I got up at 2:05 this morning. It is now 4:05 and a great big bear is looking in through my back door at me. So what was I doing with the rest of those two hours besides standing out under the stars? Why, writing a brand new 1,600 word Creation Myth, of course.
(This guy just ain’t normal. He don’t thank like folks orter.):
Knowledge can be hoarded.
Wisdom is a state of sharing.
Mica is telling Sylva a story.
“In ancient times, Ae-hloh-meh, and Izsh-hrit-el walked together. They were friends, or maybe they were mother and daughter. Things didn’t mean the same back then as they do now. This is called a ‘creation myth.’ ‘
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It’s a story of how all things grew solid, and why we don’t seem to know anything anymore. Why there is so much sadness.”
“The world was green, and paths were few. Floating light spirits lived in moss colonies under the trees. The stars turned brightest when everything was its most quiet, so even the leaves could hear them singing.
If we listen really hard on our best nights now days we maybe almost think we can hear them again, but we’re not sure. Back then we were sure. Because all the world was singing. Everything sang, and it poured through us. Life was sweet.
“In those times the rules were quite simple because there really weren’t any.
“Enjoy, appreciate, and share all there is.”
“Those are good rules.”
“Yes. And they still are.”
“Should I stop interrupting?”
“You’re not interrupting, Sweetie. You are helping to tell the story. That’s how things were back then. Everyone helped each other.”
“So the rules were to love everything and don’t keep stuff.”
“I’d say that pretty well sums it up.”
“I like this story. Those are good rules.”
“They don’t really sound much like rules, I guess, do they? It’s just how people lived. How everything was all that it could be, and shared all that it had.”
“Like me and Renn.”
Right. And your parents don’t tell you that you have to be that way; you just share because you love each other, right?”
“And you don’t want to break each other’s stuff on purpose, just to be mean, right?”
“Well, that’s how it was back then. No one told them they had to do; that they had to follow the laws or they’d be punished. They just did it because it was the fun way to be, and everyone got along.”
“That was because those were good rules. Good rules should be fun and not hurt anybody.”
“And did they have books?”
“Back then, you could read the ancient stories in the tree roots. You didn’t have to even know how to spell.”
Sylva asked him, “And did the water and the birds and the fishes talk back then?”
“Birds and waters could talk a little, but fish have never really been very smart.
Sylvie giggled. “No. They’re not.” She ……. “They probably just made bubble mouths and pretended they were talking.
“The reason fish aren’t smart is because they keep doing the same things over and over again. And when you keep doing the same things and don’t learn anything new, then you don’t really have anything much to say.
“Some people don’t know much, and don’t have anything to say, but they talk anyway.”
“But that’s not how it was back then. People knew a lot, and had a lot to say, but it really wasn’t necessary. It was more fun to play and sing, or just be quiet and listen.”
“I like back then.”
“So did I.”
“And did the stars come out in the day time?”
“It wasn’t daytime or nighttime there; it was more like something in between. Your heart decided what it wanted more of.”
“Like when you dream.”
“Exactly. This was exactly like that.”
“I bet your heart could decide lots of things in those days.”
“I’m sure it could.”
“But then we covered it all up.”
“I’m afraid so. Most people did, anyway.”
“Now they don’t know what they can do.”
“And Izsh-hrit-el and Ae-hloh-meh saw this was happening and they were sad. Some people weren’t playing nice anymore. They were forgetting all about who they really were, and how things could be. They wanted stuff to be their stuff, not everybody’s. They kept doing the same things over and over again and forgetting that they could be free.”
“They were becoming like the fish. They kept not trying new things, so they started forgetting,” she added, fully embracing her role as diminutive co-creator of this tale of the time before time.
“I think you may be way ahead of me on this, young friend.”
“I usually am.”
“So what happened? Did they stay lost forever?”
“I hope not. I don’t think so.”
“Somebody had to go look for them. And bring them back.”
“But then who would take care of the gardens?”
“Oh. Right.” She thought about that for a bit. There had to be an answer. This was very important. She screwed up her face and thought hard.
Then she suddenly brightened. “So then only one of them should go,” She told him. “But maybe not, because that would hurt because they were friends. Like me and Renn are.”
“Right. And you wouldn’t want to never see Renn again, would you?”
“So what did they do?”
“Ae-hloh-meh stayed with the gardens so they wouldn’t be all alone and lonely. So all the plants and animals would have human friends and the stars could still sing. But Izsh-hrit-el didn’t want all the human people to stay lost forever, so she went out to where they had made their world so very tiny. She hoped that if she could find them, and if they could see her there among them, then maybe a tiny part of them would remember the singing stars, and how things could be.”
“And they would want to come back.”
“That’s what she hoped, anyway. But by the time she found them they were so sad they just couldn’t see anything else and they didn’t know who she was at all.
“And then, I’m afraid, it got even sadder.”
“Then she forgot, too.”
“Uh-oh. This is not good.” Little Sylva sat there petting a turtle she had found, and even the turtle seemed to be listening. “So what happened? Did they never see each other again?”
“Well, I don’t know. What do you think, Sylvie?”
“Sometimes two people love each other very much, but they have to go different places to do their jobs.”
“So they can’t be together?”
“No, it happens for a while that way sometimes, I’m afraid,” she told him, making a face and trying to sound very adult.
Then her child self told her the truth. She added, “But only in their bodies; not in their Lights. Their Lights don’t go away from each other. Not even when they die. I’ve seen that. Their Lights don’t go away.”
“Hmmm. That is a very interesting thought.”
“Because if they really, really love each other, then wherever they go, they are still inside that same Light that they share. It just stretches bigger.”
“Wow. What a wonderful perception. So they are not really apart even then, you’re saying?”
“Not inside, they’re not. And not outside, in the Light they make. It just gets bigger.”
“That Light still connects them?”
“They’re just sharing, like you said.”
“People say that to me a lot.”
“You are way smart for a little girl. I think maybe you remember the old days.”
“I think I never forgot.”
“So even if it took them a hundred thousand lifetimes, you think they could still get back together?”
“Yup,” she told him. “Or even ten years.”
Mica laughed. “So you think that could still happen to Ae-hloh-meh, and Izsh-hrit-el? Do you think they can still be friends again?”
“I don’t know; what happened to her when she left?”
“She didn’t really leave, actually. She just got lost. That’s the very sad part. She couldn’t think of any way to help them while she was still happy but they had nothing. So Izsh-hrit-el buried herself under layer after layer of nighttime without the stars. It made her heavy, and she couldn’t find her happiness anymore. But at least she could be with them At least she could be with her beloved.”
“Oh, that is so sad.”
“Everything became sad then, and she couldn’t find her way out. So now everyone was lost.”
“But she has to get back; how’s she gonna do that?”
“Well, she has never stopped trying, anyway. But she still refuses to come back without them, and they just will not admit that they are lost, so what can she do? Even when she thought she remembered the Light, and tried to tell them, they wanted to stay where they were. They told her she was wrong.”
“And to just go away.”
“And to just go away. And that hurt her so very much.”
Sylva’s tiny face showed how she hurt for all of them. “But she only did that so she could stay with the lost people. If she didn’t, they could never find their ways back home.”
“That’s right, Sylvie. That is exactly what was happening.
“They were so far from home they started worshiping their darkness. They wanted to own everything, and started hurting each other.”
“That’s just not cool.”
“No. Things are so sad now. But they don’t know why.”
“So why don’t they just follow her back?”
“Because now she’s lost, too, She has been living among them for so long that she has forgotten just about everything.”
“But not quite?”
“Your auntie’s place here is like a doorway where just a little bit of the Light can get through. Maybe she can start to remember while she’s here.”
“Can I help her?”
“I’m afraid not, tiny munchkin. Everyone has to find her door to who she is on her own. Even Izsh-hrit-el.”
“So then we can give her a new name, like I did for her friend, Mr. Crusher.”
“If you like, you can give her a new name.”
“Cause I can’t say that other one.”