One winged angel
Jorge Parada
te ibro, s E n l alo u es reg o o n un stin es l de de
, te libro s E n u galo s e re o no un estin es el d d
s notk. i s i h T a boo just is a gift This destiny fromor you f
Author Jorge Parada Artistic Director Jorge Parada Illustration, cover and inside Patricia Ballesteros Amat Translator María Bach
Pintor Sorolla 22 3A 46002 – Valencia – Spain invitrodesign.com
I.S.B.N. 978-84-941792-8-0
One winged angel Jorge Parada
Imagine the soul as if it was a beautiful bird and our body, its cage. Imagine a beautiful bird inside a cage and he cannot sing. He couldn´t feel himself to be a greater prisoner!
The author.
Chapter 1.
Birth
W
henever I look at the belly of a pregnant mother, I can grasp the meaning of existence.
For in life there is life bearing itself yet another life, streaming forth like a cord, a continuation of ourselves, spiraling into eternity. Lying inside the warmth of my heart, I would imagine cities and amusement parks. It was then, thinking of playing when I thought of flying my kite....and suddenly there was a belly and then there was a sky and sun, sun what shone so brilliantly...! Whenever there’s a brilliant sun the clouds are beautiful. Playing outside those cities and parks, I noticed that there were clouds in the sky which captured my imagination. When one looks at the sky the clouds have all kinds of shapes, the kind of shapes which your imagination can turn into anything.
12
The why and wherefore of these clouds is the why and wherefore of this story. As a mother to be, she felt that her belly was made of very white, downy, translucent clouds, making her whole body lighter. Sometimes in her dreams, she would be afraid that her belly might float away from her, levitating like the balloons that children play with in the park. Finally, it was time for that being to be let out. A being who from now on would be there with everyone. His arrival was like opening the windows of a house for the light to enter, and play and shine its truth into every corner where the dark that is brought on by emptiness allows no thing; to be seen. His parents needed him and he wanted to grow up joyfully with the magic power of love.
13
Chapter 2.
From strange to departure
I
t was on that morning when his parents noticed a physical rarity on the child’s body. On the right
side of his back there was a prominent hump covered by very fine gray down. Concerned as to how this might affect their son’s life, they consulted all kinds of doctors and specialists. None of them, however, could explain, diagnose, suggest treatment or least of all, foresee its evolution. There is no worse anguish for a parent than to have to wait for a completly unpredictable development. Therefore, in their deepest love they sheltered him shrouding their resignation, and the Lord of Time who knows not of this own existence, quickened his pace. In a very short time, that gray hump had become a dazzling wing! It was very difficult to cope with such uncertainties, as hard as tucking the child in, making him comfortable,
16
carrying him around and so many other details. Their hope for another hump on the other side gradually vanished like the little clouds that the wind blows away. One day this little boy, the “ angel of the clear smile” for so he was called, heard the winds blow nearby. He noticed that those winds always pushed his clouds in one direction; to The Garden of Ea -where all the rivers join the ocean and the ocean meets the sky. One night as he slept, the sky in his dreams pointed out a path for him to travel on. Could it possibly be time to leave? And it was on that spring afternoon that he bade farewell to all his loving friends. His mother felt that “this time her little balloon would reach his highest cloud”, and the father resigned himself to
17
the departure and trusted with all his heart in a time to come which might bring his beloved son his sense of completeness. Without a tear and with a smile on his face, the boy left his hometown, a pilgrim on a chosen path, seeking his own Garden of Ea -where all the rivers join the ocean and the ocean meets the sky. Only a pebble in his boot would deter him for a few moments; he courage and greatness of his precious being upheld him, as if his effort were meant to last throughout eternity.
18
Chapter 3.
An old man with no hope
A
fter a great deal of traveling, Angel arrived at a village where he came upon an old man with
only one leg. He cheerfully greeted him courteously. “How are you doing, sir?” Somewhat reluctant and ironically the old man answered: “Very well, but not very happy; like yourself perhaps...” Not understanding very well, Angel asked, Why do you say that?” The old man smiled as he leaned on his wooden leg, and lowered his gaze: “I see one of your wings is missing.” As lightly as if someone had tried to knock him down
22
with a feather, Angel replied: “That should not be a problem. I am on my way to The Garden of Ea, where all the rivers stream into the ocean and the ocean meets the sky, and where I am sure to come upon it.” Amid mocking peals of laughter and a great show of gestures, the reply was: “You can never recover anything that is incomplete. I lost my leg once in an accident under a heavy cartwheel and even if I traveled to the moon I doubt that I would find it.” With an expression of utter confidence, Angel stressed: “I didn’t lose my wing, I never had it.” To this the old man harshly inquired: “How can you only have one part without having ever lost the other?. Like only one eye, one arm,
23
or those who are lame... do you know what an angel with a missing wing is called?” Angel stared hard at the aged countenance, as if he wanted to see into those eyes that had become so worn out from looking at the wrong side of things; “No, I don’t know how a child with one wing too many is called.” Vexed, wanting the conversation to end, the old man replied: “To know that, you will have to know what you are.” His mocking laughter still rang out as he went away from Angel saying: “Go on to The Garden of Ea. That’s where my leg was lost.” Although somewhat disheartened by this encounter
24
and with a slightly bitter aftertaste, Angel continued his journey undaunted. The road to travel on was hard and it was only by zeal that his mind could find a reason to justify the existence of an aged being whose life no longer held even a glimmer of hope.
Chapter 4.
The child
S
till on the path, unflagging, he saw from afar a second village, where to his delighted surprise he
came upon a boy close to his own age. Dazzled by the beauty and the radiance of Angel’s white wing, the boy asked: “Would you let me touch it gently?” Angel outstretched his wing which brushed lightly against the boy’s hand as if wanting to touch those small fingers. Entranced by this wonderful sensation, the boy remarked: “It’s so soft! Softer than the feathers of my uncle’s pheasant!” Humbly, Angel just said: “I don’t think so; they’re probably very much the same.”
28
Still mystified by the encounter, the boy declared, “I would give anything to have a wing like yours.” “What would you do with one like it?” Looking at the sky, the boy stated, “I would probably just fly all the time and visit faraway places and float over the clouds.” Motionless, Angel said, “I can’t fly; if I had my other wing I probably could.” Intently, then, “If you can’t fly with one wing, then of what use is such a beautiful wing to you?”
A little sadly perhaps, Angel shrugged, “I don’t know.” And to assuage the situation the boy said: “Don’t be sad, I’ve got an eye that won’t cry.” Angel was intrigued. In a voice that was full of a gentleness, gingerly, so as not to cause him any pain by meddling, he said. “Tell me about this eye of yours that cannot cry.” Breathing hard, the child replied: “Whenever I go through a time of sorrow, if I cry, only my right eye does. I always ask older people to tell me sad stories for me to be able to cry, but I have never been able to with this eye. If I were like you and had one wing alone, and could not
30
fly... I always could cry with this eye also out of sadness!” Undisturbed, Angel replied, “I have never cried, and I am not sad because I am traveling to The Garden of Ea to find my other wing. If you want to join me you will probably find the tears for this eye of yours.” The other, gratefully, inquired, “Won’t my company bother you?” Angel smiled and took the boy by his hand as he continued on his way.
31
Chapter 5.
The witch
U
pon reaching the third village they came upon a very ugly woman, perhaps even too ugly to
be true or even uglier. Angel addressed her politely as he introduced his friend, explaining. “We are on our way to The Garden of Ea, I, to find my wing and he to find his tears.” Devoid of all expression, she snatched Angel’s hand and whispered into his ear: “If you wanted to, I could change the boy into your left wing, but one of his eyes cannot cry, so your wing might not be able to fly”. Angel drew away from her at once, not understanding her attitude and sharply replied: “I would not change my friend for a wing even if I were able to fly with it!”
34
Like a wild beast that has lost its prey, the woman whirled around to the other boy, whispering: “If you want to, I can turn your friend into tears for your eye, but as he only has one wing, chose tears might not let you see when you cry”. He threw her aside in disgust: “Angel is my friend, and the only hope of finding my tears. I would not have him changed even if my tears allowed me to see”. And the woman who was really a witch disappeared in a flash.
36
Chapter 6.
Living puppets
T
he two boys’ hands locked in a firm clasp as if to seal a fraternal pact.
They continued on their journey pausing every now and then for a moment’s rest and to drink some water under the shelter of a shady tree, until they came upon the fourth village. They wandered all over if and were perplexed to find no one, Angel mused. “Where could they all be?” The boy was bewildered: “Perhaps they’ve gone to Ea”. Drawing from the experience gathered throughout his travels, Angel’s reply to his friend was, “Ea is not a place within everybody’s reach. It is different and not easy to find. To get there, you must possess great strength of will together with a spiritual purpose that will provide you with the
40
guidance for that search”. “I needed you to find out about Ea. How will others be able to know?” “Maybe it takes feeling strange...” The boy: “Do you mean very sad?” “No. Sadness is probably only feeling devoid of something precious to us. But if we have not actually lost it, then the feeling may be too deep for us to understand what we really feel”. Understanding, the boy agreed: “Then I think my problem is sadness. When it rains my eye hurts from trying so hard to imitate the raindrops. And whenever a raindrop does enter my eye, it breathes like the plants and the trees and the flowers do under the touch of the
41
raindrop’s cool water. I can feel my eye missing the wetness of that little drop inside my chest, tearing my chest apart to let the sadness out.” In resignation, “No, not all of it.” They were suddenly surprised to see a brightly lit signpost that garishly announced a live puppet show in the town’s main theater. They quickened their steps and came upon a lot of people lining up to buy their tickets. ( Possibly all of the townsfolk.) The last one in the queue was a father who said with courtesy and respect: “Good afternoon.” The man looked at him and believed that he would no longer be the last in line. He pointed upwards to the
42
little girl who cried out: “Hallo! I’m Rosemary. Look how tall I am.” The girl, who felt that she was on top of the world’s highest mountain and under the protection of her father’s shoulders pointed out with her little finger, the one we use to point at things, “Who is that?” With a smile Angel replied: “That’s my friend; he’s coming with me to the Garden of Ea.” The man pretended that he was uninterested, “That’s far? I prefer
waiting for the performance. It’s sure to be more fun”. Angel’s friend was amazed at all this. “It must be a wonderful show to attract all these people”. The father cast his eyes downwards and with some diffidence responded, “We don’t actually know. It’s the first time it has come to town”. The two travellers felt their confusion increase; “Have you been waiting very long?” Then the man feared that somewhere within that already marred little body further damage might take place: “For many years; but some people have been here
44
longer. I am the last one as it took such a long time for me to make up my mind. But I finally did and am happy about it as I will bring my little girl immense joy and lessen her suffering. She is not a normal child in the sense that she has not been able to walk since birth, and is happy to wait on my shoulders”. Ready and willing to be of assistance in whichever way he could, Angel’s friend invited them to join them on the path they had set out on. The girl would probably be cured in the Garden of Ea and avoid the long wait. The man was doubtful but he replied gratefully, “I was the last in deciding to join this line. I cannot let this chance go and waste any more time by leaving. I am sure that this is the great show I am waiting for”.
45
Chapter 7
The teacher
T
hey said goodbye and kept from looking back so that the pain caused to them by such a sorry
sight would not be so great. While they hurried, Angel remarked, “I felt we were the only ones who were really seeing the show. Fortunately, The Garden of Ea really does exist”. Taken by the girl, the other boy replied, “There were moments when I could not keep my eyes off her, even if it meant that I would have to be the last in that long line. If there is anything beyond the Garden of Ea, I will certainly return to be at her side”. Angel seeing the sweetness in the boy’s thoughts knew that his friend would find the tears that were so
48
precious to him and that he so very much wanted. They continued on their journey, through the rain and through the cold, across flooded paths and reached the fifth village. As they entered they were struck by the cleanliness and neatness which was all around them and as they breathed, the air was familiar to them and their souls were filled with sensations. “What are these children doing out of school at class time?”. “But Ma’am”, countered a bewildered Angel, “my friend and I are travelling to the Garden of Ea”. “By no means!”. She provided a school desk and two chairs, pencil and paper and other school material, then told them to wash their hands. The child stood firm in defending his goal,
49
“We are very grateful to you, ma’am, but our course is The Garden of Ea”. With the voice of authority the teacher answered, “There is no one who can keep you from that course, but first things come first, you must know your lesson well”. The teacher’s class began with the following words: “Knowledge is fundamental so that we can distinguish ourselves from the rest”. “But ma’am, we have already been to school”, Angel pointed out.
With the authority of one who knows, the teacher replied, “If you have been to school and know the lesson, please tell me what The Garden of Ea is”. Both boys were staggered upon realizing they shared the same beliefs. “I don’t know. Angel told me that it’s the place where I will be able to find the tears for my other eye and where he will find his missing wing”. The teacher’s next words were voiced very slowly, “We always feel that all our questions will somehow be answered, but the answers are only within ourselves. The place you call The Garden of Ea, where all the rivers join the ocean and the ocean meets the sky, is a symbolic place. But is does, however, exist when
51
the right path is chosen with a visionary spirit, with joy, with perseverance and with humility. I found the Garden that you seek right here, and that you should now know this is a great satisfaction to me, as my mission is therefore fulfilled. You see, I could not live in a garden of Ea other than mine...” With eyes of infinite tenderness and authoritarian bearing she rang the bell... “Children, collect your things and be on your way. Class is over”.
52
Chapter 8.
Special performance
A
nd in an elation mingled with so many questions they resumed their journey. Once more
on a path no easier than the ones before, physically exhausted, they came upon the sixth village, which looked like a huge tent. A little man with a green ticket book in his hand stood at the entrance, offering them a ticket and promising them the best of shows. “Please take the tickets and be sure not to lose them; at the end of the show we will hold a raffle with two fabulous prizes”. “We have no money to pay for the show:” “That should be not a problem. You are the only and most awaited of spectators, so hurry up, the show is about to start”. Angel was greatly excited. He saw the lights
56
turn on and a great stage appear before him. The other boy’s eyes were wide open, in fact, as wide open as his mouth was. A band of deaf musicians performed for them with strains and melodies so sweet the like of which our pilgrims had never heard or expected to hear. Suddenly the spotlight fell on the centre of the stage onto which the master of ceremonies stepped to comment on the feats the players were about to execute. The bewildered spectators understood what was being expressed, although it was only through signs the man made with his hands. The man was dumb! How could they hear his words when these lacked all sound?. But the magic in the movements of those fingers conveyed a meaning of almost unbelievable
57
depth to their souls. A light of deepest emerald green focused on the main actor “Minus�, a child who, with only two movements of his head like an autism, poured forth feelings of unequalled wealth.
Each pore of his skin emanated dreams of beauty, his every look and breath displaying the candour of a celestial being who was expressing his thanks to life. But where were the sounds, sights, gestures and movements? All of the spectators were physically disabled, some couldn’t walk, others neither seen or hear, nor speak, nor applaud. When the show was over the master of ceremonies announced that among the tickets there were two prizes and that the winners were a boy and a half-angel. They were congratulated for winning such a fantastic prize. Angel knew that he had far more blessings than that to count: “What do the prizes consist in?� The euphoric answer to this was that they would now
59
become the troupe’s new members. “You, Angel, will fly with your only wing, and you, boy, will cry with your eye that has no tears”. Angel, who felt confused and at the same time flattered, expressed his gratitude. “All of you are wonderful and to be here with you is like living the most beautiful dreams in reality, but we cannot accept, as we choose to continue on our search for the Garden of Ea”. The master of ceremonies said: “This is the Garden of Ea and we offer it to you”. Tearfully, moved to the utmost, Angel embraced them warmly and decided it was time to leave.
Chapter 9.
The arrival
T
his is how the hardest of departures began, a road as difficult as the others and perhaps the
longest. “Angel, my feet hurt. Could you carry me for a while?” Angel, also exhausted, mostly from having to put up with his heavy wing’s constant weight, tried nevertheless to carry him, but the boy found his energy again inspired with this example and continued, steadfast. “I should have stayed in the tent; I felt a little tear sprout from my eye”. Angel, delighted, asked him, “Do you want to go back?” “No, I’ll continue to the end. After all, I want lots of tears for my eye”.
64
They made out the seventh village, in a lush green forest of great trees and small cabins, smoky chimneys, gardens and fresh fragrances. The first person they met as they walked into the village was an artist, who was deeply stirred by the presence of these two visitors and invited them to his studio. Angel was happy to meet an artist and asked him , “Is it pleasing to be an artist?” “More than that. It is a feeling of such great emotion, that it can only be released through our work”. On entering the studio, the boy,
65
whose eyes were on everything, asked, “Why is one an artist?” The artist looked within himself and replied: “The abundance of feelings that dwell within oneself and are released through art are so vast that this is the only means or possibility by which to express them. It’s as if the soul were the interpreter of the works”. The other boy who was still closely looking at all the objects around them, suddenly stumbled across a picture of such beauty, that on seeing it, Angel stood as one transfixed, mesmerised, and with a joy so intrinsic, cried out, “SHE’S THE ONE I’M LOOKING FOR!” Without knowing, Angel had begun his long pilgrimage for this meeting.
66
The painting showed a lovely girl with a wing on her left side. The artist cried out; “This is my daughter, and she is here! My prayers have been answered!” He pointed out the path on which he would find her gathering flowers and looking for the inspiration for her poems. Angel, holding fast onto his friend’s hand, ran as he had never run before. He saw her as soon as he entered the forest. There she was. Right there. Already breathless he came up to her and took her hand. Both of them were unaware of the fluttering of the boy’s eyes, who, on seeing a sight of such awesome beauty,
67
began to cry. And the tears that flowed from the eye that could not cry became an unquenchable stream, the abundance of which made it unending. He had understood that his eye that would not cry would not do so out of sadness, but out of the depths of a great and overwhelming emotion On which was joy.
Find your Garden of Ea and you will find the purpose of your life. If there is anything you lack, there is something you have too much of .Then find someone to share it with. Find your Garden of Ea!
68
You have finished this winged book and I want to thank you for sharing this wonderful journey with me. Other gentle stories are waiting for you on my website www.jorgeparada.org You can contact me here and find out about all my work as well. There are plenty of messages waiting for you to discover.
You can also continue to receive Jorge Parada´s thoughts and reflections on our Facebook site www.facebook.com/ jorgeparadaautor where you will find other sensitive readers willing to share their experiences and emotions after reading this story.
Jorge and I invite you to keep flying with us. This journey has not finished yet...
Angelo & Jorge
This book was finished the 2nd july 2013, while feathers rained down on the city.
“- Do you know what an angel with one winged is called? - I don´t know! But I don´t know what a child with an extra wing is called either!”
O
ne Winged Angel tells the story of an angel that cannot fly because he only has one wing on his back, and in order to find the missing wing to fly, he starts to travel looking for it. Wonderful!!!!
It is during this trip when he finds other people that are also looking for something missing in their lives and that is what we see in every chapter of the book: several meetings which show us a great range of abilities and differences that make the reader think and feel in an emotive way that lets us receive well the background message. One winged angel is an educational and instructive book with a clear underlying message and very appropriate from a teaching context. It is a perfect reading for Families, Schools and most of all, for sensitive and emotional people.
9
788494
179280