a mother explaining life to her son

“But, why?” The little tree asked tearily to it’s mother, “Why does that person want to cut you down! It’s not fair, it’s horrible, it’s-” but his mother interrupted him, “We have told you before, Little One; every year some of us must go, but in their places new trees will grow, and someday, you yourself will be taken away, but only to a family that will make you warm and hang beautiful things on your branches,”

The tears spilled over onto his face and clung to his lashes. She said through a sob, “I don’t want to go, not ever! And I don’t want you to go!”

“Shhhh...” said his mother, stroking lovingly the new, soft tendrils of green escaping the brown of his bark. She took a moment, and then said, “That’s what I once thought, but then I found out where we go when we are taken away from the forest; we go to families who celebrate something called Christmas by putting gifts wrapped in colors under their tree, and hanging stars and mini presents on its limb. They give it water and warmth until the season ends, when they lay it out on the snow to rest,”

Her son sniffed and his lips puckered, but rested his head on his mother’s chest. He said in a tiny little voice, “I still don’t think that it’s fair,”

“I know. But you will understand. And you know that I will always love you, wherever I am. It will take many years for you to grow as big as me, but you will be a big, strong tree, and then you’ll understand,”

The two of them, the mother and the son rested there in each other’s company for a good long time, before the time came. The little tree sniffed and cried, and watched her go away, just managing to say, “I love, you, Mom,”

“I love you, too,” He heard over the wind.

we're not permanent / the passing of time

Think back to the first thing yo thought was permanent. Think about why you thought it would never leave. Why didn't you realize that nothing lasts forever. It's not something that you're taught when you're small.

Why
did
we
think
anything
was
permanent

It probably has something to do with how high up and how bright the sun is, or about how fascinating the moon is when it shines so bright at night. How can something that far away ever be destroyed. If it faded, we wouldn't be able to wonder about it anymore. We wouldn't be able to ask how it got there, but instead about how it left us.

When we look us at the sky, blue, black, or a weird funky grey, it is hard to think that it would ever not be possible to look up and wonder if it's going to rain.

We're not permanent. Mankind will change, grow, and eventually fade. Paper becomes wrinkled and then decomposes as bones become powder. Hot becomes cold as ecstatic becomes depressed.

All in the passing of time.

-Francie

What made him so bad?

"expect anything from anyone, the devil was once an angel"

What a thought. Sends shivers down your spine, right? Well, not mine, but I can imagine that some people may feel that way. Funny how sentences can just, get you thinking, isn't it? What happened to the anti-god? Why was he shunned aside, cast down like poison, flicked away like a beetle. I still believe that satan is just an idea, although many may believe he is real, but I still wonder; what made him so bad? What made people think of him when there was a murder or act of mad men.

What happened?

Was he abused as a child?

Was he gay?

Did he do drugs?

Drink alcohol?

Go to prison for stealing a loaf of bread?

When and where did he live? He can't have just been a phantom, drifting through time, although that's enough to drive anyone mad. Did he live in Rome? Athens? England? America? Perhaps he lived in a small island, all on his lonesome, waiting to be rescued. Was he in a shipwreck?

Or maybe he lived in the 21st century, and fell victim to cyber bullying. Maybe he was born with autism, and his parents didn't want him. Maybe his mother liked a younger sibling better than him.

Perhaps satan was who his was because of a prophecy or curse, or because he just chose to be so terrible. But I doubt it.

Maybe he was born and his mother smiled at him, and he had a cradle, and grinned a little baby grin, and had no idea what this world was going to throw at him.

Maybe he had dreams. Maybe he wanted to be president or prime minister, or have his own clothing and accessories line.

Maybe he looked up at the stars and never imagined from the height he would fall.

-Francie

Nature Is

Nature is a great place to think about values. When you stare at the poetic depths of the sky and the grass, you see the generations of ponderers, right on that spot. When you sit and let the wind engulf you, and think about all the things that you got wrong... It's beautiful.

Nature is a great place to see beyond what your eyes give you. To make reasons for the things that happen in your life. Gives you time to stop and think about what people tell you about yourself. That tree you see, it doesn't have values, the grass you lay on does not, either. Nature as a being has values. Because nature is a being.

Nature is a great place to seek reasons. Why did I do this, what did that action give me? It's the right place to think for your mind, when it's too tired from thinking for everybody else. Nature is a place to only think about you, what this body you hold as yours, and these feelings that you hold as yours, really need.

Nature is this story-book place that you though you'd never find. When you find you place it's just like spinning out of control underwater, and seeing what has always been invisible to your eyes. Seeing beyond the lines of reality and mortality. Being immortal for the seconds that you sit, untouched, in Nature.

Nature is a great place to ponder values. Because as you let your brain go, all the things you missed come crashing down into place. Nature will always be there, as a being, as a place, as a mind, to think for you all the times that you're just sick of thinking.

Nature is a place to wonder why all the thoughts passing by, when you're in your little happy place of fulfillment and joy, think like you.

Pondering Reasons

More then once people have pondered the reasons that we make ways of writing, singing, or preforming our feelings away. People have given others there thoughts in ways different from telling by voice since the beginning of time. The reasons we, as a race of people, do this, is still to be explained in words that all can understand, but each person has there own reason for wanting an outlet for there stories and lies, thoughts and feelings.

People also find ways of telling fact from fantasy by seeking out others peoples outlets. Watching a reading or listening to a song. A person will take a break from the reality of their own life, their own mind, by going to find out about others. They will be sent ideas from their brains, and think of it as a way of letting go. They will tell stories in their own way, weather by mouth, or pen and paper. They will type their ideas on their brain's typewriter, and change it until it fits the format. These musings will paint a picture of one's life, and one's own mind.

These notions kept forever and ever in this ever-changing world, will give the people of the future knowledge forever of the past's dealings with thought. It will give them a sense of exactly what has change. Weather these emotions are past down by word or by written document, they are remembered, because of mankind's need for their sensations to be remembered.

In the world that we've made for ourselves, we must remember that we must not forget the past, nor neglect the future. We must stay true to the beliefs that we, as humans, must share. But in this present that is continuously changing, we must stay the same for just long enough to remember it, to take note of who we are at every moment.

These outlets are not only ways for us to get away from ourselves, they are ways for us to save our memory on this earth forever. Ways to implant what we have right now in the memory of what we will become in the future. What will become of mankind.

The Witch Population

So, your a witch and you live in the big city and you look around you thinking about all the other witches. You close your eyes and point to someone and... oh my gosh! You're pointing to a witch! You walk over and you say, 

Hey! I'm a witch, too! 

And they look at you like your crazy and say,

 Uhh, you're kidding, right? There's no such this as witches! 

But there's that certain tremor in their eye that says, Wait, how did you know that? So you shrug and walk away, but she just stands there for a few seconds, in a way that definitely confirms your suspicions. So, you walk to another street corner, and do it again. This time you point to a young mother of two witch babies (twins) and you decide to leave her be, she has enough on her plate.

So, you walk to another corner. This one is less crowded. You twirl on your tiptoes with your eyes clamped shut. When you open them, your pointing into a shop window, at a girl who's trying to sell sandwiches (Get it? Sandwiches?) and your witchy senses tell you she's not having the best day. So, you take a Sharpie and a $20 out of your pocket and you write her a quick note about how amazing it is to be a witch in this big city. Then you go in and buy a pastry with the bill.

You skip down the street and down a staircase into the Subway. There's a teenager sitting on a bench texting on an iPhone, and you spy that her case has a picture of a witch on it. You can just imagine her friends thinking,

Oh my gosh! What's with the witch obsession?

You hop the turnstile gaily and hop on the first train that comes. You walk to the back of the car, and see a women of around 35 with earphones in her ears. She's taking a nap. You can tell that she's very tired, and really just wants to be at home in front of her T.V., so instead of waking her up you just leave her a ball of burning happiness in the seat next to her.

You get off the next stop and walk to your apartment building. Before going upstairs you stop by the mail room to see the elderly witch named Amanda. She asks,

What've you been up to?

And you answer,

Oh, just checking on the witch population.

-Francie