-
The Cursed Widow and the Wolves, a fairy tale for enlightenment
Snow heaps at the window, but the quilts are heavy and antique. Snuggle beneath the hand-stitched love. It’s time for the crone to tell her tiny tale, so open your mind and heart and find what meaning you will.
A widow stirred mushroom broth on her hearth stove and listened to the night. She’d been cursed by a powerful seamstress and awaited her fate. Soon enough, the rotted door to her home crashed open. A pack of wolves entered, shaking bits of wood from their fur into the fire, setting it ablaze.
The broth bubbled and splattered. The widow raged. “How dare you make a mess of my floor!” she screeched.
The wolves sat on their haunches and stared at the widow. She muttered and mopped. “Stupid wolves,” she said. “Don’t you know enough to eat me?” But the wolves only stared. The widow ate her dinner and went to bed.
Days passed in this fashion—the wolves stared and the widow grumbled. She collected many burns and bruises covering her eyes with her hands while she cooked and swept.
Winter turned to spring. The widow couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it!” she demanded. But still the wolves stared.
“Let’s make a deal,” the widow told the wolves one summer evening. “This has gone on much longer than expected. I’ve decided that we are a family. All I ask is that you never stop staring at me.”
Heaven takes a curse and works like this.
-
The Journey for a Daughter, Wine, & Figs, a fairy tale for enlightenment
The hearty stew simmering on the stove isn’t quite ready. Sneak a molasses cookie and come by the fire. There’s time enough for the crone to tell a tiny tale, so open your mind and heart and find what meaning you will.
A barren woman begged God to give her a child. That night she dreamed of a small boy with her husband’s features playing alongside a river flowing with wine and figs. “I must find this river,” she declared upon waking. “It is there I will be a mother at last!”
Her husband readily agreed to leave their home in search of flowing wine and figs. “Where is this river?” they demanded to know of everyone they met on their journey. People believed the woman and her husband to be mad and offered them bread to eat and tonics to drink.
Years passed.
One chill autumn morning, it all became too much. “I will never have my daughter!” the barren woman wailed. “Why does God abandon me?” With these last words, the pain in her heart was so great she fell stone cold dead.
The husband railed against God as well. “No flowing wine and figs! Why is God so cruel as to make this promise and not keep it?” With these last words, he clutched his chest and fell stone cold dead as well.
After three days the woman woke to cooing doves and a clear sky. “Let us go home,” she told her husband, shaking him awake. “Let things be as they are. Our seeking is ended!” With these last words, she was born again, and her husband as well. They returned to their village where they laughed with friends over what they had done.
Heaven on earth is like this.
-
The Bottle Without a Message, a fairy tale for enlightenment
The air is crisp and swept beneath the cottage doors by a cold winter’s wind. Brew your nighttime tea piping hot and settle in. It’s time for the crone to tell a tiny tale, so open your mind and heart and find what meaning you will.
A woman despised as a fool lived within a seaside cliff. She loved her solitude, at least until a great wave splashed into her cave, leaving behind a bottle corked tight. No message was hidden inside.
The woman felt cheated out of a story. Everyone knew bottles from the sea held messages of great love or great need of rescue. Why didn’t hers?
With arms crossed over her chest, she plunked herself down on the ledge of her cave and glared at the bottle. “Why does no one love or need me?” she demanded to know. Receiving no answer, she pulled her hair, ripped her dress, and streaked the beach.
At last she faced facts.
“I no longer believe,” she declared, “that bottles should have messages, for this one clearly does not.” This was only the beginning—she questioned everything she’d ever believed! Her eyes opened as wide as her noggin. What did she see?
Pearls awash on the beach. She collected them in her empty bottle, now quite useful, and became a very wise woman indeed. To all those in need of rescue, she lovingly offered her pearls. Those with empty bottles received the most.
Heaven on earth is like this.
-
The Crone with No Ears to Hear, a fairy tale for enlightenment
Bring your mug of cocoa and choose a chair round our crackling hearth. Night has come with a heavy rain. Now is a good time for the crone to tell a tiny tale, so open your mind and heart and find what meaning you will.
A crone visited a sage in hope of ending her lifelong string of misfortune.
“I’m despised by the gods,” she said. “My parents sold me into servitude. My husband left me for a mermaid. People laugh at my pottery. Can you help me?”
The sage mumbled a prayer and the crone was struck deaf.
The crone wept in disbelief at this latest injustice. In despair, she stumbled through her village. What did she see?
A seller of herbs, finger jabbing at the chest of a buyer, both with angry faces beneath the cool shade of a tree. Two women with heavy shoulders as they spooned fragrant soup between bouts of tears. A traveler with anxious eyes and a map. All with moving lips.
The crone could not hear their stories of rage, sorrow, and fear. The sage had left her with only cool shade, fragrant soup, and the miracle of maps.
Heaven on earth is like this.
*This week I read a post by author Liz Gilbert about how people like hearing stories and figuring out things for themselves rather than being told how to live life. So…I decided to write a tiny tale. This is my first, and it was fun.
*featured photo by Cristian Newman — thank you!!
