Friday, November 14, 2014

The Whistle and the Timepiece

     Once upon a time, when the Earth began, the Creator bestowed special gifts upon the world. He wanted the Mother to create the landscape with beauty and sustenance, so He gave her a whistle to create the much needed movement upon the winds and the waters. He wanted the Father to keep watch over time, to cradle the precious moments in his hands, so He gave him a timepiece to cherish all that passes.

     The Mother and Father graciously accepted these gifts and their respective responsibilities. The Mother tied back her long tendrils, careful not to disturb the leaves and sticks nestled within, to attend her duties. She took up the whistle and blew across the mouthpiece sending the winds in motion. Seeds flew from her mouth and out the end of the whistle to be caught in the wind and whisked to all corners of the Earth. Soon the lands were covered in trees, bushes, berries, flowers, fruits, nuts, grasses, and all that cloaks the world with beauty. Once the Mother was pleased with her creation, she turned to the oceans and again blew into the mouthpiece of her whistle across the surface of waters. She was in awe as she watched the wind slide across the waters, pulling it to and fro, into a calm rhythmic motion. The water slinked up the shore and curled around her ankles, leaving her feet a blue iridescent shade as the waters rolled back to the ocean. The Mother wiggled her toes, pleased to see what she had done.
     “What a splendid beauty, Mother,” the Father spoke as he caressed his long white beard over and over again. He rotated the timepiece in his palm, looking over all the intricate details etched upon the metal.

     “Yes, it is. But now you must make it all worthwhile, Father,” the Mother responded. She then took a long strand of grass and tied the whistle around her neck. She patted it carefully with her hand, understanding the power that lies within.
      The Father began to twist a tiny knob clockwise on the back of the timepiece. With each turn around, the waters before them began to move faster. Once the Father recognized this, he stopped his task and began turning the knob counterclockwise. Soon the waters were rolling so softly, he stopped twisting the knob, pleased with the outcome. He watched the face of the timepiece, listening as the hands clicked their way around slowly.

     “That should give the world the time they need to cherish what you have given them,” the Father said with a smile. Wrinkles began to fade from his face and his white hair returned to the stark red it had once been. He placed the timepiece in his pocket, pleased to see what he had done.
     To celebrate their accomplishments, knowing that the Creator would be proud, they decided to frolic across the lands. They ate ripe berries and plump fruits, danced through the forests, warmed in the deserts. They listened to their laughter echo through caves, and climbed the tallest mountains to overlook the Earth in all its perfectness. Once they had experiences every part of the land, the Mother and Father turned to the sea.

     “We should explore the splendor of the rolling waves,” the Mother said. The Father immediately agreed. The Mother removed her whistle from around her neck, placing it carefully on the shore. The Father removed the timepiece from his pocket and set it beside the whistle. Neither wanted their precious gifts to be whisked from their bodies in the constant movements of the waters.

     After they removed their gifts, the Mother and the Father dashed into the waves, splashing and enjoying the coolness of what the oceans had to offer. They both spent a good amount of time swimming and meeting the fish that joined in their fun, losing track the rest of their day. When the sun began to fade, the moon slowly rose into the sky, prompting the Mother and Father to dry themselves off on land.  Once their clothes no longer clung to their bodies, they remember their special gifts and where they had left them.

     “Oh, my!” The mother exclaimed.
     “What has happened?” The Father shouted, fear taking hold of his voice. They were both panicking because their gifts were nowhere to be seen, as the tide had risen and claimed them.
     The Mother and Father searched everywhere on land and in waters, but they could never find the whistle or the timepiece. Sadness filled their hearts, for they knew how heavy this would be upon the Earth.
     Oh, there are still seeds that hitch a ride upon the winds, and the Mother sprinkles seeds upon the grounds as she sings to her surroundings, but she lost the power of the winds. She no longer has as much strength upon the world’s beauty. The winds are now under the power of the whistle that still blows from time to time from another’s lips. The Mother’s cries can be heard in lands where the whistle has blown down houses and destroyed lives, where the waves were coaxed high onto the lands by the unknown whistle blower. She cries knowing that the search for the whistle always leaves her empty handed, grieving for memories of the past.

     The timepiece still ticks, moving time along in its own fashion. However, unsuspecting hands have turned the knob clockwise too many times, leaving our world fast and unhinged. The Father’s hands ache to cradle the moments of the world, but always remain empty. Tears occasionally glide down his wrinkled skin, settling into his snow white beard, tears for a slower time, a time where one could cherish what was around them.
     If one listens closely, the whistle of the wind will graze your ear and send shivers down your spine. The shivers are little moments of Earth’s beauty reconnecting with your bones. Your body remembers how the world once was, just as the Mother does, for you were formed from the mud of the lands.
     If one listens quietly for a moment, the ticking of the timepiece can be felt in sync with your own heartbeat, as the memories of your life unfold within your heart and mind. It is true the world flies by too fast, but the moments are there, waiting to be noticed. 
     Someday the Mother will stumble upon her long lost whistle, and the Father will discover his cherished timepiece, like magnets being pulled closer and closer together. Once they are reunited, the Mother will be forever tied to her whistle, and the Father will be in control of his timepiece for eternity. Until then, we must listen carefully for the whistle in the wind, and the ticking of the hands to remind us of the beauty of the world around us and the wonders of our life.

Written by K, Copyright 2012

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