OK, gentle readers. There’s a picture to the left of this text. Unless you’re using a Microsoft product to view this webpage. If you are, all bets are off. The picture could be anywhere. Or nowhere. The Gates Foundation be …
Where was I? Oh. Yeah. That picture. What do you see?
A rose? You’re sure, now? Last chance to change your vote.
That’s what I was afraid of. The Thought Police, not to mention the botanists, have done their work too well. You have all been completely indoctrinated, and you are now (bwahahaaa!) in their power. The Thought Police’s, that is. The idea of somebody, anybody, being in a botanist’s power is just too funny. Take a look at a botanist’s paycheck sometime. Bring a good microscope …
Excuse me. Where was I again? Right. The thing you think is a rose.
Because, you see, Gertrude, that rose is not a rose.
It’s a poppy.
Really.
Let me show you.
You all know about poppies? Oh, c’mon. You’ve seen the Wizard of Oz. If you haven’t, you’re probably still in middle school. Go ask your grandmother. If she hands you this big clunky black thing and calls it something that sounds like “VHS”, just take it down to the computer store, there’s probably some wheezy old geezer in the back room who still remembers how to convert it to Blu-Ray for you. Watch the movie (or, shock horror, read the book), and come back. I’ll wait.
So here’s Dorothy, running through this big field of poppies on her way to the Emerald City, where she figures, if she works hard enough, one day she’ll get this wonderful executive position with a big salary, stock options, perks … Right. Poppies. Large, showy flowers, rather like what you think are roses, eh? They’re pretty, and they smell nice, and Dorothy slows down to notice them, and, well, you know what happens next …
If it hadn’t been for that do-goody-good Glinda, showing up with that freak snowstorm in the proverbial nick of time, Dorothy would have been carried off by the flying monkeys, and by the time she fought her way out of their clutches and got to the Emerald City, the Munchkins would have beaten her to all the top jobs, and she would have spent the rest of her life flipping burgers at Professor Marvel’s Marvelous Drive-In.
Right?
No, let me ask you a question. How many times has somebody told you to “stop and smell the roses?” Huh? Have you ever wondered what whoever it was meant by that? “Oh, that’s just a wonderful soul who wants me to slow down and take care of myself”. Indeed. How do you know that “the wonderful soul” is not a Munchkin who’s getting you to slow down, maybe even sleep, so he can pass you?! Or a Wizard who’s trying to keep you from threatening his position without actually kneecapping you …
The business-suited young man strove,
His smooth face creased with care;
The old man came with kindly mien
And said, “Young man, beware –“The race you run is strewn with bones
Of those who tried and failed;
Take time, rest easy, be one with the world,
Lest you perish through travail.”The young man stopped, and smiled, and let
The flowers bloom in his hair;
He traded in his suit for jeans
And ran concessions at the fair.The neighbors clucked and gossiped long
‘Bout promise ne’er fulfilled;
The old man laughed in inward glee,
His seat on the altar secured!
Poppies … poppies …
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2009 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.
O'Ceallaigh & The Quill 
Any time I can stop and smell the roses I will. Be it right or wrong. But when one does hopefully they are smart enough to know whether it is Glinda or a winged monkey. Poppies…Poppies….Poppies
still has thorns…
and i dont care if munchkins pass me by…
they can have it
where is it written that we have to BE something anyway?
why cant we just be?
For some reason I keep hearing in my mind Glinda asking “Are you a good witch or a bad witch?”
Thom, those who are smart and/or experienced enough can do as they will. But how do you know if/when you’re smart enough? Not all poppies are big and showy and obvious. And your little dog, too.
If resources weren’t limiting, Rosie, we indeed could just “be”. Trouble is, resources (time, money, space, food, jobs) are limiting. Only those who have secured their “space” can afford to relax … and, as I daresay a lot of folk are finding out these days, now that the real value of stocks is the same today as it was in 1966, they can’t relax too much.
Timing is everything, Brooke …
Touche. I always thought everyone knew that the answer was always with you regardless of what poppy field you encounter: it’s just 3 clicks of the ruby red slippers to return to Kansas? And Toto will return as well as long as he’s in ones arms
[…] “Leave the photons and electrons out of this. Let’s talk about this ‘let me’ business. Most people’s bodies don’t let them stay awake. Yours won’t let you sleep? Why not? You scared of somethin’? Munchkins, perhaps?” […]