Monday, October 21, 2013

The Un-Fairy Tale

Once upon a time. . .those magic words instantly transport a reader to place where loveliness, justice and kindness are the cornerstones of existence.  It is also a place where happy endings are the rule and not the exception. In order for a happy ending to occur, it follows that a period of sadness, tragedy, and darkness must precede. It is in this very darkness that our heroine found herself.

                She awoke as if from a dream and had no supposition concerning the time and location. Neither had she any idea how long she had been in her current location. How had she come to be to this place? It’s such a simple question, but even far wiser, more aged travelers than she would have difficulty in answering it. Sleep, while a soothing tonic for hurt minds and bodies, is by definition a natural suspension of consciousness. One does not need to have her eyes closed in order to be asleep; thus, a slumberer can easily become bewildered and displaced. Such was the case for the woman.

                All around her was an inky blackness, which made it difficult for her to determine the depth and width of her surroundings. Imaginative since birth, her mind immediately began to create scenes on the other side of the black curtain. For the extraordinarily creative and sensitive, such an enterprise can be both good and bad. Since boredom is the ultimate anathema, an active imagination is the antidote. In the same token, such vivid visions can easily turn grotesque, thereby creating fear. Such was the case for the woman, who since childhood, had harbored an undisguised dread of darkness.

                Her only saving grace was a thin shaft of light over her head. A seeming pin hole some distance away, the light created a perfect orb around the area on which she sat. It was from this light that she was able to see that floor was dark brown and either rock or cement. The light was not necessary in order for her to deduce that it was very hard and cold.

                While she collected the sensory details and tried to make sense of them, she heard a noise high above her. It originated from the pinhole of light far above her head. At first, she heard the light scuffling of shoes – like sand being ground in circular patterns on the ceiling. Forgetting her fears, she strained her ears to analyze the rhythmic cadences and concluded that whoever was above her was dancing. Then, soft tinkling of laughter as well as a fine layer of dust drifted downward, covering her head. Encouraged, she smiled and tilted her head toward the light. Surely, there was someone kind above who would be able to hear her and help her.

                A flash of pain jolted her from her reverie. It was her back, by her rib cage. The pain throbbed in time with her heart beat. As she reached around to touch the place, her fingers detected a bump; she knew without looking that it was already red and would quickly form a bruise.  Then, there was a stab of pain on the opposite side on her neck. Her hand instinctively went to her neck, and she spun around to determine the origin.  Then, she felt a grinding twist of pain on her right thigh.

Something or someone was pinching her. As she was reacting to a different pain, a new wound was inflicted from the opposite direction. Wildly, she began to spin in circles, clawing at the air, screaming at whomever or whatever was tormenting her. Once the physical pain subsided, she furtively twisted in all directions, finally collapsing, exhausted and defeated.

For a long while, she wailed and sobbed. At first, there were tears; then, the tears ran out and only the most miserable, inhuman sounds erupted from deep within. A new and different pain emerged from her chest; her heart had broken. It was an utter soul-emptying experience. Never had she felt so alone and desolate. Finally, when sorrow gave way to despair, she lay motionless, her cheek pressed to the cold floor. Just when she thought it was over, a new torment began.

You realize there is no way out, don’t you? No one knows you are here. No one misses you. Do you think someone will help you find your way out? And what would you do even if you found your way out? All around her, voices hissed, and the darkness seemed more ubiquitous than it had ever been. As she clamped her hands over her ears, the voices only seemed to intensify, echoing more loudly and insistently.  Finally exhausted and overwhelmed, she lost consciousness and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep once more.

In her youth, she had always slept soundly and deeply, waking refreshed and rejuvenated. As of late, her nocturnal dormancy was anything but a respite. Often fitful with bouts of insomnia, she began her days in a fog of languid torpor.  Even now, as her eyes opened, her lids felt thick, swollen, and heavy – lingering remnants of her previous melancholy. Her limbs were stiff and achy from the unforgiving stone floor.

Slowly, she lifted herself into a sitting position and morosely scanned her surroundings.  Nothing had changed.

Are you done now?

Since the voice was barely perceptible, she wasn’t sure if she actually had heard someone speak or if it was her imagination at work again.

Almost as if it had read her thoughts, the voice continued, Yes, what you hear is real. Are you ready to listen?

In considering her last experience with who or whatever was out there, the woman slid away from the voice to the edge of the shadows.  Where there was one, others must surely be as well.

There are no others. They have gone. For now, it is only you and me, the voice continued.

Panicking, the woman stood and continued to back away from the voice, moving away from the light and further into the darkness. Confused and suspicious, the woman remembered that the voices had brought pain before; she would rather venture into the unknown than re-live that ordeal.

With the blink of an eye, the lone light source was suddenly extinguished. All around the woman was an impervious wall of black.  Completely disoriented and entirely alone, the woman closed her eyes, as they were entirely useless to her.

In an ordinary circumstance, she would have been alarmed and might have even screamed. However, at the moment, she was oddly apathetic. She had experienced the full gamut of emotions and was therefore, overwrought; there was just nothing left to feel. All of her senses had been sapped. The only one that was currently of use to her was her sense of hearing.

Do I have your full attention now? The voice rang clear and loud; it seemed to be only a few feet away. Come.

The woman stood still and held her breath. A war of indecision raged within. Should she trust the voice and walk toward it, or should she stay still?

What benefit will it be to stay where you are? Nothing will change, and you will still be all alone. All I am asking for you to walk toward me.  Now that you have no choice but to listen, consider my voice. Does it sound like the others you heard earlier?

As she pondered the question, the woman conceded that the voice was calm and soothing where the other voices had been sibilant and harsh. Exhaling slowly, the woman hesitantly took a step toward the voice. . then another. . and another until she heard the voice stay Stop. It sounded mere inches from her face. Sit, please.

The woman obediently lowered herself to the ground. As her hands steadied her body, she was surprised that the patch of concrete was slightly warm.

Yes, you have returned to the place where you were lying earlier. Now, are you ready to leave this place?

Rather than answer, the woman sobbed in anguish. The combined prospect of remaining in torment as well as the anticipation of leaving overwhelmed her, leaving her speechless.

All right. Here is what you need to do. Remove the stones beneath you.

The absurdity of the command caused her to cry harder. Remove stones? There was no way it could be done. She had no tools. She was not strong enough. Since there was now no light, she would not be able to even see what she was doing. Was this cruel mockery?

Tools? Strength? Light? You already have them. Your limited thinking is keeping you from what you desire.  Tools do not just fit inside a hand. Strength is not limited to the body. Light is not perceived only by the eyes.

The woman considered what she had been told. How could she remove the stones? What tools did she possess to aid her in this task? As she thought, images began to form in the darkness. Like negatives on film, the woman saw the stones lift and float upward, one by one, from their resting places on the floor. With the removal of each stone, a dim shaft of light broke through the darkness to the ceiling, ultimately illuminating a staircase that led further underground. Gamely, the woman extended her leg, testing to see if the vision was a mirage. Her foot had, indeed, landed on a step; it was real.

 As she made her way down the staircase, she laughed at the realization. Of course, she had always possessed the necessary tool, which was her imagination. If only she had realized it sooner!  

The farther down the staircase she went, the stronger the light became until she emerged and found herself blinded by the afternoon sun. She was no longer inside the dark, cold cavern; she was in a lush, green meadow. A soft wind whispered through the trees as songbirds and butterflies flitted and frolicked in the warm air.  She sighed contentedly as she sank into the grass beside a small pond.

Although she was happy to be restored to a place of loveliness and beauty, she couldn’t help but think that something was missing. The voice – where had it gone? While it had been loud and strong in the darkness, she had not heard it since she had started down the staircase. In the quiet solitude of her peaceful surroundings, she had strained to hear the voice but heard not even a whisper. How had it known the way out? How had it known that she possessed the tools? How had it known the source of strength and light? How had it known her so well?

Lazily, she picked strands from the grassy knoll as she considered all this. The songs of the birds, the rustle of the wind through the tall grass, and the gentle lapping of the pond lulled her into drowsiness. Soon, she was fast sleep, which, as we have learned, dear reader, can lead to a variety of consequences. . .or adventures, depending on one’s viewpoint.

Undoubtedly, our heroine lived happily ever after, and yet, not in the way fairy tales have traditionally taught one to expect. In order to live happily ever after, our heroine has learned (even though she might not realize it yet) that the darkness (and subsequent sadness and/or tragedy) is necessary and even coveted because it means a reunion with the voice. Without the voice, she can never truly be happy, she can never rise to her true, intended potential, and she can never find the direction she must go. By focusing on and obeying the voice, she will, indeed, live happily ever after.

“And this is the message we have heard from Him and announce to you, that God is light, and in Him, there is no darkness at all.” I John 1: 5     


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