{"id":171,"date":"2013-01-24T05:00:00","date_gmt":"2013-01-24T05:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/2c80b1a0-9ac4-438f-bc72-5278e3a49f11"},"modified":"2013-01-24T05:00:00","modified_gmt":"2013-01-24T05:00:00","slug":"the-shadow-the-tree-and-the-heart-of-darkness-a-story-of-hope","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/?p=171","title":{"rendered":"The Shadow, the Tree, and the Heart of Darkness, A Story of Hope"},"content":{"rendered":"

Good Day, Dear Wonder Child Blog
\nReaders,<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

Today\u2019s entry is a story inspired by
\nDr. Jean Raffa<\/a> and her wonderful blog, Matrignosis<\/a>.  Her last few posts have been about shadow
\nwork, and this story, \u201cThe Shadow, The Tree, and the Heart of Darkness,\u201d came
\ntumbling out in about 20 minutes after reading her latest and beautiful entry,
\nThe Light Shadow<\/a>.  Jeanie is gracious enough
\nto allow me to submit my stories to her blog as comments.  Imagine that, someone who welcomes four-page
\ncomments (I welcome them too, by the way)! 
\nAnywho, this story is about a shadow, a girl playing the recorder, a tree, the Heart of Darkness, and yes, hope.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

The Shadow, the
\nTree, and the Heart of Darkness<\/o:p><\/span><\/u><\/b><\/p>\n

For Jeanie, the wisest
\nsnowy owl I know.<\/o:p><\/span><\/i><\/p>\n


<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

 <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSo,\u201d said
\nthe Shadow, born in the woods, \u201cthis is it. 
\nThis is where I grow.\u201d  She looked
\nbehind her at the sun just beginning to set and she smiled a delicious smile.  \u201cExcellent,\u201d she grinned, and as she spoke
\nshe elongated, spidering out, touching everything around her, and everything
\naround her crumpled just a little bit as her fingers passed over them.  Not that it hurt.  Her touch was simply cold.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

The tree
\nwhose base she was connected to swayed a little as she moved out over the
\nforest floor.  She swayed with him.  He leaned just far enough for the squirrel in
\na neighboring tree to be able to land in his boughs.  The shadow leaned too.  When the tree caught the song of the wind in
\nhis highest branches he had to sing.  As
\nhe sang he swayed even more than before, and as he did the squirrels and the
\nbirds in his arms closed their eyes, enjoying the ride.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAh, excuse
\nme, tree?\u201d the shadow interrupted.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

For a long,
\nannoying moment, the tree just kept singing and swaying, ignoring her, or
\nsimply not hearing her, she didn\u2019t know which.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYo!  Tree!\u201d she shouted.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

Slowly, in
\nhis own time, the tree swayed to a stop and his voice trailed off over the
\nhillside like a whispered secret.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he
\nsaid softly.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWould you
\nmind not moving so much?  I\u2019m trying to
\nspread out here and it\u2019s hard to grab things when you\u2019re dancing.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI see,\u201d he
\nsaid, \u201cand why are you trying to grab things?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what
\nI do, I\u2019m a shadow.  Shadow\u2019s grab
\nthings, take them under their wings, tuck them in the folds of their coats,
\nstuff them into their pockets, smother them with affection.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI see,\u201d the
\ntree said again, \u201cand why do you do these things?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just
\nwhat I do.  Now would you stand still for
\na few minutes, please?  You see that girl
\nover there, the one playing the recorder on that rock?  I want to reach her next before the sun gets much
\nlower.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat will
\nhappen to her when you reach her?\u201d asked the tree.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll stop
\nplaying.  Doubts will creep in.  She\u2019ll think I mean more than I do.  She\u2019ll bring to mind her parent\u2019s displeasure
\nof her music.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd then?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019ll stop
\nplaying for years.  And a little piece of
\nmy soul will graft onto her and when she gets up to walk home I will go with
\nher. And the next time she thinks about playing the recorder, she\u2019ll stop and
\nthink about displeasing her parents and she won\u2019t play.  She\u2019ll stay nice and cozy in me.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI see,\u201d
\nsaid the tree, \u201cI think I am going to sing again.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo!  Wait!\u201d 
\nDamn!\u201d yelled the shadow, but it was too late.  The tree was singing, swaying; only this time
\nhis swaying was more of a swirl.  This
\ntime his singing was more of a chant. 
\nThis time he threw his voice across the path to where the girl sat
\nplaying recorder.  He joined her melody,
\njoined her breath, joined her fingering, and she looked up, felt his presence,
\nrose and began to dance.  She danced
\ntowards him.  She bowed with all the
\ngrace of the dawn and he bowed in return. 
\n<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAh, thank
\nyou,\u201d said the shadow, \u201cyou have brought her closer.\u201d  And as the shadow began climbing the girl\u2019s
\nleg, the tree bent down and lifted the girl onto his shoulders.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDamn you,\u201d
\nyelled the shadow.  And before she knew
\nwhat was happening, the tree bent down and hoisted her up as well.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWait a minute!  What are you doing?\u201d the shadow screamed.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

But the tree
\nhe just kept singing.  The tree he just
\nkept dancing.  And the girl sensed the
\nshadow\u2019s presence and saw her there on the branch next to her.  And in a moment that froze time; in a moment
\nthat stopped the turning of the earth; in a moment where the forest and all of
\nthe trees, and all living things\u2014the hills and the water\u2014the birds and the
\nplanets\u2014all of them paused, stopped, for the girl had reached out and touched
\nthe shadow\u2019s hand.  The shadow trembled
\nlike water and instantly burst into tears. 
\nThe girl leaned over and embraced her, and the tree threw leaves and
\nsobs to the wind.  He swayed and he
\ndanced, and the sky broke open in waves of silken purples and crimsons; the sun
\nsmiled, winked his eye, and bowed in deference to the moon.  The moon appeared, saw the embrace and
\ninstantly sent down a silver shawl to cover them both, and there they sat in
\neach other\u2019s arms as the world began to turn and dance again.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

After a long
\nwhile, the girl let go and wiped the shadow\u2019s tears, looking at her dark,
\nmysterious face.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was
\nplaying for you,\u201d she said.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d said
\nthe shadow, \u201cWhat did you say?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI knew you
\nwere there.  I saw you coming.  I have spent time in many a shadow.  I know what\u2019s inside you\u2014the voices of doubt,
\nself-criticism, shame.  I know the fear
\nyou carry.  I also know that your desire
\nto surround me isn\u2019t purely selfish. 
\nThere is comfort in your wings, there is silence in the hallways of your
\nheart, there are theatres in your mind where I can act out the scenes of my
\nlife, and you know very well all that would give me a safe place to hide from
\nmy parents.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI did not
\nmean to harm you,\u201d said the shadow.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d
\nsaid the girl.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe truth
\nis I wanted to collect you into my folds with the hope you would one day find
\nthe courage to face your family and just be yourself.  You couldn\u2019t do that without me.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d
\nsaid the girl.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHow do you
\nknow these things?\u201d asked the shadow.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe tree
\ntells me,\u201d she said, \u201che sings to me, so do the birds and the streams, and the
\nroots and rocks.  My dreams tell me, my
\nmusic tells me, the caterpillar becoming a butterfly tells me.  They tell me that everything shadow-dappled
\nis beautiful.  That shadows are part of
\nthe way of light.  In fact, without
\nshadows there would be no light.  On my
\nlong walks in nature I have come to terms with my parent\u2019s disapproval.  I have come to terms with my sadness and
\npain. I have come to terms with the fact that I will have to strike out on my
\nown in order to live my dreams.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNot alone,\u201d
\ninterjected the tree.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d
\nblushed the girl, \u201cYou\u2019re right, not alone. 
\nI carry the tree\u2019s love in my heart, his beauty and steadfastness, his
\ndesire to shelter and\u2026\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cTo shade,\u201d
\nlaughed the tree.<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWait a
\nminute,\u201d said the shadow sitting up, \u201cyou\u2019re a part of all of the work I do, of
\ncourse!  Why didn\u2019t I see it before?\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou weren\u2019t
\nlooking,\u201d laughed the tree, \u201cbut the fact is without objects, real or imagined,
\nto block the light, you wouldn\u2019t exist. 
\nI know your coldness can be refreshing. 
\nYour shade can help the weary traveler. 
\nIt\u2019s all in how you desire to be used.\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

At that
\nmoment the sun went down completely and the woods went entirely black, black as
\ncoal.  <\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOh my,\u201d
\nsaid the girl, leaping down from the tree, \u201cI\u2019m late.  Oh goodness, how am I going to get home?  It\u2019s pitch black!\u201d<\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

Then the
\nshadow leapt down, opened her wings, and said, \u201cLet me take you through the
\ndarkness.  I know the heart of the
\ndarkness, we are part and parcel of one another.  You may have spent time in a shadow before,
\nbut what I carry deep within me, only those who have eyes that can pierce the
\ndarkness know what I carry deep inside.  I
\npromise to bring you home safely.  You
\nhave helped me see my own light, let me share with you the heart of darkness.\u201d  The shadow opened her arms and invited the girl
\nin.  The girl turned, embraced the tree
\nand then walked slowly into the shadow\u2019s arms. 
\nDarkness engulfed her like black water. 
\nShe held her breath until she opened her eyes and when she did, in the
\nheart of the heart of the shadow, was a cathedral lit by a thousand candles,
\nthe moon was there delivering homilies on the alchemy of grieving, the sun was there
\nsmiling, listening from the first row, tears steaming from his face.  She felt herself being lifted, the entire
\ncathedral of the night lifted with her and spun gently, like a giant ship in an
\nocean of ink, and turned in the direction of her house.  She laughed and sat down next to the sun and
\nlistened far into the night about images, and wonder, about hope and the power
\nof praise, about how laughter and tears walk hand in hand, about how light and
\nshadow live and breathe and dance as one. <\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

And the
\ntree?  The tree leaned into the darkness,
\nand held a place for the sleeping birds and squirrels.  He also held a place, high up in his highest
\nbranches, for that winged, piece of the moon\u2014the snowy white owl, who can see
\ninto the shadows and find sustenance where no one else would ever think to
\nlook. <\/o:p><\/span><\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Copyright Joseph Anthony of the Wonder Child Blog<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Good Day, Dear Wonder Child Blog Readers, Today\u2019s entry is a story inspired by Dr. Jean Raffa and her wonderful blog, Matrignosis.  Her last few posts have been about shadow work, and this story, \u201cThe Shadow, The Tree, and the Heart of Darkness,\u201d came tumbling out in about 20 minutes after reading her latest and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[16],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/171"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=171"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/171\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=171"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=171"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/thewonderchildblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=171"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}