Clay - A Fable

Long ago, in a young forest, there resided a patch of clay by a small stream. Clay was happy, content to listen all day to the singing of the birds and the bubbling of the stream and the jumping of the fish. The world was still new, and Mother Earth would check up on all her creations. Walking through her woods, she spoke to Clay.

“How are you, Clay? Are you happy?”

“Yes. I like listening to the singing of the birds and the bubbling of the stream and the jumping of the fish. I am happy.”

“Good.”

One day, as Clay was watching a duck and her ducklings, it was spotted by a group of humans. They picked Clay up and carried it back to their small village, which was strange and new. Clay could overhear the villagers talking about how it would help them to do many things, like carry water and create shelter and count numbers. Clay was kind, and wanted to help the villagers.

First, the villagers shaped Clay into a large bowl. Walking down to the stream, they filled Clay with water and carried it back to the village. Many days passed, and Clay grew unhappy. Clay did not want to be a bowl. It wanted to be back by the stream listening to the singing of the birds and the bubbling of the stream and the jumping of the fish. Mother Earth came to check on Clay.

“How are you Clay? Are you happy?”

“I am helping the villagers to carry their water.” “I see”

Mother Earth could tell that Clay was unhappy. That night, she called down a heavy rain, destroying the bowl and returning Clay to its original shape.

The next day, the villagers shaped Clay into a wall for one of their huts. Sleeping inside, they were pleased that Clay blocked the wind better than the branches there before. Many days passed, and Clay grew unhappy. Clay did not want to be a wall. It wanted to be back by the stream listening to the singing of the birds and the bubbling of the stream and the jumping of the fish. Mother Earth came to check on Clay.

“How are you Clay? Are you happy?”

“I am helping the villagers block the wind from their huts.” “I see”

Mother Earth could tell that Clay was unhappy. That night, she called down a heavy rain, destroying the wall and returning Clay to its original shape.

The next day, the villagers shaped Clay into a tablet for them to write on. Using a stick, they could count and keep track of how much food they had gathered. Many days passed, and Clay grew unhappy. Clay did not want to be written on. It wanted to be back by the stream listening to the singing of the birds and the bubbling of the stream and the jumping of the fish. Mother Earth came to check on Clay.

“How are you Clay? Are you happy?”

“I am helping the villagers keep track of how much food they have.” “I see”

Mother Earth could tell that Clay was unhappy. That night, she once again called down a heavy rain, destroying the tablet and returning Clay to its original shape.

Over the many months Clay had been in the village, it had made friends with another of Mother Earth’s creations: Fire. Fire could also see that Clay was unhappy, and spoke.

“Clay, you are unhappy. You do not want to be a bowl or a wall or a tablet.”

“No, but I want to be useful and make the villagers happy.”

“You must learn to stand up for yourself. When the villagers misuse me I burn down their huts. You can be helpful and also be who you want to be.”

Clay then asked Mother Earth for help.

“Mother, I do not want to be a bowl or a wall or a tablet, but I still want to make the villagers happy.”

“You must learn to stand up for yourself. Be firm with who you are, and the villagers will appreciate you all the same.”

This gave Clay an idea. When the villagers were asleep, Clay rolled into a ball and threw itself into Fire. Sitting in the flames, Clay could feel itself becoming solid. No more will the villagers shape and mold Clay as they saw fit. Once Clay was firm, it rolled back down to the stream.

Morning came, and the villagers were disappointed to see that Clay was gone. They went down to the stream and found Clay, hard as a rock, resting by the water. An old man spoke.

“Now I have somewhere to sit while I do my fishing!”

Long ago, in a young forest, there resided a hard ball of clay by a small stream. Clay was happy, content to listen all day to the singing of the birds and the bubbling of the stream and the jumping of the fish. The world was still new, and Mother Earth would check up on all her creations. Walking through her woods, she spoke to Clay.

“How are you, Clay? Are you happy?”

“Yes. I like listening to the singing of the birds and the bubbling of the stream and the jumping of the fish. I like helping the villagers to fish. I am happy.”

“Good.”

By Manny LaCarrubba