• CRONE TALES

    The Bottle Without a Message, a fairy tale for enlightenment

    September 4, 2019 /

    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.

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  • CRONE TALES

    The Crone with No Ears to Hear, a fairy tale for enlightenment

    September 3, 2019 /

    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!!

     

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