parableofthesower.pdf

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Parable of the Sower
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A Biography of Octavia E. Butler
2024
P
RODIGY IS, AT ITS
essence, adaptability and persistent, positive obsession. Without persistence, what
remains is an enthusiasm of the moment. Without adaptability, what remains may be channeled into
destructive fanaticism. Without positive obsession, there is nothing at all.
EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
by Lauren Oya Olamina
1
All that you touch
You Change.
All that you Change
Changes you.
The only lasting truth
Is Change.
God Is Change.
EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING
Saturday, July 20, 2024
I
HAD MY RECURRING
dream last night. I guess I should have expected it. It comes to me when I
struggle—when I twist on my own personal hook and try to pretend that nothing unusual is happening.
It comes to me when I try to be my father’s daughter. Today is our birthday—my fifteenth and my
father’s fifty-fifth. Tomorrow, I’ll try to please him—him and the community and God. So last night, I
dreamed a reminder that it’s all a lie. I think I need to write about the dream because this particular
lie bothers me so much.
I’m learning to fly, to levitate myself. No one is teaching me. I’m just learning on my own, little by
little, dream lesson by dream lesson. Not a very subtle image, but a persistent one. I’ve had many
lessons, and I’m better at flying than I used to be. I trust my ability more now, but I’m still afraid. I
can’t quite control my directions yet.
I lean forward toward the doorway. It’s a doorway like the one between my room and the hall. It
seems to be a long way from me, but I lean toward it. Holding my body stiff and tense, I let go of
whatever I’m grasping, whatever has kept me from rising or falling so far. And I lean into the air,
straining upward, not moving upward, but not quite falling down either. Then I do begin to move, as
though to slide on the air drifting a few feet above the floor, caught between terror and joy.
I drift toward the doorway. Cool, pale light glows from it. Then I slide a little to the right; and a
little more. I can see that I’m going to miss the door and hit the wall beside it, but I can’t stop or turn.
I drift away from the door, away from the cool glow into another light.
The wall before me is burning. Fire has sprung from nowhere, has eaten in through the wall, has
begun to reach toward me, reach for me. The fire spreads. I drift into it. It blazes up around me. I

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