Listen to this on the Wild Creation Stories Podcast here:
Once there was a little girl who loved to dance.
She twirled and spun and moved her body like her favorite animals: cat, wolf, dolphin, snake, praying mantis.
There was nothing she loved more than to dance for others. Her movements were so joyful that crowds of people drew round to watch.
The little girl’s parents began to worry.
What would happen if their daughter thought too highly of herself?
She seemed awfully full of herself when she was dancing.
So the little girl’s parents declared that she was Too Much. They told her to “tone it down” and “save it for special occasions.”
The little girl couldn’t imagine a life where she wasn’t dancing with wild abandon, but she desperately wanted to make her parents happy.
So she learned to control her dancing (which meant becoming so self-conscious that she barely moved at all) and she learned to think less of herself (which meant thinking about her inadequacies all the time.)
The little girl’s parents were much more comfortable with this arrangement, since it was closer to what they experienced themselves every day, and it was much more manageable.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the planet, there was a little boy who always told the truth.
When someone asked him how his day was going, he responded that it was horrible, when that was his experience, or absolutely amazing, if that was the case.
When the little boy’s mother asked, “Do I look fat in this?” twirling so that everyone could see, the father answered, “Of course not, dear.”
“Well, I don’t think you look fat,” the little boy said honestly, “but that dress isn’t the most flattering for your figure.”
Most of all, the little boy told everyone he loved them, because it was true. He did.
The little boy’s parents were appalled at the things that came out of their son’s mouth. Even when he was saying nice things, much of what he said just wasn’t what you were supposed to say.
Something needed to be done.
They sat the little boy down to explain that you can’t just go around speaking your mind all the time. When your truth might hurt someone else, you have to squash it down. Just to make sure no one gets upset, you see.
The little boy was confused.
He liked it when people told him how it was, even when he didn’t agree, because it let him know the way things were for others. He thought everyone was like that.
It hurt his heart to learn that telling the truth was a Bad Thing.
The little boy didn’t want to be bad, not at all, so he stopped speaking the things he really wanted to say.
He began to repeat the words of his parents, teachers and friends, because that was much safer.
The years went by and the Dancing Girl and the Truthful Boy grew up as the socially acceptable versions of themselves.
The Dancing Girl allowed herself to dance, discreetly, when she was out with friends, but never so wildly that she’d attract too much attention.
The Truthful Boy joined a debate club and learned to play both sides of an argument so that he could hide the unpleasant truth whenever it might be unwelcome.
Then one fateful day, the Dancing Girl and the Truthful Boy, who had grown up on opposite sides of the world, ended up walking through the very same park.
The Dancing Girl was crying. Someone had accused her of having an inappropriately sexy walk that meant she was going to hell.
The Truthful Boy moped down the path because he’d just lost a debate in which he had argued for his own truth, and the entire team was eliminated from the national competition.
The Dancing Girl and the Truthful Boy were so lost in their grief that they nearly bumped into each other.
“I’m so sorry!” the Dancing Girl said.
“No, it was me,” the Truthful Boy replied. “I’m so clumsy.”
Their eyes locked.
“Do I know you?” the Dancing Girl asked.
“I don’t think so,” the Truthful Boy replied. “You’ve been crying. Are you okay?”
The Dancing Girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other and shrugged. It was a simple movement, but it evoked the effortless grace of dragonflies alighting on a fern.
The Truthful Boy saw. “Can I be honest with you?” he asked.
The Dancing Girl nodded with a shy smile.
“You have the most beautiful movements I’ve ever seen. It’s astonishing,” he said. “Are you a dancer?”
Tears filled the Dancing Girl’s eyes. “I was, but not anymore.”
The Truthful Boy shook his head. “This is going to sound forward, but I’m going to say it anyway. I think I’m in love with you.”
The Dancing Girl blushed. “We’ve only just met.”
“Not really,” he replied. “I see something in you and it makes me speak the truth.”
“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” the Dancing Girl said. “I think I love you, too.”
The Truthful Boy smiled at her. “You know what I would really love, more than anything?” The Dancing Girl shook her head. “I’d love to see you dance.”
The Dancing Girl flushed with pleasure. “It’s been so long. I’m a bit rusty.”
“I don’t care,” the Truthful Boy said.
The Dancing Girl closed her eyes and remembered what it was to draw the earth’s energy into her core and move.
At first she swayed, like fields of ripened grain. Then she leapt like a deer across the meadow, twirled and spun like the winds before a rain. She danced with the power of nature and her face lit up like the sun.
She danced until she was glistening with sweat and panting. Then she stopped.
“I, I’ve never,” the Truthful Boy stammered. “You are the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen.
“I think we’re meant to be together,” he said. “Sorry to be so blunt.”
“No,” the Dancing Girl said. “I like the way you speak.”
The Dancing Girl and the Truthful Boy joined hands, and as they did, their power and truth became one, igniting a fire in them both.
“Will you always dance for me?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said. “And will you always be your truth with me?”
He agreed.
The Dancing Girl’s embodiment drew a rush of great power into the world, inspiring many to rise up and be seen.
The Truthful Boy’s voice penetrated the hearts of many, and those who heard opened their eyes to the injustice and separation of those around them.
His truth living beside the girl’s embodied compassion blossomed into a possibility for change without destruction and judgement.
They danced and spoke hand in hand, leading the world into a future of brilliant, unknown possibilities.
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