-Grandma, how did it all came to be?
– The sky, the Forest, the birds, the stars?
– It’s late my boy. The fire is burning out and grandma is getting cold.
– But grandma, please.
-Some say it’s all a story we tell each other. Everytime you open your mouth you create it anew. That is why it’s always fresh like the Mountain stream and never stays the same. ThAT is why everything is possible.
– And when there were no words yet?
– Before words there was sounds. Listen to the fire, my boy…
-I am listening.
-And what do you hear?
– trzask as it breaks Little twigs and huk as it bites chews through the BIG logs.
– fire is the mouth of the God. We feed it and the God speaks to us.
-Yes, through fire. ThAT is how we learned the God’s tongue.
-The God’s language?
– Every Time the God trzasks a twig we answer with the clap of Our hands. We tied the strings together So we can strum as the God hums chewing Our Wood. Even during the Day we clap and we strum So the fire always Burns in Our loins.
-Why are we black as tar and they are White as snów?
-It wasn’t always this Way, my boy. A long Time ago everybody was the same color.
-Then we became their Shadow.
– Yes, of those that claim to be Born twice.
-Yes. Once as a human of flesh and Blood, and once as their character/role.
-Yes. A holy priest, mighty warrior, obedient peasant or honest merchant.
-Like the actor in the market place playing a role?
-And what is Our role?
-We didn’t Have a role. ThAT is why we did what anybody Else wanted to.
– Like what?
-We took their trash, cleaned their shit, wiped the Blood of their floors. We looked where they were disgusted to look, took care of what they wouldn’t touch. Our skin grew dark with their pain they wouldn’t show anyone, the dirt of their hearts. And they grew pale like the Blood sucking demons, from their ‘cleanliness’. Little did they know that with their dirt we sucked their life.
-If they need us why do they always chase us away? Why do we always Have to run?
-Because they are scared.
-Scared of what?
-Of Our dark wisdom. Of their own Shadow, pale with fear. They are like a baby too Young to take care of its own shit.
-They were scared even of Our touch. They made many petty laws. We stayed because they needed us. But Our hearts light as a Bird grew heavy with their suffering . We sang when we srubbed their floors, screamed their sorrow to the fire and when we were overburdened with baggage we started Our Voyage. We gave love to the unloved, show them the beauty they overlooked.
– They say we trick them…
– We show them what they need to See Just to teach them a lesson. When the tears wash their eyes they look at each other with love and cast their fears on us, the Others. And that’s the Way it should be. That’s the Way the World is. Black and White. Stillness and movement.
– Sad is Our life.
-True but false. We are the lowest of the low which makes us the Kings. Their hearts are cold and cut with lines and borders. They spend their life locked in prisons of Stone. Their life is like a broken pot and we are water that slips through the cracks back to the endless ocean.
-What is God like?
-God is the destroyer of death. It’s whatever name we throw in its face. It’s love, music, art. It’s Our Daily rituals, cooking meals, tending to Our homes, taking care of Our children.