The Seeker's Dungeon

The Hip Woman

by Ana Daksina of Timeless Classics, The New Holocaust, and Success Inspirers World.

 

Long ago, passing a household nook
I chanced to happen on a little book
In a home that I was visiting

And since I had just then not anything
Claiming my precious time, I sat me there
To find out if its contents were as fair
As was its quite intriguing cover
(Because we cannot judge one by the other)

I found it entertaining, and as well
It had a measure of the truth to tell

For it was all about how youthful we
Decide which character we wish to be
As from out a childhood story told
Of dainty ladies and of heroes bold

Or perhaps a movie that we saw
With stern, resolute servants of the law
Against criminals who, though desperate
Were also handsome and sophisticate

Or then, again, we learned our teachers from
About explorers from safe houses come
To th’exotic and the risky shore
Where no explorer hath set foot before,

The independent minded scientist
Refusing to convention’s errors list,
Birth of an ultra-wealthy businessman
From the poor quarters where he first began

A gracious lady, or a shepherdess
Or humble sainthood strong in holiness;

And howsoever life may change us when
We grow up to be women and be men
Nothing can completely take away
The intimate decision made that day
Within one preteen moment of delight

Every so often it will come to light
For our entire future lifetime long
Like to a melody, a theme, a song

Which follows, growing with us as we grow
Complexities of adulthood to know,
Retreating gently whenever we fade
Away from inner promises we made
When we were ignorant, but also pure

Mayhap when we were more securely sure
Of what the right and what the wrong may be
In any situation that we’d see

And, the book went on, when we behave
As if we were those characters who brave
Steep odds ‘gainst which we willing strive
These are the moments we feel most alive

All this gave me afresh to contemplate
Those roles played in our lives by all the great
Works of art and fiction, and of rhyme
Echoing down the corridors of time
Unto our gazing eyes and list’ning ears
As doth affect us all throughout our years

Then in the middle of that volume, I
Discovered a delightful tale, all by
Itself — no explanation to portend
Its contents, nor comment append
And its conclusions, if there any were
Left unto the reader to infer

Yet since the tale deeply affected me
I will retell its story here for thee

It was about a magic land, wherein
One Frank, one Maggie lived among their kin
To whose fond numbers they had added two
Small children who little but loving knew

For this was overall a happy clime
Its order full of reason and of rhyme
Its citizens, contented, smiling went
About errands on which they had been sent
By inner preference rather than want
Which did not oft approach, their realm to haunt…

However could have such felicity,
You ask, among these people come to be?

Each baby born within this magic land
Had instantly put into its small hand
A little pouch which, strung about its neck
Remained for all its life at its close beck

And when the growing baby reached within,
Which early learned that baby to begin,
What do you think would come into the light?
I’ll tell you, friend — an interesting sight!

From out that pocket easily was fetched
A brown and fuzzy blob, which smiled and stretched
And swiftly to a person’s stature grew
Then wrapped around, and melted them into
Such warmth and fuzziness that person knew
As we here now have moments far too few
Among our own kind,

Who have bitter learned
Sweet smiles and sweeter lies oft leave us burned
Bent, mangled, twisted near beyond repair

When we do not unceasingly beware
When we forget endlessly to prepare
Against the violence of the unfair

And afterward to hear the judgment called
That, from defenselessness, ’twas our own fault
That we were so dishonorably used

So lost have we become, and so confused
So far from the swift handshake, steady eye
Which made commitments firm in days gone by

Now, these warm fuzzies even warmer were —
As warm and fuzzy as the thickest fur —
When by friendly acquaintanceship bestowed

Not he by whom one felt was something owed
(Which is too often friendship’s form today
And even of most marr’iages, I’d say)
But given freely by a loving heart
Which feels of their life yours to be a part

In Frank and Maggie’s land, that is to say
By anyone, for all felt just that way
Regarding every soul which passed them on
The road of life together set upon

And it was sometimes said by those who knew
That thus it was that each so happy grew

But, be that as it may, in that far land
Warm fuzzies came to one from every hand
Whoe’er was lacking joy need only ask
Subsequent in comfort’s glow to bask

More often, though, e’en that necessity
Anticipated by some caring soul would be
Who offered ere the asking need be done
Within that fair domain where all were one

So freely they exchanged the fuzzies there
Before one knew it, one must have a care
To give some more away or excess know!

Thus was maintained a sweet, vigorous flow
Among them of sustaining harmony
Which in our own land we too seldom see

“Might you have a fuzzy warm for me?”
You’d ask — the answer: “Here, have two or three!”
And given with such an engaging grin
It brought the asker closer kinship in

Why, some days, in the park, would form a group
Of fuzzy lovers, strung along a loop
In which each to each other gathered there
Would shower fuzzies on his or her hair

Till they were all so warm, as warm as toast
Of fuzziness each felt could surely boast
They had the most collected and in hand
Or at the very least all they could stand

Then all those who’d been watching had to do
As had the chortling ones they’d stopped to view

About which then a story written was
Which gave folks far and near probable cause
To throw their friends a fuzzy party too…

Within our storied land a chronic lack
Of these gave one a sickness in ones back
That made a body curl right up and die

Which constituted one more reason why
For everybody’s good a healthy flow
Of fuzzies was encouraged there to grow

And so successful were they then, withall
‘Twas seldom anyone fell ill at all

For it is understood even today
Contented hearts tend to keep such away
Though we forget it now, most sad to say
A hundred times in each and every day

A half dozen prescriptions do we take
Attempting our hearts’ hunger so to slake
But, it is true, our unspent misery
Chronic’ly ailing causes us to be

Now, in the magic land there also dwelt
A mean and ugly witch, who deeply felt
Ill provided for by her own fate

She pondered on it early, long and late
With visage discontented, wan and wry

She made herself a scanty living by
A medicine caused people not to die
When they had somehow a sufficient lack
To give someone that sickness in their back

From this her income was but very small
For there was almost no one sick at all

She might have mastered some new useful skill
Other communal needs and wants to fill
Or just assisted in the others’ toil

But that her pointy fingernails might spoil
Smiles crack her face should there be any fun
And then her green complexion, in the sun
And fresh air might take on a rosy glow

To all this she said a resounding “No!”
And spent the power of her narrow head
Imagining what she could do instead
More (and more, and more) wealth to generate
Yet no additional labor create

And to this problem such attention paid
Must take some of the medicine she’d made

But when she’d fretted a sufficient span
She had concocted her malicious plan

Henceforward babies, as each one was born
Received two pouches on their first bright morn
One brown and fuzzy, as had been before
The other — ’twere less clear what it be for

Instead of brown, this pouch was colored white
And, when explored, let out into the light
A snowy blob, all cold and prickly
Which likewise grew a person’s size to be

But when it gave its hug and melted in
One felt the prickly coldness to begin
Working its way th’entire system through

New parents held it in quite dim a view

“But,” claimed the witch, “They are preventative
And, in a pinch, will let your babies live
For though they might get very sick indeed
And for their backs some of my pain pills need
Should insufficient fuzzy warmth come by
This prickly coldness will not let them die
Until you can find something else to try
Which, after all, might cure them by and by!”

And so they took the second little bag
Bequeathed their well loved children by the hag

Then, seeing that her plans progressed apace
She put on a kind, sympathetic face
Over her own, and strolled Frank’s home unto
To put into effect her plan, part two

“Isn’t Maggie something?” she began
“I saw her give warm fuzzies to a man
While I was walking just on my way here

It seemed he held her fuzzies very dear
Their two hearts very close had come, ’twas clear!”

Frank gently smiled at this the mention of
“Oh yes,” he said, “My Maggie gives out love
Of such a very sterling quality
Many close friends wish nearer her to be

So precious people hold her company
They greet her presence affectionately
For Mags is just the best, they all agree
Impossible it’s to be prouder of
Anybody than I am of my love”

The crucial moment being now at hand
She sowed her words of poison on the land

“But what will happen,” came her quiet shout
“When of her warmth and fuzzies she runs out?”…

Frank looked at her in absolute surprise
A dawning sense of horror in his eyes

“Are you trying to tell me,” queried he
“That our warm fuzzies won’t keep coming free
Until the day we lay us down and die?”

He seemed like he might be about to cry

“Oh, no!” quotha, “And when they’re done — that’s it!
From giving out warm fuzzies she must quit
Not only to your neighbors, but to you
And, still more sadly, to your children too

If she really loved you as she should
She’s spend her fuzzies where they’d do most good
Among those whom her warmth most well deserve

She for you and the children should reserve
Her resources! No, I can’t answer for
What things may happen when she has no more…”

Then that ugly witch happily went
Into detail about what she had meant

“If one of them fell sick, comfort required
And she so desperate ever desired
To make that child feel warm and fuzzy, they
For lack of them would surely waste away

If you became discouraged, how would she
Encourage you new dreams and goals to see?

Surely you’re looking at, you must agree
An old age very cold and prickly

Nor will your children come to visit, for
Home won’t be fuzzy as it was before

The Maggie whom you so admire today
Will have been long gone and far away
The wife whom you so proud and brave now see
By then for decades will have ceased to be
All but a shadow of the girl she was

And all of this misery just because
She wouldn’t stay at home where she belongs
Singing just for you her sweetest songs!”

And then the witch continued, “You would thank
Me then if you had listened now, friend Frank…”

She seemed to think a bit, then hesitate
As she would not a cherished friend berate
Following which she spoke hesitantly
So he would not her inner triumph see

“But, Frank, I think I’ve seen you do it, too
Giving warm fuzzies to more than a few
Random acquaintances which I could name

Now, if you do that, you can hardly blame
Maggie for thinking she can do it too

If you desire your wife your point to get
A steady, strong example you must set”

She understood who she was talking to
Frank always, as she well and surely knew
Steady and strong had tried his best to be
For his beloved little family

When any course of action was begun
By his example then to make it fun
Requiring not a single thing from them
Which by his own inaction he condemn

Distracted by these high priorities
He caught the witch’s virulent disease

To calls for sacrifice he lent an ear
Better to serve the ones whom he held dear
The hidden menace in what she inferred
And falseness offered, these passed by unheard

And there and then did he resolve to be
With his own warmth and fuzzies much less free

When Maggie made it home and heard the news
Instant cooperation with his views
Was her reaction, for she long had learned
Her trust this conscientious man had earned

Always, before protesting, she had tried
The good suggestions of her private guide

Could they in any way be made to work
Her part in the proceeding she’d not shirk
But put her shorter shoulder to the wheel
If it would make her husband better feel

That was all the reward she need — to know
So doing caused his happiness to grow

Nor did she love her children any less
Ever seeking their little lives to bless
With all the education, patience, play
Guidance wherein a happy future lay
For they as he, who filled her daily hours
With little gifts and shyly offered flow’rs
So taught her children to save fuzzies too

Those very same attentive children who
Had earlier in life been taught to view
Th’exchange of love as right, all else as wrong
Found now their teachers sang a different song

Exhorting them to keep their fuzzies close
Measuring out each small, judicious dose
Thinking perhaps that one had better not
Or in ones dotage find oneself with naught
Nor even prospect of renewal! Oh,

The image of beloved children so
Warm fuzzyless in their advancing age
Filled Frank with something very much like rage

And they applied themselves to best present
Their understanding to such woe prevent

And so they made the little children swear
They’d spend their fuzzies not just anywhere
And not all their acquaintances among

And if some friend by reticense seemed stung
They should explain this was a wiser way
Fuzziless among themselves to play

Chillier, but then, protected they
Would be from want and need some distant day
Which for some reason more important grew
Than that fair day which they already knew
In which they’d always flourished pleasantly
By living in each moment presently
And letting future days grow of their own

No one had ever found themselves alone
Or lacking fuzzies with advancing years
The way that things had always gone before

No one had ever felt they needed more
Of anything at any time than what they had
And thus one independent little lad
Proclaimed to all when he had heard the news

Which moved embarrassed parents to excuse
His ignorance, so far had that tale gone
The gen’ral mindset to prevail upon

As you’d expect, it swiftly came to be
There none remained who gave their fuzzies free

Instead they all continual kept score
To see which of them might have given more
And which among them might have given less
Intending more to bargain than to bless
To trade or to extort more than to give

It became less wonderful to live
In Frank and Maggie’s land — little remained
The daily harmony which had been gained
By effortless goodwill they’d had before

“I need a fuzzy!” someone might implore
“My back begins to hurt so very bad!”

Then, counting every fuzzy that he had
His friend would shake a very worried head
And offer him some prickly cold instead

“For this at least will keep from you that ill
Which once it hurts you then will also kill

So if you live, although miserably
Remember whom you have to thank: kind me”

Then went upon his way, anxious to be
From other people’s torments fully free
And tell himself “It is from love I do
This withholding from sick, ailing you

I to familial duties only bow
Walking away from you uncaring now”

Strange things began to happen in that land
Such as we cannot fail to understand
Here in our own — among us now today
We live in all too similar a way

Some gathered fuzzies so effortlessly
That they popular people came to be
Then turned around and sold the extras to
Those whom they came less easily unto

A callous, enterprising businessman
Developing a trade in contraband
Painted cold pricklies a fuzzy brown
Which brought him cash if it did not renown

He dried them out and sold them on the sly
To all the sickly people passing by
On their despondent way to see the witch
About their pains and sadness, aches and itch

And these new plastic fuzzies, as they’re called
Held all the rudderless people enthralled

“They make ’em cheap,” they chortled, “I got three
By this new system practically free
I thought to give to friends they might be fun
Or sell to others — would you fancy one?”

Leaving receivers to ask themselves why
They afterward still had a need to cry
And didn’t feel even a little bit
Less achy and afraid because of it

One happy person lived within that land
The witch, who made much money out of hand
For all the poultices, tonics and pills
Needed to treat the dreadful list of ills
With which the people now afflicted were

Their past remembered seldom, but a blur
So many cares did immediately
Surround them, they did not look up to see
The swift decline of their once lovely land
Nor sadly seek its cause to understand

Nor would they have, e’en had they understood
Turned this dismal progress to the good

They whom so careless of its causes were
Slow to any remedy infer
Thus also slow to institute reverse

And so things swiftly went from bad to worse

Into all this unhappiness one day
There flew a woman who had come to stay
Among them for some reasons of her own

A woman such as they had never known
Born under sign of the Aquarius
With large hips underneath her flowing dress

They called her the Hip Woman instantly
Unconscious tribute to reality

But e’er too much time had between them passed
They came to look at her somewhat aghast
And their initial welcome rearrange
No doubt of it, this woman acted strange!

“Run out of fuzzies?” chortled heedless she
“How ludicrous can any statement be?
I’ve traveled many places in my day
But that’s a new one, I have got to say
Why, I have never heard of such a thing!”
And with her laughter made the mountains ring

The flowers poked up heads to check it out
Small animals were seen to run about
One or two birds even began to sing
That laughter seemed to perk up everything

A playful little breeze commenced to blow
Familiar scenery a little glow
First beams of light upon the healing blind

One person was unto another kind
In her beneficent vicinity

The children all loved her especially
She did not seem distracted, like the rest
Determining what’s worst and what is best
Benighted with judgmental prudency

Believing rather all creation be
Of value to the whole naturally
If it be nourished to its true estate

There was no spirit which would not be great
When treasured to its true abilities

As indispensable as soaring trees
Or relatively humble blades of grass
Or clods of dirt which we unseeing pass

Each necessary to the healthy all
Though in our ignorance one we may call
Magnificent, superior, sublime
Nor for the other even take the time
Any descriptive word to it apply

And count ourselves, unthinking, more of worth
Than any other creatures on this Earth

“Our” plants must merely live our mouths to feed
Or, as with “timber”, serve some other need

Then we extend this poison attitude
E’en unto those within the human brood

” I am worth more than he,” one tells himself
“By virtue of rude accidental health
Or by intelligence myself so lift

I am an infinitely greater gift
Unto all who glad associate
In priveledge with valuable me
Than can some lowly other ever be
Of lesser stature, this we all agree!”

But let his television cease to work
Or in his home parasites come to lurk
His car neglect to start, his plumbing fail
He finds this learnedness to small avail

And tell himself as often as he will
He could the function of each workman fill

Not ever having actually tried
He could not know that to himself he lied

And might no more hope to dig a well
Than diggers might the ancient legends tell
Or discourse Latin in, or set a bone
Or any other skill which time must hone
And predilection must assume its role
In useful contribution to the whole

“We all deserve warm fuzzies,” was her view
“So we should give each other them unto

Let the parents and the people shout
I never have seen anyone run out

And if there such a person really be
I now invite them to bring him to me

Till then I will continue in my way
Of giving out warm fuzzies every day”

And so she did — so did the kids as well

E’er very long their ranks began to swell
People young and old flocked to the place
Where smiles could oft be seen on every face

Cooperating, less work must be done
And that more swiftly finished once begun
In this way providing extra time
They chose to spend in feeling just sublime
Playing guitars, singing and dancing too

Their little compound in the mountains grew
Where warmth and fuzziness could still be found

Many came in from districts all around
Many the tales which filtered back from there

Telling life might be lived with much less care
And much more happiness than they’d suppose
When one in trust unto his brother goes

Whom, as they both have all that they require
Will give full sway the natural desire
One for another to have use unto

A smile to see upon that brother’s face
Which to facilitate he’d had the grace
The excellence, the privilege, the gift
Of sweet participation

How it lift
The giver and receiver equally
And anyone whom such exchange may see
Or hear about, or read a story in

How this create such happiness within
Each heart and soul that no one felt the need
His brothers’ bounds of comfort to exceed
To garner to himself any mere thing
Which might such a discomfort to him bring

When synchronous cooperation brought
Along with it such an enormous lot
Of kinds of pleasure none might ever buy

Although in much sad loneliness we try
Each purchased imitation lacking some
Ingredient to truly sweet become

The modern question “Are we having fun?”
Was in that fuzziless land first begun
And answered first Hip Woman’s children by

In one glad shout, posterity to bless
A lovely, resonant, resounding “Yes!”

Parents back home eventually learned
About this attitude, and were concerned

Not only kids trading warm fuzzies were
But also, they thought that they could infer,
Were not perpetually hard at work

“Learning responsibilities to shirk,”
They shook their heads, “though everybody knows
Life comes down to hard knocks and lower blows

In early life destructive precedent
Of character is set as in cement

We don’t know upon what they’re living now
But we are surely here to tell you how
Impractical that whole set up must be
If they can sing and dance so merrily
They must not saving for the future be

From our exper’ience we can tell you that
Squandering fuzzies isn’t ‘where it’s at’
They way they think it is, oh no indeed

Know the inevitable hour of need
Is hov’ring over each obliv’ious head
Which should be cringing under dread instead
Of all the monsters underneath its bed!

What will they do when crime begins to climb
Their limbs grow weaker with advancing time
Their children are distempered, friends aloof
Their enemies make charges with no proof
Which yet by venal judges sanctioned be,
When selfish interests cannot agree
When wives are faithless, and the elderly
So infantile become that they must be
Sequestered somewhere further from the home?

What when their friends their enemies become
As we know nearly always comes to be
In what’s called friendship here ‘mongst such as we?

When sickness falls, or else when tempers rise
Tomorrow’s child its parent then defies
What then? When by disaster they’re brought low
They’ll know ours was the better way to go”

It was the mothers most especially
Who couldn’t countenance that such should be
The fate of their descendents — they must act
To save the children’s fuzzies!

So a pact
Made they between them that they would
Go all together through each neighborhood
Gathering support to change the law

Which, by permissiveness, they clearly saw
From their clouded perspective, was
Endangering the future.

So the buzz
Began among the gossips and the gads
Overheard by lasses and by lads
Taken in by babes with mothers’ milk:

Those renegades were of a different ilk
Clearly parasitic to their own!

For they themselves convinced were to the bone
That no commune of careless singers might
Have got the hang of really living right

A shame it is none of the kids were near
To tell them how much less there is to fear,
That crime and disrespect just go away,
When one another we don’t push away

Living in contact with environment
Animal and human, land and plant
Brings on a lifetime of stability
Which separated cultures never see

It doesn’t matter if ones limbs are weak
When those who listen love to hear one speak
And stop at every passing to inquire
If there be aught the which you might desire
Happy to serve one who has long served all

They opportunity and priveledge call
A sacred chance to make this sister smile
Or help that happy brother for a while

But no one there beside them could explain
In words which worked to ease the parents’ pain
Their kids both worked and played to best ensure
A future sound and healthy, safe and pure

And so the ladies in committees went
Burdened with great anxieties, to vent
Them in the neighborhoods around

And in those neighborhoods they surely found
Many discouraged, burdened and harassed
Folks who were sure the children couldn’t last
In any sort of happy harmony
As they imagined their poor selves to be

And must most surely be protected from
That which they just as surely must become
Left to cavort upon their merry way
It must be done — it must be done today!

They passed laws, regulations, statutes, rules
Passed resolutions in their children’s schools
Passed prohibitions and set penalties
Time in cages, prohibitive fees
Unpaid labor and the right to seize
Any possession which they darn well please

Humiliation, ostracism, tears
And sweat and blood, were added to the fears
By which folks were already undermined

When all those laws were set and sealed and signed
There were things you couldn’t eat or drink
There were thoughts you shouldn’t even think

A doctor couldn’t give a fuzzy to
A patient, even when that doctor knew
It would be what it took to make them well

Nor could the teachers e’en their students tell
About warm fuzzies

Or let’s say
You danced across the park some lovely day
They’d call you crazy and take you away

And if this plant or that your garden grew
Your neighbors would have seen the last of you
In handcuffs, being escorted to
A place where fuzzies were completely banned

Which was supposed to make you understand
There was a time and place where fuzzies fit
And you had better squeeze them into it
However tiny that place, that time, be
However great the need for warmth you see

He who released warm fuzzies was a fool
In business, commerce, government or school

Because warm fuzzies had become so few
At just the sight of fuzziness folks grew
At once ungovernably crude

Midst this prevailing attitude
They afterward could point to it and say
“This person showed me fuzziness that day!”

Then they would straightaway affix the blame
On whoever the perpetrator’d name
As having brought upon his or her own
Dumb head, by giving fuzzies all alone
Whatever the decryer might have done

And then that idiot proceed to dun
For the expenses of hunting him down

The irritation of his anti-frown

Th’insid’ious beauty of her cotton gown
Where ugliness prevailed and fear
Dictated raiment all throughout the year

So even on the sunniest of days
Woe betide the woman whom those rays
Allowed to reach the sections of her skin
Enumerated all those statutes in

Men couldn’t smile at babes, or be suspect
Of having some foul sinister defect
By folks always on guard to find out lies

A city worker could not turn his eyes
Upon a woman while at work or be
Instantly fired for that natural act

Most every act of kindness was in fact
Rigorously now prohibited
Then further socially inhibited

A smile became an invitation to
Lewd acts or worse, a passing glance
Sent gangs of street rats into deadly dance

Diseases grew in such a rampant way
Most took five medications every day
And for each rare one who did not — what then?
Some other one made up by taking ten

And, to this scribe, the saddest thing of all
The action most relevant to their fall
They forced Hip Woman’s kids to come back down
And make their homes beside them in the town

And live by their asphyxiating rules

And put their children in violent schools

No longer working for each other they
Now worked alone, long hours for little pay

And slowly perished in the black despair
Which soaked that smoggy, poison-laden air

In ending, reader, I can only say
That’s how it is, there in that land, today

The kids and the Hip Woman trying to
Encourage all the rest to change their view
To something more sustainable and kind

The parents, by anxiety made blind
Insisting and resisting doggedly
Suggestion that unless they turn to see
The nature of their new reality
Their world will soon a prison planet be

Something, far as those kids are concerned
Into which it has already turned

The parents, still convinced that they are right
Still passing laws against fun and delight

“No outdoor gatherings,” “Keep off the grass”
“No loitering,” “No smoking,” “WATCH YOUR ASS!!”

And in that land, now full of sore travail
No one knows who’ll ultimately prevail…

That is the tale, and quite a tale it be
Evocative of thought, don’t you agree?

 

 

Ana Daksina (a.k.a. yours foolie) is so relieved to have discovered this astonishing community of writers that she’s too gaga right now to remember anything about herself whatsoever.

She comforts herself that writers of the caliber hosted on this site must surely have found themselves in exactly the same condition not only once but actually perhaps even on numerous occasions, particularly in the early morning hours.

 

 

Written for Rage Against the Machine Month.  If you’d like to be a part of the challenge, find more information Here.   But first, leave a comment and let Ana know what you think about her offering, and be sure to visit her over at her sites, Timeless Classics, The New Holocaust, and Success Inspirers World when you’re done.