{"id":37,"date":"2014-01-30T05:00:00","date_gmt":"2014-01-30T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dbf2fbb3-1e77-4c15-85aa-e3e24a21f190"},"modified":"2014-01-30T05:00:00","modified_gmt":"2014-01-30T05:00:00","slug":"the-golden-bird-and-the-tree-a-fable-of-the-soul-and-the-ego-by-joseph-anthony","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/?p=37","title":{"rendered":"The Golden Bird and the Tree: A Fable of the Soul and the Ego, by Joseph Anthony"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Golden Bird and the Tree<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

A Fable of the Soul and the Ego<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

By<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

Joseph Anthony<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

 <\/font><\/p>\n

Once upon a
\ntime a golden bird wandered the heavens in search for a place to sing.  Seeing a tree that stood alone in the valley
\nof the mountains, she flew in for a closer look.  The tree was young, a mere sapling, and since
\nit was winter, the sapling was sleeping, so it did not notice when the golden bird
\nalighted in its humble branches pleased to find a home.  <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

As it slept,
\nthe little tree dreamt, and in its dream, a golden bird descended and made its
\nhome among its branches.   <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

\u201cWhy would
\nyou choose me?\u201d the tree asked the golden bird.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

\u201cWe chose
\neach other,\u201d said the golden bird, \u201cand together we will make a bridge between
\nheaven and earth.\u201d<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

The tree
\nshimmered gently and continued sleeping, dreaming it was listening to some
\nmysterious and radiant singing.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

In reality, while
\nthe golden bird had been searching for an earthly place to call home, it had
\nintended that home to be temporary\u2014a stop along its journey of singing its song
\nthrough time and space.  However, the
\ngolden bird decided to make its home among the branches of the tree because it
\nhad, in fact, gotten one of its delicate feet stuck in a tight spot among the
\nbranches, and couldn\u2019t move.  But since it
\nliked the tree and felt at home there, it decided it would do what it was born
\nto do: sing.  And it would remain there
\nuntil it was no longer tangled with the tree.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

The golden
\nbird sang a tree-song, a song of tree-energy, tree vibrations, tree leanings,
\nand it enjoyed very much how its voice was informed by the being of the
\ntree.  Sure it had its own song, but its
\nsong had no overtones or harmonies, it was just pure tones issuing from a most
\nexquisitely fragile voice.  Now that it
\nwas stuck in the tree, its singing made vibrations in the branches and these
\nvibrations created echoes, harmonies, and drones of endless variety and timber,
\nand so it kept singing this new and wonderful song, and felt it had discovered
\nsides of itself it never knew before. <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

The golden
\nbird grew to love that little sleeping tree. 
\nIt appreciated the shelter, the experience of form and boundaries.  It loved the way the tree\u2019s being made her
\nown song more resonant and deep.  And it
\ndecided it would do whatever it could to protect that little tree and help it
\ngrow to reach its fullest height.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

Meanwhile
\nthe tree slept.  It slept and dreamt it
\nhad a golden bird living in its branches and that they had fallen madly in love
\nwith one another.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

In the
\nspring, the tree began to awaken, born into a blue sky dappled with clouds the
\nshapes of castles.  As the tree grew more
\nand more awake, it began to enjoy being a tree very much.   It reached and it stretched, it swayed and
\nit leaned.  It grew green leaves and soft
\nblossoms and sent deeper and deeper roots rivering through the surrounding
\nvalley.  <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

Every night,
\nit slept and it dreamt about the singing, and as it grew, it realized it could
\ndo so many more things than when it was a seed or a sapling.  It was delighted to discover it could cast
\nits seeds far into the world and that the world would accept them and nestle
\nthem deep into her womb.  <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

As it grew
\neven larger and its branches stretched even further, it could touch places even
\nfurther away.  It began to want more
\nlight, more space, more sky, and somehow when it dreamt, the song it heard
\nseemed to tell it that all of its wantings were good\u2014holy, wonderful, meant to
\nbe.  So it wanted more and the
\nsurrounding world gave it more, pouring down rain, sun, and soothing winds.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

The tree, in
\nturn, gave oxygen to the world.  It loved
\nmaking this mysterious force, loved how it became one with the wind and felt it
\nbreathe into the sky and how all the creatures around the tree enlivened and
\nquickened with enthusiasm when new oxygen was produced.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

One night, in
\na quiet moment in the light of the moon, the tree was not quite asleep and not
\nquite awake when it heard singing\u2014the same singing it had been hearing in its
\ndreams.  The tree shimmered.  The sound filled its branches with light.  Every branch and budding leaf quivered with
\njoy.  The tree listened and listened all
\nthrough the night.  It stood there awake,
\nswaying to the song.  And as the dawn
\nkissed the night sky and made it blush with the deep presence of its
\nhoney-scented kiss, the tree suddenly realized a golden bird really did live in
\nits branches, and a shimmering thrill quivered through it from the tips of its
\nbranches down to its gnarled roots.  <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

The golden
\nbird sang its song of light and as it sang the tree decided its primary reason
\nfor living was to protect that golden bird. 
\nLittle did it know that the golden bird had the same idea.  <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

Over time
\nhowever, in the tree\u2019s goodness and curiosity of heart, it became a harbor for
\nmany types of chattering creatures, each competing for the best spot in the
\ntree.  At first the tree didn\u2019t mind all
\nthe noise and activity, but after while all the hustle and bustle began to
\ndistract the tree from its primary purpose, and what was worse, it couldn\u2019t
\nhear the golden bird as well.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

And as much
\nas the tree loved the golden bird and wanted it to stay forever, it knew it
\nmust have a home somewhere else. 
\nPerhaps, the tree thought, she had come from a faraway shore or perhaps she
\ncame from another tree, a universal tree crowned with the heavens, one that
\ndraped a canopy of verdant green over all things.  Wherever it came from, it was determined to
\nnot only find the golden bird\u2019s home, but to help it return there.  <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

The tree
\nwhirled its branches in a wild frenzy, hoping to loosen the bird, but its efforts
\nhad the opposite effect, and the golden bird\u2019s leg only stuck faster in its
\nspot.  The tree talked incessantly all
\nday and sometimes all night, creating all sorts of dramas and stories hoping to
\nhelp inspire the bird to think up an idea to help free itself.  The tree wanted more and more space with
\nwhich to spread its branches further and further hoping if it did the growth
\nwould open the stuck spot and loosen the leg of the golden bird.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

Little did
\nthe tree know that if it really had wanted to, the golden bird could have
\nlifted, leaving its leg behind only to sprout a new one as it flew away, but
\nthe golden bird was so very moved by the tree\u2019s devotion that it stayed.  It stayed and it sang.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

Over many
\nyears the tree kept trying to free the bird, but still it could not. It went
\nmad for the trying and the failing.  It
\nswooned into a stupor of depression so much so that it began to only focus on
\nthe frenzies of its own talking, and of its own swirling wanting.  It tried so hard to free that golden bird that
\nit forgot to listen to the her song.  Over
\ntime, it somehow managed, as strange as it seemed, to forget the golden bird
\nwas there, even though it loved her dearly.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

To anyone
\nlooking from a distance, it would appear the tree hated the golden bird, that
\nit was somehow an opposing force trying to harm the golden bird or at very
\nleast drown out its song.  In actuality,
\nthe tree stood in deep devotion to that golden bird, and all of its activities,
\nas misguided as they appeared to be, were in service of the one who dwelled in
\nits branches.  Its efforts were, in a
\nword, holy.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

The golden
\nbird used the magic of its song to transform the efforts of the tree into the
\nvery growth and expansion of the tree. 
\nThe tree grew and learned so many things as it sought to free the bird.  It became a strong and deeply rooted tree,
\none whose boughs became a favorite climbing place for the children of the
\nnearby village.  And the golden bird
\nlooked upon all of the tree\u2019s efforts as those of a highly active and creative
\nchild.  She forgave its every forgetting
\nand knew that running through its trunk was the thickest blood of the deepest
\ndevotion.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

One late
\nsummer afternoon the sky darkened.  An
\nominous shiver swept through the leaves of the tree, thunder roiled through the
\nvalley like an invisible wave from an invisible sea.  Within minutes a storm careened off the
\nsurrounding mountains, echoing through the tree sending it spinning in place
\nlike a top, and had it not been for its roots, it would have twisted out of the
\nground and tumbled away.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

In the midst
\nof the storm the tree suddenly heard and remembered the singing of the golden
\nbird, and it stood up as tall as it could reach, stretching and unfolding its
\nbranches as high as they could go hoping to simply hoist that bird back into
\nheaven.  The tree wept its leaves into
\nthe wind as the rain pelted down.  It
\ntried to heave itself upwards, lifting itself from the earth, but its roots
\nwere attached too deeply in earth. <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

And still
\nthe storm raged.  And still the bird
\nsang.  And through the wind and rain, the
\nthunder and the cooling air, the tree loved that singing with such a love that
\nthe world could not, and indeed would never fully understand.  How could it be that such an unlikely pair
\ncould create such a partnership of such breadth and such harmony.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

In their
\ntime together they had done just as the golden bird told the tree they would in
\nits dream from long ago:  they had created
\na bridge between heaven and earth.  The
\ngolden bird wanted a place to settle and sing, and that she got.   The tree wanted to grow and to delight in
\nthe world, and that it got.  And the
\ngolden bird grew to love the tree, and the tree grew to love the golden bird
\nand they both desired to protect the other. However, only the golden bird knew
\nthe truth of the inevitable. <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

And in the
\ndistance, the golden bird saw the lightning. 
\nShe saw it splitting the sky and lighting up the village and the
\nvalley.  She tried to warn the tree, tell
\nit to look out and be careful, to bend out of the way, to stop reaching so
\nhigh, but she knew the tree was rooted to its own personal earth, and that
\nultimately she could do nothing to save it. 
\nSo she did what the tree loved most: she sang.   <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

She sang a song
\nof sky and of blossoming horizons.  With
\nevery note the golden bird draped shawls of light over the branches of the
\ntree.  It garlanded the tree with
\ndazzling strings of musical fireflies that bobbed and danced in the storm
\nlashed branches.  She sang hoping to
\nguide that tree safely through another season. 
\nShe sang even though she felt her foot loosening from the spot that had
\nheld her there for so long.  She sang as
\nthe storm trampled through the sky and gathered directly over the tree.<\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n

And just
\nbefore the lightning touched the tree with its terrible, sudden stroke, tearing
\nit asunder and blasting it to pieces, the tree knew the way to free the golden
\nbird.  Instead of doing all of the things
\nit had been trying to do\u2014all of those things that actually created tension and
\nmore tightness within itself, it suddenly knew to pause, to breathe, and to be
\nstill.  And as it relaxed, a song began
\nto rise like a river up through its roots, and up through its entire
\nbeing.  As the song rose, it gathered
\nearth and moisture, and these flowed into its song, giving it strength and
\npower.  And when the song reached the
\nbranch of the golden bird, it struck the bird with such joy, such sweet and
\nundying devotion that the bird wept, it wept into the sky with tears that
\nrained down upon the tree in a baptism of the most fierce and tender love.  And their songs merged becoming one song,
\nrising and streaming into the heavens directly up through the lightning bolt
\nthat struck the tree, and into the very heart of the Divine Itself, and together,
\nfor a moment that held the entirety of eternity, that tree and that golden bird
\nsang, not as opposites on some mysterious, little known scale of misunderstood music,
\nbut as one\u2014one song of All Life, All Love, and of All Unending Joy.  <\/o:p><\/font><\/p>\n


<\/font><\/p>\n

Thank you for your kind contributions to the continuing work <\/font><\/p>\n

of the Wonder Child Blog.   <\/font><\/p>\n

\n
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 <\/font><\/p>\n

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Golden Bird and the Tree A Fable of the Soul and the Ego By Joseph Anthony   Once upon a time a golden bird wandered the heavens in search for a place to sing.  Seeing a tree that stood alone in the valley of the mountains, she flew in for a closer look.  The […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[11,2,16],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=37"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/37\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=37"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=37"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=37"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}