A Love Story For These Treacherous Times
In the not-too-distant future, an ancient storyteller dressed in a flowing robe exits his cozy cottage and walks toward the center of camp…
In the not-too-distant future, an ancient storyteller dressed in a flowing robe exits his cozy cottage and walks toward the center of camp where his tribe awaits him. A home-cooked meal resting pleasantly in his belly, the storyteller hears the sound of laughter coming from the circle around the fire, which lights up the wintry night like a beckoning lighthouse, calling the storyteller to join the tribe.
He approaches slowly, however, for he wants to savor the Moment and allow the tribe their mirth before he begins his tale. He stops and looks up at the sky, noting Jupiter and Saturn moving ever closer together for another Great Conjunction and he appreciates his deep feeling of connection with these superpowers in the sky.
At last, he reaches the fire and takes his place in the circle, feeling the comfort of the crackling fire warm his old bones, keeping the chilly February air at bay and, in a deep, full voice, he begins to tell the evening’s tale.
“Imagine: We are looking through the eyes of an eagle swirling above a mountain, mighty and majestic, reaching up through the clouds, partially lit by a moon shaped like an eyelid in the sky. Something on the mountain moves, we swoop down for a closer look and we see a beautiful, strong, courageous woman slowly moving down the mountain.
Closer in we see a tear streaming down her face and as we screech an acknowledgment, she looks up.
In that Moment, we become her.
There’s a hole in our heart that’s momentarily filled by the glorious eagle greeting us from above and after we smile back at it, it screeches again and flies off into the dark, cold night.
She’s been going down the mountain for 39 days and 39 nights and she’s made a promise to herself: one more full day and night and if we don’t see him, on the 41st day we must move on. After all, one can only move backward so far to be with another before one must begin one’s ascent again.
Still, she knows as long as the sun hasn’t set on the day tomorrow she has Hope, and so she uses that Hope to dull the pain of the hole in her heart and continues down the mountain.
She knows it’s dangerous to walk at night, so she takes it slow, but she knows that the further down she goes the more likely she’ll meet her lover and besides, it’s only one more day and then she can rest and begin a slow ascent.
Still, this part of the mountain is treacherous, and now that she’s been descending for 39 days, her path is more often dark than light, especially with the moon approaching its darkness. When there is moonlight, more often than not it is hidden behind the cliffs and crags of the mountain, which has been growing larger the further down she’s gone.
Cautiously proceeding, she recalls the moonless night in the middle of fall when she set off on her journey, full of hope and belief in herself that she could handle this mountain on her own. After all, she’d climbed it before without him by her side, so why not now? She was — and remains — strong and courageous.
But as the sun had approached its lowest point in the winter sky, her faith began to crumble. This time, the mountain was too cruel, too unforgiving. She longed for a companion, she longed to be with him, her beloved whom she’d left behind last summer with the sun just past its highest point in the sky. They’d danced in the waves of the ocean by day and made love in the sand at night. But she knew she had to move on and, despite his protestations, she’d left him behind, continuing her journey as she often did, without him.
Still, just days before the sun stopped its descent in the sky to mark the beginning of winter, an aching in heart had stopped her ascent. She had to go back, they were meant to make this journey together. Mere days before reaching the summit, she took a deep breath and began to retrace her route down the mountain. A part of her hated to stop so close to the top but a bigger part of her knew it wouldn’t mean anything if she didn’t try to find him. She didn’t know why she was doing this, she was running on intuition and feeling. She simply had to try to find him so they could scale the mighty, majestic mountain together.
“40 nights and 40 days,” she’d told herself, “I’ll descend and if I don’t see him by then, I’ll begin up again.”
At last, that evening, night number 39, she comes to a crevice in the hill where the fire pit she’d made on her ascent awaits and she realizes she can travel no more. She stops, makes camp and with a fire warming her aching muscles, falls asleep, dreaming of him.
When she wakes the next morning, of course he’s still not there. Unlike the start of this 40-day journey, she’s in no hurry to continue her descent, for she has no reason to believe this day will be any different.
Still, she continues, for the mountain has taught her this lesson, if nothing else: keep going, no matter what. All that day she walks and watches the sun descend behind the hills that rise from the green valley below. She takes a deep breath, knowing that when she next sees the sun, she must begin her ascent, with or without him.
So she continues, well into the night, into the top of the tree line now. Before she descends too far into the forest and loses any chance she might have to look down below and see him, she finds another campsite, next to a brook, another she’d used on her ascent and, with a sigh, she stops.
In the morning, she’ll begin her ascent. With or without him. She prays to her god and goes to sleep.
She takes it slowly in the morning, eating a relaxed breakfast, knowing that at least this time she knows the way and she has campsites ready for her. Still, she’s not going to hurry for perhaps he’s coming and somehow, even though he usually travels slower than she does, he’ll catch her.
As the sun reaches its peak, though, she realizes she’s promised: It’s time to ascend again. She’s given it her best effort and that’s all she can ask, all the mountain demands. Besides, her supplies are running low and while she’s skilled enough in the outdoors to find something to eat, Mother Nature is at her least providing in mid-winter, so she must go.
She allows herself some tears as she cleans up camp and then, taking a deep breath, tells herself it is time. She begins her ascent.
Far down the mountain, emerging from the valley floor, he has been climbing long enough for the callouses to begin forming on his feet. Will he find her?
His father had told him it was hopeless, yet he hadn’t listened, for to deny the hope in a man is to deny his will to live and if this man has anything, it is willpower.
So with the moon cut in half in the sky, he’d set out, ignoring his father’s calls, hoping he might somehow catch her even though she moved faster than he. Something in him told him: This time it will be different, this time she’ll wait.
He’d been a fool to let her leave last summer, but he was often a fool and she was strong and courageous. So she had gone as she always had before.
He climbs now, spurred on by a sense that not only isn’t she getting further from him as he’d been warned she would, but that she has been drawing nearer, and for some time now. This gives him Hope and so he ascends, leaving the valley below, entering the forest that hugs the side of the mighty, majestic mountain and upward he goes.
On his ascent, he’s found campsites and he’s known that she’d been there but it had been many months.
Until now, on an evening with the moon’s light swallowed by the sun, he approaches a campsite next to a brook and he can still smell it, a fire recently lit, and he knows: it is her.
He goes to bed, but his sleep is fleeting, as he joyfully anticipates the morning sun and when he wakes the next morning he can’t help it, he bursts into song and it is this song which he carries with him as he begins his ascent and it is this song that travels up the mountain.
She has stopped at another campsite early in the evening, still in no hurry, setting up camp in another crevice in the side of the mighty mountain, when she hears it: a joyful, gregarious, boisterous song traveling from below.
Could it be?
She knows it could, she knows it is. It is him and he is singing because he knows.
My campfire!
She stops her preparation and runs out of the crevice and looks down below and yes, there he is, still far away, but there all the same. She shouts his name but the fool is singing too loudly, so she begins to jump up and down, waving her arms, shouting his name and, just as her breath is about to leave her, he looks up and sees her, dancing like a fool on the cliff above him.
He waves at her and she waves back, but he gestures in a way that only she can understand: keep climbing, just take it slow, I’ll catch up!
She knows he will because if there is one thing he is known for, it is his willpower. And so the next morning, she packs up, her heart now full, and she begins her climb, knowing he will be with her soon.
And so it is, on St. Valentine’s Day with the mid-winter full moon just days away, that the two lovers finally meet, just shy of halfway up the mighty, majestic mountain, just before the going gets tough.
But she knows the way and he trusts her, so they climb together, and as they ascend, he suggests they scale the cliff, shaving off time so they can reach the peak sooner. She agrees, so he ties a rope to her and they begin to scale the cliff, with him in the lead now, but not far, true mountain climbers now.
As they ascend, they come to a spot where they don’t see a clear path. About to give up, some rocks shower down upon them and the man and woman look up and see a family of mountain goats above them and it is in this looking that they see the path. It’s clear as day now, knowing their success depends on trusting each other, working together, but also being in alignment with Nature, trusting it for guidance, so they thank the goats before they set off. Slowly but surely, one inch at a time, climbing carefully, seeking crevices that form pathways up the treacherous yet stable cliff.
They are high enough now to appreciate the fullness of the mid-winter moon and they thank Her for providing light and for bringing in the tides to the shores of the village where they’d met last, during the summer.
They ascend like this for two weeks. The moon’s light lessens until, just after it reaches its darkness, the two lovers arrive on the peak of the mountain. It hasn’t been an easy journey and they are low on supplies, but here on the peak of the mountain, the two will be given the gift of flight and so the way down will be much faster, much easier, than the way up.
This is especially true for her, having set off in mid-fall and now reaching the peak just weeks before the start of spring, never expecting the journey to take so long, but appreciating all that she has learned, and loving that she has finished it with him by her side.
On that last morning, as they are given their wings, the two agree to spend the days approaching spring playfully in flight together until the equinox, at which point they will part company and continue their journey alone, knowing that they will come together again for this has long been their pattern: travel separately and, very briefly come together, before moving on.
But this time? This time has been special for they could not recount the last time they’d traveled together for so long, especially on such an epic journey with such a beautiful reward at the end. A true memory had been made and this time, they promised each other they wouldn’t forget it.
So standing on the peak, the two lovers look deep into each other’s eyes and embrace for one last kiss, “See you again” he promises and she says, “Yes, see you again.”
At last, they leap off the mountain together, acrobatically playing with each other in flight, cherishing their wings until the spring sun arrives and tells them it’s time to depart for their next adventure.
“The End,” the Storyteller says and by now the fire has finished most of its dancing and the little ones have long fallen asleep, but those who remain awake simply smile at him as he says, “And this was the story of Mars and Venus as they traveled through the winter skies of 2021 and 2022. The mountain, of course, was the mighty, majestic and unforgiving Mount Capricorn, which always teaches us perseverance, until we reach its peak and leap off into the skies of Aquarius.
“There’s magic in the planets and their stories,” the Storyteller concludes. “Thank you for allowing me to share them with you.”
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