The oracle decided to narrate a tale one day. The tale went this way . . .
(Illustration at the bottom to understand the story better.)
Once upon a time in a land of calmness and serenity, lived vague beings of life those were almost unknown to their abilities. They were rough and rugged and very insensitive towards knowledge and growth. A few courageous waves filled with dignity and empathy passed their forgotten land one day.
That day, everything was about to change.
A small shrub stood at the near end of the place. He was a peculiar looking being. He stood there uncomfortable with his leaves shredded; trying to give unasked explanations for his unimportant stalks of wood and twigs. He wanted more. What was ‘more’? he always pondered. His questions were always left unanswered, until a certain frenzy of courageous waves arrived one day; almost as if they made him want to know more about himself.
He looked around, nobody surrounded him. He was alone. He looked ahead; he saw herds of well developed trees. He looked again; he wished they were well grown trees, well evolved trees. He looked at himself again, and brooded, who would want ‘well developed’ when they could get much more. He looked towards his right and then towards his left desperately, hoping that some role model could inspire him and let him know that he was doing okay. But astonishingly all he found was emptiness; a bitter, sour kind of nothingness. He decided to look within himself now. He had always dreaded self-examination. The raw voice in his mind had always prepared him against it. But that day, there was something supersonic about those waves. Their free tendencies made him want to recoil and rebound back to reality. But, reality didn’t seem to excite him anymore. He wondered if there was more.
He looked for more, and instead he observed that his roots had limitations. His depth had limitations.
He wanted to know more about himself. He wanted to know more about the purpose of his existence. Lots of people had asked the same question before him, but for some reason, his attempt of asking this question made more meaningful sense to him. He had this urgent craving to feel complete. And, this urgency within him let to a bang. He felt his chaos was spluttering out and there was just mayhem and destruction everywhere. His chaos created noise and even the haphazard trees that formed a part of the crowd could hear his music. He didn’t know what he felt when he knew everyone began to realize that he was turning into something else. A weird kind of spotlight was fluttering over him now and it made him feel very uncomfortable. The spotlight was dense, mesmerizing and it was darkened in all the wrong places. The spotlight just didn’t fit in his life.
Just like those people.
An epiphany sought out to him at that moment. He looked around and realized how when he began this journey of depth, he realized that all what he was looking for was in him itself. He tried to recall how he could see the treasure he was looking for; but he didn’t know how to get there. And, now, this absurd light was teaching him how to get there?
He wondered how something so inanimate could teach him something so profound.
Was life just a metaphor for inanimate things? Had he mistaken the meaning of life all this while?
He tried to remember how humans would come to the elders, praise them, hail them, seek blessings from them and destroy them in the same beautiful manner they worshiped them. He never understood why they worshiped him if they wished to destruct him?
Thousands of questions made way into his mind, and little did he know that as he was questioning, new life was growing out of him right through his roots. His roots were expanding, reaching those depths he had always dreamt about. A new life began its growth vertically. Life traveled eastwards, but it never made peace with his chaos. The life never reached that panel.
And, as some parts of him began their process of imprinting by getting themselves stamped with black logs of wood, he discovered that he was healing. Healing in the most beautiful ways, and realizing that his peace would probably never reconcile and forgive his chaos. Yet, for some tranquil reason, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He almost liked the agreement his peace had with his chaos.
He had realized that life always finds a way.
He had realized that he would always find a way.
But most importantly, he had realized that even though he was classified as life; as all-forgiving, all- enduring life, he had evolved to be different. He had evolved to be a lost elixir. The only one who was allowed to find him, was he himself.
And, that was not such a bad thing after all.
The oracle turns away, hoping that he wouldn’t break the listeners trance and adds another masterpiece to his collection of life, love and solitude.
An ode to the never ending story.
To unchanging life.
Oracle says- “Let ignorant people be. Not all humans were made the same, then what makes you think all minds are made the same?”