Animals Discussing Philosophy

Dialogue 1: Brother Raven and Grandmother Moon Discuss the Way

One clear night an old raven was flying through the woods with a rare, gold trinket gripped in his beak. He was feeling quite proud of himself, so he flew up on high to show the moon. “Hello grandmother,” he said, “have you ever seen such a treasure?”

“A treasure indeed! It looks resplendent in my light.”

Raven, however, was not satisfied with this praise. “But tell me true, have you ever seen anything at all like it? So marvelous? So bright? Perhaps the sun itself, but that could not be fit into a beak! No, I have the pinnacle of what an old bird like me could possess.”

“What you have, brother raven, is surely precious. There is, however, an even greater treasure- and you already possess it.”

Raven descended a bit, settled himself on a tree branch high up in the canopy and faced the moon directly. “What do you mean ‘an even greater treasure?’ Is it as bright?”

“It is bright, it is dark and it is neither.”

“You speak in riddles! But this treasure, is it great?”

“In contrast to all created things, it is immeasurable.”

“Then how, sage moon, could I possibly possess it without knowing it?”

“You have never thought of it, and it has never made itself known, for its nature is humility. Or rather, it is not so much humble as it is not arrogant; it is simple and makes no pretensions. But it is truly precious, for once directly known it confers the gift of eternal life.”

“Eternal life? Bold claims, grandmother! Tell me, do you possess this gift as well?”

“All things do: the feathered people, the furred people, the scaled people and the two-legged. The trees, the stars, the rocks, the waters, the sun and yes, I as well.”

“Ha! Surely you must then be joking. All who can see know your nature; you wax and wane and then you are gone and dead, and then you are born again and wax and wane once more.”

“The death of those who know this treasure is only an appearance; in reality Father Time does not touch them. All created things, every insect, every mountain, the sun and stars themselves- they all must die; this is true. But only until they realize the nature of the treasure which they always carry, for as soon as they do so death becomes nothing more than a show, a play, of which they become the author.”

“And what is the name of such a treasure, one that all have but do not know, one that is immeasurable and that grants freedom from birth and death?”

“Names denote limitations and divisions. The wise are reluctant to name it, but for the sake of others some call it ‘the Way’.”

“Tell me then,” said the raven, “what exactly is the Way?”

“The Way is what words can never express!” replied the moon. “The Way is the wind beneath your wings, the sun upon your back, the branches that support your feet and the old flesh that slides down your beak. It is the breath that leaves your throat and the thoughts that run through your mind. It is the tides of the waters, the days and the nights and the seasons of the year.”

“I know what the wind is, and the sun is, and I know branches and I know the flesh of animals. I know, as well, the distinctions between day and night. But what is the ‘Way’? So far you have told me nothing!”

“Where all distinctions dissolve, where ‘nothing’ and ‘everything’ join and become one, that is the Way.”

“Indeed, it is the ‘Way’ of your foolish chatter, where you talk about everything and yet tell me absolutely nothing of substance!”

“The Way is the substance behind all substance. It is both the film upon which all is projected and the images that move about upon it.”

“Oh bother! Just tell me: is it big or is it small?”

“It is infinite in size, and yet it is a poppy seed, a subdivision of an atom, an impossible minuteness.”

“Is it mind or is it matter?”

“It is that which dissolves their distinction.”

“Is it internal or is external?”

“It is their meeting place.”

“What is its shape?”

“It has no shape, and yet it is every form and color and texture.”

“What is its sound?”

“It is silent, it is a single word and it is all the voices of existence.”

“How does it feel?”

“Like cool rain on a summer afternoon.”

“Well, this is very poetic and all but I still don’t know or understand it any better now, do I? Tell me clearly, how can I see this mysterious Way with my own eyes?”

At this the moon laughed and the sky shook. “Do not ‘try’ to see any ‘thing’. Just look!” Then came some clouds, and the moon was hidden, and there was only darkness save for the light of a single star.

Dialogue 2: Two Ants Discuss the Nature of God

Two ants were walking back to the nest, carrying with them the remains of a dead grasshopper they had found amongst the grass.

Said one of the ants to the other: “Those who say ‘God is good’, sister, are surely mistaken. God is a bloody thing.”

The second answered the first: “Dear sister! What causes you to say that?”

“Well, how do you suppose the universe came into being?”

“Creation is merely the thought of God.”

“Yes, this is knowledge shared by all insect-kind. Well, just take a look at the nature of the world; it is supported by suffering and death. All who live upon it must die and become food for another, or the whole thing falls apart. And all those who live fear death, and suffer because of it, but despite all their suffering and fear are still unable to stave it off. Therefore, the nature of God is threefold: fear, suffering and death.”

“Hmph! Well spoken sister, but it is only a partial truth. To a fish in a muddy pond, the world seems dark and small. To the red hawk which soars patiently under the sun, it is bright and wide. Who can say which is right or wrong?”

“An interesting view, sister, but hardly relevant. If you have nothing to reply to my words, it would be more prudent not to speak.”

“Ah, but you are mistaken! You are the fish in a small pond, and your world is dark and small and preoccupied with death. But those whose minds are free soar far beyond the confines of that tiny realm and experience infinity. For them, God is freedom. Yet neither are wrong, it is only a matter of perspective.”

“Tell me then,” replied the first, “in what manner is God freedom?”

“I said ‘creation is the thought of God’, I did not say ‘the thoughts of God’. I used the singular.”

“But creation is manifold! Surely the thoughts of God, similarly, are manifold!”

“From a single seed comes roots, a stem, branches, leaves, flowers and fruit. They appear distinct, yet their continuity is apparent. If they were separate, they would come into and out of existence separately, yet they arise only together. They sprout from a single source and sustain one another as a single whole. This is the nature of all of creation; from a single seed all of existence evolves! This seed is the one Word, the original Thought, of God.

Sister, you see your flesh and blood as your own, I see it only as the earth. You feel your breath as your own, I see it only as the wind. You know your thoughts as your own, I know my thoughts as those of this all-encompassing reality itself. And again, reality is nothing more than the thought of God. Since God is not separate from her thought, as film is not separate from the image that dances upon it, you are not separate from God. As you are not separate from God, and God is beyond life and death, you do not die. As you do not die, there is no cause for fear. As there is no cause for fear, there is no cause for suffering. As such, the nature of God is indeed threefold; She is peace, She is happiness and She is eternity.”

The other ant nodded. They said nothing more during the rest of the journey home, as she thought on her sister’s words.