The Tale of the Well
There is a well, and within in it a never ending blackness that drills deep into the core of everything and nothing.
By the well a little girl played, grew, matured. The well was one constant in her life, a place she was aware of, but never ventured too close to. Though she was always drawn to it by her curiosity.
In her childhood it was nothing but that. A curiosity. a simple thing that sat always where it was, it existed as a part of her world, but never influenced her life any which way.
She noticed that her parents were cautious of it. Her mother feared it, and her father kept a respectful distance.
As the years passed, the girl saw how people around her would come to the well. Some with weary bones that looked upon it as a long missed home. Others sought it with despair in their eyes and threw themselves into the unfathomable depths. Some were pushed, others thrown, some tripped into the well. Very occasionally, some would manage to catch themselves by the lip and pulls themselves out, or were rescued by a loved one. Or even a passing stranger.
And over the years the girl saw so many lives come and go before her that she felt her curiosity burgeoning into a dark sort of passion. She saw good and she saw evil, she saw others who saw what she saw. She felt the immensity of life and the weight of it. She saw people from all corners of the world, all journeys. Successful rich men who loved their families, poor men with broken dreams but a whole heart, broken men with broken dreams, successful women, happy women, sad women, broken women. Men and women. Sad, happy, fulfilled and in despair. She saw them all come and go, but ultimately they all disappeared into the well.
And there came a dark day when all she saw was the well. Her own triumphs in life and the beauty in it that fascinated her as a child were overshadowed by resignation and exhaustion.
The well was clearly the center of the universe, pulling all things towards it in the end. The end was inevitable, and the girl learned that it was the individual's choice as to how long they would journey before letting themselves be pulled magnetically and inevitably to the place where everything and nothing shook hands and intertwined.
The weight of possibility was what made her take each step closer to the well. The weight of what could be, what might be and all of the negative counter space inhabited by the equal negative force. The possibility of failure, of seeking never to find. The thought of a journey with no meaning.
And each day she slipped nearer to the well, not sure exactly how close she was to the lip as she refused to measure the distance. Some days she would move away, far away. She would forget the weight of possibility and anti-possibility at the sound of a genuinely kind word, at the chance to have adventures and challenge herself.
It was only when she had too much time to think did she find the distraction provided by the things that made her feel whole that she would wander back to the well.
Then she felt the danger closing in around her as she became aware of the pattern in her own wandering. The life she lived was something she considered a distraction from the inevitable. So realize this was to see no possibility any which way. All that was left was the well, and everything and nothing.
On a bright and beautiful summer afternoon, with a warm breeze tickling her shoulders and neck with her hair, the girl climbed onto the lip of the well and looked up at the sky for the last time.
And she stepped forward. And disappeared.
The equal balance of positive and negative potential left behind lingered by the well, like a lost spirit. It floated forlornly for centuries and many wandered past it. And as more potential was left behind, the positive and negative energies merged into strong opposing forces that surrounded the well. Until there came a time when they turned solid, and any who wished to pass through to the well could not.
And so the balance of the world was thrown off. Where there was nothing guarding the well before, now no one could pass. The only thing to be done was to take an equal portion of each potentiality and carry it away to spend it, only to return once both had been expended.
And so over time the balance returned to the land, and sentries were posted by the well once the potentialities had been minimized to keep the tradition alive from that day forward. No one could pass without having spent all their potential. Whether they spent it wisely or no was of no concern, but rather the importance was that it WAS spent.
Of course all were encouraged to spend their potential wisely, and told that although negative potential was inevitable, it was not an evil thing, but rather a tool for learning. Failure and mistakes were necessary to grow and to learn. And through that learning, positive potential was spent freely through wisdom and good judgment.
One day a young girl came to live near the well with her father and mother, and her eyes shone with curiosity. Something was drawing her to that place. And though the sentries would not allow her access to the well, there was an energy there that pulled her back each day.
And so, one day the girl snuck out into the night and past the dozing sentries and crept up beside the well and peered inside. From within a gust of wind rushed forward and engulfed her. She felt warm with passion and vigor as it did, and she did not cry out. For she felt a presence in the energy. Something strong and loving and sad. And she felt as though she had known it all her life.
The wind subsided as the energy folded in on her and flowed in her veins. Both positive and negative potentiality, unspent. And the girl looked at her hands and rubbed her eyes.
"Now you must live a life for two." Whispered a voice in her ear. "Where I failed, you must succeed."
And the girl looked up into the crystal clear star-spattered sky and smiled quietly as a kind breeze played around her. And she understood.
That night she danced and twirled back to her house, having made herself a crown of flowers on the way. And when she was home she climbed into bed with her sleeping parents and kissed each of them on the forehead before falling sound asleep with a smile playing across her lips.
By the well a little girl played, grew, matured. The well was one constant in her life, a place she was aware of, but never ventured too close to. Though she was always drawn to it by her curiosity.
In her childhood it was nothing but that. A curiosity. a simple thing that sat always where it was, it existed as a part of her world, but never influenced her life any which way.
She noticed that her parents were cautious of it. Her mother feared it, and her father kept a respectful distance.
As the years passed, the girl saw how people around her would come to the well. Some with weary bones that looked upon it as a long missed home. Others sought it with despair in their eyes and threw themselves into the unfathomable depths. Some were pushed, others thrown, some tripped into the well. Very occasionally, some would manage to catch themselves by the lip and pulls themselves out, or were rescued by a loved one. Or even a passing stranger.
And over the years the girl saw so many lives come and go before her that she felt her curiosity burgeoning into a dark sort of passion. She saw good and she saw evil, she saw others who saw what she saw. She felt the immensity of life and the weight of it. She saw people from all corners of the world, all journeys. Successful rich men who loved their families, poor men with broken dreams but a whole heart, broken men with broken dreams, successful women, happy women, sad women, broken women. Men and women. Sad, happy, fulfilled and in despair. She saw them all come and go, but ultimately they all disappeared into the well.
And there came a dark day when all she saw was the well. Her own triumphs in life and the beauty in it that fascinated her as a child were overshadowed by resignation and exhaustion.
The well was clearly the center of the universe, pulling all things towards it in the end. The end was inevitable, and the girl learned that it was the individual's choice as to how long they would journey before letting themselves be pulled magnetically and inevitably to the place where everything and nothing shook hands and intertwined.
The weight of possibility was what made her take each step closer to the well. The weight of what could be, what might be and all of the negative counter space inhabited by the equal negative force. The possibility of failure, of seeking never to find. The thought of a journey with no meaning.
And each day she slipped nearer to the well, not sure exactly how close she was to the lip as she refused to measure the distance. Some days she would move away, far away. She would forget the weight of possibility and anti-possibility at the sound of a genuinely kind word, at the chance to have adventures and challenge herself.
It was only when she had too much time to think did she find the distraction provided by the things that made her feel whole that she would wander back to the well.
Then she felt the danger closing in around her as she became aware of the pattern in her own wandering. The life she lived was something she considered a distraction from the inevitable. So realize this was to see no possibility any which way. All that was left was the well, and everything and nothing.
On a bright and beautiful summer afternoon, with a warm breeze tickling her shoulders and neck with her hair, the girl climbed onto the lip of the well and looked up at the sky for the last time.
And she stepped forward. And disappeared.
The equal balance of positive and negative potential left behind lingered by the well, like a lost spirit. It floated forlornly for centuries and many wandered past it. And as more potential was left behind, the positive and negative energies merged into strong opposing forces that surrounded the well. Until there came a time when they turned solid, and any who wished to pass through to the well could not.
And so the balance of the world was thrown off. Where there was nothing guarding the well before, now no one could pass. The only thing to be done was to take an equal portion of each potentiality and carry it away to spend it, only to return once both had been expended.
And so over time the balance returned to the land, and sentries were posted by the well once the potentialities had been minimized to keep the tradition alive from that day forward. No one could pass without having spent all their potential. Whether they spent it wisely or no was of no concern, but rather the importance was that it WAS spent.
Of course all were encouraged to spend their potential wisely, and told that although negative potential was inevitable, it was not an evil thing, but rather a tool for learning. Failure and mistakes were necessary to grow and to learn. And through that learning, positive potential was spent freely through wisdom and good judgment.
One day a young girl came to live near the well with her father and mother, and her eyes shone with curiosity. Something was drawing her to that place. And though the sentries would not allow her access to the well, there was an energy there that pulled her back each day.
And so, one day the girl snuck out into the night and past the dozing sentries and crept up beside the well and peered inside. From within a gust of wind rushed forward and engulfed her. She felt warm with passion and vigor as it did, and she did not cry out. For she felt a presence in the energy. Something strong and loving and sad. And she felt as though she had known it all her life.
The wind subsided as the energy folded in on her and flowed in her veins. Both positive and negative potentiality, unspent. And the girl looked at her hands and rubbed her eyes.
"Now you must live a life for two." Whispered a voice in her ear. "Where I failed, you must succeed."
And the girl looked up into the crystal clear star-spattered sky and smiled quietly as a kind breeze played around her. And she understood.
That night she danced and twirled back to her house, having made herself a crown of flowers on the way. And when she was home she climbed into bed with her sleeping parents and kissed each of them on the forehead before falling sound asleep with a smile playing across her lips.
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