Some time back, I wrote this piece. Then, as life would have it, I got caught up in my journey here in Viet Nam, leaving the next chapter unwritten. I have some time now, so decided to see where this story might flow. So, I'm republishing the first chapter here to be followed by chapter II.
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This is a story of creatures, seemingly quite small, that
live below the surface of the water, a stream it seems. These water
creatures know this of life, ’Hold on to the giant boulders, always.’
Born, hold on, die. And the generations pass.
Until one day, a creature is born who asks, 'Why? 'Why
do we hold on?' To this, none can find an answer. This is,
quite simply, a fact of life. 'It just is. That's all,'
state the elders. And, they return to their business of holding on.
The one cannot find solace in this answer. 'But,
why?' she asks. They glance at her and smile knowingly. 'She
is young,' they chortle. 'The young ask such silly questions.'
And they return their attentions to the most pressing of community issues.
Paid no heed by the others, she gazes up into the
heavens. There she sees familiar patterns on the liquid sky, the sparkles
that dance in the light and are taken by the dark. ‘Where do the
sparkles go, really?’ she wonders. ‘Why does the dark take them?’
The story, as told by the elders, is that there is an
eternal war between the dark and the light, each stealing the sparkles in turn,
when the other is sleeping. One day, it is told, the dark will steal the
sparkles and hide them where the light can never again find them.
On this triumphant day, a huge celebration is planned.
It will be the day of the creatures’ liberation from the beasts with the gaping
maws that steal the young and swallow them whole. The beasts with the
gaping maws never come in the dark. It is said that their spirits are
taken by the dark along with the sparkles.
Many believe the sparkles are the spirits of the great
beasts. No one knows for sure, but the elders seem quite certain.
And no one questions the elders, except the one.
She knows better, has been told to stay quiet, has been
taught the ways along with all the other young. But, the questions still
come, begging for answers. She senses there is more.
Like the sparkles, the questions dance in her mind. ‘There
is more. There is more. But, what is it?’ ‘Why do the
dark and light fight?’ ‘Where does the dark take the sparkles?’
‘If the dark does hide the sparkles forever, will the beasts with the gaping
maws really finally leave us and stop taking our young?’
And the question that sparkles more brightly than any
other… ‘If they leave, can we let go?’
All these questions, she asked the elders. Their
patience waning, they nevertheless answered, believing deeply in their veneered
role of passing wisdom to the young and saving all from the gaping maws of the
beasts. But, when she asked that question, when she asked if they could
let go, the elders flew into a rage.
‘Never!’ they screamed as one. ‘Never shall
you let go!’ ‘Never speak those words again! And never,
never let go!’
The others looked on in shock, holding more tightly to their
rocks, as if the question itself would pry them from their fast hold on life
and all that is. There was a deep quiet that day. The elders
gathered closely, whispering and occasionally glancing back at her, with, it
seemed, a mix of horror and disgust and concern.
Alone, hugging her rock, feeling once again like she was
different, didn’t belong. ‘Why don’t the others wonder these
things? Is there something wrong with me? I am young. They are old
and wise. I am one. They are many. It is me. There is
something wrong with me. Why can’t I be more like them? Why can’t I
just be happy with holding on? Why must these questions steal my
thoughts? What are the answers?!’
And quietly, in the back of her mind, it emerges again, ‘What
would happen if I let go?’
The questions hung on as tenaciously as did the creatures to
their rocks. Despite, or perhaps because of, the increasing rancor of the
elders, the questions gained strength, became alive. And, in their
persistence, they bore yet more questions, leading ultimately to those
forbidden from the mouths of all.
‘Are the elders wrong? Is the wisdom they teach
untrue? Is there, in fact, a different reality?’
Through the perpetual battle of dark and light, she
watched. As the great beasts with the gaping maws stole the young and
those who could no longer hold on, she watched. When the heavens shook
under the pounding of the god’s fists, she watched. And when the raging
currents ripped even the strongest from their rocks and tossed them into the
abyss, she watched.
Her questions, her inability to quiet them, and her
persistence in asking slowly built a chasm between her and the others.
She held now to her own rock, separated from the community. Even her own
young had moved from her to the community, sensing her difference, confused by
her questions, wanting security and friendship. Wanting happiness for her
young, she allowed their migration to the community and thanked the dark for
hiding her tears.
She accepted now her exclusion from the community. The
dark and light had come enough times that she knew her difference was real, and
that she likely would never again be able to stand inside the community.
The chasm between her thoughts and theirs spread wider than the gaping
maws of the beasts and seemed to grow with each passing light and dark.
She sought the quiet, the separation from what she had grown
to recognize as the noise of the elders shaping the reality they wished others
to see. Their work never ended for new were always born and the world
they wished to be quiet continued to shift and change, creating fear and
requiring yet more efforts to pacify and maintain the creatures’ focus on the
rocks.
Apart from the community, she heard her own voice more
clearly. She sought answers to the persistent questions inside her own
being. She learned to listen inside, to trust that perhaps answers could
be found in the quiet of her own heart. As the light and dark passed, so
dawned a new understanding. Yes, she was different. But, that
difference did not make her bad or defective. It made her uniquely who
she was.
And as she gazed at members of the community, she became
aware that each had a unique sparkle. That sparkle was dim for many,
obscured more and more for those who experienced many passing light and darks.
But, it was strong in the young, bright, dancing, vibrating and pulsating
like the sparkles in the heavens. The young would look her way,
recognizing the bright sparkle that surrounded her being, unaware of their own
sparkle and fascinated by a connection they could neither name nor describe,
but which they knew. Often, she would hold their gaze and they would
share a secret smile. And then, noticed by the others, they would be
pulled back within the fold, blocked from her view and taught by the elders.
She had grown to love herself in a way never possible in the
community. She came to believe that she was, in fact, good and that her
uniqueness was not a curse, but a blessing. And she relished the time to
be with her self. But still, there was an ache, a longing and a profound
sense of sorrow that she could never reach far enough to span the chasm between
herself and the community, that she could never again be a part of them. At
times, the aloneness consumed her. Again, she thanked the dark for hiding
her tears.
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