• CRONE TALES

    The Nun Who Allowed Bad Things to Happen, a fairy tale for enlightenment

    November 20, 2019 /

    Whispered songs of long ago rattle trees ’til they drop their leaves and sleep. Dark days come, the season of storytelling to pass the time. Shutter the windows and come by the fire. The crone is wrapped in her shawl and ready to tell her tiny tale, so open your mind and heart and find what meaning you will.

     

     

    There once was a nun who loved God but secretly longed for a life she believed could never be hers.

    It so happened one day that as she tended garden in her abbey, a traveling minstrel did sing her a song in exchange for carrots and onions. The nun cried abundant tears at his song of far-flung lands and courtly love.

    The minstrel, for his part, fell in love with the nun and suggested this: “Leave behind your life for God and marry me, for you are beautiful and I am lonely.” The nun cried anew for she did love God. Still, the two married the very next day.   

    Soon enough, the nun-wife knew she had made a mistake. The world was not safe. She saw men abuse their wives (though hers did not, praise God). She witnessed the murder of innocents for their meager purses, and the suffering of children who did starve in their filth.

    The nun-wife begged to return to the safety of the abbey. But it was too late, too late. For her minstrel-husband did love her and would not give her up.

    Plague arrived and swept the countryside. “Lord God,” the nun-wife prayed in horror, “why do you allow such suffering? Is it because we sin? Is it punishment for our lack of faith? I cannot bear it. Please, help me understand, or else how can I love you?”

    She survived the plague. Her minstrel-husband did not, and so she burned his poor body. After this, the nun-wife-widow felt angry and in fear all the time, for she knew God could not be trusted in the end. The world was not safe. It was then she gave up all hope of happiness and peace.

    In despair, she found work as a servant and accepted earthly life exactly as it was, without hoping it could be anything different.

    A strange thing happened. 

    The nun-wife-widow often found herself in wonder over a singing bird. A blanket in winter. The taste of onion soup. Such ordinary things delighted her as they never had before.

    And when she came upon a man abusing his wife, she did befriend the woman and sing her the minstrel-husband’s songs. She walked without fear along mud roads beloved by thieves, noticing the flowers. When she laid eyes upon starving and filthy children, she did what she could, chasing them to the river to wash and sharing food from her garden.

    Years later, plague came again, and the nun-wife-widow lay at the edge of death. She was not angry. She was not afraid. For by this time she was quite practiced at expecting nothing to be different than how it was. She was quite willing to open her eyes and choose a good purpose for whatever came upon her. 

    Her eyes were open as she died, and when she saw God, she saw herself.

    Heaven on earth is like this.  

     

     

    So. Why does God allow suffering? Well, find out. You allow suffering to be, and see what happens.

    In this story there’s no answer to why bad things happen. Instead, the nun-wife-widow inadvertently emulates her God: She allows. To be clear: SHE ACCEPTS REALITY.

    Humans desperately try to control life and thus expect God to be about the same business. No matter this desire to be in control delivers neurosis rather than peace. Really think on this. What happens when you believe you need to take control and make something be different than it is? How does it feel?

    Can you see the insanity of insisting reality not be what it is? Small wonder well-meaning people are drowning in stress.

    Notice that when the nun-wife-widow surrenders to reality, her relationship to the world is brand new. She’s born again. And notice she doesn’t disengage and sit in a useless heap, all uncaring about anything.

    On the contrary, she quite naturally does what comes to her to do.

    ‘And it was good.’ (Mysterious, isn’t it?)

     

     

     

     

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  • CRONE TALES

    The Maiden Stuffed with Puppet Strings, a fairy tale for enlightenment

    November 7, 2019 /

    Stoke the fire on this chill and leafy autumn night. Though you’re sleepy from our heavy meal, keep wide awake. The crone is ready to tell her tiny tale, so open you mind and heart and find what meaning you will.

     

     

    There was a maiden who was neither pretty nor good at heart, a calamity.

    Her tongue was sharp, and she found fault in others as a matter of course. This led to a glaring absence of suitors upon her father’s front porch.

    Every night she stared at the stars from her bedroom window and knew this: God had made her wrong.

    A traveling puppet show arrived in our maiden’s village one fine summer evening. As fate would have it, when the colorful curtain parted, a villain-puppet appeared which bore an uncanny physical resemblance to our maiden. Not only this. The villain-puppet called the other puppets bad names and was overall insufferable.

    Eyes turned in our maiden’s direction. Her name did float upon the warm and pleasant air, and there was much snickering laughter. At last, our maiden’s father and mother did rush away with tears and rosy faces.

    The maiden felt dizzy as her heart failed to beat. No part of her body would move, not even her lips. Fervently, she willed herself to vanish from the world, so great was her humiliation. An old crone moved beside her and asked why she did weep.

    “They all believe me to be the awful puppet!” our maiden whispered with rage.    

    “And so you are,” the crone agreed. “But notice how the villain-puppet knows not what it does. Puppets are not real. And yet this one pulls its own strings, no matter there is someone behind the curtain who wishes to do so. I suppose you had not noticed.” The crone eyed our maiden. “I can rid you of the puppet, but there is a price.”

    Our maiden first glared at the rude puppet which indeed pulled its own strings. Second she glared at the crone. “What does your foolish talk mean? Never mind. I only want to be rid of that puppet!” 

    “Then you must cough up every lie in which you have faith. I can help. Hold still.” The crone grasped our maiden’s chin, pried open her jaw, and shoved a hand and arm down our maiden’s throat. With a grunt, the crone yanked out a tangled wad of puppet strings, dropping them upon the ground. 

    Our maiden blinked in surprise. “I never knew I was a puppet!” 

    Without her swallowed puppet strings, our maiden had nothing to believe. All of sudden, she became someone entirely quiet and unknown. “All this time, I am what stands behind the curtain!” she blurted. 

    “And wanting to come out. This is true of everyone else as well,” added the wise crone. “Therefore, go, and call no one bad names.”

    After this, our maiden was set free. No longer did she entertain false notions that God had made herself or anyone else wrong. Puppets were not real! And so, it made good sense to come out from behind the curtain and be kind to all she met.

    Next a curious thing did happen: many in the village did cough up puppet strings. 

    Heaven on earth is like this.

     

     

    If an angel named Clarence visited you, and suddenly you were like George Bailey in It’s A Wonderful Life, with no history BUT ALSO WITH NO MEMORY…

    Who would you be? Right here and now, who are you? If you can’t identify yourself by the curtain of your gender, name, personal history, talents, career, nothing at all—things get very quiet. The puppet collapses. And so, the curtain may as well come down.

    Enter the Real You.

    Be still, and sense into who you truly are. It will pass all your current understandings and take you into peace. And compassion. For our maiden forevermore was known to show great compassion to all who still believed in shame.

     

    A FEW RELEVANT QUOTES TO TAKE YOUR TIME AND PONDER:

     

    All the world’s a stage,

    And all the men and women merely players

    ~As You Like It, Shakespeare

     

    Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.”

    ~Luke 23:34

     

    We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human

    experience.

    ~Pierre Teilhard de Chardin 

     

    Your sacred space is where you can find yourself over and over again.

    ~ Joseph Campbell 

     

    “Enlightenment means waking up to what you truly are and then being that.”

    ~Adyashanti

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