Updated: October 1976
[Note: this story was begun shortly after returning the Mormon Church the previous July 1975 with my six children in mind all of whom were being raised Mormon, except for my youngest, then age 9.]
(A father’s myth for his children)
"...And he shall plant in the hearts of the children the promises to the fathers..." JS 2:39
Chapter One: The Quest
Long ago
on a great red planet, there lived a prince of song and fire. The prince was very young and very bored.
“What is there for me to do?” he said to himself one day. “And why am I not happy?”
Now, for
those of us who have always admired princes and grand things and far away
places, this may seem a surprising thing to say. The prince had everything he had ever wanted
and could do anything he had ever hoped.
But now he was bored, and being bored he was unhappy.
So, he
began to dream. And in his dreams he
found new adventure and excitement and challenge. Dreaming soon became his new world. “Here I can build and learn to be who I want
to be”, he mused. “Where shall I go and who shall I be and what do I want to
learn?” He pondered on this question a
very long time, knowing now that he was free to have it answered just as he
desired.
“I want to
be a king!” he exclaimed, interrupting his dreams and boring surroundings. “A king”, he said again, this time quietly to
himself. “How do I become a king?” And with that he began to wonder. No one was near to hear him and no one was near
to answer. So he drifted off to sleep to
wander and search for his desire. He had
begun his Quest.
In his
sleep the prince began to fall into a deep, dark and swirling mist. He became
very frightened and cried out, “What is happening to me and where am I
going?” On and on he fell and spun,
faster and faster, alone and terrified. “Why should my desire bring on such a
terrible thing?” he wondered, continuing to plunge down and down, around and
around.
After a
while and with no end in sight, the prince began to hear a sound that seemed
like a very quiet chuckle! How very
strange, he thought. And as he listened more
carefully, he was surprised to find it was actually coming from himself! Nothing else was happening except falling and
spinning, spinning and falling. And so,
soon he began to laugh. On and on he
went, now laughing and spinning, falling and giggling. A foolish and absurd situation indeed, it
seemed.
Before he
had realized it the prince had lost his fear.
He began to look at his hands and was amazed to find that he could
change how fast he spun and fell just by how he held them. How interesting, he thought. So he began to experiment.
Suddenly
and without thinking, he straightened out his arms and legs and burst out of
the swirling mist into an inner calm.
But in so doing and to his dismay, he abruptly began to drop—straight
down the center of the whirlwind! “Oh,
my!” he cried again, as again he was afraid.
But soon
again, though falling straight like an arrow, the prince began to laugh and
returned to working with his hands. He
held his arms to his sides and extended his fingers ever so slightly. Immediately he felt the speed of his fall
begin to slow. Out further went his
hands. Slower went his fall, until soon
the prince had stopped falling altogether.
He had come to a suspended place right in the middle of the whirling mist!
There it
was, just within reach, still wildly spinning.
And here he was, now hanging in the center, but floating safe. He began to look around. Then up.
And way off in the distance, far away beyond his clearest vision, he saw
a tiny point of light. And as he focused
on the far off speck, he felt a tiny spark within himself—like gladness.
Gone were
his fear and his confusion and his questions.
Now fascinated by the tiny light and gladdened by the tiny spark, he
felt the spark increase to glowing and watched the light become brighter and
brighter and felt its warmth.
Then he
realized that he was rising up towards the light. As it became brighter, his face warmer, and
his heart happier, he found himself moving into a blinding, shining place. It was as if he had entered the sun, itself!
The
prince’s joy became unbounded and he thought his heart would burst. He began to shout and sing and whistle and make
all kinds of strange and unusual sounds.
It seemed a silly sight.
And then,
he heard the Voice. Quiet and gentle, yet voluminous and
grand:
“My Son”
The Great
Voice spoke, but the prince could not tell if it was in him or out of him,
around him or through him.
“To be a king you
must experience what kings experience.
Seek your own kingdom
and search your own soul. Do not fear
to find it, though
you will be tested and challenged. Take
your
Courage in your hands
and remember the tiny spark of gladness.
You will know when you need to know and will be equipped as needed. Then will you find your rightful place and
the kingdom of your heart.”
And so it
was the prince found himself on top of a mountain, singing to a great white
stag and to a tree and to a soaring eagle in the skies. He was wrapped in a vision for his future.
Chapter Two: The Push-Pull
On his way
down the mountain side, the prince wondered how his vision would take
place. This was a strange new land. He knew he must now go the great sea he had
seen sparkling far off in the distance.
He did not know why. It was just
that he felt he had to get there somehow.
And he
wondered about the meaning of the majestic Voice he had heard. Also, he wondered about what he had
seen. In the vision he had seen the
golden eagle swoop down close and cry with the sound of a mighty trumpet: “Liberty ! Liberty ! The Kingdom is here! Prepare the way for the King of kings!”
At first
the prince had thought the bird was golden, but then it seemed to change to
silver. And as it faded away, a gust of
wind came up smelling clean and sharp and sweeping small dark clouds before
it. The last glimpse of the great
shimmering bird was gone.
Meanwhile
the stag had stayed very still, watching everything. But now he suddenly started snorting, rapidly
wagging his small white tail then began bounding away in fantastic leaps,
suspending himself at the top of each one as if caught in the midst of a
beautiful dream.
The tree
had seemed to glow with an eerie soft blue light, coming from within
itself. And the ground around it became
like a pool of glass. Looking down
around its base, the prince could see that the roots of the tree went far into
the mountain depths, farther than both his eyes could see.
He wondered
about these things as he came to the bottom of the mountain. What now stretched out before him seemed like
an endless flat expanse of desert…waste….
* * *
The prince
wondered how far it was across the desert.
He knew that to reach the great sea he had seen from on top of the
mountain, he would have a long hot way to go.
Where there had been trees and birds and animals on the mountain, he
could now see nothing but dry, cracked clay.
Not even a blade of grass. And no
water.
But he
began to walk anyway. He felt somehow he
was headed in the right direction, even if he had no idea how he was going to
get there without water or food or something to ride in.
Then, as
the prince began to walk, he felt something push him—or was it pulling
him? He could not tell. It was like a giant magnet and it made him
begin to run—and then stumble! “Oh!” he
cried. “Where is it taking me?”
He stood up
and again was almost pushed-pulled over.
But he did not fight it. He let
himself be drawn in the direction of the push-pull. Then he remembered the dark swirling thing
and how he’d once worked with his hands.
So, he held his arms to his sides (as he remembered from before) and
began to extend his fingers ever so slightly.
All the time he was being pushed/pulled towards where he did not know.
As his
hands tipped a little, fingers extended together, he felt himself lift off the ground! He was flying!
And very fast he discovered that how he held his hands determined how he
flew. But! He had to be careful. By tipping his hands too much too soon, he
could go too high too fast. Soon it
became fun and the prince began flying all around. He became totally absorbed in flying and
forgot all about crossing the desert to reach the great shining sea.
And that
is just when he flipped over a long, covered wire right in the middle of the
sky! And that is also when he saw the
great stream of people far below.
*****
“So many,
many people!” the prince exclaimed.
“Where are they all going?” And
as he looked, he realized that they were all going in the very same direction
as the push-pull that had made him stumble.
They were moving inexorably in the same direction he was going towards
the far side of the desert and rolling hills.
“But why are they moving so slowly?” he wondered, realizing how much he
enjoyed flying and moving fast and feeling free to soar and be. He decided to go down closer to take a better
look.
“Oh, no!”
the prince again exclaimed. “They are
all bent over and being pulled backwards!”
It was no wonder they were moving so slowly. “Oh, please”, cried the prince to those
below. “Don’t fight the push-pull. Just stand up and turn around and let it lift
you up. It is not hard at all. Why, look how easy it is for me and how much
fun it is to fly and play.”
Not one of
the people looked up. Not one of them
seemed to hear. No one seemed to notice
the prince in the air above them. “Look
at me! LOOK at me!” the prince
shouted. Still no one looked up. No one even bothered to notice. It was all very troubling and puzzling.
“Why can’t
they hear me?” the prince wondered. And
in asking these questions he felt a great sadness and heaviness move through
his heart. “They can’t see me because I
am not where they are!” And with that a
new wave of feeling washed over him.
He felt
foolish now, being up in the air if they could not hear him. It was no longer any fun flying if he could
not share his joy with someone else. So
he decided to go back down to the ground all the way.
The prince
wanted to be with these people. He
wanted to get into their great life river.
But would they understand him?
Would he understand them? He didn't know. But he decided to try.
Chapter Three: The
Elders
“Why are
you all bent over like that?” The prince
was talking to an old man who was the first person he met after getting back
down to the ground. “And why are you
fighting the push-pull?”
“You
should learn how to speak to your elders,” replied the old man in an affronted
tone.
“Why can’t
you answer my question?” responded the prince.
“You are a
rude young man”, said the old man. “And
a show off!”
“A show
off?”
“I heard
you yelling earlier and it sounded very rude.
Very, very rude.”
“Yelling?”
“Yes,
yelling. It was all rather rude and you
should know yelling is not permitted here.”
“But I was
only trying to get your attention so you could see how easy it is to fly,”
explained the prince, explained the prince now quite bewildered.
“Young
man, you’ll only get yourself and others in trouble with your rude attitude and
in saying such dangerous things,” replied the old man. It was plain he did not want talk to the
prince any further.
“What’s so
dangerous about my question?” asked the prince.
But the old man was silent. “What’s
so dangerous about my question?” the prince asked again, this time more loudly
and with impatience. Still, the old man
remained silent. Then he closed his
eyes.
“Why,
you’re just a silly old man!” complained the prince angrily. He did not like to be ignored.
“Teach
that boy a lesson!” someone shouted from within the barely moving crowd of
crouched figures.
“But I was
only…OUCH!” The prince felt himself hit
on his right leg by a large rock. “Why
are you hurting me?” he cried.
“A good
member never asks such questions!” replied another voice.
“Yes!”
cropped up another, “Good members do not question!” Another rock hit the prince in the back. And then another. And another.
He began running.
“Get out!”
someone else cried.
The prince
began running in the direction of the push-pull. He ran just on the outside of the struggling
mass of people and could not understand why they had become so angry. But, he thought to himself, perhaps he could
find out if he could get to the front.
Maybe those in front would understand.
As he ran
on his way to the front, along side the slowly moving bent over river of
struggling people, the prince noticed a person here and there who was standing
up, instead of all bent over like everyone else. It seemed hopeful. Maybe these standing up people would
understand. He decided to approach one
who was closest to the edge.
“You aren't bent over like the others. Aren't you afraid they will be angry with you?”
I was
another old man. But this old man
laughed and said, “My boy, when you get as old as I am it doesn't matter who gets angry at you anymore.”
“When did
you decide to stand up?” asked the prince, encouraged by the old man’s
attitude.
“You ask
brave questions, my boy”. The old man was now looking kindly at the young
stranger. “Just where have you come
from?”
The prince
became excited. “I come from a big red
planet with a black swirly place and a blinding light and a great mountain with
a big tree and white stag and a golden-silver eagle that flies high in the
sky…” answered the prince eagerly and breathlessly. He was happy that the old man seemed
interested.
“My boy,
my boy”, interjected the old man. “I
don’t understand you. You are speaking
very, very strangely. And what you say
is very, very strange indeed. I do hope
you are all right and haven’t been eating the wrong things.”
“Ah!” the
young prince sighed. He had said too
much. Much too much. Why couldn't he talk to these people plainly
about where he came from and about what he could do? He sighed again and moved back outside the
struggling people river. And again he
began running towards the front.
To be continued as of 19 Oct 76.
Possible future chapters:
Witches
and webs
Fugitive
Circus Bear
Magic
Bees and the Medicine Man