Friday, 27 February 2009
He looked over the world since the time of Zeus. He came from a herd of goats. The other goats in the herd always stayed clear of him, fearing his insights and thoughts on life. There was an aura around him which emanated strength and wisdom far beyond his years.
Billy lived on the foothills of Olympus. He grew tired of the tribe's movements and rituals and decided to explore his surroundings one day, and disappeared from the herd. Nobody really noticed that he was gone, seeing as most of the others let him be. Naturally, the goat looked up to the mountain...its peak was hidden by a ring of clouds. Wondering what lies in the abyss, he started his climb.
It was many months before he reached the top. Food was scarce and there was not much water, except on the days it rained. Billy was exhausted but what kept him going was his determination. He knew that once he would reach his destination, he would be able to look across the land and learn about where he would go next. What was waiting for him on the peak, he would have never expected.
A grand palace was before him. He was welcomed by green pastures and gardens. There were people there - not just any, but the Gods; myths that the villagers and cities worshiped. Zeus himself was sitting in the grass throwing bolts of lightning at a far away target to satisfy his boredom when Billy arrived, curious, and sat by his side. Surprised, Zeus asked his name. Billy replied in his native tongue at first, but with a snap of Zeus' fingers, the goat replied, "I am Billy. I live on the foothills below, and wanted to learn more, so I traveled here."
Amazed, Zeus decided to talk to him about the world below, telling him about the way the Earth around him worked and how the toil of man has taken nature as its prisoner.
It was a few years Billy had been gone from the herd, but when he had all his questions answered by Zeus, it was time for him to return. Before leaving, however, Zeus had colored him with beautiful fluorescent light, and had allowed Billy to keep his ability to speak in the God's language.
Billy returned down the mountain, this time, with ease. To his amazement, the land around him turned itself to a lush paradise wherever he tread. His herd had not recognized him upon his return, but they welcomed his gift and called him Shaman.
One night, as Shaman Billy looked to the stars, hunters captured him. There was no fight in him, he was outnumbered. The hunters had witnessed the power of Shaman from their village - where the foothills were barren, they were now thriving with nature. Their greed made them come to the source and they all wanted a piece of that power.
Sadly, Shaman Billy was reduced to nothing more than a meal for the villagers. His power was never transferred. His head, still brightly colored hangs on a plaque.
Generations and civilizations had come and gone. The plaque was sold and bought and handed down for centuries. All the while, Shaman's silent eyes studied the world around him. Shaman knows now that Zeus was right. He has seen the past and knows the future. Legend tells that on certain nights, when the light is right, his aura glows more powerfully than it did on Olympus, and that the most beautiful truth escapes his lips in the form of a rainbow-colored waterfall.