"The Giver" a parable

The Giver

 

Once there was a busy man who worked most of the day at his job, only to come home to a wife who was cold and busy, a teenage son who was astute, but gave the father and the rest of the family only contempt and disdain, a younger son who was failing his classes and using drugs, and a toddler daughter, whom everybody loved. The wife had contacted The Church of Allism to send a Giver, and despite the Father's disapproval, the Giver showed up on time.

"I suppose you want us to worship Ama and give up our own religion?" scoffed the Father.

"Not at all. I am your guest."

"What have you brought us, then, giver?"

"As all of our sect, I have brought nothing at all."

The Giver ate meals with the family, helping with the preparation and with cleaning the dishes. He spoke little, interrupted even less, and after a few days, the family relaxed and started to act like themselves.

When they had fights or disputes, he never interposed himself. When asked his opinion, he said he had no opinion to give on the matter.

While the kids were at school and the parents at work, the Giver earned his keep by cleaning the house. He started by ordering the immediate area, simply putting tools and utensils in logical order, a difference the family immediately approved of and thanked him for.

Over the course of the week, he also cleaned the attic. He made no comment on what he found there, but the middle son who struggled with drugs discovered a few things that had been stuffed in the attic: love letters grandpa had written to grandma, and grandpa's old guitar, dusted, shined, strung, and tuned. Curious, the boy read the letters and was surprised that grandpa had struggled with drugs too, but that his love for grandma and love for music had helped him overcome his demons.

As the family religion was Christianity -- though it had been a long time since any of them had seen the inside of a church -- the Giver read their scripture to find words that would resonate with them. Having found some verses about the stronger brethren helping the weaker, he marked them with a colored pencil in grandma's old bible, and left it for the older son to find.

The Giver was a little embarrassed when the wife confided in him that she kept a set of letters from a previous lover, long before she married her husband. She explained that the letters to him were equally as passionate and poetical as his were to hers. She said she was considering contacting her former lover. She also explained that nothing she wrote ever mattered to her husband, since, despite his intelligence, and despite that he was a hard worker and provided for the family, he was not romantic and did not care for poetry or for passion. The giver simply asked, "Were you to write a letter to your husband, what words to you think could reach him?"

As for the husband, the Giver did not give him anything at all, except for he would share a beer with the man after the family had gone to bed, and they would talk as men talk -- and the husband admitted to himself that he had never been able to relax and forget about his responsibilities as he did with the Giver.

Finally, the Giver would babysit the toddler, while everybody was at work or at school, and this was his favorite time, for the girl was a gem of a human being, and truly was the attendant angel of the family. Again, the Giver did not give much to the daughter, just a necklace, which she afterwards would never take off, even to bathe, and also the inspiration to draw pictures for her family members, for her aunts and uncles and grandparents, which the Giver sent out in stamped envelopes.

It went on like this for a few weeks, and nothing profound happened, no mass conversion to a new religion, no miracle, nothing stark or bizarre. But the giver had planted a seed and taught the family how to tend it. They didn't know how or when he had taught this lesson, or what the seed was or meant, but one day it sprouted. That was the day the Giver left.

The family hardly knew to thank him. He just seemed like a nice guest who would be welcome back any time.

But after a few months, the older son had offered to help the younger with his homework. The younger had given up drugs in exchange for music. The older son would also stay up a little later and share a beer with his dad. The mother had begun writing poems for the husband, and the husband, to her surprise, appreciated them. Over all, and for the first time, the family didn't just say they were happy, but they really were, and they didn't know why. Only the daughter, as young as she was, knew the cause of the change, and vowed in her heart to one day be a Giver herself.

 

 

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-- perfectidius.com --

 

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more amasongs

The stumbling block becomes the stepping stone.

*

Hands full in, hands full out.

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"For heaven's sake, cut off the hand that offends," he says, when that very hand makes heaven. My hands offend by making a greater heaven.

*

Insofar as I am I, then I will fully live my life.

*

Nothing bad can happen to a good woman.

*

If it's true for anybody, its true for everybody. That is a self unfolding riddle.

*

What needs saving isn't worth saving.

*

A psychotic man was hidden away in an asylum. He ranted and raved and was violent. His disciples were a group of psychiatrists and hospital wards. They didn't know he was the center of it all. This man the central nerve ruled the world, with a gesture, with a twitch, with a raving or a stupor.

*

Reed lives inside a dream. He is unaware of his situation. A few conspiracies break through, inconsistencies in his world. He shrugs off his noticing of them as "mad thoughts," "coincidences," or "evidence that he needs to work less and get more sleep." He thinks he knows how old he is and he thinks he knows who his friends are. You will be there for as long as it takes for you to dare that one thing you are afraid of—to your very core afraid of.

*

Winston Smith lived in a perfect system, but could not cope with big brother. Thus he required his hell in the ministry of love. The thought police, as his guardian angels, merely answered his unconscious summoning.

*

I am nude but never naked.

*

Charisma is the only miracle.

*

Immerse yourself in Ama, stitch the divinity in every mundane part of your day, make your very sweeping of the floor and washing of the dishes a sacred ritual – love Ama with all your day.

*

How shines my divinity? In my infinite patience with my fellow human beings. There is scarcely one who begins to understand my true meanings.

*

A void serves as womb for a god.

*

Consecrate all your works to Ama.

*

Every act is bipolar, every act multivalent: our words and deeds are thick with meaning.

*

The allist is Eru with winged boots traversing the layers of existence.

*

We are perfect in our imperfections.

*

Eternity is the amplitude of time.

*

Miracles convert fools. The truth requires no secondary testimony.

*

The worm of infinite persistence will bury the very gods.

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No matter how ugly her child, a mother will accept no other in exchange. So it is with our experience of the divine: the child we make with the divine is more precious than every scripture, saint, and god.

*

He who knows what is right but does what is wrong is worse than he who does what is wrong thinking it right.

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Matter is made out of rhythm, spirit is made out of meaning; the universal all combines the two into the Poem of Being.

*

The child who gives a picture drawn from the heart gives more than even the richest philanthropist could afford.

*

How is it you who have died so many times yet fear death?

*

The greatest man ever to exist never did a miracle.

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A dull brass key opens the golden treasture.

*

We are all scarified for our tribe: each American has the scars of the entire history. Yet in Europe, such scarification goes deep into the soul and is labyrinthine. Childhood is trauma: we will gain the lesson through one bad turn or another.

*

Good luck is another name for intelligence.

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Instead of contradicting your enemy, learn what you can.

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The inner life is like the calmness of the reef under the violence of the storm.

*

What greater gift can our elders bequeath than Method? A simple method is the greatest technology.

*

Money is cheap.

*

Wherever history nooked you, you would shine, but own your time and draw from the energies at your feet.

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Saviors selling you your own sell tell you the end is near, buddhas whisking you away fire you down with arrows and bid you ask no questions.

*

How do I characterize these religious seekers? Their very hair is purest gold, yet they beg the preachers for alms of brass.

*

He is great who brings out the best in others.

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"I am happy because it is night and silent and I am alone with my thoughts," said one.

"I am sad because it is night and silent and I am alone with my thoughts," said another.

What is the ultimate difference here?

*

"God has spoken to me, listen to my words!" says the prophet.

"God has spoken to me, listen for yourself!" says the sage.

Sages do more for mankind than prophets.

 

 

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-- perfectidius.com --

 

88

 

Latest Amasongs

Insistence becomes truth.

*

Why must you be so subtle when you love, when I prefer to shout?

*

Marriage is a discipline.

*

Ever man gets the death he deserves. Were it not so, posterity will balance injustice with lore.

*

All hail he of many moods, she of surpassing passions, who feeds them blood and lusts and raw flesh, and then controls them, the meager ego in the middle of terrors, as a wizard with soft words commands massive demons and the very gods.

*

Insistence maketh truth.

*

Let your death symbolize your life.

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All praise is condenscending. My true friends glow when I speak.

*

Shephard your focus ever back to the task at hand.

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We set deep contradictions in our heart as a dynamo of boundless energy.

*

Competence laughs.

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The eternal mingles with the mortal, the deathless with the every day.

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Worship a thing and you invest it with divinity.

*

Weaknesses and secrets are true coin by which love barters.

*

Mother is the world of the unborn. Mattria is our world.

*

Man is theomorphic; the best of every species is the image of God.

*

Nature is an artist.

*

"Every vocation is an altar."

*

My pen is a wand, my pen is an antennae.

*

Love does not mock.

*

"If you love me, you will obey," says pretention. "I respect you when you obey yourself" says Ama.

*

Literature is scripture.

*

The American continents are the physical body of Ama.

*

Be Comrades.

*

America is a Religion.

*

"Nothing less than the mightiest original non-subordinated SOUL has ever really, gloriously led, or ever can lead."

*

Speak words all-surrounding and kosmical.

*

Every man and woman is a new Law unto the Universe.

*

Writing is the substance of life.

*

Learn from the child, teach the genius.

*

Why does the divine ever depart? So your inner divine can grow in and of itself, unencumbered and unshadowed by too great a sun. Thus, I too abandon my friends for a season.

*

The father and mother are young again through their children.

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Our child comes from God and still has the divine upon her face.

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Listen with open ears the voice of the child ... and know the innocence of her eyes as a mode of omniscience.

*

Only a parent is a complete person – there are no bachelor gods.

*

That one perfect other you may meet in this life or may not is truly being of your own being: your centerself, your heartsame. She is everything.

*

Every crass material act can be spiritualized. Metaphor is transcendence.

*

Ambiguity is freedom. Interpretation is power. Reading is life.

*

Precedence is confidence.

*

Literature is music, allusion, image, and integration; music in its poetry, allusion to other writings and arts, symbol as parable and analogy of seen image, and integration to the writer's life and experience, drawing out of it and feeding back into it. Great writing is a living blood.

*

Your inner circle of friends is a pantheon, and they sit in a circle of thrones in your heart. Each represents whole classes of men and women.

*

Sapience is in the sip.

*

What interests us belongs to us. Nothing comes into my possession excep through occult affinity.

*

Absolve you to your niche, the place, the clime, be one with where you're at, and open your heart to it all, for you become an inlet of unspeakable powers, invincibly anchored to the earth, and outlet to a magic melody impossible elsewhere.

*

Our "sin" is where we get the energy to do our "good."

*

I pled and begged and fell on my knees. You finally grant me the thing. Now that I have it, I second guess my desire. We want it till we have it.

*

Greatness is a ratio of potential to actual.

*

Every relationship has its giver and its taker: one who exudes emotion and one who absorbs them. Both sides do so in love.

*

The wise man regards all other people as children: to be given unconditional positive regard, infinite patience, and perpetual encouragement, without any sense of being patronizing or condenscending: he sees people in terms of their potential.

*

Pity the braggart. The happiest people guard their joy jealosly and never speak of it directly.

*

If ever you hate a man and would overcome it, discover ways to be grateful to him.

*

How can I doubt when my lips and fingers are Ama kissed?

*

Every curse is also a blessing.

*

Conquer your particular situation and you make a universal contribution to the world.

*

Look into my mirror! I will refine your rough ore until a diamond is borne. Not 50, not 70 facets do I give you, but infinite.

*

The hobby is a catalyst by which we process our day.

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The heart is round: regret none of your feelings, even your regret.

*

What is religion but making peace with reality?

*

Each person is center of their universe, the center of everything and God over all. Once he finds his center he ceases to strive and radiates love like a great gravity, glorious sun, and singular beauty. His centermost is sacred, and none can touch it. In all the universe, only one other person shares his center. That one his is Same and his Other.

*

Until you have hated me, you are unworthy of me.

*

Courage laughs.

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Self doubt is the only hell.

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If it's popular it must be wrong.

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The spiritual must walk tandem with the material or they both fall down.

*

He is wisest who knows how to make every man his teacher. The wise man learns as readily from a fool, madman, or child, as from a professor or pastor: he is impartial, he hears Ama behind them all.

*

When we speak, we mean much more than we intend.

*

The old friend is worth fighting for.

*

Junes do not love lightly.

*

Everybody makes time for what's important to them. Never believe the words, "If only I had the time…"

*

Sex is sacred.

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Self-loving is a time to commune. Who we fantasize about we spiritually commune with.

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The cheerful worker is twice rewarded.

*

All books are written by God. The Holy Spirit mixes her being with every Muse, and every Muse mixes her being with your own.

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Meditation is a mastery of focus. Prayer is a mastery of desire. Art, production and appreciation, is a mastery of both.

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Be deliberate.

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Religion is adoration.

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Prejudice closes the eyes, appreciation opens them.

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Metaphors make symbols, the tools of thought. A symbol is thick with metaphors. Ideas live and think; ideas are gods.

*

Love is inevitable, love is spun with the cords of fate.

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There is nothing more foolish than piety.

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Why do we at times forsake our friends? We need time to process. We need distance. We need space. He who has never hated me is unworthy of me.

*

Magic adheres to substance: two pieces of gold are not the same. How a piece of gold is earned

determines its value as a substance.

*

You who have never met me know me the best. These others are blinded by sheer proximity.

Only one sees me aright, and for her eyes the sun and moon would put out their lights.

*

Some treasures can be received only as gifts. Were they purchased, stolen, found, created, they

would lake the potency and perfection they do as gifts.

*

Give your all to Love. She will more than repay you.

*

Writing is sex.

*

I will show compassion to anything – except a parasite. The parasite earns my stern love, and

death.

 *

The cultist is creative in his worship: he makes us curious.

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Sinning energizes our goodness. Hell impregnates heaven.

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The gods enter us, even through our doubts.

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True greatness comes late upon a man's name.

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Sanity gets away with madness all the time.

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Those difficult to impress are my favorites.

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Her heart a knot that only patient hands of gentleness could tease apart.

*

I'm not just good, I'm the best. Only nobody knows it. Nobody, excepting you, Rozhiar.

 

 

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-- perfectidius.com --

 

88

 

"Snow Sun" a song

Another fun little love song

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJ-rp40O_2k&feature=youtube_gdata

 

-ıl|¦║¦|lı-ıl|¦║¦|lı-Perfection is Easy-ıl|¦║¦|lı-ıl|¦║¦|lı-

 

-- perfectidius.com --

 

88

 

"Varlus"

Going through my old songs and remixing them.

 

Varlus:

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5MMxk4A-9iE&feature=youtube_gdata

 

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-- perfectidius.com --

 

88

 

Mattriama Hymn

My brother Joshua completed his Christmas gift by giving me some recording equipment to go with my ipad: check out the song I just produced with it, a new version of my hymn to Mattriama. I think I might record some fresh music soon!

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MrO27hv29Qo&feature=youtube_gdata

 

-ıl|¦║¦|lı-ıl|¦║¦|lı-Perfection is Easy-ıl|¦║¦|lı-ıl|¦║¦|lı-

 

-- perfectidius.com --

 

88

 

The Therontales Complete

I have finished the fantasy adventure stories I've been writing for a few months for my son, the Therontales. They are available as a pdf on my homepage.

 

 

http://www.perfectidius.com/Therontales.pdf

 

Take Care, Caretakers!

 

Daniel Christopher June

 

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-- perfectidius.com --

 

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