Another Boy without a Name Contribution

The Boy Without a Name continuation:


"Do you find food on your own" said the boy. He realized he was
terribly hungry and he felt,sadly, that with this up-tight sap,
perhaps he'd made enough of a fool of himself already.


Bah Humbug to you to then said the boy, and he headed down the road
toward the mountain.


The boy was terrified as he knew he could not find food alone. Terror
turned to panic as he contemplated participating in the production
system of the adults. He knew that somehow he had to sing them a song
that would help thm loosen their grip on their petty schemes.


Oh, what about his nice pleasent travels to the peak of the mountain.
He got an anxious feeling that the two tasks must be done if either of
them were to be done.


He thought about his song.


All the adults were afraid to stand still. That's as good as a start
as he could come up with after a long perplexing thought. If they
could do that, they could enjoy all kinds of things. What were they
so affraid of?


they wanted to take and own things from the hills, forests and meadows
around the mountain. Was that it?


If so he would have to try his best to give them what they wanted.

More Endings to "The Boy without a Name"

More story endings for “The Boy without a Name.”

Jabez Martin wrote:

Boy: but, I am not like most humans, Magpie. I live by myself and, if I could, I would fly free – like yourself. I live off of berries, greens and roots; and, drink the cool clean water of the streams – like you. I am not a meat eater. So, I will not kill you for food.

Magpie: I see you are a Boy who thinks I should take time to talk with you and believe you at your word. Tell me why I should trust the words you speak.

Boy: Magpie, I only want to learn why and how the snowmountain can be so compassionate, allowing us to use him~feeding off his body, and remain untouched by the changing seasons.

Magpie: Boy, you expect to learn the why and the how of snowmountain by simple questions. Do you even know how many seasons snowmountain has existed? Can you imagine all that has passed before you – taking shelter in the caves and trees, harvesting the berries, nuts and roots, listening to the quiet of the forest and marveling at how the clouds circles the top of snowmountain as if cushioning the top from entry into the crown of existence? And, you say you want to learn the why and how of compassion. You have yet to tell me why I should trust you, let alone what qualifies you to even ask such questions.

Boy: Magpie, you should trust me because as I look into your eyes you can see my intent is honest. And, as far as qualifying myself for receiving such teachings, I have spent this time on earth in aloneness, never being a part of the mainstream crowd nor yearning for

the silver coins they seek. I know that I have only had a few seasons; but, I have spent these seasons in alone time observing humans and nature; but, most of all, seeking truth.

I know that you are wise and in your flights you observe the happenings from higher level so you see and know much more than I. When you are high in the sky you can see far distances and, I believe, you know why snowmountain can be so compassionate and kind; and, how snowmountain can continue to be throughout the seasons.

Magpie: Listen closely, Boy. Compassion comes from being grounded and experiencing season after season, knowing that it takes real strength to be gentle and real gentleness to be strong. And, to continue to be so throughout the seasons comes from knowing it is the right thing to do for himself thus drawing the strength to be who he is. Go about your way, Boy and experience.

Boy: But…

Magpie (as he flys away): remember to stay grounded.

Pamela Kaur wrote:

"I haven't time to waste on chattering with you," said the magpie, "I'm busy looking for food. And in any case you humans are usually full of trickery and you might be planning to kill me....”

I know you have no reason to trust me - but, I'm not planning to kill you or to trick you. I'm new to the area and just wanted to ask a question. I promise not to take up too much of your time.

Well, okay - I can't promise to answer it - but what is your question?

I spent the whole morning looking at the mountain, but it's impossible to understand it all. Sometimes he seems to be smiling in the brilliant sunlight, and sometimes he stands solemn and aloof while snow storms rage around him. Occasionally he shows himself in all simplicity, without adornments, and at times like those, one sees him directly and feels very close to him. His stillness and dignity are always there and remain untouched by the changing seasons. The days and months of the year don't appear to affect him. This mountain seems to have a kind and compassionate nature, as he allows all kinds of birds and animals to live on him and to feed off his body. But I felt I should know more about him....


What more do you need to know? Is it really necessary to understand? He is what you perceive him to be. To you, he has grace; he is kind, compassionate, and giving to all who come his way. What more do you need to know? Does it matter who he is, or what others perceive him to be?

Paulette Callen wrote:

I understood his fear. I had seen grown-ups do many bad things to animals. I said, “I don’t want to kill you. I want to learn about the mountain. Can you help me?”
The magpie eyed me with his clear and brilliant gaze. I waited.
Then he said, “Ask the mountain.” And he flew away.
This wasn’t the advice I had expected, but I considered it and decided it was as good as any, so I sat and gazed at the mountain again, as I had been doing, only this time I tried to see with the clear and brilliant gaze of the magpie. I am sure that grown-ups had given this mountain a name, as they like to do with everything else, and I was very glad not to know it. It would only have come between the mountain and me. Without knowing what other people called the mountain, I could see it as it really is and perhaps learn its real name. As I was waiting to learn my own.
As I said, it is my way to stay no more than 10 days in one place. I had spent 10 days with the mountain and it was my time to move on. I stood and bowed deeply to the mountain, thanking him for his teaching, and continued my journey.

Madeline Schreiber wrote:

THE BOY ... part 3

Day two of my journey, and the days to come held incredible surprises for me. Creatures, people and circumstances began to gather around me whether I was on my way or just resting somewhere. I glanced at them all but this was the stuff of grown-ups, and since I did not have a name I did not need to participate. But I wondered at all the busyness and I learned how to feel sad; not the same dark sorrow of the grown-ups, but I felt a longing to show them the specialties along the way, and to listen with someone to the songs of birds and wind.

I made friends with my sadness, and hand in hand we sat down. We remembered our majestic snow mountain together. Somehow, that day I knew that my journey was complete; my sadness and I need never move again. We were still. To this day I don't quite know why our stillness drew so much activity to us. People took up settling on our slopes; grains and flowers blossomed; wars were fought; love was born and died. I am so grateful to my tibetan snow mountain and my sadness. Even though I still have never moved I have seen many sunrises and sunsets. And to be sure I have heard laughter as well as crying. If I have ever had a name I have forgotten it now.

Snowy peak to awaken splendor
Broad expanse of shoulders
draped with arms of friends
Caves for yogis in earth's granite bedrock
Snow mountain, you are all I ever knew

And finally, Jacqueline Gens wrote this:


Part III How the Mountain Became the Boy’s Home


Slowly, I continued on my journey to nowhere around the great mountain, now my only companion, whose changing face continued to intrigue me with its mystery. Wherever I stood, the great mountain seemed a multiplicity of presence with its moods changing moment by moment. Was it the mountain that changed or me? I needed to know more.

One day I came upon a Ki kee bird*

“Tashi delly”, I said.
“Tashi delly” the Ki kee said hurriedly.
"I wonder if you’d be very kind,"” said I, "and answer some questions for me.”
“What do I know, I’m just a silly bird running this way and that looking for my mate.”
“Ki kee Ki kee Ki kee,” the little bird chirped, “Stop bothering me!”

Although many beings passed near to the mountain, none seemed to regard its majesty. Just me. How sad, I thought.

My life continued for quite a few jolly years, I don’t even know for how long. There were so many things to experience as I circumambulated the base of the great mountain. Beings came and went like the seasons and always it was just the mountain and me together wordlessly braving the elements, sometimes harsh, sometimes lovely to bask in. I was never bored for I noticed everything.

One day, I came across a ferocious looking she-dog flea bitten with swollen teats hanging to the ground and wild yellow eyes. Although I doubted she would know much about the mountain since her sufferings might have distracted her perceptions, before I could say, “Tashi Delly”, the old she-bitch, herself said,
“Tashi Delly,” her canine mouth smiling widely. “Well, sonny boy, I ‘ve been waiting for you a long
time. What took you so long?”
Speechless, I could barely say, “Me?” in a tiny voice.
“But I’m the boy with out a name who lives alone. Why would you be waiting for me?” Thinking she might attack me, I stepped back a bit.

But then the she-dog stood on hind legs and sang this melodious song in a sweet voice.

Boy, you think you are happy here in this valley in the shadow of the great one.
It’s time you grow up and climb this peak.
There you will behold the majesty of all the worlds
beyond even your imagination.
There you will truly enter the company of gods
for you have a destiny to fulfill
Your days of playing with sticks and stones are long past.
Lolling in the summer grasses is mere child’s play.
Become the man that you are destined!
Go find your name.

Then, she vanished.


Everyday, I contemplated the old mother-dog’s words, as my heart was sore with longing to understand more. Was I going to circle the mountain my whole life or climb this Peak? Had the mountain indeed become my home? If I had a home, then maybe I had a name too, although I didn’t particularly need to have a name. Why did I need a destiny if I was perfectly happy alone and without a name? I wanted to stay a child forever instead of passing my time in useless and trivial grownup concerns.

Hadn’t the mountain** already taught me so much—From a distance, I perceived its greatness; moving around it, I experienced it’s myriad moods about the nature of change. The mountain became for me a living breathing entity alive with all the elements. The mountain was my only friend.

Part IV How the Boy Got a Name


Since I was no longer interested in the stupid pursuits of humans dwelling among the dusty plains always in search of food, wealth, and worldly distraction, there wasn’t much for me to do except wonder even more about the mountain.

One day at the peak of my longing, I just began to climb my old friend the mountain—just like that. Every day, the mountain offered me its bounty of sweet smelling grasses and alpine flowers, medicinal herbs for sustenance. Now, I really was alone since I could no longer see my mountain and I was truly happy. With each step, I neared the summit, which was now beyond my view and sheathed in misty clouds. I had become the mountain. Was this destiny the old she- dog sang of—to become inseparable from the mountain?

On my ascent many marvelous animals crossed my path. In the deep forests, tigers roamed with ease,
moving purposefully with keen senses. Further up the mountain, the elusive snow lion frolicked playfully among the snow peaked ridges in the crisp air and dazzling sunlight. Inwardly, I leapt with the joy of fearlessness in meeting these creatures far from the dominion of men. As I approached the high summit, giant garudas circled overhead, their huge wings spanning continents and I was filled with awe. After many days, I reached the summit. I don’t even know how I did it since there was no longer any path to follow, neither foothold nor places to grab on to. Inch by inch, I slowly made my way sometimes resting my mind on the bare rock until the mountain presented itself to me or other times, gazing at the great expanse before me until my body and mind moved in perfect unison.

When I reached the summit—to the west, I saw glorious sunsets; to the east, I saw the sun’s first rays; in the north, I saw legions of storm gathering clouds swirling furiously; to the south, breaking through the mist, I saw numerous villages and towns,

Above me space was filled with the dragon clouds.
How wondrous, I thought. I felt that I could do anything, even fly!

After some time, seeing the villages below through the parted mist stirred in me a deep sadness that the people below did not know what I knew. Then, I understood my destiny. I had to join the company of grown-ups down below and tell them of my journey-- how they too could become one with the mountain. That was how my journey began and so I needed a name for the others to call me. There at the peak of glorious Meru, I heard the sound of my name-through the wind…Oceans….Oceans..Oceans..Oceans.. Oceans…of dharma. That’s how I got my name.


Jacqueline Gens
Brattleboro, VT
12.26.07 & 1.1.08

* Sorry, folks I made the name of this bird up based on recollection that there is a Tibetan “two note” bird.
**To see the greatness of a mountain, one must keep one's distance; to understand its form, one must move around it; to experience its moods, one must see it at sunrise and sunset, at noon, and at midnight, in sun and in rain, in snow and in storm, in summer and in winter and in all the other seasons. He who can see the mountain like this comes near to the life of the mountain, a life that is as intense and varied as that of a human being. Lama Govinda (48K) Mountains grow and decay, they breathe and pulsate with life. They attract and collect invisible energies from their surroundings: the forces of the air, of the water, of electricity and magnetism; they create winds, clouds, thunderstorms, rains waterfalls, and rivers They fill their surroundings with active life and give shelter and food to innumerable beings. Such is the greatness of mighty mountains....
In the dust-filled valleys and low plains of our daily existence we have forgotten our connections with stars and suns; and therefore we need the presence of these mighty signposts and milestones to shake us up and arouse us from the slumber of self-complacency. Not many are there who hear the call or feel the urge to rise from under their thick blanket of petty self-interests, of money-making or pleasure-hunting, but the few whom the call has reached, and in whom the longing for greater things is still awake, form a steady stream of pilgrims who keep alive the traditions and knowledge of these sources of inspiration.

The Way of the White Clouds, Lama Govinda,
Hutchinson, 1966

Boy without a Name: Some endings

THE BOY WITHOUT A NAME, Part Two by Chogyam Trungpa

....I don't really have a home and I never spend more than ten days in one place. Originally I came from East Tibet and I traveled westwards to the lands of Lho and Mon. Grown-ups tend to stay in the same place for a long time and when they do travel they're so busy they never have time to look at the valleys and mountains around them. They don't even notice the interesting stones on the road, or the flowers, but just trample over them.
Of course they never have time to play and all they talk about is how many silver coins they've got and how many yaks their neighbor has. If you ask them to tell you about Lhasa they only know about the big shops in the Barko Market and things like that. They don't seem to know about the birds' nests under the edge of the roofs and the millions of insects that live in the city, beside themselves. So the only way I can see them is by going there myself.
Tibet is such a beautiful country and each part of it has its own particular quality. There are lots of mountains and lakes and trees and things. There are so many things to see that my journey may take me a hundred years. The grown-ups race and fight against time, but for me time is a friend and I have no need to hurry.
Today is the first day of my journey, so here I am, playing in the road. I've only traveled 50 yards or so, but it would take the grown-ups ten years to learn what I've learned in this one day. When I looked up and saw the snow'mountain on the other side of the river, I composed the following song:
O pillar of the sky, you high-peaked mountain of Tibet,
You're surrounded by hills with flowering shrubs and many kinds
of herbs,
But your all-aloneness and your stillness still show through
As you wrap your peaceful cloud around your neck.

The peak of this mountain pierces the sky and his snowcap glitters in the sun. The clouds move slowly across his shoulders, and when you see him, it's as though you see the whole of Tibet in one glance. I spent the whole morning looking at the mountain, but it's
impossible to understand it all. Sometimes he seems to be smiling in the brilliant sunlight, and sometimes he stands solemn and aloof while snow storms rage around him. Occasionally he shows himself in all simplicity, without adornments, and at times like those, one sees him directly and feels very close to him. His stillness and dignity are always there and remain untouched by the changing seasons. The days and months of the year don't really affect him. This mountain seems to have a kind and compassionate nature, as he allows all kinds of birds and animals to live on him and to feed off his body. But I felt I should know more about him, so I stopped to ask a magpie who was perching
on a rock.
Tashi delly, I said. (Thats how we greet people in Tibet.)
Tashi delly, said the magpie in a rather suspicious tone of voice.
"I wonder if you’d be very kind," said I, "and answer some questions for me.
"I haven't time to waste on chattering with you," said the magpie, "I'm busy looking for food. And in any case you humans are usually full of trickery and you might be planning to kill me....

Part Three as contributed by Ocean of Dharma subscribers.

Kate Abato’s ending:

If I kill you, you wouldn't be able to answer my questions.

Frank Reynolds wrote:

THE BOY WITHOUT A NAME, Part Three

By Frank Reynolds

I reached into my bag and drew out a handful of assorted seeds I’d collected on my journey. Sometimes I scattered these seeds so that the trees, bushes, and flowers that had generated them could journey and grow in new places, but sometimes I would eat a handful, so I knew they were tasty. I placed them on a rock a few paces away from the magpie, and a few paces from the rock on which I’d been sitting, then I returned to my rock and sat again.

“Now you don’t have to look for food,” I said, “nor do you need to worry about me harming you because the rock where the seeds are piled is well beyond my reach. I have more seeds if you’re still hungry after eating those, and all I ask in return is that you answer a few questions for me.”

The magpie cocked her head for a moment and scrutinized me with one gleaming eye, but this posture left her other eye aimed directly at the delicious seeds. Soon her appetite overcame her wariness and she fluttered to the other rock and began pecking voraciously at the seed pile, always keeping me in view. She gobbled up the entire pile of seeds so quickly that she seemed almost embarrassed to then ask, “So you say you have questions? And more seeds?”

“First a few questions,” I said, “and then a few seeds.” I told the magpie what I’d observed about the snow mountain, and sang the song I’d just composed, then asked her what more there might be to know about the mountain.

“Oh, there’s much more,” she said, “much, much more.” Now I became the suspicious one, wondering if the bird might fabricate or embellish her stories in quest of food, but since I was more inquisitive than suspicious, I dropped a few more seeds on the rock where she had first perched, resumed my seat, and said, “Then please tell me what you have to tell.” Hopping from rock to rock this way, devouring seeds and chirping out her story, here is what the magpie said:

“This mountain is very unusual in that it has no name, but it changes appearance so much from day to day, from season to season, and when viewed from different sides that no name seems to apply, except “nameless mountain.”

But it is even more unusual because it did not start out with a mountain but as a man, a man with no name. This man once had a name, and owned a big shop in the Barko Market in Lhasa with his name on the front in large letters. Since he was a clever merchant he amassed many silver coins and built a big house near the Potala and married the most beautiful maiden in Lhasa and fathered several children. He was also quite generous, as merchants go, donating to monasteries and extending credit to herders after a hard winter. But then one year after the harsh icy winds had become mild breezes and flowers had begun to bloom in the highland meadows, his wife took their children out for a picnic in the mountains while the merchant worked in his shop. An avalanche roared down and buried the family with barely a trace – all that was found was a scrap of the cloth on which they had been sitting and shards that the merchant recognized as his wife’s favorite cup.

“This event left the man desolate. His prosperous life in Lhasa lost all meaning. He stopped tending his shop, so soon it was looted of all its wares. He left his home, which became an encampment for nomads and a nesting place for birds and squirrels until the walls weakened and the timbers gave way, rendering the former mansion a pile of rubble. By then the merchant was long gone, however, travelling the world as a man with no name and no fixed abode, but noticing everything – noticing more and more, it seemed. What started out as flight became a journey.

“Though he no longer had a name or anything to sell, people who encountered the man on his travels began to notice that this strange wanderer radiated qualities which attracted them: wakeful appreciation of the world, openness, simplicity, vast freedom, and dignity suffused with humor. His laughter, it was said, seemed to emerge from some deep cavern in the earth itself.

“So people often gathered and offered hospitality to the man with no name as he journeyed through their villages, asking him questions and listening to what he had to say, and thus learning a great deal that eased their confusion and suffering. Almost everywhere he travelled the villagers would try to get him to take up residence, but the man with no name was never tempted to settle again, until he realized that his life was coming to an end and that he would have no choice in the matter.

“That was when he came here. It is hard to imagine now, but this was once a dry and desolate place, ravaged by wind so relentlessly that practically nothing grew and no animals or people could be sustained here. Yet the man with no name came here nonetheless and simply sat in meditation posture on the barren plateau. It is said that sitting this way, he died with the wish to be of great benefit, for this great mountain appeared around the very spot where he had taken his seat and died, diverting the ravaging winds, gathering rain and snow clouds which water the surrounding desert and make it verdant, providing homes and sustenance for birds and animals, offering meadows where nomads graze their herds and snow lions romp in the fragrant air. The mountain connects earth and sky in a way that is ever-changing in appearance yet indestructibly constant in essence.

“It is said that of all the benefits offered by the mountain with no name, the greatest is inspiration,” the magpie summarized. “A wise woman came here once and discovered a jeweled case embedded in an obsidian wall of a cavern in the mountain’s very heart. She opened the case and drew out a scroll on which a prophecy was written proclaiming that one day someone would come who would fully appreciate the mountain’s qualities, embody them, and be able to draw these qualities forth from others.

“Aha,” the bird concluded, “since it seems that both your seeds and my story are exhausted, I’ll be off.”

I watched the magpie fly straight as an arrow shaft toward the mountain’s glimmering peak, become a dot against its radiant snow cap, and disappear. Then I resumed my journey, alone.

John Eberly wrote:

THE BOY WITHOUT... part three/the end
by John Eberly 12/26/07

This was exactly the answer I thought I'd get and it delighted me when the magpie flew away toward something tasty.

Although I had not traveled far, I knew that traveling means going from here to there and when you get there its here and you're always looking there so I decided to just stop and be wherever it was that I found myself.

And so here I am, and here I stay, living alone but with everything at the same time, without time or space, or name or place. You may decide to travel like I did, and and if you do, you will no doubt see many wonderful, beautiful, extraordinary things, but if you find me, I think you will be disappointed!

THE END

Mark James Fischler wrote:


Yes Magpie our self absorption is a painful part of the human story. If I may though, what does the mountain do that we don't?"

"The answer is in the nothingness that the mountain does, "said the Magpie. "You see there is no mountain. Ask the mountain it's name and it replies as the nameless. Ask the mountain what it does and it will share that it just is. The beingness let's the mountain share its riches, without getting caught up in the human tragedy. That's why the mountain and I walk the same path. Now let me sing, eat, fuck, shit and die."

As the nameless I too will float through the universe on a cloud of dharmic fumes living the life of a bodhisattva.

Lynn Johnston wrote:

In my opinion it would be a shame to give this story an ending.

She offered this continuation:

I was sad to learn that magpies become adults too. I turned away without a reply and continued on my journey that has no end. My eyes wonder at the beauty surrounding me and I am filled with peace and joy as I stop a few steps up the road to watch a bee gathering nectar from a flower.

More endings coming in the next few days!

The Boy without a Name, Part One

Cheerful New Year to all!

On Christmas Eve, Part One of a story by Chogyam Trungpa was posted to Ocean of Dharma Quotes of the Week. This story appears in the archives of Chogyam Trungpa's unpublished poetry. There is no date given for when it was composed, and no one seems to remember the circumstances behind the writing of this story.

Subscribers to Ocean of Dharma were invited to submit story endings. Several people submitted additions or endings to Part One. What follows is Chogyam Trungpa’s Part One, followed by the OD contributors. Tomorrow I’ll post Part Two of the story as written by Chogyam Trungpa and several of the endings written by Ocean of Dharma readers. I’ll continue to post these to the Legacy blog until they’re all posted by the end of the week.


THE BOY WITHOUT A NAME or THE BOY WHO LIVED BY HIMSELF

By Chogyam Trungpa

Part One

I am the boy who lives by himself. I don't do anything in particular, I just live that’s the way I am. I spend my life playing and I make up my own toys. I have no one to play with. The sort of things that interest me are stones and rivers and trees and clouds. Since long ago I have had no parents or brothers and sisters, so I just live alone. Sometimes I want to do like the grown-ups, but then I realize there's no point in that. I have my own world to live in, and I'm known as "the boy who lives by himself.

When I was born, no one gave me a name. Perhaps my parents did give me a name, but somehow it never entered my mind. So I remain nameless. Grown-ups like giving each other names. And they like inventing names for objects as well, without stopping to consider whether the name really fits the thing or not. They learn these names by heart and write them down.

Once a friend of mine was given a name by his father and a different name by his mother. His father's friends called him by one name and his mother's friends called him by the other, and this rather confused him. As a result he wasn't quite sure which was his real self. This bothered him for a long time, until one day I suggested to him that he should be nameless like me. At first he didn't like the idea. He said, "If I didn't have a name, how would I know who I am?" I found it difficult to explain to him in words, so I just said "Well, why don't you give it a try and see what it’s like?" So he did. But this upset is parents very much because he no longer answered to the names they had given him.

Now he was able to see what his nameless self was really like and he became like a tiger who has broken his chain....

End of Part One.

Rochelle Weithorn wrote the following ending to part one of the story:

In the summer, I enjoy sleeping under the stars along the river bank. The cool breeze washes over me and I feel refreshed. I look up at the moon and it smiles back at me. I once heard someone say there is a man that lives in the moon so I try to make out the lines of his face, a smile, a twinkling of an eye, The moon is my friend. Grass feels so soft to lie on and I love smelling the sweet green scent it exudes. Sometimes my friend the tiger comes and brings her cubs to drink the cold refreshing water the river has to offer. Then we cuddle up together and just relax. Being a boy with no name and no home means no one is waiting for me to return at a particular hour or any particular place. So I just stop where I am and rest there for the night.

There is a magical time in the wild just between dusk and nightfall when things get very still and the silence fills my heart with longing. I long to understand why my heart beats faster when I run or why hugging a tiger cub makes me so happy. My heart bursts with joy when I see wild things grow in the forest and the purity of nature around me. I feel so free and happy here with my friends who also have no names.

In the morning, my friend the sun greets me with a smile. I sit up and thank the sun for warming us here on this beautiful planet we live on. I wonder if the sun knows that's what we call her? Perhaps the sun is just like me with no name? I enjoy resting my mind in the early morning light. It feels so good to just be still. After a while I enjoy eating some berries or fruit and drink fresh water from a nearby waterfall. For a boy with no name and no place to call home, my world is always filled with discovery and laughter. If you want to see what I look like, just look up at the moon and see my reflection smiling back at you!

Kate Abato added this to part one::


and experiences for the first time the breeze of delight. . .


Beth wrote this to add to Part One:


Now he was able to see what his nameless self was really like and he became like a tiger who had broken his chain....At first he was stunned not to have that chain around his neck any longer. Although it had weighed him down and it was cold and heavy, it had become a part of him. As the chain was removed he felt as though he suddenly had the kind of power he had never felt before. It was such a strange feeling. Now nothing or no one could hold him back; no one could scare HIM any more. He paraded around his home feeling so strong and powerful that he almost scared himself. He had never before felt this way. When his mother or father looked at him he was able to look right back at them knowing that there was nothing to be afraid of any longer. Now he had the power; now he could scare them and not they him any more. -!

At the same time however he was missing that chain. That chain which had given him a sense of belonging and security, almost a feeling of Love. He knew that his parents loved him, but now, that he was this free, how could he be so sure?

Stay tuned for more of the story in days to come!