Featured Story: Keeper of the Flame of Dreams
November 1, 2009
She was just an old woman so most people thought that she wasn’t worth much anymore. Still the children gathered around her feet every evening to hear her stories.
“There was a time,” she said slowly, “when The People loved to dream and because they dreamed things happened in their lives that wouldn’t otherwise be possible. The People knew that dreaming was an essential part of living and for thousands of years they had kept their dream flame alive.
The People were very sensitive beings and very perceptive. They could see things and know things that other people couldn’t necessarily see or know. But they never considered themselves to be special. They simply believed that they were part of a vast Universe and so it was natural to follow the laws of creation.
But dark times fell on The People and terrible things happened that almost cut them off from the flame of dreams forever. Their water became strangely colored and foul tasting. Their crops dried up and beautiful exotic plants and flowers died and became extinct.
With each new loss of a fellow plant species, The People mourned their losses but they had to carry on. There was so much to do. But just at the point when they were beginning to recover, terrible winds came and ripped their animals into pieces and sent their huts flying all over the land.
By the time the winds finally died down there was nothing left at all of their village except for the tiny ember of a once brilliant fire. The People were stunned and sat around this small ember moaning and rocking in grief. What where they to do? Why had everything they needed to live been swept away?
In order to protect the tiny flame, they found a vessel to keep it in. They tried to carry on with their dreaming practices - singing, chanting and praying for life new. But each day their tiny flame seemed to flickering smaller and smaller and more of their spirit seemed to die.
“You see” said the old woman to the children, ”sometimes all that you have is a tiny flickering flame and you have to hold onto it with all of your might.”
But The People’s misery did not end there. One night while they were sleeping, a huge, black, ominous cloud came over them and began to shout, “You People, who do you think you are to dare to dream while others are suffering? You think that you know the laws of the Universe but you do not. I will put an end to your dreaming forever.”
The skies got very dark, lightening cracked and the winds howled and suddenly it began to rain. It rained and rained and rained. It rained so hard for 3 days and nights that much to their horror the vessel that held the flame was washed away.
The People huddled together trembling and scared. They had never purposely set out to harm anyone. In their hearts they believed that dreaming was part of the natural world and a way to keep things peaceful, happy and balanced for all. But now with the loss of the flame, they began to question things.
“So what do you think they did then?” the old woman asked the children. “Give up? Admit defeat?”
“No, shouted the children. “They can’t give up. They must find the flame and keep it alive.” You see, you can always trust the heart of a child to keep the dream alive.
“That’s right”, said the old woman. “The flame was more important to them then even their own lives.” So they built some boats out of reeds and set off to find the vessel.
They searched for a 100 days and 100 nights with little to eat along the way - only a few seeds and berries. But they were determined that if they searched long enough they would eventually find the flame of dreams. But the journey was very wearing and they were very tired.
After awhile they decided to stop and take a rest so they began to look for a place where they could lay down and sleep. That night one of the elders in the group had a dream. She dreamt of a cave inside of a mountain and right in the center was a fire burning brightly. The next morning when they awoke they were encouraged by the dream and so they set off in search of the mountain.
By mid day they found it and they got out of their boats and began climbing the mountain, chanting and praying, one step at a time. But just then the big black cloud appeared again. “How dare you defy me! How dare you attempt to keep the dreams alive. I will not have it.” And it began to rain so hard that The People got soaked.
They slipped and fell, got mud in their hair, their eyes, their mouths but they kept on. They continued to climb the mountain, chanting and praying, one step at a time. Not rain, nor mud, nor thunderstorm would stop them because now they were very close. They could sense it now and they began to get a wiff of smoke.
And when they reached the mouth of the cave they paused and made a prayer of thanks for right there in the very center was the tiny ember of living dreams. And the minute that the flame of dreams saw its people it got so excited that it burst into a huge roaring fire that warmed The People got warmed and they had a good meal.
“So you see without their dreams the people almost perished. But they did live on and they fanned the flame of their dreams every day. And they assigned some very special keepers to the flame of dreams so that it could never go out again. And do you know who that is?”, the old lady whispered to the children? But the children did not hear her because they were already fast asleep. “It’s you,” she whispered.
Annie Hart original, June 12, 2000
![[Post to Twitter]](http://anniehart.com/wp-content/plugins/tweet-this/icons/tt-twitter.png){kind=icon}
If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!
Story of the Week - The Dare To Be Different Spoon Man
July 21, 2009
He lay quietly in the soft darkness of the cutlery drawer, planning his strategy. “Subtle but assertive, that’s what I want to portray. I must show those other spoons that I’m not like them, complacent and dull with nothing to look forward to except the everyday routine of going in and out of the spoon drawer. No, I’m definitely not like them. Why I plan to do different things, see the world from a different perspective, be bold.”
The other spoons slept quietly, unaware of the storm that was brewing within the Spoon Man’s metal heart. “I’ll just quietly tell them I’m leaving and that will be that. No big deal and I certainly won’t let them intimidate me.”
The next morning he awoke with a nervous know in his body. Somehow he’d gotten all twisted up in his sleep. But determination to be free spurred him on. He took a deep breath, looked around for one last time at his surroundings and reminded himself to be calm and gentle. With the strength of Hercules he rose out of the kitchen drawer and boldly declared, “That’s it you guys. I’ve had it! I dare to be unique and I don’t care what you think. I’m going off to live with the forks!”
The other spoons having been woken from their peaceful slumber, shrieked in horror, “You’ll do what?”
“I said that I’m going off to live with the forks….if it’s ok with you that is.”
The boldest spoon of all stepped forward. “What in the world will you do with the forks? I think that I speak for all of us when I say that I think it is a totally ridiculous idea and I for one won’t allow it.” The Spoon Man was taken aback. He hadn’t anticipated this type of reaction at all. What to do now?
“I believe in you.” It was the tiny dessert spoon
“You do?”
“Yes, why I think that you are bold and brave and I’m really glad that you have the courage to be different. I’ve been dreaming about these things all of my life but I would never have been able to come forth with them as you have.” 
The Dare to Be Different Spoon Man sighed. One of those soft and encouraging sighs that show the effects of having one’s dreams realized in the bat of an eye.
“Beautiful Miss Dessert Spoon, would you marry me and come to live with me in the unknown wilds of the fork compartment?”
“Oh Mr. Spoon Man, you’re the spoon of my dreams.”
The End
written by Annie Hart about 1989
If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!
Video of The Week - A Modern Indian Fable
July 13, 2009
A very sweet little Indian fable with a powerful social message.
If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!
Story of the Week, The Green Pea Princess
July 13, 2009
- Green Pea Princess
There was once a Green Pea Princess who lived in a garden on the hill. Her name was Guisante. She was a very sweet and tender pea but very forlorn. Guisante was loved and admired by many in the garden but there was no one special that touched her heart. This made her feel very sad and and want to withdraw deep inside of her green pea pod.
In the springtime Guisante watched as all of the other creatures found mates and she wondered if she would ever find one too. Day after day, she felt more alone. “Oh if only I had a podner, someone to share this beautiful garden with, someone to make life merry. Surely I wouldn’t be lonely then.”
Deep within her heart Guisante did not know if a podner would ever find her. There were several sharp-toothed slugs that guarded the perimeters of her garden. No one could get in and she could not get out. She felt trapped in the garden and very glum. “No one will ever love me. I will shrivel and become hard and dry like an old maid pea!”
She tried consulting the Sweet Pea Fairies for advice but even they seemed unable to help her. They simply told her to relax in the sun. Guisante couldn’t see how that would help her but she had nothing better to do. So she found a nice spot in the sun and very soon she dozed off. She found herself in a magical place of dreaming where she met a mystical being of shimmering light, that had the exquisite frangrace of a rose. The Rose Fairy approached Guisante and told her that she had come with a special message. 
“ Guisante you must change your mind. You believe something that is not true. You believe that you cannot be loved. A very special prince is on his way to your garden and you must be ready to let him in. find your way back to the rose in your heart. Then all that you wish will come to be. Don’t delay!”
Guisante awoke from the dream feeling very confused. She did not know how to change her mind or how to find a rose in her heart. “No one will ever love me!”
With no more hope and nothing else to live for, Guisante prepared herself to die. She called in the blackest clouds in the whole universe and asked them to cover her. The black clouds came and surrounded her. The tree frogs began to sing a death chant. “Goodbye dear world, you have been good to me but I am not worthy of living.”
With one last very long breath, she began to close her pod and withdrawal from the world. But just as her pod was almost shut, she was hit on the head by a big, fat, wet drop of rain. It felt so good that in spite of herself she giggled. She giggled and giggled as the rain poured down and filled up her garden with the waters of hope. As she watched the swirling currents of rain she felt a desire to live. She realized that there was so much love around her.
“The black clouds loved me enough to call in the tree frogs to make it rain. And the tree frogs loved me enough to have sung a rain chant instead of a death chant. They saved my life.”
Guisante felt a stirring of love so profound that a rose burst forth from her heart. The tree frogs sang an ancient healing song as Guisante bloomed in love. The garden came to grow and flourish and creatures came from all over to visit the magical Princess Guisante and find healing in her garden.
And yes one day a Green Pea Prince did appear on the horizon and when he saw the sacred garden of Guisante, he knew that he was home. They lived happy and blessed surrounded by sweet peas, in the beautiful garden on the hill.
* This story was written April 5, 1997. There will be commentary to follow in next post. Read on and share your comments.
If you enjoyed this post, make sure you subscribe to my RSS feed!
-
Connect With Annie Hart
.png)
.png)
-
Check Out My Blog on Skirt!
