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.