The Congress of Animals

The animals gathered where a great river bled into the sea. They came from land, sea and sky to make known their complaints and damages, and to plan. From puddle and pond, meadow and mountain, desert and forest, they moved in vast streams and eddies to their meeting place at the edge of a great ocean. One by one, two by two, many by many, the congress of creatures grew until their numbers stretched further than even the sharpest soaring eye could see.
Even so, they were less than before. Certain areas once covered with life were now empty, holes in a vast unraveling quilt. Ragged but still beautiful, this was Wild Earth, or WEarth.
Madame Lion, President of Wearth Cycle CCCXCVI, stood quietly on a craggy boulder rising above the river, a place of honor known as the Speaker’s Rock. From atop this ancient monolith of granite and quartz, she watched the animals merge and spread below her like a vast living carpet. From above, the yellow Sun poured blessings downward, lighting up the creatures of WEarth like so many shining jewels and transforming the lioness’s tawny fur into gleaming gold.

In the glow of Sun’s rays, Madame Lion meditated on the tasks ahead which must be met with strength, fortitude, courage--attributes she knew to be her strong suits. But she also knew of others in her position, as strong and brave as she (or nearly), who had failed to fulfill their responsibilities. One need only think of Saber-Tooth Tiger’s cycle as President to understand what another such failure might mean to the animals--quite possibly a final disastrous rending of the weave of WEarth...a further fragmenting...with all the beautiful designs and complex patterns disintegrating into bits of dust blown about by Sister Winds...

An innate sense of discipline kept the President from letting loose the deep lionic sigh that welled within and threatened to grow into a great howling roar--instead, she gave herself over to the warm benediction of a benevolent Sun and turned her thoughts to executive duties. Some time ago, she had decided to begin the Meeting with the Silence Ceremony, something a lesser President, fearful of damages if done poorly, might have hesitated to invoke. But the daunting problems facing WEarth demanded bold moves, and Madame Lion was nothing if not bold.

She herself had never participated in the Silence Rituals nor even seen them performed. But by tapping into the WEarth Reservoir of Knowledge (the WROK), that vast inner resource common to all Wild animals where all experience is coded, collected and stored, she had found the source of the Silence Ceremony.
And there she had learned, not without difficulty, the following information:

In the Beginning there was Silence.
The Center, Silence; Silence, the Center.
Later, when Time began its run, Silence retreated, spiraling away beyond temporal perimeters, out of reach of the din of Time and his kin. But protocols were laid down regarding a way to invoke Silence again, to reconnect Time-bound souls to the Center, if desired, with invocations requiring ego suspension, mutual trust and absolute (if momentary) harmonic blending of desire. Also, all those taking part in the rituals must have knowledge (instinctual or learned) of dimensional merging, plus at least a Level Two understanding of paradox.

The latter skill is a birthright of all Wild animals but not necessarily of Domesticates, many of whom long ago lost the ability to tell a paradox from a hole in the ground. Thus, while the Silence Ceremony used to be performed by all living creatures; now it is done almost entirely by Wilds. The rituals are extremely rare, and the more rare, the more dangerous--a strong, competent leader is needed to prevent potential disaster.

Madame Lion had prepared well for this moment. Yet she felt a small frisson of...what was it...fear? No, not fear...fear had no hold in the lion mind...but something else--a question, perhaps.

Could she, at the crucial moment, do what needed to be done?
The warm cooperation of Sun, never to be counted on, was a sign to her that the ceremony would succeed, and maybe, just maybe, all would be well. Ordinarily, the activities of the Powers--Sun, Moon, Wind, Water, and Fire--lie well outside the animals’ purview. Indeed, most creatures of flesh, bone and otherwise have learned to take what comes and adapt accordingly. The animals try to plan WEarth meetings for relatively quiet times--the better to hear themselves think--but they can never be sure what the concurrent Power agenda will be.

Against her better judgment, the lioness thought if only...if only she could be sure of Sun’s continued cooperation, perhaps the hazardous Silence Ceremony could be avoided altogether...

Maybe, she mused in a moment of optimism, it will be a calm cycle with the Sister Winds fussing over Sun...Sun herself more than happy to join in the game...wind-fingers long and graceful, playing dress-up, draping their golden-girl in endless combinations of veils, shawls, morning dresses, evening gowns...oh, maybe a few breezy tiffs...no, no, dear...that silver lace won’t do...try it in pink...ummm...what about a bit of salmon piping on that lavender collar...Oh, that’s IT! Beautiful! Perfect! No, wait...we need some rose striping on that blue underskirt...

Oh, what was she thinking? Illusions burst like bright bubbles as the lioness shook off her idle daydreams, mindful that relying on the Powers is like trusting a river to stop its flow, like wishing for rain! Flights of fancy gave way to pragmatism as she pondered over the many matters of profound importance that had developed during the the current WEarth Cycle--issues far too critical to be cast aside by a petulant Sun, impatient with one too many wispy bits of frou-frou hanging about her shoulders, shrugging off Sister Wind’s clinging fingers to flaunt her golden body bare as the day she was born, blazing round and naked and free in the blue embrace of Brother Sky, not caring a whit for the Winds’ bitter fits of pique...
...and then...the Sisters angry, weeping, weaving dark warrier-garb instead of bright sunset-gowns, calling clouds to clot in swirling knots of fire-breathing dragon-rage, roaring, racing, chasing Brother Sky up and up and up, on and on and on, until finally, finally, Sun, tired of her tantrum, tilts a shining eye earthward to blink a great curving wink at the world, flirting in rainbow colors, chasing away the the blues, the grays, deigning to let the newly appeased Sisters grace her golden shoulders once again with a shimmery boa--white, with peach undertones, no, no, why not shot with silver...oh, silver, silver, always silver...why not a touch of pink this time...

Well! Even without all this Sturm und Drang to disturb WEarth meetings, the wise Lioness knew that merely a Cloud Carnival, or a simple game of Shake-Shake-Quake, or a short session of Boom-a-Laka-Boom could cause no end of problems. Indeed, from her high perch she saw dark clouds whipping and sparks flying over the distant sea...Wind and Water playing another round of Bolts and Ladders...oh yes, she mused, this is the beauty of the Silence Ceremony, and why it is so necessary--it will stop the infernal, eternal Power-Games long enough for the animals to take care of business!
Or so she hoped...

In any case, the Silence Ceremony must be done, and done perfectly.
But the question remained.
Could she do it?
Few in the massing crowd saw a tiny plash of doubt rippling through her topaz gaze--a squint, a blink, and it was gone.
No lesser President, Madame Lion was well-versed in animal protocol, and she was ready.