Trying to remain calm on Mondays?
Mania, mayhem and maladjustment in the Super Freak department?
Not up to snuff when putting on the ‘I live to be abnormal everyday…but Monday’ badge of honor?
Monk Mondays and Buddha baby bedtime stories are the way to embrace your emotional and spiritual rectum cleansing!
The City of Bedtime Bugs
Once upon a time there was a city. It was a city different from the other cities that we may know. But the people who lived there thought it was the nicest place in the world.
The city did not belong to Europe, or Africa, nor, Japan, not China or Australia. It was in the United States. In fact, it was to be found in California. And whereabouts in California but the city of Angels: Los Angeles!
The city was filled to the brim with nice people and wonderful estates. We would not have like these houses at all, not you or me, or anyone else but the people who lived in them. It would only make sense that those who loved these houses were Mud Bugs and they found the cool wet comfort of mud houses just right.
Of the many Mud families, Mrs. and Mrs. Joan Mudbug were the proud parents of a new son. Happy were they to know that their very,very,very fat and round son was the smartest among the Mud babies who lived in the neighborhood.
As their son grew up he became wiser and much more curious than the other Mud bug children. He asked question upon question upon question to which some did not know the answers to. The young fat Mud bug went to Grandpa and other elders for answers to his questions but often was given no response to his questions.
He best friend,was an older gentleman by the name of Mr. Greenfrog. Mr. Greenfrog had eyes that would pop out which made him look much wiser than his peers. This older gentleman seemed to have the answers to the questions that John Mudbug had been curious about.
Excitement had grown in Mud city for Grandma Mudbug had decided one morning to just get up out of bed and without saying goodbye to anyone not even Grandpa Mudbug climbed to the top of the tallest water-fern. She struggled and puffed and struggled and puffed. Grandma Mudbug had been known for her chubby disposition and big backside and climbing had never been her thing. Up and up and up and snorting and snorting she went until she vanished just above the water.
As the townspeople stood in awe and amazement, the thought among many had been:
‘Who will watch the little Mud Bug children now? Who will bake the Mud cakes? Who will tell the bedtime stories now that Grandma is gone?’
“But where has she gone?” cried John Mudbug
Of course, that was a question that had no answer.
Immediately John Mud Bug went to see his friend, Mr. Greenfrog.
The wise Mr. Greenfrog listen with great interest as John told his tale of woe. As the story ended a smile stretched across the older gentleman’s face.
“I know all about it. I have set above the water and watched the Mud Bugs crawling up the water-ferns many times. I saw old Grandma Mud Bug come up just this morning.”
“What happens to them after they come out of the water?” asked John excitedly.
“Why they simply toss off their old skin and become creatures that grow bigger and bigger. They have long and sleek bodies with wings like glass and they just simply fly away.” explained Mr. Greenfrog.
“Oh, I shall want to do that someday too!” said John Mudbug
“Yes, they all do it!” replied the wise old Mr. Greenfrog.
John went back with his knew found wisdom and told his parents and the townspeople. Many refused to believe John’s tale and continued to howl and cry complain.
They were much like the people of today.
John learned his simple lesson. A lesson that many still have yet to learn.
The art is in our rebirth and that change is inevitable. Our thoughts, actions and deeds make it so.