How Flowers Got Their Colors (A 4-Part Myth)

Copyright 2011-All Rights Reserved

Scene 4:Mother Nature’s Place


Sweet William felt more than a bit nervous clinging to Maggie, the magpie’s feathers as she rode the air currents. He thought about what had happened to keep his mind off the fact that he was perched on the back of a bird flying high in the sky.

It had started with Rufus spotting his homeboy, Melvin, and hailing him. Coincidentally, Melvin and his three friends had just been over to see Mother Nature about an important item of business and were on their way back home. Rufus and Melvin had jived around telling some tall tales, laughing, and wing-slapping, and before anybody knew it, the magpies had volunteered to help the bedraggled little flowers and their three companions. Next thing, Sweet William knew, each of the flowers had mounted on one of the magpies’ backs, and now they were all headed to Mother Nature’s place. He was riding on the back of Maggie, the Magpie.

William looked over his left shoulder at Lavender. She clutched the neck of her magpie, Peter, looking like she was going to faint. “Eeeehh!” She screeched, roiling from one side to the other like some drunken who knows what. She’d been screeching since the magpies had taken wing. Sweet William pursed his delicate lips and grunted in disgust. Some folk just don’t have any dignity, he said to himself.

On the other hand, Tiger Lily, up ahead, appeared to be having the time of her life riding on the back of Melvin. On William’s right, Impatiens was yakking it up to his magpie, Minerva, and to Rufus who was flying close enough to hear him. Bessie Mae and Heather brought up the rear of the strange-looking caravan. It wasn’t long before the magpies began to glide downwards, coming in for a landing.

Below, the tops of trees growing on the sides and at the foot of the mountain appeared to Sweet William to be getting closer and closer. Lavender’s screech had now become an all out scream. Sweet William closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the landing and he wished with all his heart that Lavender would shut up. He took a big breath and held on for dear life.



Suddenly, two things happened: Sweet William felt a jolt and Lavender stopped screaming. He opened his eyes to find that Rufus was hovering inches away from his eyes.

“You okay, little man?” Rufus asked.

“Watch out who you call ‘little,’ mister!” William snapped and climbed, with as much dignity as he could muster, down from his magpie’s back. “Thanks for the ride.”

“My pleasure,” said Maggie the Magpie, and spread her wings, gliding upwards.

The glade they had landed in was thickly forested. The other magpies gently landed and let their flower passengers slide to the ground. Rufus and Melvin said their goodbyes while the flowers looked around. Yards away, there was a laughing, bubbling pond filled with lily pads.

There was a brown-skinned woman robed in a blue standing at the edge of a lilypond. She splashed water on her hair, body and face. Droplets hung from the black thicket of curls framing her face.

“That must be Mother Nature,” said Impatiens. “Let’s go.” He started forward the others fell in behind him.

“I think we might want to wait,” said Heather Honeybee. “She’s busy right now.”

“Forget that. Let’s find out what she can do to help us,” said Rufus.

Bessie Mae added: “I agree with Rufus and Impatiens. We’ve come a very long way. We ought to get on with it.” They started toward the river where the woman was.

A peacock and a multi-colored tree frog rushed up to confront the party as they drew near Mother Nature.

Peacock waddled in front of them and stopped, then spread his feathers to signify that the party was to go no further.“This is private sanctuary for Mother Nature,” he announced. “She does not receive here.”

“It’s time for her spa soak now,” croaked Frog. “Every evening, she takes a spa soak here.”

Peacock threw Frog a nasty look for trying to take over his job. “This is her time to relax and rebalance. Very important for her … maintaining serenity and harmony. It’s in all our best interests that Mother Nature stay balanced and serene, don’t you agree? Nasty things could happen if she doesn’t, you know. Therefore, she must not be interrupted.” Peacock turned his backside to them in dismissal.

“You’ll have to go,” croaked Frog.

“But, but… we’ve come such a long, long way to see her,” cried Lavender in a very shrill and annoying voice.

Mother Nature was listening. “Let them come,” she told Peacock and splashed her way out of the lilypads back to the river bank.

“As you say, Mother,” Peacock said, bowing. “A small group of flowers, a bee, a butterfly, and a hummingbird are here to see you, madam.”

She turned to the peacock. “Stop putting on airs, Peacock. I’m not madam, just plain Moms or Mother to everybody.”


Properly chastised, Peacock stepped back and bowed. On the ground near the bank, there was a long, brown robe of woven grasses decorated with sparkling green vines and red berries. Mother picked up the robe and draped it from her left shoulder; her feet were bare. She sat on a tree stump and beckoned the little party to come closer. “Now, what can I do for you people?”

“We want you to give us colors!” Blurted Tiger Lily.

“They," Lavender pointed to Bessie Mae Butterfly, Rufus Hummingbird, and Heather Honeybee who were standing to one side,"told us flowers are supposed to have colors but we don’t have any.”

Sweet William took up the chorus. “I know that I should be looking better than this. It’s downright embarrassing that we have to be seen like this.”

Heather spoke up: “If they don’t have colors, we can’t do our jobs.”

“What will happen to the earth,” asked Bessie Mae, “if we can’t pollinate the way we’re supposed to?”

“Hmm,” said Mother Nature. “This is very serious indeed. Things are not in balance the way I planned.” She looked at Peacock. “Color assignment is your department. What happened to the flowers' colors when they vibrated in?”

“Frog,” Peacock said, “get me the ledger.”

Frog hopped a few feet away to a tree where a digital notebook was kept, and brought it back. All the records of creation were kept in these digital files. It was there that they could find out when, where, and what happened at the time things came to be in this dimension. Frog watched while repeatedly Peacock tapped the screen. Peacock’s expression kept changing as he read the information on the screen. Curiosity melted into confusion. Confusion became and irritated expression.

“Well,” Mother Nature’s voice rang out, “what happened?”

Peacock looked very annoyed. “Someone dropped the ball, it seems. See that pathway over there?” Everyone’s head swiveled in the direction Peacock was pointing.

“Just over that hill was where the flowers were to line up and receive their colors as they vibrated into existence.”

“Well why didn’t we?” Impatiens chimed in. “How in the world did we get left out?”

Rufus looked over at Sweet William. “Hold your horses, man. They workin on it.”

“As I said, there was a glitch and you didn’t get your colors. I do apologize,” said Peacock, looking embarrassed.

Sweet William was thoroughly exasperated. “Oh, never mind that. Just please fix us quick!”

Mother Nature spoke softly. “It’s not that simple at this point.”

“What?” Exclaimed Bessie Mae Butterfly. “Why not?”

“Because there are certain natural laws that won’t allow it,” she said.

“But you make the laws, don’t you? You’re Mother Nature,” said Heather Honeybee.

She sighed. “It’s very complicated. I can try to explain it but my explanation won’t give you what you want.”

Tiger Lily was shaking with fury. Lavender was swooning in Rufus’ arms. Sweet William was so exasperated that he couldn’t speak—which was a first for him. Heather and Bessie Mae just looked at each other in helpless dismay.

Impatiens threw up his hands. “I can’t believe this! We suffered and struggled to get here to see you and it was all for nothing!”

Peacock said to Mother Nature: “Maybe there’s a loophole we can take advantage of.”

“Tell me what you’ve got in mind,” said Mother Nature and the two of them put their heads together for a serious discussion that lasted for about ten minutes before Mother Nature turned back to the group.

“Understand that I can’t go back and undo what’s done. But I can tinker with it. Tweak it." She looked at each of the members of the group. "What do you think of this plan? When it’s cold during the winter season, you flowers won’t have color; in fact, you won’t be blooming. But in spring and summer and part of the fall, and even winter in some warm places, you’ll be a glorious riot of color! Do you think it might work?”

“Sounds workable to me,” Bessie Mae Butterfly commented.

“Am I going to be glorious?” screeched Lavender.

“Most assuredly,” Peacock answered. “You all will  be very pleased, as will Miss Butterfly, Miss Honeybee and Mr. Hummingbird because they’ll be able to do their jobs.”

“They might be pleased, but I’m not sure I am,” said Impatiens.

Sweet William glared at his friend. “Well, it’s better than nothing!”

“And nothing is what we’ve got right now,” growled Tiger Lily.

Impatiens sighed. “Let’s get on with it!”

“When can we make this change?” asked Heather. “I need to get back to the hive; they’ll be wondering where I am.”

Mother Nature nodded. “You’re in luck because we’re at the beginning of the spring season. When we pop you back to your meadow, you’ll be in full colorful bloom. See to it, Peacock. And this time, no mistakes!”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Heather saw the air beginning to shimmer, then vibrating with glowing color, as if the sky had become a huge, endless rainbow. Suddenly, Heather felt a swoosh of air and heard a pop! As she looked about, she saw the meadow where they’d all begun their journey. Only now, it was a riot of color.

“Look at that! Flowers with color everywhere!” Heather said as Bessie Mae and Rufus flew to her side.

“Hot damn! We’re in business!” exclaimed Rufus.


Bessie Mae said: “Thank goodness for Mother Nature!”


And the three began their work of gathering nectar, just as Mother Nature originally intended.



Meanwhile, Sweet William, Tiger Lily, Impatiens, and Lavender excitedly spoke of their own and other flowers who were blooming with so many wondrous colors.

“I can’t get over how beautiful I am!” Purred Tiger Lily, who was no longer in the mood to growl and gnash her teeth.

Lavender, who had calmed down considerably, whispered: “How delightful I look! And how delicious I smell!”

“I have many colors—and they’re all spectacular!” Declared Impatiens.

“Girlfriend, don’t you forget: I’m the star of this show!” Preened Sweet William, examining himself in the mirror.

Back at Mother Nature’s place, Peacock and Frog helped Mother Nature her tiptoe into the stream to finish the spa soak that had been interrupted.

“We did good work today, Peacock. Especially when we gave the flowers the colors they deserved and were meant to have.”

“As you say, Mother,” Peacock agreed.

“In the meantime," she said, "I’m taking time out to relax in my lilypond spa. Give me a half hour before you call me for anything, Peacock.”

“Of course, Mother.” He discreetly turned his back as she disrobed. “Frog, you take Mother’s robe, and put it there on the rock where she’ll be able to reach it.”

Frog did as he was told then hopped to Peacock’s side, for Peacock had opened the ledger again, anticipating tonight’s schedule.

Every hour, he had learned long ago, was a busy one when you worked with Mother Nature.

End
                                          The Meadow of flowers sporting a riot of color.

How Flowers Got Their Colors, Scene 3

Copyright 2011-All Rights Reserved 

3. Looking for Mother Nature

The party set out after the Council of Flowers decided to send four ambassadors--Sweet William, Tiger Lily, Impatients, and Lavender--to see Mother Nature. Heather Honeybee declared that she would fly a bit ahead as scout and check back at regular intervals to report. Bessie Mae  and Rufus stayed with the four ambassadors.

It was midmorning when they started the journey. Over hill and dale, they went for several hours with the sun beaming down. Sweet William felt a bit wilted from the sun, as did Impatients. They wanted to stop and rest but Butterfly urged them on, pointing out that they should want to quickly reach their destination quickly and solve their problems.

Tiger Lily agreed. "This trip is taking longer than we thought. We should keep going."

Soon, the company found themselves in a shady glade with overgrown, tall grasses on either side of them, and creeping vines covering the ground. The dim light and profuse foliage made it hard to judge the lay of the land, so it was tricky going for the little party. Several times, Lavender stumbled, but her companions kept her steady on her feet and they forged ahead.

Bessie Mae Butterfly was circling overhead and Rufus Hummingbird was flying a bit ahead of the Flowers when a piercing shriek cut through the air. At the sound, Rufus zoomed back and Bessie Mae dive bombed down through the thick foliage to see what was wrong. One, two, three…Bessie Mae counted as she circled over head. Where was the fourth Flower? Where was Sweet William?

Lavender continued to shriek while the others stood around her, their eyes following the direction of Lavender’s finger which was pointing at what looked like a large hole under a tree. “He fell down there! Down there! Help him!”

Rufus peeped in through the tree limbs with Bessie Mae hovering near. At the bottom of the hole was Sweet William who was shouting up at Lavender.

“Shut up, Miss Thing and get me out of here!”

“How?” She cried. “You’re too far down there!”

Tiger Lily leaned over the hole as far as she dared. “Can’t you climb up?”

“If I could, I would,” Sweet William snapped. “Get me out of here, now!”

“Anybody got any ideas?” Impatients asked, his voice riddled with frustration.

Nobody had noticed that near the entrance to the hole, Ananzi, the Spider, had spun a beautiful, crystalline web overhead. She rested on its strands, calmly witnessing the commotion. “I can help you,” she called out to Sweet William.

All heads swiveled in her direction. Sweet William gazed up, his eyes mesmerized by her tantalizing voice.

“Please, do,” he responded gratefully. “It seems I’m surrounded by grossly incompetent traveling companions who suffer from a deplorable and utter lack of imagination. Dear lady, being at your mercy, I am yours to command.” Sweet William had turned on the charm. If he could have, he would have bowed and doffed his hat to Ananzi, the Spider.

She smiled at his words. But her smile, Rufus noted, made her look like a bloodsucking vampire.

Rufus scowled and flew close to Bessie Mae, his wings going faster and faster. He had recognized her as Ananzi, the trickster. “I don’t like this. This babe is Ananzi, the trickster. Can’t trust her no kinda way. Remember the old spider and fly story?”

“Yes,” Bessie Mae said. “But what choice do we have? We don’t have a way to get him out.”

Ananzi spoke to Sweet William again. “I’ll send down a strand of my silk. You grab it and I’ll pull you up.”

Rufus whispered to Bessie Mae: “Let’s keep a sharp eye out.”

Ananzi spun a long strand of spider silk and shot it in his direction. Sweet William grabbed it and was swiftly lifted up. Ananzi angled the strand so that Sweet William was being pulled closer and closer to the glistening, beautiful web where she sat on her long, hairy spider legs. Just as he was within her reach, Butterfly and Hummingbird swooped over, took him by his tiny arms, and flew him away from her.

“What are you doing?” Sweet William demanded of them as they set him down beside his three friends.

“Yes,” said Ananzi, “I’d like to know that myself.” She looked peeved, as if she’d just missed out on a good meal.

“Thought we’d lend you a hand,” Bessie Mae explained, as she shooed the party of four on their way.

Rufus flew as close as he dared to Ananzi.“’Preciate cha, m’am, for all you done, but business calls, so we gots to slide.” 

“Hmmp!” Ananzi grunted, knowing she’d been outsmarted. “Next time don’t look to me for help.”

“It’s been real,” Rufus said and flew on to join the company.

Hours later, the party had long since reached the end of Meadow and their way turned into a rocky, dusty path which made it harder for the Flowers to walk.


Sun’s heat began to make them wish they’d thought to bring some water for refreshment. They felt tired, but wilted and dry.

The journey had become more of a challenge than anyone had imagined.
 

To make matters worse, Heather Honeybee, having scouted ahead, flew in and reported that the mountain where Mother Nature lived was still quite a ways off.


Heather, Rufus, and Bessie Mae took a quick conference on the situation. They felt sorry for the brave foursome. Though it was not their fault, they felt guilty that the journey was so hard on the Flowers. Unfortunately, no one had an idea about how to get to their destination quicker. They had no choice but to continue on their way.


It was late afternoon when Tiger Lily looked up at the sky. It had turned the color of charcoal and smoke. Gray bar clouds floated overhead like lost ships on an angry, unpredictable sea. “Look,” she said, “at how the sky has turned dark.”

Bessie Mae, observing the clouds, felt Wind rise. “We’re in for rain, I think.”

"Oh, no!” cried Lavender. “I put on my best frock. Rain will ruin it!”


“At least we’ll get refreshed by it,” Sweet William put in as he moped the sweat from his brow.

“Maybe the clouds will pass,” said Rufus.

As the party trudged on, rain pitter-pattered down. Lightly, at first, then harder. And harder still. Wind pushed the big, fat raindrops this way and that until they gathered into a stream that swirled around their feet, then rose to their ankles and legs. To their horror, the dusty road they had been traveling had quickly become a lake. The Flowers had to make a dash to the side of the road and take shelter under a very tall bush while Rufus, Heather, and Bessie Mae clung to some of its branches. Bush, or no bush, all of them were getting thoroughly soaked.

They hovered together miserably in a steady downpour. Nobody could find a dry spot. Frustration crackled in the air. “Let’s get out of here and go home,” Impatients shouted over the heavy patter of rain.

“Fool, we can’t move til it stops raining,” snapped Sweet William. He pointed to the washed out road where rain water had made a lake. “We can’t get across that. We’re marooned.”

“But I’m all wet!” Lavender whined.

Tiger Lily growled, “You don’t say?”

“Whose idea was this anyway?” Impatients asked. “We should have never left home. This is crazy! As soon as it stops raining, I’m for heading back.”

Sweet William agreed. “This does seem to be a disastrous undertaking. We’re putting ourselves at risk. And we’re not even sure where we’re going! I vote to go back.” The other two nodded their heads as well.

“No! We’ve got to keep going! ” Urged Heather, keenly aware that this was a life or death mission for her and her bee colony. For what would honeybees do without the nectar of flowers?

“Why don’t we wait until the rain stops to make a decision?” suggested Bessie Mae.

“Yeah. Don’t jump the gun, folks just because we’ve run into a few little problems!” Said Rufus.

“Little!!” growled Tiger Lily.

For the next hour, nobody said a word. Finally, the rain stopped. But there was so much water that they would need a boat to move from the spot where they’d been marooned. The three winged companions moved into conference mode.

“We need a change of luck,” Heather declared.

"You think?” asked Rufus in his most sarcastic tone.

Rufus eyed a flock of black and white birds that had flown in and lighted on tree limbs nearby. They were magpies and they were jabbering at each other like nobody’s business. Rufus recognized the voice of one of them.


“Say, man!” said Rufus, beating his tiny wings faster and faster to hover near the four birds. “I ain’t seen you in month of Sundays! How you be?”



Next: Scene 4









photo courtesy of http://www.weforanimals.com/









 

How Flowers Got Their Colors, scene 2

Copyright 2011-All Rights Reserved

2. The Flowers

Honeybee was in a dither. "What do you mean that the Flowers have no colors? How can I got back and tell that to my unit commander? They'll laugh me out of the colony if I tell them a story like that!"

"Word!" Shouted Hummingbird. "You trippin Butterfly. No-color Flowers? That's wack!"

"Yes," Butterfly agreed. "It sounds far-fetched, all right. But, what do you see when you look down there?"

They all looked down, shocked at the sight of the gray, ghostly things from which they were supposed to gather nectar.

If these are Meadow's Flowers, Butterfly thought to herself, the sight of them is altogether depressing. Not one of them attracts. Not one summons us with brilliant, glowing color. How sad!

Aloud, she said "We could stand here all day wondering and debating. the only real way to find out if they're Flowers is to ask them." And she fluttered down with the other two following and landed on a blade of grass.

Hummingbird, wings beating faster than ever, hovered just above Butterfly and spoke to a clump of 'something' on the ground. "Say, can you tell me where the Flowers at round here? We been checking out Meadow, but we can't find the place to play, so to speak. Can you help us out?"

Honeybee elaborated further: "We don't see any colors so we know there can't be Flowers here. Please tell us where to find them!"

There was an audible gasp from all the Flowers. Their petals shook in unified indignation.

But it was Sweet William who spoke first: "How dare you!" He huffed. "I don't believe I've ever been quite so insulted in all my days!"

"Of all the nerve!" Said Impaitents, indignant and angry. "What do you think we are? Weeds!"

Honeybee was flabbergasted. "You mean you really are Flowers?"

"Not too bright are you?" Snapped Impatients, living up to her name. "Of course, we're Flowers. Anyone with a half a brain can see that!"

Butterfly fluttered up and down angrily, then decided to challenge her: "Well if you are, why don't you have colors so you can attract us and we can get the nectar we're supposed to use to pollinate?"

The Flowers, one and all, looked at each other quizzically. "What," bellowed Tiger Lily, "is this thing 'color' you keep referring to?"

Honeybee almost fell over. She couldn't believe her ears."You mean you don't know?"

"Know? What is there to know!?" Cried Lavender, who was very excitable indeed.

"Color," Butterfly broke in, "is what Rainbow over there is made of." She nodded toward the edge of the horizon where Rainbow shimmered blissfully.

Hummingbird, who lacked tactfulness, told them flat out: "Yo! Y'all some dummies! You suppose to have color. Everthang suppose to have it. Specially y'all. When y'all vibed in at the Beginning, that was when you was suppose to take the colors y'all was assigned by Big Momma--I mean, Mama Nature. Like you, Miss Lavender, you suppose to be purple. And Brotha Bill, your petals suppose to be sportin some scarlet or rose. That way--"

Sweet William, fussing with his suit and tie, as he did every morning, bristled at Hummingbird. "Miss Thing, please take note. My name is not  Bill. It's William... Sweet Wlliam. And I'll thank you to call me by my proper nom de plume."

"William," said Impatients, "stop throwing French phrases around. It's irritating, especially when you don't know what you're saying. But let's get back to what Hummingbird--"

"Call me Rufus. I'm Rufus Hummingbird, delighted to meet cha." He inclined his head politely and dipped his wings at her.

"Yes," said Impatients. "Delighted. But what were you telling us earlier about these... what did you call them?"

"Colors," said Hummingbird.

"You say we should have gotten assigned colors at the Beginning when we vibrated in?"Asked Impatients.

"And if we had, we'd look like Rainbow, over there." Said Tiger Lily.

"Not exactly like Rainbow," Butterfly put in. "She has many colors, but you should have gotten one color of your own.That's the way Mother Nature planned it, I'm sure. In order for you to fulfill your purpose. And for us to fulfill ours."

"Yes," said Honeybee, "you have your purpose and I, that is, we have ours. And we need each other to carry them out."

"So, what happened to you," asked Hummingbird, "when you vibrated into being?"  

"I think the important question is where do we get this color you say we should have?" Cried Lavender, excited by her own question.

"As you say," Hummingbird agreed.

"Well," demanded Tiger Lily, "where can we get it?"

Butterfly said: "Why from Mother Nature, of course."

"And where, might I ask, is she?" growled Tiger Lily.

Sweet William said: "I heard that you can find her over the Mountain in The Cave of Sun and Moon."

"Heard from who?" Hummingbird challenged, his wings beating extra hard and fast.

"Why, from Gravpevine, of course," William said, tossing his dainty head saucily.

They all looked over at Crossroads. Grapevine hung on his sign, twined round and round his arms. It was a good place for her to hear every kind of tale from traveling passersby, going hither and thither.

"Well, do you believe her?" Asked Butterfly.

"She knows her business. Never wrong yet," said Sweet William.

"Hmm," Butterfly said. "I'm thinking we might have an answer to our problems."

"Well, I want to hear it because I really can't go back to the hive telling a wild story like this." Honeybee said, bzzing round and round.

"What you got in mind, lady?" Hummingbird asked Butterfly.

"My name is Bessie Mae Butterfly, Rufus."

Not one to be left out, Honeybee said: "And mine is Heather Honeybee."

Sweet William said with a touch of sarcasm: "Now that we have all that important stuff settled, let's get back to Rufus' question. What do you have in mind, Bessie Mae?"

"We'll all go find Mother Nature and ask her to give Flowers their colors," said Bessie Mae Butterfly triumphantly. "It's the only way."

Next- Scene 3

Original Myths-How Flowers Got Their Colors, Scene 1

Copyright 2011-All Rights Reserved


1. Honeybee, Hummingbird, and Butterfly

One morning, shortly after the beginning of things, a spring shower drenched Meadow, after which Rainbow, lustrous with colors, appeared in the sky.

photo credit: http://www.freenaturepictures.com/



At the north end of Meadow, Honeybee looked out of the beehive and said: "What a perfect day for my first time to collect Flower nectar."



Honeybee had spent her childhood inside the colony, learning the ropes. Now she was 21 days old--an adult and ready for her first foraging flights. Today, she was flying to the center of Meadow where, it was rumored you ought to be able to get a really big nectar load from the combine of Flowers there.

Before she left, she was told by the Nectar Gathering Supervisor that finding and gathering nectar from Flowers was just a matter of color cues. That is, a Flower's color would always guide her straight to the nectar pouch. Furthermore, the Supervisor said: "You are expressly instructed to look for blue and violet Flowers because we bees are especially attracted to these hues."

Honeybee was the type who could be relied upon to follow instructions. Sometimes, she could be a little anal about it. Most of the time, however, this trait of hers served her well. When Honeybee flew away from the hive, heading for the center of Meadow, she felt good about having been carefully instructed and she thought she was fully prepared to do her job.

When Honeybee got to the meadow, she noticed Hummingbird beating his wings at light speed as he flew back and forth, inspecting someting pale and ghostly growing amid the green blades of grass.Close by, Butterfly was doing the same, darting to and fro from one gray thing to another.



As Honeybee drew closer, she looked down at the pallid cluster of sickly looking things languishing in the middle of Meadow. She could not tell what they were, not could she see Flowers with colors anywhere.

Round and round, she flew for several minutes, looking for colors to cue her. But she found none. She was confused, so she bzzed over to Hummingbird and asked: "Is this the centerof Meadow? I was told I could find Flowers here, but I don't see any colors like blue and violet to guide me to them."

Hummingbird was just as perplexed as Honeybee. "This the right place, babycakes. Matter a fact, I been lookin m'self for orange or red Flowers to turn me on to the mother load. Been lookin for an hour and I cain't find nuthin," he admitted. "Les ask Butterfly. Them butterflies pretty good at figurin things out."

They zoomed over to Butterfly who had paused and was staring at the gray things below her. "Pardon us,"said Honey bee, "do you know where Meadow's Flowers are? I was told to look for the colors at the center of Meadow, but I can't see any colors at all. There's nothing down there except for the green grass.
So I don't know where to look."

"Same here," said Hummingbird. "It's a problem cause I gotta take in a load  a necta so's I can pay the rent, know what I mean?"

"Well, I think I've figured it out," replied Butterfly, stroking her chin. "Those drab, colorless things sticking up between the blades of grass are Flowers. At least, I believe they are."

"Say whaat?!" Hummingbird was so astonished at the very idea that he stopped beating his wings for several seconds.

Honeybee stopped bzzing, and just hung in the air speechless. She couldn't comprehend the idea. It went against everything she had been taught about life and how the world functioned. When she recovered herself, she proclaimed, "Whoever heard of Flowers without colors!"

Butterfly, who was something of a detective, had a very logical mind and she replied: "Whoever is right! But we are at the center of Meadow where Flowers are supposed to be, and, as you said, Honey bee, there's nothing down there except green grass and some pallid looking things that could possibly be Flowers. As a famous detective once said, 'Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of butterfly--or a honeybee--can invent!'"

Next: The Flowers, Scene 2

Original Myths - How Flowers Got Their Colors, Prologue

Copyright 2011-All rights Reserved

1. Prologue


At the beginning, all things came to be in this dimension by vibrating themselves into being from the engergy of All-Spirits. Each thing, as it came into this dimension was to bring its own particular color with it.

And so, the shining Sky children--Sun, Moon, Rainbow, and Stars, came to be by rippling and shimmering themselves into the heavens.

Then came the Four Sacred Elements: Earth, the Pillar, manifested itself by whirling and spinning faster than the eye can see, while Fire, the Resplendent One, flickered and crackled; Water, the elixir, surged and gushed; and Wind, the Sage, wafted and danced itself into existence.

One by one, other things vibrated themselves into existence, like Mountain, who came to be by quaking and thrusting itself up so that it stood tall and mighty against the sky, and like Valley, who dipped down so that it lay snugly beside Mountain. Plains and Meadow and Trees and Grass blazoned forth by rolling and zigzagging into the spaces where Mountain and Valley could not fit.

Then Flowers wiggled and waggled themselves into being so that they peeked out between blades of Grass sprouting on Meadow. But, alas! Something had happened to them as they vibrated!

This is the story of what (happened). And who (was brave enough to find out). And how (everything was put to right).

Next Time: Part 2- "Honeybee, Hummingbird, and Butterfly"

Woman Series: Women Who Run with the Wolves-Part I

Copyright 2009- All Rights Reserved

I’ve always loved fairy tales, myths—stories. My mother and father told and read me stories when I was a child. When I learned to read, stories—fairy tales, comic books, movies—were my first love. Although some cultures, those of Latin America, of middle Europe, of Africa, still pass stories along, American culture tends to think of stories as only the stuff of childhood and that these things should be left behind us after we come of age. That is a mistake, I believe.—an attitude that misses the point of stories.

What is it about stories that I love…that people love? Why do they transfix us so? I believe the answer lies in this: Stories are a vessel, a construct, a vehicle that we have deliberately created to transport, through time and space for ourselves and each other, precious and essential information for living—ideas, knowings, wisdom, consciousness, learning, hope, touch and connection, nourishment and warmth, support and encouragement to keep going.

They were meant to give us heart as we pick our way over the paths of life. If we tell them to each other as adults and we listen, they reveal the markers of life’s journeys: growing up, adulthood, growing old, birth and rebirth, trials and ordeals, dangers and safe harbors, loss and endurance, sacrifice and hope, transformation and light.

This is certainly true of the book of stories I have just finished reading called Women Who Run with the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. I recommend its hope to the defeated, the cynical, the pessimist. I recommend its wisdom to the curious, the sophisticate, the intellectual. I recommend its love and warmth to the isolated, the fearful, the lonely and disconnected. It is a wonderful book: Comforting. Supportive. Encouraging. Challenging.

Using multicultural myths, fairy tales, folk tales, and stories, Dr. Estes’ book helps women reconnect with our buried healthy, instinctual selves and inner lives. The stories that Estes has collected and retells in her book are fascinating; the explanations of what the stories mean are intriguing. They whisper the secrets of a woman’s core being, her spirit, her soul…how to discover, find, reclaim my true feminine nature, how to heal those precious gifts of feminine instinct, knowing, wisdom (“wildness”) that has been mislaid, buried, waylaid, stolen, denied. Her stories console me, reassure me, teach me to rely on and trust my instincts. They gently release me from what has bound me: social convention, cultural roles, childhood wounds, family history, adult injuries, shame, guilt, secrets, betrayals, fears, traps, learned coping behaviors that have turned into strangling vines.

End Part I

Storyteller II: The Journey, A Story of Humankind

Copyright 2008- All Rights Reserved

Most stories we love are essentially those that tell us about someone else’s journey. Human beings love stories that tell about struggles, challenges, dangers on the road of life. We love to go on the adventure to witness the battles, the hardships, the ordeals that somebody fights through to get that prize (an object, a fortune, a person, freedom, knowledge, maturity, love etc.), the“treasure” at the end that’s worth all the hell endured. We love these stories because we want to know what the story’s main character did to make it through. We’re curious about how somebody climbed over the hurdles, vanquished the monsters, and outsmarted the villains--how that somebody ended up with the “treasure” sought after and hard won. It’s an age-old story line. There are many, many variations on this theme.

When I teach this age-old, universal theme in a literature class, I tell my college students that it shows itself in cultures worldwide. They may not be interested, but I find it to be fascinating that we, no matter who we are, tell this story again and again to ourselves, and that we’ve told it for ages. In literature, we call this theme The Quest or The Journey. Journey stories portray, in a straightforward or symbolic way, the very basic human experiences that give us the following message over and over again: Life is a journey of various stages, each having its own problems to be overcome, but each with its own potential rewards.

The Quest is a story… about adventure, about self-discovery, about possibilities and transformation. It’s a story that tells us to have faith and hold on… that tells us it really is possible to triumph over the things inside us that would cripple or restrict us…that it really is possible to triumph over forces outside of ourselves that would stop us cold. Just have faith and hold on. Because it’s not the treasure at the end, it’s the treasure you get for going. It’s the treasure you get from facing what happens along the way: when you struggle, wrestle with the problem that seems so big and bad that you think it’s gonna eat your ass up; it’s the treasure you get when the questions in your head make you unsure of yourself and the choices you’re making. Do I really want to do this? You say to yourself when things get hairy. Isn’t there an easier, softer way? You start to wonder when those ordeals show up to kick your ass. The thing is: It’s not the destination but the journey that matters. And it will change you. Because The Journey tests you. Transforms you. Defines who you are because of the choices you make as you travel your road. The Journey, then, becomes the real treasure. It’s the means by which you’ve been changed. And, to me, that’s what counts: change, growth, taking your life up to another, a new level.

One of my favorite stories about The Journey is a movie trilogy, Lord of the Rings. In the first installment, The Fellowship of the Ring, the main character, Frodo undertakes a journey to return the evil ring of power to the place of its origin in order to destroy it. Frodo volunteers to go. He has an inkling that The Journey will be hard, but I don’t think he realizes, from the outset, how difficult—how frightening and full of challenges it will turn out to be. In legend and in real life, Journeys always are, but that’s the point of The Journey--to go through it and learn from it, to be transformed by it, and to bring back “the treasure” which will benefit others in some way. Traditionally, in The Quest, the Journeyer needs these three qualities above all because The Journey takes you on a treacherous, long, and really hard road of trials: persistence, courage, and insight. And I can see that you would need these things, yet there’s another thing I think you need. The Journeyer has to be willing to go. Sometimes willingness, I think, is even more essential than courage on life’s Journey. If you aren’t willing, you won’t answer when life calls you to put your foot on the road. Willingness is the better part of persistence, pushing you forward so you’ll follow through, instead of giving up when those hurdles, those obstacles, tests, and ordeals show up. Don’t get me wrong. The Journey does require courage. (Courage, not just bravery; being brave isn’t quite enough. It’s courage that sends you into the lion’s den when you’re scared to death.) And you need insight, as well, to figure out things and people that you come across along the way.

Frodo is willing and does answer the call. Then, as things get really hard, because The Journey is always a hard thing to do, Frodo doesn’t want to keep going after he loses Gandoff, his mentor and guide. At that point, the Elf queen tells Frodo—who is now questioning his purpose, confused about whether to continue, and grieving the loss of Gandoff—that because the world depends on him to do this task, which is his and his alone, it won’t get done if he doesn’t complete it. That he is the Ring Bearer, but he must be willing to go. To do it. No one else can.

Now, that’s a scary thing to tell somebody…that the world is depending on you to do something that nobody else in the world can do because this task is yours alone. Wow. You better find some willingness, some courage, some persistence behind that heavy message. And you better find it fast. That is, if you’re going. Somehow though, most of us human beings look inside and find the qualities we need to take our journey. That’s a good thing because nobody else can be us, can travel our road, can complete our individual tasks. The story of The Journey encourages us to go ahead, to have faith that we can do it—whatever it is. To hang in there and do whatever it is we’re supposed to do. Because nobody else can.

I am always inspired by this universal theme called The Journey. It was Joseph Campbell, the scholar, who, some years ago, originally discovered the worldwide presence of this thematic motif in his studies of cultural myths; Campbell defined The Journey’s purpose in human society, breaking it down into stages with identifiable characters who play essential roles. I never tire of rediscovering the power of this story and I never tire of sharing my understanding of it. I invite you to look at the story of humankind through a universal lens called The Journey. It is outlined for you below.

The Journey (The Quest)
Purpose:
To answer the challenge, complete The Quest, to restore the ordinary world’s balance.
To meet difficult tests, ordeals which are part of life; to learn, to grow from them, and, ultimately, change because of these experiences, then bring back the gift or “treasure” earned and share the “treasure” with others.
A story of a heroine/hero who must separate from the ordinary, familiar world to travel on a difficult journey that promises to transform her/his life.

People on The Journey:

The Journeyer (heroine/hero) – person who needs to learn something and who will undertake hardships and sacrifice to answer the challenge of The Journey and complete it.

The Herald – something or someone appears announcing/implying the coming of significant change and issuing a challenge, problem, quest, or adventure.

Mentor/ Guide - Mentor is a wise person (or animal in fables) who provides guidance and knowledge to the Journeyer, usually gives “magical” or special gifts or advice for The Journey ahead.

Helpers, Allies – Help the Journeyer learn the rules of this “new” world.

The Other/Alter Ego – Mirrors the Journeyer in some way by representing/symbolizing our darkest desires or rejected qualities about self, or our untapped resources/abilities, or the “best” in self. This Other can be “good” or “bad.” The Other mirrors the Journeyer and meeting this person is crucial to the Journeyer who must decide to either recognize and acknowledge, to claim or not claim this part of self. If the Journeyer does not claim it, his/her growth, change/transformation cannot take place. And the quest fails.

Stages of The Journey:

Home- the known, familiar, safe haven of the everyday world of the Journeyer before the “story” begins.

The Call – A herald presents the Journeyer is presented with problem, challenge, quest, adventure to undertake to earn a reward/ “treasure.” (Journeyer may not know what the “treasure” is or that a “treasure” can be gotten.) The call can be accepted or refused. (Refusal of The Call - If Journeyer refuses call, the reason is usually fear. The call then comes again later.)

Meeting the Mentor –Journeyer meets a mentor/teacher/guide to get training & advice, to learn new skills for The Journey, to gain confidence in abilities to undertake The Journey.

The Threshold (Crossing) – The Journeyer crosses the gateway that separates the ordinary world from the special, “different” and, “new” world. This crossing tests & questions the Journeyer’s commitment The Journey and whether she/he can succeed.

Tests/Road of Trials – This stage challenges the skills, powers, abilities of the Journeyer who must undergo a series of tests. These serve as preparation for the greater ordeal yet to come. Stakes are heightened by the Journeyer confronting challenges, tests and enemies, by setbacks, hardships endured and dangers encountered by these tests. Because of setbacks, Journeyer may need to reorganize strategy or rekindle morale with help of allies and helpers.

Final Ordeal – Central trial/ life/death crisis; The Journey teeters on the brink of failure. The Journeyer faces her/his biggest fear, confronts the most difficult challenge and experiences symbolic “death.” Only through the "dying" of her/his old self can the Journeyer be reborn. “Rebirth” or change/transformation grants The Journeyer greater insight, wisdom, “power” to see the Journey to the end.

Reward/Treasure -The Journeyer has overcome her/his biggest fear, confronted the most difficult challenge, survived death, now earns reward. Reward is the “treasure” earned/sought. Could be an object, or knowledge, “gift,” a blessing, or love that will now be put to use in the everyday world the Journeyer will return to. Often it will have a restorative or healing function but it also serves to define the hero’s role in her/his society.

Transformation- Journeyer is changed by experiences of The Journey and returns to ordinary world with the “power” (knowledge, gift, wisdom, skills, etc.) to be a boon to others.

Original Myths I- Clouds

Copyright 2007-All Rights Reserved

Clouds- An Original Myth

1. No Rain



Long ago—before the White Man came to North America—before we told the stories of The People around campfires—before we made our way down from the snow-capped mountains and green forests to make our home here on the plains in the Shining Sun Place—long, long ago—before remembering time, a ragtag band of disgruntled and unhappy animals, birds, insects, and fish gathered at the Mohave Desert in council to talk of their desperate situation.

It was very hot. Hotter than it had ever been to everyone’s recollection. The sun beat down relentlessly, burning everyone’s skin, fur, scales, and feathers. It felt like an furnace; waves of incandescent heat rose in the air.

“This,” Turtle said, “will not do. It’s too hot….”

“And dry!” interrupted Spider who was attempting to weave a web that kept breaking for lack of moisture.

“It’s dusty! I need water!” moaned Walrus, who liked sand, but needed surf as well.

“Where is the water? We need water!” shouted Frog, hopping about in a fury.

“We have no water because there is no rain,” groaned Panda. As he shook his big, white furry head, he blinked sad-looking eyes encircled with black fur. Panda was worried because he lives in the rain forest. But there was no forest because there was no rain.

“Without rain, no trees will grow and sprout branches for me to land on when I’m tired of flying,” said Robin with a fair amount of alarm.

“Without water, there will be no flowers to pollinate,” exclaimed Butterfly. “What is the Red Goddess thinking? I cannot be expected to do miracles. That is her department!” She was a bit of a diva—very fussy and pompous.

“Oh, my! Without rain, no lakes will form for me to bathe in,” squeaked Hippopotamus in a frightened voice. She needed water for her health and to relieve her from the heat.

“This is a disaster! Without rain, there won’t be rivers and oceans for me to swim in,” cried Fish, who had panicked because she had to use her fins to walk around on and they were pretty bruised and swollen since fins are not made for walking.

“But why isn’t there any rain?” roared Lion, “I demand to know right now!”

Everyone fell quiet, some thinking about the question, but most just quaking with fear at Lion’s roaring. No one wanted to cross Lion. If he were in a snit, he would just as soon eat you as not. And nobody wanted to be eaten just because Lion was in a bad mood. Everyone stayed quiet while the sun shined like a gold coin in a sky of pure, unadulterated blue. No clouds floated across this bluest of blue skies, only the sun was there, a ball of fire endlessly scorching the earth.

Monkey kept staring up at the blue sky, shading his eyes with his paws. Finally, he broke the silence. “There’s no rain because there are no clouds,” announced Monkey with a flourish. Monkey was proud of his ability to reason things out and he liked to show off his intellectual skills to his peers so they would know that he was far from being an idiot even though some of them assumed he was.

“You’re right, of course,” agreed Mistress Falcon, one of the wisest of the council. “Raindrops form in clouds and there aren’t any for that to happen.”

A general murmuring went round the group. This was the fault of the Red Goddess. She had created the land. It was too hot and she should be the one to change it. But the Red Goddess was quite proud of her handiwork. And her temper was legendary. Nobody wanted to offend her.

“Who will tell the Red Goddess?” asked Falcon.

“You, Mistress Falcon,” said Turtle.

The crowd agreed. Lion took the floor. “You must go and speak to Red Earth Woman, the Red Goddess, of this immediately.”

“You must do it delicately, without offending her,” offered Turtle, ever the diplomat.

Butterfly was not to be outdone by Turtle or by Lion ordering folks around. She didn’t care if Lion was claiming to be the king of the jungle. Her pollinating job was more important. Everybody knew that. Besides that, there was no jungle. At least not yet. Of course, there weren’t any flowers to pollinate yet either, but Butterfly chose to ignore that. “The Red Goddess is at her sister’s sky lodge. You must fly there right away,” insisted Butterfly.

“I will be the one to speak for us,” Falcon said, “if everyone agrees that I should.”

When the council affirmed Falcon as their choice with shouts and cries, she flapped her wings and took off, gliding up, up, up on the air currents, intent on carrying out the council's urgent mission.




2. Two Goddesses




Sacred Sky and Red Earth Woman were sister goddesses. Each sister looked different but both were regal: Red Earth, striking in her flame-colored buckskin threaded with gold, her black hair woven into elaborate braids; Sky, the ebony-skinned Blue Goddess with soft, corkscrew, graying curls, was magnificent in blue buckskin threaded with silver. Both goddesses carried out certain important duties.


Sky tended Sun’s eternal fire all day, throwing cedar onto the logs from her buffalo pouch, fanning the fire with a huge fan of eagle tail feathers. Sometimes, when Sun became tired and out of sorts from endlessly traveling east to west every day, Sacred Sky would entertain him by beating the sacred ceremonial drum and singing Sun’s favorite songs.


Her younger sister, the copper-skinned Red Earth Woman, had an equally important but, perhaps, more creative job. As the earth goddess, it was she who created earth’s magnificent landscapes. With her fingertips, she’d stirred the magma beneath earth’s mantle to bring forth temperamental, hot-spirited volcanoes in the Ring of Fire, like Lassen Peak and Mt. St. Helen’s. With her red shield, she’d uplifted the majestic La Sal Mountains and its sister peaks, the Colorado Rockies. Later, the goddess walked around, stomping her feet here and there, crushing the red earth into the Coral Pink, the Rainbow, and The Great Sand Dunes. In some places, because it pleased her to do so, she’d used the arrowhead to sculpt and chisel the red rock land, on various continents, into wondrous-looking rock formations—mountains, buttes, arches, cylinders, hoodoos, and pinnacles—that pointed at the sky.


The Red Goddess was quite proud of her work and she liked to brag about it, from time to time, to her sister when she went to visit Sky. Today, as the two sisters sat chatting in the lodge of Sacred Sky, they were smoking the sacred pipe of universal peace, harmony, and balance; smoke rings escaped from the top of the tipi as they visited with each other.


Mistress Falcon, now on her urgent mission, flew higher and higher into the sky. She looked down at the council, but could hardly see them as she went up and up. Soon they disappeared, along with the red earth. Falcon had never seen the lodge of Sacred Sky, but she’d heard of it from her sisters, the eagles and hawks; she knew it stood in a high and remote part of the sky where only the mighty birds whose wings could carry them higher than high might find it.


Falcon was a bit worried about her mission. She had to be very careful about how she would present the problem of no rain, and the need for clouds to Red Earth Woman. Falcon would have to present herself and the council as her subjects who needed the wisdom and power of the mighty Red Goddess. Falcon could not afford to let slip a hint of slander of against the Goddess’ handiwork. If she did, all would be lost.


Falcon remembered the famous story of what had happened because of the goddess’ anger at being defamed. Once, at a banquet for the gods and goddesses, Moon, the Silver Goddess, had pulled aside one of the astral goddesses that drifted in Moon's wake to say, in a loud whisper: “My dear, those Ring of Fire volcanoes created by Red Earth Woman are verrry dangerous and sooo unnecessary. Their fiery creation represents the kind of monumental vanity that only lesser goddesses need to indulge in, don’t you agree?”


The Red Goddess had been infuriated by the comment. To keep her from hurling herself at Moon in a fit of rage, Sun had to step in and calm the situation. Furious, the Red Goddess stomped out of the banquet. Overwhelmed by anger at Moon, Red Earth Woman had slammed her fist into the red earth of the North American continent, gouging out a gorge so huge, so deep, so wide that it was known by all as the legendary Grand Canyon.


Yes, Mistress Falcon would be very careful with her words in speaking to the Goddess. Flapping her wings, Falcon went further and further up into the blue, looking for the lodge of Sacred Sky. Finally, her sharp eyes spotted a wondrous-looking tipi made of white buffalo hides, sewn with threads of silver, and decorated with quillwork, blue-green turquoise, and white abalone shells. Smoke rings floated from the top of it. That magnificent lodge, Falcon concluded, could only belong to the Blue Goddess. Following the trail of smoke rings, she flew directly toward it.





3. An Urgent Mission



Inside the tipi, Sacred Sky was smoking the sacred pipe while Red Goddess fanned the fire’s embers. Just as they finished, they heard wings flapping outside the lodge.


“If you please, Red Goddess,” said Falcon a bit nervously, “I have come on an urgent mission. Please, a moment of your time.”


The Red Goddess stepped out of the tipi and extended her arm; Falcon landed on the goddess’ arm gracefully, dipping her white feathered head in supplication. Falcon folded her beautiful brown-tipped wings and began her petition. “My Goddess, it is without question that your creations on earth are magnificent to behold. Every creature is awestruck by your wondrous inventions. We speak of them every day. What imagination! What talent!”


The Red Goddesss smiled broadly, enjoying the flattery she felt she so richly deserved. Her subjects appreciated her but some of her peers were woefully short of compliments when it came to praising what she had done for earth’s beauty.


Falcon continued. “There is one thing, however. Your subjects beg you to consider adorning the earth with luscious flowers of every hue and green plants that would grow into trees with branches for birds to nest and rest in. And if, my goddess, you could create water in streams, lakes, rivers, and oceans—”


Falcon broke off her litany because could see that, as she spoke, Red Earth Woman had begun to smolder. Her black hair had turned a deep auburn shade, like embers in a fire. Her copper skin had become as red as a cardinal’s feathers. And her eyes had turned into deep pits of golden flame. “Are you criticizing my work, Mistress Falcon?” The goddess asked in a dangerous tone of voice. “Do you dare to tell me how to create, what to include, and why I should alter a caliber of artistic work that has no equal in the universe?”


Aware that she had stumbled onto shaky ground so to speak, Falcon back pedaled to clean up any statements that had offended Red Earth Woman. “Of course not, my goddess. Nothing could be further from my mind. Your work is beauty beyond compare. I only meant that Moon and the other goddesses would be green with envy if you created some brilliant additions with water.”


Falcon peered at the goddess to see if her diplomacy was working. It was. Red Earth Woman had boiled down to a simmer. And she seemed to be listening to Falcon’s words. Falcon said: “The goddess, Moon, would be quite outdone if you created a restless, surging ocean. Certainly, it would be sweet revenge if you made sure Moon would not be able to resist the ocean’s tide…that she would be attracted to it and it to her, like lovers drawn by each other but unable to fulfill their longings.” Falcon glanced at the goddess. Her interest had perked up considerably.


Thinking it over, Red Earth said, “Yes, I can see your point, but how could I keep replenishing the water in the oceans?”


Falcon whispered one word into the goddess’ ear. “Rain.” “Rain? But where do I get this…this thing you call rain?” She asked, a frown creasing her brow. “You must create it,” Falcon prompted. Still puzzled, but not wanting to show it, the goddess murmured, “Ah, yes, but how do I do that?”


“Clouds,” Falcon said. “You’ll need to create clouds that make rain.”


Red Goddess smiled brightly, the red aura around her head pulsating with excitement. “Of course. So simple. I will use my creative powers once more to design these clouds.” She quickly stuck her head inside the tipi and told her sister, “I must get back to work. I have to create clouds so I can get rain for my earth.” Before Sky could reply, Red Earth Woman was gone in a wink.


Back on earth, Red Earth Woman contemplated the desert landscape of black, red, yellow, and pink sand dunes rising up around her. The council members gathered at a respectful distance. The goddess didn’t mind; she liked to show off her talents before a crowd. Falcon swooped down and landed on her shoulder.


Red Earth Woman had begun to rely on Falcon’s advice although she would never admit it. “Now, where shall I put these clouds, Mistress Falcon, in the middle of The Rockies, at the bottom of The Grand Canyon, or ---?”


“In the sky, my goddess. They should be above the earth, not on it.”


Red Earth Woman frowned. “Are you sure? The sky is really my sister’s specialty, but… all right, I’ll begin right away.” Tapping her index finger on her lips, she mused, “I think I’ll use sand from the dunes. There’s more than enough here to make clouds for the sky.”


And so saying, she pursed her lips and blew. The goddess’ breath lifted up a veil of sand that rose up into the sky. Her breath became blowing wind gales and the sand twisted and turned, rose higher, and got thicker, blocking out all sunlight. The council members standing at a distance were blown about. Lion was almost buried by the whirling sand; Panda and Hippopotamus were tossed about like leaves—that is, if there had been trees with leaves to toss about. Soon, a ferocious sandstorm swept over the land, but it did not stay up in the sky to become clouds, Red Earth Woman noted.


After thirty minutes or so, the goddess stopped the storm, having surmised that her plan was not working. Though she said nothing, Falcon observed that she did not look pleased. She obviously was not used to failure. “Perhaps I took the wrong approach; this time,” she announced, “I will use the earth’s minerals to make clouds.” So saying, she strode off to the La Sal Mountains and used her red shield to dig deep into the earth’s crust where she brought forth red sandstone encrusted with turquoise and pyrite, shiny chunks of quartz, and clusters of sparkling diamonds.


She scooped them up and tossed them into the sky, expecting that they would stay there. Of course, they did not, for they were too heavy. As fast as she threw them up, they all dropped back to earth, thudding down on the heads of the council members who tried their best to scramble out of the way. Turtle, the slowest of the group, was struck several times before he could take cover.


This plan was not succeeding either, it appeared and, finally, Red Earth Woman stopped, concluding with more than a little annoyance that the diamonds and other minerals would not stay put in the sky. “Mistress Falcon!” Red Earth Woman shouted. “This is not going well!” The goddess was out of sorts because of the two failures; obviously, her temper was getting the better of her. Having shouted her angry displeasure, she stomped away, her feet hewing out gorges and valleys as she went. At the entrance to her tipi, she turned and gave Falcon a nasty look.



4. The Quest




Falcon dropped her head, taking the blame and brunt of the goddess’ temper. After the goddess disappeared inside the tipi, Falcon considered the situation. She could not give up. Her mission was too important. The goddess had to continue her quest. But how to get her to do that? Falcon thought about what she knew of Red Earth Woman. The goddess was the most brilliant and creative of all the goddesses. Falcon thought of the ferociously awesome volcanoes in the Ring of Fire that Red Earth Woman had created, the shining beauty of the La Sal Mountains, the curiously compelling hoodoos, arches, and pinnacles that dotted the landscape of Red Rock Country. It was said that earth was a most wondrous place because of her sense of originality, symmetry, composition, and convergence.


Yes, Falcon thought, Red Earth Woman was a resplendent goddess with awesome powers. Proud of what she had created… and, some might say, vain. Quite susceptible, if rumor was to be believed, to adulation. If one could believe goddesses had weaknesses, one might surmise that The Red Goddess’ weakness was to be found in flattery. It might be the key, Falcon concluded, to getting the goddess to come back and try again.


Falcon flew near the tipi’s entrance, careful not to invade the goddess’ privacy. Then she spoke, “My goddess, I beg you to listen to me. Your designs are so splendid. So unique. No one can match your sense of originality, beauty, harmony.” Falcon paused, but the goddess did not stir, nor did she say a word.


Still pouting, Falcon thought. She hovered closer, studying Red Earth Woman’s tipi. It was made of soft brown deer hides, sewn together with copper threads; the hides were studded with chunks of amber, rubies, and gold. White-tipped eagle feathers strung with cascading diamonds hung down the sides of the tipi. Falcon decided to take another approach. “My goddess, no one can come close to achieving what you can by design. Just look at your lodge. It is far more beautiful than that of your sister. And what you’ve done with our earth’s landscape! Splendid! Such genius! Why, it’s so obvious that your talent and creativity are boundless. For the sake of your subjects, please, put your ingenuity to work and bestow this new gift to the creatures of earth.”


As she stepped outside her tipi, the goddess was glowing with pleasure at Falcon’s words. “Your words are too kind, Mistress Falcon. I will do it. I will give the poor creatures of earth this precious gift. To achieve it, to make these clouds which will bring rain, I will use one of my volcanoes.”


So saying, she strode off to Lassen Peak to tackle the task of cloud-making once more. Some of the council members followed; others, like Panda, Walrus, Hippo, Lion and Turtle, stayed behind, leery of the goddess’ plan to use volcanoes. After all, her other ideas had backfired on the heads of the bystanders.


With Falcon on her shoulder as she stood in the midst of black cinders, at the edge of a volcano crater, Red Earth Woman began. First, she slowly lifted her arm which caused a row of lava fountains to erupt along a fissure, creating a curtain of fire rising up from the crater in dangerous majesty; then she took her finger and punched an eruptive vent on the side of the volcanic cone. At once, molten lava, gases, large rocks, and minerals spurted up and out of the vent. While the goddess was working, Falcon noticed that the sky had turned crimson in the glow of fiery, liquid, molten rock bubbling and arching upward.


In the midst of ash, steam and smoke billowing to the sky from spewing fire fountains, Butterfly and Robin flew away as fast as their wings would carry them, fearful of being burned to death. The goddess watched the volcanic explosions expectantly. Out of all the things being thrown up into the sky, she was sure that one of them—rock, lava, steam, or ash—would stay up to become clouds. But alas, none did.


By this time, Falcon could see the whole enterprise was hopeless. Red Earth Woman’s concept of clouds was all wrong. Of course, she could not say that to the goddess. What to do? Falcon wondered, watching the steamy clouds rise.


Meanwhile, Red Earth Woman was thoroughly frustrated and angry. She had never, ever failed at anything. The thought of failure made her livid. It was inappropriate for a goddess to fail. Unheard of. Whoever heard of a goddess failing? She looked around for something or someone to blame. Her eyes glowed dangerously as she remembered that this had been Falcon’s idea. She shook Falcon from her shoulder. “What is the meaning of this, Mistress Falcon?” Her eyes were fiery sparks. “Nothing I do works to make clouds. I am the earth’s creator! How can it be that I am not succeeding? Is this a trick you have set to embarrass me?”


Falcon knew that she was in trouble with the goddess, but watching the clouds of steam had given her the germ of an idea. With luck, it would do. Now she had to convince the goddess.



5. Rain at Last


“How clever of you, my goddess!” said Mistress Falcon. “What a master stroke! To experiment with the steam clouds from the volcano. You have seen that these steam clouds are quite like the clouds of smoke that float from the top of Sacred Sky’s lodge.” Falcon clapped her hands. “So very ingenious, my clever goddess!”

“Of course,” the goddess assented though she hadn’t the faintest idea what Falcon was getting at.

Falcon knew the goddess didn’t have a clue and so she prompted the goddess by saying: “I am guessing that your plan somehow involves smoking the sacred pipe and the clouds of smoke that will come from it. So you must leave for your sister’s lodge, right away. Am I correct?”

“You are, but you must come with me, Mistress Falcon. The plan requires your presence. You will explain it to my sister, Sacred Sky.”

Consenting, Falcon bowed her head. “As you wish, my goddess.” And in the blink of an eye, they were inside Sacred Sky’s lodge where the Red Goddess had Falcon explain the problem and solution to her sister. In her explanation, Falcon was careful to give Red Earth Woman the credit for the final solution for making clouds.

“But I am not sure,” began the Blue Goddess, “that it is proper to use the sacred pipe to make clouds. What will Sun say about this?”

“How can it not be proper,” responded her sister, “when these clouds will take their place in your sky along with Sun? If you and I decide it should be done to bring balance and harmony to the earth, then this is a good thing, and, surely, Sun will not disagree.”

Blue Goddess nodded, listening, while she fanned the fire. “I have been wondering about how to give Sun a day off. He becomes very weary, having to work every day. He could rest when the sky water—what did you call it?” She looked at her sister.

“Rain, Sky,” said the Red Goddess.

“Yes, rain. When it falls, Sun will have a day off to rest,” she reasoned, “and that will be an excellent ’s good you say that clouds will make it come about?” This time Sacred Sky looked at Mistress Falcon.

Falcon only nodded, knowing it was wise to let the two goddesses do all the talking.

“Then we will do it.” Sacred Sky said, taking up the sacred pipe and an ember from the fire. “Come let’s go outside.” Once outside of the lodge, the Blue Goddess offered the pipe. “Take it, my sister.”

Red Earth Woman demurred. “No, I believe you should smoke the pipe, Sister. I have other important things to do.”

Sacred Sky nodded, put her lips to the pipe, and used the burning ember to light it. As she puffed gently, a string of smoke rings glided into the air. Meanwhile, the smoke rings change their One by one, their shapes changed—some formed small, fat balls and others elongated into thin, wispy filaments. As the began changing, the Red Goddess pursed her lips and blew at the feathery thin filaments so that little by little, they linked together and became a soft, milky quilt of clouds gliding in the azure blue sky.

Above Sacred Sky’s head, circles of smoke rings floated away to form white clouds with scalloped shapes, fluffy shapes, and plump, round shapes. The wind breath of the Red Goddess carried some of theses cloud shapes to the blue-gray La Sal Mountains where they kissed the peaks and turned into swiftly moving, dark scud clouds. Now, the sky was no longer clear blue, but had become a patchwork of white, downy fluffs and dark, gray thunderheads full of water droplets.

All at once, Red Earth Woman reached inside Sky’s lodge and pulled out another large, burning ember, which she threw far across the horizon into the dark blue, thunderhead clouds that tickled the mountaintops. As the ember fell into the thunderheads, it became a blanket of brilliant lightning that sinking into the clouds that now quilted the sky. When lightning flashed, embroidering a zigzagging line across the darkening sky, the Red Goddess reached once more, inside the lodge. She drew out the sacred ceremonial drum and struck it hard three times. The sound became thunder growling and rumbling down the peaks of the La Sal Mountain. Lightning streaked the sky. Thunder rolled loudly. The two goddesses nodded to each other, stopped what they were doing, and clapped their hands together three times.

Then, at last, water droplets formed in the clouds and fell to the earth, first, in a gentle mist, then in a steady shower, and finally the rain became a heavy downpour. Falcon gave a huge sigh of relief. She had accomplished her mission. As for Red Earth Woman, she was almost beside herself with happiness. She had done it! She had created clouds, which gave birth to rain, which showered a very parched, and dry red earth. Rain! How clever she was to have thought of it! Sacred Sky was delighted with the results. Already, she could see that the weary Sun was making its way toward her, glad of a time to rest. He would have no objection to the newcomers—clouds, rain, wind, thunder, and lightning—for they were going to provide him with a day off for the first time ever. Now, he would not have to shine and shine and shine each and every day.

When rain hit the ground, the council members, who had been worried that Mistress Falcon and the goddess might not succeed, raised a heartfelt cheer. The ragtag band of disgruntled and unhappy animals, birds, insects, and fish had cause to celebrate, for their situation in the Mohave Desert was desperate no more. Panda, Lion, and Monkey made off for South America where a lush, green rain forest would soon rise from a dusty plain. So did Spider who would have moisture now to weave her beautiful webs. Butterfly, such a fussy diva, was quite happy that, now, clouds of rain would bring forth flowers for her to pollinate. Walrus wasted no time either. He rushed off to a dry gulch in the west, which was rapidly filling with rainwater that would soon become the Pacific Ocean. Hippo and Turtle quickly followed him. Now, there would be sand as well as surf for them. With rivers, lakes, and oceans to swim in, Fish could finally use her poor bruised fins for swimming, not walking. In the sky, you could see that Mistress Falcon, who had flown back to earth, had joined Robin and Butterfly to soar, loop, and glide joyfully high above the earth. They knew that, soon, the rain would bring the trees and branches they needed for roosting and resting to their hearts’ content.

Everyone was happy. For now, up above earth, in the blue, blue sky, floated the thing that everyone needed: Clouds.

The End