The Life of a Seed

One time there was a poppy seed who liked to do some thinking from deep within its mother-flower.

The seed was in a melancholy mood and was considering his days to come. "Now why is it that I'm so put off with the idea of falling to the earth and becoming a duplicate flower?" he thought, as always, to himself. "I'm uncomfortable with the whole idea. I wish to be something special, something unique. I refuse to follow the pattern of my ancestors. I must be free to choose. I must have my own life!"

Suddenly a robin appeared, and brushing against the mother poppy, caused many seeds to spill from the flower and into the open air. Our seed friend went flying, as did many of his brothers and sisters, over and down to the earth below.

After a brief journey of about five human hand lengths, our little friend bounced to and fro, quicker than most eyes could see, and ended up being seated comfortably in in a small grey indentation there in his mother's meadow. He thought, "Well, that wasn't too bad of a journey. I thought that the descent would be a little different. But, anyway, now I suppose I am supposed to grow in the traditional manner. Hummph!"

Although he actually felt good, his concerns didn't allow him to appreciate it. He busied himself in self torment, regarding what he considered a forced and regimented destiny. "Is it possible to change that destiny? No, no, no!" he thought, and pressed the pity in upon himself.

Again and again he thought through the process of a typical poppy seed's life, such as his own, and it all seemed unsatisfactory, unsatisfying, perhaps humiliating. He was well aware that, in the first stage of post descent, he would wait for a rain shower or for a sprinkler to be turned on, then he would be softening his own surface and sending out two sprouts; the end of a stem and the end of a root. As I said, the thought was quite bothersome, and bothersome for the reason briefly mentioned.

He even grumbled "Even after millions of years of my own species existence, here it is that I lie, held to enact the same boring order without the least allowance for how I feel about it. I'm not naive: I know I'm being difficult about this, but I must finally take a stand and object to unquestioned tradition. I'm not going to fall into lock step simply because every other seed isn't willing to think for themselves. There is something I have to take on myself to do: I've gotta be me. I need to express my own uniqueness."

The self aimed speech thus complete, he entrenched his frustration, knowing that it was a unlikely that his wishes could be fulfilled. Queerly, though, for those of us unfamiliar with certain causal principles, the seed's wish had already been answered.

You see, the robin was really a magic bird, and when it brushed the mother-plant, the seeds were given the power of the knowledge tree. It was remembered that, shortly after the time that our little seed fell to earth and made known its harsh wishes, it had received a vision that showed that his mind had a power and could change his destiny. It occurred to him, possibly correctly, that he could do whatever he wanted. He was so excited, he didn't even think about telling his brothers and sisters who laid dispersed through the surrounding locale.

The realization brought excitement to our little seed, which in turn brought a rush of thought, and then,"Of being a plant, I have always loved the flower most of all," was heard aloud, even by the other seeds nearby, although seeds tend to speak rather quietly.

"Now that I know that I can make a wish, why should I have to grow a stem first, then the leaves and then finally a flower? I shall be the first poppy to begin in the way that I want! And that is to be a flower right now instead of having to entertain that long, ordinary and dull process of growing stem, a root-web and leaves first!"

So the seed, just as he intended for himself, went to flower. Unfortunately, the flower petals, being underground, became damp and began to rot. Not bees nor human could see it's luster, nor could petal, pistol or stamen mature without proper sunlight.

Thereby, it could not be avoided that the seed-flower came to a premature end, incapable of a progeny. And this ends our story, except for one small thing.

Just after the next process, the dissolving of the elements, and just before ascending into the Fifth Plant Spectrum, he went to receive what would be his official commiseration note (including his next and what would be now a more dubious routing, complete with a hopeful litany of preparation instructions) by securing his pass at the Second Kingdom Palace ticket counter of their local seemingness system (as opposed to our nearby human one) and then proceeded through the Third Committee's Directional Adjudication Lectern. Firmly facing his his next journey, his next destiny, it was at this very point that the plant had what humans beings might call their "last thought as a summation of a lifetime." It was "I'm not going to make that mistake again!"