Monday, August 3, 2009

WOOD CRAFTING Installment 4 : Part I continues "Reassembling"

The eco-tale WOOD CRAFTING has begun to spin a whirl of characters in a setting that is the place called Ever. Inspired by the small act of entitlement ... a human woman's wish to have a bit of rusty treasure, this story considers just how much 'entitlement' human kind has assumed. Thus far, the story has introduced the beings called Wood Crafters an ancient race of beings who have watched the mortals from their wee places of covey and warrens. Not unlike any good fairy tale there are characters of fancy and purpose. Several have been introduced in the previous three installments: Shenia Wood, storyteller Shemaladia of Osprey, Grey Huntress of Loss Souls, (Shenia's mother), Freeilll Noa of the South, Grey Wood Crafter of the Islands (Shenia's Father), Oona of the Song, Somaia of the South ... and others.


The tale is really just begun with so many more threads to be wound and stitches to be made. This next part lays a bit of legacy a clue to the plot I suppose. "Reassembling ... a major theme is given some history with today's installment. Read the previous installments by linking here.



WOOD CRAFTING

Written by Mokihana Calizar
Copyright, 2009

Please enjoy the tale for your own pleasure,
but do not reprint it or copy it for any other purpose without permission from the author.

(see the sidebar for my contact info)


INSTALLMENT 4: "Reassembling"



The process of Reassembling is a tradition of longevity in the beliefs of Beings throughout Ever. Perhaps like the word used so frequently on the Great Planet today, Reassembling is a version of Recycling beliefs and attitudes that no longer served the original design of Creation. Bits of the original belief or attitude might have sustaining value. Rather than throw the whole kit and caboodle out, to become part of the Cosmic Heap, the wise Creators gave us the inspiration to simply reassemble and start again without too harsh a melt-down, if at all possible. Early in the history that I have learned to sing, the Reassembling involved the belief that loudness was power and domination simply a natural consequence of enveloping All. Loudness became the same as Most Feared and Most Feared became those in Control. Until, as the story grew, a very small being with ears nearly as large as his body, found no use for loud in any form.


It seems, in this early Reassembling, the small being with the very large ears happened upon a giant in the bottom of a very large hole. The hole was actually a pit the giant had dug weeks before, a trap for unsuspecting creatures who would become dinner or unwilling servants. Now, yes, this song is a very old one where Beings had not yet learned the civility of Wood Crafting today. What serves this story though is the process of reassembling beliefs that began with a very small being with ears nearly as large as his body finding no use for loud in any form. That night when the very small being with ears nearly as large as his body happened upon the giant at the bottom of the very large hole, it was the sound of the giant’s very loud voice that rattled the mouse from her warren not from the ditch.


“Aaaaaahhhhhhh. GET ME OUT,” the giant bellowed. Over and over again the giant bellowed “Aaaaaahhhh. GET ME OUT.” No one came near, fearing for their safety all being simply closed down their hatches, dug deeper into their burrows, flew off for higher limbs. But no one came near, no one came to help. The moon was nearly full that night when the giant fell into the hole that he had dug for creatures smaller than he, a trap. He was caught in a trap of his own making. By the time the moon had risen to her full height, Mosea, the mouse had had just about enough of the loud. To be truthful, her ears had begun to ring so loudly, the giant’s bellows were now not nearly as loud as the ringing in her ears. From the edge of the pitch Mosea leaned over to speak to the giant. Now this had never happened in any night in memory, but this is the way I was taught to remember it. Mosea, the mouse at her loudest had a voice that was barely a breeze to the ears of a giant as big as Geoff the Grand. “You have frightened the beings of All from you, Geoff the Grand. No one will come near. No one will help you. What good is your loudness now? Can you hear me?” At first, Geoff the Grand heard nothing but his own loud voice. Mosea, the mouse repeated, “You have frightened the beings of All from you, Geoff the Grand. No one will come near. No one will help you. What good is your loudness now? Can you hear me?” This time, the giant thought he heard squeaks and noticed two round red eyes looking down at him from the edge of the hole. Instead of bellowing again, Geoff the Grand stopped, and was silent. Mosea repeated her cant.


This time Geoff the Grand, who was actually the son of a once kindly pair, softened with the silence. The gentle voice of Mosea the mouse touched a place within him that was cold as ice crystal. With each moment of silence the giant’s heart warmed and began beating radiant beams of light throughout his great body. Mosea’s small red eyes watched, her nose and whiskers twitched as if tracking a piece of prized morsel. After what seemed an eternity, Geoff the Grand was now aglow from the top of his bright red head to the boots of his enormous feet. Instead of loud words chiseled into the space of Ever, the giant conned a plea of help in the direction of the hole’s edge. Without the slightest utterance Mosea felt Geoff the Grand in her own heart, “I am in trouble friend. I will need your help to get out of this hole. Is there a stout rope or vine strong enough and long enough on which I could climb? Please help me.” Mosea the mouse knew exactly what she would do.


The trees of the ancient Banyan hung thick with air roots the thickness of which could easily allow Geoff the Grand to climb. With no wasted motion, Mosea crossed the dark wood and tapped at the base of one such ancient Banyan. She explained the unlikely circumstances and since Banyan was a being nearly as old as time itself, the story amused the great tree and permission was granted. “Thank you kind one. Please draw in your light as I cut through the limb of your powerful root.” Mosea scaled the largest of air roots and gnawed expertly when she felt the Banyan’s light drawn from the root. The root fell with a thunderous collapse. Now the question of how to get the root to the pit was the challenge. By this time, the beings of the Wood had awakened to Mosea’s situation. The colonies of Ants came to Mosea and without being asked, thousands of tiny Ants slipped under the length of root and lifted the great weight to the edge and over the side of the hole. Aina the young golden owl, who in normal circumstances would view Mosea as a tasty snack, knew tonight was not a normal night. From her home in the heights of the cedar bows the owl caught hold of the end of the air root and circled that end to the trunk of the Banyan, knotting it expertly to secure the root.


The heavy air root arrived at Geoff the Grand’s boots; the one thousand ants crawled from under and waited for the giant to grab hold. When Geoff’s two enormous hands had firm grip, the ants clambered quickly and silently to the edge, a signal for the Banyan to stand firm her ground. Mosea spoke down to Geoff, “Now we are ready for you,” is all she said. Hand over fist Geoff slowly pulled his great weight from the bottom of the pit. His muscles strained to hoist his bulk from the hole, but he was agile and well muscled, and with the air root firmed wrapped around the Banyan’s trunk Geoff was quickly top-side.


The whole of the Wood waited at the rim of the big pit. Mosea was the first to speak as Geoff heaved his big black boots over the sides and rolled the rest of him to the sweet wood’s floor. “You have been Reassembled Geoff the Grand. Tonight is a very good night for All.” Geoff’s heart beat hard and clear, the beings of the Wood could hear the sound and felt it equally as well. It was a deep sound, a rich sound and from that night forward it was the loudest sound anyone would hear from the giant. The grand giant had lost his voice and found his heart.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

This is the writing that has been waiting to be born. I celebrate its birthing.

Mokihana and Pete said...

Thank you, yes it feels like a much welcomed birth. Mokihana