Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Old Turtle and the Broken Truth



Old Turtle and the Broken Truth
To all who seek truths and who
Listen to the language of breezes.
(And turtles)
~ Douglas Wood

Once, in a beautiful, faraway land…
that was, somehow, not so very far..

A land where every stone was a teacher
and every breeze a language,
where every lake was a mirror
and every tree a ladder to the stars,

Into this far and lovely land there fell…
a truth.

It streaked down from the stars, trailing
a tail as long as the sky.

But as it fell, it broke.

One of the pieces blazed off through the night sky,
and the other fell to earth in the beautiful land.

In the morning, Crow found the fallen piece.  It
seemed to be a sort of stone, shiny and pleasing to
the eye.  He picked it up.

“This is a lovely truth,” said Crow. “I will keep
it." And he carried it away.  But after he had held it
for awhile, and examined it closely, Crow said,
“This truth does not feel quite right.  A part of it is
missing.  I will look for the whole one.”  He flew off
and dropped it to the ground.

Other creatures who liked shiny things soon
noticed the truth as well… Fox, Coyote, Raccoon,
each picked it up and carried it awhile.  But they,
too, found that it had rough edges and was
difficult to carry, and its sparkle soon lost its
appeal.  “We do not need this broken truth,”
they said.  “We will find a whole one.”

Butterfly and Bear also discovered the truth,
drawn by its sweetness.  But each found that it left
a bitter taste after all.  “There is something missing
in this truth,” they thought.  And they left it alone.

After awhile, none of the creatures even noticed
the broken truth anymore, and it lay on the
ground, forgotten.

Then a human being found it.

He was walking slowly, listening to breezes,
gazing at beauties above and below and all around
him, when he found the broken truth.  On it was
writing, and the writing said: “You Are Loved.”

The man held it carefully, thinking it was the
loveliest thing he had ever seen.  He tucked the
broken truth into a safe place and kept it.

Sometimes he would take it out and admire it. And
the truth sparkled just for him, and whispered it
message to him alone. And the man thought he
had never felt so proud and so happy.

The man took the wonderful truth to his
people… those who lived with him, who spoke as
he spoke and dressed as he dressed and whose faces
looked like his. And together they cherished their
newfound truth and believed in it. They hugged it
to themselves and it became their most important
possession.

After awhile, the man and his people did not
hear the language of breezes and stones anymore,
but heard only their truth.  They did not see the
mirrored beauty in the lakes, or the ladders to the
stars, but saw only their sparkling truth. And for
them, it was enough.

And they called it…
          THE TRUTH.

The Truth made the people feel good and proud
and strong.  But soon they also began to feel fear
and even anger toward those who were not like
themselves and did not share their truth. The other
beings and other people of the lovely land seemed
less and less important. And the language of the
breezes was hardly ever heard anymore.

Time passed, and other people said, “We must
have this Great Truth for ourselves, for with it
comes happiness and power.”

Many battles were fought, and the broken
truth was won and lost, won and lost, over and
over again.  But such was its power and beauty
that no one ever doubted it, and when they were
without it, they felt a great emptiness where their
truth had been.

The stones and trees suffered.  The breezes
and waters suffered, and the animals, and the
earth… And most of all, the people suffered.

Finally, the animals went to Old Turtle…
Ancient and wise as the mountains and seas
themselves.  Crow and Fox went.  Coyote when.
Raccoon, Butterfly, Bear, and many others.  All
went to see Old Turtle.

“This truth the people quarrel over,” they said,
“we have all held it ourselves. It is broken and does
not work.  Please tell the people.”

“I am sorry,” answered Old Turtle, “but the
people will not listen. They are not yet ready.”

And the suffering continued…

Until one day…  a Little Girl came to find
Old Turtle. She had traveled very far, had crossed
the Mountains of Imagining and the River of
Wondering Why, had found her way through the
Forest of Finding Out.  And when she had grown
tired, she had ridden on the backs of animals or the
wings of birds, and they had helped her find her
way.

Finally they came to a great hill in the very
center of the world.  From there, the Little Girl
thought she had never seen so far, or seen so much
beauty.

But when she saw Old Turtle, she could hardly
speak.  She simply looked with eyes full of wonder.
“Why have you come so far to find me, Little
One?” asked Old Turtle.  Her voice rumbled like far
away thunder, but was soft as the breeze through a
caterpillar’s whiskers.

“I… I wanted to ask a question,” answered
the Little Girl.  “Where I live, the earth is sore, and
people are suffering.  Battles are fought, over and
over again.  People say it has always been this way
and will never change.  Can it change, Old Turtle? 
Can we make it change?”

Old Turtle spoke. “The world you describe is
not the world that has always been, Little One.”

Then Old Turtle told of how the people had
found the broken truth, and the suffering it had
caused.

“It is because it is so close to a great, whole
truth that it has such beauty, and that the people
love it so,” said Old Turtle. “It is the lost portion of
that broken truth that the people need, if the world
is to be made whole again.”

“But where is the missing piece?” asked the
Little Girl.  “Can we put the truth back together
again?”

“First, my child,” said Old Turtle, “remember
that there are truths all around us, and within us. 

They twinkle in the night sky and bloom upon the
earth.  They fall upon us every day, silent as the
snow and gentle as the rain;  The  people, clutching
their one truth, forget that it is a part of all the
small and lovely truths of life.  They no longer see
these truths, no longer hear them.

“But… perhaps, Little One, you can…”
“I… I’ll try,” said the Little Girl.

And she though once more of her long
journey.  She looked upon all the beauty that
surrounded her, from the far hills to the flowers
beneath her feet.  She saw the movement of clouds
and the soaring of birds and the dancing of light
upon the green and living earth.  She heard the
whispering of a breeze.

And gradually… a feeling came over her, as
though all the world were made of truths.  As if the
world had been made just for her and she had been
made for it.  And she felt a secret smile somewhere
deep inside… and thought that, perhaps, she
understood.

She looked once again at Old Turtle, her eyes
more filled with wonder than before.

Old Turtle spoke again.

“Remember this also, Little One,” she said.
“The Broken Truth, and life itself, will be mended
only when one person meets another… someone
from a different place or with a different face or
different ways… and sees and hears… herself. 

Only then will the people know that every person,
every being, is important, and that the world was
made for each of us.”

For a long time then the two friends were quiet,
high on their hill in the very center of the world. 

And in her heart the Little Girl thought she could
see other people in other beautiful lands, people
with their own ways, their own truths… people
different from her own, but still, somehow, The
People.

Finally, the Little Girl asked one more question. 
“Old Turtle, how will the people learn these
things?”

“By seeking out those small and simple truths
all around them,” said Old Turtle.  “By listening
once more to the language of breezes, by learning
lessons from stones and animals and trees and stars.
Even turtles,” she chuckled, “and little girls.”

“Now, Little One, it is time for you to go, to
return to your people and tell them what you have
seen and learned, and to help them mend their
Broken Truth.

Take this with you,” said Old Turtle, as she
placed something in the Little Girl’s hand.  “I have
saved it for a very long time, for someone just like
you.”

The Little Girl looked at what Old Turtle had
given her.  It was a kind of stone, a mysterious,
beautiful stone.  It was lovely to touch, and it made
her feel good to hold it.

She squeezed it tightly, then tucked it away for
her journey.

“Thank you, Old Turtle,” she said, and hugged
her friend’s great, leathery neck.

And then she started home.

Once more she traveled through the Forest of
Finding out, crossed the River of Wondering Why
and the Mountains of Imagining.  Crow let the
way, and again when the Little Girl grew tired, all
her animal friends helped.  She sometimes touched
the stone Old Turtle had given her to renew her
strength.  And it took a long time yet almost no
time at all…

And she was home.

But it had been a very long journey, and those
who take great journeys of the heart are changed.

The people did not recognize her.  And when
she spoke, they did not understand.  She told them
of her journey, but the people could not follow her
words.  She spoke of a world made of small and
gentle truths, of all the peoples… being one People. 

But they could not catch her meaning.  She
explained about the Broken Truth and the need to
make it whole.  But the people did not believe her,
and could not understand.

Finally, Crow, seeing all that had happened, flew
to the place high above the village where the Great
Truth was kept, in a place where all could see it.  He
cawed and cawed in his loudest voice.  And
suddenly the Little Girl knew what to do.  She
climbed to the high place herself.  She took Old
Turtle’s stone from her pocket and… carefully…
added the missing piece to the old, broken one.

The fit was perfect.

The people looked… and looked… and looked.

Some frowned. Some smiled.  Some even laughed.  And some cried.

And they began to understand.

Time passed and upon the beautiful land the
trees climbed like ladders to the stars, the waters
shone like mirrors, and the people saw their beauty. 

A breeze stirred and they heard its music.  Tiny
truth fell by day and night, gentle as the rain and
snow, and the people found them and kept them in
their hearts.

And slowly, as the people met other people
different from themselves, they began to see…
THEMSELVES

And far away, on a hill
in the very center of the world…

Old Turtle smiled.

No comments:

Post a Comment