Come With Me III

“My lessons were unusual by your standards. I rarely sat in a classroom studying assignments in books. Some days I learned herbs with the Gardeners. Some days I learned curatives with the Healers. But these were not my principal lessons. The majority of my schooling was in life lessons, preparing me for my service to the people and the Mother. The most important lessons were the most difficult to learn. But, as is often the case in life, the most difficult lessons were always the most satisfying once mastered.

One of my first lessons was compassion. I suppose it was selected as an early lesson because my tutors knew that it would be troublesome for me. I had lived a life that was carefree and comfortable always. I wanted for nothing. Every night when I went to bed, I left the dress I had worn that day on clothes horse by the door of my room. Each morning when I awoke to go down to the shore, a clean dress was waiting for me. My dresses were of a simple cut and mostly unadorned, but the colors were a joy to the soul. I wore orange linen the color of the sunset, red velvet that made me think of rose petals, green and blue silks that rivaled the peacock’s brilliance, and rich brown cottons that were the color of fertile soil. Moonlight silver, regal purple, sunrise pinks and spring flower yellows were all mine to wear and absorb. I have a love of colors and was heartily indulged in this area. As I said, I wanted for nothing.

My meals, like my clothes, were simple but plentiful. My room was comfortable. I had no need of money since all of my needs were tended to. I had never had a moment’s worth of either physical or emotional pain in my life. How then, was I to comprehend suffering in others? I was not unkind, at least I didn’t think so. I was, to my young mind, simply practical and mature in my outlook.

After spending a day in the village helping Hilda distribute the charity that we in the service of the Mother were known for, I came back to our home grumbling. Hilda, who had said little to me all day, bade me sit with her for tea. I was tired and wanted to get the smell of streets and unwashed, unclean people that had surrounded us all day out of my nostrils. I sharply refused her request and went to my room to bathe.

I should have known better. I found no peace in my room and no amount of cleansing could remove the oily feeling from my skin. When I had wearied of scrubbing and my skin was painfully pink, I got out of my bath, dressed, and went back to the kitchen, hoping to find Hilda still there. I was not disappointed.

As I sat down at the table with a warm cup of spiced tea, I began to rant about the people we had encountered during the day. What was wrong with them? How could they stand to be so dirty? If they were sick, why did they not see a Healer? There were women who bore the marks of abuse. Why would they put up with that? Surely they could take up a trade and support themselves! Why were there people depending on us for food? The earth is so fertile. And what self-respecting person would allow his or herself to remain so ignorant? Why do they allow themselves to become so defeated? If they would just try a little harder, work a little more, then things would be fine for them. It was all very simple.

Hilda sat there sipping her tea, letting me rant on. She never argued. In fact, she never spoke at all until my indignation was spent. Then she set her cup down, got up and went to the fireplace, and brought the teak kettle back. She poured me a fresh cup of tea and told me to drink it since I was agitated and it would help me sleep. That was all she said. After I finished my tea, I found my eyelids were getting heavy so I told Hilda good-night and went up to bed. I fell asleep immediately. I don’t know whether it was my fatigue or if Hilda had put Dreamwort in my tea, but as soon as my eyes closed, my dreams began and that is when the lesson of compassion truly began for me.”

The cat meowed insistently, bringing Shay’s attention away from her reading again.

“All right, poor kitty. I know you’re hungry. How about if I dish you up a Tuna treat since you’ve been so patient with me?”

Shay stood up from her bed and the cat jumped to the floor. In tandem, they stretched their muscles. Shay laughed.

“I don’t know whether you’re getting more like me or I’m getting more like you! Come on then.”

A few minutes later, the cat was delicately nibbling her Tuna and Shay settled back on her bed to continue reading what she had written.