The Story of the Storyteller’s Attar: Preface

I want to tell you the story of a boy… the boy who met a ladybug in the garden…

You see, the boy stood back, watching this ladybug cry and cry. She landed on a petal and fell asleep. And in her dream state the boy saw. The boy saw how the plants made medicines just for the ladybug – and when she awoke she flew on.

Curious the boy approached the flower… and nothing. Not a budge, not a twitch, it looked like they even stopped swaying in the wind… Everything shut down when he came into the garden – but he knew what he saw. He sat and sat, and nothing happened. He got bored and started meandering around… and that’s when he saw her again – the lady bug. Happy this time – radiant – something had changed. They found themselves in the same meadow – and there was a sense of familiarity.

The boy and the bug spent many years together – the ladybug flying, the boy walking, the two locked in the embrace of existence.

But then she got sick… And the ladybug started to die… And they both denied it at first – but it got worse. And eventually the ladybug was gone. The boy lost his friend.

So he started to travel again – holding with him the years of shared knowledge, shared experience – the memories cherished. He found his way to more death, more destruction. He found his way to the bottom of our safety net – to see who was there and why. And while he traveled he met some new companions. People interested in what he and Andrea had been doing – the thousands of hours together, the touch, the talk, the presence.

There were so many questions left unanswered, but the boy found himself in a new garden – one with the familiarity of the old – but something different.

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