Once There Was A Land
Corner of My Heart
Nestled in a quiet corner of my heart is a story I heard long ago. It was a story that wound its way into my heart over a hundred years ago.
No, I am not that old! It was a story from another life.
Suffering
In that lifetime, I had lived in a war torn country, and although I was born into wealth, I became depressed. For there were poor people everywhere around me, suffering people. I decided to try to help them as best I could, which was difficult in that lifetime due to my station: people of wealth who gave to the poor were thought lesser.
I heard there was a land where the poor did not suffer so deeply. I thought I should like to go to that land and see how it was done, but my husband in that life was a brute who would not let me go. But my heart longed to go. I needed to know what made for less suffering, as the suffering during the war had been very great. There was a story told to me about this land that I could not get out of my mind. I longed to know if it was true that the poor did not have to suffer so deeply.
Angel Light
The story I was told was that in this land there was a woman who was very kind. She gave her extras to the poor and no one demeaned her. When babies were torn from their mothers, she reunited them. When fathers were torn from their sons, she brought them back together. The animals there were well cared for, and she saw to it that they had medicine when they needed it. Sabbaths in this land were days when no one worked. Nor was there a need to work, for everyone was relaxing, sharing stories, napping, or laughing with friends and family. The land was replete with contentment.
In the story I was told, the woman saw to it that no one was treated better than the next, that all were treated with respect, no matter their station in life.
There was no better than or less than, and when some had great gifts, they were celebrated only for their gifts.
The woman was a teller of stories to enlighten, stories to educate. Her stories taught people to have regard for one another, for life, for all that is good.
As the story goes, the land was sweet.
There was a kindness that lingered about the streets.
Passersby greeted one another with eyes aglow and smiles. Neighbor greeted neighbor. Families gathered each evening. Engines of war had ceased their churning, and there was peace in the land. Young and old danced night after night. Music was heard across the land. Flowers grew in abundance. Sunsets were golden with glimmers of crimson and red. And sunrises were pink and soft. And when the sun rose, the blossoms gave a color and fragrance that sweetened the world.
Soft Sunrise
Where did this story come from?
Maybe a dream, maybe from a time before the warn torn years, maybe a wish, maybe a memory of what could be.
It is said that pieces of old lives appear again in the new lives, as we work on new solutions to old problems.
The person that I was in that former lifetime longed for sweetness – not the sugary kind you put in drinks and cakes, but rather the sweetness of life. What I have found in this life is the sweetness of life exists everywhere , all the time . . . in the laughter, in the music, in the fragrance of growing things, in smiles, in every lovely sunset and each ephemeral sunrise, in eyes that glow and words of kindness.
The Good Green Earth
Maybe the story that crept into my heart so long ago was the memory of what I wished life could be. I couldn’t find the sweetness in that lifetime as I watched my land be torn by war and as I saw the impoverishment of so many people around me. It is easy to forget sweetness in the midst of conflict, whether it is a war of arms or words or ideas.
The key I have found in this life is to remember to look for the sweetness.
The flower that blooms in captivity’s weeds or on the battlefield’s dry ground may be the sweetest of them all. The music of a song soothes the weary heart strings. And finding oneself in the warm glow of a stranger’s eyes or the warm embrace of loved ones brings the sweetness of human life to the surface.
Desert Blooms
Stories tell our memories, like this story, pointing toward something we need to learn.
Stories like this one wrap themselves deeply in the memory banks of the heart.
We remember them as life unfolds. As I have grown older, this story began to unfold.
Opening