Looking down on creation   (Assi)

one night when i was sleeping, a little guy came to me in my dream and woke me up. he said to me things i long wanted to hear. he said: "you son, you've got talent. don't let it go to waste! you must create. find your muse and do that thing you must do. show the world that you're not just another nobody. i believe in you, son, and i'll be back to see how you're doing. so long!" i immediately fell asleep again. but as opposed to what you may think, the fact is that i did remember it in the morning, and no i wasn't drunk when i went to sleep. i kept thinking: "i don't know who this guy is, but he's damn right i've got talent, i've always felt it, just never had a real proof of it. now i know it for a fact, after all not everyone gets a leprechaun on their bedside telling them they are talented and all." so i've decided to follow my destination. that week i quit my job, and stayed home to think. i had to think how i would find my muse. and besides, i didn't really know what i was talented of i decided that i would undoubtedly find my muse in the nature. only the feeling of mother nature surrounding me can clear my head, and tell me what i must already know - what is my destination and talent. so i bought a ticket to ride to the place where nature is all around. the mountains by the sea. that must be the place where my muse is waiting for me. i sat on the cliff, facing the vast ocean. watching the waves trying to chew on the cliffs. feeling the wind blow on my face, bringing a salty taste to my mouth, and a salty smell to my nose. i was starting to feel close to eternity. i closed my eyes every once in a while, and felt really whole. i could almost say i felt i was one with nature. and so the night passed, and the morning came, slowly. i watched the sun rise, as the colors of the sky changed from a dark black into a peachy color and at last the bright color of morning sun. i still sat there, and as the sun started to rise for the second time, i felt something hit me and then i knew. it was like it came from behind me, but as i looked around instinctively, nothing was there other than the morning air and green grass of the cliff. i took my notebook, and wrote on it the thing that came to me. it was "i". that's what came to me. the letter i. i kept sitting there until it was noon. i thought maybe it was just the beginning, but nothing more came, and i thought it was enough, and that if i was meant to get more, it would get to me somehow. i went home to my rented cabin to get some sleep. i woke up and took my notebook into my hands. i watched the lonely letter that was marked on it. i wondered what it meant. and then it hit me once more. it is more than just a letter. this is everything. "i" is not just a letter, it's also a word. it has a meaning. and it can even be considered a sentence. for example, i thought: "who framed roger rabbit? - i". it's a perfectly good sentence (well, almost). so there is actually no reason why it can't be considered a composition. and the meaning that i can talk about for hours. what is the whole essence of our existence if not ourselves? almost every sentence we say from the moment we are born starts with i. and coming to think of it, in the aspect of meaning, it also ends with i, because everything we say is about us and for us eventually (like nitzche said, when you say "i love you", you actually say "i love me".) so having understood my own creation, i was really happy to know that i have found my muse, and i am starting to fulfill my destination in life. i am going to make a difference, and show everyone what art is all about! that night, i went to sleep wishing that the leprechaun would come, and that i could show him my creation. sure enough, he came that night. "look! this is what i came up with, and i know i am starting to fulfill my destination, and create." "garbage!" he says. "what do you mean? how could this be garbage? i felt it came down to me from a muse, from mother nature!" "do you really think one letter is a creation? it hardly counts! this is garbage. my fleas are more creative than you are. one letter ha!" somehow i felt that it would be futile trying to explain to him all the meanings i've thought of. it was humiliating. garbage he said, no more no less. i couldn't sleep any more that night. i felt i had to go back to mother nature and relax. as i sat there, i thought if the leprechaun was even remotely related to the muse who gave me the idea, and if the muse was related to mother nature. after all we are all part of the same world, and we're all mother nature's sons. so how is it possible that nature told me to write something and then he comes along and says it is garbage? i kept sitting there, blending with the nature around me, and then it hit me once more. and i started to like the feeling. it's like i am instructed by a higher authority. i wrote down the words "a letter to god" as the title of my composition, and the rest i didn't touch. i didn't think about that before, but now it's all clear to me. it now has a meaning even to those who didn't write it. the meaning is now clearer - it shines through. how great it is for me to have such an intimate relation with the real mental force of this planet. now i felt that i must be the right one. this cannot be garbage, since it was almost dictated to me by a higher force, and i know it means a lot. that night, i waited for the little leprechaun. but he didn't show up. i stayed on that mountain for a little longer, but then i packed my things and went back home. i got my old job back and everything was back to normal. one night, years later, my son (who was four at the time) came to me and told me a crazy story about a little man who came to his bed and told him something he couldn't understand. when i asked him what it was, he said, "i told him it was garbage".
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