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Picture in your mind a precocious Cro-Magnon, who, while strolling through a post-glacial bosky dell, observed chubby little insects crawling in and out of a knothole in a laurel tree. A viscous amber liquid was oozing out of a "wind-shake" crack of the tree. "Og," if he had a name, stuck his finger into the crack and encountered a splinter which stuck into the end of his finger. He immediately applied the finger to his mouth to remove the splinter. The goo surrounding the splinter evoked an exclamation, which a quarter of an eon later, would be translated as "tres bon," "das ist guht," "yum-yum," "Eureka!", "How sweet it is," and other grunts of approval.
Scraping a representative specimen of this taste sensation into his, not doubt urine tanned, "possibles" bag, he set off to the clan cave in order to share this experience with others of his ilk.
By a circuitous route necessitated by various obstacles of nature: high water, land slides and certain flora and fauna which could have endangered his well being. After two hands and one foot of sun light, he arrived at his destination.
"Og," upon arrival at the clan cavern, was greeted by such sounds, signals, and attitudes as would covey such sentiments as "Where the ---- have you been?", "What kept you?", and "Did you bring anything for me?"
"Og," being unable to grunt loudly enough, and being too crowded to gesticulate amidst the "hoipoloi," opened his "possibles" bag, which was noticeably distended from its original shape, and invited one and all to partake of its contents. There were, of course, a number of participants, later know as "double-dippers," whose senses became slightly distorted (somewhat beyond the units of standard deviation), whose attitude later in literate society would engender the "yin and yang" principle.
"Og's" fire ring mate, "Osi" expressed the sentiment that this strange concoction might be useful in cleansing the palate after an engorgement of slightly "high" fish or meat. This received the approbation of a number of cave-mates (who were a representative profile of various and sundry Arts, Skills, and observations comprising much of the available lore of the rather closed society).
The consensus was a resounding, "Let's get some more of the stuff!" indicated by a show of hands.
One observer noted that, "That old rotten sycamore down by the crick has a bunch f those "chubby little stingers" crawling in and out of a rotten spot."
In summation: The "Arts" scratched out plans for attacking the denizens of the sycamore, the "Skills" executed the plans of the "Arts" (resulting in the domestication of the "chubby critters," and the Observers became philosophers.
The whole operation, in a word, "Serendipity."
Thanks to the Bee.
With apologies to: Reuben Goldberg (the division of labor), Sigmund Freud (Id, Ego, and Ergos), Carl Gustav Jung (ancenstral memories and for disagreeing with S. Freud), Orph Gibberson (for doing absolutely nothing).
Dier of Iona, The scribe with the dull stylus (Michael Crabtree)
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