(Background: The children of the village asked Poet Mother why the well had two names, The Poisoner’s Well and the Wise Virgin’s Well?
Poet Mother told them to ask the well, not her.
This is the tale of the well:)
The Poisoner’s Well
The stones of the well began to sing the story
of the history of the well,
the one we had forgotten:
I live though I had to die young so that my wisdom could be known.
I live in the stones of this well and the murmur of the water
even though I was murdered long ago
by those who understood nothing.
Those fools.
They had built their well at the bottom of a dell in my village
where springtime poured the melting snow from the yards,
where the autumn rains washed the sewerage from the alleys.
And they called this puddle
the well of their fathers
When they became sick they bathed in it to get better.
When the well ran dry they prayed to their gods.
When the rains filled it again they praised their gods
and thanked them
by throwing copper coins, jewelry and other junk into the well.
Although I was only a young girl
and no one respected my wisdom
I stood up in front of the village council and said:
“Our well is not blessed. Still water cannot heal.
Let us abandon this foul puddle
so that our village doesn’t die!”
They became angry and chased me away
and send a message to my mother to reprimand me.
My mother cried because of me
and made me weed nettles with my bare hands
so that they could burn out my foolish impudence.
***
But when sickness spread though the village
killing young and old
I sneaked out of the house and went to the council again:
Summon your well diggers and I’ll show them
where they can find a well
with water that can renew the strength of youth.
Your well is no longer blessed,
it is infected with our own disease.
Some of them went into a rage and demanded that I be flogged.
Others laughed the way one laughs at a crazy person
and said:
Let us first test her! Let us summon the well diggers!
I led the well diggers to this place
where I had heard the murmur of underground water
during my wanderings
and I said:
“Here is where the well should be built.
Their well diggers were incompetent
and the divining-rod would not bend in their hands.
But I felt the pulse of the water’s vein under my feet
near the surface.
And they yelled at me, “Liar!”
and gave me twenty lashes for my blasphemy.
From then on the boys in the village began to throw stones at me.
My oldest brother accused me of giving the family a bad name,
and the young man of my desire no longer recognized me.
***
To be continued tomorrow.
Something is obviously dead here,
but it’s not a suicide or natural death.
A murder has been committed.
What has been murdered?
Moral? Knowledge? Perspective? Responsibility?
A feeling of belonging to a community?
Respect for life?
Who contaminates their own waters?
Why this primitive and Middle-aged behavior?
The cart appears to be shot through with a spear.
Perhaps it was running away
with no consumer goods in its storage space.
It was shot down trying to escape commercialism.
And ended up contaminating the water of life.
Who contaminates their own waters?
The shopping cart was an unusual victim.
The throw-it-in-the-river mentality
prefers cans, bottles and bikes.
Scenes such as these formed a backdrop
to the Climate Parliament in Norrköping.
The Parliament intends to throw knowledge
into the river of bureaucracy
unknowingly polluting the intellectual atmosphere.
We need some heavy guns now, so I’m turning the words of Elvi Sinervo over to you in the form of one of the world’s greatest poems. Ladies and Gentlemen, the tale of The Poisoner’s Well. ….
To be continued tomorrow.
Rust is a non-biological decay where chemicals attack minerals. Oxygen combines with iron when moisture is present to produce iron oxide, what we call rust. The rust shows where oxygen has been added to iron. This increases the volume of the iron and weakens it. The iron is destined to fall apart and eventually disintegrate.
From the earth has it come. To the earth shall it go. Powerful and heavy iron destroyed by the breath of plants dancing on a moist breeze.
“Investing in life strengthens the fibers of the future.”
Dartwill Aquila
Imagination is the product of creativity. There is no imagination without a creative intelligence to give form to an image. To be human is to be creative. We speak sentences that have never been heard before. We create them. To be human is to be creative. We can ask questions that have never beeen asked before. We create meals all the time. We use our creativity to make a map of the day with the logistics of dealing with the things that must and should get done.
The time is right to create a society where every individual shines in the dance of life.
“Beautiful words can slave under ugly lies.”
Dartwill Aquila
“By supporting each other we can reach out in all directions.”
Dartwill Aquila
W#T asked, ”Now let me get this straight, they invade a country, bomb it to bits, destroy the ancient culture and the infrastructure, kill one million people, injure many more, imprison, torture and cause 4 million to lose their homes while they take the resources of the country and claim that it belongs to them because they are the good guys?”
”Yes”, answered B!2.
”They cause catastrophic destruction, take the valuable oil for themselves and promote themselves as the good guys?” asked W#T and continued, ”You must be describing a fiction. This could not possibly happen in reality. Who could possibly believe this?”
B!2 replied, ”You must bear in mind that they have low-level biological intelligence. You can’t compare it with our high-level molecular intelligence. We can speak a book to each other in the time it takes them to exchange sentences.
”More important, their biological neural network strives to establish patterns of thought to work as instinct; a survival reflex to save energy. The human brain weighs about 3% of the body weight, yet uses 17% of the energy. That’s an expensive organ.”
”Of course, you’re right B!2. I understand. They possess a survival strategy that requires solid structures of thought to cut down on thinking. The less one has to think, the less energy is needed.”
”You obviously do understand,” encouraged B!2.
”And …” continued W#T with dramatic eagerness, ”the stable thought pattern, the instinct-like behavior, works effectively in the context in which it develops, but can become a heavy handicap under different times and circumstances.”
”Thanks for explaining it in your own words,” said B!2. ”Culture is the main source of creating instinct-like thoughts and behavior. Cultural patterns take control of the mind so effectively that they feel ”natural”. Learning also chisels patterns of thought into the structure of thinking to help individuals navigate in the world that they will meet. When the brain knows how to deal with a problem it requires much less energy than if it don’t. A trauma can establish a solid pattern of thought. The commercial occupation of minds tells the consumers how they should eat, clean themselves, wear, do and think to lessen their need to think themselves. And to insure obedience to the dictates of commercial interests, they also tell the consumers how insignificant they are and how they should eat, clean themselves, wear, do and think to lessen their insignificance.”
Let me guess interrupted W#T, ”The Good Guys have their own channels of pattern-forming as well.”
”If!” replied B!2. ”The Good Guys own six media enterprises that cover 85% of media coverage from books to films, from magazines to TV to internet and from comics to sports and gambling. The Good Guys pour it on, all the time everywhere.”
B!2 gestured to W#T to express the conclusion.
”The Good Guys are unquestionably—instinctively—good. Therefore, what ever they do must be good or they’re doing it for a good reason. Consequently, mentioning The Good Guys raping a nation and stealing its treasures cannot register because good guys don’t do these things.”
“Biological intelligence!” said B!2.
“Biological intelligence!” repeated W#T.
NOTICE: There will be no blogs this week because colleagues from my own planet (!Z!) are here to discuss my report about humans on earth.
“Because of their weak intelligence and powerful arrogance
humans speak of life as though it were exclusively biological.”
from my report to the research council on !Z!.
Liquid, solid, fire and gas.
Different forms of energy as mass.
All for you holding life’s pass.
Not enough?
How about a kick in your existential ass?
“We can’t buy a reverence for life and without it, we’re sold.”
Dartwill Aquila
Gentle rain.
Giddy greenery drinking wildly.
The air is fat with oxygen.
Rich life generously splashes health on anyone
wandering through its wealth.
“Life is priceless. Health is wealth. Love is holy.”
Dartwill Aquila
This is the novel of a tree. We see the cover of the story as told by its roots. The earth has read it over the years and learned about the passions, struggles, joys and love of its experience. Reverently, and very slowly, the earth will take it to its heart and honor its contribution to the accumulation of energy by allowing it to nourish life.
“No one will be remembered
when there is no longer anybody to remember.”
Dartwill Aquila
System Humanity 