(The
following story about another aspect of BOOKS and their likenesses is from the imaginative memoir THE LIGHT TREE JOURNAL; Portrait of a Lost
Star; (an unpublished manuscript.) The tale has been adapted, and abridged; and it is included in this collection of sketches
and short stories to stretch the mind and open up creative ideas of what
we can do to bring ourselves joy by giving it away.)
The Geocache Books--- & the Story Behind the Waterfall
Tired but somehow rejuvenated after their long trek a small group of trampers discover the unofficial track along the upper edge of the river pool leading to the falls. But only one of them has gone further and pushed through the overhanging dense bushes, and discovered the way to enter the cave behind the waterfall; he seemed not to mind getting wet. Once he was well into the cave he brought out a small torch and started to explore.He nearly missed finding it. Debris had fallen in upon the small niche in the rock wall at the back of the cave, and had all but buried it. He caught the glint of something red in the beam of his torch. He brushed away the loose earth and pebbles and uncovered a small plastic container with a red lid. In the natural light, near the mouth of the cave he opened it and examined its unusual contents. On top of a small pile of objects was a note, written on a piece of blue card. It read simply:‘Take whatever you like from me.”There was a pause in time. As a space had opened up within him as he remembered something and perceived the glory within the words. While looking through the items a strange sensitivity enveloped him, and he touched the things in it more tenderly. Beneath a few childish trinkets was a pile of tiny handmade booklets. There were seven in all. When he came to the last he opened it. Its relevant title intrigued him ‘The Story behind the Waterfall.’ He looked, but there appeared to be no author; no name or address was given anywhere. Written on the first page of the booklet, which was all handwritten, was just one sentence – ‘Eureka! YOU ARE AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW!’ After that a kind of letter followed…and beyond that a blank page…and then what looked like a story. He read the letter; and in a hidden sense the person who had written it.‘To the Finder---to you, who are loved. Here you stand gazing at the transcendence of water---falling---in the place where rainbows have their end, and where they live and dream their dreams in the flying spray. You were drawn here. And you wanted to go as close as you could. As you got near, you discovered the way over the slippery rocks and in through the bushes into this secret cave, where you now stand hidden behind the veil of the waterfall---its bridal mystery about to be revealed to you. You sense something; were you here before? You look around. Then searching you found this thing of nought, this foolish thing; this small hidden chest.You opened it. Inside is this strange little book you hold; it’s for you: it tells you the story behind the waterfall. Now you will know what it means and why you are here. Take it with you. Share the story with others. Be a joyous fall of water yourself, as you come to know how truly you are loved and infinitely understood in all gentleness ; there’s no fear in love . . .’The letter ended here; but as though the writer had not finished it.He closed the little book. He held it and felt the surface of its cover. He turned it over in his hands awhile, staring at it; it was beautifully made; ‘…there’s no fear in love…perfect love casts out fear.’ Suddenly he spoke the words; and unknowingly, waited; but no shallow glibness came to annul the fleeting surge through his brain that had come as he had read, and now again as he spoke: the light had not been rejected by his inner being. He opened the book, further opened in himself, and he turned the pages until he came to the story…and he began to read with new clarity.‘The Story Behind the Waterfall‘From beneath the dark Unknown a spring arose---hidden from the beginning of the world the source of its surging power. Bubbling up from the depths it broke through the skin of the earth, piercing through it at even its densest point. Then, overflowing its place, it left its pool and ran through a channel, then down through valley after valley building up its strength as the land which held it descended. More and more the water joyed as the valleys of sorrow deepened.After a great lowering distance through a wide plain it flowed; and on level land, it slowed its pace; till it had no power, and came to its end. With no fall, it seemed to die.The Earth reached out to help and opened her mouth; in her fearsome shaking there was a sudden dropping away; and a precipice was left; a sheer rock wall down to a new Land below. In its ever instantaneous response the water tumbled down the precipice. In joy, it fell. And it fell continuously. And great was the power in its falling.As the water poured from so great a height, it gathered more strength and energy than ever it did along the simple trials of its ordinary course---for then, only newly narrowing down, it had only slowly descended; and in shallow decendings gathered only little power.As great as its fall is the might of its power---giving, giving, giving. In its continuous falling it was surrendering all and never failing to receive an abundance more! For the more it fell, the more it was given. The more it poured, the more it received. And the greater its bursting joy, and power, and light!Those who saw and understood the joy awoke. And as many waterfalls themselves, poured out a mighty stream, that turned the tide of turgid human thought---bound by weary custom and age-old blind convention---those flat sluggish harbours of backwards living---and brought about Life’s promised filling in this the secret hour of a hidden world’s awaking.’*There the story ended. And the book closed. The man, strangely moved, put it in the breast-pocket of his jacket; he would keep it. He understood something of the shadow of its meaning; and treasured it. He replaced the Geocache* container in its small niche at the back of the cave for others to find. Six little booklets were left. Each one written he felt, for the next six finders. Every searching heart unique, each would have their own story. …If, that is, they were brave, or foolish enough to look.** www.geocaching.com
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