Once upon a time in a faraway land that lay just south of the North Star there lived a special people. These were a good people, skilled with their hands and at one with the flowers, trees and animals that they shared their country with. Not only were they skilled at making things from the rocks and trees and other bounties of nature around them – they had a special skill in making words. They did not make them often and only the most experienced among them took on the tasks of making words when they saw something special in the world and heavens around them. It took a lot of time and care to make good words – but these were a patient and respectful people and they did not give up until the words they made were as perfect in every way as they could make it.
And so it was that this special little society grew and flourished for with every true and wondrous word they created, their skills and their understanding of the world they lived in grew greatly.
One day several of the younger and more adventurous among them suggested that they should share this bounty of great and enriching words with the peoples of other lands. Perhaps the people of other lands would share their gift of words with them and together they would grow richer and more gifted. They would understand more of the world and the heavens and they would be able to reveal and carve more great words of wisdom from the worlds surrounding them.
The best and most spirited and faithful among them were chosen and the best and greatest of the words were carefully wrapped for the journey. They set out with promise in their hearts and joy and wonder in their minds about the worlds they would see, the people they would meet and the new and un-thought of words they would find and bring back.
The little band traveled far and wide – they met many little groups of people. Some were wise and gentle like them selves and others were primitive and closed and scared. They shared without thought of reward however for they knew that for every word they gifted away another was born in their land south of the North Star. And they traveled on with joy and hope.
Over the years the band of traveling friends had taken different ways as they had thought that in that way they would meet more societies and learn more in less time. As they traveled sometimes their paths would cross and old friends would spend an evening or two with great happiness telling stories of their travels and adventures. In time however they began to find words of sorrow and confusion in their stories. They found that their understanding and intimacy with their words and the words they had found on their travels had weakened and become hazy. They found cheap copies of their great and beautiful words being made in different villages. They began to lose their feeling of wonder and skill of seeing great words in the stones and trees, clouds and birds and animals and flowers they passed.
Over the years the little band of people started to turn around one by one and head home. But the further they traveled searching for their home the more they found that the world had changed. It was overrun with words – cheap, hollow, untrue imitations and inventions. All the true paths and stars were obscured. The people used the words indiscriminately, without regard for meaning or well-being. Words both good and bad were abused and cast away like the refuse at the end of a drunken feast.
The few friends who still survived – were lost and finding it more and more difficult to see their path home through the good words. After a time they too were lost in memory and they disappeared and with them was lost the way to the land to the south of the North Star.
The world and the heavens around us are now awash with dark and vengeful words. All around they clamor and mislead, they wound and deceive, lie and lay waste. Among them a deaf and uncomprehending people wander about believing that they have magically gained this skill of making words. They spew them out without care or concern. They live in a drunken stupor of malicious words – unknowing and incapable of knowing what treasure has been lost; oblivious that they are homeless; uncomprehending that they are choking to death on their own counterfeit inventions; un-seeing that their illegitimate words are sinking into an ever more incestuous and infertile sea of make believe. We are condemned now to a world where meaning and confusion have become one and the lodestone of true words is lost.
But sometimes, just before the stars say goodnight and morning breaks – when the world is silent for just a brief moment if you still your heart and look towards the morning star your ears may hear the ancient song of these good and true words. One here, one there – lost, searching and yet, still bringing to this world the gift of meaning and the magic of seeing.
So dear friends as you go about your life; may your wishes and your search be rewarded with the very best. May you and your loved ones be safe; may your words bring you strength and solace.
And, if in your travels one clear morning, before your sleeping is done and waking begun, you hear an unfamiliar song of seeing – listen well; for you may have come upon one of these great and wonderful words discarded and dusty in some corner. Find it, wrap it well, bring it home and give it a quiet place in the garden of your heart. Care for it well, for it just may be one of the words that will show us the way home to our land just south of the North Star.
