Evelyn stood on the lake’s shore, startling at the loon’s keening so rare had birdsong become in the past decades. But, yet, now a hundred loons sailed above the water, legs gracefully trailing the wind, for a moment even blocking out the sun. A murmuration of starlings burst against a sky whose blue was so pure, a heavenly color gone so long, that no living human had ever seen it. Past the shore, in the lake’s water, orange and blue fins and tails shimmered, throwing crystalline light into the air. With every breath, Evelyn’s lungs filled with moist, warm oxygen-saturated air. Moose, deer, beaver, wildcat, wolverine, and wolves wandered by, aware of her, but not afraid, as if she were no more threatening than a tree or a boulder. She awoke from her dreaming to her own emptying world weeping.
She lay on the same shoreline she had seen in her dream, though now in reality barren of birds, fish, trees, and flowers, the water a shallow puddle exposing a sandy ribbon of fish bodies and dried seaweed. Her feet stood in the liminal place between land and lake that was, even then, slipping away with the wind gusts. She touched the ground that had once been underwater as if she could will the water to return. But the lake continued evaporating into the air, taken up into the sky, perhaps to fall elsewhere on the planet as a deluging flood.
A tiny dot on the water moved towards her, a boat with a single rower. She remembered all the mythical stories of those taken across the water in boats to places of paradise and death — the Fortunate Isles, Avalon, the Land of the Dead. For all the troubles of her world, she did not want to go with the rower away from her home to one of these places, though she wasn’t sure why. She remembered how, when she was a child, she would run into the water, then fall and wait for its buoyancy to uplift her. If she began to walk into the water now, she would be far from the shore by the time the rower arrived. She closed her eyes and began to walk, only opening her eyes when she again felt the water’s embrace.
She found herself not in the lake, but rather at the bottom of an ocean, perfectly able to breathe the cloudy, gray water. A few mottled fish slowly passed empty shells above a broken, white bleached coral reef. Nearby, nearly covered with barnacles, sat a woman, visible only at random moments as when you watch flashes on an ocean’s surface, sometimes a mermaid, sometimes a female human body with a fish head, sometimes a humanoid. She was in a deep sleep. As Evelyn walked closer to her, her mind became filled with the same images of abundance as in her dream. They were the woman’s dreams, invading Evelyn’s consciousness. Evelyn knew without words that the sleeper was the Ocean Mother from whom all life on Earth had originally emerged, in mourning and depleted from assaults on life both above and below.
The love Evelyn felt from and for the woman was immense, a tidal wave of warm pleasure and heart’s joy. Though she had never experienced it in her lifetime, she remembered the world she had seen in the Ocean Mother’s dream, when there was no “wilderness” because all the creation, including humans, were connected and indivisible, in wordless communication, and protecting the well being of the the Earth without question. She was passionately desirous to be at the center of her dream’s maelstrom of sound, motion, color, and relations, constantly changing and growing. “What is wrong?” Evelyn asked the woman, “How can I help?” The woman looked up at Evelyn and smiled, as if she had been waiting centuries for someone to say these words to her.
Evelyn opened her eyes again, but this time she was on the opposite shore, where the dead landed after their boat ride. But she breathed. And she saw the boat rowing back towards her from the other shore of the living, coming to transport her there. Her wish had been granted. She was bypassing the certainty and peace of paradise for the uncertain happiness of knowing she was in the very beating heart of all life on our planet.
The rower was a very young woman, gazing at her with innocent welcome, unaware that she was seeing herself in the future. Evelyn picked up the second pair of oars and the two of them began to make their way back across the water.
When they arrived at the shore, the rower waved as she set off to wait till she was needed again. Evelyn stood where she had just been a moment ago, though it seemed like it had been a lifetime. She was risen from the dead, beginning a new life of the unknown, a reborn being in an old body.
A piping plover family were at her feet, two tiny birds who had made a nest in the sand for their three eggs. They had been almost extinct, their sand nests too vulnerable to beachgoers, domestic animals, and developers, but with the help of scientists and volunteers, their species had been slowly recovering and was nearing stability. She sat down by the plover family and vowed that she would stay there till the young birds hatched and flew away. Whatever else she might do with the extra days of life she had been given, this was where she needed to be now. Was the rower who had led her to this Earthly place her true self, the Ocean Mother, or the whole world? Maybe all. It no longer mattered. The plovers would be safe for now..
Public Domain
This line is from an old Scottish folk song, “The Water is Wide,” that has been sung all over the world for centuries. It is about love grown old and cold, and made me think of how so many people in our century feel disconnected from the Ocean Mother, from whom all life emerged, and how we can find our way back to Her.
Thank you, Sara, for your kind words! I love your phrase “move through this liminal space with sanity and grace regardless of outcome.” An eloquent way to envision how to live in our challenging times.
A hauntingly beautiful story told at a time when we need to pick up the threes of ancient stories and hope that we can move through this liminal space with sanity and grace regardless of outcome,