Week 3: The Purity of Hope.

Amongst the splendid spatulas, the portly pots and peculiar pans, in the clumsy cupboard just below the shallow shelf that displays a perceptible disarray of tea cups, assorted glass hope bottles, disorganized plates of all shapes and sizes, and Mémêre's favorite tarnished silver salt and pepper shakers, the spoon that stirs hope lies inside the lower cupboard in a quarky uprooted position, discarded a top the simple array of kitchenware. Mémêre deposited it there just after the very last day of hope bottling season, and quickly forgot about it.

But her daughter could not forget the intriguing spoon. Every morning she would rise early, hopping out of bed in her little night gown to check the cupboard for the spoon. Some mornings, if Mémêre was still asleep in her room at the top of the windy stairs, she would stand in the cozy kitchen, a tiny silhouette carved across the floor with the light of early morning, and hold the spoon in her vulnerable hands, slowly twirling it about as her curious little finger tips traced the grooves and notches of the magnificent ancient mystery locked inside the marvelously detailed wood.

She had asked Mémêre once where the spoon had come from, and her inquisitive question was quickly brushed aside amongst the busy bustling in the cozy kitchen.
One day, while sitting by the watching window, she asked Mémêre again.

"Questions like that are almost entirely unanswerable, but you will understand what I mean by this in time." Mémêre began.

"My little Enme, there are some things that just cannot be explained. For if someone or something created the spoon, and they were able to give it such great powers, then who is this person and where did they get the power to create the spoon?" she asked her daughter. "It is questions like these that will arise in your mind if you chose to ask yourself how the spoon came about." Mémêre warned.

Enme blinked slowly as she took this new information in, sitting quietly on Mémêre's lap facing her with wide eyes of innocence and voracious curiosity. She was barely six years old, but wise beyond her years and for the most part she understood what Mémêre was trying to tell her. And despite the warning, she still wanted to know.

"There is an explanation for this spoon, but it is one that will only open many more doors filled with questions and lead you down many winding paths of truth seeking." As she finishes this next bit, she pats Enme gently on the head and kisses her softly on the wisps of downy hair that cover the top of her little forehead. Then she settles back into the chair so that she can stare out the watching window while she passes on the story of the spoon to its next user.

"Before there were towns and villages and neighbors and walking paths, before many of our ancestors were born on this land, there lived a small group of people very close to where this house now rests. They lived a simple, loving life and never knew the fire of violence, the sting of hunger, or the pangs of hatred, greed, want, or envy."

"The graceful ones lived for many years in peace and happiness. One day, while wandering through the woods that surrounded their settlement, a little girl much like you tripped over something firm sticking out of the ground. After righting herself, she checked to see what had blocked her usual path to the blunderberry bushes. Tugging wildly at the oddly shaped piece of wood that protruded from the path, the little girl unearthed a large piece of wood that looked much like a the spoons her mother used to make their meals in the evenings. Thinking she had found a wonderful gift for her mother, she ran quickly home to give it to her." With this Mémêre pauses to think for a moment, staring further out the watching window as if staring directly into a time long ago.

"Her mother, wanting to appease the thoughtful little one, made their evening meal with the newly acquired spoon. The family ate as normal and went to sleep just as they did every other night when it grew too dark to see by the flecks of candle light."

"As time passed, bad things began to happen to the family." Mémêre sighed heavily as she revealed this part of the story, then continued.

"The little girl's mother had an accident while gathering vegetables for the evening's stew. She lived through the accident but was not able to see or hear, therefore she was not able to communicate, so she could not tell anyone what had happened to her. Then one day her father disappeared while foraging in the forest. No one from the tiny settlement had ever gone missing, so no one quite knew what to do or what to make of his absence. The very next day, the little girl's brother was cutting wood for the family's cooking fire and had a very bad accident. He was the first person in the village to pass from this world before his time, everyone else who had come before him lived until their bodies wore out and when the time came, they stopped, and that was that."

Enme sat listening intently. The story she had longed for was unfolding itself right before her, and she was completely mesmerized.

"When news of this spread, the tiny settlement went in to a state of panic and despair, for they had never known loss or sadness, and did not know what to do. They gathered together to discuss what had occurred, and decided that it would be best to visit the family, and help take care of the remaining children."

"As visitors came and went, food was prepared and eaten. The spoon was shared amongst the people of the settlement as they prepared food for the family and ate with them over their hearth. No one paid much attention to the spoon, for it was a gangly odd looking spoon and looked as though it had grown out of the side of a tree, not as though it had been carved by the hands of a human like the other spoons in the settlement."

"As the good people of the settlement passed through the house of the stricken, their hope and their kindness warmed the house of loss and despair. With each new hand that touched the spoon, a new energy was passed to it that became locked in the grooves and notches forever. From the pure spirit of these people, the spoon emerged as a positive center in the lives of the stricken family. When the first person prepared the first meal and ate at the hearth with the family, the accidents stopped and never returned."

"Do you understand what I am trying to tell you, my little Enme?" Mémêre paused briefly to see if her daughter could figure out why the family had so many bad things happen to them.

Enme nodded slowly but looked a bit unsure, wrinkling her nose as she sat with her hands clasped loosely on her lap as she waited for Mémêre to continue.

"No one in the tiny settlement knew the wonderful gift that the spoon held secretly locked inside its notches and grooves. It was only through the genuine goodwill of the graceful people in the settlement that the curse of the spoon was broken. They are lucky they were pure and generous kindly people. For the spoon holds great power. If this power is not shared and used for the good of many, it builds up and has no where to go. And just like trying to put lighting in a jar, the power in the spoon is unable to be contained, and will misfire and harm those around it if its powers are not shared."

With this Mémêre looked at Enme with tired eyes, and a weary heart.

"There is more to tell you, my little one, but I shall have to save it for another day. This season of hope bottling has taken a great toll on me, and I must rest now."