The land was primed for a rich harvest after the first planting. Each seed explicitly chosen and sewn unerringly straight in virgin ground, rich with the potential of untapped nutrients.
As expected, the first harvest grew full. Bounty flourished from every sprout and the people wanted for very little. Some now call it the Golden Age. Enabled by the one who planted the first seed and continued by those that reached unimpeded toward the Light.
But no field ever remains isolated… they cannot. Their nature is not so idyllic; they must open themselves to the winds of change to survive and to grow.
And so it was done. The winds came and carried new seeds that planted themselves outside of the neatly ordered rows. Many balked at the disorder and the new types of sprouts that grew.
Still, the winds continued. The once orderly field that only grew perfect golden fruit now contained a rainbow of colors, not only new kinds of fruits but also vegetables of all varieties...and, inevitably: weeds. There was an exodius of those that refused to tolerate it.
The work of the harvest was no longer simple and the bounty no longer effortless. Each new, unique type of sprout needed a different path to reach the light. It was work that not everyone willing to do. Many sprouts languished and never produced because they weren’t cultivated.
Those that were fostered by the first planter grew fewer, but some adapted and taught old ways to newcomers. And from these: many tried to encourage the growth of these new sprouts. The harmony of the golden age was all but gone but even the chaos of colors that the field had become provided a harvest of its own.
If it had continued like that; it wouldn’t have been so terrible. It wasn’t perfect but there was beauty in what it was.
However, the harvest that was once robust and plentiful slowly became sparse and withered… stagnation. Sprouts still grew but most never discovered reason to flower.
The once bountiful harvests faded away. Many people tried to place blame for the state of the field. Endless chatter of who did what and who did not. The simple truth is that there was plenty to go around.
The field now sits largely fallow, a place where beautiful things once grew abundant. But the soil is ripe for new planting. It always has been. But it requires effort from those willing to see it though. Nourishing new sprouts, encouraging their growth, and helping them find their unique way upward toward the Light.
If enough walk this path, it becomes a new tradition. Something that is repeated and passed on. It is this tradition that has been missing: the one that returns the fields to bounty.
No comments:
Post a Comment