The Day the Sun Spoke

Did you know the Sun spoke for a day? It's true!

One day, Mama decided people must want noise everywhere, all the time.

In the cities, there were few places left for quiet, and more space for noise was being cleared all the time. Nearly everyone was running to the cities anyway. So, She decided to give the elements voices.

First things first.  "Brother Sun!" Mama called. 

The Sun smiled at Mama, warming her. "Yes, My Lady?"

"Starting at dawn tomorrow, I want you to loudly pronounce your rising, movement in the day, and setting at night."

The Sun laughed. "I already speak! Sundials show shadows of the time. The clouds paint themselves for my arrival and departure. What other voice do I need?"

Mama shook her head. "Yes, yes. But the humans aren't listening anymore. TV tells the weather. Clocks tell the time. I want you to shout these things you do. Here, now, Moon!"

The Moon yawned and turned to look at Mama, covering Her face in a silvery glow. "Yes?"

"I want you to announce when you come up in the evening, after Sun's gone down. I also want you to sing as you make the tides rise and fall. The ocean will hum along with you."

Moon furrowed her pretty brow. "You sure this is a good idea, Mama?"

Mama laughed her huge belly laugh, sending a gale through some trees and causing a light tremor to ripple through the ground.

"Of course! You'll see..." Mama grinned.

So the next morning, dawn came as usual. In the countrysides, jungles, deserts and forests of the Earth, it was, as always, quiet and peaceful.  A time for meditation and reflection.

But in the cities, there was chaos.

As was his duty, the Sun started it. He came up over the horizon, loudly clearing his throat, sounding like a bear of a man.

"HARRRRUMMMMFFFHHHHH! It's time for THE SUN! I'm making my way over the horizon here...excuse me..."

Startled people fell out of bed, surprised by the booming voice.

But that wasn't all.

Suddenly the wind was whispering--or shouting, depending--to everyone. "Wind blowing! Coming through! Make way! Make way!!"

On the edges of the sea, those in expensive oceanfront properties were awakened by the ocean waves, bellowing in operatic tones, "High tide is NOW. Please remain alert!"

The Sun continued his cacophony, announcing his coordinates in the sky, everywhere, each hour. The winds continued to yell, the clouds whistled softly back. Trees groaned with age, and flowers sang sweet little tunes.

By noon, the whole city had a headache.  Even surburbanites in their wanton sprawl were in agony.

Experts were confounded. The military and police were sympathetic, but couldn't come up with a solution; they were just as immobilized as everyone else by all the noise.

A few of the wiser urbanites started up caravans and made their way to the sages and elders they knew and had studied with from time to time.  These wise ones had always lived on the edge of forests, in the outback, among the rural mountains and valleys.  The city people couldn't imagine how they were dealing with this madness!

Upon arrival, they were surprised to hear the wind blowing quietly, no groaning trees, and a beautifully beaming but silent Sun.

"We don't understand," the city folks said. "We thought this was happening everywhere!"

The country sages nodded slowly as they pondered the situation. "Let us see what we can find."

So they divined--reading cards, shells, tea leaves, and the wind itself. Once they had the answer, the wise ones and the city folks journeyed back to confront the scientists, police officers, politicians and other citizens.

Everyone asked the same question: "What did you find? Tell us!"

"Well," the wise ones began slowly, "we have lost the value of silence. The value of beauty for its own sake.  Peace. We have paved over so much, filled our heads with so many of our own creations, that we forgot the wonderful creation we're standing on. So, Our Mother gave us even more voices. She assumed those of us in the cities wanted no more silence, and took it from us."

Everyone grumbled and groaned like dissatisfied children. "Modern conveniences are what they are, but we didn't want the wind to start shrieking on a rainy day!" and, "I feel the sun every day! It doesn't need to tell me what it's doing!"

"Ah, but do you really feel it? Do you take the rays into your heart, or do you just take the light for granted?"  As the sages went on, adding that the countrysides had remained quiet, the people began to understand.

No matter what their grandmothers said, no matter what pleas came from the pulpit, everyone was too busy, too consumed with consumption for a little sun.  Who had time to truly enjoy the beaches they lived on?  What of the sensuality of a breeze wafting through freshly washed hair?

From her home deep within the Earth, Mama laughed again, sensing the understanding of the people. With a snap of her fingers, the Sun--now low in the sky--silently set. The breezes blew, but quietly. The tides no longer announced their comings and goings.

She knew the Moon would pout, irritated at not getting to use her new voice. But it was just as well that the people had learned quickly. It was exhausting keeping all those voices going!

Mama whispered to her wise ones: "Now you understand. And now the people can hear Me. Keep their eyes and hearts open. Do the proper ceremonies at these buildings and tearing-downs.  Make sure they tread lightly on Me. Teach them the workings of things, so they appreciate the power in the silence.  Preserve it where you can."

And that's the story of the day the Sun spoke...and why we should make sure he never has to speak again!


inspired by a speech/sermon by iyanla vanzant where she said something to the effect of "you don't hear the sun rise each morning"--it just does what it does, going about its business quietly, but effectively. 

she was speaking in the context of folks prematurely discussing divinely inspired thoughts and plans, but i was inspired to flesh it out in another way, considering what conditions would force the sun to speak, and what kind of creator/creatrix would enable that sort of lesson...

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