A NIGHTINGALE'S MISTAKE

circa 1901

from the "Short Essays" composition book of my grandmother,

Eleanor S. Thayer, 1893-1969

     Once upon a time there was a nightingale who was singing and she sung a few notes wrong.  She was very much ashamed when she found that the lark and dove had heard her.  Her face flushed as the lark went by her and she wished her life would go on faster.

     The dove came by and and told her not to mind about those notes which she sung wrong but to go on singing.  Then the nightingale took her head out from under her wing and never did a bird sing better.  The people and all the birds listened.

That's word-for-word what my 8-year-old grandma wrote when she was a "scholar" in a one-room-schoolhouse in Randolph Center, Vermont.  How could she know that 110 years later her granddaughter would find inspiration in her essay to start a blog?  So here I go, Nana!  I'm taking my head out from under my wing and I'm going to go on singing...

VOICE

     Once upon a time there lived a little girl in a family with her mother, father and her older brother. When the little girl went to Kindergarten, the teacher was worried that she didn't talk. You see, the little girl liked to test the water before she jumped in. Some people would call that "painfully shy". One night at the dinner table, the little girl had heard about all she could stand of the teacher's concern for her. She stood up, shook her finger at her brother and said, "Listen, brother! You're not the ONLY talker in this family!" Having said her peace, she sat down and quietly finished her meal.

 

CREATION MYTH

2012

written as an assignment for Master of Arts in Oral Traditions

at the Graduate Institute

The ancient brown sailboat sits on the beach like an old friend, beckoning me to cross the water to explore my magical island once again.   I set out over the still waters at nighttime, stopping to gaze at the full moon’s reflection in the water.  The wind kicks up and the waters became choppy as I arrive at the shore.  I climb out of the boat and make my way to the sandy beach.  I look up; Peacock stands in a tree waiting for me.  He descends to meet me on the beach; we bow to one another.  I ask Peacock to help me find the Island Storyteller.  There is no rush.  First we will visit the three magical places on the island that we have visited before.  This, I know, must be done before I can ask my question of the Island Storyteller. 

The visit to the three spots on the island is a ritual performed by two old friends.  We know each other well and we travel together as one. 

First we climb to the hut:  a tall wooden structure at the top of a cliff.   I stand on the front step for a time to view the infinite ocean.  Nearby a waterfall flows and crashes over the rocks below.  Once inside, Peacock hands me a small bottle filled with holy water.  He asks me to take a few drops and let them wash over me.  They are the Pain of Life, the Pain of the Earth.  I am at peace knowing that I am safe here.  I can feel the Pain, but I am not overcome by it.  Time does not exist, only peace in knowing the Pain.

Peacock takes me to the pool at the base of the waterfall.  He wants me to stand under the waterfall and be cleansed by the pure, cool water.  As I stand under the falls I can feel the Pain of the holy water and the cool, crisp splashing of the falls at the same time.   

We travel to the far side of the island to visit the fish.  I have seen these fish before and have been infatuated by their beautiful blue-green-purpleness.   Iridescent scales flash as the fish jump and pirouette above the surface of the water.  Peacock and I gently enter the water.  The fish swarm to greet us, turning and leaping around our legs like hundreds of puppies bounding in the water.  I sit in the water and play:  endless Joy.  

Time has passed and I look at Peacock.  I know that we will go now to visit the Island Storyteller.  We wade out of the water and across the beach toward the island forest.   At the edge of the thick growth we stop.  I expect to see an old man sitting at the base of a tree, but Peacock shows me that this tall, rough tree that we are facing is the Island Storyteller.  I greet him and ask him to tell me how this beautiful island came to be. 

Here is what Storyteller Tree told me:

“Fog….it was fog.  If you had been sailing in your boat, you wouldn’t have known where the water ended and the sky began.  The One was the fog.  The One was All.  He was full:  spinning Energy-Love-Joy.   The One filled until He could hold no more.  A fireball of Love and Joy burst from His heart.  The fog burned off and the horizon appeared, separating water and sky.  The One saw this and cried tears of Joy.  His tears entered the water and became the beautiful fish, the ones that you were just playing with.  They are His Joy.  Fish played and the One loved them.  He wanted them to have one to love, so he reached his hands into the water.  He held the water.  As He caressed it, His hands grew into the ocean floor and the land.  He lifted up the ocean floor right here to make this island.  His hand is underneath us now; it is Love.  He made this island as a home for Peacock – one for the fish to love.  He sent Peacock to the island.  Peacock and Fish played:  Love and Joy.  Peacock saw that the island was all dirt.  Peacock was the one who shaped the cliff, the rocks, the waterfall; he built the hut at the top of the cliff.  He did this for you so that you would have this world on the other side – a place to love within yourself.”

I don’t know how much time passes as I absorb this story.  I feel that it will be time to leave soon, but I have one more question for the Island Storyteller.  I ask him how he came to be since Peacock had not made him.  Storyteller Tree said, “I am you.”

I stand in stillness, feeling intense gratitude to Peacock for creating the beautiful spaces on the island for me.  I am awed by Storyteller Tree’s words, “I am you.”

Peacock and I thank Storyteller Tree.   Peacock lets me know that we will visit our three spots again before I leave.  We sit in the water and play with the Joy-Fish.  We visit the waterfall.  Peacock stands by me as I am washed in the sparkling clear water.  We climb to the hut and I put on the holy drops of Pain.  I wear it peacefully and feel Pain as part of life –  part of the One-ness.   We walk down to the beach and say our goodbyes.  I am reluctant to leave, but I climb in my boat and sail back to this side.  It helps to remember that the island is always there and my boat waits for me on the beach.