Touching Cottonwood

by Randall Simpson

  “Now humans were one of the animals to come from the banyan tree’s seeds, and one day, a young boy named Sachi was out in the forest gathering some wood to build a fire when he happened to come across the large trunk of the Great Banyan Tree. Sachi thought the tree was so marvelously large that it could easily supply enough firewood for a lifetime or more of building fires. He took out his axe and began to chop at the banyan tree, taking pieces out of it. The Great Banyan Tree was horrified by the attack and implored Sachi to stop, but because it was day and Sachi was awake, he could not hear the banyan tree. Sachi filled his bag full with the pieces of the banyan tree and returned to his village most satisfied.

  “That night, while the other living creatures were sleeping, the Great Banyan Tree had a talk with the Creator. ‘You told me living things would not hear me when they’re awake, and now I have seen the results of it. I was chopped on by a young boy today, and I asked him to stop. I was not successful. You told me this would be so, but why must it be?’ The Creator answered, ‘During the daytime, the other living things are busy going about their lives and do not know that they are part of you and came from you. They are lost in their senses, and so they cannot hear you in your natural voice. It is only at night while they are sleeping that they can hear the natural voice of your words.’

  “Later that night, the banyan tree developed a plan to try to speak to Sachi while he was sleeping. The tree caused Sachi to have a dream about the banyan tree. In the dream, Sachi was stuck to the banyan tree and could not free himself. The banyan tree thought this was a good way to tell Sachi that the two of them were connected as one. Perhaps then, thought the banyan tree, the young boy would not come back to chop once more.

  “The next day, when Sachi was awake, he could not remember his entire dream, but he recalled being stuck in the Great Banyan Tree and unable to free himself. This terrified Sachi. That day, when he went back to the banyan tree to cut more firewood from its trunk, he swung the axe with even more vigor, thinking that the sooner he rid the world of this tree, the less chance it would ever have of holding him the way it had in his dream. The tree cried out for the young boy to stop, but, of course, he could not hear the tree. Sachi gathered an even larger bag of wood from the banyan tree that day and returned to his village most satisfied.

  “Once more that night, the banyan tree talked to the Creator and asked why the young boy had chopped even more forcefully at its trunk. The banyan tree told the Creator about talking to the young boy in his sleep and holding him close to show they were one. The Creator said, ‘Things can become confused in dreams. This is not always the best way to talk to these other living things.’ The banyan tree was upset by this news. ‘How then,’ asked the banyan tree, ‘am I to let this young boy know that we are truly one, if he can’t hear me when he is awake, yet is confused if I speak to him in dreams?’ The Creator answered, ‘That is the precise problem I have also been dealing with—and unfortunately can offer no immediate solution.’

  “Though the banyan tree wanted to try to talk to the young boy once more that night in his sleep, it did not. The tree sat quietly in the darkness, waiting for the sunrise, thinking about the sharp axe that would soon be tearing away at its body.

  “Sure enough, the next day, Sachi showed up and began once more to chop most vigorously at the Great Banyan Tree. Many large pieces of wood flew from the banyan tree with each swing of the axe. The banyan tree, not being able to do anything else, simply cried out—‘Stop! Please stop!’ but to no avail. A large bag of wood from the tree was collected, and the young boy returned to his village most satisfied.

  “Many years went by, and seasons came and went. Sachi grew bigger and taller and stronger. For a long while, the Great Banyan Tree would cry out with each swing of the axe, but eventually gave up and resigned itself to its eventual doom at the hands of the now young man and his axe. The axe swings were now very mighty ones, and great hunks of the banyan tree fell to the ground with each swing. Now Sachi would return to his village with a small wagon full of wood from the banyan tree, most satisfied.

  “As time went by, the Creator took notice of the plight of the banyan tree and had great compassion for it. One night while the other living things were sleeping, the Creator said to the banyan tree, ‘I know you have asked for the companionship of the other creatures, but now I see that if this continues, you will surely die, and then all the creatures with you, since they are part of you. If you wish, I could remove the other creatures from the world, and you would be saved. I cannot remove just one, however, for they are stuck together, connected like your very roots, and to remove one would be to remove them all.’ The Great Banyan Tree thought about the offer, but could not stand to see his many companions taken from him. ‘Is there no other way?’ the banyan tree asked. The Creator offered to give it some thought and develop a possible plan, as creators are apt to do.

  “The next day, as usual, Sachi arrived with his wagon and his axe and began to chop once more on the Great Banyan Tree. With swift and powerful strokes, Sachi cut away at the tree. The banyan tree could see and feel that if the cutting were to continue for even one or two more days, it would die. In one last effort to try to get a message to Sachi for him to stop, the banyan tree shook its branches, and a large seed shook loose from a high branch and plopped right down on Sachi’s head. ‘Ouch,’ said Sachi, rubbing his head and looking up at the branches of the banyan tree and then at the seed resting on the ground.

  “Rather than getting him to stop, the pain in his head made Sachi angry. Still rubbing his head, he angrily kicked at the seed, and it rolled a few feet on the ground. He then took his axe and began chopping at the tree harder than he’d ever chopped. He came very close, right then and there, to killing the banyan tree and, though he knew it not, to killing himself as well. A hard day of chopping made Sachi feel much better from the rude knock on the head, and he took his largest ever wagon full of wood back to his village and was most satisfied.

  “That night, while all the other living things of the world were once again sleeping, the very weak and nearly dead Great Banyan Tree asked the Creator if another solution had been found to the problem. The banyan tree did not want to see itself or the other living things go away. ‘I have thought of a way that you might go on living, as well as allowing the other living things to continue,’ said the Creator, ‘and you could also continue to enjoy their companionship. A solution is this—I could make you invisible to them. Though you would be able to see them, they could not see you. In this way, they could not chop at you, for they could not chop what they could not see. In fairness to you, if you become invisible to them, I shall allow all the other creatures to now hear you while they are awake—if their desire is great enough.’ Though this plan was not what the banyan tree would have liked, it seemed the only solution, and the Great Banyan Tree agreed to become invisible.

  “The very next day, all the creatures woke as usual to go about their daily routines. Sachi picked up his axe, got into his wagon, and headed out to the banyan tree. As he rode along, he realized that though he’d taken the trail many times, somehow he’d missed the Great Banyan Tree. He turned back around, got out of his wagon, and walked in a large circle in the forest, but found no banyan tree. He was certain he was standing in the exact spot the tree should be, and yet there was no tree.

  “Sachi was getting discouraged and turned to get back into his wagon to go home, when his foot kicked something on the ground. He picked it up and recognized that it was the very same large seed that had hit him on the head only the day before. There was no mistaking it—there had been a banyan tree on that spot on the prior day, as it had been over the past many years, yet now it was gone. It had vanished without a trace except for the one seed. That puzzled him, and he greatly desired to understand the mystery. At that very instant, as he looked at the seed and pondered the mystery before him, he thought he could hear the sound of a voice in the forest, saying to him, ‘Sachi, the seed is from the
Great Banyan Tree that you have chopped on for all these many years. That is my seed, and I am that tree. A similar seed you also have come from. Because you have chopped on me these many years, almost killing me, I shall forever be hidden from you to save us both. If you chopped much longer, both you and I would surely die. But remember this, all things touch each other and are connected. As goes one living thing, shall go all. Carry that seed with you as a reminder of the Great Banyan Tree and all things connected to it.’

  “The startled Sachi took the seed and was so excited that he left his wagon and axe where they were and ran all the way back to show the others in his village. He told them the story of the banyan tree and how he’d chopped on it for these many years, but now it was invisible. He showed them the seed and told them it proved his story about the connectedness of all things. Though a few of the villagers were amazed by his story and believed him, many more doubted what he’d said.

  “Each night thereafter as Sachi slept, he dreamt he was sitting in the branches of the Great Banyan Tree, and as it held him there, it would speak to him, telling him of the mysteries of the world and how it dearly loved all the living things. Though Sachi also told these dreams to others, he knew that every one of them would have to be hit on top of their heads with their own banyan seed to understand the mystery of the now invisible Great Banyan Tree.”

  Old Blind Carl finished the story and took a deep breath.

  “You still tell that so well,” said Matthew. “Exactly the way I remember it.”

  “Thank you,” said Carl. “It’s been a few years since I’ve told it. There are fewer kids in this town now to tell it to. I don’t get a chance to tell it as much as I’d like.”

  “I’m glad to have given you the opportunity. Now I’d like to tell you a story. You’ll need to listen carefully….”

  Carl slowed his breathing so that not even it could interfere with his ability to pick up every sound and every space between the sounds around him—the rushing river, chattering birds, some leaves rustling in a slight breeze, and the new silence from Cottonwood.

  Then Matthew leaned very close to Old Blind Carl and whispered in his ear, “I have a gift for you, Carl Taylor….” His voice blended in with the other sounds, so that it could have almost been the wind or birds or the river speaking.

  Carl remained silent, but his heart began to beat harder. He immediately remembered a love—a woman he’d left behind in his life so many years before. The feeling growing in him now reminded him of the feeling he’d get as he heard the footsteps of this love approaching. He could recognize her footsteps at once, and it would set his heart racing. This same kind of stirring from so long ago was not of the physical, but the anticipation of the arrival of something loved, missed, and cherished. This new anticipation grew inside of him and was like the anticipation of the arrival of spring after a long winter, rain after a drought, a homecoming after many years away. It was all those things, and still something more ancient.

  “Do you hear it?” Matthew continued with a whisper, his voice still blending perfectly with the surrounding sounds of nature so that Carl wasn’t sure if Matthew had actually spoken at all.

  Then it opened to him. The connection was made; the message in the footsteps and the quality of Matthew’s voice fit together to complete the puzzle and open a doorway for Carl.

  “Now I know your voice! I never imagined…” Carl finally said very softly.

  “You did imagine though, didn’t you?” replied Matthew, still in a whisper and still close to Carl’s ear. “Imagined your whole life, but never believed.”

  “Hoped, but never believed,” began Carl, his voice now weak, trembling, and ready to shake the forming tears loose from his sightless eyes. “But how can this be? Yet it is! I hear it so plainly! Why didn’t I recognize you?! The stories…I’ve only heard stories…miraculous stories….”

  “A change…that’s all,” replied Matthew. “It found me…I wasn’t looking.”

  “Yet you’re still Matthew Duncan, the boy I watched grow up—the same, but now this….”

  “I still bleed, eat, laugh, cry, and suffer—but now I see the connections between them. That’s all.”

  “You must tell me the story of your change someday…” Carl’s voice trailed off. Out of his sightless eyes, tears finally began to flow. They were large tears that streamed effortlessly down Carl’s wrinkled face and landed on his pant leg. His trembling hand was barely able to hold his cane.

  “Perhaps someday I will, but first I have a gift for you,” said Matthew.

  “To tell me I’m dreaming?” asked Carl.

  “No,” said Matthew, still close to Carl but no longer whispering. “This is most real. This gift shall be most real.”

  Matthew put his hand on Carl’s; the trembling stopped.

  “What brings you to me? Why me? Why now?”

  “Let the reasons go. Let them drift away. They offer no substance or nourishment. They are words and words are shadows. They can only point to the truth hidden in the silence between those words. In that silence is the perfect, eternal, and connected truth of all things. Listen, Carl Taylor…here is your gift…here is your banyan seed….”

  As Matthew’s voice blended once more into the sound of the wind and the river, in an instant, a bright doorway opened in Carl’s mind. A flood of something hit him. Something intense he’d never experienced. It was like the warmth of sunlight on his skin or the smell of flowers, but with a strange and new intensity.

  LIGHT!

  Light flooded into Carl Taylor’s world for the first time. Oh, the joy and splendor! He’d imagined, yes, imagined many times what it would be like and feel like. The world of light! The seeing world! Then shapes begin to flow in. Shadows, textures and…

  COLOR!

  The flavors, the intensity, the joy of color!

  Carl began to cry harder. He dropped his cane and fell off the bench to his knees, touching the delicious green grass by the river. He touched the yellow dandelions and the brown dirt. He crawled along the ground like a baby, still in tears, and through them, seeing and touching and tasting the light and colors with his eyes. Carl Taylor was seeing the world for the first time.

  He knelt upright and looked at the blue sky.

  BLUE!

  Deep, eternal, soothing blue! Then Carl noticed the white and shades of gray in the clouds. He then looked down to the cool green trees of the mountains across the river. Oh, the mountains!

  MOUNTAINS!

  Towering, soaring, wondrous mountains! Their magnificence! Their splendor!

  Then Carl noticed the river.

  THE RIVER!

  It was alive and moving! It was a swirling mixture of green, blue, white, and a multitude of colors mixing, dancing, and reflecting the sky and mountains in a chorus of color. He crawled over to the river and got onto his belly, touching the water with his hand.

  WATER!

  That’s what water looked like! It was translucent and full of light and color. The moving, shimmering drops fell from his trembling fingers back to the river. He plunged his hand down into the river. The water was cold—deliciously cold! He held his hand under the moving water and swished it back and forth, watching the way the light and tiny silver bubbles in the water danced and changed. He marveled at his own brown hand beneath the water as it was highlighted by the sunlight passing through.

  Carl then got up from his stomach and knelt by the river, watching it all and absorbing all the light and color he could possibly hold—all that he had spent a lifetime missing.

  Surely, this is a dream! A splendid and wonderful dream!

  He turned and looked back toward the green bench. Matthew was still sitting there with a slight but unmistakable smile.

  MATTHEW!

  That’s what this man looked like! His hair the color of the rich brown earth, and even from where Carl was, Matthew’s eyes sparkled like the sun reflecting the blue sky on the river.

  Carl stood up on tr
embling legs and walked over to Matthew. Matthew stood up to meet him. Carl touched his face, his cheeks, his chin. “You are real! Matthew, what does this mean? What can all this mean? It is so wonderful,” Carl said, with a shaking voice and tears flowing.

  “It is simply a gift. It means what all gifts mean—I love you,” said Matthew, putting his hand on Carl’s shoulder. “A gift you are so deserving of.”

  Carl looked closely at Matthew’s eyes.

  EYES!

  They were sparkling, brilliant eyes, rich with translucent colors like water, only more solid and in less motion, but still alive. The colors were mixed in them, but were mainly shades of blue. That’s what eyes looked like! They were centers of life, light, intensity, and consciousness.

  “Thank you,” Carl said, beginning to cry once more. “Thank you so much.” He then gave Matthew as strong a hug as he could find in his aged body. “I love you,” he whispered to Matthew.

  Matthew whispered back, “And now it’s time for one more thing.”

  Carl pulled back and looked at Matthew. “Something else?” he asked.

  “Can you feel what it might be?” asked Matthew.

  After a moment, Carl looked over at the river and then back at Matthew. “So that’s why it’s always water! The life of the water—life is the water! I can see that now.”

  “Are you afraid?” asked Matthew.

  Carl smiled. “Afraid? I have lived a long life. What is there to fear now? I’ve always believed that spirit always seeks out spirit in the end. I only hope my heart is strong enough—but no matter what, I know I’ll be going home.”

  Matthew smiled and led Carl down to the river, and without bothering to take off their shoes, they both stepped in up to their knees and then up to their waists. Carl looked closely at the swirling symphony of sparkling light dancing in the water around him. It was hypnotic and alive, organized yet chaotic—all at the same time. He could lose himself in it. Then Carl felt one of Matthew’s hands on his back and then one on his shoulder, pulling him back into the water. For a moment, Carl resisted but then relaxed and found himself looking up at the eternal blue sky, then darkness…then light. Carl Taylor knew right then that he would indeed be going home.