She walked the world alone for many years, with no companions beyond her own thoughts. She moved through the worlds of people, but always as an outsider, looking in. She could blend in with the people she met well enough, but never felt a sense of belonging, of understanding. And so she continued to walk, through jungles, through forests, through prairies and along coasts, always by herself.
One day, as she wound her way between towering trees, she came across a clearing, where a snake and an eagle were locked in fierce combat. They seemed well matched, and for a while, she just watched them. The eagle would swoop down from high above, talons flashing, but would have to dart away as the snake rose to strike back.
Finally, she spoke to them, for she was curious. “Why do you fight so?”
The eagle dropped from its flight, and the snake forgot to lunge. Both turned their gleaming eyes on her, but she stood her ground.
“Why do we fight?” the eagle whistled at her.
“We have always fought,” hissed the snake.
“It is our way,” they said in unison.
“But why? What could have started such a battle?” she asked, considering the creatures before her.
The eagle and the snake exchanged a glance, before the snake hissed again:
“We have been fighting over a long-held debate. I argue,” it hissed smugly, “that it is far better to be connected to the Earth, to feel its vibrations, to understand each tree, each rock, each blade of grass, and to make a study of it. And I argue, that it is far better to embrace the tangible world, to revel in the touches, the textures, the experiences of skin and bone and muscle.”
“And I argue,” the eagle countered archly, “that it is better to soar high above the world, to understand the shapes of things, to be at a distance and watch the larger workings of the world than to study the minutiae. And I argue, that it is better to engage with the world with a cool head, to observe with reason and calculation, to live in the mind. Which,” it trilled at the snake, “is clearly the superior way to interact with the world.”
The snake hissed unintelligibly, looking ready to attack yet again.
“But,” she asked, bringing their attention back to her, “where did you get such ideas?”
“We have always had them,” the snake replied, and she could have sworn that it shrugged.
“You can’t fight forever, can you?” she asked, concern etched on her face.
“I have a thought,” the eagle said. “You seem like a reasonable human. If there ever were such a thing.”
The snake seemed to laugh at her. “Yes, indeed. You seem like a person who appreciates the things of the world.”
They spoke again in unison. “You shall decide.”
She looked startled, and took a small step back
“What?”
“You decide,” the snake said.
“Which one of us is right,” the eagle finished.
They watched her expectantly, but she remained silent.
“Come now,” the snake sighed impatiently. “You have heard our arguments. You must choose who is right, or I fear we will be stuck in this fight forever.”
The eagle nodded, watching her. Finally, she spoke, and her words were slow and considered.
“You,” she said, speaking to the eagle, “believe that it is better to take an overarching approach to the world, that we should study the general patterns instead of the details. You think it is better to live rationally, to live with logic over passion.”
The eagle bowed its head in approval.
“And you,” she said, turning to the snake, “believe that it is better to engage with the world on a detailed level, to feel and experience everything closely. You think it is better to live an emotional, passionate life.”
“Yes,” the snake hissed.
She watched them watch her, a look of mild consternation on her face.
“Well, I think it seems very obvious who is right.”
The snake rose high, swishing its tail, while the eagle ruffled its feathers, spreading them wide.
“You are both right.”
The two creatures deflated, and she almost laughed at the stunned expression in their eyes.
“What?” the eagle screeched.
“Impossible,” spat the snake.
“But it is true,” she protested. “Both of you are right, and both of you are needed to clearly see the world.”
They looked at her, eyes narrowed, and she continued. “It’s all about balance, isn’t it? It’s all about knowing when you need to see the big picture, and when you need to examine the details. It’s about being logical, but also compassionate, about enjoying both lofty thoughts and strong emotions. To make wise choices, both of you are needed.”
“Hmm,” they murmured, and thought on her words.
“Your argument is compelling,” the eagle conceded.
“I can feel where you are coming from,” the snake agreed.
“Well, then, it seems your fight is over,” she replied.
The snake and the eagle shared another glance, then looked back at her.
“But,” the eagle began.
“What are we to do now?” the snake continued.
“We have been battling for as long as we can remember,” added the eagle.
“I worry we might fall back into old habit,” the snake admitted, and the eagle nodded its agreement.
“Well,” she said, tentatively. “You could come with me.”
“Where are you going?” the snake inquired.
“I don’t know, really,” she said, softly.
“I will go with you,” the eagle announced. “I would like to see more of the world, and see if the balance you speak of is really possible.”
“I will go with you,” the snake proclaimed. “For I, too, would like to see this balance.”
“In my experience,” she admitted, “I don’t see much of the balance I hope to see in the world. I see more fighting like yours than harmony.”
“Then we will seek it out, and where we find discord, we will work to bring balance into the world,” the snake hissed gently.
“We will be teachers, the three of us, speaking to the minds and hearts of the world to bring peace,” the eagle whistled.
She smiled, glad to have company on her travels. As they moved through the forest together, she could hear them whispering to each other.
“Maybe,” hissed the snake, “you could take me gently in your talons, and fly me high above the world, so I may see it as you do.”
“I would be honored,” the eagle chirped, “if you would show me the beauty of the grass, of bark and roots, and the details of the Earth.”
She walked the world, no longer alone.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020