The Mermaid's Tale

All mermaids are storytellers. One of the best of the tale-spinners is named Daredra. She often swims in the shallow tropical waters near my Florida home. I found her there
on a night last weekend, combing the seafoam
and spray from her long brown hair. A misty
yellow moon was rising behind her out of a charcoal-colored ocean.

I asked Daredra for a story. Agreeable lass that she is, she readily consented. Daredra told me she'd been swimming the night before, in the ocean off Miami Beach. And the glittering lights of the hotels, which can be
seen for many miles at sea, reminded her of a
long-forgotten story from the days when the world was young.

Daredra said that the tale she was going to
tell me -- like her own tail -- was part legend, part myth, part magic, and part poetry. She asked me to share the story with
my friends, and I readily agreed. There was a
moment of delicious silence. Daredra gazed up
at the gleaming yellow moon, as if drawing on its power. Then she turned to me, smiled, and
began her tale.

Long before the rise of Ancient Greece and Rome, the people of Atlantis had created the
world's most advanced culture. In many ways,
their technology went far beyond anything that
the modern world has developed. But in spite
of their engineering marvels, evil times befell fabled Atlantis, and it wasn't long
before God had become very angry with them.

For you see, the people of Atlantis enslaved the inhabitants of neighboring islands, and
worked them unceasingly until they died. The
men of Atlantis were greedy and sensual. They
violated their own women and those of the
slaves with ruthless ferocity. Unwanted
children were abandoned, and the sick and
elderly were cast off cliffs into the sea.

Atlantis was ruled by a hereditary King who
surrounded himself with courtiers and flatterers. Only the King and his court were
allowed to eat the greatest delicacy which the
island provided. And that was the flesh of an
orange starfish which drifted up onto the beach during the full moon on Midsummer's Eve.

On that single night, thousands of the delicious starfish would come in with the
evening tide, and be stranded on the beach.
The next morning, the slaves of Atlantis were
forced to gather the starfish, and bring them
in baskets to the King's palace. For a full week, the King and his lackeys would stuff
themselves with starfish until none were left.

In fact, on the entire island, there were just
two good human beings; a man named Tico and his wife, Lea. They owned no slaves, and tried, as best they could, to lead decent
lives. But the evil culture of Atlantis oppressed them mightily, so Tico and Lea
decided they would have to leave Atlantis in their small open boat, and migrate to another
land.

They chose to embark on Midsummer's Eve, during the night of the full moon. Tico and Lea filled their small skiff with food and
water, and dragged it down to the beach. They
expected to see no one, because the King and his court were resting for the week-long orgy
that was scheduled to begin in the morning.

But to their great surprise, the young couple
saw a hooded, black-robed figure standing
ankle-deep in the warm sea. The mysterious creature was gently lifting starfish from the
shallow surf, and hurling them, discus-fashion, into the deeper water beyond the reef.

Speechlessly, Tico and Lea watched him -- at first in fascination, and then in growing
awareness. Without a word to him or to each
other, they joined him in the shallow water.
And throughout the night, hour after hour,
they cast the orange starfish back into the
Deep.

When the sky grew light and the sun was about
to break the horizon, the hooded apparition
turned to them, and pointed out to sea. Wordlessly, Tico and Lea waded back to the beach, dragged their skiff into the surf, and
paddled away from Atlantis. They did not look
back.

After a sea-voyage of five weeks, the homeless
couple beached their craft on a tropical island. It was a beautiful land with a gentle
climate, and they were delighted that it was
uninhabited.

Tico and Lea lived happily on the island, and
their children were many. The community they
built was based on goodness and understanding.
God allowed them to prosper. They never knew
that soon after their departure, Atlantis was
destroyed by an enormous tidal wave. The entire wicked civilization perished.

Like Atlantis, however, the most important holy day on the new island occurred when the
orange starfish drifted up onto the beach. On that night, Tico and Lea and all their children and grand-children went down to the
ocean and waded out into the moon-drenched surf. They picked up starfish and gently cast
them back over the reef and into deeper water.Throughout the night, the ceremony would
continue until all of the starfish were back
home in the Deep.

One night, Pepi, one of their youngest grandsons, asked them why it was the custom to
throw starfish back into the ocean.

Tico looked at him affectionately, and said,
"You see, Pepi, the starfish don't really want
to come up on our beach. But they're attracted
by bright lights, particularly the image of the full moon gleaming through the shallow water. So the starfish detach themselves from
their homes on the floor of the ocean, and follow the lure of the lights. And that leads
them to their death."

Lea looked at the little boy. "The reason we
throw the starfish back, Pepi, is because
we've found that human beings, even good ones,
are sometimes lured by false dreams and desires. And they often, inexplicably, drift
to their deaths pursuing the siren lights."

Lea tousled the little boy's hair. "Someday,
Pepi, you may find yourself alone and abandoned on just such a desolate beach. But
should that happen, God will cast you back into deeper water because you have been kind to his beloved starfish."

Tico looked at his grandson. "Do you see those
stars up there, Pepi -- that group just beyond
the Big Dipper that looks like a starfish?"

The little boy glanced up and nodded. "That's
the Sign of the Starthrower, Pepi. As long as
we can see that constellation, we know that God is pleased with us."

Lea continued, "And on nights like this, when
the Sign of the Starthrower is gleaming bright
in the midnight sky, we all recite a short prayer that you will learn and pass on to your
own children. It goes like this:"

Starthrower, Starthrower
Cast me to sea
Back home to the Deep
Where alone I am free
Starthrower, Starthrower
Pray that my kin
Will learn that the Light
That they seek
Is within

Tico and Lea's children spread out to the far
corners of the Earth. But along the way, many
of them forgot their gentle ways, and evil has
once again become common in our world. The Sign of the Starthrower still gleams in the midnight sky, but few people are good enough
to see it.

If you would be one of them. you must recite
the age-old words of the prayer, while you
picture yourself casting a starfish back into
the sea. And if you do, when your plight is most desperate, when you feel most alone and
forsaken, God will be there for you.

End of story. Daredra looked up at the moon,
and slowly repeated the words of the prayer
one last time. Then she smiled at me, slipped
into the water,and, with a flick of her
mermaid's tail, disappeared into the Deep.

...........................................



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