Her wayward cub never listened to mystic counsel. He thought himself more
clever, more surefooted and never viewed his reflection in the lake. Early
mornings when dawn spread her wings over the forest, lioness mother slammed
the arrogant cub against tree trunks to offer him a wake-up call. The young
cub never heeded her warnings and continued to stray into the dark, perilous
forest to play with monkeys, lizards; even reptiles. He ignored the
suffering she endured to protect him. As lioness mother grew older, her
magnificent coat lost it’s luster; her gentle paws roamed no more. As she
grew weaker still, even mother earth was saddened by the loss of her benign
step. Early one midsummer morning he nestled his head within the curve of
her warm underbelly, as was his custom to wait for mother to welcome a new
day. However, this morning her roar was silence and the beat of her heart no
more. The young lion was beside himself. He reflected on his years of bad
behavior; unreceptive to her mighty roar. He even tried slamming himself
against tree trunks but that didn’t help; instead, he got a headache. His
heart was so grief stricken, he could not lean on his brothers and sisters.
They had become strangers. That is when the old lion sought refuge in the
wooded depths. Many years later, a great he-lion stumbled across the lost
one. He looked deep into the thicket at what appeared to be a mole curled up
into a ball entangled in clinging vines. He cocked his head to one side and
inquired, “Have you gazed into the lake today?” Filled with remorse, he
couldn’t open his eyes but whispered to the stranger, “I have never ventured
to the lake as instructed by mother.” The he-lion replied softly, “Well
then, time to get up. Let us proceed to the lake and reflect.”
Ever so gently, he disentangled him from the clinging vines and briars. The
he-lion’s tone had a calming affect on him for there was a command in his
roar reminiscent of lioness mother. He slowly stood up and dutifully
followed. When they reached their destination, he looked at his reflection
long and hard. What he saw in the lake startled him: his childhood was gone,
rather, his body was that of an old raggedy lion whose coat had no sheen and
the tuft under his chin knotted and white. Worse still, his steady flow of
tears had carved deep ravines below his eyes where the fur had washed away.
He had grown old without knowing it. Where had his life gone? He began to
remember the early years when he strutted about thinking himself immortal.
Suddenly the old lion was overwhelmed, not so much for what he saw but for
the unseen; not so much for what he thought he knew, but for what he didn’t
know. After this disconcerting interlude he began trotting behind the
he-lion as he always did with mother. One day strange things began to
unfold. Spontaneous awakenings were gifted him … like a universe of
fireflies playing tiddle de winks. He began to view the monkey world as a
strange land, himself a stranger in it, when a wonderful thing happened. The
old lion found a treasure that lioness mother had hidden long ago for him to
discover at just the right time: the yearning seed. His old fun-loving ways
now replaced by a longing to reside in the Great Lion consciousness. This
was no small feat because the great he-lion brooked no nonsense, especially
when he stepped on land mines. He realized the he-lion had simply picked up
where lioness mother left off. The old lion began to wonder what would be
left of him when slammed against tree trunks once again. However, the
he-lion had a different, albeit more subtle, way to drive home his point. He
exposed the old lions flaws in the mirror of his heart thereby raising the
stakes each time a gauntlet was thrown to the ground; an ancient teaching
method which few stayed around long enough to benefit. Many moons witnessed
the old lion listening to the sounds of early morning when he slow-walked to
the lake each day. Lioness mother had taught him to listen. After so many
years, he finally remembered her counsel:
“Dear heart please listen. If you can do this, you’ll be less of a stranger
to yourself.”
Some mornings the old lion can hear raindrops turn into
icicles and blades of grass bow their heads to the Great Lion Consciousness.
© 2020 Jennifer Brookins