Eve paused her story to look toward me. She saw my eyes for the first time. You see it don't you, in the time you come from? Yes. For us in our time the many realities are becoming hidden and a stench grows. Not all give their power to a singular order. Those that do can not see all the realities there, hugging them as close as the width of a leaf. That wind when it is stilled, where no leaf moves, is an alarming phenomenon in many parts of the world. I encouraged her to go on. When sitting in such a vibrant garden and the gardener wishes to tell me a story, I listen. Please continue Eve, I'm listening.
Along the edge in the far east of Eden a rim developed. I began to put on fins that afforded me here. It was luscious swimming, far away from any hint of time. The stream grew to a river and gratitude was birthed. During this Eden, all that lived in the garden knew their first birth. I swam often in this flow from Source that sourced all potential, the birthing place. It is an uncontainable flow that knows creation.
We looked at each other for a brief moment, as she opened the understanding from this river to the making of the human heart. We giggled at the marvel of it's forming. Then my wonder drew to me and I glanced into another story she knew. But she closed the curtains on that wisp, the width of that leaf turning closed. It was a seeing into the forming of hearts among the trees. Remember, she said, you want to hear the ending of this story. That is your challenge, to fully end one story before diving into another. You will get better at this, it is a challenge many face when the winds dance freely about them and the heart of trees open their wisdoms to them. She gave me a trickster's smile, and I laughed so hard knowing the road that will take me back here for the next story.
Eve continued. Each time I stepped from the river, fins to feet, water drops fell. You might call them inventions or new creations, rain droplets from the act of this transition. There at the edge of Eden was fresh newness all lit up, threads from Source. I was young then and did not know how to stay with the forming of them.
We gazed at each other and a twinkle of knowing the power of stories whispered between us.
I became sad and frequently traveled back west to hold the company of Adam. He was so lonely and continued to refuse to follow me and give his fins a try. As I held his companionship, I watched him step by step overcome his fear of losing the Beauty of Eden. When he looked upon me in those places of fear, he saw me as reckless. He would say, "To give up your feet and leave the sanctuary of Eden is stupidity." We both remember that first time that word was spoken. We laugh at that point in the story, him speaking it and me creating storms from the hearing of it. In this stepping away from his fear, he created an apple tree.
She saw my understanding of what such a feat meant. To bring in creation at the west side of Eden when the undercurrent was loud and stinky,"order, order, order", was the birthing of miracles.
He offered this floral gift to me and I spent many a story close to the apple tree with him. Together we sprouted the most luscious green vital force, a mere sprout then. This is when wonder was born. The tree's flowers blossomed into fruit. We ate the apples and wondered what else we could create together. We did not know our delight threatened that singular voice. That voice that killed the movements of wind and rotted the dream of creation. One night asleep under the apple tree we dreamt and saw a spiral form in the void. The singularity of a one sided order, thought it could stop all of creation. But I knew this was not the case, I saw the face at the core of the spiral, Adam could not. He had spent no time in the river from Source.
She turned to look at me, a fierce Goddess now thundering, yet holding the calm of her storms within the grace and containment of experience. When I saw this into an image I could understand, she brought that image into a mask that covered her eyes. Through this veil I glimpsed at the face she dreamt. Primal winds like none my body in bed had ever experienced came into the space we shared. I became afraid for my physical body, so newly birthed. She took my hand, stepped me back into the telling of her story and the winds shifted to the gentlest of rhythm. In this transition, I glimpsed another story. Again her eyes in a shift of that trickster smile, warned me to wait before I went chasing after it. In this experience with her, learned something of the trickster way. I could offer a glimpse of further story and then command attention of the listener back to the story unveiling into knowing. I am good at practicing past a challenge. I will find the story I thought to myself, of the child re-born from the zephyrus winds. Before she spoke into an ending of the story of her fall from Eden, we sat for a pause in the garden so that I might come all the way back to myself.
This benevolence turned as a feared faced parent, and spoke through Adam. "You can gaze upon your creation together, but never taste it's fruits." " Why bring need into this paradise I have created?" "Why wonder into a desire of more?" "Is this perfection not enough?" I refused sadness when Adam formed resentment and harbored it's energy toward change. Conflict rose up between us, the companions. It was from this conflict I learned to bring story from beyond the east of Eden to the west. I offered Adam a compromise. "If you still feel we should not eat the apples after you have wore your fins and swam in the river just beyond east of Eden, then I also will stop eating those luscious red creations."
I watched her take a long last breath of this story before it's end. Eve please hurry now, I am drifting back to my body in bed.
It came to past that in Adam's transition from fins to feet, he was unable to contain his love for creation. He ran with a power of wind that I was not able to follow. I was in awe of his quickness. In my pause I noticed he left his fins behind. I took both of ours and stored them deep into a chamber within. When I made it to the apple tree I also could not contain my love as I watched him take the first glorious bite. I strolled over and in a graceful gesture of movement, gently grasped and took a bite and then another. I reached to grasp a seed before it feel and placed it into a warm fertile chamber within. While holding Adams hand, within our wild wonder, we laughed and tumbled to Earth.
As I drifted back to my body in bed I saw her trickster eyes flare and wondered of the story of how she would present Adam his fins.
Art by Kimberly Webber
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