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Have you ever watched the simplicity and innocence of very young children from different cultures and nationalities playing happily together in the dirt - before their parents start to panic about their nice clothes getting dirty ..

A Meditation on several glasses of Home Brew

An ancient ancestor looked through my eyes and reflected at the marvels of evolution - remembering how in his time, there were no glass flagons, nor stainless steel vats - but, the wine then did have an earthy vibration which is missing from the current chemical vintage.

Triantiwontigongolopes and other Bruisers

"There's a very funny insect that you do not often spy, 
 And it isn't quite a spider, and it isn't quite a fly; 
 It is something like a beetle, and a little like a bee, 
 But nothing like a wooly grub that climbs upon a tree. 
 Its name is quite a hard one, but you'll learn it soon, I hope. 
 So try: Tri- 
 Triantiwontigongolope .. "

As I chewed on a piece of pickled pork, a piece of bread and bit into an olive, the same ancestor saw how much had been gained - and how much simplicity was lost.

I wasn't sitting on an old stump in the open air village square - I was standing in a room, well above ground level in front of a stainless steel sink looking at thousands of other houses through the glass window of my mountain vantage point.

The fire crackled in the cast iron heater - another evolutionary marvel. Down in the garden I had just called on the same skills of this man - or another - to dig a vegetable patch. At least, in a month or so I won't have to eat the water pumped chemical fed variety from the supermarket.

Another glass of home brew washed down the cheese.

"It lives on weeds and wattle-gum, and has a funny face; 
 Its appetite is hearty, and its manners a disgrace. 
 When first you come upon it, it will give you quite a scare, 
 But when you look for it again, you find it isn't there. 
 And unless you call it softly it will stay away and mope. 
 So try: Tri- 
 Triantiwontigongolope .."

My dad awakened this remembering. I guess I was fortunate in that he, a bush boy, had the skills and the time to plant his own. 

Memories - I remembered how the ground was dug and fertilized. My mouth watered at the memories of the home grown tastes - and the freshness of fruit and vegetables taken straight from the earth .. 

They had soul.

Down the local nursery, I looked at all of the new varieties of tomatoes and talked to the old nurseryman .. yes, hidden away, he still had the variety I remembered from my childhood.

All of the new ones, he told me, were genetically modified .. developed for mass production - to be pumped full of water, to be force fed with chemicals, to ripen very quickly, to be stored in refrigerators for long periods - and when dropped, they splattered. So I tenderly brought home some of the oldest heritage varieties and planted them in the moist warm earth ..

Back in my ancestors' days, it took a long time for compost to prepare - and a lot of hard work turning the heap of scraps. The old eyes marveled at the new polycarbonate compost tumbler and how it was able to help mother nature speed her own process with so much time saving ..

Yet, something was missing. It was the people - the family - the other villagers sitting around sharing stories, sharing responsibilities, watching their children climb the olive trees .. 

The fruit and vegetables used in the Home Brew didn't come from the supermarket. They came from Bio-dynamic farms where the growers had learned to apply all of the skills of their ancestors .. 

There was a familiar rightness to the third glass .. the memories blurred and the awareness shifted ..

" It trembles if you tickle it or tread upon its toes; 
 It is not an early riser, but it has a snubbish nose. 
 If you sneer at it, or scold it, it will scuttle off in shame, 
 But it purrs and purrs quite proudly if you call it by its name, 
 And offer it some sandwiches of sealing-wax and soap. 
 So try: Tri- 
 Triantiwontigongolope .. "

What if a balance could be found between all of the advances of the generations and we could still have the simplicity of the old values?

We have learned so much.

Yet we have turned our wisdom into the destruction of the very fabric of Life. The agents of war have become even more insidious.

The torture and treachery of the times of my ancestors is still practiced except that tortured minds and bodies now result from the mutations caused by chemicals from the time of the gasses used in the first world war.

Yes - some people seem to live longer, but at what cost?

Now, the memories are so deeply and permanently ingrained in the body that we need drugs to control the personalities created by them. More chemicals - and from my high school days, I remember that there are some chemicals one has to be very careful about combining. I could buy simple stuff down at the local grocery store and make a bomb.

So, the mutated male terrorist who is the result of generations of toxins needs drugs to control his behavior. Many of the females have become resentful - forgetting the fact that it wasn't so many generations ago that they bred male children to hand over to the religious armies so their own freedom could be preserved.

Now, the drugs used to control destroy the sheaths of the central nervous system - and the walls of the vessels that carry the blood of life - and the other half of the species looks like evolving into a spineless creature.

Ritaloids gradually destroy the disks between the vertebrae - can you imagine the pain of a spinal cord without shock absorbers?

The Fathers of the next generation are the product of the war on war itself - a mutation of torture and treachery .. maybe gene therapy, the next evolutionary step will be able to produce designer children without the imprints of the past ..

But, what about the planet .. the same effects are seen in the scars on its surface as it rebels at the removal of the fluid between its joints .. earthquakes and weather changes ..

Mankind has a way of dealing with viruses and bacteria - but will he ever evolve enough to design a drug or be able to perform gene therapy on the planet ..

The old ancestor mused .. back in his day the soil which grew his food was lovingly nurtured so that the food had life .. until some other group became jealous because his land seemed richer ..

another glass of Home brew ..

" But of course you haven't seen it; and I truthfully confess 
 That I haven't seen it either, and I don't know its address.
 For there isn't such an insect, though there really might have been,
 If the trees and grass were purple, and the sky was bottle green.
 It's just a little joke of mine, which you'll forgive, I hope. 
 Oh, try: Tri- 
 Triantiwontigongolope .. "

I wonder - what would happen if the lessons of the past were turned towards a harmony of peoples and abundance for all?

Have you ever watched the simplicity and innocence of very young children from different cultures and nationalities playing happily together in the dirt - before their parents start to panic about their nice clothes getting dirty -

before they are sent to school to learn about God and the mutation of truth - and be taught to pray for the peace that was taken from them.

to rekindle their deep unconscious memories of torture and treachery

For the children to whom THE TRIANTIWONTIGONGOLOPE 
was written by C J Dennis (1876-1938, Australia)

"Triantiwontigongolopes and other Bruisers: a meditation on several glasses of Home Brew" was written, published and © by Transpersonal LifeStreams®, Tasmania, Australia.
The URL's of this page are
https://anunda.com/autobiography/ancestor.htm and http://www.lifestreams.com.au/autobiography/ancestor.htm

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