tock
Below in the street a key clicks in its lock
The third stair from the top creaks as it might
When stepped on in stealth by something so slight
Then hinges in want of an oil drop or more
Announce a faint shadow at the bedroom door
You turn on a light to see who is there
Not even a dust mote moves in the air
Return to the pillow, try to find sleep
The visitor is gone, no need to weep
I must stay positive, I really must
Scampering across this film of dust
Whiskers tremble on twitching nose
Alert, examining empty shadows
Mice, who once were spoiled for choice
Now mourn their loss in squeaky voice
Tiny claws make tinny sounds
On bare metal shelving battlegrounds
A dozen different types of bread
Empty spaces here instead
Beans and pasta, once stacked proud
Now all gone, with the crowd
Long life milk disappeared
Hoarded selfishly, and not shared
Toilet rolls that made a good nest
Vanished suddenly with the rest
Long gone ancestors and early forebears
Told of shortages in the war years
Awry the plans of mice and men
Failed to stop it once again
It might be a good idea for the Government to consider printing and distributing ration books ready for the next pandemic to prevent empty supermarket shelves?