The Tale of the Found Spoon

Once, there was a little spoon that held no more than a single pea. Its life was spent serving and offering incense to the glowing coals that lifted its Creator’s prayers into the ether. Great care was taken in handling and keeping in a ceramic bowl formed from the hands of a Great Worker of Earth, ready to serve and to play a vital role in the arts of ceremony making. It took great comfort in its expectations and usefulness, after all, this was its purpose.

But one dark night, with the coals fading to a dull glow, the spoon was lost. Falling from its perch, it tumbled through the darkness it had once helped to color and illuminate. Searching, curiously at first, but gradually becoming more anxious. How could something so important have been lost? Surely it would find itself safe in the Master’s hands soon, but with each passing moment a growing blackness of doom set in. Doom gave way to despair as the separateness clouded the memory of the little spoon.

Having spent what seemed like eons (or perhaps was it moments?) wandering a vast desert of illusion of isolated Self, the spoon finally sat quietly with the chasm that had become so monotonous and grim, yet so familiar and safe. Quiet and still, whispers of past ages came fluttering through. ‘Accept the chasm, allow the weight of having been lost and all that plagues your heavy heart, tiny spoon. For this is but part of your story. Too Know the whole story, you must first accept this part.’ The spoon wept bitterly as the memories of its sacred role came flooding back. The injustice, the pain, the crushing rage of having been abandoned, all came swirling through the tiny spoon’s being, the rushing bitterness seemed about to break the essence of the spoon’s will. It could hold back the mighty storm no more. All that could be done was to surrender to the mighty forces that seemed to require everything from the spoon, all the stories, all the anguish, the buckets of acid tears that filled the void.

‘There is hope for you, Dear One,’ as gently as ever a sound could ever be. Suddenly, the levee broke as the spoon’s mind was free to see through the illusion of darkness and separation. Elemental forces came cascading from every direction, filling the spoon with great gusts of Air. It remembered the tree from which it was carved, the patch of Earth it spent its youth. The stories laid themselves out to see clearly and the spoon now sat in profound gratitude and acceptance

A deep slow inhale focused the spoons thoughts on the Truth of the dream he had been lost to. Transmuting the pain and grief into a glowing ember from deep within the spoon, filling its container with air & channeling the gust into fuel for the fire, it spent a brief moment truly feeling its new Foundness. After lingering playfully in the Wholeness, there was a release of the greatest dragon’s breath the little spoon could muster.

The flames leapt with passion and ferocity. The totality of existence seemed to be held in the consuming belly of the burning and the fire’s terror finally gave way to a brilliant shining as the breath was drawn from the spoon. A flood of inspiration and depth came rushing back as the entire field of awareness was filled with Light and glorious clarity as the spoon celebrated its Foundness, basking in the experience of being seen and held. This new state of being brought the Ritual Master great appreciation, as shining new Light on what was lost to darkness always does.