“Once, long, long ago, at the beginning of time, Sky and Earth were one.” The wizened storyteller paused to look at the young ones gathered in the circle to hear the Old Tales. The crone smiled her toothless smile and nodded to herself, remembering the first time she had heard the stories told. A lifetime had passed, but the words never changed…
“Sky and Earth moved together in the Void. There they would have remained for all time, but for the Chance that lives in Chaos. From Chaos comes the night, from the boundless empty space comes the power of Nature.”
Wide-eyed, the children listened.
“From Chance came a spark that gave rise to a wind that blew between Sky and Earth, driving them apart.” The old woman’s arms rose in a graceful arc, as they had when she had danced in the Temple as a novice.
Then her hands came together, leading her body into a crouch, impossibly supple for old bones. “Curling into a sphere, Earth formed the solid matter on which we stand.”
Again the graceful arcing movement. “Spreading wide, Sky arched into the vault of the Heavens above.”
The children followed the storyteller’s dance, entranced by her magic.
“The space between they filled with their children.”
“That’s us!” whispered the children.
The storyteller held up her finger for quiet, but she smiled at the young ones. They moved closer. This was the part for which they had been waiting – the story of their own becoming.
“As their children came forth, Sky and Earth bestowed gifts on them. To Men they gave strong bodies, for digging the soil and holding their loved ones. To women they gave strong hearts, for they are the life-givers.”
“Why?” asked the young ones. “Why are Women the life-givers?”
“Why does new life come forth from the Earth?” asked the storyteller. “Why do we honour the Earth as out Mother?’
“Because Her hills are like breasts!” called a bright-eyed child.
“Because She feeds us!” called another.
“Because She was there at the beginning and will be there at the end,” said a third.
The crone nodded. “All of that is true.”
The children smiled at their own cleverness.
“Listen now, and I will tell you the true reason that women are the life-givers.”
The children were still, waiting.
“Earth and Sky might have continued to bring forth Men and Women, as many as were needed. Why did they give the life-giving power to Women?”
The children considered her question with blank faces, frowns, bitten lips. Finally the old woman spoke again.
“It happened like this. The first Man and Woman came forth into a garden between two rivers. In this place was food and water enough for them to live forever. They swam in clear pools, slept in the Sun, and supped on ripe fruits. All was well.”
“What happened?” asked a girl sitting at the edge of the circle.
“Time passed,” said the storyteller. “Earth and Sky began to grow sleepy. No more did they dance as they had when they were young. No more did they bring forth children.” Her voice conveyed the sadness of the change.
“What happened?” asked the girl again.
“A great and wise power came to the Woman in the form of a serpent.” The storyteller’s hands moved in gentle undulations, leaving tracks in the air like the curving pathways of the snakes by the river.
“Did the serpent bite her?” asked the girl.
“No! The serpent spoke to the Woman and told her the secrets of bringing forth life from within her body.”
“But why didn’t the serpent speak to the Man?’ asked a boy sitting near the storyteller.
“Because Men cannot hear serpents speak,” said the old woman, as if that explained everything.
Meet MAGO Conributor Kaalii Cargill