Returning to the question, “What’s wrong with being alone, independent, self-sufficient…?” a story draws itself within the mind’s synaptic framework. A story almost as old as humanity. A story from long, long ago, witnessed by the stars, and recorded, and told, by the keepers of time -basically, I’m just channeling here.
Once upon a time, on a lush and generous land, lived two tribes whose ways of co-existing with the rest of creation were as different as night is from day. One tribe was settled on a green valley, in a setting that could be described as that of a communal village, surrounded by arable land, at the foot of a wide mountain range and close to a riverbed. The other tribe, if one could call it that, was dispersed on a harder and less fertile ground, along the rising faces of the region’s mountains. The people residing in the valley were known as the tribe of Plenty. The others, belonged to the tribe of Scarcity.
In the village, meal time was a time to share celebrate, and enjoy the fruits of one’s work. There was always plenty to go around, and even if the times were difficult, it still seemed as if there were more than enough for everyone. Around the table, they gathered to give and receive, to share, and to solidify the love that was intrinsic in what they saw was the fabric of creation. Singing was for everyone to enjoy. Elders told stories that strengthened the villagers natural connection with Creation. Children played freely, beyond the reach of greed. The people of Plenty were smiling people. Happy. Relaxed. Thus they ate, and thus they lived.
On the mountainside, there were men and women who lived separated by the topography of their world, people who had little to no contact with the village. Hidden in the shadows, usually in groups of no more than three or four, but mostly as lonely figures, they would hunch down to eat, backs against the wall, always a meager meal, often raw, uncooked so as not to draw attention to oneself by making a fire. They ate nervously. They ate looking over their shoulders, ready to fight to protect their catch. They rarely smiled, never sang. Their faces were hard and tense. Their eyes showed not a hint of kindness or compassion. Thus they ate. Thus they lived. In the tribe of Scarcity, elders never lasted long. Children lived in a world of isolation, greed, fear and anger. And thus, fear, greed and anger were passed from generation to generation.
In the village of Plenty, where hospitality was a way of life, visitors (no matter where they came from, what they looked like, what language they spoke…) were always greeted with welcoming arms and hearts, even those from the tribe of Scarcity, who couldn’t help themselves from stealing food, and whatever they could get their hands on when their hosts weren’t looking. The villagers never minded the repeated thefts; for them it was just stuff. Surely, the mountain people must have needed what they took, otherwise they wouldn’t have taken it. What mattered was that someone could benefit from whatever had disappeared.
For a while, contact was scarce, although, the tribe of Plenty kept its village opened to everyone. But with time, and with word about this naïve people living, defenseless, in opulence, slowly spreading along the mountain slopes, the tribe of Scarcity, having been forcefully united by a strong man, who once was a very frightened and angry child, attacked the neighbors whose way of life it couldn‘t understand.
The pointless attack didn’t last long, but the damage was heavy. Most villagers perished. Violence makes hideous monsters out of those who embrace it. As for the survivors, although battered, frightened, they managed to escaped. A few men. Mostly children, women, and elders. They left their land behind and became wanderers. They walked through forests, deserts, or paddled on small boats across the unknown, always allowing Creation, despite what had happened, to guide them. The tribe of scarcity having destroyed the village lost a friendly neighbor that could have taught them much, and what meager gains were obtained were quickly wasted. Afterwards, it was back to the old ways. Each for himself. No room for weakness. No room for peace. No room for love.
Since then, this story has traveled through time and space, replicating itself ad-infinitum. And as a consequence, the two tribes have migrated, mixed and intertwined their worlds and histories, so that eventually, nothing other than choice can make one belong to one tribe rather than to the other. And, this choice is made, daily, by each and everyone of us, for in each and everyone resides both the seed of Plenty, and Scarcity.
Creation is bound by love. Creation is kept apart by love. Being part of creation, we each have the choice to embrace and be embraced. Or, we can choose to remain apart, create the I, the mine, and the other. Both ways are possible. Both are allowed -through love. Yet, one way is easier and more rewarding…
A few factoids:
1-Following the first exodus of the people of Plenty, a few of their direct descendants can still be seen wandering the earth, a homeless peoples searching for home, suffering the abuse of those in power, or most often, of those who are in need of a scapegoat to take their frustration on. But mostly, the descendants of this tribe, have been totally assimilated in all regions of the globe. They have no distinct look or language to differentiate them from others. Naturally, some of them are having a very hard time to fully participate in today’s consumerist life. In the end, we are all Children of Plenty, that is if we wish it to be so. Otherwise, may as well start wearing the colors of the Scarcity flag.
2-Lao Tzu spent time in the village of Plenty. There, he learned and wrote about the Way.
3-Buddha stumbled upon the village of Plenty, where Love thy brother/hospitality is the Way, and after a prolonged stay, walked out looking as some statues depict him today -you know, the laughing Buddha.
4-A man named Jesus is said to have spend a few years studying the way of Plenty, thus honing his catering management skills to miraculous levels.
5-And if you have a problem with any of it, remember, ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’, is a good one to meditate on.
6-This could go nicely along a good history book teaching creationism, or maybe not...
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