Wednesday, May 2, 2018

A Parable About Space and Time

This parable is inspired by a prophecy told by the Lummi people, the original inhabitants of Washington's northernmost coast and southern British Columbia. For thousands of years, they have worked, struggled and celebrated life on the shores and waters of the Puget Sound.

A parable about space and time
by Kyle Dome Doane

Before the storyteller, there was nothing to see.

The Universe was perfect
and everything was perfectly clear

There were no thoughts...
  • No words
  • No time
  • No stars
  • No planet
  • No mountains
  • No trees
  • No animals
  • No people
  • No human beings
Like a perfect mirror, anyone who looked into the universe would only see their own reflection. Most human beings were afraid to look for longer than a blink. But, the Storyteller wanted to understand the Universe. The Storyteller stared unblinkingly into the reflection.

After a time, The Storyteller saw deeper than just personal reflection. Was the Storyteller in the Universe? Was the Universe in the Storyteller? The Storyteller began to see the structure and form and void of the Universe.

But, thoughts began to form, then words. A question began to materialize within the Storyteller. When the Storyteller spoke The Question, the universe shook and shattered into countless fragments.

The Storyteller gathered many scattered words and ideas and tried to fit them back together, but pieces were missing and the new story was incomplete, rough and sometimes painful to hold.

The Looker took the story from the Teller and turned the story over and over to examine from different points of view. It wasn't easy. The sharp edges sometimes cut. The Looker could see current universe story, but could only see glimpses of the Way the Universe had once been.

The Hearer accepted the story without question and without examination. The Hearer copied the story and passed it to other Hearers who, in their turn passed the story to their lineage of Hearers. Sometimes Hearers would accidentally break off parts or accidentally add their own. This was seldom purposeful creation. Each lineage was certain their Story was the Truth of the Universe.

The versions of the story began to differ. Each time the story got handed down, it became smoother. More polished. Easier to hold.

Some stories became so polished, so perfectly clear that they simply reflected the image of anyone who looked into it.

And that is all.

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