Mind & Spirit
Learning Through Metaphors
By Sarah Lee
The Waterfall
G
ushing towards its end, the river pushes with a force like ten thousand angry soldiers charging with swords and shields. Every
millisecond carries the boy in a boat closer to the edge, the dreadful drop that awaits –- a waterfall. The sound of water crashing onto
rocks –- or sand, or caves, or spikes, or river, or whatever is down there –- resounds in the air, like constant thunder. There is a
fearsome irony to the whole picture. In the midst of all the pushing, gushing, crashing, and thundering, nature is quiet. It is as though
the birds breathe the sound of the waterfall, going about their day searching for worms and tweeting as they fly from tree to tree. As
the boat tosses and turns in the relentless current, the boy in it sits –- even reclines –- patiently. “He’ll catch me,” says the boy. He
looks up at the overhanging trees, admiring the jewels of sunshine that peek through the leaves. “I wonder where He’ll place me
next,” says the boy.
The Corridor
T
all, gigantic walls border the corridor, lined with one door after another as far as one could see. Each door is unique, some plain and
wooden, others decorated with flowers and vintage colors. Some doors are closed, others are opened. In this corridor, there is no
ceiling. Wide open, the place is exposed to the warm sunlight and the blue sky, the fresh air and breeze from outside. The boy strolls
through the corridor, whistling as he looks for the next door to enter. So many to choose from! “Let me go through this door.” he
says, as he walks toward an open door. The door closes. “Okay, then which?” he asks. Two doors fling open. “Which?” the boy asks
again. He peeks into both, and sees that one door leads to a corridor with a closed roof, dark, making a sharp contrast to the light he
stands in. He immediately closes the door and walks through the other. It is bright. Through this door is another corridor, with
another set of doors. As he strolls and admires the sky above, he sees three open doors. Each door leads to a bright corridor with no
ceiling. He stands pondering and waiting for the Guide to speak. No voice is heard, so the boy carefully considers the doors. “This
one is my favorite color. I’ll go in this one.” says the boy, as he walks in. He whistles and smiles as he strolls through the corridor,
excited for a new adventure, and frankly, distracted by the beauty above.
The Dark
V
oid of any color, not even a hue of light, the blinding night seems to last forever. There is howling, hooting, and
roaring that echo from a distance. Left and right, rustling dry leaves seem to whisper among themselves. In the
midst of this menacing dark, there is a streak of light, piercing the sky and reaching a very small portion of the
ground where the boy stands. The boy can only see his feet, and nothing else. It is as though the whole world is
enclosed around him, waiting in evil anticipation for him to fall, or be eaten by a wild creature of some sort. Nothing is visible, except
for his feet, and the ground where he will place his next step. Even his next steps are sometimes unclear. The boy presently stands, not
knowing where he is nor where he is going. But the light moves. He steps. The light moves again. A creature screeches from above.
There is something up there. The light is there. He steps. He hears harsh currents crashing into rocks, and echoes of growling from
below. The light moves. He steps. But the light stops. “Step,” says the voice from above. “But I can’t see what’s there! It could be the
edge of a cliff, for all I know.” says the boy. “Step,” the voice says again. So the boy steps. The light shines on his feet, and there he is,
standing on solid ground.
23