So there We are, attending to RhinoBusiness, when what should loom onto the horizon but an Elephant. Ta-da, Elephant.
Elephants are all very well, but they have very little sense of humor, if you ask Us. Small doses go a long way when it comes to Elephants. They are not into pranks, for sure, for sure.
Rhinos probably have a few shortcomings, but then again, maybe not.
Ask an Elephant.
A new website, which should enthrall all sensible critters. <rhinos.org>. It certainly held our attention, which is no mean trick.
Neat.
Rhino memories stick with Us, each like an amulet, with associated connotations and scents. Each memory bead is a full-circle story unto itself, filled with individual meaning. Some may shine or glitter more than others, but each is a part of the collection We each hold dear. Yea, cling to, defining Us.
Speaking of which, isn’t it odd how We hold onto memories that stink? Why is that?
We assume that your home libraries hold many volumes on The Rhinoceros. Naturally, why wouldn’t they?
Rhinos can’t read, but then, these books are not meant for Us, so We don’t mourn the limitation. Packed with facts and opinions and research and statistics, they must be honored for what they cover and the effort they represent.
We at Your Inner Rhino are doing our best to address the areas that do not hold these worthy authors’ attention.
No, no- save your applause. It is entirely our pleasure.
54 million years is a long time for a Dynasty to last. We Rhinos have managed it, through good times and less good times in any number of locales and barometric pressures. So a logical question might be, “How did you do it, you Rhinos?”
After a lot of pondering over the millennia We have concluded our success is not based on merit or cleverness or special endurance. If We have received preferential treatment from Nature, all We can grasp is Gratitude and a sense of Awe. Or it could be longterm dumb luck; there is always that option.
The Secret of our Success is a secret, hence the title. Nature knows the answer, but not We.
The happy Sumatran Rhino shows Us a “today” place in the March of Time. Precarious perhaps, but present. Tight squeezes are no novelty for the Rhino Family. “Close” is often good enough; it’s had to be.
The X up top marks Nature’s creation of RhinoHeart, back when. The dotted line shows how We, as a Family, slipped through the cracks from one age to another. Many Rhino gangs did not successfully duck and dodge, but a few have made it, which is all it takes. Rhinos are slippery. And lucky, knock wood.
Compared to other lines and critters, We are a model of Natural Success. Many more groups are gone than have present-day representatives.
Time and History are comical; Rhinos may survive to have the Last Laugh. We’ll see.
We Rhinos (soloists that We are) spend a lot of time talking to ourselves. Sometimes We coddle or berate or persuade ourselves; it varies minute by minute. Anyway you slice it, there’s a lot of chatter inside.
What confounds Us is that We are mostly as poor at listening to ourselves as We are at listening to anybody else.
Perhaps Words are not what Life is all about.
What always confuses Guides is why adolescent Rhinos simply do not avail themselves of the help that sits before them. Guides are there to aid the Quest, to further the Quester’s aims. Heaven knows, their moms remind them often enough.
However, there are experiences which the young Rhino needs, but how those needs are determined is not known, even to the Guides. It is frustrating when help is all one can offer, but the internal gyroscope of the individual will always take precedence.
It’s a rare Youngster who asks for help. Good thing, bad thing? Who knows?
Like putting gas into a car, each Rhino has different sized tanks for incoming information. We don’t all handle it the same way, nor understand its importance or relevance alike. Some of Us are good with one sort of fuel/data, others need a high-test combination. (What’s a metaphor for if it isn’t to abuse it?)
On the outside We are similar, but inside We each have particularious wiring and fuel injection (We can’t stop, even though We aren’t sure what fuel injection is.)
Fill ‘er up?
Dusting powder is what they call it, and what could be better? When We get itchy or buggy, or want to avoid the sun, We just roll around on the ground until We’re all slathered up. Presto, safe and sound.
We look fetching, but that’s just a pleasing extra.
In the Wild, We attend to first things first.
PS: Mud works just as nicely.
Your Inner Rhino 