There was a chicken named Barbara who would fight with the rooster. She eventually stopped laying eggs after many years of laying them. She would still go to the same spot everyday to lay and warm her imaginary eggs. She would sit on the other hens' eggs and they would get mad. One month there were no worms for Barbara so she started pecking at the farmer's plant. She ate at his magic bean stalk and began to get very sick and turned blue. This is because she didn't say the magic words before eating the beans. The mouse saw that Barbara didn't say niskeiya sheyvatama so she got sick instead of well from the beans. Barbara said the phrase and she woke up the next morning, and immediately she could now lay golden eggs. All the worms were back and the rooster has became an old kind hearted rooster because the world had humbled him while she was in her years long slumber.
Written this morning at my request by my beautiful son, Spencer Jordan. Thank you Spence for indulging me. I have always admired your imagination. Unbeknownst to me you have a chicken....featured prominently in your photo.
I read recently somewhere that there is more truth in fiction than non-fiction.
Truth isn't only about facts; dates and places...it is also about what the inexplicable can say to the soul.
My own personal love of fiction ranges from classic novels to the HBO series Ray Donovan. I feel transported, much the same way drugs took me on trips, but without the negative side effects.
It seems we humans tend to bury our deeper fears and emotions in order to function in society, but something dies in the process, so we revive the drama, chaos, passion and whimsy by plugging into our favorite book, music or show. Our control is put on the back burner as we delve into enchanted lands, and feel feelings in a big way.
If miracles can happen in fiction, then maybe our own lives are less anchored to mundanity than we think.
No comments:
Post a Comment