The Big Question

After the death
Is

What about
His dog?

Grandmother Spider Brings the Light

(a retelling of a Cherokee myth)

Long, long ago, everything was dark.
All the living things that moved kept running into each other, and into mountains and trees. Everything was very, very confusing.

One day, Rooster said, “You know, what we need is some light!”

Fox said, “Hey, I’ve heard of that. And I’ve heard that over there, on the other side of the world, they have lots and lots of it but the animals are greedy there and will not share.”

Fish said, “The other side of the world? Well, I can’t swim that far!”

Gopher said, “I would go . . . but if I see my shadow, I have to go back to my den and sleep.”

Bear said, “I would rather hibernate, thank you very much.”
Rooster said, “Be that way! If we don’t get a sunrise around here, I swear, I will never crow again!”

“Well then,” said Possum, “I will just go steal some light and hide it in my beautiful, bushy tail.” (Yes, believe it or not, in those days, Possum had a beautiful, bushy tail.)

And so it was that Possum set off, and when he got to the other side of the world, there was sun, hanging from a tree. Up lept Possum, and grabbed a piece of the light. Possum tucked it into his beautiful bushy tail and ran. But the light was so hot, it burned all the fur from Possum’s tail. And so it is that Possum has a bald tail, even down to this day.

“Well, that was a failure!” said Buzzard. “But Possum is always messing things up. I shall go and steal some light and put it on my head.” (For in those days, buzzards had large, beautiful feathers all over their heads.)

And so it was that off Buzzard flew to the other side of the world. When he saw the sun, down Buzzard darted in a flash, balancing a piece of the light on his head.
And the light was so hot that it burned all the feathers off Buzzard’s head. So it is that Buzzard is bald, even down to this day.
The animals bumped into each other and into the trees and the mountains, and they felt very distressed, fearing that life would always be so. They did not like the dark one little bit.

And so it was that Grandmother Spider said, "If no one objects, I think I will try.”

“But you are so small and frail!” laughed Possum.

“Those greedy animals there, they will stomp on you and crush you!” said Raven.

Grandmother Spider ignored their laughter and began making a pot out of the clay of the earth. Then, she spun a web. And she spun and she spun until her web reached all the way to the other side of the world.

Off Grandmother Spider swung on her web, holding tightly to her clay pot. And, when she had gotten to the other side of the world, she swooped toward the sun hanging in a tree, grabbed a piece of the light, and immediately stuffed it into the clay pot. Then, off she went on her spider web, back to the other side of the world.

And so it was that Grandmother Spider brought many things to this side of the world—firstly, she brought the knowledge of how to make clay pots; secondly, she brought fire, for cooking and for when the sun isn’t up; and, lastly and most of all, Grandmother Spider brought this side of the world the light of the sun.

A Story for Winter Solstice

Once there was a time when always it was spring, with the singing of birds, beautiful flowers, and lush greenness all the year through. In this world lived a young girl named Persephone who loved to dance and play in the sunny meadow as her mother, Demeter, Goddess of Growth and Grain, looked on, and her father, none other than Zeus himself, the sky god, watched from Mount Olympus. As Persephone would dance and sing, she gathered beautiful flowers. She could never decide if the hyacinth or the narcissus was her favorite.

Many of the gods on Olympus courted Persephone—Hermes, the fleet-footed messenger of the gods; Ares, the fearsome god of wars; Hephaestus, the marvelous blacksmith; and even Apollo, most handsome and most accomplished of the gods. But despite all their courting, Persephone went on dancing in the green and eternal spring days.

One day when Persephone was out dancing among the flowers, she heard a very strange sound. Then she heard it again. And again. Persephone looked and looked for the sound, and eventually she came to a very deep and dark hole in the ground. The strange sound was coming from somewhere deep inside the earth. Persephone listened and listened and—because she leaned so far to hear the sound—she fell into the hole.

Persephone fell and fell in the darkness.

Finally, she felt a stone floor, and who should be there, as surprised as she was, but Hades, the fearsome god of the underworld. He immediately fell deeply and hopelessly in love with Persephone.

Meanwhile, up above, on the earth, Persephone’s mother Demeter, Goddess of Growth and Grain, was looking for her daughter. Demeter called and called and searched and searched everywhere, but it was as if Persephone had simply vanished. In her grief, Demeter forgot about the flowers and trees and grasses and grains, and as she mourned, all green things died. Thus it was that winter came upon the world for the first time.

Meanwhile, in the underworld, Hades said to Persephone: “You don’t appear to be dead!”

“No, I don’t think I am,” said Persephone. “I was listening to a very odd sound, and I fell into a deep hole. So this is the Underworld?”

“Yes, welcome,” Hades said, “Most likely, it was the beating of the oars on Charon’s boat. He brings the dead here across a river.”

“I like it here,” Persephone said, “even if I’m not dead.”

“I’m very pleased,” said Hades. “Why don’t you stay? You can be wife and the queen of my realm.”

Persephone thought that was a very good idea.

Meanwhile, up on the earth’s surface, Demeter searched and searched, weeping all the while, and, instead of being healthy and full of life, as the eternal gods always are, Demeter had in her grief aged and withered as had all the living things on the face of the earth. Soon, Demeter could barely walk, and so she despaired of ever finding her dear daughter, and so as a last resort she went to Olympus, home of the gods, to see if Zeus could find Persephone.

When Demeter arrived on Olympus, she immediately caught wind of the rumors that her dear daughter was alive and well and living in the Underworld. And so, off she went to Zeus, insisting that Persephone be returned to her at once.

Zeus was by this time quite concerned that every living thing upon the earth would perish if Demeter did not return to her job of caring for growth and the grains, and so Zeus dispatched the swift-footed Hermes to the underworld with a stern warning to Hades to send Persephone home at once.

But what should Hermes find upon his arrival in the underworld but a radiant, laughing Persephone who was having a marvelous time in her role of Queen of All the Dead. Persephone loved greeting the newly arrived dead; she enjoyed chatting with them about their lives; and she enjoyed helping everyone to get comfortable in their new abode in the Underworld.

The startled Hermes rushed to Persephone and said, “Your mother is worried sick about you!”

“Oh!” said Persephone, “I had forgotten all about that other world!”

“But you must return!” said Hermes. “The world above is in a terrible state.”

“But I love it here!” Persephone said. “I love my work and I love my husband Hades!”

“But all the earth is dying because of the sadness of Demeter!” Hermes protested.

And so it was that Persephone reluctantly returned to the Upperworld to visit her mother. When she appeared, immediately, the sun began to glow again, and the earth grew warm and green, and the flowers bloomed beautifully.

Yet, just as the Upperworld had grown warm and fruitful again, Hades and all those who lived in his kingdom had grown sad without Persephone.

So it was that Zeus had a problem. And he thought and thought and finally found a solution. A compromise that we live with to this day. So it is that every year, at the Summer Solstice, Persephone packs her bags and heads for the Underworld to visit her husband Hades. And the days grow short and the light grows dim and the flowers fade and soon it becomes winter. But Hades and all the dead are very happy.

Then, at the Winter Solstice, Persephone packs her bags and leaves the Underworld. And when she does, the days grow longer and longer and the light begins to return to this world and once again the flowers prepare to return. And her mother Demeter is very happy.

adapted by David Breeden

Devotional Volume

Those of you
Who wrestled
all night
with an angel,

when was it
--at what point
did you realize--
it was no body?

When was it
you found that
the breath
came in,
saving grace,

and went out,
saving grace,
both ways
the same?

When was it
you found
the courage
to insist
on blessing?

I will call you
all of you
those who
wrestle with
an angel
all night.

John Keats

The Sun, the Moon, the Earth and its contents, are material to form greater things, that is, ethereal things—greater things than the Creator himself made.

A Pantoum on Self Destruction based on Aesop

An eagle was soaring through the air
When suddenly she heard
The whiz of an arrow
And felt her death-wound.

When suddenly she heard,
Slowly she fluttered to the earth
And felt her death-wound.

And the feather on its shaft was hers.

Slowly she fluttered to the earth.
The whiz of an arrow—
And the feather on its shaft was hers

An eagle was soaring through the air.

Skinny Night Bear: A Children’s Story about Fear and Imagination

When I was a kid, I was afraid of the dark, though I wasn’t afraid of just anything in the dark; I was afraid of the Skinny Night Bear.
Perhaps you haven’t heard of the Skinny Night Bear. My parents hadn’t! And I’m not for certain just where I heard of the Skinny Night Bear either. But I was very, very afraid of the Skinny Night Bear.
Like my parents, I’m still not exactly sure what a Skinny Night Bear looks like, but I am pretty sure it is black and white, because TVs were all in black and white when I was a kid. This made television a whole lot scarier. (Or at least I think so.) I am pretty sure I got the idea on television.
According to my vague fear, the Skinny Night Bear looked in some ways like a skeleton, the sorts that are everywhere at Halloween. Skeletons are certainly “skinny.” I am less sure where I got the “bear” part of my fantasy, except that bears are tall and scary when they stand on their hind legs. I am sure I had seen bears on television—in black and white.
The “night” part is easier to explain. As I said earlier, the dark scared me.
One last detail concerning the Skinny Night Bear: I was convinced it had wheels. This detail doesn’t exactly make sense, except that wheels make things go fast, and I was convinced that a Skinny Night Bear would come rushing into my bedroom.
The point is that I don’t know exactly what a Skinny Night Bear looks like. . .because I never actually SAW a Skinny Night Bear, despite all the time I spent LOOKING for one.
The Skinny Night Bear was scary because it lived in my imagination. And this is why the Skinny Night Bear was a creature of the dark: darkness is the place where our imaginations are most at play. I could create the vision of a Skinny Night Bear on the darkness in my room, just as I THOUGHT I had seen him on the black and white television. But the fact is, I never saw such a thing anywhere.
I created the Skinny Night Bear out of fear, in my own imagination.

Which is one thing about fear: We imagine having a medical procedure; we think it’s going to be terrible, yet when we have it. . . it’s not all that bad. Fear encourages our imaginations to run away with us—as if they were on wheels. Imagination is a wonderful human ability, but it can run away with us, especially when fear gets involved.
Sometimes we have to stop.
And take a deep breath.
And relax.
And really look at the things that scare us.
When we take some time to consider, things like Skinny Night Bears aren’t even there. And things like medical procedures usually aren’t all that bad.
As for the dark— it can be a very friendly place. Even a place where we imagine good things, like friendly purple dragons or big yellow fish. And, if you really try, maybe even a friendly Skinny Night Bear on wheels.
So much of what we are is in the words and the imagination.

It’s poetry all the way down.