In The Arms of Your Significant Being: Two Rivers

“Are you familiar with the recurring debate about Cinderella?” she asked poking around the small crystal bowl containing mixed nuts.

I didn’t know anything about any debate about Cinderella, much less a recurring one.

“No I’m not.” I answered.

“The debate centers around what would have happened if Cinderella’s carriage never arrived to pick her up at the ball before midnight. Without the magic spell, she would be left alone outside the palace gates in her tattered dress with one glass slipper.”

“What do you thing would have happened?”

I had no clue. So I took a shot, “Well, she’d be stranded and the Prince would have eventually run up to her with the other glass slipper. He’d recognize her and viola, end of story and they live happily ever after.”

Actually I liked this version. It eliminated the need for the Prince to run around town to find Cindy, much less come face to face with hundreds of barefooted matrons with bad feet. Besides, I always thought there was something fishy about this story. Would he not recognize her? After all she was a rather striking beauty and he’d already fallen hopelessly in love with her. Why would he have to make sure the slipper fit? It smelled of bourgeois nonsense.

As I finished my response I noticed her studying me with furrowed eyebrows--as if trying to conclude if I were being funny, irreverent, obnoxious, lame, or a combination of all four—with emphasis on the latter two.

After a few seconds, she said, “Well that’s a pretty typical male response, but ok, so here’s the argument: based on what you just said, was the fairy godmother making things too complicated with the whole ‘midnight’ deal? And in doing so, did she introduce unnecessary and reckless risk and obstacles for the two young lovers to consummate their love? You can see how there’s this big division of thought between the traditionalists and the contrarians.”

“Amazing.” I remarked completely astounded.

“You mean because you never thought about the story in this particular way?”

“No, that people would actually bother pondering about something so silly,” I replied.

She selected the lone Brazil nut out of the dish and fished it between her fingers. “I guess you’re right. I made up the whole story just now anyway,” she said she smiled shyly. “It is silly isn’t it? It’s about as silly this whole Brazilian nut thing I have.”

Puzzled I asked, “I thought you sought out Brazil nuts because you favor them over the other nuts.”

“Not especially. While I do like them, I find that I have this inclination toward it as it’s such an unpopular nut. Maybe unconsciously I’m hoping that I’ll meet someone with a similar fondness and it’ll be what he sees special in me. Now that’s really silly isn’t it?” she added. She smiled nervously looking down at her hands, examining the nut.

We’re sitting in the Oak Room having a drink. It’s a midweek evening and the place is fairly quiet. We’re sitting at my favorite table in the far left corner next to the huge windows overlooking Central Park. I’m due to leave New York in two weeks and in the process of bidding farewell to my favorite spots in the City. And I suppose if there were anyplace appropriate to have this evening’s conversation, this would be the place.

“Now you tell me a story,” she bantered.

I told her I didn’t know any stories, nor did I have an affinity for any particular nut. But she was relentless and I finally gave in.

“Have you heard of the tale of two rivers?” I asked.

“During the Age of Enlightenment, there was a Princess who as a young girl befriended the son of a commoner and the two became best of friends and inevitably fell in love.”

“As they lived in a caste society, their backgrounds would never allow for them to be together, but the young man was nevertheless deeply in love with her. Tragically one day the Princess was taken ill with a deadly ailment—one, which there was no known cure. Desperate to save his love, the commoner sought out the wisdom of a sage.

“The young man was told to go where two rivers met and should he find it, it was said that one would be whispered the secrets of the universe. And surely it would contain a cure to save his loved one. It was early September when he set out on his journey and fall was just awakening. The mornings were crisp and bright. The wind was just a bit stronger on the south side of the Sea of Okhotsk. After days of traveling, he found a small stream and followed it until he came to a place where the wind blew lightly amongst the fallen leaves and danced with the bright fall sunlight. As he reveled in the beauty—it felt as if the world was wishing to share with him, all the secrets of the universe. He had arrived. But where was the second river? Looking closely he located the second river but noticed that as close as it came to joining the first, the rivers never quite met.

“Undeterred, he outstretched his arms as he grabbed hold of the two rivers. Muscles tearing to shreds, he pulled the two forceful streams of water as they formed into one gentle flow of nature. As the secrets of the universe unfolded onto him, the Princess stirred, slowing gaining conscious. Arms torn, the young man kneeled to where the light danced and knew instinctively that the only knowledge he needed was his realization of his undying love for her. He felt the wind just a touch stronger. The sky slightly bluer. And the sun brighter and warmer than he had ever felt. As he felt his life slowly leave him, a sense of comfort came across him as he sensed being embraced in the arms of his significant being.”

As I finished the story, I noticed she had stopped fidgeting with the Brazil nut and it was now clutched in her hand.

I asked, “So what do you think of the story? Have you heard it before?”

“No,” she replied. “Was it a childhood story?”

“Actually no,” I replied. “While it’s based on some childhood tales, I just made it up as I was telling the story.”

I suddenly felt self-conscious and foolish. Something had come over me as I started telling the story--it took hold of me and left a feeling of longing over me.

A moment of awkward silence passed and I looked off into the park and remarked, as if it was my turn to admit, “Now that was a pretty silly story.”

“Yes.” she replied, adjusting her gaze from my general direction downward to her hand. She opened her hand revealing in her palm the Brazil nut she had been holding and returned it to the crystal bowl.

“Pretty silly.”

Outside the park light shone downward and in the light wind of the about to turn autumn evening, leaves, dusted with a touch of foliage, danced lightly.


--

The Sea of Okhotsk borders Hokkaido, the northern most island of Japan, Kamchatka and Sakalin both properties of Russia. To the west are the Kuril Islands—56 islands originally settled by the Ainu, the indigenous tribal race of northern Japan. Kuril, which derives from the Ainu [the indigenous tribal race of northern Japan] word for ‘man’ has a surprising amount of foliage on the islands closer to Japan—and the wind, more gentle and warmer in the fall. The Ainu, have long held these islands as sacred land. Central and most important to their pagan tales, is an island where it is said that two ancient streams meet to form a river that empties into the strait. Early fall brings a short cycle of sun bathed haven. The leaves, singed with autumn foliage and the gentle wind are awoken and dance uplifted in a circular fashion intermingling with the light. The Ainu have long claimed that this is the spirit of nature preparing for the long hard winter ahead. There are some however, that maintain it is the spirit of those who have been united with their true love and in merriment, are embracing. Whichever the case may be, both maintain it is a place where nature takes all of her wonderments and confides its secrets to you.