A Parable for Don12
There dwelled in the land of Good Bush a stalwart band of warriors who felt threatened by a rapacious presence determined to steal their given rights. This common threat kept them bound as brothers, watching each other's back and fending off attacks both open and surreptitious. But this merry band played as well. They wrote stories of daring deeds, fanciful and free. They expressed opinions and stated cases and complained for all to hear and judge. They would tack these writings to a common message tree where all could comment and criticize. Should a brother stray from the accepted norm, the others would raise a great hue and cry, gnash teeth and pull hair. And the brother, chastised, would cease his transgressions, sometimes with an admission of guilt, sometimes without, an apology mattered not.
In the beginning the great council of Good Bush, in their wisdom, decided a rule keeper was needed and the council is always right. And the rule keeper, a fearless captain, wielded his authority wisely. For a while. Then one day a new rule keeper decided that a certain class of warriors, those who wore sandals instead of boots, were unworthy of life itself and proposed that they all be burned in their homes, women, babies, and all. And this burning was to be continued until all sandal-wearers were gone from the earth. And, horror of horrors, no warrior spoke up save one. Silence was thrown back at the lone warrior who protested. And the burn edict stood, saved in the archives for all to see and to be used to teach our children. And the lone protester grieved, kept silent for weeks and weeks, barely making his presence known. And the rule keeper was pleased, his fellow warriors had forgotten his horrible transgression.
Until one day another fuss was raised and our protester waded into the fray. The rule keeper was not happy. His thorn was back in his side. So he chastised the protester, he silenced his words with his powerful key, the petty act done while pointing to the sin of expression. The protester petitioned his fellow warriors, comparing his transgression to that of the rule keeper and the vigilant rule keeper struck again. His mighty key was used to remove the protest before the others saw it. . But then he used the same trusted key to remove all traces of his own crime. Purged from the archives, his name now stain free.
Appealing to the high council, displaying the foul, asking redress, our protester was given a pro-forma answer, written by a machine, "Wrong department, we handle only money matters here." So the petty rule keeper triumphed, his shame known only to himself where it matters not. And the protester? He rails against the wind. He writes stories and parables, some to meet the fate of the mighty key, some to survive. And the warriors, unwilling to care, have given one of their rights over to the rule keeper. Which right will be forfeited next?
Clouder..
In the beginning the great council of Good Bush, in their wisdom, decided a rule keeper was needed and the council is always right. And the rule keeper, a fearless captain, wielded his authority wisely. For a while. Then one day a new rule keeper decided that a certain class of warriors, those who wore sandals instead of boots, were unworthy of life itself and proposed that they all be burned in their homes, women, babies, and all. And this burning was to be continued until all sandal-wearers were gone from the earth. And, horror of horrors, no warrior spoke up save one. Silence was thrown back at the lone warrior who protested. And the burn edict stood, saved in the archives for all to see and to be used to teach our children. And the lone protester grieved, kept silent for weeks and weeks, barely making his presence known. And the rule keeper was pleased, his fellow warriors had forgotten his horrible transgression.
Until one day another fuss was raised and our protester waded into the fray. The rule keeper was not happy. His thorn was back in his side. So he chastised the protester, he silenced his words with his powerful key, the petty act done while pointing to the sin of expression. The protester petitioned his fellow warriors, comparing his transgression to that of the rule keeper and the vigilant rule keeper struck again. His mighty key was used to remove the protest before the others saw it. . But then he used the same trusted key to remove all traces of his own crime. Purged from the archives, his name now stain free.
Appealing to the high council, displaying the foul, asking redress, our protester was given a pro-forma answer, written by a machine, "Wrong department, we handle only money matters here." So the petty rule keeper triumphed, his shame known only to himself where it matters not. And the protester? He rails against the wind. He writes stories and parables, some to meet the fate of the mighty key, some to survive. And the warriors, unwilling to care, have given one of their rights over to the rule keeper. Which right will be forfeited next?
Clouder..
0
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...Never mind. I thought you said "A parade for Don". I had my lawn chairs ready. 0 -
I always like a good bush story .... especially with the weekend coming up!
[8D]0 -
quote:Originally posted by zipperzap
I always like a good bush story .... especially with the weekend coming up!
[8D]
When, and if, it happens, you'll find the real thing much more interesting than the story.[:D]
Clouder..0 -
Very thought provoking. 0 -
I don't really know exactly what that was about, but well written, clouder. 0 -
The beauty of a parable is that you can relate it to many different situations. I read something that others may not understand. Thanks, Mr. Clouder. Don 0 -
quote:Originally posted by dcon12
The beauty of a parable is that you can relate it to many different situations. I read something that others may not understand. Thanks, Mr. Clouder. Don
Another beauty of the parable, Don, is one can pretend to NOT understand it.
Clouder..0 -
Violence can solve anything.
Doug0 -
quote:Originally posted by whiteclouder
There dwelled in the land of Good Bush a stalwart band of warriors who felt threatened by a rapacious presence determined to steal their given rights. This common threat kept them bound as brothers, watching each other's back and fending off attacks both open and surreptitious. But this merry band played as well. They wrote stories of daring deeds, fanciful and free. They expressed opinions and stated cases and complained for all to hear and judge. They would tack these writings to a common message tree where all could comment and criticize. Should a brother stray from the accepted norm, the others would raise a great hue and cry, gnash teeth and pull hair. And the brother, chastised, would cease his transgressions, sometimes with an admission of guilt, sometimes without, an apology mattered not.
In the beginning the great council of Good Bush, in their wisdom, decided a rule keeper was needed and the council is always right. And the rule keeper, a fearless captain, wielded his authority wisely. For a while. Then one day a new rule keeper decided that a certain class of warriors, those who wore sandals instead of boots, were unworthy of life itself and proposed that they all be burned in their homes, women, babies, and all. And this burning was to be continued until all sandal-wearers were gone from the earth. And, horror of horrors, no warrior spoke up save one. Silence was thrown back at the lone warrior who protested. And the burn edict stood, saved in the archives for all to see and to be used to teach our children. And the lone protester grieved, kept silent for weeks and weeks, barely making his presence known. And the rule keeper was pleased, his fellow warriors had forgotten his horrible transgression.
Until one day another fuss was raised and our protester waded into the fray. The rule keeper was not happy. His thorn was back in his side. So he chastised the protester, he silenced his words with his powerful key, the petty act done while pointing to the sin of expression. The protester petitioned his fellow warriors, comparing his transgression to that of the rule keeper and the vigilant rule keeper struck again. His mighty key was used to remove the protest before the others saw it. . But then he used the same trusted key to remove all traces of his own crime. Purged from the archives, his name now stain free.
Appealing to the high council, displaying the foul, asking redress, our protester was given a pro-forma answer, written by a machine, "Wrong department, we handle only money matters here." So the petty rule keeper triumphed, his shame known only to himself where it matters not. And the protester? He rails against the wind. He writes stories and parables, some to meet the fate of the mighty key, some to survive. And the warriors, unwilling to care, have given one of their rights over to the rule keeper. Which right will be forfeited next?
Clouder..
UHhhhhh,,,what[?]
Jeff0
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