Note to the reader: I know it’s not normal to write a story, as like a book, on a blog site. It’s a bit awkward to land on chapter 3 and need to scroll down to chapter one if you want to get the whole story, but for some odd reason I’m doing it anyway. This story actually starts with an article I wrote on 1/19/19 titled: “Do No Harm”. I highly recommend going to the trouble of scrolling if you want to get the full impact of this very simple story of “Yinney the Sloth who needs to Poo”. This story is quickly growing and there will be much for you to Enjoy.
Chapter Three
Another day was just beginning as Yinney sang his sacred morning song. It was a cheerful little medley that bounced about like a fluttering butterfly. Only a sloth of the sacred ways could sing it properly, but you can try if you like. The words flowed out of his heart with great respect and gratitude, which was how his father had taught it to him. It was one of the few things he remembered of his father.
Rising morning sun, I greet you. Singing morning birds, I thank you. Gentle cooling breeze, I welcome you. Great and mighty tree, I hang from you.
Predators may lurk the jungle below, but our ways are higher in the trees, our ways are touched with cooling breeze, our ways are invisible in the leaves, our ways are blessed with peaceful flow, our ways are blessed with S-O-U-L.
(Repeat as much as the Spirit moves you.)
It is hard to explain how a sloth sang that last word, “SOUL”. Perhaps only a sloth can do it. But it was beautiful, and the word hung in the air for a spell, as if supernaturally empowered. It hung in the air much like Yinney himself hung from his limb as he sang. Perhaps that is part of the magic of the song? If you climb into a tree and hang from a limb like a sloth, looking at the world around you upside down, and sing this “Sloth Sacred Morning Song”, perhaps you will get the proper sound of that last word, too. It’s worth a try, don’t you think?
Suddenly, Yinney’s morning was interrupted by the sound of a brightly colored bird. Her feathers were the bluest blue!
“Oh that was lovely!” the bird said. “It has been so long since I’ve heard that song sang by a sloth of the sacred ways. Hi! My name is Lu-Lu!”
Yinney was not sure what kind of bird Lu-Lu was? She had the rich colors of an Amazon bird, but mostly males wore the bright colors. Lu-Lu was somewhat different in that respect. Her blue was so rich in it’s radiance! But all that aside, he appreciated the compliment and said, “Good morning, my name is Yinney.”
And so the morning of his third day started in this very way, with only four days left to find his sacred tree, his 7th Day Tree. But there was no hurry, for Yinney knew that even this might be the Spirit ordering his steps to finding just the right tree. The Spirit worked in mysterious ways, weaving a path easily disturbed by selfishness, rudeness, failure to recognize and appreciate simple blessings, such as a chance encounter with a bird like Lu-Lu. In some ways Spirit life was like walking on water, not dirt.
“So where is your sacred tree?” Lu-Lu asked. “Is this it?” Obviously she was “knowing” in the ways of his people.
“No. This is not the one. I am on my journey to find my 7th Day Tree. This is day three. I have four days left.”
“Ohhhh,” Lu-Lu said. “Well, I would tell you you better hurry up, but I know that is not your way. Yours is a way of faith, a way of peace, rest, and trust. A way of contentment which is very much in danger these days.”
“Yes,” Yinney agreed and added, “You’re talking about Jag the neighborhood bully, right?”
Lu-Lu was silent for a long moment before answering very carefully, “True… Jag is a great danger around here. I have seen him rip more than one poor peace-loving creature to shreds!”
Yinney winced at the thought as Lu-Lu so bluntly described the event. “Be very careful where and when you poo, Yinney,” she warned.
“But Jag is perhaps not the worst of it,” she continued. “At least he is not a threat to the jungle itself.”
Yinney blinked slowly three times. When a sloth is in deep thought, sometimes they blink a lot. This remark triggered three blinks before asking, “What do you mean, Lu-Lu?”
“Oh, I forgot, you don’t get around much, do you,” then she chuckled.
“Well, my soul travels much,” Yinney corrected, “the search for my sacred tree fills me. It will become my center. My world will revolve around the 7th Day Tree, and I will bless it with my poo. I eat poisonous leaves no one else can, and the nutrients of my simple ways gives a tree strength no other tree will have without a sloth of the old ways choosing it. And the things I need knowledge of, somehow finds its way to me, perhaps through such a messenger as you.”
“Spoken like a true sloth of the old ways!” Lu-Lu blurted out brightly. “I like you Yinney. My wings have taken me many places, and let me enlighten you as to the greatest threat of all! Have you ever heard of ‘Predator Cities’?”
(This story of Yinney began on 1/20/19 and belongs to Don Allen, alias: Grandpa White Feather.)
Path Without End 