Thursday, 17 September 2015

Seek and Ye Shall Not Find

Pop! Out flew the Moon which startled the girl in pearly white for it was such an unexpected sight that she had no choice but to follow; the stars the Moon trailed in its wake dazzled her eyes and made them water. The girl audibly sighed: the way they glittered and twinkled was so very pretty. So pretty that she had quite forgot the door she had a moment ago set ajar behind her; the gap through which she had hoped to peep in on a wiser, older land.
The Moon instead, now positioned overhead in the darkened skies, shone benevolently on her and held her captive in a river of light. It beseeched her to gaze longingly at its mottled surface which looked like a tea-preserved hard-boiled egg with its grey age spots, but nonetheless prized for its dulled luminosity, the light that radiated from within and spoke of wisdom.
The Moon having escaped Eden was exalted and wished to save the girl from her own burning curiosity: no young girl should be exposed to that which she thought she wanted to see. It would waken her from her adolescence far too early and end in tears! Just as it had done for other girls and boys before her. All that had peeked in before it was their time, before they had reached the first rung of maturity. The Moon had not always been present on those occasions or its place in Eden's skies had been compromised, yet it had witnessed even adults struggle after seeing the land of its forebears, for its beauty now inspired lust, made them envious of its simplicity.
Paradise held in time, the apple not yet eaten. Innocence not yet completely lost, but a tiny glimmer of humiliation found. The small green snake already begun its entreats, pluck the apple, eat the apple...from where it was strung among the Tree of Knowledge's branches. The fruit ripe and tempting, a burst of rosy colour against the spring-green leaves, almost willing Adam and Eve who stood before the Tree to partake of its juicy knowledge. Eve ready to instigate the deed, Adam needing a bit more convincing.
The opening act that led to mankind's creation...The scenes that follow it have happened...but HERE, they won't. The decision deferred. The 'what if they don't' captured for generations; whereas others merely wish to view the pause before that pivotal moment. Does Eve bite into the apple first? And how does she induce Adam to copy her? What were truths, what were lies? How much of what we think we know was improvised, then transcribed as irrefutable knowledge?
Irrespective of the truths or the lies, the young and the impetuous always had to unfasten the door, try its handle and were astonished when they found it unlocked, little realising that in doing so they substantiate what happens when you taste an apple laced with Knowledge. That which they've been given is now not enough; a Paradise glimpsed is too tempting - so desirous they must at once give everything up. Throw caution to the wind, sometimes without thinking of what they will lose, what they might miss, and the hardships they may have to confront or endure, so convinced are they that the grass will be a shade greener in this Eden. The contemplation of an unknown Eden always leads to the Sin of Envy being born; some believe Eve was guilty of this before she bit into the apple, that there was some yearning for knowledge already deep within her. The small green snake stirred it from its dormancy, provided the apple as the key and the tree as the portal. Adam, then unversed in the guile of women, and content to give in for a quiet life would have, as supposed, eventually followed inquisitive Eve.
Adam needed a nudge and so Eve plucked the apple, and set their eternal banishment in motion. And committing that unpardonable sin increased their courage for it could never be undone or atoned for.
They rolled the dice just as the full moon has now done in this suspension of time; they exiled themselves from Paradise, little realising that their descendants would forever seek it.

Picture Credit: New Zealand, East of the Sun, West of the Moon, by Kay Nielson