Parable of the Garden

Once upon a time there was a beautiful garden that had grown naturally and as a result blossomed early in spring with tulips, and throughout the summer, with hydrangeas, and roses, daisies and sunflowers, daffodils and periwinkles. They all enjoyed the sun and the warm summer rain, and the cool evenings when they could close their petals and rest beneath a flickering blanket stars.

One day someone came and put a huge wire fence around this beautiful garden. The flowers in the garden could no longer spread their roots and leaves and flowers as they had always done. Roots became entangled and every flower struggled to reach higher so that it could get a little more sun and the first drops of rain.

Some remembered the wonderful times before the fence, the freedom, the playful competition to see who was most beautiful and whose blossom smelt sweetest and would would last longer and all the fun they had dancing in the wind.. And the times when they released their new seeds into the earth to bloom in the seasons to come.

Most however forgot the past . They squabbled and argued about who would get the most rain and the most sun, and who would have the most room to grow and spread their roots and blossoms and new seeds.

So , in all the commotion, and sadness and heartache that ensued it was decided that a leader needed to be elected, to be in charge of the fenced in garden. Someone who would allocated the sunlight and water and instruct the bumblebees as to which blossoms to visit first. So a petition was put out to all the flowers.

.

But when the flowers of the garden read the petition they realized they would have to give up on just being beautiful and just smelling sweet, and blossoming in the morning, and blowing in the wind and releasing their seeds for the new season.. So, one by one, the daisies, the sunflowers, the daffodils, the periwinkles invented excuses as to why they could not heed this high calling to support their precious home..

As a result what was once a beautiful garden fell into chaos. Long vines grew up over the fence and ensnared the flowers. Insects invaded the garden and ate the leaves of the flowers and  laid larva in the dark earth.Chick weed and crabgrass , thistle and pokeweed and black medic invited themselves in to the garden  perfectly happy to sponge the moisture from the flowers, kill the seeds , and strangle the young tubers of the beatuful garden until the flowers no longer danced in the wind, no longer joked with one another, and started to take revenge against each other.

The flowers at long last realized they must hold a town meeting.  Someone had to take charge. Someone had to control the madness , the theft, the desecration of the garden. All the flowers that where offered the task of leadership regretted not seizing control and now that they where seeing the destruction of their home realized someone had to take charge , but no-one would take charge. No-one was prepared to take on the challenge, except for, save one.

It was the plant that had nothing to loose. It was the plant that had no beauty. It was the plant the was friendless . The plant that never danced in the wind nor laughter with friends, nor played with its children. It was the plant that simply did one thing. The plant that simply calculated how much it could take, who it could take it from and how quickly, and how much pain it could cause so as to spread fear in the garden so that it would never be interfered with in its plan to have full control , and in so doing, make everything ugly and fowl and perverse.

It was the weed. For the weed had nothing to loose, and in its small dark mind, everything to gain. And so the flowers , in their sweet naivety , so intimidated and fearful of total destruction voted the weed to take charge of the garden ,having no understanding of the weeds dark intentions. For the flowers saw all plants as they saw themselves. inherently good and just, loving the sun and the rain and the warm summer breeze. Evil for its' own sake was inconceivable. They did not understand how any other plant could wish excruciating pain on another, and wish to spread fear and as much horror as possible throughout the garden.

The flowers then  looked to  the Weed for comfort and the Weed smiled at them and made promises about how it would bring back the joy and happiness that was once freely  enjoyed in the garden. The flowers believed in the Weed. They forgot how, long ago they didn’t need the Weed, and that how they could grow wild and spread out into lush open fields to their hearts content. They could let their seeds take root in open spaces where there was  plenty of water and sunshine.

But the weed was everywhere. Everywhere the flowers turned, the Weed would be making speeches about the freedom that was to come, while secretly  chocking off life  The weed made the garden believe it was indespensible. And every season it would  in the most fatherly way  tell them  that their suffering  would soon end. But it never did. Suffering became a way of life.