A Christmas Story

Hello.

Preparing for our Winter Solstice gathering here at Marshall Creek, I was suddenly inspired by the Muse of Christmas, who whispered the following tale into my ear. I shared the story with a friend whose eyes widened... I took it as a sign of approval, and emboldened, set it down into print.

So, I give to you this Christmas a tale! It is my gift to you.

Much love

Steve Serr,
Shortly before Christmas Eve, 2008

A Christmas Story
By Steve Serr

A woman stood with her back against the ocean, just beyond where the waves hissed towards her feet. In front of her the dark mouth of a cave pressed against a high white sea-cliff wall. Stepping forward, she walked towards it and into its cool dampness. Immediately, the sound of the sea fled and it became oddly silent. She followed the cave’s descent into the darkness. Sometimes running, seemingly flying, she pressed onwards through huge caverns, deeper and deeper into the earth. The darkness called out to her and her heart raced, as around her myriads of tiny soft violet and green crystals cushioned the walls. Pressing on until she felt she could go no deeper, she spied a tiny light. Forced to a halt at what appeared to be the tunnel’s end, she pulled aside a few stones to find an opening.

With each stone, the tiny light grew brighter. When the gap was as wide as her body, she pulled herself through, into a dense Amazon-like jungle, next to a wide, slow moving river. A long canoe with high sides and an oddly curved and carved prow ornament waited for her. She carefully stepped inside and it began to glide downstream. Past waterfalls and giant leaves she traveled, hearing the rustling of animals amidst the dense foliage along the banks. She floated past a large, long-beaked bird that flapped its wings heavily as it lifted itself into the air from the surface of the water.

In an instant and without warning, everything changed. The canoe and jungle were gone and she stood in an icy land that appeared polar. She walked briskly, as much to warm herself as to search for shelter. Huge drifts of snow and walls of ice rested imposingly around her. As she passed a huge ice cliff, the vague shadow of some large animal of a distant past hung deep within, frozen in perpetuity. She walked on.

Then just as suddenly, everything changed once again and instead of snow, she realized she was walking through sand. In all directions there were only windswept and dry dunes, the sand making progress difficult. The sun was slipping below the horizon. Wondering if she would ever see the end, or at least somewhere to go to, she knew there was no choice but to keep moving forward.

No sooner had this occurred to her, than she spotted the odd appearance of a small stone well with a wooden peaked roof. On coming closer, she could see there was an old woman in a brown hooded robe, turning a wood crank and raising a bucket. The old the woman turned towards her, setting the bucket on the well’s stone ledge as she neared. She dipped her withered, ancient hands into the bucket, and cupping them, withdrew glistening water and held this out to the new arrival who, at her direction, drank fully from the old woman’s hands.

Then, she lay down. Why was she doing this! Why did she drink from the old woman’s hands! Why was she lying down? She started to sit back up: was there something she needed to know about the water? Was it something special? The old woman clicked her tongue and motioning, directed her to simply rest and welcome the refreshing liquid into her body. Lying back, she had the bizarre sensation that she was floating and moreover, had the distinct impression that her arms – indeed her entire body – were beginning to glow!

Above, the desert night spread impossibly full of huge stars, with one in particular directly above her, shining much brighter than the rest. In the distance, she could see camels and riders, slowly ambling towards her. Her mouth hung open as she watched the small caravan, suddenly recognizing the star that shone so brightly and the 3 camels with riders…

They came closer until they were but footsteps away, the camels chewing and grunting. One of the riders stepped down, and produced a box with something glowing and moving inside. As he approached her, he pulled the lid back, revealing a bright orb of glowing light, about four inches in diameter. It hovered above his cradling hands as he carefully presented it to her.

She shook her head and asked: didn’t he have the wrong person? Wasn’t he supposed to be giving gifts to someone else, Jesus perhaps? He laughed, and shook his head… no, they did that ages ago. These were for her. With a gentle wave of his hands, he proceeded to direct the glowing light into her chest. This, he told her, was the glow of passion and energy. Smiling, he drew back toward his camel.

Then the next wise man stepped off his mount. He circled back and forth, making wide swings in the air with a tall glowing bundle of what appeared to be some kind of plant that sent billowing clouds of perfume around her. The sweet, earthy scent covered her completely, leaving a deep feeling of peace that struck her the moment she breathed it in. Yes, he said, seeming to read her thoughts, this was the gift of peace.

Bowing, he returned to his camel. The third wise man stepped down from his camel and came towards her. However, as he came closer, she recoiled in alarm, for he was ugly beyond reason: his face was covered with boils and pestilence, his hands cracked and swollen. Surely this must not be one of the Kings, she wondered, as her mind scrambled to make sense. Yet, there was something about his eyes and expression that held her trust. With a look of upmost compassion and concern, he was there, he said, to help her die…

She knew, beyond what she understood, that he was right and this was the time. Gently, he extended a virulent hand to softly touch her with his illness. With a face of perfect beatitude he spoke further:

… not just to die, but to be reborn.

Sighing a last breath, she lay back, floating slightly above the sand in the middle of a vast desert beneath a biblical sky with a huge star directly overhead. Surrounded by three wise men, their camels, and a watchful old woman, she indeed died. But no sooner did she do so, but she began to break open along her centerline like a chrysalis. Moist with the dew of an emerging butterfly, she stepped out from within herself, anew.

The unspeakably ugly king smiled. Even more than tending to her death and rebirth, his said, his gift was ‘compassion for what came before.’ She thought to herself: a perfect gift from one so repellent as he! In order to be the compassionate and wise king that he was, for at least a hundred times he must have had to forgive and let go of… himself?

The three kings remounted. Tapping with their canes, they arose above her as their camels lurched upward to their feet. Returning from where they came, the tiny caravan soon disappeared into the distance. Giddy with excitement, she pranced around in the dark, dancing around and around the well and even getting up onto its small roof to dance closer to the stars. The old woman, in her own way, creaky and slow, danced with her.

Then it all stopped: the old woman began to age so rapidly that that her skin fell away and her body disintegrated, with even her skull crumbling until it was just dust. Then the well began to fall into itself, following the path of the old woman until it too crumbled into the sand.

With a heart on fire and a smile as wide as the desert itself, she retraced her path, back from where she came, through the snow and ice, back up the jungle river, not stopping until she found the opening from where she had removed the stones. Pulling her way back through, she retraced her steps, scurrying up the long dark caverns until she stepped back into the sunlight, to where the waves were still pounding on the shore.


Copyright © Steve Serr, Ph.D., 2008 Material may be freely redistributed without profit or associated user fees so long as author’s name and copyright is included. Author permission is required for any print or electronic publishing for which a fee is attached, whether there is profit or not.