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Tuesday, February 26, 2013

The Day of Mother Time and Father Nature

 




The Day of Mother Time and Father Nature

By Jesse Booth
Copyright 2012



The natural order of the earth­ includes fathers and mothers.  So it has been from the foundations of the universe.  But there was a time when time itself did not yet exist, and because of the resulting stillness, nature did not exist either.  If one natural law is somehow broken, others will most likely be broken as well.  But I’m jumping ahead of myself, for this tale begins when no natural law existed.
When a seed is planted, it does not instantly germinate and pop up from the ground, yielding fruit ripe for the picking.  Such an experience needs much help from nature.  Before a plant can produce anything, though, it needs time.
The world did not simply pop out of nowhere, sprouting plant and animal life.  The natural side of things, while important, could not happen until time existed.
As we all are living and breathing, and while you yourself are reading this very story, it is obvious that time does indeed exist.  Father Time created time.
So who is this “Father Time?”  He did not invent time. Father Time follows natural laws, which hints that he existed within nature somewhere else before his greatest task began.
Not much is known about his origins and exactly what kind of being he is, nor what he looks like.  But you have seen fragments of him.  The hands of your clock spinning slowly are his hands.  The alarm that screams at you every morning is but a whisper of a wake-up call (that you really ask for, no matter what side of the bed you wake up on).
            His wife is Mother Nature, who you see on a daily basis, but usually forget about.  Little is also known about her, but she is far less elusive than Father Time.
She is the sunrise in the morning and the sunset in the evening.  She is the brush of air parting your hair.  The slight drizzles from the sky are her tears, but they usually are followed by her rainbow smile.  The calm puffy-white clouds rolling slowly across the sky are her spas of relaxation.  The forests are her shrines; the deserts are her oases.  The oceans and lakes make up her heart; the rivers and streams are her arteries and veins.
But she has a mean streak.  Her mood swings are unpredictable most of the time.  Torrents of rain flood the ground, dark luminous clouds stretch over the land, great winds howl, and cold air bites.  No soul has lived on the planet without feeling some level of fear caused by Mother Nature.
Some days she gets downright out of control.  Amidst her tirades of anger, earthquakes rise up, causing ripples of damage everywhere.  Tidal waves swallow dry land.  Tornados rip and pull, then fling miscellaneous objects miles away.  Lightning and thunderstorms clash and boom in the sky, their hazardous fighting brilliantly illuminating the darkness in sudden bursts.
And she is a smoker: just take a look at her volcanoes!  Father Time has been trying to get her to quit for millenniums upon millenniums, but she cannot give them up.
While Mother Nature does have her mood swings, she usually stays reasonably calm.  Most importantly, she relies on Father Time in order to do her job.
Father Time is the greatest mathematician, physicist, and astrologer ever known.  He keeps the Earth spinning at just the right speed to allot for twenty-four hour days, sixty minute hours, and sixty second minutes.  And all of this is done at a perfect distance away from (or close to, depending on how you look at it) the sun, which provides the perfect balance for Mother Nature to keep life flourishing on the planet.
            So the world has been this way for millions of years, and so it should always be.  But one evening, as the world began to quiet down, they had an argument.
            “Father Time,” Mother Nature began, “though I could perform no task without your aid, I must state that at the end of the day I work harder than you.”
            “I beg your pardon?” he replied with an edge.