Get Going

"Get going, Child," The Prophet commanded."

"Why? Why do I have to get going?" The child asked.

"It's time."

"But I like it here."

"I know you do."

"Then why do I have to leave? Why can't I stay here?"

"Have you gone back to your 'can't,' Child?"

"I just love being here on the lily pad, Prophet. I like to float, don't you?"

The Prophet chuckled at the Child's evasion.

"No, Child.  I don't like floating. It's not healthy to float all the time. So, let's get going."

The Child loved the lily pad––the peacefulness, the protection that it offered.

"Will I ever see the lily pad again?"

"It depends, Child."

"Depends on what?"

"Whether or not you continue. The lily pad comes when you need to rest."

"And what happens if I want to remain here?"

"It will sink, and you'll sink with it."

"And you, Prophet? What will happen to you?"

"I'll get going and move on Child."

"Prophet?"

"Yes, Child?"

"This is soooo difficult."

"You mean to get going."

"Yes. I want to float the rest of the way."

"Oh my dear Child, many have lost sight of their true essence by succumbing to complacency."

"What's complacency, Prophet?"

"That's when you are satisfied to settle for something less."

"Oh," the Child whispered.

"So, do you want to get going or stay here?"

"Will you stay with me?"

"No, Child."

The Child took one last look at the lily pad and stepped out on the water.

  

"Well, Come on, Prophet, let's get going. Don't take all day!"

The Prophet's eyes danced with anticipation as the waves of the ocean rose to block their way.

Shalom,

Pat Garcia

Fisticuffs

"Fe fi fo fum," the Child puffed, prancing back and forth, fists swinging in the air.

"Watch out for the right!" The Prophet said.

"I'm watching, Prophet," the Child answered back, "But you're moving too fast."

The Prophet leaned to the left and the Child's fist hit the air.

"Keep your fists up, Child."

"They're up Prophet. I don't think I like this fisticuff game, cause I'm losing."

The Child swung and the force of it sprung backward almost hitting its face.

"Phew, this is hard work," the Child said.

"I know, Child, I know."

"Then why do people bully each other into fights?"

"Why are you learning fisticuffs?" The Prophet asked.

"Because the whale blew water on my lily pad when you disappeared."

 "And what did you do?"

"Nothing."

"You did nothing?"

"I only laughed cause it couldn't find anything to eat."

"You laughed, because the whale was hungry?"

"Well, Prophet, it was funny at the time."

"Did you think you were better off than the whale, Child?"

"Could be."

"Would the whale give you a ride, if the lily pad sank?"

"Of course, it would," answered the Child boldly. "I always ride on the whale's back."

"Yet, when the whale was hungry you laughed, and now, you're training your fists to do what?"

The Child looked out over the ocean and thought about the question. In the distant, the whale was combing the ocean for food. At odds with nature, the Child felt alone.

"Prophet?"

"Yes, Child?"

"Can you show me how to make peace with the whale?"

Shalom,

Pat Garcia

Every

"Every person cannot be different," the Child said to The Prophet.

"Why not, Child?"

"Because?"

"Because what, Child? Tell me what you're thinking. I don't understand because."

"Are you trying to tell me that every person is special?" The Child replied.

The Prophet shook with laughter.

"Why is that so impossible for you to believe, Child?"

"But I thought you said no one is an island."

"No, I didn't tell you that. You have come to that conclusion on the journey," The Prophet said.

"Oh yeah. I forgot about that."

"Child, are the days of the year the same?"

"No, Prophet. The name of the days repeats itself, but each day is different."

"And the months?"

"Each month is different," answered the Child.

"And the years?"

"You already know the answer, Prophet. Each year is different too," the Child said with some degree of frustration and began to twirl and twirl  on the lily pad. Suddenly, a smile lit upon her face.

"I see it, Prophet, I see it! The Child exclaimed excitedly as she twirled.

"What do you see Child?"

"Every person is different. We are unique and wonderfully made.  That's what makes us so valuable. Wow!"

Grunts of laughter like sounds coming from a volcano erupted out of the Prophet.

"I like that, Child," said The Prophet between spurts of laughter. "You're learning."

Have a nice weekend everyone.

Shalom,

Pat Garcia

Don't

"Do be do be bop, do be do be yeah, do be do be da! Da, da duh da, do be do be da," The Child sang. "This is so much fun Prophet."

"Do be do be da, do be do da yeah," The Child shouted and did a double axel landing on the lily pad directly on the beat do be do be da.

 The Child sang and a sound rich and deep came up out of the depth of her soul.

"Why don't you dance, Prophet?"

"I'm dancing."

"No, you're not. You're sitting there watching me," the Child replied.

"No, I am dancing, Child, to my own beats."

"If you say so," said the Child and continued to sang do be do be da twirl around the lily pad singing do be do be da.

"Eeeeeeeek!" The Child cried out looking into the horizon.

"Don't look at the wave. Keep on singing and dancing."

"But that's a big one coming my way," the Child said.

"I love to hear you sing do be do be da."

"But what about the wave, Prophet?"

"The wave is not significant. Keep singing."

"Do be do be da," the Child barely whispered as the wave approached. It lifted the lily pad high off the ocean floor.

"Eeeeeeeek do be do be da," the Child sang with a tremulous voice.

"Don't dwell on the wave," the Prophet said. "It's directly under you. You're dancing on it."

Suddenly, the ocean calmed, and the lily pad was floating peacefully.

"Prophet, where is the wave?"

"It's behind you, Child."

Shalom

Pat Garcia