The following is a story which is part of a series of stories given to Kay during several extended vision quests. In time we hope to be able to share more of those stories, for now, the Spirits advice is to move slowly.
I sincerely hope you enjoy.
Love and Song,
Countless centuries ago the oldest races of the Great Mother Galaxy banded together to create an experiment of huge proportions and magnitude, one that would stretch through millions, maybe even billions of years.
They set aside their differences and struggles with each other in order to follow their deepest longings and pursue their most important work ever.
They wanted to explore life itself.
They wanted to smell it, feel it, watch it as it existed without fences. They wanted to coax it, love it, prod it, pull it apart and put it back together again. They wanted to see how far they could take it – and what made it tick. They wanted to see where it would go, what it would do, how tenacious it was and how delicate.
They wanted to taste it from the inside out.
So they had decided to build, from a dead hunk of rock in space, a complete inhabitable planet right down to the last hidden detail, in a very short period of time, and then carefully place on it billions upon billions of different life forms of all types, forms and sizes.
Never to interrupt unless complete disaster was approaching.
The Great Experiment.
A planet wide chance for pure discovery. A place where life could spread itself in whatever way it wanted, with no interference. A place where nature was the boss.
A place away from everything else, away from the daily traffic of the great races, away from the demands and expectations of advanced sentients.
A place where nature could work undisturbed. Isolated. Exploring itself without interruption.
It would be a planet wide laboratory. The perfect Petri dish.
Even the builders would not put labs or houses or anything on its surface. They would watch from deep inside the surface, hidden, out of the path of nature. And they would watch from orbit in the heavens.
The builders were ecstatic. Never before had they been able to experience such purity, such extensive possibilities, such proliferation of life. Their home worlds were covered with the footprints of civilization, technology. There remained no place for life to move spontaneously, to create new smells or new colors. The sounds of their worlds were predictable, fenced in by the presence of sentients.
There was no room for life to spread itself into new shapes with new dances.
To observe, to actually feel, nature stretching free and boundless was almost too much to hope for.
They searched from one solar system to another until they found a barren rock planet of just the right size with lots of water present. And they pulled it into the best orbit around its star so that it would create huge bodies of moving fresh water and clear air to breath.
They found another smaller barren planet, dragged it all the way across the solar system and placed it in a perfect orbit around their baby planet creating a moon. Tides and cycles began to form. They even built watching posts on the surface of this moon – they could see everything from there.
They tilted the planet’s axis to generate seasons and all types of changing weather.
One by one they brought life forms from all over the galaxy, single celled to giant monsters, so many different species.
And they watched.
It was glorious!
Life taking new turns at every opportunity.
Then they started to engineer new life forms and added them to the surface.
And they watched.
Through the countless eons the magnificence, diversity and shear numbers of life on the experimental planet was unsurpassed throughout the galaxy. Almost every type of terrain was present and flourishing – life went everywhere.
Everyone came and watched.
It was the perfect garden.
The only thing missing from this garden was a sentient species. So they collected some primitive sentients from other planets and moved them into the experiment, one group at a time.
None of them lasted very long and died out within a few thousand years leaving behind a lot of destruction. The builders were worried about this. What would this mean for their experiment?
Some of the primitive sentients were too fragile and could not adapt to their new homeland. Some over populated themselves and ran out of food from their area. All the primitives, it seems, had quickly forgotten what it meant to cohabit with the other species, even unnecessarily causing the extinction of other species.
The builders were passionately mixed about what to do next.
Some adamantly believed that the primitives tipped the balance between the other species out of kilter, and distorted the ongoing experiment and the hundreds of thousands of smaller, localized sub-experiments. They were afraid the presence of primitives would destroy everything they had built.
The others believed the whole experiment couldn’t possibly be completely fair, accurate and valid without the presence of at least some sentients.
Words were hot and sharp between the two groups.
Their talks lasted centuries until finally they agreed to place a primitive sentient group in an isolated area, and so limit how they might damage the other forms and their long developed balances and adaptations.
And they watched.
One day, as things were moving along, outsiders, one of the older races from beyond the galactic borders who had not been in the experiment but kept a watch from a great distance, showed themselves to the builders.
They burst into the watching posts and forced the builders to listen. The outsiders were appalled at the gall of these experimenters.
They said the builders had no business creating an entire planetary system, taking all these different species and sentients from their homes and plopping them down wherever and whenever they pleased into their artificial land. And worst of all, for someone to create their own private species variations in a laboratory completely divorced from nature and insert them into the planetary environment among all the other species was absolutely unthinkable.
And they demanded that the experiment be disbanded and the planet left back to its own, untampered evolution.
There was no listening.
There was no one trying to understand the other’s words.
War became inevitable.
The outsiders bombed the surface of the planet where underground watching facilities had been built. They bombed the watching stations on the orbiting crafts and on the surface of the planet’s satellite.
Many builders were killed. They were not set up for war.
All the experiments came to a halt. The surface of the planet was in shambles. Many species didn’t survive, including the sentients. Many life forms were lost forever.
The builders couldn’t understand the violence, the purposeful destruction. Their hearts were ripped wide open. Their tears could have filled the oceans.
It was a great long struggle before the builders expelled the outsiders and were finally able to rebuild their great garden experiment and return to their watching.
The planet surface was declared off limits to everyone except the staff for the experiment. But the skies were often crowded with observers of all the older races from all over the galaxy.
Life on the little garden planet prevailed and quickly covered, once again, the entire surface, adapting itself in ways the builders never imagined.
Left over from the wounds of war, they had a new form of terrain to add to their many varieties of landscapes – deserts. Life filled even the deserts. It was hardy, tenaciously adaptive and unusual in the extreme, unlike anything seen on any of the other planets.
The experiment was proving more dynamic and puzzling, and more enriching than anyone had ever dared to expect.
At that point, the only thing missing was the presence of primitive sentients.
There was a group on another planet that was endangered so they brought them into the experiment. This time they taught them to respect their home, themselves and all their neighbors.
Time moved on, and it seems that anybody and everybody, and all their cousins, came to watch from the heavens.
Every now and then some would go down to the surface. It was outlawed of course. But the intruders didn’t think they would be any problem. The builders tried to stop them but the trespassers became too many.
Some wanted to set up colonies on the surface.
Some even started mining, creating their own race of primitive sentients to work as slaves in the mines.
After a time the different intruders began to interact with the primitive sentients on the planet surface, disrupting their natural progression, even introducing new concepts into their cultures.
And then the most destructive actions to the experiment imaginable began to take place – the many different intruder races began to mate with the primitive sentients and the females bore children from the matings.
The interbreeding brought greater strength, longevity, intelligence and new desires to the primitive sentient populations. Many of these primitive sentients had learned new ways of thinking, feeling and believing that put a great stress on the garden and their own cultures.
Rather than risk war again the builders tried in other ways to discourage and remove the trespassers.
After much loss to the pristineness of the experiment the trespassers left the planet.
But nothing was ever the same again.
In a remarkably short period of time the now altered primitive sentients had covered most of the planet. And their altered thinking was driving so many of them to build and grow and control at any cost, even the cost of harming and completely destroying others and their garden home.
They were tearing their own source of life apart.
They had lost all sense of respect for themselves or anything else.
They had forgotten their early instructions. They had forgotten how to recognize beauty and wonder. They had an idea of progress and advancement that had come from the intruders and would stop at nothing to imitate them, to become “advanced” themselves.
They began to war with each other.
The garden was starting to look like an unkept trash zone.
Through all the long millennia there were always some species that overran another even to extinction; and sometimes the changing conditions of the planet itself led to extinctions. That was to be expected. That was part of the experiment.
But now, suddenly, hundreds of thousands of species had died off, unable to continue, unable to withstand the movements and actions of the local sentients. There were extinctions even among the strongest and the most adaptable species.
The garden builders never saw this coming. Never guessed things this cruel could happen. Sadness swept through the outposts. Some even left the experiment and returned to their homes.
The rest of the builders decided to keep out of sight of the local sentients.
And the local sentients soon forgot about the existence of the garden builders. They forgot their original ties to their plant and animal neighbors and to their planet.
There were many heated talks on what to do with the garden experiment. Friendships suffered and it seems that there were no good answers. So much was at stake.
The purity could never be recovered. It had been soiled, piece by piece, by the carelessness, the greed, of the intruders. Many felt termination of the project and all the life forms on the planet was warranted.
Others believed the experiment was not over. It had much still to reveal. At this point no one could predict the outcome of any species on the planet. There could be rogue mutations, adaptations, more extinctions and survivals – and without a doubt, many surprises yet to come.
On the planet’s horizon there was an even more significant influence to come. The garden planet’s solar system was about to cross into a dense galactic field in its trek across the universe. They had awaited this moment for eons. They had found no precedence in nature of such an event. The effects of the field on the billions of species and all the delicate balances they had developed between them was a complete unknown, even for them.
The consensus came about that the experiment was not yet over. Much could be learned and gained from what was left of the plant and animal species and even from the sentients in their present state of development.
The garden was still extremely valuable.
They decided to increase their studies of all the species, especially, the sentients. They set up many orbital labs and brought samples and sentient specimens by the thousands to be thoroughly tested, recorded, analyzed.
A remarkable thing came to light. The sentients no longer had their original DNA. They were a blending, a homogenizing, of all the DNAs from all the races that had interfered with their development. This was a completely unique occurrence in the galaxy. The builders had no idea why this had come about.
So now it turns out the garden sentients were also much too valuable to eradicate or lose. They had the potential to become one of the advanced races. They could be a most unique and dynamic addition to the old group.
The Great Experiment had taken on a whole new direction. It seemed like it had a life and path of its own.
The builders couldn’t contain their excitement. The buzz spread to all the home worlds and many flocked to the garden to help.
They needed to stop further damage to the surface of the planet. And they needed to help the sentients see how much they depended on their own planet and what might await them in their future, before it was too late; before the planet entered into the unknown of the galactic fields.
They decided they would go down among the garden sentients disguised as some of the garden population and influence them. They would teach them, make them aware of the whole picture, to understand the extent of the damage they had created in their home and within themselves – and convince them to reverse it.
The garden builders were surprised to find the extent of the damage the sentients were paying for their goal of “progress as fast as possible at any cost.”
The beautiful soil and plants were covered with artificial pavement as far as the eye could see. The waters were full of waste. The smell in the air was like the burning of a city after a great battle. And the sentients had taken to eating their own artificial creations.
There was no spark on the faces of the sentients. Their eyes were numb and no longer looked for the mystery or beauty of things. Their health was waning. It’s as if they were already dead but they just didn’t know it.
The builders had taken on the job to stir them up, to get them to want to feel life again. To want more than to just barely exist.
To give up the idea to have gain at any cost. To continue in beauty, in love with life and benefiting everything around them. To take the responsibility that is theirs to ensure that their species continues in health and happiness. To uncover the truth of their possibilities and grasp what could actually be in their future if their species and their planet were to continue in harmony.
The garden builders thus set about to infiltrate every corner of the primitive sentients’ lives delivering the message of how the garden dweller’s own thoughts and beliefs have made their world and themselves sick and the responsibility they have now to change those thoughts and beliefs, to choose life and love.
Love and Song,