The Legend of Rock Soup Examined

It’s a great story, about how this wandering peasant came into a village hoping for some handouts. He was hungry, he was willing to work, but he needed some sustenance first. But the houses... the humble wee houses... were all locked up tight, their occupants keeping to themselves, protecting what little they had from everyone else.

They were all poor themselves. Each of these households only had so much, they had no intention of sharing. None of them had enough to share, they thought. So the wanderer picked up a rock and called out to the villagers, proposing to light a fire in the square and make a soup out of this rock. It was to be a big pot of soup they could all share. The villagers watched this crazy man from their windows as he somehow assembled a fire, a large old pot which he filled with water from the river, and then added his rock. One by one they came out of their houses to watch this crazy man. Each brought some small thing they could afford to show him what was really needed to make a healthy soup. One came with a carrot, one an onion, one a potato, one some cabbage, etc. Before long, the rock soup began to resemble a real soup, giving off the delicious odour of a nutritional meal. As it cooked, neighbours got acquainted and shared their stories, and when the soup was ready, everyone got a meal from the pot, including the resourceful wanderer.
Of course, it’s a story of community. None of us is an island and all that. And indeed, there are some great places online to share nuggets of our experience, knowledge, acquired wisdom, as well as great sites to learn new things and toss around ideas, and blogs to read about what others are experiencing. Many are focussed on one aspect of one thing, such as health, but if it’s where you need to be, that’s great. Some are more general in their scope, and are also free. Physically ill from the gluten in my diet and very depressed from it as well, I went to several sites this past Spring, and it was on the health sites that I discovered what might be my problem. I removed gluten from my diet and began to feel better. I took vitamin D and Omega 3 and began to pick up mentally and emotionally as well. I found ideas at one site and began a renewed exploration of self, where I was at and where I was headed. It was here I discovered the legend of Rock Soup.

The owner of this site is well versed in legend, learning, philosophy and life. He put out some very thought-provoking ideas in videos as well as posts that helped get my brain working again. The only problem I had with this site, was that there was no one of my age and experience to talk with. This man was gathering quite the following of young people. Now don’t get me wrong... I have nothing against young people. They are refreshing and often have approaches and ideas that keep the aging mind alive. Out of the mouths of babes and all that. But a sprinkling of older folk would be nice on such sites too... sort of for balance.

Also, I can't help noticing that the internet is not the money-making glam marketplace some think it ought to be. A lot of sites start out free and wind up trying to make their buck up front because people just aren’t buying the products advertised. Others earn their keep by getting visitors to at least click on an ad. But do they? Too many internet users are like me, I suspect. I will not pay to toss around ideas and I do not buy what others tell me I need. Cheap? Ok. C'mon, rabid consumerism just isn’t sustainable. So I decide for myself what I need, thanks. I have only ever paid for one site: enchantedlearning.com. It’s a nominal fee to access a plethora of educational materials that would cost substantially more in a trendy education store. It was a very worthwhile fee in other words, and I paid it gladly.

So, as helpful as any chat site might be, I'm just not paying for one. I will bring a carrot to the soup, a nugget of what I have learned, I will bring something to share and take away a small bowl of soup, but I will not pay for the privilege. I have been casting around, looking for art sites and have found a group of quilling artists I can relate to, as well as other ways to keep in touch with others, while leaving myself enough time to pursue improved health, my writing, my art, my projects, my life. And if I have to go back to hiding inside my humble home because everyone wants money, I guess I can always dust off my library card ~ a less personal form of community. I have something to give while I’m on here, but it isn’t money. Here’s a valid question to ponder: if every one of those villagers makes their own soup and is trying to sell it door-to-door, who’s going to do the buying?

Mmmmmm.... good soup. Please pass the salt.

True Human Beauty and Cliches

I was much younger and living in what seems now like another lifetime, when I learned the truth about human beauty. There are no pictures with this blog post, because I'm going to try to paint you a word picture, or two:

The students in the photographic college where I worked had been given an assignment to use their cameras to create an artistic nude. The resulting photos were used to construct a mid-term art show. I took the time to go see what the students had created.

Of course, there was photo after photo of pretty girls on the wall. There were some interesting poses, some partial nudes where the human body was made to look like some sort of landscape. Some of these were inspired and very artistic. Then, there amongst the pretty, young, mostly white women, was this older, very overweight, black woman, photographed in a frontal pose, sitting on the floor, leaning on one hand, her huge breasts hanging low like large sacks of dried peas. At first I was perplexed by the student's choice of model. She seemed incongruous amid all the pretty girls.

Then it clicked. Of course she was going to stand out ~ that was at least part of the idea. All the other photos could well have been of the same model for all I was aware. This photo was certainly going to get more attention than the others. It's the one that made me look again. And when I did, I saw something quite unexpected that I hadn't noticed at first glance ~ her eyes. This woman's eyes shone from the photo. They were so expressive, revealing her very life ~ her hardships and triumphs, her sorrows and joys, her hard work, her disappointments and heartbreaks, and the depth of love in her soul. It was all there in that photograph, and in that moment, I suddenly realized what human beauty was really all about. It had nothing to do with the pretty girls. True beauty is all about what is inside us. It was a lesson that certainly helped shape my view of life over the years.

This brings me to what I've learned about cliches. We hear them when we are young until we become quite bored with them. We yawn or wave a dismissive hand when someone speaks them. Calling something cliched is not intended as a compliment. When pondering this lesson about human beauty later, that cliche about beauty being only skin deep seemed limited and misguided forever after. Another about the eyes being windows to the soul took on fresh and profound meaning for me. I realized that many cliches became cliches to begin with because they contain a glimmer of truth, or at least something to make us think. It isn't enough to hear them. One must understand a few things about life before they have much meaning. If there was anything cliched in a bad way about that student art show, it was all the pretty girls. Regardless of the pose, the use of pretty models was merely predictable.

This happened 30 years ago, and now when I look at how our society has developed, I'm seeing this shallow rendition of skin-deep beauty take up more and more of our consciousness, with ads enticing us to hang on tenaciously to our youth by getting our breasts lifted or our kissers fixed, or "news" about what this beautiful person is doing, and which beautiful stars split up or got caught high/drunk/raving/cheating ~ all of this "news" taking the place of world events on our news channels. The world, far from becoming more beautiful, is becoming increasingly shallow, with the true beauty of humanity buried deeper and deeper in human tragedy, such as earthquakes, hurricanes and other hardships that scarcely interrupt news of who's been put in rehab lately. It makes me feel grateful, and privileged, for having even seen that photograph by an inspired young student. I never even thanked him or her for the lesson in beauty. So, if you're out there, thank you. When I got up this morning, I peeled off my jammy shirt, threw it into the laundry and walked into the bathroom naked. There in the mirror was an older woman, her breasts hanging low like sacks of dried peas.... but in her eyes, a life very much lived. I might have missed that and felt sorry myself, but for that photograph so long ago. Thanks again.