The Door Into Beyond
I looked down the path from my space in the trees. It was a safe path, broad and paved with smooth stones from the river. In the middle of the path was a well filled with sweet, cool water. I went to the well every day to draw drinking water for the man and myself.
From the beginning we had lived in the forest. I think we had begun our lives as trees, winding our branches together in the wind. But the Mother had smiled on us and changed us to our present form. As people we could love each other freely whenever we chose. We no longer had to wait for the wind to entwine our branches.
We loved our lives in the forest. There was plenty to eat, nuts and fruits from our brother and sister trees. The well provided our water. Animals played with us and talked to us in that happy time. The Mother talked to us often, shining her silver rays into the forest each night. We were content.
One day, as I went to get the water, I noticed that the path to the well also led away from the well. I wondered where it went, and if there might be others of our kind at the other end of the path. I decided to follow the stones for a while and see where they might lead.
In a short time I came to a hedge. The only opening was an arched doorway formed by the living plant. I peeked through the door and saw a vast, open space very unlike the forest that protected me. Across this open space in the distance were great mountains rising up to the sky where Mother made her home. “What a wondrous place this is,” I thought to myself. “I must tell my companions and see what they think of this place.”
So I went back to the great tree in the forest that was home to my companion and myself, as well as to several animals. I was so excited that I forgot to bring the water carrier home. That night I spoke softly to the man about what I had seen.
“Do you think we could go to those mountains?” I asked. “We could climb them and get closer to the Mother than here in the forest.”
The man shook his head. “I think we are supposed to stay here,” he said. “We have plenty to eat and drink. We have shelter, and we have other animals for company. Why should we leave this place for something we don’t know about, even if it is to get closer to the Mother? We don’t know anything about what is beyond the forest. What if there is no water, no fruit to eat, no animals to keep us company?”
I fell into stunned silence. Surely the man would want to know what was beyond his world. Surely he would want to go with me to see this strange place. “What if the Mother has made the path to show us the way to the mountains?” I argued. “What if she wants us to journey toward her home?’
The snake, my dearest friend and companion other than the man, had been curled at my feet listening to our conversation. I trusted snake’s wisdom above all others. Snake spoke for the Mother and was her emissary to us when we weren’t sure what to do.
“What do you think, snake?” I asked.
Snake said thoughtfully, “I think that you are both right. It is foolhardy to go to a place that is unknown, a place that may or may not be of the Great Mother. But it is also foolish to stay only where it is safe and comfortable. You are both naïve and trusting. You know nothing of the wide world, while I have traveled beyond the borders of this forest. I have seen the Great Mother and know of her will. The far mountains do not contain her any more than this forest contains her. She is uncontainable,” he added.
I fell silent, disappointed that going to the mountains would not bring me to the Great Mother herself.
“However,” Snake spoke with authority in his voice, “It is important to know of the world. You live here in the forest in great contentment, but you do not grow. Only if you seek to know the world will you find the Mother. Only if you face the unknown will you grow. You cannot remain in ignorance forever. I know of a fruit, that if you eat of it, you will learn much. I will bring it to you tomorrow.” With that Snake crawled to his den and slept.
I was too excited to sleep. “We can eat that fruit and learn more of the world,” I excitedly told my companion. “I can’t wait until tomorrow.”
My companion replied in alarm. “I know what fruit the snake is speaking of. The Guardian of our forest said that is the one fruit that we may not eat, if we are to be cared for.” Dropping his voice to a whisper, he said, “If we eat that fruit, we will know more of the world, more of the Mother, but we will lose our places here. Do you want to take that chance? The Guardian is very jealous of his creatures. He doesn’t want them to know more than he does. He says that if we do, it would be too much for us, and we will surely die.”
I became frightened. Of course I didn’t want to lose my place in this garden. I didn’t want to lose my companion or my home, or to die, whatever that was. I decided to forget it. But I couldn’t forget the possibilities of a wider world. I wanted to climb the mountain. I wanted to cross that vast expanse. I didn’t want to spend forever, going to the well every day and hiding in a forest. I wanted to see the sky and touch the Great Mother if I could. I fell into a troubled sleep.
The next morning, without my companion’s knowledge, I told the snake I would eat the fruit. If it didn’t hurt me, I would try to convince my companion that it was good. If it did hurt me, then I would be the only one to bear the consequences.
Without a word, Snake nodded his assent. It was a good plan. I would take the risk and bear the brunt of the Guardian’s displeasure, leaving my companion out of danger.
That day, when I approached the well, a plain fruit, one that I had never seen before, was lying on the stones. Snake was waiting for me. “Be very sure woman, that this is what you want to do. You will learn many things from this fruit. You will never be innocent again. You may lose the man, or the consequences may be more than you bargained for.”
I held the fruit in my hand. It did not look particularly appealing. It was dark and somewhat shriveled looking. The snake’s words, coupled with this ugly fruit, made what I was about to do seem forbidding. But I had thought about it all night. It was too safe here. We only had to draw water and collect the fruit of the forest’s bounty. I needed desperately to see what was in the world. The Guardian might be jealous if I gained knowledge, but the Mother held me and the whole world. Why should I not experience that world also?
I bit into the fruit. It was sour and tart, and I almost spit it out. It was nothing like the sweet tastes that I knew from the other plants in the garden. Then I knew. I knew that life was not all sweetness, that it could be sour and bitter. I knew that if I left this garden I could never return. Its sweetness would be too cloying. I needed difficulties and harshness if I were to grow into knowledge.
I ran to my companion, holding out this bitter fruit to him. “Look, I didn’t die. I know now what I must do. Come with me, please,” I begged. “We must go to the mountains together. You must have this knowledge also. This fruit has helped me to see that without hardship, we can know nothing. We are dead while we live here, because we have no knowledge, no challenges, nothing but endless bliss.” I offered the fruit to him.
“I must go to the mountains, with or without you, but I hope it is with you. The Mother wants us to do this thing because it is the only way that we can grow.”
The man slowly reached out his hand and took the fruit. “You are my life companion. I will go with you.” He bit into the bitter fruit and smiled.
I took his hand. The two of us, along with the snake started down the path to the Great Mother. We were just crossing out of the garden into the plain when we heard the Guardian roar, “They’ve escaped. A curse on them and that blasted snake.” We held hands and began our journey.
Barbara Garland
April. 2001
