The Tiny Eudemonia

It was on the 500th birthday of a wise old monk that the gods saw fit to impart upon him a special gift. The morning sun and Lysenties rose to produce a fantastic Sunday in his forest-surrounded home on the outskirts of Ofcol, but to his ordinary ears there came a shock! Voices, everywhere, had engulfed him; tiny, innocent, merry little voices. They sang, they chattered, and amongst the racket, the old monk could not for the life of him understand what had spawned them.

It was not until the next day that upon swatting an annoying lady bug from his wrist did he hear a mild whine of protest. Swearing that the noise came from the very insect he just did flick, he leant close and put his deep blue eyes upon the miniature antagonist.

"Say there, did you, little creature, speak?" asked the old monk. The sweet voice of the lady bug tickled the monk's ears suddenly!

"I was just taking a stroll, my good sire! I meant no intrusion, I say so with honesty!"

The old monk was tangled in himself with controversy; perhaps his mind was finally leaving him, but alas! Future discussions with the insects and nigh invisible critters of Aabahran would prove otherwise, as he would have *never* believed his own mind to fabricate the wisdom of our world's smallest ecology!

"We mingle, or kill one another not out of hate. Even the victims of the praying mantis or the wasp are overjoyed at the chance to join the Cycle of Life", explained one grasshopper.

"The flowers we pollinate bloom and stem from the compost of

death -- when I die, my colors will feather into the life of the forests, and my ancestors will drink from my nectar", explained a butterfly.

The old monk was entranced by the utopian brilliance of the

itty-bitty entities! The ant worked through the joy of its colony, and for the joy of the Cycle. The bugs bathed in the contrast of violence and peace; they bred the philosophy of tranquility, action, and reaction into one, hate-free harmony. The old monk later wrote that this pure Eudemonia was founded on the concept of collectiveness, humbleness, and the tolerance of death.

The small creatures taught the old monk to avoid the illusion of a world without violence or war, for that it was war and violence that made acceptance and love important. Their world, an ever functioning ecology, independently serves every single angle of the Triad; the story of the old monk attempts to eliminate sentience and morality from the spectrum of the possibility of our own Eudemonia.