The Nature of Thinngs (Part One of Three)

A Story by Paris Hlad

The Nature of Things

As Understood and Explained

By Three Charming Insects

(The First Decoration)

I was born to speak on a poet’s behalf, for a lady has written:

He is that handsome rebel of the hive

Whose heart is like the lovesome days of spring,

When daffodils awake and bloodroots bloom,

And all-new creatures in life’s chorus sing!

Bonjour! I am Andre De Foi,[1] the “handsome rebel” of the lines above, and it is my pleasure to present Paris Osowski’s way of thinking about life. The poet believes that I will prove to be a better him, and more than a gracious compliment to me, it is also a fait accompli, since what an artist creates is often similar to what he originally imagines. Should you visualize me, you will be mine, as I am all about me. And although many say they do not like that attribute in others, that is true only when it is exercised by the inarticulate and the physically unattractive. Obviously, I am neither, and I think you will find me to be a character that fairly glistens with trenchant insight into another’s take on the nature of existence and his philosophie de la vie. Also, I have a certain flair for making personal beliefs fun to learn about without provoking a raised eyebrow or sigh of disapproval. I have been compared to that kind of charming tour guide who is himself the highlight of a tour.

Yet, the void left in the wake of any serious literary effort is greater than the words that fill its pages, and detractors will say that my only real function is to occupy the perplexing blank space you might otherwise encounter in this book. But this cannot be so, for already I have begun to fill that void with particulars that may provide insight into the mind of the great Paris Osowski. Were it not so, you would not at this point know that the poet thinks so highly of his inventions that he favors their voice, and possibly even their existence, to his own.

But only a moment ago, I was a miraculous figment, taking form in a poet’s mind. I could not write a line or think a thought, as I was not yet a part of the physical world. But now that I am a perceptible ink that imbues the measurable dimensions of a page, I am free to share the fruit of Paris Osowski’s rich ontological garden[2] - And clearly, I am qualified in that regard, for although I am him, and therefore arguably the primary authority on him, I am also not him, and therefore, may speak of him with some degree of detachment and objectivity. But I am also a creature you have allowed to step into your personal universe and speak as candidly as I choose about … Well, about anything, really - No longer a figment that exists in Paris Osowski’s mind, but a being that has taken on a much different meaning by existing exclusively, and perhaps forever, in yours. That said, we are free to proceed with our tour.

Where Osowski’s Garden is concerned, there are only two kinds of insects that matter, the confetti bee, and the common fluke - The former being an idealistic and decidedly wistful soul who believes that his life has meaning, and the latter being a more pragmatic individual who believes only in things that may be physically experienced. Where the bee is suspicious, even fearful of the physical world, the fluke enthusiastically participates in the destructive activities of his overlord, Conqueror Worm. Notably, these creatures share similar biology and may even claim the same family members, but they are as different as the air we breathe and the dust to which all living things are fated to return. Neither looks nor wit, station nor pedigree count in that regard. Only the Gardener’s intentions and her original designs matter. Everything else is camouflage or an imposter’s sleight of hand.

Now, despite the contributory role the common fluke plays in bringing about the Worm’s mortiferous objectives, he does so unwittingly and cannot reasonably be faulted for his behavior, as he is what he is and can do only those things that he is capable of doing. Where the spiritual universe is concerned, he is the proverbial termite in a joist, in that he is oblivious to the effects his activities have upon the structure that surrounds him. Yes, it is true that some common flukes pursue their business with rancor or even religious or political zeal, but they are few, to be sure, and according to the best thinking, these individuals may not be common flukes at all.

[1] Paris said he got the inspiration for Andre De Foi while observing the misfortunes of a bumblebee imprisoned in a mason jar. There, the unfortunate insect grew pensive and emotionally distraught. However, when he was inexplicably released, he rushed valiantly into his captor’s forehead, before tumbling helplessly to the ground. Unable to fly, he continued on foot, encountering other problems along the way - Not the least of which was an inability to move in a straight line as he traversed a muddy flower bed. Later, he became stuck on the syrupy end of a discarded popsicle stick. To Paris, the bee’s mishaps provided a metaphor for the way a dreamer experiences physical reality: He is doomed to suffer and ultimately marooned in the mysterious sweetness that seems to crop up out of nowhere.

[2]Andre is referring to the poet’s take on the meaning of his life, not the formal and highly complicated branch of metaphysics that deals with the nature of being.