Star-Seeker
She
had a cup.
And
that’s all she wanted. Ever since she could remember, Stella had
wanted her very own cup. People told her, that if she had a cup she
could see the stars in it. The only trouble was that no matter how
hard Stella looked, she never saw any stars.
What
were stars? Everyone around her always said that stars were bright
little points of light that the great Lighter had set in the sky many
ages ago. No one Stella knew had ever seen the stars, but that didn’t
matter too much. They knew the stories.
And
the more stories Stella heard, the more she wanted to see the stars
for herself. People said that stories came from the stars. A few even
told her that the great Lighter had written his
story there. They said that his story was the most beautiful story
that had ever been told. Stella wanted to read it, and that is why
she made a cup. Now, all she had to do was figure out how to find the
stars in it.
“Not
that way,” an old voice said one day, “You must fill the cup
before you can look into it.”
“Fill
it? But if I do, won’t that block the stars?” Stella replied.
A
soft laugh, “Only if you fill it with things.
If you want to see the stars, you must fill your cup with thoughts.”
“Where
do I find these thoughts?” Stella breathed.
“Follow
the way up,” the old voice replied, “If you go long enough, you
will find a great cup full of stars. They call it the See.”
“The
See,” Stella whispered, “Yes, I will look for The See.”
And
she did. With eyes trained to her footsteps Stella traveled,
carefully watching for a rise in the ground. Whenever she found one,
she followed it. Many people she met on her way up, but most of them
were going down.
“There’s
nothing to see up there,” one man grumbled.
“You’re
wasting your time, child,” a woman said.
“Don’t
lose your life! There’s things to be done and got,” another man
exclaimed.
“But
I want to see the stars,” Stella always replied.
Over
time, as Stella watched the people who passed her, she realized that
while most of them had cups, they were all full of things: money,
toys, papers, books, treasures – even some beautiful things like
flowers and gems. But how could those people hope to see the stars if
their cups were always so full of things?
“Go
beg somewhere else,” a woman jeered.
“Look
at that! Cup as empty as a bucket-head,” a man sniffed.
“Empty
cup! Empty cup!” the other children taunted as they passed her,
going down. Their cups were overflowing with toys and treasures.
Sometimes Stella wondered if maybe she should put something in her
cup too. At least they would leave her alone.
“You
owe it to yourself,” a kind woman said.
“Here,
take this penny, and these dolls,” another cooed.
“That
tiny cup’s no good with nothing in it,” a tall man huffed.
But
Stella never forgot the stars.
“I
want to see the stars, I want to see the stars,” she whispered to
herself, “And if I have too many things in the way, even reaching
the See won’t help me.”
So
she kept her cup small and clean.
“It’s
all right, you know,” a man’s voice murmured, “They can’t see
further than the cups in their hands. Keep yours free of stuff, and
soon enough, you’ll find the See.”
“Have
you been there, sir?” Stella replied.
He
laughed softly, “Many times, so many I’ve lost count. But I never
stop wanting to go back.”
“Is
it really that beautiful?” Stella asked, enraptured.
“Oh,
more than they say,” the man murmured, “With too many stars to
see even in your cup.”
“But,”
Stella whispered, “I want to see all
the stars. If I don’t see all of them, then how will I read the
great Lighter’s whole story?”
A
short pause, and then: “Dear Stella, no one can ever read all the
story,” the man said softly, “But I will tell you a secret. When
you fill your cup, look very closely, and you’ll see a way to find
more stars.”
“What
do you mean?” Stella replied.
“You’ll
understand,” the man said.
So
Stella continued, surer of her way and with more hope than before.
Let all the people rail at her and call her silly or empty-headed.
She was saving her cup for something better – more wonderful than
could even be imagined.
After
a while, the way up grew steeper and stonier. Sometimes, Stella
tripped. A few times, when she fell, she chipped her cup.
“No,
no,” she whispered, cradling it close, “Carefully now.”
Onward
and upward she went.
Finally
she came to a place where all behind was the up she had climbed, and
all ahead was only a slow way down.
“Oh
no,” she whispered, kneeling to search the ground for the smallest
rise, “Did I come the wrong way?”
“No,”
an old voice said.
Stella
gasped, “I know you! You sent me up here.”
“I
did,” the voice replied, a smile in the words, “And now, you have
come.”
“But
there is only the way down now,” Stella said mournfully.
“Look
up, Stella,” the old voice said.
“Up?
Look up?” Stella replied, confused, “I know how to walk up, but
what do you mean look
up?”
“Walk
your eyes up the ground,” the voice replied.
Blinking
slowly, Stella obeyed. Up her eyes strayed until they caught a gleam
in the distance.
“The
See,” she breathed, scrambling to her feet.
“Go
to it, Stella,” the old voice said, “And you will find the
stars.”
Never
again looking down to watch her feet, Stella ran, following the
distant gleam and shimmer as her eyes looked up for the See.
At
last, she was there.
Standing
on the edge of an endless expanse, Stella saw the stars. Across
rolling waves they glinted in more golds, blues, greens, oranges and
violets than Stella had ever dreamed of. But they were always moving,
so that no matter how hard Stella looked, she could not read what was
written in them. Then she remembered her cup.
Dropping
to her knees before the rolling waves, Stella plunged her cup into
the See. The water was cool and the very touch of it like waking up
from a delirious dream into the crystal-clear beauty of reality.
Drawing her cup up from the waters, Stella was stopped by a voice.
“No!
Don’t look!” it said.
“What?”
Stella exclaimed, startled, “What do you mean?”
“They
told you to look into your cup, didn’t they?” the voice replied.
“Well,
yes, so I can see the stars,” Stella explained.
“Don’t
do it! You’ll never
see the stars in there,” the voice said.
“How
else am I to see them?” Stella replied, shaking. Had she understood
it all wrong?
“There,
there, no need to worry,” the voice soothed, “You don’t quite
understand yet – but I’ll explain it to you. You see, looking
into your cup will never show you any stars. They are all stuck
inside the See.”
“Then
how do I see them?” Stella whispered.
“Ah,
that’s where they get it all wrong,” the voice replied, “You
don’t look into your cup to see the stars. You look into yourself.
That is where you’ll find them.”
“Do
you mean that the great Lighter wrote his story inside me?” Stella
questioned.
A
long pause, then: “Yes, yes the great Lighter wrote his story
inside all of us. Finding the See is just part of proving that you’re
strong enough and good enough to read the story. Now, don’t look
into your cup. Close your eyes and look within.”
Slowly,
Stella obeyed.
“I
don’t see anything,” she said after a little while.
“Then
you’re not looking hard enough!” the voice retorted, “Keep
looking, you’ll find it if you look hard enough. If you’re good
enough, that is.”
“I
am good, I must be good,” Stella whispered.
She
knew not how long she knelt there, holding her cup, but not daring to
look into it. Still she never found a single star.
“Maybe
I am not good enough,” she thought aloud, sadly.
“Good
enough?” a new voice rejoined, “What is this about being good
enough?”
“Oh!”
Stella exclaimed, surprised by the sudden new person, “You see, I
am trying to find the stars. But I think I must not be good enough to
see them.”
“How
can you see the stars if your eyes are closed?” the voice asked.
“By
looking within,” Stella replied, “The other one said that you’re
not really supposed to look in the cup, because stars aren’t
written in the See, they’re written inside everybody.”
“But
if the stars – and the story of the great Lighter – were written
inside everybody,” the voice replied gently, “Then why have a
cup? Why look for the See?”
“Because
– because we’re supposed to prove that we’re good enough,”
Stella replied, shaking her head with confusion.
Slowly,
the voice spoke: “Stella, the great Lighter didn’t write his
story for the people who are good enough. That’s not how it works.
He made the stars, the See and the story they hold, for the people
who care enough to look for them. It’s not about being strong
enough, or good enough, or wise enough, or smart enough. It’s about
believing that since the great Lighter said the stars are in the See,
then they must be there. And since they are there, then there is
where he means for you to find them.”
“Yes,”
Stella sobbed, realization finally dawning, “Yes, that must be
true!”
“Look
in your cup, Stella,” the voice said.
And
opening her eyes, Stella did. There, in a little ring of the See,
countless stars appeared. After gazing at them with wonder for a very
long time, Stella realized she could make out some words.
“Seek
and ye shall find.”
“Look
very closely,” she whispered to herself, remembering what the man
from before had said.
Leaning
down, she peered into the water. Closer and closer she looked until
something got in the way. With a start, Stella found herself gazing
down into her own face.
“But
if my face is in the cup,” she whispered, brows furrowing, “And
my face is in it because my face is above it, then . . .”
Stella’s
eyes wandered over the brim of her cup.
“Walk
your eyes up the ground,” she whispered. Out across the See she
looked. Slowly, hesitantly, Stella walked her eyes up the See.
And
she saw them. And her eyes flashed. Then they bounded, running up the
new stretch of space faster than thought.
“What
is it?” Stella gasped, eyes so wide she felt they must burst and
heart so a-flutter she thought she might fly.
“It
is called the Sky,” the voice replied. Looking to her right, and a
little down from the Sky, Stella saw a tall form beside her.
And
a face. And in that face, a smile.
“Now,”
he said, “You can read the story, not alone, word-by-word in your
little cup, but together with whoever is looking up in the Sky.”
Eyes
straying back to the wondrous sight above her, Stella breathed it in.
But as she looked into the Sky, Stella realized that she would never
be able to read and understand the whole story – not even if she
lived a thousand years.
“But
why?” she murmured, eyes never leaving the Sky, “Why did the
great Lighter make his story so great that we cannot read it all?”
“What
happens when you reach the end of a story?” the man asked.
“Then
it’s over,” Stella replied, nodding slowly, “I see – if the
story ever ended, then that would mean the great Lighter must have a
sort of end to him too?”
“The
great Lighter is so enormous and powerful and beyond our understand,”
the man said, “That even the story in his stars doesn’t do him
justice. One day, however, when you have been reading the story for
long enough and when he deems you are ready for the greater story, he
will take you up beyond the Sky into this place called the Heavens.”
“So
this isn’t the only story?” Stella whispered.
“No
– this is just a glimpse of the story that goes on forever in which
each new chapter is better than the last.”
Stella
did not reply, but instead, walked her eyes to the farthest corner
they could reach and began reading.
“In
the beginning, the great Lighter created the Heavens and the Earth,”
“It’s
perfect,” she whispered, glancing over that beautiful sentence
again, before moving on to read the rest of the great Lighter’s
story.
~
~ ~
Beside
a small pile of shards the young man knelt, tears running down his
face to fall softly onto the shattered pieces below.
He
had dropped it. He had dropped his cup, and now he didn’t know what
to do.
“There’s
nothing left now,” he whispered, shaking his head. Without a cup,
how would he see the stars? He wouldn’t . . .
“Good
for nothing,” voices sneered.
“Worthless
– not fit to live!” others scoffed.
“No
cup – no point,” a final one whispered.
Fingering
a large, sharp shard, the young man nodded slowly. They were right.
He was useless now. Hopeless and empty as he had ever kept his cup.
At least if he had put things in it, they might have survived the
fall. Now all he had left were a few pieces of crumbling earth.
Best
to just end it now.
“Wait,”
a soft voice called. The young man started so violently, the sharp
shard in his hand nearly did cut through his wrist by accident.
“For
what?” he replied, “I have nothing left.”
“That’s
not true,” the voice replied, and he felt a small hand laid on his
shoulder, “Here, you can take my cup.”
For
a moment, the young man was too shocked to reply as the small hands
pressed their tiny cup into his own.
“It’s
all right,” the little voice laughed, “You see, I don’t need my
cup anymore.”
“But
how do you see the stars?” the young man whispered.
A
short pause, then: “When you reach the See and scoop some of it in
your cup, look very closely and you’ll see.”
“I’m
not sure I understand,” the young man replied.
“But
you will,” the voice said, “Just remember to look very closely
into your cup.”
“Thank
you,” the young man whispered, clutching the cup close, “Thank
you, please, what is your name?”
“Stella,”
the voice replied as the small hand took his own, “What is yours?”
As
he regained his feet, the young man smiled.
“My
name is Astron,” he replied.
“Journey
well, Astron,” Stella said, “And may the great Lighter guide your
path.”
And
as Astron strode away, Stella glanced up into the glorious Sky
overhead. There she read again:
“My
cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the
days of my life, and I shall dwell in the House of the Lord forever.”
Amen
