About a month ago Susan and I chatted with a friend.
People should learn to stop chatting with me.
They end up in stories. Or something they say ends up in a story. Or I tell them a story.
Such is the case with Orca’s Younger Brother.
(and posted here with permission)
Enjoy.
There is a land so far away the only way to get there is to hope. Some people attempt to get there by crossing many oceans and forget the oceans they must cross are oceans of the heart.
In this land lived a young boy without mother or father, without sister or brother, and each day he would travel seeking a family he never found. He had friends to help him in his search, but they weren’t family, only friends, and the boy so wanted a family that he would walk through the woods and talk to whatever he passed on his journey, asking “Are you my family? Do you know my family?”
Without knowing it, this was a great thing for the boy. He would pass by an elm and say “Hello, Tree. How are you today? Do you know my family?” or a rock and say “Hello, Rock. How are you today? Are you my family?”
This may seem foolish to you but have you ever wondered at the stories rocks and trees and oceans and mountains could tell if only we could listen? Imagine having survived so much change in the world! Imagine the wisdom accumulated simply by watching, by waiting, by listening, by lasting!
This boy did, so while he received silence, he continued on.
One day as he passed an old pine growing on the side of a hill he said “Hello, Pine. How are you today?”
But this time the pine shook its needly leaves and harrumphed back at him. “Hello yourself, Boy. What brings you to this side of the hill?”
The boy stopped and stood still. He looked around him, first at the many colored granite and obsidian rocks which rolled down through the ages, then at the daisies and winterweed that clung to the earth here and there. He walked around a spruce and a willow, and all the time he looked, he saw no one.
The boy called softly, “Hello?”
The old pine’s needles shook again. “Hello again. Welcome to this side of the hill. All who come here have questions. What questions do you bring me?”
The boy stared at the pine. He walked around it twice. Once he quickly stepped back hoping to catch whomever mocked him, but found no one.
“Tree? Pine?”
“Child? Boy?”
“I didn’t know trees could talk.”
“I didn’t know young boys could listen.”
The young boy was thrilled. He’d found a new friend. Maybe this new friend could tell him if he had a family and where he could find them!
“You’re a very tall tree. Have you been here long?”
“I’m tall so I can see what I can see. I’m here to hold this side of the hill and greet those who come this way.”
“Hills need to be held?”
“All things need to be held. Some often, some not. To be embraced, to be cherished, to be wanted. All things need to be loved. The first part is saying ‘Hello’.”
The boy reached his arms as far around the pine as he could and held tightly. “Hello, Pine.”
Pine’s lower limbs moved slowly, as if caught in a gentle breeze except no wind blew on the tree’s hill, and reached down and down and down until Pine’s limbs and needles formed a beautiful forest scented wrap around him.
The boy rejoiced in Pine’s needly embrace. “This is nice.”
“It has been long since someone welcomed my touch.”
“I welcome your touch.”
“Would you sit and talk with me for a while? I can only see what I can see. I can only learn what Brother Wind and Sister Rain tell me. Few others come this way, and fewer still stop and share. Most hurry back the way they came, fearful of talking trees.” The tree sighed and its upper branches wilted slightly. “Will you stop and share with me?”
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