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children, dad, daddy, family, father, generation, generational, generations, immortality, kids, parent, parenting, parents, Philosophy, story
Slide Show
Heart and Soil 18-October-2011
“The town crier didn’t say the storm was raining acid. Did he? I recall his dramatization, but I recall nothing about the storm being able to wash away life itself. He should have mentioned that.” Gunnar was good at making light of bad situations in order to survive them, but Elizabeth could always see through him. He was truly worried.
“It will pass. All storms do,” she replied softly, knowing that her own voice was one of the few things that could soothe her brother, although he was unlikely to admit it.
The two spent days inside the cave, looking out at the rain, watching all signs of life get washed away. At first the rain only wilted the leaves and plants, but eventually it washed away… everything. Even after the rain stopped, Gunnar insisted they remain in the cave until the ground dried, now nothing but brown mud without a hint of ever having sustained life.
When Gunnar and Elizabeth did leave the safety of the cave that sheltered them from the storm, they found the same story painted everywhere they went. The entire town had been washed away, from its heart of townsfolk, to its very soil which had sustained the town and its people.
Over the following days, some of the townsfolk returned only briefly, to say good bye and collect a few belongings. What once was their home would no longer support life, let alone an entire town. It was time to move on. Some of the townsfolk did not even return to claim their belongings. In a matter of days, only Gunnar and Elizabeth remained.
“You know that fate calls for us to go now as well, right Elizabeth?” Gunnar grinned at his sister.
“And you know very good and well that I won’t be going anywhere,” she replied sharply to her brother.
“Oh I know. Nor will I. I just wanted the record to show that on this day, I spoke common sense, and I wanted history to remember you as the one who ignored it.” Gunnar couldn’t hold back a full, glowing smile now.
“Common sense, like all things noble, would be wise to know when to stand down to a Lady. Take your smug grin to the next town down and bring back some seed. I’ll furrow in the absence of your grin,” Elizabeth grinned back.
“Aye, Miss!” Gunnar saluted and went on his way. Elizabeth furrowed, as promised.
For months, the two planted furrow after furrow of seeds, while not one of the seeds sprouted. The two worked hard. They argued. They cursed the dead soil and they had to survive on rations they gathered from far away woods and neighboring towns. Gunnar and Elizabeth were even whispered as having ‘gone mad’ by folks in neighboring towns, as the soil they had been born into, yet continued to work, had been long dead. Yet the two remained, and planted seeds.
Now, as old folk tales go, you might expect that Gunnar and Elizabeth eventually lost hope, left the dead town, and one day far in the future returned to find it alive and well. Or, you might think that just before leaving the town permanently, they spied a small sprout that gave them hope and helped them decide to stay. You might think a lot of things. But you’d be wrong, because none of those things happened. Souls as old as Gunnar’s and Elizabeth’s carry no end of new folk tales.
Gunnar and Elizabeth continued to plant seeds in the dead soil, in spite of the fact that even with their strong wills and faith in the soil, they also knew that they might do so for a lifetime without a single seed ever sprouting. Yet they chose to do this because it was their home, and it was what they were made of. They did not hope that one day folk tales would be told of their hard work rewarding them. They did not wish for the day they could tell all the naysayers how wrong they’d all been, or the day they would feast on the fruits of the seeds they’d planted. They did not attempt to convince others to work the dead soil alongside them, with the promise of future fruits. Often, they did not even look toward a future where their home would once again be fertile. They sewed their hearts and souls into their homeland, because they could live no other way. It was not a choice or decision they made consciously. It was simply who they were. Old souls know that some storms, or the damage done by them, do not pass in a human lifetime.
Fortune did in fact shine on Gunnar and Elizabeth though, and eventually seeds did sprout in the dead soil. Not like they do in fairy tales, though… it wasn’t a magical moment where the sun shone down and a single seed sprouted instantly into a mighty oak tree. For years, seeds sprouted then wilted. Some seeds grew well then died overnight. Eventually though, the ground did become fertile, and supported an entirely new crop. It was different from any others that had grown in that soil before, and it took time to learn to farm this new crop. In the end though, Gunnar and Elizabeth’s efforts were fruitful… life did certainly, once again, flourish there.
If your home is truly where your heart is, your heart will never stop beating within the family that grows from your home. Gods may grant your soul immortality, and doctors may revive your body after the heartbeat within it has gone silent. Strangers can tell of the man they knew you to be. There are many ways that a man can leave a legacy, can be remembered, or can be defined as immortal.
Immortality isn’t achieved through books or pictures or folk tales… well, not entirely anyway. Generations sew what you’re made of into themselves as well as future generations, and what parts of you they plant in the soil you gave them will shape the lands around it just as much as the passage of time will. It’s a type of immortality that you can only achieve if you aren’t trying to. It’s a byproduct of having your heart in the right place.
Only your children can grant immortality to the very essence of who you are, and what you’re made of. If you’re really lucky, they may even manage to breathe that essence back into you when Gods and doctors have failed to do so.
Cheers from The ThreeFiveZero Soil
