Burning Bush: “I am that I am.”
Popeye: “Yeah, I’ve said somethin’ like that meself—‘I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.’ But tell me, bush, if you’s what you says, then what am I? Am I what I yam, or am I what you yam?”
Burning Bush: “You are both. You are what you perceive yourself to be, and yet you are also a reflection of Me. The microcosm and the macrocosm are one.”
Popeye: “Micro-macro-what now? Look, I’m just a sailorman. I know the sea, the stars, and the taste o’ spinach. This stuff’s startin’ to sound like double Dutch.”
Burning Bush: “Then let us speak of the sea, sailor. Tell me—what do you see when you look upon the ocean?”
Popeye: “I sees somethin’ big, powerful, and endless. Makes a fella feel small, but also kinda alive, ya know?”
Burning Bush: “And yet, every drop of the ocean contains its essence. The ocean would not be the ocean without its drops, just as you would not be you without Me.”
Popeye: “Huh. So you’re sayin’ the ocean ain’t just water—it’s the whole shebang, includin’ every wave, every tide, every storm?”
Burning Bush: “Precisely. And you, Popeye, are like a sailor upon this infinite sea. You navigate its surface, but its depth is within you.”
Popeye: “A sailor’s only as good as his ship. And lemme tell ya, I’ve been through some storms that made me wonder if the ship—or me—was up to snuff.”
Burning Bush: “The storm tests the sailor, but it also reveals his strength. Do you think the sea and the sailor are separate?”
Popeye: “Well, sure. I’m on the sea, not in it—unless I fall overboard, and then it’s every man for hisself!”
Burning Bush: “Yet without the sea, there would be no sailor. And without the sailor, the sea would not be known. You see, Popeye, the sailor and the sea are two sides of the same existence.”
Popeye: “So you’re sayin’ I ain’t just sailin’ on the ocean—I’m a part o’ it, whether I knows it or not?”
Burning Bush: “Yes. Your being flows from the same source as the ocean’s waves. You are both observer and participant in the vastness of existence.”
Popeye: “Well, blow me down! Never thought o’ it like that. Guess I’m not just a sailorman—I’m part o’ the sea itself!”
Burning Bush: “And the sea, like you, is part of Me. Every wave that rises and falls, every tide that comes and goes, reflects the eternal ‘I am.’”
Popeye: “That’s a lot to take in, bush. Makes a sailorman feel a bit less alone out there on them big waters.”
Burning Bush: “You are never alone, Popeye. The sea carries you, the stars guide you, and I am the wind in your sails. You are both sailor and sea, finite and infinite.”
Popeye: “Guess I ain’t just followin’ the stars—I’m part o’ the whole dang sky. And here I thought spinach was the answer.”
Burning Bush: “Spinach fuels your body, but knowing who you are fuels your soul.”
Popeye: “Thanks, bush. I’ll keep on sailin’—but now I knows I’m sailin’ through somethin’ bigger than the sea.”
Burning Bush: “And with each wave you ride, you bring the ocean closer to knowing itself.”
