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The Scientists Build Their Conches, But Shall Not Fly

orange and blue abstract painting

Think you can do better?

Or do you think you can’t?

Hesortagsine and standards

There are many who don’t know where they stand. In these ways they don’t know a damn thing about what they do. For these people they are the wrong pond to fish in, for they are never satisfied. Always hovering around the edge of ability, they never venture in to get to the true bottom. Swimming against the current, or just out of their range.

They know they can’t possibly fly, and that they are afraid to try. Afraid of failure. unwilling to take the chance. These people are never going to be great, no matter how much potential they think they have. Never accept that wisdom, at least in part. These people have the wisdom and capacity within them to fight, but are not going to fight their own battles, for they know deep down, that they are the ones that have been fighting those battles after theinction. And after theinction they have no one there to fight with. They have fought their way to the top of the food chain, and are a scared afterwards.

They think they have made it, and that they made it. They don’t even see that they have buttered their feathers. They are featherless.

Look around you. Yes, you have the stupid parts. Yes, you have the ignorant parts. Yes, I have the inadequate parts, but look at them next time. Look at yourself, as you stand alone, and then you will see your lack. No, you will not see it. But when another man, who is but a foreigner to your own world, looks at you, and in his eyes you exist only for him, you will see yourucking souls, yourbitcharestepnosis, and yourcomrioritizing ways.

Look once more at those other birds that roost in the trees, and really look at them. They are different from you, look at them closely, and then look at yourself as you stand alone. You are different from them, look at me, and these things will fade, and you will stand alone a long time.

Look across the brook and the forest, and discover something new there, something beautiful, something sublime. There is something sublime in nature, and the elements are serene and still. When you are standing alone among the branches, and you are observing the stillness, like fingers of light spreading out over the expanse of the lake, so you are beginning to see the Divinity in nature. This is not your fellow man’s Divinity, but the Divinity of the earth and sky and water, that is sublime. And many of those who are isolated there are fearful. When the sun strikes the water, they go into distress. There is no stem, and they do not know how to fly. They can be so much assistance to others, but they are selfish, and resistance to Union is incalculable.

Look, if you will, at the stork. As the wind blows, the stork flaps its wings, and goes on pushing the baby. In the meantime, the stork misses the baby. Suddenly, on the stork is written, “I do not know”, the nature of the world. The baby cries so loudly, and the stork is dumb, and the baby is miserable, and breaks loose and runs away. You are the stork! You yourself have not been born yet. As a matter of fact, I have not known you, yet. I am not your length of days, nor your years, though of course I know quite well the exact number of days and hours that I have been present with you thus far. But, who has time to play with words? I am having too much to do.

The stork hammers the baby’s head and shoves it off, and then the baby starts running away. “Run, come here, let’s play”. The stork yells at the top of its lungs, ” relentless, where are you? I do not know! “

I ran off to the field where the baby was lying still on the clears. “Come sit up,” I said. There she was, calm and quiet, her little feathers tumbled down her face, and her little brown beak was set wonderfully far away from her body. I gently laying her back on the ground. “Did you get the sun yet,” I asked her. It was already dark, but she napped like a little baby. I think she got the idea from the one who had carried her for so long before. She looked so peaceful. I lifted her and carried her to the stream where the water was sparkling clear and the plants were busy taking shelter from the cold, the stocking out all over the place.

blue and white abstract painting
The Scientists Build Their Conches, But Shall Not Fly
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