Tony
2nd July 2011, 09:45
The Secret life of Avalon Trolls
Not all that is child-like is childish.
Not all that is childish is for children
Not all grown ups have grown up.
Not all Trolls are Trolls
As usual, a bloody Avalon battle was raging. Every Troll had gone insane with excitement, fighting with teeth and principles, to try to gain control of the machine. Levers were buckling as many hands pulled in opposite directions. They were raving and screaming. Some were cranking motors till their hand were raw with blood. Others were frantically checking dials, while more were cleaning the blood off.... Others were busy polishing , giving the machine a final buff up, and standing back to look at their reflection saying “Hmm, that's better. Simon, do you by chance have any extra rags?”
This, of course, was the worst insult - calling a Troll by their old human name. All hell broke loose again! The insulted Troll took out a can of oil and jammed it into the other's ear, and started squirting. His screams excited the other trolls, who immediately did the same thing thing to their nearest neighbour. There were oily ears everywhere! Blood, oil, and little bits of brain spat into the air. The roaring of the engines and the screams were terrifying! There were cries of “Rags!” and “More rags!”
This was the normal life of Trolls. Half were tearing each another limb from limb, while the others were polishing...
Deep down in vast underground caves, The Machine Masters heard the machine start up. They knew at once that their Trolls had started the engine again. They knew the great danger, but the Trolls could not help themselves. They were letting off steam.
Over thousands of years, The Masters had lovingly cared for the machine, waiting for the right moment. This was not it. Not yet. The problem was controlling the trolls: they were remnants of a dark past, and they took themselves very seriously. The Trolls too loved the machine: they loved the invention, the power and the speed - but above all they loved the jargon. Paradigm speak...
“We need four more gigamertz of karma!”
“My dylithium crystals are ascending!”
“My timeline's gone wogglesnanger!”
Their conversation would go round and round in circles (you know the sort of thing...)
The Trolls had become mindless creatures. All they ever wanted to do was press buttons and pull levers, and it did not matter to them what the machine did. That is how these creatures got their name: they liked controlling, hence the name Troll!
The Trolls were products of the human things who had died out thousands of years earlier.
At the end of the human period, the only phrases they could say were, ”Push button! Go fast”!
The old humans had made more and more machines, to do more and more things to make life easier (or so they thought). It all worked so nicely! The world population grew so large that they could no longer feed themselves, as they had used up all the natural materials to make their machines - and so they died out. They were obsessive creatures. They never had enough. It was as simple as that.
These Trolls were just the same. They had become machine-like themselves, and had gradually forgotten what the machine did: they never asked questions. In fact, the machines now controlled them - and they never even noticed.
The Masters would amuse them by turning the lights on simple machines on and off which did absolutely nothing, but gave the Trolls something to watch. This seemed to satisfied them: if the Masters hadn't done this, they would have just stood and stared, and eventually died out.
The horrible truth was that the Trolls had become too docile. They would flare up in anger now and again, but quickly forget why they were doing it. The Masters had done their job too well, and a great fear arose in them (we shall see why later). The process of getting the Trolls to change was slow. They had to get them to ask questions. If we do not have a question, how can we learn? A Troll never asks questions - that's how you can identify them.
The Masters decided that it was necessary to introduce a New-Life-Form into the system. This could make the change that was needed for the Trolls to evolve. There was a danger that the New-Life-Form could itself become a Troll, as Trollism is very infectious.
The Masters knew that the Trolls had to wake up and evolve quickly, as the Reptrolls were coming...they were the Masters of the Masters. They were also...Mind-Eaters!
And here is the horrible truth for the Masters. The Trolls did not have any mind left: the Masters had seen to that. They knew that the Reptrolls would be very hungry and very angry. The Masters' minds (and those of his friends) had, over the centuries, expanded to such an extent that they were now very very, very juicy!
I think you can now see the problem... all that glitters in the mind is not gold!
Meditation = nothing in mind = alertness = Consciousness.
Not all that is child-like is childish.
Not all that is childish is for children
Not all grown ups have grown up.
Not all Trolls are Trolls
As usual, a bloody Avalon battle was raging. Every Troll had gone insane with excitement, fighting with teeth and principles, to try to gain control of the machine. Levers were buckling as many hands pulled in opposite directions. They were raving and screaming. Some were cranking motors till their hand were raw with blood. Others were frantically checking dials, while more were cleaning the blood off.... Others were busy polishing , giving the machine a final buff up, and standing back to look at their reflection saying “Hmm, that's better. Simon, do you by chance have any extra rags?”
This, of course, was the worst insult - calling a Troll by their old human name. All hell broke loose again! The insulted Troll took out a can of oil and jammed it into the other's ear, and started squirting. His screams excited the other trolls, who immediately did the same thing thing to their nearest neighbour. There were oily ears everywhere! Blood, oil, and little bits of brain spat into the air. The roaring of the engines and the screams were terrifying! There were cries of “Rags!” and “More rags!”
This was the normal life of Trolls. Half were tearing each another limb from limb, while the others were polishing...
Deep down in vast underground caves, The Machine Masters heard the machine start up. They knew at once that their Trolls had started the engine again. They knew the great danger, but the Trolls could not help themselves. They were letting off steam.
Over thousands of years, The Masters had lovingly cared for the machine, waiting for the right moment. This was not it. Not yet. The problem was controlling the trolls: they were remnants of a dark past, and they took themselves very seriously. The Trolls too loved the machine: they loved the invention, the power and the speed - but above all they loved the jargon. Paradigm speak...
“We need four more gigamertz of karma!”
“My dylithium crystals are ascending!”
“My timeline's gone wogglesnanger!”
Their conversation would go round and round in circles (you know the sort of thing...)
The Trolls had become mindless creatures. All they ever wanted to do was press buttons and pull levers, and it did not matter to them what the machine did. That is how these creatures got their name: they liked controlling, hence the name Troll!
The Trolls were products of the human things who had died out thousands of years earlier.
At the end of the human period, the only phrases they could say were, ”Push button! Go fast”!
The old humans had made more and more machines, to do more and more things to make life easier (or so they thought). It all worked so nicely! The world population grew so large that they could no longer feed themselves, as they had used up all the natural materials to make their machines - and so they died out. They were obsessive creatures. They never had enough. It was as simple as that.
These Trolls were just the same. They had become machine-like themselves, and had gradually forgotten what the machine did: they never asked questions. In fact, the machines now controlled them - and they never even noticed.
The Masters would amuse them by turning the lights on simple machines on and off which did absolutely nothing, but gave the Trolls something to watch. This seemed to satisfied them: if the Masters hadn't done this, they would have just stood and stared, and eventually died out.
The horrible truth was that the Trolls had become too docile. They would flare up in anger now and again, but quickly forget why they were doing it. The Masters had done their job too well, and a great fear arose in them (we shall see why later). The process of getting the Trolls to change was slow. They had to get them to ask questions. If we do not have a question, how can we learn? A Troll never asks questions - that's how you can identify them.
The Masters decided that it was necessary to introduce a New-Life-Form into the system. This could make the change that was needed for the Trolls to evolve. There was a danger that the New-Life-Form could itself become a Troll, as Trollism is very infectious.
The Masters knew that the Trolls had to wake up and evolve quickly, as the Reptrolls were coming...they were the Masters of the Masters. They were also...Mind-Eaters!
And here is the horrible truth for the Masters. The Trolls did not have any mind left: the Masters had seen to that. They knew that the Reptrolls would be very hungry and very angry. The Masters' minds (and those of his friends) had, over the centuries, expanded to such an extent that they were now very very, very juicy!
I think you can now see the problem... all that glitters in the mind is not gold!
Meditation = nothing in mind = alertness = Consciousness.