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| About Me |
| Music |
| Ah...for some reason or another you're interested in knowing more... I usually prefer that some things be left to the imagination, but then again I've come across some fantastic imaginations. I guess it's time for the "I am" speech. *scratching my head* Hmmm...where'd I put those notes... I am Canadian. I absolutely adore different cultures and ancient civlilizations. Different religions peak my interest , as well a legends, lore and mythology. Music is my life-blood and so my tastes vary across the board. Basically, I like everything from classical to industrial. This past year has been a time of learning. One of the most profound things I learned this year is that I can fly. (No not literally) Below, is a story that was given to me by someone who wanted to give me hope, called "Tale of the Sands." I'd like to share it with you. "I guess this is my way of saying , "I'm far too modest to go on any further and would like to give you something in return for viewing my site." |
| A bubbling stream reached a desert, and found that it could not cross it. The water was disappearing into the fine sand, gaster and faster. The Stream said aloud. "My destiny is to cross this desert, but I can see no way." The voice of the Desert answered, in the hidden tongue of nature, saying, "The Wind crosses the desert, and so can you." "But whenever I try, I am absorbed into the sand; and even if I dash myself at the desert, I can only go a little distance." "The Wind does not dash itself against the desert sand." "But the Wind can fly, and I cannot." "You are thinking in the wrong way; trying to fly by yourself is absurd. Allow the Wind to carry you over the sand." "But how can that happen?" "Allow yourself to be absorbed in the WInd." The stream protested that it did not want to lose its individuallity in that way. If it did it might not exist again. This, said the Sand, was a form of logic, but it did not refer to reality at all. When the Wind absorbed moisture, it carried it over the desert and then let it fall again like rain. The rain again became a river. "But how, asked the Stream, could it know that this was true?" "It is so, and you must believe it, or you will cimply be sucked down by the sands to form after several million years, a quagmire." "But if that is so, will I be the same river I am today?" "You cannot in any case remain the same stream you are today. The choice is not open to you; it only seems to be open. The Wind will carry your essence, the finer part of you. When you become a river again at the mountins beyond the sands, men cay call you a different name; but you, yourself, essentially, will know that you are the same. Today you call yourself such and such a river only because you do not know which part of it is even now your essence." So the stream crossed the desert by raising itself into the arms of the welcoming Wind, which gathered it slowly and carefully upward, and then let it down with a gentle firmness, atop the mountains of a far off land. "Now," said the Stream, "I have learned my true identity." But it had a question, which bubbled up as it sped along; "Why could I not reason this out on my own; why did the Sands have to tell me? What would have happened if I had not listened to the Sands? Suddenly a small voice spoke to the Stream. It came from a grain of sand. "Only the Sands know, for they have seen it happen; moreover, they extend from the river to the mountian. They form the link, and they have their function to perform, as has everything. They way in which the stream of life is to carry itself on its journey is written in the Sands." Tale of the Sands, Idries, Shah, "Strange Glory" ed, Garry Goldberg, Toronto, McCelland & Stewart, 1975. |
| Tale of the Sands |