posted on Sep, 6 2011 @ 05:30 PM
I want to tell you a story. It is not anything spectacular. It may not even belong here because it is not about conspiracies, UFOs, magic, survival,
or other ATS type things; yet it may be a little about all those things.
While looking for something that I knew I had, but had boxed away a long time ago, I found a box filled with old glasses. I had put them away when the
children were little and were prone to dropping anything breakable that found itself in their tiny hands. For their safety (glass shards travel mighty
distances and their recovery almost always involves pain, blood and tears) I boxed up all the glassware and out came the paper and plastic.
I had forgotten the boxes of glassware I had put aside, and decided that it would be enjoyable to have some of my more favorite glasses back in use
again. I don’t know why, but some things just taste better when imbibed from glass rather than paper or plastic. It is all in the mind of course
which soon proved itself to be very true.
My young nephew had a short school day recently. I had the pleasure of keeping him out of mischief until his mother was able to pick him up after
work. In the mean time I had to provide him with a snack to hold him over until dinner and he agreed to a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with milk.
Since he was now the ripe old age of seven, I thought that he was old enough and hopefully mature enough to enjoy a beverage from real glass. I was
surprised when he arrived at the table after washing his hands with such a look of befuddlement on his face.
He asked me, “Auntie what is that?” I was a bit taken aback. I couldn’t believe that he did not know what a glass was. I said to him, “Zack,
that is a glass.” “Haven’t you ever seen a glass before?” I had to laugh when he replied, “Yes Auntie, but what is in it?” I told him
that it was milk. This brought about that same look of puzzlement that children have mastered, with that special turn of the lip and brow.
“Auntie?" "What kind of milk is it?” Then it became clear to me. He was seeing the milk through the glass. Since the glass was green, he thought
the milk was also green. Of course I laughed and this made it even an odder moment for my nephew because he did not see the humor in my laughing at
him for not knowing where green milk came from. After all he had his pride and he was all of seven years old.
I decided to see how far I could take this moment, so I told him to taste it and tell me where he thought it may come from. He was very hesitant but
he was watching me drink mine and I made it look like it was pure ambrosia. He still had not gotten any closer to the table so I took the straw from
his glass and put it into mine. I held out my glass to him making sure my hand covered the top and told him to take a sip. He did. “So?”, I asked
him. “What does it taste like?” He didn’t surprise me when he said, “I don’t know.” “It kinda taste like real milk but I know that it is
something else.” I asked him why did he think it was something else. He told me because it was green.
I have thought a lot about our lunch since it happened. I find myself asking how much of what I “think” or what I “believe” is true. How much
of what I think I see dictates what I accept as truth. I admit that it has led me to moments of self reflection and some things are leaning closer to
the edge of doubt.
I now run all new information through the milk glass filter. I am hoping that this will in some way help me remember that things are not always how
they look or are presented and that even when taken in without interference that it may still be contaminated by what I have already “thought” to