LEE WEN
ARTIST'S MESSAGE

A farmer boy liked climbing the mountains. He found an eagle's nest filled with eggs and took one home. He was afraid his father would not allow him to keep it, so he hid it beneath a roosting hen. The eagle grew up in, as a chicken just like other chickens. lt grew up thinking it would be a chicken amongst the other chickens. Sometime it shrieks out a distinct cry and stretches its wings quite unlike the other chickens. It grew up without learning how to use its wings to fly, not even knowing it could fly. It tried to lead a normal chickens life on the farm, but always felt something missing and was often uneasy.

One day the eagle felt, it could not stay and had to stray from the farm. lt walked into the forest, towards the
mountains. Then an eagle, flying in the sky, spied the eagle walking on the ground. The flying eagle felt disgusted
that one of its own kind was walking. So it flew down and asked, Why are you walking and not flying like other
eagles?" I am a chicken. How can I fly?" replied the walking eagle. Nonsence!" said the flying one, Climb on
my back, I´ll show you how to fly."
Up they went into the sky. At a great height, the eagle, who could only walk and has never flown in its life,
suddenly got frightened and let go of the flying eagle's back. lt fell down, spiralling and in fear started to flap his
wings and suddenly found that it could fly.
As time passed, he learned the way of the open skies. Of course, this was not always easy.
Sometimes it flew too fast and high, injuring itself. Somtimes it flew too low and went back to walking. But it
soon learned to fly like any other eagle.
One day, it missed its friends from the farm and returned to the farm to see them. It tried to explain the ways of the open skies and share its adventures with the chickens.
Suddenly, the farm boy appeared from behind and grabbed the eagle by its two wings. The strong farm boy tried
to pin the eagle down while the eagle struggled hard to break free... In a cold sweat, I woke from that dream
knowing that it was a dream while I was dreaming it. Waking up from the dream, I found that I was still in a dream.
And when I awoke, I wondered if I was still in a dream of a man who was dreaming of me.
For I've lived thousands of lives and manifested thousands of selves and yet not of them was truely me. Not one
was truely me, but is not the self the thing that make me be ?

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