The chief of a certain village had many advisors.
If there was something he wanted done, he would order it done, and it would be done. “Is it a good thing?” the chief would ask. Whether it was a wise decision or no, his counselors always agreed. Those who did not were beaten. There was one counselor who never said ‘yes’ and never said ‘no.’ This counselor would consider the matter and reply, “All things are connected.”
The village was located at the edge of the marsh. At night when the chief couldn’t sleep, he became aware of the noisy croaking of the frogs. Once it came to his attention, he found himself listening for it each night. The sound annoyed him so much he ordered all the frogs killed.
“Do you agree with my plan?” he asked. His counselors all agreed, except for the one, who warned, “All things are connected.” “Pah!” said the chief, and that night he sent his people to the marshes to kill frogs.
They killed frogs and they killed frogs until there were no frogs left to kill.
“Ah,” said the chief. “Now I shall be able to sleep.”
That night he slept very well, and for many nights thereafter.
But one night he heard another annoying sound. “Zzzzzz…Zzzzz…Zzzzzzzzzzzz…”
He summoned his counselors. “The mosquitoes are worse than the frogs! Why didn’t you tell me they would rise in swarms and eat us alive without the frogs to eat them? Tonight I will send my people to kill all the mosquitoes!” So they killed mosquitoes and they killed mosquitoes. But as many they killed, there were many more left. The mosquitoes made life so miserable that everyone left their fields and homes to start new lives far away, until the village was deserted, except for the chief and his family.
All day long the chief sat alone in his hut, swatting mosquitoes and muttering, “All things are connected.” But it was too late for the frogs. Too late for the village. Too late for the chief. Finally he too moved away.
The wise understand that all things are connected…
By the ground we walk on…
By the air we breathe…
By the the water we drink…
By the rhythm of the heart.
All things are connected…
…and hang by a delicate thread.
We too are living on the edge, and must find the balance between give and take.
Can we learn the difference between just enough…
…and too much?
All…
…things…
…are…
…connected.
What kind of world do we want to leave our children?
The answer is in our hands.
All words and images copyright 2016 Naomi Baltuck
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Writing Between the Lines 