The Parable of the 2 dragons was a collaborative energy from several younger animators who wished to try their hand at producing a parable.
This story takes on the traditional tale of a Cherokee chief telling his grandson about life, and has transformed the representation of wolves into dragons for this story.
This is a classic parable that numerous men and women are familiar with. It is simple in nature, but acting on it can be a lot far more demanding. We are in control of which element of ourselves we feed.
Are we focusing our vitality on dread, anger and guilt? The a lot more we target on those emotions, the more they manifest in our lives physically.
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At 19, The Film Pupil Has A Near-Death Expertise
A accurate-to-life parable by B.S. Sensible
This night, much more than two decades in the past, RRR*rrrr*rriding my small scooter on the rain-slicked streets of Eagle Rock, California, heading to the university library to view mad bloodied Viet Nam war documentaries and perform much more on the my surreal Tarkofskian-Jodorowskyish-Lynchian sci-fi war screenplay/poem/guide/reve, it had begun to rain harder, and, huddled in my scarf and jeans jacket, complete and downhill pace ahead, I plunged helmetless through a dark intersection lit only by a swaying green light and a streetlamp sputtering like spark-wood
Brakes locked, I skidded instantaneously into the oncoming metal of a Vintage Dodge 1972 Station Wagon, and my left leg crumpled against the sharp wing of it, shattering my femur into bone shards sent screaming via the flesh of my inner-thigh. While my scooter swiftly disappeared beneath the automobile.
I had left gravity…
tumbling by way of the air, with a fire in the mind.
An odd sensation, for I thought I ‘d reached the ground safely and was rolling, rolling somehow guarding my head, but no, catapulting in a fantastic whiz-whirling somersault by way of the air…
*BAM!* I hit the light pole and crumpled to the street onto my broken leg, which, now unsupported by the femur, snapped at the tibia and fibula into two clean breaks. The leg disappeared beneath me, broken backwards at the thigh.
Properly, I imagined I’d lost it, gone was my leg.
I began screaming: "OH MY GOD!! MY LEGGGGGG!!! OH MY GOD MY LEG!! OH MY GOD MY LEG!!! YOU TORE OFF MY LEEEEEEEGG!!!"
And yelling, "YOU COME BACK Right here!!! OH MY GOD MY LEG!!!" at the driver, himself in extreme duress, slowly dragging my bike under his vehicle, which scraped and scratched at the street as he slowly drove in a broad bewildered circle.
This man, so like God in the form and movement of this story, turned out to be an 82-12 months-old grandfather who hardly ever drove, his eye-sight failing, but had taken the outdated boat out just that evening to fetch some medication from the pharmacy for his poor bed-ridden wife.
(O, who is aware of exactly where even our ideal intentions will lead us.)
In unending fire of ache, I managed to lift this non-leg out from beneath me, and noticed it there to be all higgely-piggely and zig-zaggedy and just a fully unhappy and utterly f*cked-up looking leg.
Soaked in rain imagined to be blood, I had a delusion of my foot falling off and my life’s water draining away into the gutter and coursing on into the boundless sea….
But then I recognized that it was just my shoe that had fallen off from the end of this infernal discomfort machine leg, and I sunk back in the direction of the curb, adrenalin rush waxing into shock and madness, to expertise a quick-fire series of really lucid and empirically rationalizing epiphanies:
Pondering back to my screenplay, I grew to become thrilled that I was actually encountering a modest taste of what a soldier whose leg has just been blown off from a land-mine may possibly be feeling and that this was "great things" for the writing and movie and nicely due to the fact of this occasion and potentially possessing to live my lifestyle with a single leg I would in no way be called to support ought to there be a draft in coming wars and any way this is not even half as undesirable as that and was not all that a jolly great relief and living with a single leg or in a wheelchair is so considerably better than being dead and wow in spite of my lack of helmet and the simple typical sense to put on a single I had managed to not to hit my head so thank the Earth Mom and Wonderful Omnisexual Oneness of The Universe for that.
At that second, I was lifted up and held there by the Living Embodiment of Good Will and angelic potential in all human beings… the local high school football coach, who had just been strolling by when the accident happened.
"Lean on me son," he said with a type, robust, deep voice tenured from many years of comforting injuries on the playing discipline. As I did, a fantastic golden light emanated from his sturdy coach’s arms, illuminating, calming, and warming us like a crackling campfire…
A strange curtain of onlookers with blackened eyes had gathered around us swaying gently, mouths agape, as if submerged zombies lit by a flickering Tv set.
This static zombie curtain was then parted by a Biker, who, at 1st, appeared to me a dark angel come clad in leather to declare my soul for Satan’s domain. Unveiled to be also an Agent of Good Will, hell-bent and free of charge, he started screaming at me:
"OH Man! OH Guy! OH Man! The identical issue occurred to ME! Guy! I was ridin’ along, noticed the entire point, Guy! and *SccrrreeecCHCH* Bam! Very same Point! "
(Now, some of you may possibly understand these lines and this scenario as getting quite equivalent to a throwaway scene in David Lynch’s "Wild At Heart." Even so, I submit to you that the occasions depicted in this tale of casual vehicular mayhem really preceded that movie by a couple of many years so you inform me exactly where the concept comes from? Some would say the collective subconscious, in which folks do pop up like concepts… I do. Or, possibly it really is just a common issue to say to crash victims.)
But I digress, the Biker then incredulously pulled down his pants to show me his quite a few scars:
"Check it out, Guy! I got metal here! Here! Here! They’re gonna put you back together and you are gonna be riding along in no time, Guy!! Hey! I gotta go! My bike’s parked on the side!"
Then, pants up, he shook my hand, "YOU Get CARE BRO!" and was away as Time Itself.
I then knew that…
faraway, so shut… angels and zombies do live amid us.
By B.S. Wise on 2009-10-22 01:fifty five:48
We all know the story of Jonah, he was swallowed by a whale, but do we know the back story? God needed Jonah to go to Nineveh to deliver the prophesy that God would destroy the city if they did not adjust their approaches. Jonah chose to flee from his destiny as an alternative and boarded a ship for Tarshish, going in the exact opposite course. God sent a storm against the ship, the sailors determined that Jonah was to blame for the storm, and Jonah confessed and was thrown overboard, to be swallowed by the whale. He invested 3 days in the whale’s belly, praying, before being thrown up on a beach, then relented and went to Nineveh. His passionate preaching convinced the citizens of Nineveh to repent, and the city was spared.
So what does this have to do with making a profession or company right now? I am glad you asked! So frequently, I see individuals fleeing from their destiny, their mission, their heart’s desire, and it appears like the whole world is punishing them for it. They can’t get a work or they are caught in shitty, meaningless jobs, they struggle with their marriages, they sink into the chasm of despair and self-recrimination and shame, and the farther they run, the worse it will get. They inform themselves all sorts of stories about why they can not do it now: “The economy is terrible,” “First I’ll get a occupation and get settled, then I will (make a profession shift, go back to grad college, start off the organization I dream about, what ever),” “It could never operate, my wife will depart me and I’ll end up living in a van by the river,” “I am too outdated,” and so forth, etc. Meanwhile, they are shedding time, wasting resources, and making absolutely everyone around them crazy, all simply because they will not answer *the calling*.
For me, it was about coaching. I knew, on some level, that I desired to be a coach given that the initial time I met with my very first coach in excess of 5 many years ago. I just bear in mind contemplating, “her occupation seems to be quite amazing.” I would cycle in and out of this “information,” placing off the coaching system due to the fact “I had to wait until I could afford it,” and meanwhile I was underemployed as a training advisor, feeling awful about myself and asking yourself what I could do about it. My bad wife and daughter had to place up with my misery as effectively. Later, I got a task, and my boss resented the fact that I harbored this dream of getting a coach. She needed me to drop the total issue, she saw it as a distraction from my present responsibilities. So I place it on the back burner and plotted my future. When my company became financially unstable and started laying people off, I figured it was a matter of time ahead of they came for me, so I negotiated severance and left, to grow to be a coach. Finally, I pulled the trigger, registered for the courses, and started developing out a coaching practice. I nevertheless have a extended way to go towards my goals of a six-figure practice, but I really like my work. The successes are sweet, and the failures are my very own and I learn from them. I have not equaled my previous salary yet, but I will, on my personal terms, and even if I never, I will go down swinging.
What is it for you? What dream keeps reasserting itself, generating you uncomfortable, refusing to be ignored? Maybe you inform your self that its as well impractical, no 1 succeeds at this kind of factors, it truly is not “serious,” it’s insane to throw away a protected (yeah, appropriate) corporate job to chase a dream, no matter what. But when that stunning, sweet dream appears, the one that makes you come to feel each powerful and vulnerable, the one particular that gets you choked up since it is so shut to your soul’s desires for the world, what do you do? What do you want to do? Run away? Keep suffering, or even just living meekly, since your calling is “scary?” What is more scary I request you, the chance of failing at one thing spectacular and breathtaking, or succeeding at anything boring and uninspiring? Historical past remembers, even celebrates, boldness, whether or not it pays off (Fall of the Berlin Wall, Moon Landing, Charles Lindbergh) or not (Tiananmen Square uprising in China, Amelia Earhart). No a single remembers the man who showed up, did his work and stayed out of the way. Audacity is its personal reward.
So what is calling you? What Large, Audacious Dream is calling you? Do you want to deliver women’s rights to Afghanistan? Do you want to bring jobs to underserved urban neighborhoods? Do you want to start your very own tech firm? Do you want to tour Mongolia? Do you want to adjust our nations laws? The globe demands heroes. Heroes modify every thing. And sometimes they do well, and its stunning. Other occasions, they crash, but even that can be spectacular and inspiring (Jesus Christ was executed, how much worse could it be?) Stop running away and encounter your destiny, embrace the fear and *dwell*. Go to Nineveh, and share with them the presents that God gave you.
David Kaiser, Ph.D.