The story of my Poop

[Everything]

Always without desire we must be found,

If its deep mystery we would sound;
But if desire always within us be,
Its outer fringe is all that we shall see.

 

There once was a poop. The poop was not so happy that it was a poop, because it stank allot. It did not even like its own scent. Even though he was the poop himself.

Don't worry though, this story isn't going to be sad all of the time.

 

But for now, it was pretty sad, yeah...

 

No one liked the poop. All those other people, who were normal people, who didn't stink... Well... They were loved, and appreciated. However... This poop? Not even an inch of love was given to him. What made all those other people more deserving of love?

 

The poop grew tired of all this time, spending, being a poop. He just coulden't take it anymore, so he planned to take it out on all the non stinky people. So he went to their parfume closets, and began hugging all the parfume, untill they all became stankey.

 

Even while the people were dissapointed to find out their parfume were stinky, it didn't change much for him. They were still more happy than him. And he was still a poop. So this just made it more obvious how stinky he was. Not a good plan...

 

Whoever created him, made a mistake of making him so stinky. He coulden't help it being so stinky, and he never asked for it. However, the creator of this poop, surely, they are the responsible of all this stank.

 

Do you think the creator could undo his stank? What if he would remain this stinky for ever? He could not waste anymore time, before it was too late, he wanted to undo his stank, maybe it is possible to still do it. Maybe an eternity of stank is not deemed appropriate, maybe there was a cure.

 

He just had no clue where to find his creator... Oh, what a waste of thought, now he was a stinky poop with an impossible mission on top of the already heavy burden of being shtinkey. Oh, what is he going to do?! There is no way to turn to, no direction to face, no where to begin the search. No where to take refuge from his own stank. Where he went, his stank went right allong with him.

 

He grew tired, and thought about visiting a parfume store to spray parfume on his stank. However, that would make things only worse. A parfume scent blended with the scent of poop was disgusting to even think about. Certainly, that would meet him with his ultimate doom. Nothing seemed to work. As if any possibility of something working out for him ever was revealed to him... No, it was not. He might just remain a poop for ever, and the time he has been a poop already has taken too long in his opinion. He didn't want to be a poop any longer.

 

This life of being a poop, it was not exactly the most fantastic life. He had to avoid people all of the time to avoid shame. He had to wrap himself around in plastic wrapping foil, to prevent the scent from spreading. He had to cover his ugly sight. Life was such for this poor fello... 

 

Day in day out, it was the same story. Always the same story with his life. There was not much change.

He was always worthless. Has always been the same kind of worthless. Today was not going to be any diffrent.

 

There was a certain comfort in that. That atleast circumstances stablized around his identity. He began accepting his relation towards others.

He was beginning to grow appreciation for the people around him, and happily wrapped himself in plastic foil, knowing he could save them the burden of his scent. He felt a certain responsibility towards them which he carried with eagerness, each day. He felt at home with his circumstances and life and relation towards others. This was his life, afterall. This was his life. And it was good. So what, that he stank, atleast he could live his life. Be it unique, it was still alive. He enjoyed many things in his life, such as watching the trees blow in the wind in summer times. Feeling the flies tickly on the surface of his being a poop. Feeling the wind cool down his warm and hot steamy stinkey poop under the sun. This was pretty fantastic actually.

 

He wanted to become at one with nature. He liked nature so much. The journey the wind and weather took, was something to be admired, from his point of view. He knew that even a single water particle in the air, had a perspective, so beautiful and magnificent and full of grace. He wanted to become at one with nature and join their evermore joyful journey through the planet, seeing all the sights, undergoing all the adventures, such as they are doing. Nature was never out of place, never stank, but was rather all pure and appropriate and full of life and joy and never ending variety. Always new suprises to be found.

 

It was easy to let the wind carry him away. His scent already took off in whatever direction it was headed, and he knew, he was the platform from which these knew wind particles would launch into their evermore joyful journey through the air, a never ending stream of appropriate life, in tune and harmony with nature. In complete surrender to the full nature of their being, wherever it may lead them, they would fly there happily, without any form of resistance whatsoever. They simply had no choice other than being the one they are. And they tried not be anything else, for they knew not anything else. 'T was easy for them. Life was good and easy for them. Such as it could be for this poop aswell.

 

He lay down under the sun, on the sidewalk. And he was ready to take on that journey. The sun was already evaporating most of his scent, and his hot steamy water particles were dancing in full excitement, eager to get out in the open sky and fly away to their long awaited journey into the life that is theirs for ever more.

 

He lost awareness of his poopy body, and left it there, to be tickled by the flies that danced around it, in celebration of his departure. This was the appropriate thing to have done, and he knew it. For a last time his gaze met the many people he appreciated so much, and for the first time perhaps he found real peace. And it struck him. The people were his creators. He was made out of the very thing he appreciated so much. They were both one and the same in the grand scheme of things. In heaven they would meet again... And he flew off, onto his heavenly destination, one after the other, always entering a new delightful existance, in evermore expansive ways.

 

There were no words to describe the rest. Other than, he lived happily ever after. And even better than that. But there are no words to describe that. So hush and go to sleep now. And dream of the poop, that flew away on the summer day, and you shall meet him in your dreams and his dreams aswell. And he will tell you all about it, and he will show you the heaven that shall be yours one day aswell.

 

The poop that can be spoken of, is not the enduring and unchanging poop. The essence is there, only to be seen, when you enter your own essence, through which you shall be the resonating witness to all of the many essences.

Edited April 21, 2015 by Everything

[Marblehead]

But then, let's not forget this story:

 

 

 

Master Tung-kuo asked Chuang Tzu, "This thing called the Way - where does it exist?"

Chuang Tzu said, "There's no place it doesn't exist."

"Come," said Master Tung-kuo, "you must be more specific!"

"It is in the ant."

"As low a thing as that?"

"It is in the panic grass."

"But that's lower still!"

"It is in the tiles and shards."

"How can it be so low?"

"It is in the piss and shit!"

Master Tung-kuo made no reply.

Chuang Tzu said, "Sir, your questions simply don't get at the substance of the matter. When Inspector Huo asked the superintendent of the market how to test the fatness of a pig by pressing it with the foot, he was told that the lower down on the pig you press, the nearer you come to the truth. But you must not expect to find the Way in any particular place - there is no thing that escapes its presence! Such is the Perfect Way, and so too are the truly great words. `Complete,' `universal,' `all-inclusive' - these three are different words with the same meaning. All point to a single reality.

 

 

(Watson's translation.)
 

[Stosh]

Fun story. worth reading , not a poop.

[Rara]

Took me a few days to get to read this all the way through.

 

This thread deserves the bump...the bums should check this out

[Stosh]

Bump