Saving Ancestors' Stories Forever on Voyages of the Destiny's Dreams

Even the stories, themselves, were afraid of being forgotten.

They needed to be remembered forever, whether by oral telling or by written word.

The stories carried the uniqueness that made Mariposa's people distinctive.

The wisdom in the stories inspired, uplifted, and guided their lives.

The beliefs gave their lives meaning, purpose, and sacred connections.

For thousands of years, the stories and wisdom of Mariposa's ancient ancestors flowed through the spirals of time and space, passed along by the spoken word.

Then Mariposa's generation prepared for changes when strangers arrived who had different stories of their own.

Would the stories of Mariposa's people be forgotten? Would the uniqueness, wisdom, and sacred connections be lost?

Still a child, Mariposa needed to save the thousands of years of tales and wisdom from being lost amid the changes from the newcomers. To do it, Mariposa needed to make a journey by herself, despite her fear of being alone.

"These stories are painted in our souls," Grandmother told her. "A day will come when you need to join another storyteller group, share our wisdom, and travel to places our ancestors have never seen."

Now ten year old Mariposa thought of Grandmother's words.

She did not know she would someday meet a friend who would listen and record the stories in journals. Then far, far into the future, the journals would be found and the stories would be read.

It was as if the stories had a life of their own, continuing to be retold through webs of time and spreading the wisdom.

Now, fear sent shivers down the small girl's spine. She turned her eyes to the almond-shaped orbs of her furry, four-legged companion.

Her thoughts raced, then her breathing slowed, and she calmed.

"I am not alone. I am not alone. I can do this. Yara is with me." She stroked Yara's head and saw her tail wag. "Grandmother's spirit is with us, too."

The journey ahead of her called. She gathered her ten years of experience and the ancestors' wisdom, like a comforting circle of light wrapping around her.

Light and shadows of the sun made patterns around her.

"I know you are there, ancestors, and All Embracing Spirit of everything, everywhere."

Her inner voice whispered the words.

Courage flowed into her. The dark eyes became steady.

---

Over one hundred fifty years later, someone was reading the story of the young girl's journey out loud to others.

Outside, the fog curled like octopus tentacles around the attic tower of the Mystical Coast Lighthouse Keepers' House. Hundreds of feet below the bluff, waves crashed on the basalt volcanic sea stacks.

Fir trees hundreds of feet tall surrounded the house. The world was green and shining with moisture from the wet fog. Bears and cougars, eagles and ospreys, elk, deer, raccoons, herons and egrets, and other wildlife all shared the wilderness. It was miles to the nearest village.

Inside, huddled in the attic, a twelve-year-old girl named Emily read from the faded handwriting of the journal they had found in the old, wooden sailor's chest.

The battered, saltwater-stained cover said, "World Voyages of the Sailing Ship Destiny's Dreams, by Anya, Storyteller of the Blue Lantern."

Emily smiled at the children. "This one says, "I, Anya, have written down the wisdom and tales that I heard from Mariposa and her coyote-dog, Yara....Yes, Yara told me stories too, in her own style of communication. "

---

In her peoples' language, the young girl's name meant Mariposa, the word for butterfly. She looked much older than her ten years.

She was planning to fly far away, as if she had wings, from the family’s shelter on the coastal mountaintop.

The dry summer breeze lifted Mariposa's dark hair. Eyes like midnight held starry sparks in their depths. Her mind held thousands of years of secrets and wisdom.

She looked down from the top of the mountain. The sea's morning mists in the distance stretched below her.

Brown grasses, drying sagebrush, scattered oak trees with twisted limbs, and rocky boulders surrounded her. The landscape was beige and grey, but the sky overhead glowed like a clear, blue dome.

The simple shelters built by Mariposa's family sat like rounded shapes in the growing sunlight.

Mariposa's Grandmother was the keeper of the ancient stories for their people, and Mariposa was the new generation’s storyteller.

This meant Mariposa was a member of a special group who carried the ancestors’ stories in their hearts.

The tales were written not in symbols on rocks, bark, clay, papyrus, paper, or some other physical object, but in the depths of their minds. Then told and retold generation after generation.

Mariposa stood on the mountain plateau, near the boulders, caves, and sagebrush.

The jagged mountainside turned into rolling foothills and then flat land with the sea beyond. Morning fog rolled across the waves and blocked the horizon.

But closer to shore, the square white sails of a large vessel sparkled in the sun like clouds of cotton.

The sight of the distant ship excited Mariposa. She wondered what it would be like to be carried on the vessel to places across the seas.

A hint of ocean salt scent mixed with local sage filled Mariposa’s nose. The warm summer air and the hint of a sea breeze brushed her bare arms. She spun in a circle.

Chirps, calls, and warbles from the mountain birds came to her ears.

“I am a part of all this. We are one.” Her thoughts bubbled up from deep within.

In Mariposa’s tradition and history, all living things had personality and character.

Everything alive was someone.

Even the plants and trees, rocks, the sky and air, all were part of the intertwined All Embracing Spirit.

The forests, the sun, and the moon, even the seas and the mountains, were part of a flowing energy and a balance of life.

But now something and someone was changing that balance and that harmony.

Newcomers to the area were building large structures, and persuading, or even sometimes forcing the people who lived on the mountains to move to these new shelters.

The newcomers had their own stories. Their tales and wisdom were so different from Mariposa's people's stories.

One night, Grandmother’s worried face leaned over Mariposa’s at bedtime. She spoke in a whisper to the ten-year-old girl.

“My child, you have the wings of a butterfly who flies over the land and the sea. Someday, these strangers will come for our little group too."

"We may need to go with them. But this is not for you. Be ready to spread your wings, all by yourself, and soar to the life you are meant to live.”

"In my mind, I can see that you are going on a voyage. There is a ship with the name Destiny's Dreams on the stern. There is another storyteller on the vessel who will understand you. She is called Anya, the Storyteller of the Blue Lantern and the ship's Keeper of Wisdom."

"She is intuitive, and she has empathy. You will be able to communicate with her."

"There is also someone known as "Ocean Singer" and another called "Wind Reader." They are instinctive, natural storytellers like you."

“Mariposa, you are a member of generations of ancestors’ storytellers. But there is more to it. Soon you will be called to make a journey, to carry and save the ancestors’ stories from strangers who are moving into our lands."

"We are depending on you. When the time comes, follow the ancestors’ wisdom and do not be afraid of the journey.”

The grey-haired wise woman continued.

"You, dear child, will be the next generation to start our people in a new place, with new hope."

"Someday you will start a family, and you will have a daughter or a son, who can learn the ancestors' tales, just as I have taught you.”

Marposa’s eyes were wide. Something wet overflowed from them and ran down her face.

“There will be a journey, child, but I know you can do it. I will always be with you, even if you cannot see me. You will never be alone.”

Mariposa’s chest and throat tightened.

“You are far more than a ten-year-old little girl. You are becoming a wise woman yourself, even at this age. I believe in you."

"Do not be afraid."

"I know you can do what is needed. There will be a long journey, but you will find your way. Look deep within, and you can always hear my voice, right there with you.”

Mariposa’s heart stirred. The stories from the ancestors drifted up to her conscious mind.

She sensed the wisdom of the animals and plants, the healing secrets of the interconnected whole world.

Unspoken mental images conveyed more than words.

All this rested deep in Mariposa’s mind, where Grandmother’s voice and thoughts had planted them ever since Mariposa was a tiny baby.

Yara the coyote-dog would be with Mariposa on the journey. The pair communicated by hearing each others' thoughts.

Mariposa told herself she would never be alone, as long as Yara was with her.

The two were like one being, with their shapes and selves blending together.

Yara knew Mariposa as mother, friend, pack and family, ever since the young girl found the tiny pup and rescued her.

Each knew every flicker of the other’s eye, every glimmer on the other’s face, and every expression of body language.

The family and villagers raised their eyebrows in astonishment when Mariposa and Yara appeared.

Mariposa made no visible facial or body movement. Yet Yara responded with complex behaviors.

The intuitive messaging was a dance of the mind that mystified everyone except Mariposa and Yara. They moved through each day as if this was natural.

A week ago Mariposa crouched and watched from behind thick sage brush.

She saw the strangers take away her parents, siblings, and extended family. Mariposa stayed hidden and tracked them to the odd shelters and large structures where the group went inside.

Grandmother was with them too, glancing back sometimes with a knowing look. She dipped her head in a nod and let her arms flop in a natural way.

But Grandmother was making secret signs.

She could feel Mariposa’s presence not far away. Grandmother knew Mariposa would understand the hidden signals.

Then with a tilt of the head, another communication from a hand and arm, and some body postures that only Mariposa would recognize, Grandmother sent a message intuitively, and Mariposa sensed and received it in her mind.

Grandmother's message said, “Run. Go. The All Embracing Spirit will be with you. My spirit will be always there too. You will never be alone.” Mariposa’s breath paused in the clear, dry air under the summer sun.

The moment was forever stamped into Mariposa’s mind.

“No, no. I can’t.” Inside her the silent cries echoed. “Grandmother. Grandmother.”

But another sign came from the short, agile woman, whose long grey locks were tied with plant fibers and decorated with fallen feathers. The dusty, earth-toned coverings she wore moved again.

The head slowly turned toward the ocean, miles beyond the mountains, the foothills, and the coastal plains. The body shifted, and one arm flapped toward the sea.

The summer air was growing hot, and midday was approaching. The spicy scent of the wild sage filled Mariposa’s nose. Overhead, the morning mists burned off, and the sharp blue of the summer sky formed a dome.

A hawk’s silhouette, gliding on outstretched wings, floated above and circled. Then it swooped to the west, where the ocean stretched below to the horizon.

Mariposa bowed her head and sent her deepest essence across the distance to Grandmother. Something inside Mariposa sensed Grandmother was still there, with her, and the bond was unbroken.

Then Mariposa turned her dusty feet in the sandals toward the distant sea, glowing in the sun. Yara’s paws carried the grey and brown coydog in the same direction, as if Yara, too, had received an intuitive message from Grandmother.

After all, the grey-haired woman was not just Mariposa’s Grandmother. The woman had adopted Yara as her “Grandpuppy” when the coyote-canine was still a baby.

Now Mariposa and Yara crept through the sagebrush to the paths running down the mountain to the foothills.

The sight of the white sails on the vessel in the bay beckoned to her.

Her heart pounded. Her eyes were wet. Yara’s moist tongue licked Mariposa’s hand. A sense of strength and purpose filled Mariposa.

“We can do it. Come on Yara. I’m here, Grandmother. The stories will be safe with me.”

Inside the large structure built by the strangers, under the shadow of a thick beam, Grandmother smiled.

The trek down the mountain path, through the foothills, and across the coastal plain took several days. Mariposa drank crystal clear water from the springs and streams. She foraged and ate plants, including herbs. At night she snuggled up with Yara, warmed and comforted by the shaggy fur.

Days later, Mariposa and Yara rode in a surfboat out to the ship with the name of "Destiny's Dreams" on the stern.

A storyteller called Anya introduced her to someone known as Wind Reader and to another person called Ocean Singer.

They formed a new storytelling group on the vessel, bonding with their intuitive communication styles.

Anya wrote in her journal, recording Mariposa's tale of her life, her journey, and much of her ancestors' wisdom.

Mariposa missed her Grandmother and her family, but she still felt the bonds were unbroken and she sensed their presence in a way beyond words and images.

"I'm going on the voyage now, Grandmother, just as you predicted. My new friends understand ancestors' stories and I will make a new start. The ancestors' stories are safe with me."

----

Over one hundred and fifty years later, Emily and the other children in the attic of the Mystical Coast Lighthouse sat with wonder on their faces.

"We know the sailor's trunk ended up here, but where did Mariposa's journey begin?" Alex's voice drifted with the dust motes in the attic air.

Behind more stacks of boxes, deep down at the bottom of a box under the others, salt water stained journals waited to be discovered and to tell the children more stories.

But the children were impatient after searching for awhile, and they decided to go outside to play.

"We'll look some more next time," the children said.

A sound like a soft sigh came fom the journals under the boxes stacked in the corner.

Children's voices echoed on the path down the bluff to the sand, the tidepools, and to the ocean waves whispering.

"Let's play Pretend." Emily's voice carries above sounds of the surf.

"I want to be Grandmother, and someone can be Mariposa, Yara the Coyote-Dog, the Wind Reader, and the Ocean Singer."

There was laughter and joy, with children leaping and running in the sand.

Somewhere in the mists beyond the children's world, Mariposa and her coyote-dog, Yara, watched and smiled. The stories were still remembered.

Everything was interconnected, and the All Embracing Spirit flowed like a river through everything, everywhere.