I think this is a great idea (Humans are VERY visual creatures, after all), but I think that it must be undertaken very carefully.
Tessa has intentionally stripped down the most basic elements of "What's Really Going On Here" (at least, in the mind's eyes of many), and managed to craft a tale that is palatable to ALL who feel the Creator's pulse, regardless of the window trappings, so to speak. My concern is that any attempt to illustrate this *could* detract from the lesson, particularly if the illustrations are too specific in some way (for example, illustrating the "race" of the people in the village, or their clothing). I could envision some very flowing, sort of free-form watercolor illustrations, however, that might compliment the tale nicely. :)
‘Lord,’ I prayed, ‘why dost Thou permit such suffering?’
“… ‘Look intently!’ A gentle voice spoke to my inner consciousness. ‘You will see that these scenes now being enacted in France are nothing but a play of chiaroscuro (light and dark). They are the cosmic motion picture, as real and as unreal as the theater newsreel you have just seen—a play within a play.’
My heart was still not comforted. The divine voice went on:
‘Creation is light and shadow both, else no picture is possible. The good and evil of maya must ever alternate in supremacy. If joy were ceaseless here in this world, would man ever seek another? Without suffering he scarcely cares to recall that he has forsaken his eternal home. Pain is a prod to remembrance.”
Now substitute the allegory's primary evil entity and replace it with any of the following: Despotic corporations, religious fanatics, medical personnel, academics, "experts," all and sundry, "establishment." Is it clear to you? Snap out of the "spell." Pray alone in sincerity.
All this is what my friend Steven Newcomb calls, brilliantly in my opinion, "the system of domination." The entire thing! Colorings change, isms change, but as long as the underlying principle is subjugation of free human beings and vampiring them, it's that sentiment.
Always know, its not the "belief," but rather the propaganda incorporated therein. Organized religion as a whole has been infiltrated ages ago. Evil has been made "fair seeming" and normalized into many so called, "religious" dogmas.
I've always believed that the war on carbon is also a religious crusade/jihad/fight for the true believers. The physics and the supporting evidence has never supported the idea that CO2 is a magic thermostat for the Earth. Their belief is truly religious in the way they block out any dissenting views no matter how much evidence is presented. Along with the boatloads of contradictory data and common sense observations, the whole theory that there is "tipping point" into runaway greenhouse heating is ludicrous after millions of years of life on Earth; inherently unstable systems simply don't last in a chaotic universe. (... etc. etc. ... but I'll cease my off-topic rant that could fill a book.)
Regarding a civilization ending disaster, I don't think we need a disaster. Systemic failures in our infrastructure are increasing, South Africa's unfolding nightmare is the model I expect. The (potential) global scale of the collapse means there will not be any escape or help from abroad. Perhaps local fiefdoms of will emerge like the lords of medieval Europe. Small scale infrastructure and transportation solutions for trade could be maintained by smart leaders in the right circumstances, hopefully.
OK Tessa back at you: this one's from oct 2020 but I think it stands the test of time:
Twilight of Idols
Long ago and faraway in a land not unlike our own, the emperor and his court noticed that fewer and fewer people were congregating in the many temples there. In order to restore this practice, the emperor ordered that all temples be shuttered and replaced with new ones. So the shrines to the cunning Bezos, god of commerce, the scantily-clad Cyrus, goddess of music, and the Kardashians, who with one look could turn a man to stone, were all closed. The new temples were prefabricated, exactly identical and all dedicated to a single new god: the abacus.
Now this abacus was the latest model, and the emperor believed it to be the greatest achievement in the history of the world. It contained millions and millions of beads, most of them so small that they were invisible. It was able to calculate enormous sums in seconds flat. It was decorated with all manner of bells and whistles. It even spoke, in a nasal, mechanical monotone that was said to be the voice of Gates, the most fearsome and powerful of all the gods.
Many people had exhausted their lives’ savings to purchase miniature models of this magical abacus, in order to be mesmerized by its many bells and whistles and to receive orders from the king of all the gods.
One day the miniature abacuses all simultaneously announced that the great abacus had calculated that the land was overpopulated. Townspeople were instructed by the mechanical voice to gather in the village square, where each would have his or her pinky finger measured. Those with pinky fingers longer than five inches would be ruled fit to remain in town. Those with pinkies on the short side would have to throw themselves into the great river.
The device used to measure everyone’s pinky was a glove, a ladies model with a hole at each fingertip. Quickly, it became apparent that everyone who had been measured, except for the great discus thrower Pedro Martinez and a couple of water-organ players, would be taking a plunge in the river.
In the ranks of the crowd of thousands waiting their turn to jump in the river, fenced in by soldiers, stood Cassandra the soothsayer. As the line of condemned townspeople moved slowly toward the riverbank, she came upon Ferguson, who was high priest at the central temple of the abacus. “Nice work,” she said sarcastically, raising her hand to high-five him.
Reflexively, Ferguson gave her a high-five back. “People! Did you see that? Ferguson just matched his pinky up against mine, and mine is even longer than his. But he’s not in line to jump in the river, and we are! This is all a sham!” Cassandra screamed.
The soldiers moved in toward her, but the crowd held them back.
“What is this nonsense about our pinkies? What gives this abacus the right to make us swim for our lives?” Cassandra demanded. “The abacus is not our god. It doesn’t know anything: it doesn’t even have a brain! It’s just a dorky machine. Smash the abacus and everything like it!”
With that, the crowd broke through the barricades. The soldiers fled the city. Ferguson, the emperor and his entourage were seized, strapped onto the catapult and sent flying into the river. The last item to be catapulted into the river was the great abacus itself, whose bells and whistles played a ghastly fanfare as it splashed in the water, then went silent and dark as it sank to the bottom.
In the years that followed, civilization began to flourish again, with an annual parade dedicated to the day the abacus made its final big splash. Shopkeepers and grape growers returned to doing calculations on leaves of papyrus, with quills dipped in red wine. And for years afterward, children were cautioned not to walk through the agora barefoot, for fear of cutting their feet on the shattered plastic and glass from all the broken abacuses.
And that is how this story can end if LOVE is the cure!! Love this and thank you! Can't wait to see your beautiful illustrations. But, don't make the Bad Witch Green or ugly with a wart on her nose. We know not that narcissists are the "baddest" witches. And they are charming and beautiful!!
Is the loving and singing of the Elders starting to make the people see the light? Is the globalist cabal realizing the people are beginning to see the truth. Will the globalist cabal soon pick up and leave, realizing that they cannot hold their control over the people? Stay tuned for part 2. Tessa, thank you for your love and vision.
I like a happy ending! Perhaps you'll find an illustrator and publish this story? Good lessons in it. Thanks.
Thank you, Kathleen!! I need to publish so many things... thank you for inspiring me to think about it more
👍😊
I think this is a great idea (Humans are VERY visual creatures, after all), but I think that it must be undertaken very carefully.
Tessa has intentionally stripped down the most basic elements of "What's Really Going On Here" (at least, in the mind's eyes of many), and managed to craft a tale that is palatable to ALL who feel the Creator's pulse, regardless of the window trappings, so to speak. My concern is that any attempt to illustrate this *could* detract from the lesson, particularly if the illustrations are too specific in some way (for example, illustrating the "race" of the people in the village, or their clothing). I could envision some very flowing, sort of free-form watercolor illustrations, however, that might compliment the tale nicely. :)
You have a point!! Thank you.
So many wonderful comments here! :)
Yes, Tessa could query 'Fairytale' magazine with it. I love it. Works on a lot of levels ;)
I liked the realistic ending. A parable needs to live forever, so that others who make mistakes can learn from it.
Let's hope we get to the "healing and hope" part and don't get stuck in the "tear one another to pieces" part.
Amen to that!
we get what we choose.
From Yogananda’s “Autobiography of a Yogi." :
‘Lord,’ I prayed, ‘why dost Thou permit such suffering?’
“… ‘Look intently!’ A gentle voice spoke to my inner consciousness. ‘You will see that these scenes now being enacted in France are nothing but a play of chiaroscuro (light and dark). They are the cosmic motion picture, as real and as unreal as the theater newsreel you have just seen—a play within a play.’
My heart was still not comforted. The divine voice went on:
‘Creation is light and shadow both, else no picture is possible. The good and evil of maya must ever alternate in supremacy. If joy were ceaseless here in this world, would man ever seek another? Without suffering he scarcely cares to recall that he has forsaken his eternal home. Pain is a prod to remembrance.”
Now substitute the allegory's primary evil entity and replace it with any of the following: Despotic corporations, religious fanatics, medical personnel, academics, "experts," all and sundry, "establishment." Is it clear to you? Snap out of the "spell." Pray alone in sincerity.
Wonderfully put!
All this is what my friend Steven Newcomb calls, brilliantly in my opinion, "the system of domination." The entire thing! Colorings change, isms change, but as long as the underlying principle is subjugation of free human beings and vampiring them, it's that sentiment.
Always know, its not the "belief," but rather the propaganda incorporated therein. Organized religion as a whole has been infiltrated ages ago. Evil has been made "fair seeming" and normalized into many so called, "religious" dogmas.
I've always believed that the war on carbon is also a religious crusade/jihad/fight for the true believers. The physics and the supporting evidence has never supported the idea that CO2 is a magic thermostat for the Earth. Their belief is truly religious in the way they block out any dissenting views no matter how much evidence is presented. Along with the boatloads of contradictory data and common sense observations, the whole theory that there is "tipping point" into runaway greenhouse heating is ludicrous after millions of years of life on Earth; inherently unstable systems simply don't last in a chaotic universe. (... etc. etc. ... but I'll cease my off-topic rant that could fill a book.)
Regarding a civilization ending disaster, I don't think we need a disaster. Systemic failures in our infrastructure are increasing, South Africa's unfolding nightmare is the model I expect. The (potential) global scale of the collapse means there will not be any escape or help from abroad. Perhaps local fiefdoms of will emerge like the lords of medieval Europe. Small scale infrastructure and transportation solutions for trade could be maintained by smart leaders in the right circumstances, hopefully.
OK Tessa back at you: this one's from oct 2020 but I think it stands the test of time:
Twilight of Idols
Long ago and faraway in a land not unlike our own, the emperor and his court noticed that fewer and fewer people were congregating in the many temples there. In order to restore this practice, the emperor ordered that all temples be shuttered and replaced with new ones. So the shrines to the cunning Bezos, god of commerce, the scantily-clad Cyrus, goddess of music, and the Kardashians, who with one look could turn a man to stone, were all closed. The new temples were prefabricated, exactly identical and all dedicated to a single new god: the abacus.
Now this abacus was the latest model, and the emperor believed it to be the greatest achievement in the history of the world. It contained millions and millions of beads, most of them so small that they were invisible. It was able to calculate enormous sums in seconds flat. It was decorated with all manner of bells and whistles. It even spoke, in a nasal, mechanical monotone that was said to be the voice of Gates, the most fearsome and powerful of all the gods.
Many people had exhausted their lives’ savings to purchase miniature models of this magical abacus, in order to be mesmerized by its many bells and whistles and to receive orders from the king of all the gods.
One day the miniature abacuses all simultaneously announced that the great abacus had calculated that the land was overpopulated. Townspeople were instructed by the mechanical voice to gather in the village square, where each would have his or her pinky finger measured. Those with pinky fingers longer than five inches would be ruled fit to remain in town. Those with pinkies on the short side would have to throw themselves into the great river.
The device used to measure everyone’s pinky was a glove, a ladies model with a hole at each fingertip. Quickly, it became apparent that everyone who had been measured, except for the great discus thrower Pedro Martinez and a couple of water-organ players, would be taking a plunge in the river.
In the ranks of the crowd of thousands waiting their turn to jump in the river, fenced in by soldiers, stood Cassandra the soothsayer. As the line of condemned townspeople moved slowly toward the riverbank, she came upon Ferguson, who was high priest at the central temple of the abacus. “Nice work,” she said sarcastically, raising her hand to high-five him.
Reflexively, Ferguson gave her a high-five back. “People! Did you see that? Ferguson just matched his pinky up against mine, and mine is even longer than his. But he’s not in line to jump in the river, and we are! This is all a sham!” Cassandra screamed.
The soldiers moved in toward her, but the crowd held them back.
“What is this nonsense about our pinkies? What gives this abacus the right to make us swim for our lives?” Cassandra demanded. “The abacus is not our god. It doesn’t know anything: it doesn’t even have a brain! It’s just a dorky machine. Smash the abacus and everything like it!”
With that, the crowd broke through the barricades. The soldiers fled the city. Ferguson, the emperor and his entourage were seized, strapped onto the catapult and sent flying into the river. The last item to be catapulted into the river was the great abacus itself, whose bells and whistles played a ghastly fanfare as it splashed in the water, then went silent and dark as it sank to the bottom.
In the years that followed, civilization began to flourish again, with an annual parade dedicated to the day the abacus made its final big splash. Shopkeepers and grape growers returned to doing calculations on leaves of papyrus, with quills dipped in red wine. And for years afterward, children were cautioned not to walk through the agora barefoot, for fear of cutting their feet on the shattered plastic and glass from all the broken abacuses.
Love it!!! Thank you so much for sharing it!!
Thanks for this. Somehow the name of the witch strikes me as Faustina? Oh, I would love to see it as a children's book.
That bad witch's parents did a fine job raising her.
You have an original take as always :)
Your allegory reminds me of The Intruder (1962 film) starring William Shatner.
made me cry!
Hugs!!!
I thoroughly enjoyed this. Thank you.
Thank you, Robin!
And that is how this story can end if LOVE is the cure!! Love this and thank you! Can't wait to see your beautiful illustrations. But, don't make the Bad Witch Green or ugly with a wart on her nose. We know not that narcissists are the "baddest" witches. And they are charming and beautiful!!
That was beautiful 🥲
Thank you 🙏🏼
Is the loving and singing of the Elders starting to make the people see the light? Is the globalist cabal realizing the people are beginning to see the truth. Will the globalist cabal soon pick up and leave, realizing that they cannot hold their control over the people? Stay tuned for part 2. Tessa, thank you for your love and vision.
Thank you, FreedomFighter!! Big hugs
LOVE IT!
Thank you!!
That was really good.
Thank you, Dee!
Hi Tessa, just wanted to show huge appreciation your way....at your opening statement.
I will want now to read the whole article🦋
Thank you!! xo
This tale describes the abuse of Narcissistic Personality Disorder almost perfectly.