The Swap

Plans were made so long ago    to do the surgery, and so  The time had come, the three were prepped,    the final hour had quickly crept.  The master was ready, with gown in place,    nothing was showing except his face.  The tools of need were neatly spred,    the confident smile showed no dread.  The room so clean, the lights so bright,    the team in place, the time was right.  And on to work with skills aglow    as tools clinked--all was go.  The time did fly, the sweat did come    as step by step he looked towards done.  Who could question what he was doing    with all in place, and nothing strewing.  The mission accomplished, and now we’ll see    if all go well, with no melee.  So once again all systems are started    to verify that none were departed.  The master’s glee showed in his face    as the swapped motherboards were all in place !   © 1996 Oscar Thompson

 

 The Piddler

A farmer's dog came into town,  His given name was Spud.  A noble pedigree had he,  Was definitely not a dud.

And as he trotted down the street,  'Twas beautiful to see  His mark on every, hydrant,  His work on every tree.

He watered every gateway, too,  And never missed a post.  For piddling was his specialty --  Piddling was his boast!

The city curs, looked on amazed  With deep and jealous rage,  To see a simple country dog --  The piddler of the age.

Then all the dogs, from everywhere  Were summoned by a yell  To sniff the country stranger o’er  And judge him by his smell.

Some thought that he a king might be  Beneath his tail a rose.  So every city dog drew nigh  And sniffed it up his nose.

They smelled him over, one by one,  They smelled him two by two  And noble Spud, in high disdain  Stood ‘til they were all through.

Then to show the whole shebang  He didn' care at all,  He trotted to a grocery store  And piddled on the wall.

He piddled in a mackerel keg,  He piddled on the floor,  And when, the grocer kicked him out  He piddled through the door.

Behind him all the city dogs  Lined up with instinct true,  To start a piddling carnival  And see the stranger through.

They showed him every piddling post  They had in all the town,  And started in, with many-a wink  To see the stranger down.

They sent for champion piddlers,  Who were always on the go,  Who sometimes did a piddling stunt.  Or gave a piddling show.

They sprung these on him suddenly,  When midway into town.  Spud only smiled and polished off  The ablest, white and brown.

For Spud was with them, every trick  With vigor and with vim.  A thousand piddlers, more or less,  Were all the same to him.

So he was wetting merrily  With hind legs kicking high.  When most were hoisting legs in bluff  And piddling mighty dry.

But ever on went noble Spud  As wet as any rill,  And all the champion city pups  Were peed to a standstill.

Then Spud did freehand piddling  With fancy flirt and fling,  Like double drip and gimlet twist  And all that, sort of thing.

And all the time this jet-black dot,  Did never wink or grin,  But piddled blithely out of town  As he came piddling in.

The city dogs a convention held  To ask "What did defeat us?"  But no one ever put them wise  That Spud had diabetes!

© 1996 Oscar Thompson

Blue Mound

"Don't be afraid, JD, I come as your friend. You have many questions that I can help with. I will use your language so you can better understand me."

"You don't need to wake up. Just listen to me and ask questions. And travel with me. It will be okay. I am doing this because I see that you want to understand. And I want to tell some of my story."

"Are you willing to talk and travel with me?"

"Ye... , Yes, I am. I don't understand this but I trust you. Which questions of mine do you want to help with?"

"You have great interest in the land where you live. You have deep interest in how the land appeared many years ago, in the animals that roamed the land, the fishes that swam in the seas that were over this land. You have a searching curiosity about the peoples that lived here long before your ancestors entered this land."

"You visited and walked on the rocks that contain the blood of my people, the sacred rocks called pipestone. You visited the area in SW Minnesota that is called Blue Mound. You saw and touched many things on the Blue Mound and you have questions about them. I want to talk about some of what you saw."

"Yes, I know what you are talking about. I did see things that stirred deeply in me and opened my eyes in amazement. Tell me more."

"Let us travel there and walk in that place. Just follow me. Leave your body in bed, you won't need that. Just guide your spirit with me."

"Okay, I will do that. I know that in other dreams, I travel without problems. Let's go."

"Fine. Here, we are at the end of a long row of rocks, set here in the grass on top of the mound. The trees do not block our view as we look in all directions. My people placed these rocks in a long line many years ago. Touch them and you can feel the lichens growing on top as they receive the needed sun and rain. If you touch the bottom, you will also feel some lichens, telling you that at one time, that side of the rock was on top, seeing the sun and rain. These lichens grow slowly and so you can see they have been moved from another place and have been standing like this for many centuries."

"We placed these rocks so they will point to the Sun when it is straight East of us, when it is halfway between its northern most and its southern most points in the sky as we saw it. The Sun is straight East of us at the beginning of Spring and at the beginning of Autumn. When the rocks pointed straight at the Sun as it came up over the horizon, we made a drawing on the teepee of the Chief. This drawing pictured the most important event that happened for us since we made the last mark. These drawings helped us remember our past."

"But these rocks are large. They are too large to be lifted and carried to where they are. How did you move the rocks and where did you get them?"

"You have good eyes, JD. Yes, they are too heavy to carry. Come with me and I will show you where they came from and tell you how we moved them."

"Here as you look down from the top of this outcropping of quartzite, you can see a quarry. This is where the rocks are found. Many of the rocks were lying in this quarry. Others we broke off from larger rocks. This stone is very strong."

"See this rock sitting on the flat surface near the top of the quarry? If you look under the rock, you will see little round stones that we placed under the rock. Then, when we pushed on the rock, it moved as the stones roll. We tied several strips of buffalo hide together to form a rope. We placed the rock at the center of the straps and then strong men would pull on the straps to move the rock, lifting it or sliding it. In this way we moved all the rocks to where you find them today. And I see that not one of them has moved since we placed them there."

"And you wonder how we got the buffalo hides. We did not have horses in those days so we needed to be clever. Come with me."

"See that boulder that stands higher than your head? Look at the face of the boulder. What do you see?"

"Why, I see that the surface is as smooth as glass. It looks like it has been polished. And only the part which is about as high as my shoulder. How did this happen?"

"The boulder was a favorite for the buffaloes to rub themselves on. As the big herds grazed on the tall grass nearby, one after another of the buffalo would take turns rubbing their sides and chest on this boulder. Countless buffalo have stood right where you are standing and rubbed themselves. This rock was good medicine for them."

"Now come with me and I will show you how we killed the buffalo that gave us food and hides."

"If you stand on this edge of the hill, you can look beyond the edge and see that we are standing on a cliff. The bottom of the cliff is about forty feet down and flat. When the herds of buffalo were busy grazing and rubbing themselves, a bunch of us would sneak around behind them and then chase them toward this cliff. They would run fast and some would run right over the top of this cliff. They fell to their death as Mother Earth gave them to us. If you went down there to the bottom, you would find many bones from the days when we would cut up the buffalo. Those were happy days and we always made an offering to Mother Earth in thanks for the gifts of meat and hide."

"You have been very kind in telling me and showing me these things that you and your people did while you lived here. Thank you. By the way, what were your people called?"

"Our people were called by words that mean 'Those that Hunt in the Grass'. May the strength of the buffalo and the Spirit of Mother Earth go with you now as you return to your bed".

JD Thompson

Dec 13 2001, 4:16 PM

Falling Water

Listening to the sound of the rain is like listening to the sound of a waterfall. The water drops from a place above and breaks into streams of spray as it falls. Sometimes I focus on one part of the falls, one large drip of water as it falls. I watch it move downward in ever increasing speed until it strikes a rock and splashes. As it falls into the pool of water at the bottom and breaks through the surface, it produces large volumes of bubbles and spray.

The sounds are hypnotic. The view seduces me to fall with the drops as the wind whistles past me. As I fall, the sun is watching and reveals that I am a rainbow. My colors range from a deep violet through the blue to green to yellow to orange to red. All the cells of my body are resplendent in all of these colors.

As I fall I see the birds dashing around me, flying through my spray to be refreshed. I splash off some rocks, leaving the rocks glistening with aliveness, of having been touched gently but firmly and completely. Down to its pores. The lichens and mosses that make the rock their home are nourished and refreshed. They continue to digest the rocks into small pieces so some of the water approaching will carry along the digested rock down to the pool below. This erstwhile rock now joins with other grains that now form new soil along the banks of the pool and the stream that empties the pool.

After leaving the rock in its transformed state, I now fall further, plunging downward faster and faster until I strike the pool with deafening sound. It is an abrupt stop as I break through the surface and strike a rock in the pool. My color is now black and white. The jarring stop raises my temperature as I try to recover from what had been a blissful and transcendent flight.

It is all chaos and confusion for the moment. Where to go? Up, sideways, nowhere? I join the others and move in unison, as best we can at the split second explosion of our reality. Confusion reigns. What's the best way out of this melee? As I move to the side, I am struck by others falling from above and confusion is thrust on us again. We don't seem to have any control over what we are doing next.

This jumbling continues for a few moments: the abruptness of the change in our motions is now lessening. There are fewer bubbles and the deafening sounds are abating. There are longer moments of determined motion, away from the center of chaos.

Moments later, I feel my thoughts collecting again. I now move rapidly away, escaping the turbulent frenzy that is behind me.

I look up and again see the birds and insects. And I look back to see beautiful colors. And know that the glory of the color- of being all those colors- the purity- the bliss- made the whole experience wondrously exquisite and metaphysically renewing. 

By JD Thompson

Nov 20, 2001, 8:14 PM