The Tale of the Thurinate Copyright 1997 by Dave Laird "Today I am going to find some excitement", muttered a young member of The Thurinate pausing beside an old farm road. He was talking, of course, to several fellow members of his species who were gathered invisibly by the side of the road for what amounted to the equivalent to a coffee klatch in their culture. As one of the most agile, entities or spirits in our universe that are totally invisible to mankind, members of the Thurinate often assume the mind or form of any animate or inantimate object they wish. They do this often, for assuming the mind of living things is the only method they know of enjoying all the senses that mankind takes for granted. "Go ahead!" muttered one of The Learned Elders testily. "So much energy spent on locating excitement is vexatious to your maturity." The elder Thurinate glared at the shimmering presence of his younger peer, then growled, "Go ahead, then. Be gone with you." The younger Thurinate quickly became one with a nearby ruby-throated lark, placidly warbling to the dawn atop an old rustic rail fence post. The free-running youthful spirit remained for awhile in the mind of the glorious meadowlark, rejoicing with each burst of song, each note crystal-clear and perfect, cascading down from atop the fence post across the splendor of the fields at dawn. Unseen, unbidden, the Thurinate felt each note of the lark's ever-changing song, took great delight since to him, the song was his own creation. Each burst of boundless joy was his to savor as the sun rose higher and higher in the morning sky. He was one with life, and life was one within him, and his song rang everywhere across the gently sloping meadow. To one side, there was a dry flat spot that during the spring and occasionally during a rainy autumn day, there was a tiny giggling brook, but now, in the heat of an arid August afternoon, it was still and as sere as the rest of the landscape as far as the Thurinate could see. There was no one to witness the grandeur the meadowlark's song. Nothing moved beneath the mindless blue of the firmament overhead to notice or otherwise see the vain and clever Thurinate posing as a meadowlark welcoming the new day. "This is much too boring here," the Thurinate thought to itself. "There is no motion, no movement, no sound to break the silence, save the bird whose mind I now occupy. There is no laughter, no tears, no one sniffling into a handkerchief, no old women talking about their children, no young women talking about their men. Where has the joy, the excitement of life all gotten to?" Moments later the Thurinate jumped with lightning rapidity to the miniscule and simple mind of a grumpy old bullfrog sitting several miles away in a tiny pool of muddy water. Ribbit, went the frog, plainly aggravated that in the summer heat, his kingdom, the very pond where hundreds of his ancestors before him had lived, mated and died was slowly but surely decreasing in size. Lately it had become so hot in the late afternoon, that it was nearly impossible to find a cool place to sit, save for a few places along the bank in the mud. The Thurinate laughed at the discomfiture of the old frog, and seconds jumped again into the mind of a young foal trailing down the meadow sharply behind its mother. "Oh, wheee" went the small pony, and went bolting down the open lane of the meadow, kicking its heels high into the air, prancing on the tips of its shiny new hooves. The Thurinate, wanting nothing more than to chase madly down the lush grass, to giggle as time and time again, it kicked its tiny hooves upward toward the sky again. "Running is such fun," the Thurinate thought, and instantly the young, unwary pony began to run even faster, without regard for the stern warning from its mother. "Let's go see what's at the other end of the meadow, shall we?" the Thurinate asked, putting the question in the mind of the young equine as instantly as it was conceived. "Balls with what your dowdy old frump of a mother says about the wolves, the world is ours, let's go see it!" Off they ran, the unsuspecting pony still well shy of his first year, and the Thurinate frolicking together as One, gamboling down the meadow. The blue bells, the dandelions and the alfalfa of the upper meadow gave way to the thickets and the woods of the downside of the meadow, which was something new to the pony, since his mother never let him travel this far, even in daylight. In fact, they might still be running joyously now, were it not for the pony's mother. She was a properly responsible old mare of good lineage who had already raised several other colts in her life. She was not about to abrogate her responsibility for any reason. As the colt continue to run toward the unseen dangers of the woods, suddenly she ran up beside her errant colt, her nostrils flaring, her eyes red-rimmed with anger, and nipped him hard once on the shoulder. "I think the jig is up my friend," the Thurinate thought as the pony suddenly stopped, its bony sides heaving from its exertion. "Offhand, I would say you are in trouble. Thanks for the ride." Instantly the Thurinate rippled forth from the pony, and in rapid-fire sequence, visited the minds of a water snake feeling its way through the mud and water beside an old horse trough in a farmer's yard, a large yellow tom cat who, having recently dispassionately caught and killed a field mouse, who was only interested in sex, and a large Chester white hog. The Thurinate nearly caused an insurrection of sorts when he entered the mind of the portly old sow, her teats dragging in the mud in the pig sty. At the moment of his arrival, the pig was bitterly observing the long waiting line at the watering trough. Under the careful tutelage of the Thurinate, instead of placidly waiting in line as any proper hog would, batting her silky white eyelashes in the sun, she began violently pushing those in front of her aside, without so much as an apology. "You see?" the Thurinate observed, laughing from within the deepest recesses of the portly porker's mind. "All you have to do is push a little harder and you'll get there first. See how simple it is? And I thought you pigs were smart animals, but you mean to tell me you haven t figured that out yet?" Suddenly there was the old boar who, overhearing the commotion at the water trough, had scuttled around the corner of the yard to better see what was going on. "Ho there, Elizi," he imperiously commanded, shoving her violently aside with his shoulder. "What are you about, here? You know better than to try and push your way into line. Now mind your self." The Thurinate, looking through the pink eyes of the old sow, listening to the harsh warning from the old boar who was clearly two hands taller and wider than the old sow, decided once more that it was time to find another place to visit, and with a cheerful, "Gee, I hope you get a drink sometime today!" , bolted from the old pig's mind into a nearby groundhog standing alertly beside its underground warren, sniffing the air, clearly alarmed. Once firmly inside the mind of the rodent, the Thurinate saw what he was shaking with alarm. In fact, so consumed with trepidation and horror was the tiny field creature, that no amount of mental rapport, no quick mental sleight of hand could deter him from being scared, for there, advancing across the field in a steady line was a huge wall of fire, running madly through the dry grasses. Just as the ground hog dove for its tunnel, the Thurinate transferred instantly to the living, breathing fire and it is there he nearly met his mental match. For the fire had a elemental mind, one set on dispassionately and methodically the business of destruction. The Thurinate, sensing a change in the morning breeze, pointed out an advantageous tack to take, and instantly the fire heeled over, taking good advantage of the fresh breeze, burning wilder and higher than ever before. Each time the wind made any small change in its direction, the Thurinate was there, coaxing the flames onward. On and on the fire ran, its teeth now firmly into the wind, with the Thurinate screaming with delight, hopping up and down in his excitement, as together they leapt over fences, consumed an entire wheat field in one unfastidious gulp, gathering more power by the hour. The Thurinate fairly chortled when the living wall of flame, its chest now boasting and proud, jumped a creek in one swoop, sending a family out on an impromptu picnic scurrying for safety. "Now THIS is excitement!" the Thurinate howled with glee. "Let's go and go until there's nothing left to burn! Let's toast everything. Can t you imagine an entire world consumed with fire? Migod the passion of it all! The limitless destruction we can cause. Let s create some REAL EXCITEMENT!!!" However, even the best of circumstances come to an end, and in the late forenoon, the wind that had lent so much authority to the fire, suddenly dissipated in the early afternoon, and the volunteer firemen finally began to gain the upper hand on the pesky fire which had already consumed over 255 acres of land. Once more the Thurinate bolted from his host, into the mind of a fireman sitting with several of his mates on a log on the ground. Pain, sadness, frustration and a terrible sense of loss assailed the Thurinate from all sides, as the fireman sat disconsolately, his back to the only remaining standing wall of what once had been a beautiful hand-built barn, his lungs aching deep inside from smoke inhalation. The Thurinate began to feel a different form of excitement from anything he had ever known. "We won, didn t we? We beat that friggin fire although it had the wind at its back all the time." The Thurinate listened carefully as the fireman spoke to one of his peers, and as he dropped his half-melted helmet to the ground, he muttered, "We lost a few buildings along the way, but we don't have anything to feel sorry about. We saved the entire valley, and now we can go home with our heads held high, lads." The Thurinate was electrified, for in that moment, when the exhausted fireman was speaking of having beaten his adversary, the fire, there was a thrill, a titillation and wave after wave of excitement that consumed his spirit, and with it, the Thurinate. Quicker than you can spit, the Thurinate jumped into the mind of a young man on the other side of the valley who, taking advantage of circumstances, was joyously making love to his wife. Tenderness, mixed with passion and mature love swept over the Thurinate in endless waves. It was his first personal awareness of this thing, love, and he was still as the lovers whispered endearments after their satisfying lovemaking. He was stunned beyond words at the power of this emotion, love. It was the most exciting thing he had ever encountered in his young years. Much later in time, a century of our time, when the Thurinate met with some of the wisest members of his species in a far-off place in the galaxy, he dared to speak of his experiences of that afternoon. "Some of these creatures we call man achieve their greatest satisfaction in either the act of creation with a member of their opposite gender, by the acts of destruction or war, outrageous nationalism, worshipping an unseen god or else by coming together in a time of adversity. But making love is, by far, the most powerful way to achieve that which is intensely pleasurable. Men possess power equally for raising havoc and destruction, waging great wars and creating and living in love. Yet they spend so little time making love, so much time creating dissension and havoc. Why is this?" "That is why we have never revealed ourselves to them", his spiritual master replied, smiling gently on him, as only a Thurinate can smile. Then, in the stillness of deep space in the galaxy, their two spirits came together, and they were one.