Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘sky’

20140225

In aphorism, tale on 20140226 at 11:06

《What Is, What Wills》

Once upon the deep, dwelled two pairs of seafaring lovers.

Both lived rather normal lives aboard their ships on the sea, full of ups and downs, as anyone would expect to see upon the sea.

On calm seas, both pairs made love with the illimitable passion of lovers held at bay.

But the sky does what a sky wills, and so oft brewed blackened clouds with the inevitable unknown beyond. It was in these times that the difference between the lovemakers was never more lucid.

For when the storms blew in, as only a fool could deny the inevitability of, the seasoned couple ceased their lovemaking, wisely understanding their lovemaking to be powerless against warding off the mighty storm. To them, worry was a more worthy and more rewarding charm.

The other couple continued to make love like only reckless lovers knew, much to the chagrin of the other lovers. And it was true that the lovers’ lovemaking did nary a thing to make the storm go away, to shorten the waves, or to lessen the impact.

Also true was it, that the cessation of the other lovers’ lovemaking neither did anything to encourage the passing of the storm.

For a truth is a truth as is a sail a sail. Wisdom lies in wielding a truth, not simply holding a truth.

For in the end, to the common eye, it was plain to see that lovemaking -and its lack thereof- had absolutely nary a thing to do with the coming of the storm, the size of the storm, nor the passing of the storm.

With the passing of a storm, what remained for the eye to see was but two sets of lovers at sea and two kinds of love as they so fit to see.

One, a weakened bond of fair weather lovers, who made love only when the sea was calm, losing only the opportunity to love each other through and so weather a storm together.

The other, a strengthened bond between the lovers, who made love without regard to a storm (or was it very much with regard to the storm?), losing only themselves in each other whether or not came the weather.

For a storm is what only a storm wills, and love is only what love wills.

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20111012

In rumination, tale on 20111012 at 13:14

《Sink or Swim》

This is the story of how a child, a boat, a voice, and a choice found each other:

On some days, the sun shines and the wind blows.

It is on these days that boats float and children dream.

On the breath of the wind, billowing white clouds moved with silent excitement across blue skies and gazed deeply over still blue waters.

Far down below, a Child found a boat, and soon found herself afloat in the boat. But for shame, as the child would soon also find herself in a boat with a leak.

The stillness of the water slowly, but surely, greeted the shell with its silent entrance.

And so the Child did what only the Child could do, and that was to lift the water out again to the expanse of the blue.

Stymied, the Child thought, “I just wanted to go for a sail, but instead, I find myself with water to bail.”

A Voice said to the child, “It seems that would make you a plumber, not a sailor.”

The truth in these words so captivated the Child’s mind that the Child didn’t stop to question from where the voice came, but continued moving the water.

With a sigh, the Child replied, “‘Tis true -but I haven’t a choice, have I? I can only hope to stay afloat. How can I even dream of sailing this boat?”

“Oh, but you do and you can!” said the Voice. “You do have the choice to go overboard or to give up your dream. But, either way, you must abandon the naiveté with which you first boarded this boat.”

In silence, the child continued to empty the water from the proa back into the blue.

“Shall you jump ship and learn to swim? Or shall you give up your dream?”

The Voice waited.

The rhythmic sound of water leaving the boat ceased.

The Child peered into the water, leaning over the edge of the boat. And for the first time, the Child caught sight of her own face in the undulating mirror.

But in doing so, the Child had rocked the boat, to the point that more water threatened to claim its whole. And without thinking, the Child quickly returned to the center of the boat, seeking balance and stability.

The rocking slowed, and the Child at last spoke. “I must lead with my brain, but I must also follow my heart.”

Splash! The boat rocked once more.

And the silence that ensued was followed only by a ripple so large that spread so far, that its waves reached well beyond the limits of her shore.

20110402

In haiku, poetry on 20110402 at 13:48

when the sun shines true
blue sky, the clouds, imbue
an image of you.

20110217

In aphorism, proverb on 20110217 at 12:09

There is a time to be the root, a time to be the stem, a time to be flower.

A root buries itself in the dark dirt, that the flower may bloom into the blue sky.

20101227

In tale on 20101227 at 15:33

《Flawed in the Eye of a Bumptious Camel》

In a land where the sun shone without reprieve, there once was a Camel so proud, that he would spit at the sight of another animal. For in his eyes, the others -they were all flawed.

A Little Bird, ever observant, came to rest on the head of the Camel. “Who are you spitting at today, dear Camel?”

The bumptious Camel responded with a huff, “Ha! Who does that Elephant think she is?” With a spit in the Elephant’s direction, he continued. “What a silly nose, it nearly hangs on the ground!”

The Little Bird smirked with wisdom unknown to the Camel, and responded, “Dear Camel, that long silly nose of the Elephant is quite a useful tool, don’t you see? She gathers water like a hose. And when no water there is, like a trumpet, she bellows!”

The bumptious Camel hesitated in concession but for a moment, turning next to the Lion. “Look at that scruff! Can’t a Lion tame his own mane?” And the Camel spit.

The Little Bird with a smirk, followed, “Dear Camel, that mangy mane not only makes it look kingly above all the other animals, but can you fancy it with a bob cut?”

The bumptious Camel could not disagree and chuckled at the thought of a better-groomed Lion.

But he quickly straightened his face and forced another spit, saying, “But what about the Giraffe? Such a long, gangling neck –what is a head doing so far from its feet?”

The Little Bird explained, “Dear Camel, when the rains visit no more, and food is scarce –only the Giraffe can reach those yet green leaves, so high up in the sky.”

Once more, the Camel scrambled to save the last of his all-knowing pride, and said, “The Rhino –what can be said of that sore-looking horn, smack in the middle of its mug!”

But the Little Bird was no shorter of words than she was of wisdom. “Dear Camel, that unsightly adornment of a horn might be nothing to look at, but it serves her well when intruders threaten with presence.”

Conceding at last, the Camel asked the Little Bird, “And what about you? What is your forte that feigns a flaw?”

The Little Bird asked, “Who me?” and with tilted head, paused in thought before responding, “Why… these scrawny legs of mine, I suppose. They aren’t much to look at, either -are they!”

The Camel timorously chuckled in agreement.

“But, when I fly…” the Little Bird expounded, “… ’tis as if I fly without the weight of any legs, -free to soar where’er the wind dares me!”

And with these words, the Little Bird set out for a spin, spreading her wings and tucking those scrawny legs right out of sight. This talent pleased the Camel, causing him to look down at his own not-so-scrawny legs.

But before the Camel could sputter a word, the Little Bird interjected, “Oh Camel, your legs are just fine, strong as the quadruped that you are! Your forte feigning flaw is not your knock knees, but only what you yourself cannot see.”

The Little Bird landed once again on the Camel’s forehead, this time facing backwards, her own tail dangling just in view of the Camel’s eyes.

At this, the Camel was instantly flummoxed, but equally intrigued.

With eyebrows now disheveled, he goaded the Little Bird, “Alright, Legs. Enough with empty accusations; Enlighten me, if you think you may!”

The Little Bird peered backwards over the Camel and said, “Have you ever wondered why you cannot roll around and scratch your back on the grasses of these barren plains, like the other quadrupeds?”

The Camel was dumbstruck, for the Little Bird had spoken the truth –though he had never paused to reason why.

“Look at this back of yours, Camel. It’s got a big bump on it, like you’ve been stuffed with a pillow!” The Little Bird bounced up and down on the noticeable bump.

The Camel spit in denial, then dropped his jaw with waning disbelief. He craned his neck to the side in search, as he realized that he’d never ever even seen this so-called bump. And he found his neck to be just long enough to catch a glimpse of what was indeed a most un-smooth bump. The Camel’s eyebrows settled into a heap of newfound shame.

The Little Bird flew up to this bump and said, “Dear Camel –this bump of a hump of yours, this flaw –is your forte.”

The Camel perked up a bit with hope enough to relieve his mounting shame. “Do enlighten me, Little Bird!”

“This hump of yours explains why you alone can brave the desert sands, without hint of oasis, for days on end. This bulky bump of a hump is but a reservoir, with water enough to endure time itself in light of the blazing sun!”

And this time, the Camel smiled a –no longer bumptious– smile and said, “Hey, Legs- so wise are you! Now, I see… the only flaw of mine, was in the sight of my eyes!”

20101211

In aphorism, haiku, poetry, proverb on 20101211 at 12:49

The fool’s idea of freedom is a world without rules and the fool’s idea of power is to rule the world.

A world without enforcement is but a world without rules.

Freedom must reach all, if it is to touch even one.

The fool love a home without leaving it; the wise love a home by returning to it.

《rainbow》
Lofty and crooked,
united yet divided –
rainbow in the sky.

《wind》
The wind never stops
pausing only to enjoy
the beauty of stillness.

20101123

In aphorism, proverb, rumination, tale on 20101123 at 11:23

Apathy is fear, incognito.
Anger is fear, unleashed.
Action is fear, confronted.

With folded hands and closed eyes, we choose to be the fool, the dead, or the wise.

《Learning to BE》
The child asks the elder, “How to BE?”

The elder utters, “Child, close your eyes and fold your hands. And you will find the wisdom to BE”.

The child scans the earth and rebuts, “It is the fool that fold their hands idly and close their eyes tightly. I do not wish to be a fool, I simply wish to BE.”

Again the elder says, “Child, close your eyes and fold your hands. And the wisdom to BE, you will find.”

Hands raised to the sky, again the child refutes, “It is the dead that rest infinitely with eyes aclosed and hands afolded. I do not wish to be dead, I simply wish to BE!”

One last time, the elder states, “Child, your able hands are raised upwards, yet you fail to grasp; your eyes are opened wide, yet you fail to see. -That if all you wish for, is simply to BE, it is but with folded hands and closed eyes, that you shall understand -you already ARE.”

20101011

In aphorism, poetry, proverb on 20101011 at 13:20

Tis less important that you care what others think than that you think to care for others.

《home sweet homing》
blue skies bluing,
white clouds whiting,
fall colors falling.

20090821

In aphorism, idiom, poetry, proverb on 20090821 at 06:27

Below, a fractal of an interpretation of the Chinese idiom, 如鱼得水 – quite literally, “if fish, get water.” This phrase is often interpreted to be “like a fish back in water”; here is my tangent take, written for the wedding of two dear friends:

where there is bird,

there is sky.

where there is worm,

there is earth.

where there is fish,

there is water.

where there is two,

there is friendship.

where there is one,

there is love.

where there is you,

there is me.

20090331

In poetry, rumination on 20090331 at 16:39

《at least once》
I am a genius and a fool,
a gem and a tool,
the sky and the soil,
the harvest and the spoil.

《Minding Heart》
While my heart is soft,
brilliantly resilient,
it is my mind
that is strong,
never rigid.