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Message Subject The world will become peaceful, beautiful and abundant IF ....
Poster Handle Colour Crusader
Post Content
The world will become peaceful, beautiful and abundant
IF WE GROW UP TO BE INDEPENDENT



Three very small yellow ducklings were struggling to swim. Usually, when they became disconcerted or lacking in strength, they would hop onto their mother’s back for a rest, but this time, the mother duck was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, they felt something move just below them, in the water, and the ducklings were carried along and able to rest, no longer needing to swim. The surface they stood on was not warm and fluffy, like their mother, but it was supportive nevertheless, and so the ducklings travelled effortlessly down the river on the back of an unknown and unseen entity.

As they did so, people began to gather on the shores of the river, watching the ducklings miraculously standing on the water, or so it seemed. They cheered and waved but stayed on the sidelines, not daring to take the plunge and try this themselves, and the ducklings basked in their admiration and applause. In the beginning, the ducklings were amazed at this attention, but as they grew into ducks, they came to consider this as normal, expecting crowded banks and enthusiastic cries whenever they made a public appearance.

As the river expanded in width and the banks retreated, the ducks automatically quashed any feelings of unease, propped up by their convictions of self-importance. When they realised that they were approaching the open sea and rougher waves, they became afraid, but swim they could not because they had missed their chance to learn, preferring to stay on the ever-supportive back of the entity carrying them. As always, they relied on their unknown supporter, even more so as they could no longer communicate with their fans on the shore.

It was then, as the waves tossed and turned them, that they saw patches of skin revealed under their feet, and they realised that all this time, they had been in dire danger, riding on the back of a crocodile. And almost at the same moment, they realised that not only one crocodile was making for the open seas, but thousands of crocodiles emerging from the mouths of many rivers, each one carrying ducks on their backs.

The crocodiles all converged, drawn as if by magnetism, to a whirlpool of incomparable depth and strength. No-one could withstand this pull. The crocodiles and their passengers dived down into this hole which turned into a black watery tunnel, and at the end of the tunnel was an intense light. On reaching this, the crocodiles disintegrated.

Some of the ducks disintegrated too, yet those who were more kindhearted were born again inside an egg. The light inside the egg was rosy, indicative of the bright light outside, promising joy, renewal and rebirth, providing that the duck inside could respond to the hope that its experience outside the egg would be beneficial and enrichening. If so, the duck would peck its way out.

Those celestial beings who had allowed the ducks to reincarnate sat and watched. They asked themselves whether they would stay in their cosy shell, comforted by the pink light, or whether they would cast the shell aside to step into a new dimension, into more light and clarity, to view limitless horizons.
Would the little ducklings now notice if they left the banks of their sanity? Would they realise if a crocodile took away their independence? Would they recognize any secret supporters? Would the onlookers on the banks who - realizing that the ducklings are sailing on a crocodile’s back - plunge in to save the ducklings? Or would the onlookers be deceived and simply applaud unseen horrors?

The celestial advisors sighed because although they loved the little ducklings, they knew that they were not allowed to interfere. The ducklings would have to make their own choices and bear the consequences.
 
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