People all over the world are awed and comforted by a beautiful sunset. It doesn’t matter where they live or what language they speak or how they believe the universe works.
That, in and of itself, should give us pause.
Before discussing differences, we need to focus first on what we have in common.
The second reason for all these pictures is that to remind us both that the sunset is not just a picture — it is a process. It is panoramic; it is colorful to look at and that’s what we typically do.
Nothing wrong with that.
But the sunset also *guilds* things in various ways — some obvious and some rather subtle. Anyway, where you are, it might be too rainy for a nice sunset tonight. So, you’re welcome to imagine this one is all around you. I can’t make that happen with a few pictures, but you can, using your imagination. What the heck. Give it a try.
A different day’s sunset. A sunset painted this. Every sunset is somewhat different. The picture, of course, is never so peaceful as being there. But a picture plus your imagination can be.
“This is a test of your ability to survive! This is a test of your ability to survive! There is neither drinkable water nor any food source in the mud pit. Good luck!”
Sally bit her lower lip and looked around her. The eyes of her pit-mates seemed cold, calculating. Despite her desperate situation, she shook her head and chuckled inwardly. She muttered, barely audible. “Not exactly what I thought alien abduction would look like. How about you folks?”
A few eyes glanced at her warily. Most of the people in the mud pit were desperately trying to clamber up the sides. A few however, like Sally, watched the others carefully, trying to assess which strategies worked best. Some went to one side of the pit and sprinted across the bottom and then jumped as high as they could. Some attempted to dig hand holes and footholds in the slimy mud. A few not too far away, had knocked out some of their companions and were trying to scramble on top of them.
It was clear to Sally that none of the strategies worked. It was maddening. The top rim of the pit was only fifteen feet up. This was no ordinary mud. It was the slickest she had ever seen or felt. Handholds quickly disappeared. Climbing up the steep sides rarely allowed anyone to get more than two or three feet off the floor of the pit and even that progress was immediately erased as they slipped back down.
She remembered a hike along the Napoli Coast and then a movie image flashed into her mind from My Cousin Vinny. The Alabama mud had gotten Vinny’s car stuck after a rain. This was like that. Only worse. Another image flashed into her mind. Naked women dancing in the mud at a folk festival. Oh, yes. She had been one of them. Good times.
Again, the unearthly metallic sounds of the aliens echoed loudly over the speakers. “This is a test of your ability to survive. This is a test of your ability to survive.”
She muttered to herself, “Go screw yourself, octopus heads. Humanity doesn’t need your help. We were doing just fine destroying ourselves without your help.” Then, she took a deep breath and another. She thought: They are trying to panic us. People aren’t going to starve or even die of thirst right away. Let’s think.
Almost too late, she saw a huge burly man hurl himself directly at her. She dodged out of the way lightly slapping his back as he passed by her. He jammed his head into the muddy wall behind her and fell to his knees unmoving. She stared and wondered: Had he broken his neck?
She hated being the center of attention, but people panicked and screamed all around her. Someone had to do something. She stuck her fingers in the sides of her mouth and let out an astonishingly loud whistle.
Original drawing by Pierce Morgan
“Listen up! We can all get out of here! We just need to work together! Stop trying to climb up by yourselves! You! You! Get over here! And you! Sally pointed to and called out the six strongest and biggest among them. Here. Interlock your arms…”
One of the biggest men objected. “What are you talking about? You’re not the boss! You heard the aliens! It’s every man for themselves! It’s a test of survival!”
There were murmurs of agreement in the crowd. Sally shook her head vigorously. “Listen! Yes, a test of survival! That’s not the same thing as ‘Every man for themselves.’ We can work together and get some people out. Once they’re out, they can get or make ropes and help the rest get out. Trying to climb out on your own won’t work. We have to work together.”
There were a few murmurs of assent. Sally picked out four more strong but lighter folks to form the second layer of the pyramid.
Sally sighed. The pyramid was shaky. It would have been a lot easier if most of the people hadn’t already gotten themselves slathered in mud.
“OK. OK. Stay as steady as you can. Come on. I’m going to climb up and out. I will … “
Someone shouted in a loud voice: “How come you get to go out first! Let me go!”
“Listen! We’ll all get out of here! I’m going first because I’m light. I’m one of the lightest people here but still agile.”
The awkward pyramid fell twice. Each time, there was another argument about what to do. Some people went back to trying to race up the walls on their own. At last, when it was apparent that nothing else was even close to working, the third pyramid held. Sally carefully climbed up the lattice of bodies and was able to reach up beyond the rim. The ground beyond the rim was solid. Sally’s fingers grabbed the ground, some grass, some roots. She was able to swing one leg up over the rim.
A long low trumpeting sound vibrated the ground around her. She looked up and saw that a rough amphitheater surrounded the rim of the mud pit. A few hundred of the squidish aliens stared through their giant triangle of eyes while making their weird murmurs. She looked back down into the pit.
“I got out! Good work! I’m going to go look for ropes or vines. There may be a few more who can climb out and help me! We’re going to get through this!”
A few more teens were able to climb out as well, but the only tools they could find were some sharp rocks. It took most of the day to use the rocks to saw and chop through nearby grape vines, but by the end of the day they had done it. Soon everyone was out except for the man who had charged her. Apparently he had broken his neck. No-one could rouse him. He had no pulse. Apart from that, and a few minor sprains, the entire mud pit crew had escaped unharmed.
The squid-like creatures hooted a higher pitched kind of trumpeting sound when the last of Sally’s pit-mates had been hauled up out of the pit. Then, the squids raised up their tentacles in parallel lines and seemed to ride on invisible rays into their hovering ship. When all the squid creatures had left the grandstand and re-entered their silvery ship, it began to spin, slowly at first and then faster and faster. It rose slowly and then, quite suddenly sped away in a flash of blue light and an incredibly loud bang.
Sally and her pit-mates had no idea where on earth they were. They were happy to be alive. They had no idea how close they had come to failing the test of survival or had that happened, just how quickly the alien squids would have destroyed all of humanity.
She sensed that she was surrounded by others — some very like her and many very unlike her. Yet — she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was not right.
She felt — bound up. She wasn’t free to grow in the way she really wanted to. And now she was moving in a most peculiar way. Her ancestors had seldom moved in such a way as this except in times of great catastrophe such as an earthquake. Suddenly, she found herself completely disconnected from the nourishing earth. Beneath her was nothing but cold hard metal and a whirring vibration.
Now the warming sun disappeared, not as a gentle sunset. No. This was a sudden and violent transition from warm noon sun to complete and utter darkness. She sensed that she was not alone in this sunless prison. All of her fellow prisoners were also in a panic. Again, she sensed the cold hard metal beneath her and a deeper rumble of whirring vibration.
Then, and completely without warning, the sunlight again began to beat upon her with its full force.
Soon, she felt herself unbound. She struggled to understand. She tried to stretch her roots out, tentatively at first, as you might begin to wiggle your toes after waking from a deep coma. She felt an unslakable thirst, Then, she sensed moisture nearby and minerals.
She still felt as though she were in a very strange place. Had she formed her thoughts into words, she might have thought: “I have no idea why they would place me here of all places.” If rose had been human, that would have bothered her a great deal. But among her many distant aunts, uncles, and cousins, those who spent their energy decrying their placement, few survived. Her strategy, like those of her successful ancestors, was rather to spend her energy being as beautiful and varied as possible.
Her faith was strong. Had she had a verbal creed, it might have been something like this:
“I believe in the bees and the breeze.
I believe in my own heritage.
Like all other living things on earth today, my ancestry is 4.5 billion years old.
I believe in the power of my roots to seek out and find the nourishment I need; to keep in mind my goals of water and minerals. I push and push, and when I reach the impenetrable, I seek a way around. I dance the dance of life. I don’t avoid the strife. I relish it.”
In the next few days, visiting bees told her that there was plenty of sunshine around even though Rose herself was mainly in shade. That bee-speak was enough to give Rose all the hope she needed to grow tall and wide. She explored in every direction.
The bees that buzzed near Rose told her, in their own way, of the vibrant and varied colors of her many other neighbors. She found their descriptions exotic and evocative. From time to time, she attempted to emulate those neighbors. The buzzing bees would pause in their busyness on occasion to give her feedback on how well she matched the colors of her unseen neighbors.
Over time, she sensed the vibrations of other beings besides the bees. Feathering beings and furry beings, some large and some small. Mainly, they were friendly beings who admired her artwork. But there were also those who cared little for her artwork and instead simply came to feast upon her. Rose’s body became sustenance for mites and snails and aphids. Sometimes, other creatures came to protect her. She liked that. Sometimes, they failed to protect her and the pain became unbearable. But bear it she did.
Rose resolved to use the pain to make her creations more beautiful still.
{Translator’s Note: As a long-time observer and sometime discussion partner with the neighborhood ravens; as an amateur golfer; and as a professional psychologist — I thought it might be helpful to serve as a translator of dialogues. Our garden abuts a fairway, and the cart path is right outside our fence. As such, more than a few golf balls find their way into the garden. I myself have been known to miss an occasional fairway and hit the ball out of bounds.
It’s “winter” in San Diego. While “winter” is often synonymous with “bad weather” in many parts of the country, that is not so for San Diego. Today was mild, dry, and largely sunny. Like many other “winter” days in San Diego, it’s actually a perfect day for playing golf. It was in this context that I overheard the following conversation between a Happy Raven and an Angry Golfer. The dialogue is shown in plain font and the translations appear in brackets.
“SHUT UP! Hush! Tricky to hit a three-wood that far, but a perfect shot would put me on the green. Elbow straight. Don’t cast from the top. Relax your hands. Keep your head down. Here we go. SH#T! You f#cking bird! You made me pull it over the fence again! I’ll have to go drop it again down there.” [I not only cheat; I cheat repeatedly and I like to blame others for my own mistakes.]
“Caw! Caw! Caw!” [Own up to your mistakes. Otherwise, how will you ever learn to fly right?]
“Mind your own damned business! You ruined my shots! I’m taking a Mulligan!” [I cheat and I blame others for my mistakes. But I don’t care. What I really enjoy is getting angry.]
{Translator’s Note: It’s a good thing humans were smart enough to name our species Homo sapiens. Otherwise, the rest of the animal kingdom would never know that we humans are the wisest ones on the planet.}
Fire: “What are you doing here? Fool. I’m god here. You’re neither wanted nor needed. It’s over. Have an ice day!”
Ice: “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
Fire: “Bah. In war, it is I who kills. Flame-throwers, the gunpowder propelling bullets, bombs, and best of all, but rarely used, atomic fire. Oh, it warms my heart to see.”
Ice: “Yes, but I am your best partner, though you know it not.”
Fire: “You? Hah. Okay, I grant you, frostbite and cold have destroyed the bodies of many. Napolean and Hitler and Lord knows who else’s armies. But still.”
Ice: “No, you’re foolish and rambling as ever. I’m not talking about how I can help you kill. I’m talking about how I prepare the ground for you. Make people not care. Encourage the turning of a cold shoulder, a blind eye. Without me, people might never turn to you.”
Fire: “I doubt it. Fire begets fire. Hate begets hate. What does your little chill of indifference have to do with it? Be gone or I’ll melt you to water.”
Ice: “Perhaps. But I might douse you to smoldering embers. I suggest you think about it. We can work as partners. Each making the other stronger. Actually, we have been partnering, but I’ve never gotten the credit I deserve. You’ve ignored me too long.”
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