My Choice (Part 1 of 5)

Mostly he came to the hillside every day, trudging through the mud and struggling up the steep hill.  Usually his head was down and he was muttering away to himself while his dog darted about all over the place under no obvious control.  When the days were short, they came to us soon after the sun rose.  On other days they were later.  Some days he didn’t appear at all and that caused much consternation amongst us - he was missed and we wondered what might have happened.  Our chatterings were full of concern on such days even though he always came back with his dog.  He was missed because he was special to those of us who lived on the hill and to me in particular.

He sensed the arboreal noise of our chatter which the wind carried through the air and which the earth spread through our roots in many wondrous ways.  When we were particularly noisy, he stopped and looked around.  He felt something was going on but didn’t know what it was; he stood in a state of wonder and bewilderment while all our sounds and feelings entered his mind without him being aware of it.  Other times, he looked directly at me and we connected in some mysterious and important way.

Only a few humans possess the gift to connect and that is why he was special to us.  Our chatterings go deep into the minds of these special ones and, later, emerge into their consciousness in many ways.  Our hillside friend wrote stories and, without him being conscious of it, he drew inspiration from the tales and experiences we gave him.  He thought it was his rich, fertile imagination at work.  He should be so lucky.

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