Day Twenty Three — Life Crafting
“The ceremony is after tomorrow and nothing is finished!” Lily paced, trying to dissipate the nervous energy that was building inside her.
“Slow down, you are going to wear a groove in that floor,” sister Benedict said. The sister didn’t understand what the hullabaloo was about. Over the last three weeks they had had five general rehearsals, two fittings for the evening wear, daily light and sound checks, one mandatory all hands coordination meeting, several dragon training sessions, a menu sampling buffet, daily practice sessions for the symphony orchestra, on the beach, in the actual setting, and two changes of decor, light and sound show with lizards included, in real time.
She would have liked to tell Lily that she was driving everybody up the walls with the constant fretting, but decided against it.
“Why don’t we go over the list together, to see what’s left?” she asked, solicitously.
“The draping is not in place yet,” Lily started.
“We agreed we’re not going to do that until the last day, it’ll get dirty,” sister Benedict explained.
“Flower arrangements,” Lily continued.
“Same. Last day, so they’re fresh.”
“Still haven’t selected a style for the tables and chairs.”
“If you don’t have any preferences, we can ask sister Jesse to pick something that works well for food serving.”
“We haven’t decided who, besides Seth and I, will join the welcoming delegation, the wisps like it when we make a big fuss over their arrival. They decided to show up on the beach, so we’ll have to create some sort of setting for that.”
“OK.”
“It’s too hot. They are going to mention it, I know they will. We should do something about that.”
“They know what the climate of the planet is, I can’t imagine they’ll have an objection to that,” sister Benedict said.
“They always complain about the heat, they say the charge transfer is accelerated and they can’t function properly as a group under these conditions,” Lily started worrying about possible aberrations in the Fusion Cloud.
“We’re going to create a cooling field,” sister deAngelis said.
“What if it interferes with…” Lily started.
“We’ll make it large enough so it doesn’t,” sister Benedict started to get bored with the fruitless what ifs.
“Ael’s dress is too long, I knew it was going to happen, I asked her to try it on the whole week,” Lily found another anxiety source.
“I’ll fix it for her, don’t worry,” sister Benedict offered.
“Humon only came to the last six rehearsals, I’m concerned he missed something,” Lily continued.
“I can’t imagine how he could, given your level of scrutiny,” sister Benedict thought, but said nothing.
“Who is watching the dragons, other than sister Joseph? She can’t possibly take care of that all by herself?” Lily said.
“Sister Novis and a couple of her students,” sister Benedict said.
“What if…” Lily started again.
“Trust me, they won’t fail. They’d have to face sister Joseph after that!”
“Is the healing garden ready for guests?” said Lily.
“Sarah had done nothing but polish it up for the last week. It is lush and flawless.”
Lily went through her notes, trying to find punch list items.
“You have worked with the wisps for centuries, why are you so worked up about this event?”
“Precisely for that reason. In their opinion we haven’t prepared enough. They would have had a lot more coordination meetings,” Lily pointed out.
“But we’re not wisps,” sister Benedict said, “we coordinated enough.”
“If anything goes wrong, they’re going to mention it,” Lily anticipated.
“They are going to mention something anyway, I can’t imagine anything flawlessness enough to earn their awed silence.”
“Just for once, I wish…” Lily started, eagerly.
“Not going to happen, don’t plan for the wisps to say nothing, how long have you known the wisps? Everything has been planned, designed and prepared to the highest standards, you should be very pleased about that. You worked tirelessly at it.”
“I just wanted this day to be perfect for Lelia, it’s a very important event for the clouds, you know?” Lily looked at sister Benedict, unsure.
“Take a break,” sister Benedict said. “Did you try out your dress?”
“Haven’t had a chance yet,” Lily said.
“You are going to conduct the event, that dress needs to fit you properly,” sister Benedict pointed out. “You are comfortable among the wisps, aren’t you?” she asked Lily. Many times the sister noticed her, always surrounded by a Vlorian crowd like a mother hen guiding chicks to green pastures. Lily always looked put together and in control, despite what the sister could only imagine was a tiresome excess of questions and comments, most of which didn’t make much sense to a human.
“As comfortable as one can be when wisps are involved,” Lily answered.
“You married one,” sister Benedict pointed out.
“Humon is different,” she replied.
“I’m sure he is, dear,” sister Benedict remembered Lily’s husband melting into a cotton candy cloud on the beach, and shifting in and out of reality for hours on end while he connected to the Simplex. Through the three trying weeks of preparations for the Bonding Ceremony, while everybody was within an inch of losing their mind, Humon never lost his composure, completely detached from the emotional turmoil that was surrounding him.
She stared at Lily amazed at how much she had changed, not her core personality traits, of course, which were all still there, but their external manifestation. There was no trace of the tumultuous Lily, the one who would cross the universe on a dare and cliff jump in the mist, the one who drove them crazy for months when she found out Humon wasn’t human, the one who couldn’t bear the maddening winds of Soléa.
The Lily in front of her, for all the compulsive behavior that had ran them ragged for the last month, was polished and controlled to the tips of her fingers, a perfect diplomat, never a faux pas, never a thoughtless remark, a woman whose strong spirit and remarkable capacity for hard work was carefully hidden under the perfect ease of her smile. The sister then realized that it wasn’t only Lily that changed, but all of them. They had all undergone fundamental changes, shedding the persona they were born with to become more Purple and more wisp every day, like butterflies inside their chrysalis.
Landing Bay, Terra Two, July 25th, 3245
Beloved,
None of us has the privilege to design our lives exactly the way we want them to be, and this may actually be a blessing, because we would make them a lot less interesting than they have the potential to become. That doesn’t mean, however, that you should leave it up to chance whether you should want something or not, whether you should create something or not, whether you should love someone or not. Your existence itself is a beautiful work of art, work that takes a lifetime to complete.
You are not given all the resources from the beginning, you have to start with what you have, to improvise, to envision possibilities, to look for the bigger picture. Some people are absolute masters at this, and no matter what life throws at them they never miss that larger canvas of their meaning, their goals are not removed from their consciousness for even one second, and they always find ways to improve upon their life’s work, even when their circumstances change.
Most of us stumble upon our purpose later in life, but you have to have one if you want your time here to make sense. Imagine trying to make a cake by adding random ingredients into the mix, just because you have them: there isn’t a single chance of it coming out edible, not to mention delicious. Your life works the same way, you have a cupboard full of ingredients and you have to select the ones that aid you in your purpose in order to make it happen.
The real art begins later, when after knowing what the ingredients are, you refine their quantities, the timing, the quality, with higher an higher standards of excellence, until the results become extraordinary. With craftsmanship comes enthusiasm, with enthusiasm mastery, with mastery a legacy to future generations.
Nobody can give you the recipe book, unfortunately, because every one of our lives is unique, so you have to create it yourself, according to your talents, your wherewithal and your circumstances. I can only assure you of one thing: every human born has a light to bring to the world, and the responsibility to do so, even if it takes a lifetime.
Let me tell you a story.
My grandmother was born to hardship, she didn’t have a hope to get an education; life on the farm where she grew up was tough and everyone was expected to put in as much physical labor as possible to get sufficient yield to feed so many mouths.
For years she didn’t make any plans for her future, which seemed to be doomed to hardship until her last breath. Despite this, her heart wasn’t burdened, because every day when she went into the fields she was mesmerized with the gold of the wheat swaying in the wind, and the rosy radiance of the sky at sunrise, the glow of the poppies in the afternoon light, the green of the trees and the gray of the mountains in the distance.
She was so immersed in this landscape around her that she often couldn’t tear herself apart from the pulse of life that surrounded her. The days were long and rough, but she was growing stronger every day, as the spirit of the earth got fused into her palms with the dirt she was toiling.
She learned to see the essence behind mundane things, the richness of color, endless color that God poured in abundance on the land. She discovered almost by accident that some of the plants were gracious enough to lend their colors to the people cultivating them: the turmeric yellows, the plantain roots greens, the onion skins brown, the madder red, the hollyhock purple, the indigo blue, the sumac black.
She started dyeing fibers on a dare, just to see what they’d look like, at first, and because the colors turned out beautiful, she made more. She wanted to show this beauty to the world, so she took a few spools of cotton that were meant for blanket weaving and used her new found skills to turn them into beautiful pastels of sunny yellow and heather gray, with blends of madder red and hints of hyacinth purple.
Her hands wove magic when she blended those colors in ways that enchanted her family and neighbors and earned her a reputation as a master weaver in five different counties. People started coming from a distance, to ask her to make things for them, a quilt, a jacket, a decorative carpet.
At first she didn’t think she’d find the time, but as her reputation grew it became clearer to everyone that the family blessed with these magical hands would thrive beyond any expectations.
Her intricate designs were laborious, and she soon realized she’d need some help around the weaver’s shop, apprentices, if you will, to keep the supply of materials well stocked for her products. She picked a few of the youngsters from the village for the task, an eager group, all energy and fire, who worked tirelessly to learn the craft and keep her happy with the works of their hands. A few of them advanced quickly, and got a chance to put the skill of their dexterous fingers into amazing works of art.
The word spread even further about this little shop in the village, and the masterful artwork that came out of it, and orders started coming from abroad, bringing the works of her hands farther that she ever thought possible.
People were mesmerized, not as much with the craftsmanship of her works, which in itself was exquisite, but with the spirit that shone through each of the pieces. Her artwork came alive, there was this unexpected quality about it that didn’t allow people to avert their eyes, it drew them near, it made them think, and dream, and wonder.
She captured the soul of her beloved land in the work of her hands, the colors of her youth, her memories, her love for her family, her ambitions, her marvelous skill. She depicted the animals of the wild, the contours of the mountains, the depth of the sky, her deep spiritual communion with the world, her love and appreciation for the fibers themselves with which she wove her visual story for the world to see.
Maybe under different circumstances she would have lived her life another way, and maybe her extraordinary skill would never have been revealed. Or maybe she would have found another way to bring it into the world, we’ll never know.
In the circumstances she was given she wove the tapestry of her life with the colors her native land gave her and the talents God bestowed on her hands, and in this way she gave her life meaning and left behind her works to beautify the world long after she’d gone. Nobody told her what to do, or how to do it, this is how the gift works in people’s lives, she instinctively knew this was her path to follow, and expressed her talent where she found herself to be, simply, quietly and without doubting.
My grandmother worked her entire life in that shop, creating one masterpiece after another, ever more discerning about colors, ever more educated about the chemical processes, ever more skillful about the craft. At the age of ninety seven she was still weaving, and created one of her most famous masterpieces, “The sunrise”, which you can see at the Museum of Applied Arts in Bangalore, if you ever find yourself back on Earth.
I took one of her quilts with me when I came here. We couldn’t bring much to Terra Two, because the space was so limited, but I wouldn’t leave Earth without that quilt my grandmother made. Every time I think a task is impossible to accomplish, I look at that quilt and reconsider.
You might be familiar with The Weavery, whose reputation no longer needs explaining, as it is often the case with extraordinary human achievements, but I’m sure you didn’t know that it was a little peasant girl with no education or prospects for the future who made it happen. This is my grandmother’s legacy, and I am proud to present it to you in the hope that you will also find the spark that lights up your purpose and brings the best there is in you and all your talents.
There are no real barriers to achievement, my beloved child, who can put barriers on the light God gave you to shine into this world?
May your life be fulfilled a thousand fold, and may the Lord keep you in happiness and peace! In my culture it is customary to offer a blessing at the beginning of one’s life’s journey, and I am honored to present you with mine.
God is love. You are love. Be happy!
Sister Benedict
