Amma's blog: "I Am"

Mama took long drinks from the trough of fresh water the farmer's young son had brought, bucket full by bucket full, from the hand pump that stood just outside the barnyard. She appreciated the effort the boy had to put into bringing water from below the ground - she could faintly smell it there - and up and out into the wooden bucket.

The farmer and his large family took good care of all of the animals in their barnyard, and Mama was happy she could give them milk to nourish them in return. The sound of coughing brought her head up, droplets of cool water danced on the air and caught the rays of the summer sun.

She turned from the water trough and watched her son, not as small as he had been, but still so young and innocent, standing near the fence with his head down and his four little hooves splayed out while he spit shreds of something from out of his mouth and onto the warm ground. Calmly she walked to him and nuzzled his side while he continued to cough and spit out what appeared to be colorful pieces of paper.

When the worst of it was over and he stood blinking in confusion at what lay before his feet, Mama quietly said, "Come with me, my beloved, you need to drink some of the clean fresh water the farmer's son has so kindly brought for just such an occasion."

The little goat followed his Mama with just an extra little cough or two. The water was so sweet and it took the bad taste from out of his mouth. He drank until his tummy was full. When he looked back up at his Mama he burped and she laughed.

She licked the droplets that clung to his cheek, "Tell me what you ate that made you add such sounds to the beautiful songs of the birds, my beloved."

"It was just a flower, Mama!" He coughed and burped one more time. "It was a beautiful clover, just like the one the honey bee was visiting when you told me about being a family!"

Mama nodded thoughtfully. "Was it really like the one in the field, my beloved, are you sure?"

The little goat scuffed his hoof and looked up into the sky, "It looked the same, Mama, even more beautiful than the one in the field." He tilted his head and watched the fluffy white clouds fly high above his head. Mama tickled him under his chin with a breath. He giggled and rolled on his back, kicking his feet. Mama smiled.

"Have you seen the farmer's wife moving things out of the farmhouse and giving them to the neighbors that stop by?" The little goat nodded. "Well sometimes human beings take pictures of their favorite things and put them on their walls. A picture is just a piece of paper with what looks like their favorite thing, but is not real at all. I have heard of many strange things our farm family does from the field mice that creep in to take a crumb or two that lands on the floor."

The little goat loved his Mama so much, she always told stories that made him want to hear more. "So the clover I ate was just a picture, and not real?" He wanted his Mama to know that he listened very carefully when she spoke.

"That is exactly right, my beloved. The farmer's wife is passing on things that have made her smile, and is giving them to the other human beings so that they might smile too. The wind must have blown the picture of the clover out of a box and into the barnyard."

She looked at the place where the shreds of the picture were, and saw that the small birds that filled the air with such sweet music were picking them up in their beaks and flying off to put them in their nests.

"You must remember that not everything is as it seems, my beloved, and do not just chew on anything. It is part of your heritage to do just that, and so you must learn to think first." She filled her mouth with the gift of water from the farmer's son. The little goat leaned against her solid side and sighed happily.

"I am so glad that you are real, Mama."