In the time before change, there were no seasons, no sun or rain, no night and day, no up and down, no forests, mountains, lakes and streams, no before or after. Heat and cold, and water, wind earth and clouds -- all were as one and alike as like.
The animals gathered together in a big pow-wow to discuss the state of things.
“It is what it is” pronounced Bear. But in the stillness there he and the other animals gathered there wondered, what could it be? So Bear said, “I’m the biggest and strongest, so the world should be as me. It should be strong, and heavy and solid and we can each and every one of us live in a warm cave.”
Eagle shook his long beaked head from side to side, and pierced them with his gaze. And then Eagle said, “I am most fierce, and move with ominous grace like a shadow over the land, and see as far as forever. I ask, who could possibly want to be confined in a cave in the depths of the dank, hard earth. No, I say what It all should be is free, free as air.”
Many of the animals nodded in agreement, especially the ones with wings.
But then Salmon spoke up and said, “I am the sleek one who roams far without legs and glides without wings, I, who have the strength to overcome and the will to endure, say this: An earthly cave is not fit for those who must wander, and the winds are fickle, and blow this way and that. The answer, as I see it is not in the warm dark earth where all things grow, or the air that knows no limits or height, but in depth. What It all should All be, is water.
Chipmunk said, “I’m the smallest, and … well, you guys decide.”
Raven said to herself, I may or may not be the most clever of all the animals1, but I’m definitely smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
And on and on it went, and no one could agree what the world should be, if things were indeed going to change and become. So It stayed what It was.
And Bear went away and all the earth went with him and surrounded him in a warm cave, and he slept.
And Eagle flew off and the winds went with him, under his broad feathered wings.
And Salmon swam away, and the waters flowed and followed.
And the animals that were left, Squirrel, and Skunk and Coyote and Raccoon and Duck and the rest, they all agreed that maybe It is what It is, but this definitely just won’t do. And the Raven spoke up, finally and clearing her throat said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“What is it, What is it?” the animals asked, because they knew she was most clever.
“I have a sense that there’s Something out there in the middle of all that Nothing.”
And then she took off and as she started to fly she called back. “I’ll be back, but don’t wait up.” And she flew and she flew and she flew. She travelled far past the the darkness that was beyond night. She flew way past up and further than beyond, not stopping to consider what happens before and after. She flew and she flew until she came to that place where Everything stops and Nothing begins. In the distance, way out there in the middle of Nothing she saw something. It beckoned and winked. “There is is; I knew it; I’m right.” It was a single point of fiery bright light, flashing off and on, almost like it was signaling to her. But she could go no further. Because she was stuck behind the dam that keep all that terrible Nothing at bay.
The resident damkeeper stepped out of his lodge.
Beaver said, “Who goes there?” Because that’s the kind of thing damkeepers say.
“It’s Raven. I know you’re busy, Beaver. Sorry to disturb you.”
“Oh, hello Raven.”
And Raven told Beaver of all that had transpired at the pow-wow. And how she had this idea, more of a sudden intuitive certainty, really that there was Something out there in all this Nothing and that with it she could change Everything.
Beaver said, that’s fine, “But you need to answer three questions to pass, or else I wouldn’t be a very good damkeeper.”
“Okay, ask away,” said Raven.
Beaver asked the first question. “What is wisdom?”
Raven thought for a second and said “To know.”
“Yes, but know what?”
Raven, “To know … that you don’t?”
Beaver checked his clipboard and said, “Sure, that works.”
Raven breathed a sigh of relief.
“Next question,” said Beaver. “What is the highest good?”
Raven replied, “That which is eternally true, never fades, is inextinguishable, inexhaustible, self-sustaining and never consumed by its own devices, actions or desires.”
“Hmmmm … let’s see,” said Beaver, checking the key against the ledger and the archive, and subsequently cross-referencing footnotes. Raven fidgeted and preened her wings while she waited and it did indeed seem to take a long time. Finally Beaver said, “Close enough. Okay, here’s the third question. This one’s for all the marbles. You ready?”
“Fire away,” said Raven.
“Who has the most?”
“Hmmmm” said Raven. “That’s easy. They have the most who want the least.”
Beaver bowed in appreciation. “You may pass.” And Raven flew off into the Nothing beyond Everything toward the light that blinked like a signal, beckoning her on and on through a darkness much darker than night.
As she flew, her wings grew more tired with every stroke. The light blinked steadily, but seemed to grow no closer. Still, she seemed to draw some strength and encouragement – just enough to go on, even though her wings were heavy, her stomach was empty and her mind at times played unkind tricks and told her bad things that were not.
She kept her eye on the light and flew on and on, until she finally arrived at the center of all that Nothing and that’s where Thunderbird had his Nest.
And what was the blinking, twinkling light, but the flash of lightning that sparked from his beak as he slept there, breathing slowly in and out. In and out. In and out.
Raven alighted very close and waited. Thunderbird did not awaken.
She hopped and a little closer and waited. Still, Thunderbird did not awaken.
She hopped once again, so close that she could smell his dry crackling smell and her very feathers seemed to stand on end. Raven was perched very, very close to Thunderbird’s nest, and still, Thunderbird slept on, with the spark of lightning flashing from his beak with each breath. In, and out. In and out. In and out.
Raven thought to herself, "Well, I have come all this way. There’s no turning back now. Here goes Nothing.”
And quick as a flash she pecked out with her beak and stole just a little tiny spark from the beak of Thunderbird and away she flew as fast as she could on tired wings. And while she was flying she thought, “Now what?”
Because now change had come and Thunderbird was awake too, and not very happy to have some of his lightening filched. He spread his wings, as wide as dawn of a summer and rose.
For every beat of Thunderbird’s mighty wings, Raven flapped ten-thousand times. Still, he gained. And by the time she got back to where the animals had gathered, Thunderbird was right o her tail. The animals asked, what did you bring back? And as she opened her beak to speak, the animals covered their eyes, for her words were bright.
“Thunderbird is coming! Duck!”
And everyone ducked.
And she said, “No, Duck! Come here! Hide this!” And she gave the spark to duck.
Meanwhile, with each flap of his mighty wings, Thunderbird grew closer. And with each flap of his wings, Everything shook and rattled and the animals covered their ears, terrified.
Thunderbird said in voice like a tornado, “Where is my spark you stole! I will blow it out!”
With a thunderous flap of his wings, the winds howled.
Then, with a voice like an earthqake, Thunderbird said, “Where is my spark that you stole, I will bury it under the earth!”
With a mighty flap of his wings, the valleys opened, and the mountains grew out of the plains.
And finally, for he was really losing patience, Thunderbird said in a deafening voice like the sound of ten-thousand waterfalls “Where is my spark you stole! I will douse it with rain that will fall like a river!”
And with another thunderous flap of his wings, a deluge came, and the world was aflood and the streams flowed, making lakes and rivers and the ocean itself.
Duck put his head under the water, and Thunderbird could not find the spark, no matter how hard he tried and the spark went out into water.
Change had come, and the season began and the forests and flowers grew and nothing was alike and with everything was beautifully diverse because of the water was charged with the light and now Everything had just a little bit of the spark in it.
And all the Animals learned that to Change is to Become, and that’s what was meant to be, and it all works together just so.
And you should know should that every time you see a duck on the lake with his head below the surface and his tailfeathers in the air, he’s hiding from Thunderbird.
And every time you hear Raven caw, know that the reason she can’t sing like other birds is she burnt her throat holding that spark in her throat on that long flight back from the middle of Nothing.
Her song was her sacrifice.
So we could all have Everything so beautiful.
The animals gathered together in a big pow-wow to discuss the state of things.
“It is what it is” pronounced Bear. But in the stillness there he and the other animals gathered there wondered, what could it be? So Bear said, “I’m the biggest and strongest, so the world should be as me. It should be strong, and heavy and solid and we can each and every one of us live in a warm cave.”
Eagle shook his long beaked head from side to side, and pierced them with his gaze. And then Eagle said, “I am most fierce, and move with ominous grace like a shadow over the land, and see as far as forever. I ask, who could possibly want to be confined in a cave in the depths of the dank, hard earth. No, I say what It all should be is free, free as air.”
Many of the animals nodded in agreement, especially the ones with wings.
But then Salmon spoke up and said, “I am the sleek one who roams far without legs and glides without wings, I, who have the strength to overcome and the will to endure, say this: An earthly cave is not fit for those who must wander, and the winds are fickle, and blow this way and that. The answer, as I see it is not in the warm dark earth where all things grow, or the air that knows no limits or height, but in depth. What It all should All be, is water.
Chipmunk said, “I’m the smallest, and … well, you guys decide.”
Raven said to herself, I may or may not be the most clever of all the animals1, but I’m definitely smart enough to keep my mouth shut.
And on and on it went, and no one could agree what the world should be, if things were indeed going to change and become. So It stayed what It was.
And Bear went away and all the earth went with him and surrounded him in a warm cave, and he slept.
And Eagle flew off and the winds went with him, under his broad feathered wings.
And Salmon swam away, and the waters flowed and followed.
And the animals that were left, Squirrel, and Skunk and Coyote and Raccoon and Duck and the rest, they all agreed that maybe It is what It is, but this definitely just won’t do. And the Raven spoke up, finally and clearing her throat said, “I’ve got an idea.”
“What is it, What is it?” the animals asked, because they knew she was most clever.
“I have a sense that there’s Something out there in the middle of all that Nothing.”
And then she took off and as she started to fly she called back. “I’ll be back, but don’t wait up.” And she flew and she flew and she flew. She travelled far past the the darkness that was beyond night. She flew way past up and further than beyond, not stopping to consider what happens before and after. She flew and she flew until she came to that place where Everything stops and Nothing begins. In the distance, way out there in the middle of Nothing she saw something. It beckoned and winked. “There is is; I knew it; I’m right.” It was a single point of fiery bright light, flashing off and on, almost like it was signaling to her. But she could go no further. Because she was stuck behind the dam that keep all that terrible Nothing at bay.
The resident damkeeper stepped out of his lodge.
Beaver said, “Who goes there?” Because that’s the kind of thing damkeepers say.
“It’s Raven. I know you’re busy, Beaver. Sorry to disturb you.”
“Oh, hello Raven.”
And Raven told Beaver of all that had transpired at the pow-wow. And how she had this idea, more of a sudden intuitive certainty, really that there was Something out there in all this Nothing and that with it she could change Everything.
Beaver said, that’s fine, “But you need to answer three questions to pass, or else I wouldn’t be a very good damkeeper.”
“Okay, ask away,” said Raven.
Beaver asked the first question. “What is wisdom?”
Raven thought for a second and said “To know.”
“Yes, but know what?”
Raven, “To know … that you don’t?”
Beaver checked his clipboard and said, “Sure, that works.”
Raven breathed a sigh of relief.
“Next question,” said Beaver. “What is the highest good?”
Raven replied, “That which is eternally true, never fades, is inextinguishable, inexhaustible, self-sustaining and never consumed by its own devices, actions or desires.”
“Hmmmm … let’s see,” said Beaver, checking the key against the ledger and the archive, and subsequently cross-referencing footnotes. Raven fidgeted and preened her wings while she waited and it did indeed seem to take a long time. Finally Beaver said, “Close enough. Okay, here’s the third question. This one’s for all the marbles. You ready?”
“Fire away,” said Raven.
“Who has the most?”
“Hmmmm” said Raven. “That’s easy. They have the most who want the least.”
Beaver bowed in appreciation. “You may pass.” And Raven flew off into the Nothing beyond Everything toward the light that blinked like a signal, beckoning her on and on through a darkness much darker than night.
As she flew, her wings grew more tired with every stroke. The light blinked steadily, but seemed to grow no closer. Still, she seemed to draw some strength and encouragement – just enough to go on, even though her wings were heavy, her stomach was empty and her mind at times played unkind tricks and told her bad things that were not.
She kept her eye on the light and flew on and on, until she finally arrived at the center of all that Nothing and that’s where Thunderbird had his Nest.
And what was the blinking, twinkling light, but the flash of lightning that sparked from his beak as he slept there, breathing slowly in and out. In and out. In and out.
Raven alighted very close and waited. Thunderbird did not awaken.
She hopped and a little closer and waited. Still, Thunderbird did not awaken.
She hopped once again, so close that she could smell his dry crackling smell and her very feathers seemed to stand on end. Raven was perched very, very close to Thunderbird’s nest, and still, Thunderbird slept on, with the spark of lightning flashing from his beak with each breath. In, and out. In and out. In and out.
Raven thought to herself, "Well, I have come all this way. There’s no turning back now. Here goes Nothing.”
And quick as a flash she pecked out with her beak and stole just a little tiny spark from the beak of Thunderbird and away she flew as fast as she could on tired wings. And while she was flying she thought, “Now what?”
Because now change had come and Thunderbird was awake too, and not very happy to have some of his lightening filched. He spread his wings, as wide as dawn of a summer and rose.
For every beat of Thunderbird’s mighty wings, Raven flapped ten-thousand times. Still, he gained. And by the time she got back to where the animals had gathered, Thunderbird was right o her tail. The animals asked, what did you bring back? And as she opened her beak to speak, the animals covered their eyes, for her words were bright.
“Thunderbird is coming! Duck!”
And everyone ducked.
And she said, “No, Duck! Come here! Hide this!” And she gave the spark to duck.
Meanwhile, with each flap of his mighty wings, Thunderbird grew closer. And with each flap of his wings, Everything shook and rattled and the animals covered their ears, terrified.
Thunderbird said in voice like a tornado, “Where is my spark you stole! I will blow it out!”
With a thunderous flap of his wings, the winds howled.
Then, with a voice like an earthqake, Thunderbird said, “Where is my spark that you stole, I will bury it under the earth!”
With a mighty flap of his wings, the valleys opened, and the mountains grew out of the plains.
And finally, for he was really losing patience, Thunderbird said in a deafening voice like the sound of ten-thousand waterfalls “Where is my spark you stole! I will douse it with rain that will fall like a river!”
And with another thunderous flap of his wings, a deluge came, and the world was aflood and the streams flowed, making lakes and rivers and the ocean itself.
Duck put his head under the water, and Thunderbird could not find the spark, no matter how hard he tried and the spark went out into water.
Change had come, and the season began and the forests and flowers grew and nothing was alike and with everything was beautifully diverse because of the water was charged with the light and now Everything had just a little bit of the spark in it.
And all the Animals learned that to Change is to Become, and that’s what was meant to be, and it all works together just so.
And you should know should that every time you see a duck on the lake with his head below the surface and his tailfeathers in the air, he’s hiding from Thunderbird.
And every time you hear Raven caw, know that the reason she can’t sing like other birds is she burnt her throat holding that spark in her throat on that long flight back from the middle of Nothing.
Her song was her sacrifice.
So we could all have Everything so beautiful.