Chapter 28: Boat

Yesterday, while taking the Frogs on a walk, we came across some very strange structures, which made the impression that the Gods had dropped their bird-nests upon the plain.

The Gods had dropped their bird-nests upon the plain.

The Frogs and I approached, postulating on what the purpose of such structures was.  Peaseblossom asserted that surely they were houses, built by tall and skinny creatures who had an inclining for branch-rooters or root-branchers (these are known to us as trees - the Frogs insist on including both the root system and foliage system in the name and often say it one way as much as the other, "root-branchers" or "branch-rooters," making for quite a bramble of words.)  

Mustardseed said that these houses could also be used by some amphibians in deeper waters as respite from the Depths.

I asked Mustardseed if this was perhaps a boat instead of a house.  Mustardseed said that, no, it was a house, as boat implies something that is unnatural - i.e. a vessel for taking one out of his element.  This object would keep the creature within his element by permitting some Wet into the area, yet staying afloat in a consistent shape.

Mustardseed said that it was a house because the word boat implies something unnatural.

I then argued that water that is too deep for a Frog is surely out of his element as well, again making the object a boat.

Immediately after I finished, all of the Frogs voiced, vehemently and nearly in unison, that it was not a boat because if one is in or near any type or amount of water, he is closer to his element.  I was skeptical to this.  However, I do indeed love the water - do not we all?

All of the Frogs voiced that it was not a boat.

And so I dropped it and started again to think things that could perhaps be useful, rather than arguing with the Frogs - I had neither the patience nor the folly to keep it up.

Since, on these long walks, the Frogs frequently urge me to return early because they quickly dry out, I have of late been thinking of a solution.  And I think that I have found it in these heavenly nests - I shall make one, a small one, with a hole on one end.  I shall wet it thoroughly before putting the Frogs into it and taking them with me out of doors.  A house, I will call it?

Chapter 27: Leap Frog

This evening, while drinking the concentrated juice of apples and looking out the window at the darkened city, lonely of light save a lamp here and there, I approached the Frog dwelling and asked my friends what they would like to do tonight, perhaps something lively, as it is just past the summer solstice, and I needed reassurance in the face of non-Time going by so quickly.  

The Frogs were playing a game of Leap Frog.  It may be strange to hear that the amphibious friends play this game, (as it would seem too typical or far-fetched for them to actually play) but in reality, in the reality shared by you and me, they do (if indeed we do share it, instead of hoard, ration, or keep it.)  Many Men do not believe that Frogs play the game, but this is because - as Peaseblossom says - Men have a knack for believing (or convincing themselves of) the un-real and yet not believing the truth in front of them, an iniquity which is in all likelihood caused by their similarity to those prissy pruners: the Curs`ed Birds, who are adept at maintaining their vanity, flying, (which is for the birds, a phrase coined by Mustardseed) and who, of course, are perilously infamous for their appetite for certain amphibious creatures which shall not be named because those wonderful amphibious Friends do not like to hear of that particular tendency.  Such Curs`ed Bird creatures are, unfortunately, imitated by Men.

Peaseblossom said that this is because Men have a knack for believing (or convincing themselves of) the un-real and yet not believing the truth in front of them.

Bird

And so I watched the Frogs play their game, an exact copy of what you and I might call Leap Frog, except perhaps a more appropriate title for their game would be Rapid Leap Frog, as the Frogs are most adept and agile in their game, which is surely the ancient purified form of our version of Leap Frog, for our bodies are so unwieldy and ponderous for such feats, feats for which the Frogs are agile and yet strong, built for such olympics.  In the (original) Frog game, the Frogs leap over each other in rapid succession, hopping over one another with the consistency of cogs within a machine - so fast as to convey an image more related to the falling and churning of water than the jumping of creatures.  Around and about they roll, in a brown-and-green hoop-blur, making myriad tiny splotching noises upon the wood floor.  

So delighted was I that I pulled out my ancient flute, dust-laden and neglected, and began piping the liveliest ramble of notes that I could manage, all the while capering and smiling at my Friends, under the glow of two meek lamps, in my small Dwelling.

Chapter 26: Carving

Recently, at the Lily Pad, the Frogs and I have been discussing hobbies.  I have decided that Writing is a most fruitful past-time, yet as Writing requires much of the brain and senses, it cannot be maintained (for me, at any rate, said Mustardseed) for a consistent period of time.  In other words, I frequently find myself wanting to create, yet unable to channel a narrative.

So the Frogs and I have been discussing new hobbies.

Mustardseed, leaning over the water-bowl, was the first to recommend the idea of Carving, citing that it involved creation but perhaps not the same intensity of thought, being fairly monotonous, woody, and useful.  He then winked in my direction.

Mustardseed said that it was fairly monotonous, woody, and useful.

Slightly confused, but faithful in my Friend, I decided to pursue the hobby.  And so, like a fabled treasure hunter or fortune-finder, I set out to find the Tools.

The list of items to collect was as follows:

4 Carving Knives

1 Saw

2 Rasps

2 Sharpening Stones

1 Sharpening Strop

1 Guide Book

The sharpening stones and strop I obtained from a great herd of Whales, who had found them among the wreckage of ancient ships, namely, Achilles' arsenal ship, Myrmaid.

The guide book I found in the cracks of a glacier, taken there by Hygelac, an old and experienced woodcarver who had met a frozen end among the Floes.   

The rasps and saw I found tucked away by some creature (who called himself Tom,) deep inside the knot of some ancient and whistling tree.

The knives I found, wrapped in cloths, in an ancient ruin of Scotland.  They were somewhat phantasmal at first, with a red hue, but sure enough they came around to the world of the not-mind, and I was able to clutch them.

The locations of these were somewhat hard to find and the journey somewhat long.  But, sure enough, given motivation and effort, I found the task to be as doable as any other, if only one were to try.  And so I set to work Carving.  I have catalogued my progress in a similar Journal, available at a certain confusing but reliable (as many Frogs are) location:

http://thesharpeningstone.blogspot.com/

Chapter 25: Social Contract

Today, upon arriving home from a long and wonderful trip to a certain Lake, I greeted the Frogs.  Mustardseed, with a Bird in his throat, (he had not spoken since he last saw me two days earlier) greeted me and, after clearing, asked how my trip was, and if I had felt Froggy around that great and wondrous Wet, if I had come to any conclusions, or if I had met any certain Amphibious Friends.

I answered him, saying that I was partly weighted, partly uplifted, confused and conflated.  

I said that my trip certainly made me more Frog-like, as the lake always clears my plate, tips my table, shuffles my deck, etc., and has a generally mind-cleansing effect.  

But I also said that there were many other distresses, rearing their bald and ugly heads, urging me to fall in line with the world of Men.  I was to, as is laid out in the social contract, Get A Job, Make Something of Myself, and generally, Perform.  And all this, I said, was fine, as I also agreed that I must indeed do things, and succeed, and...

At that moment, Mustardseed interrupted me, putting his Frog-foot upon the Impossible Barrier, and finished my sentence, saying that of course I would like to succeed and make many Life-Leaps, but that I do not quite enjoy the grating and obnoxious pressure of Enforcement From Without, as I was surely a person who, like a pond-plant, would rather simply have the ingredients of Wet, sunlight, and Time (if Men insist on believing in such a thing,) and would, sure as any Frog or pond-plant, Grow.

Mustardseed said that, sure as any Frog or pond-plant, I would Grow

Sitting across from the Dwelling, looking into his Frog-eye, I could hear the beginnings of a storm rolling in: a great electrical beast, casting down its bolts and winds upon the area, huffing and puffing, full of impetuosity and abominable will, whistling its winds through my windows as if to challenge me, daring me to break my agreement.

Snapping me out of my day-dream, Peaseblossom, who was accompanying Mustardseed by the Barrier, waved at me, hopped over to the cup, went inside, and sat a certain way.

Peaseblossom sat a certain way

With spunk in his voice, Peaseblossom said that I must Do This, and tell that stormy man to Take his social contract to the Birds, for that is surely who it is for, as it is most certainly not written for any Frog to follow, and thus not any Man who is of a Froggy mind.  

I looked at Mustardseed, who was watching his Froggy Friend.  In his eye I once again saw the world, bent to fit its shape.  His eyes, his soul's gravity-laden gates, were constantly bending the world to fit its shape, however rigid or stormy it might be.

Perhaps - some strange and alien genius if so - this is what Mustardseed intended me to see in his silent and penitent eyes.

Chapter 25: Frog Day

After learning that today is the International Save the Frogs day, I went over to the Frog Dwelling, brimming with excitement (for today was certainly a day which saving the Frogs would have been wondrous) and anticipating quite a happy conversation, I instead gasped upon reaching the Frog Dwelling.  

For there was Mote, the meekest of the Frogs, sitting on the rocks, looking quite pained and out of sorts.  I immediately reached in to cradle her in my hands (the Frogs frequently enjoy the warmth of a hand.)  She refused my offer, saying that any sudden movement would pain her extremely.  Mortified with worry and concern, I immediately asked her what was wrong, and began looking for the other Frogs, who would perhaps know what was wrong with the most athletic, most personable Frog that surely ever hopped among the lily pads.

Mote looked quite pained and out of sorts

I heard Mote's voice as a murmur, a far-away shadow, so distressed I was to hear of her pain, and so intent on finding a cure or hint from the other Frogs, who surely had some piece of Frog-lore that could remedy Mote's sickness.

But my problems compounded, for I found both Peaseblossom and Mustardseed in much the same state - huddled with their Frog-feet around their stomachs, bent over with pain.

So close I came to hysterics, at the possibility of losing of the Compasses of my Soul (incarnated in the minds of my Frog friends) that I nearly fainted.

After righting myself and reigning in my consciousness - strange how one can never will one's consciousness anywhere except home - I tried to catch up to what Mote was saying, forgetting that she was in fact speaking to me during my hysterics.  

Mote said that I should stop worrying, but that I should in fact worry very deeply, to the core of my soul.  Stop worrying because she and Mustardseed and Peaseblossom were in fact very fine, in good health, and thriving, but that I should worry very deeply because at this moment, at precisely 11:17 on April 28th, known by Men as International Save the Frogs day, all Frogs "collect their Froggity into one: combining all their emotions, their thoughts, their musings, and their conditions into one great Communal Consciousness-Pond, so that all may feel the general condition of Frogs as a group, and thus act accordingly to respond to any needed tasks."

I gaped at this - upon discovering a Communal Consciousness among the Frogs, wondering at the greatness of it, the advantages of such a ritual, the well-being that this must surely create among Frogs and all things associated.

And then my heart sank, for I then saw the real ramifications: my Froggy friends were writhing not because of their own pain, but because the overwhelming pain of other Frogs, suffering from terrible toxins, pernicious ailments, and general Frog habitat destruction and contamination due to the wanton actions of my own race.  Doubled over with bellies full of mercury-food, pained and confused due to the strange temperatures and drought, and terribly disheartened because of the Frogs' neglected state, their forgotten talents, their wasted love for the world and for Men.

It would be over in thirty minutes, said Mote.  I held the Frogs in my hands, sniffling to myself, looking the other way, keeping back the flood, for I cared so much for my Friends, realizing how important they had become to me and the stability of my existence - true bastions, they were, friends of exquisite character, spunk, and empathy.  And I wished that my Man friends and I could share in their pain - and thus feel what we have wrought, for if we could experience what my Frog friends have gone through this night, we surely would have changed our un-Frog-like ways long, long ago.

Chapter 24: Gold

This afternoon, after finishing the old epic Beowulf (I have been reading it aloud to my Frogs,) and setting the book down with that too-satisfying feeling of having completed a book, Mote made it known that she was not quite comfortable with the description of Grendel's mother.  

Mote was not quite comfortable with the description of Grendel's Mother

Mote said that Grendel's mother had too many characteristics of Frogs, as she was Insatiable, an excellent hopper and swimmer, and could easily remain on land or in Wet, whichever she chose.  Mote said that this close similarity was perhaps offensive, as Grendel's mother was seen as a Spawn of All that is Horrid, and is generally portrayed to be Not a Good Thing.

Peaseblossom said that perhaps Beowulf, too, was Froggity because of his abilities with many of the same things (he had to swim for three days to get to the monster's lair,) and also because of his supreme valor.

I asked the Frogs what they thought about all of the gold in the epic - the bestowing of golden diadems and rings, of shimmering corselets and beautiful bodices.  I said that the gold seemed to have an ever-present role and that it was a bit like the currency which moves the characters and plot along, making an appearance in each scene and finally providing a backdrop for the finale of the book, when Beowulf fights the dragon near the beast's hoard.  

Mote and Peaseblossom looked between each other, confused.  

Mote and Peaseblossom looked between each other, confused

Mustardseed intuited their confusion, and explained to them that currency and gold were highly prized by Men for their beauty and the power which they could bestow.  After Mote asked how this love for a certain metal could have started, Mustardseed replied, saying that once, fifteen-thousand years ago, a man found a piece of the metal, noted its peculiar coloring that reminded him of the tone of his long-deceased mother's skin, and promptly began acting like the metal was very Precious, guarding it and hoarding it, much like the dragon, and eventually convinced, through his misplaced reverence for it (it was so much like his loving mother's comforting skin,) eventually convinced through jealousy many of his friends to covet the item: the man eventually sold the item to his friend in exchange for his friend's wife, and currency through gold was born, the first transaction being for the affections of one Sour and Unfortunate Lass.

This long and unlikely story (do you not think?) over, I asked the Frogs if they had any cur-

And I dropped the question, as Mote and Peaseblossom were so interested in the Ramifications of Mustardseed's story, and now a list of things made of gold (spoons, guns, rings, boxes for rings, toilets...) that the attention was quite diverted from me, perhaps because of their lack of interest, perhaps because at that moment I started to complain about numerous friends who had borrowed from me and not Paid Back, which, due to currency, had dampened our Lovely and Flowery Friendship, for which I would pay any amount, if only the relationship could return to its previous state.

Chapter 23: Story

This afternoon, after rearranging the contents of the Frog Dwelling and gingerly placing the Frogs back into it, I stood back and surveyed my work - a new type of Dwelling, modeled after a place-setting, complete with a bowl, cup, and two spoons.

Mustardseed told me that he appreciated the new Dwelling arrangement - that it was important in both form and function.

I asked the Frog to elaborate.

Mustardseed said that the Dwelling contains enough Wet, like the last arrangement, but it also now seems to have a certain goal in mind, a certain way of being that carries the mind along a path, which is certainly a Good Thing, for that way of carrying is perhaps the most effective.

Mustardseed said that it seemed to have a certain goal in mind.

I said to the Frog that this is surely true.  I told him that I indeed meant to carry the viewer on the path of a story with the new setting, thus enhancing the presentation of both the Dwelling and the atmosphere for the Frogs within it.

Mustardseed said that he liked the story, its ambiguity and ramifications, and was looking forward to musing on it, while basking in Wet and enjoying the warmth of this newly-discovered and most pleasant season (the Frogs are too young yet to have seen Spring.)

Peaseblossom asked what the story was About, that he was unsure of what to make of it, and that he would like an explanation, if we Pleased.

Mote said, with vigor, that the story was about the pleasant, continual feeding of three Frogs, and surely the spoon and bowl were symbols of this.

I asked Mote what the cup perhaps symbolized, in this scenario.

The Frog stopped and sorted this information.  She said that it surely does not mean drinking, as Frogs in fact never drink with their mouths, but only with their wonderfully thin and armorless skin.  She said that perhaps it was a symbol for the containing of that which sustains us, whether it be Wet, or Morsels, or perhaps even Frogs.

I thought on the function of a Dwelling in containing these sustenance-giving Frogs, how pleasant it was to have them and yet how unpleasant to keep them Hemmed-In, and all the while knowing that this latest Dwelling arrangement was to perhaps atone for my secret and iniquitous Sin of Frog-trapping, by at least providing them with a pleasant and stimulating story in which to live.

As I thought this I noticed Mote trying to get my attention.  She was watching my furrowed and concerned brow, a very knowing and Froggity look on her face, with an elegant and assertive posture.  She said with a degree of urgency that we should play a game, and, which game would I prefer the most, as I surely get to choose, for I was the Man of the Hour and had built the Frogs a new story.

She was watching my furrowed and concerned brow.