Warmth is Not Measured in Brilliance or Breadth

Man was sitting with his Fire, having grown her from nothing, to roaring flame. Over time Man had lost himself, where he was & any sense of time, staring into the embers, twigs, branches, logs, and licks of light that made Fire what she now was. This sparked a private conversation between the mass of Stars overhead the Man, and his Fire. They asked Fire with lament in their voices, “Why does he give you so much of his attention, as soon as you appear? We forever blaze in the sky, are awe inspiring, enormous, terrifying, bright and brilliant. How could you possibly compare to us!?”

“I cannot argue with your claims, for they are all true, but you all have miscalculated Man’s nature.” “Are you saying that you know something we don’t?”

“I’m simply saying that Man is not rational. He prefers the proximity of my warmth over your distant scorch that leaves him cold in the night. He prefers the full play of my flames over your occasional brightness that peeks through clouds. He feels pride in what he creates every night with me, whereas your magnificent creation is incomprehensible to him, and added doubt only finds his mind uneasy.”

“So just because we find ourselves far away from Man, we have now become forgotten?”

“You’re all farther away than anything he can compare to in time & space, in his quick and hectic life. Having his streets flooded with light over the past century hasn’t helped him either, he has almost erased you from his living memory due to this.” “Aren’t you next on the chopping block, to be excised from his consciousness?” “In this primitive form, perhaps, but he still has many uses for me that he hasn’t found a way to escape from just yet. I survive because my warmth is not measured in brilliance or breadth, but in intimacy and depth.”

“Do not fret, or be too hard on yourself Stars. Man is fickle, he comes from a species with amnesia. It is not fully his fault that he cannot remember as much as us ancient spirits, that he fails to honour that which is most high at times.”

Immediate warmth & kindness can overcome

distant beauty & brightness.

A Familiar Voice

One day Cricket was lounging around in the grass, talking with Fox. Cricket was voicing a grievance he’d been having lately.

“I despise listening all night long to those Frogs that hop around, croaking, surrounding our pond. Not only are they profoundly annoying, they are also loud and proud about it. They love the sound of their own voices, believing themselves to be singing together all night long.”

“That’s funny” said the Fox, smirking. “Not at all! It’s a disaster we all have to deal with! Why do you find it so funny!?”

“Do you enjoy the chorus you Crickets create every night?” “Why of course, what an absurd question… we sound absolutely beautiful.”

“Well didn’t the Owls lodge the same complaint you’re making, about all of you Crickets committing the same sin, of being tone deaf? At least in their eyes… or ears ehehe.”

“Oh please, you don’t dare compare us to those foul frogs!” exclaimed the Cricket to the Fox.

A familiar voice or language will always

sound sweeter to your ear than a foreign one.

Music to Who’s Ears?

The Owl swooped in from on high, perching just above the frog, who was resting in his pond at the base of the tree. Surprised at his sudden appearance, he asked him how successful the night’s hunt had been for him. Owl answered in an exhausted voice: “Horrible, the cacophony of cricket chirps had crowded my ears, and nearly cracked my head. Their never-ending nauseous noise was so vile, that I became dizzy as a result, and could not distinguish from it all the sound that I have come to love over the years…”

 “And that sound, that is music to your ears, was what Owl?”

“Why… the shy sliver of a snake through the tall grass that surrounds us… what else could it have possibly been?”

“There’s a snake nearby!? I don’t know Owl… because I’d rather not hear the hiss of a snake, I’d prefer to listen to the consistent chirp of those crickets, man.”

What threw Owl off had invigorated Frog, his stomach was chock-full, bursting at the seams with mushed up crickets that were unlucky enough to be captured by him that night.

The music you hate, is loved & sought by another.

The Sun and The Moon

Since our folk could remember the Sun and the Moon have taken turns tracing the heavens above us. One summer day the Sun was dancing in the sky, revelling in the admiration people heaped onto him, for his warmth and illumination. The moon became jealous noticing such high praise, and tried to replicate his actions as night fell. Humans, being so expert in discerning the motivations and feelings of others, couldn’t help but notice this shoddy imitation. They started laughing and mocking her as she rose and fell in the night sky. Any attempt to imitate light only made it obvious that she was reflecting the Sun’s brilliance. They took her for granted, much preferring the comforts of fire to light during these cold nights. The Earth, seeing all this transpire, comforted the Moon, and highlighted that which she herself had overlooked. Her Mother explained that without her, she wouldn’t be able to change the tides on her own – therefore disrupting the evolutionary process that brought about her progeny all over the land and sea. Her Daughter’s absence would mean the destabilization of her Mother’s poles, her position in time and space, time spent with her Father, the Sun. Hearing this the Moon realized that everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses. She now focused on what made her so beautiful: a sight to behold, a fleeting moment, a mistress to chase, to romance.

 Carve your own path, focus on your strengths.