BEHIND THE WATERFALL

     IT WAS A WARM DAY and we were swimming in the pool of a river; a secluded and beautiful place it was far along the rough track of a forest wilderness. Tall trees and bushes were surrounding it, and upstream at the head of the pool a high waterfall was thundering into it. Downstream at the pool’s other end were low smooth rocks over which the river either thinly poured, or tumbled as it continued its hundred mile journey down to the sea. Sunshine filtering through the overhanging trees was sparkling on the ruffled surface of the water and catching the spray mist above us in rainbow halos of hazy gold. Joyful at the foot of the falls, we were laughing and playing in the white churning water; though mostly we were hanging on to the boulders at its edge that we might not be swept away.

    When we tired of playing, we swam back to sit on a narrow shelf of rocks at the edge of the pool, up to our waists in the water. It was wonderful spot to rest and absorb the glorious beauty of this magical place. We sat in silence happily gazing at it all. But after awhile, full to bursting with something new I began to tell him the story of the waterfall. When I came to the ‘upside down’ bit, and paused, I caught him staring at me. I think he must have seen the look of yet another wild idea about to hatch, because he suddenly grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap, and gave me a hug.

    ‘Oh, you darling wee lassie, my own dear Stargirl, you really are back-to-front! You can turn winter’s sleet to summer sunshine; and the dark of night, to the light of the noon. You can dip your cup into the darkest depths of gloom, and bring out bursts of light, in pure delight. You think you are crazy. And say you don’t know anything. Yet seeing, ‘nothing’ you seem to see it all! And now whatever will you do, you daft wee See-Sprite?’

     ‘Oh, just hide a treasure; you silly wee poet laddie! Come on! We’re going to hide a treasure chest!’

    ‘Hide one? Don’t you mean find one?’ he said, in mock surprise.

    ‘People generally look for them, don’t they? Isn’t that the way of things?’

    ‘Well, yes! But how can you find one unless first one is hidden?’ I laughed, jumped off his lap and scrambled out of the water. I ran to our picnic spot under a tree and from underneath the tartan rug there pulled out my surprise; a small box with a red lid.

    ‘There!’ I said, lifting it up so he could see, ‘A treasure chest to hide! Oh, come on! Let’s go!’

    ‘Treasure…? Why, it looks to me, more like a plastic food storage container!’ he said, standing beside me now; grinning and dripping water everywhere. ‘What you got in it then, young lassie? Are you going to hide cookies and chocolates for the fairies? Your ‘wee faithies?’’ he laughed as he looked at me. ‘Anyway, it’ll go rotten before anyone finds it! Here, let’s eat it now!’ he said, more practically; and he un-clicked the lid, looked inside. He was very surprised at what he saw. ‘What we got here, then?’ he muttered as he rummaged through the strange contents. ‘Hum, this isn’t too edible. A pile of your tiny handmade booklets, along with a thimble and an acorn, on a string! Oh, and the things a magpie would cache! Mm, some strange looking coins; and pretty – but, um, cheap looking necklaces and shiny rings. Well, I guess it really is a treasure chest; of a sort, then. Oh, you crazy girl, whatever are you up to now?’

    ‘Come and see!’ I said, as I grabbed the box out of his hands, snapped it shut, and tore off upstream along the edge of the pool.

    Five minutes later we were both standing behind the waterfall, and soaking wet again. We had found a way through the bushes and over the huge boulders to a cave at the back of the roaring water; and there, after a bit of poking around, I found in the gloom the perfect place to hide the treasure.

    ‘You really are a nutcase, Stargirl!’ he said, as he pulled me towards him, ‘But, do you know, I think it only makes me like you more! But, hey now, don’t you go getting any more crazy ideas!’ he added, looking into my twinkling eyes. ‘Hum, I think I may have one or two of my own.’ and he bent down; and twice picked up something from the ground where we stood.

    ‘Here, shut your eyes,’ he said, ‘and give me your hand.’ I did as he asked, and he put something into the palm of my hand and closed my fingers over it. And there and then behind the veil of the waterfall he kissed me while all around the angels sang and took us in, and all the world went by in a whirl of white water. Knowing we may never be able to meet again – like the meeting of stars in an alignment coming  only once in a lifetime – the kiss was sweet, as befitting friends, but we lingered long not ever wanting to leave this magical place. Perhaps, in a way, we never did and something of us remains there to this day.

    ‘Now give me that hand again,’ he said, ‘but keep it closed!’ and gently he pushed me from him. We held out our closed hands toward one another, and then opened them simultaneously. ‘See!’ he said, as we both looked into the palms of our left hands, ‘This is our ‘kiss!’ Now we may keep it forever!’ There it was, a symbol of our beautiful friendship: two small black stones: two kindred spirits in time without end made one.

    Tired but excited after their long trek a small group of trampers discovered the old and unofficial track through the boulders along the edge of the river pool leading to the waterfall. Two of them had pushed through the overhanging bushes and discovered the way to get into the cave behind the waterfall; they seemed not to mind getting wet. Once they were well into the cave one of them brought out a flashlight and started to explore.

    He nearly missed finding it. Debris had long fallen in on the small niche in the rock wall and had all but buried it. In the beam of his torch he caught the glint of something red. He brushed away the loose earth and pebbles, and uncovered a plastic container with a red lid. He called to his friend; and in the natural light near the mouth of the cave they both examined its unusual contents. On the top of a small pile of objects inside was an open note written on a scrap of blue card. It read simply:

    ‘Take whatever you like from me.’

    There was a pause in time. As a space had opened up within him as he remembered something and perceived the glory within the words. While looking through the items a strange sensitivity enveloped him, and he touched the things in it more tenderly.

    On top of some miniscule booklets was, a silver thimble and an acorn still in its cup, both strung on a thin green ribbon; something tugged at boyhood memories as he looked at them. At the back of his mind was the remembrance of a story; of a boy who had never wanted to grow up. Carefully he returned them to the box and looked through the rest of the ‘treasure.’ It was the strange little bundle of tiny handwritten booklets which interested him. There were seven in all. When he came to the last he opened it: its title piercingly relevant: ‘The Story Behind the Waterfall.’ There seemed to be no author; no name or address was given anywhere in the box. Written on the first page of the booklet, in decorated capital letters, was just one sentence – ‘‘Eureka! YOU ARE AT THE END OF THE RAINBOW!’ After that a kind of letter followed and beyond that a blank page…and then what looked like a story. He read the letter; and in a hidden sense the person who had written it.

    ‘To the Finder—to you, who are loved. Here you stand gazing at the transcendence of water—falling—in the place where rainbows have their end, and where they live and dream their dreams in the flying spray. You were drawn here. And you wanted to go as close as you could. As you got near, you discovered the way over the slippery rocks and in through the bushes into this secret cave, where you now stand hidden behind the veil of the waterfall—its bridal mystery about to be revealed to you. You sense something; were you here before? You look around. Then searching you found this thing of nought, this foolish thing; this small hidden chest.

    You opened it. Inside is this strange little book you hold; it’s for you: it tells you the story behind the waterfall. Now you will know what it means and why you are here. Take it with you. Share the story with others. Be a joyous fall of water yourself, as you come to know how truly you are loved and infinitely understood in all gentleness ; there’s no fear in love . . .’

    The letter ended here; but as though the writer had not finished it. He closed the little book. He held it and felt the surface of its cover. He turned it over in his hands awhile staring at it. It was beautifully made. ‘There is no fear in love…perfect love casts out fear.’ He repeated the ending phrase within himself, and added the missing words, which he did not know he knew and which came from a distant past. Unknowingly, he waited, but no shallow glibness came to annul that fleeting surge through his brain that had come as he had read, and now again as he spoke the words aloud: the light had not been rejected by his inner being.

  He opened up the book again, further opened in himself, and he turned the pages till he came to the story…and he began to read…and with new clarity…