Sunday, October 18, 2009

Chapter 31: Mustardseed

Mustardseed

I have searched high and low, in places wet and dry, and no Mustardseed.

Mote, Peaseblossom, and Cobweb don't seem to know where he has gone, or they do but refrain from telling me. The collective consciousness of the Frogs perhaps has something to do with it. It could be anything - there are still so many things that I do not understand. The Frogs are detailed and complex enough to make one give up on them. Positively, if one is in doubt about Frogs, or even if he thinks he knows something definitely (for "knowing definitely" is the most hazardous way of knowing, Mustardseed would say) he should assume instead that he has no idea, knows nothing of the situation, and should humbly go about his directive, rather than acting as if he is in control, as I have done with my moist friends.

That Frog never could tolerate a cage. Always testing the Impossible Barrier, Frog-feet upon the glass, he would look longingly into the distance.

He could have hopped out, down the hallway, into the light of the outdoors. Or, perhaps like his namesake, he has turned into a fairy and flown away. In either case, present or not, he will surely continue to bestow unique inspiration to us in sublime and covert ways. Perhaps he'll be in the shifting reflection of a pond, or the arc of a mossy branch, bending toward the water, or maybe some rogue pond-wave that gets one all covered in Wet, providing some measure of hilarity or humility, whichever fits that particular moment, or whichever one deserves, as Mustardseed always seemed to know which words a Frog or man needed. Or perhaps we will again see him hopping along in the mud, like I found him on that lovely day, when I was first introduced to not frogs, but Frogs.

Mustardseed

He was such a thoughtful and persistent Frog; sometimes negative, always doubting. But he was soft on the inside; soft as any man or Frog could be. And such wonderful things he taught! We shall all miss him very much. As with any friend departed, what does one say besides "We will miss you"?

It is interesting, the memories that come back when someone has gone. They are not always the memories that one would guess.

I remember, one warm Sunday afternoon, shortly after bringing Mustardseed and Mote into my dwelling (they had just settled in) I found myself with Mustardseed. Mote was asleep under the water, tired from her long day of arranging the Dwelling. Frog-foot upon the glass, looking up at me, his round eye bending the reflection of the world, Mustardseed did a strange thing. To this day, never have I seen that Frog give a compliment. But in that moment Mustardseed, looking around with a smile that he could not hide, said that he believed this new place to be his true home, comfortable and lively, with friends and family, his favorite Mind-Perch; his Lily Pad.

Until he reenters our world, full of words and dictums, he shall be in the periphery of our minds - the place where most friends reside most of the time. I do not doubt we will see him again.

Mustardseed

2 comments:

genghiskuhn said...

i like this.

Julia Icenogle said...
This comment has been removed by the author.