The Book of Things: one

They say to me in their awakening,
"You and the world you live in are but a grain of sand upon the infinite shore of an infinite sea."

And in my dream I say to them,
"I am the infinite sea, and all the worlds are but grains of sand upon my shore."

Kahlil Gibran

***
 
He had dreamed a dream and awoke to the feel of it as real. He lay in stillness with the thought until he could remember every part and then he arose and wrote it down. He kept a book of dreams though these he never showed but only kept and read, and perhaps in the margin later wrote some connected highlight of the day…for some dreams had the power to speak though not everyone believed.


It was well past dawn when he was done and had washed and dressed and eaten. The village was already alive to the unfamiliar warmth of the winter air. Outside the voices of the fishermen heading toward the shore faded in the distance as he stepped forth into the sun, falling in more or less among the stragglers.
 
It was a day of remembrance. The clear and warm which had appeared in the midst of winter shook off shades of grey for the memories of spring; the industrious set about to repair their boats and nets or the thatch upon their roofs while the others joked and drank and idled away the day but he was not as either of these. Instead he wound his way down the hill to the beach which bordered the sea for he answered deeper need.
 
And he walked among the grass of the dunes a goodly ways past the fishing boats and nets, and those who drank and diced ~ beyond to where the air was clear of the boisterous sound of men and he heard only the lulling rhythm of the sea.

He walked through wisps of morning fog along the ocean’s shore. Too far it seemed between the breaks since winter fell and winds swept along the coast, and the rare, warm, sunlit days as this. But his was always a captive heart belonging to this sea of jade which sings a song of longing upon the winds and in the waves.
 
And to the sea he said, ““I have kept the faith, faithless as I am.” But the Jade Sea did not rise in anger or lie placid in agreement, just the gentle roll of waves as if considering his voice.


He regarded the sea in silence and continued in a steady walk toward the headlands, for he knew that she had heard though she seldom spoke. And so they continued several hours until the sun approached its mid-morning, the fog long since burned away.
 
He sat still now upon the cliffs perhaps some hundred feet above the shore and watched the spray of waves coming up off the rocks endless seasons had carved away. The village was a distant scene not easily discerned though he looked not back from here.
 
The man sat long listening to the wind and the waves before pulling out his flute. The notes he played darting and dancing as the sea among the rocks below. He closed his eyes and played the song he heard in the sea of jade, and for a moment it seemed as if they were one and he heard the sea whisper to his ear in the wind and in the wave, "You speak not to me now, but though you know it not your music is my song. Come to me in my sheltered cove."


“What would you have? Those who labor seek increase and those who idle seek pleasure, and your as neither of these. If not gain or pleasure what do you seek?”

“Myself”
 
The waters of the pool eddied and foamed, and said at length, “Those who seek for self are neither common nor rare, yet far between. Perhaps we shall speak.” The water of the waves surged in again between the rocks asking, “What is necessary in life?”
 
“Air, water, and food – and perhaps shelter…,” answered the man ending with a note of uncertainty.
 
“Myself” mused the pool, “You seek yourself. From what source do you spring but a babe? When a child is to be born does not the water break? And at birth is not the first need air and then next comes the desire for food…and air, and water, and food. This is the cycle of your life you cannot escape. These are the laws imposed upon you that you cannot break. The bounds upon your dominion are dependence”
 
The waters surged and retreated through the rocks for awhile as the man considered. Though at length the foaming pool whispered, “And what is shelter?”
 
“Is it not protection from the elements?” replied the man with certainty, secretly glad the sea had returned to this.

“True shelter?” the waters laughed as they retreated.
 
“True shelter?” puzzled the man aloud while wondering within if the changing sea now mocked him.
 
“A child knows when it is loved; when it is held, and kissed, and nurtured. Even a child born deaf, and dumb, and blind can feel love. What is shelter?” the returning surge demanded him.

“Love,” stammered the man.
 
“Love,” affirmed the sea. “Does not the child cry and expect to eat but you know now that food must be sought. What the child seeks in tears you seek in sweat. But each to their station ascribes it to providence. What means this to you?”
 
The man considered and said, "No matter our station there is always that which is above us."
 
The foaming waters carried on, “What is another’s need but your strength waiting to be born?”

“I do not understand,” said the man, “I give alms -”

“Which is more, to give of self or give of abundance?” said the sea of jade, showering the man with spray.

"Self "

"Why?"

"I don’t know…I guess because you’re personally involved" he said to the choppy waters.
 
The waters eddied and swirled around the man. "A man may give of his knowing or his unknowing. What is man’s most common excuse?"
 
"The man paused in thought and then ventured, “I don’t have time?”
 
“The material possessions of man are known and he chooses from among his abundance according to his will, but seldom as much as to causes himself hardship,” relied the sea, “Time is the finite and the unknown. A man is born and shall die counting every hour of the day but never until the end does he know the length of his time. It is irreplaceable yet how is it spent? This is one of the great secrets of life, without which there never is true balance.”
 
"I have kept the faith, faithless as I am," whispered the sea.
 
And the man pondered these things until eve for his dream had said, the sea will speak.

© February 9th, 2010