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has learned first hand, that being greedy would rob him of freedom. the same monkey then, seeking true wisdom visited the termite who showed him the way to enlightenment, understanding of the existence of the great plan and how to read it. read the signs of sense and consequence of every tiny deed and action, follow the casade of events and understand their wisdom, moral. in short, the magnificence of existence. he went back to his communty of monkeys, and was welcomed as the enlightened one, the wise one by some. he taught them what he has learned of the termite, how he understood it, and they discussed their consequences for monkey life, and created a codex describing how a monkey is to live, lest it damages the natural cause of things. their teaching is summarized in fourty-two volumes of "how to be a good monkey, an introduction", and its supplementary hundred-and-thirty-seven volumes of "lives of great monkeys", which are most certainly the greatest work of all monkey civilization, and a great source of inspiration and guidance for their daily lives. although there is enough debate among the monkey pundits, as to eating worms and other insects is a right thing to do, or if treating your wife roughly would be an acceptable thing. but those are particular matters of only practical interest and certainly cannot shed a doubt about the wisdom of the teaching itself. the history of the emergence of the great monkey wisdom, and the ensuing wars with the non-believing monkeys and how it prevailed, is too a very interesting story, but not this one. in this story, the first enlightened monkey, after it has lived its fulfilling life which has become a beacon of hope for all monkeys, has just died- just like every other monkey does, as the great plan demands. and he was reincarnated as a human. why a monkey, who even dreams up founding a religion of everything and anything, cannot end his life in the way he has imagined, but rather in a way supporting reincarnation theory, is not the topic of this story. there might or not be some articles about this, about how humans interpret animal traits from human point of view, therefore project the deeds into their own setting, without really understand what is going on, but that too is not this story. this is not a discussion of the antropological principle, but just a story, and as all stories go, it does what it does, sometimes pointless things just to add to the tension of things. the reincarnated monkey, being of wisdom seeking nature while he was as a monkey, became also a man seeking wisdom. his life and how he came to seek budha, is not the topic of this story. he became indeed the man who was there in the presence of the true budha sitting under the banyan tree teaching his disciples the truth, how to reach enlightenment, nirvana. he was the man who asked budha to explain the nature of enlightenment, and was given the tiny flower with the most intriguing smile. it cannot be stressed how essential it is, although it might sound presupposional, that it is explicitly expressed at this point of the story, that neither budha nor the reincarnation of monkey, were homosexuals. in this story, giving of flower is to be taken not as a sign of sexual interest, but rather the message itself, as itself. this too is bit like a zen thing after all- like the noise of the tree falling in the forest, if no one is around to hear did it make a sound after all? like all stories go, the original story of the reincarnated monkey getting the flower from budha, finding enlightenment stops just there where things begin
getting interesting- namely just here. not what actually happens after the reincarnated monkey attains enlightenment. but this story begins just there, and tells of the enlightened man, with a flower in his hand. in the process of becoming enlightened, among many other fantastic abilities, the man had attained the facility of talking practically with anything, every being. so he would talk with the flower he just got, which was the message after all, and learn of what he would tell him. "oh the most magnificient flower, which showed me the way to enlightenment. i was once ignorant of the truth, and a monkey, merely slave of its own flesh, driven by my instincts and greed. i have sought wisdom, and found it by a termite, who told me of the great plan, and made me see its mysterious ways, making me realize there is much more to the universe than i previously thought there was, and my role in it and my participation was essential. so in return, i went back to my people and taught them the way of the great plan. i was rewarded for my efforts, and became human in my next life. i sought further the truth and enlightenment, which i found by budha, and you are the message given to me, the vessel. i want to express my sincere gratitude to you" he said. "i shall keep and treasure you forever to remind me of the most wonderful moment of my life, and what i was granted with." and the flower answered "oh you foolish man, you make me weak. the way you delude yourself of your wisdom, and the sense of everything and the universe, would be touching if it weren't annoying. it is best described as pathetic, with all the cheese on it. what do you expect me to tell you so that you have yet another story?" the man was astonished... he stopped to listen what the flower was saying. "you have no definition of your intelligence but it is merely the urge you have to put everything in form of a story, in a context... combining things, drawing results from them. that is why you collect information and classify things and explain nature. when you see several pictures, you make a story of them and invent a relation. when you see a ink-blot you think you see butterflies in them, and other things. you grow with stories, which have a beginning and an end... but is life just another story? if you think you can explain evolution, is that the reason why you exist? and since this is a story, there must really be a reason why? could it not just be? just without a story? just 'is'?" the flower took a breath, and went on "look at me, i am a flower. i am the means and end of my existence. i seed, blossom and make more seeds. just a wheel in the great clockwork. neglecting the fact that i actually am, and although my life cycle seems to be an end in itself, i live and die. i do not talk to anything on the praire- for there is simply no point. i do not share a mythology of the firstseed with my fellow flowers, because that is nonsense. there is only enough water or not, then there is enough sun or not. i myself, couldn't care less if i seed or not- for that happens to me, it is not my doing. just as i myself am my doing and undoing. i am purpose. or even better, i am. unlike you, who claim the first thing there was the word, then the rest was created. it makes sense for you, for you are the stories you make and live. you are not, but merely stories- that is only if you make it, otherwise you are just nothing at all. just dusty stories from the past, in foreign languages of which nobody knows anything of any longer." "what was before the word then, you tell me?" asked the man. "you only are, and nothing else. what is the essence of that?"
"can you not guess- it is purpose. seeking to attach. and as soon as it does, it is light, or it is material. organizes itself and makes life even. and word become invented. just a temporary by-product. your doing and undoing at the same time. essence of things, for you. you shall always see the stories and never the thigs themselves, only through stories you are." the flower paused for a while to say: "live long and prosper my good man. do that, and leave me alone." and stopped talking.
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