PART TWO:
Grub and Spirits. Introduction to a Cloud of Midges and a Cloud of Unknowing. In the University of Hard Knocks is there Room for Questions? Are there ever any Answers?
Peering into the space vacated by the glittering Dragonfly the Spider cleared his throat and said -It appears to my mind, tempered as it is to razor sharp perspicuity by the refining fires of philosophical enquiry…
-Come again, interrupted the Fly, less stridently than usual, for the Dragonfly’s attention had left her somewhat in a state of shock.
-It appears to me that my web is a much safer place to pass a few hours than your flimsy and exposed little reed.
-What do you mean? The Fly gave a bleat, trying to compose herself. She looked behind her and bending her head blew her nose noisily into the hairs of her armpit.
-I mean, said the Spider, that the world is a dangerous place.
There was a pause and for a moment nothing could be heard but the rustling of the reeds and the quiet lapping of ripples in the shallows of the pool below. Then the Spider spoke.
-Solitude is the hallmark of the philosopher as I have explained, he said smoothly, -but let me reiterate. I have been thinking that perhaps two heads might be better than one, not only for the light hearted ping-pong that is a frivolous dinner party debate among genteel sophisticates, but also when it comes to solving the Great Questions.
-Questions? the Fly said, -what questions?
-The Questions of the Universe, said the Spider.
- University things is beyond me, said the Fly. –for when it comes to questions, I have rarely never had any of that kind of thing and it seems to me I rarely never have any now.
-No, said the Spider sadly, -most people rarely never do. He was thinking: -in the University of Hard Knocks there are no Questions and no Answers. There is just grub.
Out loud he said -although a quick ferreting around under the cobwebs of your rarely never little brain might surprise even you.
At the mention of cobwebs the Fly sneezed violently. An annoyance of midges rose in a brown cloud from the foliage about her and then, realising there was nothing in it for them, faded away like a puff of brown smoke.
The Spider gave a deep sigh and his web throbbed around him in sympathy like the strings of a harp. He looked first to the right and then to the left and said -Two short glances around this vicinity have led me to the conclusion that eating alone without the encouragement of a guest and thus deprived of the witty repartee of a properly constituted dinner party is an ugly and depressing thing, but it is nothing compared with the hunger for the Unknowing.
-Food feeds the body, said the Fly unknowingly, and as you are so full of knowing let me now be silent.
-A good choice, said the Spider, for it is well known that silence feeds the soul and in transcendental circumstances even leads it to where it doesn’t know it wants to go.
Had the Fly wished to meditate on this cryptic utterance, which was unlikely, since she already didn’t know where she wanted to go and a few minutes before had been utterly convinced she knew where she didn’t want to go, it was now too late. The opportunity had departed, for at that very moment there was a small commotion in an adjoining clump of reeds and a gaudy personage poked his head into sight.
Grub and Spirits. Introduction to a Cloud of Midges and a Cloud of Unknowing. In the University of Hard Knocks is there Room for Questions? Are there ever any Answers?
Peering into the space vacated by the glittering Dragonfly the Spider cleared his throat and said -It appears to my mind, tempered as it is to razor sharp perspicuity by the refining fires of philosophical enquiry…
-Come again, interrupted the Fly, less stridently than usual, for the Dragonfly’s attention had left her somewhat in a state of shock.
-It appears to me that my web is a much safer place to pass a few hours than your flimsy and exposed little reed.
-What do you mean? The Fly gave a bleat, trying to compose herself. She looked behind her and bending her head blew her nose noisily into the hairs of her armpit.
-I mean, said the Spider, that the world is a dangerous place.
There was a pause and for a moment nothing could be heard but the rustling of the reeds and the quiet lapping of ripples in the shallows of the pool below. Then the Spider spoke.
-Solitude is the hallmark of the philosopher as I have explained, he said smoothly, -but let me reiterate. I have been thinking that perhaps two heads might be better than one, not only for the light hearted ping-pong that is a frivolous dinner party debate among genteel sophisticates, but also when it comes to solving the Great Questions.
-Questions? the Fly said, -what questions?
-The Questions of the Universe, said the Spider.
- University things is beyond me, said the Fly. –for when it comes to questions, I have rarely never had any of that kind of thing and it seems to me I rarely never have any now.
-No, said the Spider sadly, -most people rarely never do. He was thinking: -in the University of Hard Knocks there are no Questions and no Answers. There is just grub.
Out loud he said -although a quick ferreting around under the cobwebs of your rarely never little brain might surprise even you.
At the mention of cobwebs the Fly sneezed violently. An annoyance of midges rose in a brown cloud from the foliage about her and then, realising there was nothing in it for them, faded away like a puff of brown smoke.
The Spider gave a deep sigh and his web throbbed around him in sympathy like the strings of a harp. He looked first to the right and then to the left and said -Two short glances around this vicinity have led me to the conclusion that eating alone without the encouragement of a guest and thus deprived of the witty repartee of a properly constituted dinner party is an ugly and depressing thing, but it is nothing compared with the hunger for the Unknowing.
-Food feeds the body, said the Fly unknowingly, and as you are so full of knowing let me now be silent.
-A good choice, said the Spider, for it is well known that silence feeds the soul and in transcendental circumstances even leads it to where it doesn’t know it wants to go.
Had the Fly wished to meditate on this cryptic utterance, which was unlikely, since she already didn’t know where she wanted to go and a few minutes before had been utterly convinced she knew where she didn’t want to go, it was now too late. The opportunity had departed, for at that very moment there was a small commotion in an adjoining clump of reeds and a gaudy personage poked his head into sight.
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