[MD] bridge musing

[MarshaV]

At 05:40 PM 2/10/2008, you wrote:
>      With gratitude, Marsha, something creative is
>happening.

SA,

And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  :-)

I like your bridge musing.  Very much!   There a quiet kind of 
tension, a suspense, because I don't know what will happen 
next.  It's interesting.

Marsha



>      I've also noticed that I remember my dreams.  For
>the past year or more, that I worked at the very
>stressful patterned place, I couldn't remember my
>dreams.  I couldn't even remember if I dreamed at all.
>  Some people say you still dream every night/sleep,
>but I couldn't even remember if I did or not, except
>for every once in a while.  Ever since I left that
>place, my dreams have returned.  I remember them
>often.  Sometimes my dreams involve where I used to
>work at, but even those are dreams I remember.  For as
>long as I worked at that place, I don't ever remember
>dreaming about it.  Now that I've left, I'm dreaming
>about it.  It's not so much what the dreams are about,
>for now, though they are indeed interesting.  It is
>that I'm dreaming and I remember the dreams.  I'm
>still involved with other events, but I find, at least
>for now, some input on this forum is fun.  I may be
>able to respond and discuss, but I feel I need to
>limit my time, for balances sake, to how much I
>involve myself on this forum.  I'm going to try to
>keep other efforts that I'm currently involved with
>supported by a motivation that isn't too finely
>focused.  I'm trying to keep time open for the other
>activities.  This *bridge* is something that still
>stirs, and I would like to share this story with
>everybody.
>      I'll call this story "bridge musing" to further
>spin from what is on-going in this discussion.  Maybe
>it takes some time, a little patience, and then this
>happens...
>
>
>
>
>
>                     bridge musing
>
>                                - by SA (now)
>
>
>      An ordinary bridge stands erected over the
>flowing water.  It is wooden with stone foundations.
>Arched in such a way, that in this region when the
>rains come or the mountain snow melts, the high waters
>do not reach over the wooden walk way.  Along comes a
>bird, a black-capped chickadee to be more exact, and
>flying straight in to land upon the middle of this
>lovely bridge.  Who's hands have built this bridge are
>not known, for it is very old.
>      The chickadee sings a tune, one so beautiful,
>fish jump in joy of this splendid song.  Slowly, the
>chickadee quietens.  The song disappears and the fish
>go about their ordinary business.
>      A turtle rises to the surface of the water and
>calls up to the black-capped chickadee, "Which side of
>the bridge do you live?"
>      The bird answers, "I don't know."
>      "What do you mean you don't know?  Where do you
>eat?" inquisitively asks the turtle.
>      "I have fed on both sides of this bridge,"
>answers the bird.
>      "Where is your nest?"  asks the turtle.
>      "I don't know.  I flew so high into the clouds
>that I couldn't see the earth anymore, and when I
>returned through the clouds all that I could see below
>was this bridge.  Thus, I landed here," the bird
>ruffles feathers and flaps the wings in order to
>stretch.
>      "Where will you go from here?"  the turtle struck
>by answers that lead nowhere, continues to ask again.
>      "I don't know.  The view from this bridge is
>excellent."
>      "I know how we can figure this out!" a brilliant
>idea comes to the turtle.
>      "Figure what out?" asks the bird.
>      "Where to go from here silly.  We can figured out
>what side of the bridge you are standing upon, and
>connect that side of the bridge with the land in which
>it is closest to," with excitement the turtle swims
>closer to the bridge and looks underneath the bird to
>judge which side the bird stands closest to.
>      "Do what you must," says the bird, "I'm going to
>sing another song."
>      "Ok," says the brown with red stripes and dots
>including yellow as well in the same pattern - turtle.
>      The turtle peers up and can't find which side the
>feet and claws stand most upon.  So the turtle looks
>for a feather that might be dangling further upon one
>side of the bridge more than the other.
>     "seeeee, teetle, teetle, sweet, sweet," and on
>goes the bird, singing away.
>      The fish jump again, lovely is this song, "I
>wonder were it comes from," all the fish say in
>unison.
>      The turtle shouts to the fish, "The bird on the
>bridge is singing this beautiful song, and I'm helping
>this bird figure out what side of the bridge the bird
>is on."
>      The fish stop jumping and curiously ask the
>turtle, "What bird?"
>      The turtle simply states, "That bird on the
>bridge."
>      The music has disappeared and the turtle turns
>back to the bridge.  The bird is gone.  It must of
>flown away.
>      The fish look at each other and wonder amongst
>themselves, "Hmmm, I wonder what side of this bridge
>the turtle is from.  HShe's quite odd," and the fish
>go on debating until all is dark and nobody can see
>each other anymore, unless up very close for no moon
>is around tonight.
>      And the bridge says, "Hmmm, what side am I.  What
>of the air I arch into?  What of the land I arch into?
>  What of this water that flows under me, and on me as
>the rain?  I seem to be in all places, not one more
>than another.  So, what can I be called?  This land
>has a name, that land has a name, this water has a
>name, maybe I am simply bridge."
>
>
>
>woods,
>SA
>
>
> 
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*********
The universe is uncaused, like a net of jewels in which each is only 
the reflection of all the others in a fantastic interrelated harmony 
without end.