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The Incredible Journey of a Water Sprite with Roots …an Excerpt

…on his mission to discover Cyclical Truths as a children’s story for all ages who care about Earth’s Ecosystems


Meet the Water Sprite and Water Spirit who admire his unique qualities as he prepares for his mission of ecological discoveries

“Very good, and not to be used without just cause for you have only three chances at encystment; after that, you will be a permanent dried-up piece of dust. Do you have any questions before I slip back into the ocean for my well-deserved rest?”

“I can’t remember what I’m called, and it seems to be respectable, one must have an exterior label,” I say.

“You are brand new, why not pick your own name,” the spirit smiled with his green speckled lips.

Ah ha, I’m thinking, such a rare opportunity to name oneself, as my brain ripples through a set of recollected nominal factors: Leo, Bizon, Theo-clid, Nefarattiti, Julius, Sulfate, Sulfite, Sulfer-amarus, Brontosaurus, but none seem overly appropriate and all I can say is,

“But I’ve been out of circulation so long. I don’t know what’s acceptable today, and I do want to be acceptable and set a good impression with everyone I meet.”

The spirit laughs the sound of gentle surf.

“Call yourself Corddo-mont the Sixteen-Hundred-Billionth, Corddo-mont the Life-Giver and Earth-Sustainer. Call yourself Cordd for short, easily pronounced, and hopefully, given credit wherever you go.”

I’m highly pleased with my new name; and now, it is Corddo-mont the Sixteen-Hundred-Billionth, the Variable, the Life-Giver, the Earth Sustainer who speaks solemnly,

“I’m ready to take my journey, face any encounter, and fix any problem, at your command, sir.”

“My dear Cordd, your youth is simple to hear. To travel a journey without problems is not to have learned anything from your experiences, and it would have been better not to have begun but remain closeted within your mother’s depths. To travel up and down, down in despair, high on happiness is to feel full appreciation of total comprehension. To overcome a problem, to find a solution to something difficult, to gain something good from that which seems unworthy, that is the completion of a cycle. This comes as close to success as I know it. And best, appreciate all things and beings; appreciate the significance of balance in nature, where even the opposite organisms can interact to create an efficient, harmonious community. Most importantly, therein you will find the existence of Cyclical Truths.”

He entwines his snake-like arms around me.

“My dearest water sprite, my dear Cordd, on your tiny shoulders rests a valuable mission in the pursuit of Cyclical Truths. Let their significance sink upon the Earth like a spring-time shower.”

His clouded eyes near the depth of his heart seem to penetrate through me, leaving me shaking and frighteningly uncertain of what I had to do. But there is no time left for further questionings, for he breathes a long quivering sigh.

“I’m so weary and need so badly to rest. Farewell, good luck, until we meet again, long live the Cyclical Truths.”

He disengages himself from me, wavers upward and slowly slides into the foam along the ocean’s edge. He slips in without a noticeable murmur into the ripples, only the tangled mass of his beard floats along the surface like glittering sea grass for a considerable distance reflecting beads of sunrays.

I feel a sadness as if something irreplaceable had just passed away, but it is a momentary sadness; for one of the facts I had learned well before is that matter never disappears … it may fade, change, reconvert into another form of energy or even make a compound, but the spirit always remains as long as anyone wants or needs to think about it.

Anyway, a new and exciting journey lay ahead of me; even though I feel a little burdened by the heavy task set before me, I soon dismiss its seriousness as the common seriousness of older types and not to affect the enthusiasm I feel in the pursuit of adventure.

It is obvious that travel by land would be near-impossible for a drop of a water sprite, and after some navigation around the sand, seashells and pebbles I get close enough to my mother’s fingers to curl around me and carry me out on her bounteous body again.

But the sun is hot and getting hotter and I feel my body becoming lighter and lighter as more water molecules evaporate around me. Suddenly, there is a quick fling of a high wave into the atmosphere, and, once more, I find myself air bound.

This time I use my arms and legs to greater advantage to steer a course through a given boundlessness. Ahh, this is sweet self-knowledge that I am already learning and getting smarter by the hour.

Higher and higher I am pulled, more by the sun’s powerful heat as eddies of air rise and swirl as if from a giant sea-kettle. Higher and higher, I fly until my mother’s ever-reaching arms are as wrinkles in an endless span. Higher and higher, until I think, half-musingly, that maybe I would become the first water sprite in space…the mighty Space Sprite, the Sixteen Hundred Billionth. But then gradually the sun’s rays begin to lessen their radiation as they sink beneath their zenith; and by late afternoon, I find myself plotting a fairly straight and level course, still in a northerly direction, still over the ocean.

With my maneuvering skills under better control, I look around at my travelling companions many steeped in steam. They are countless air molecules mainly nitrogen, some hydrogen, oxygen and carbon dioxide as well as the occasional helium or argon, the difference being in the density of their coloring … hydrogen being almost transparent and oxygen more shaded. There are numerous water droplets, but none that seem to contain the spark of life I have. I collide with one, quite by accident I assure you, and am most refreshed by a cool shower, for my outer cells are feeling tight from the dryness of air travel.

As dusk lowers its dark curtain, I notice the water molecules grouping together as if for warmth; some becoming quite large enough to drown me if I was to dive into them. In the distance ominous-looking clouds are lumping and burgeoning as more unions of water molecules merge together; groups I steer away from to avoid unstable growth.

But dusk draws its curtains shut, the light disappears, and I am semi-blind and need a place to rest. By fortune, I am almost hit by a mud-splatter, simply bits of dust stuck together; over which I drape myself. The bed is clammy, sticky and fanned by a sharply cold wind. I have no covering except the memory of the deep-down peaceful blackness of my mother that was all-embracing and all-abiding, close and good. My first night from home, I feel very alone, sad and miserable indeed. I admit I even think of crying, but think better; the air is moist enough and my bed may dissolve.

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