Atreyu and the Hyacinths

If of all your worldly goods you are bereft,
and two loaves of bread alone to you are left;
sell one, and with the dole,
buy hyacinths to feed your soul." --the Koran


This is not an ode to 'retail therapy'. Although I am here to testify, there are certainly times in a woman's life when she needs to think retail instead of relational. That is a term paper for another day. Today I am thinking about hyacinths.

January can be pretty bleak. The only thing on the horizon is the Superbowl--sigh, and February. Not much to look forward to (except the Superbowl commercials which sometimes are fabulous). My antidote for years has been bulbs--especially hyacinths. In the good old days when Woolworth's still existed they could be found all potted up and waiting to go home with you for so little, along with early daffodils and tulips. Nowadays, it is much harder to find them. Even finding the bulbs to force is harder. So once the gray sets in, I start patrolling.

Hyacinths, unless they are hybridized to death, have a wonderful sweet-yet clean, spicy smell. One bulb can fragrance a whole room. Originally you could only get them in that incredible Delft blue, but now, like the roses (remember?) they come in some pretty jarring combinations. Mendel would be appalled at where his discovery led.

For many years I did not know the origin of this little poem. Then thumbing through a book a while back I saw it credited to the Koran. In these days and times, I find that connection very heartening. Some of the best parts of religion get lost in politics. But before I wander off down that track, let me get back to my train of thought.

Lately I have begun to sense a growing awareness in our culture that there can never be enough things in the world to satisfy us. After consuming practically everything in our reach, we are beginning to realize things are not what we are hunger for. They can snap, crackle, pop in the most delightful ways, but rather shortly, we will weary of the show and go off looking again. What we really want are the hyacinths --the beautiful moments, the tender glances, the foggy mornings of reflection, the smell of babies or museums; the sound of the ocean or a piece of our favorite music, laughter over a shared joke, a good book or poem, a stirring movie, and on and on and on...all the parts of living that feed our soul. You know, 'the juicy bits'.

Once a while back, one of my sons was visiting just after the fox had her babies. We were sitting in the den, reading and watching the ridge for her appearance. After a long quiet he said, 'I can't believe this is what we are doing. We are sitting, just waiting to see the foxes!" There was a pause. I held my breath and waited. 'Isn't this great?!" he said. Such are the priceless rewards of mothering.

Isn't it interesting that we used to be able to get hyacinths so easily and now they have to be searched out?

You may remember the fabulous children's movie "The Never Ending Story", which is based on the novel of the same name by the German author, Michael Ende. In the story, The Childlike Empress of Fantasia is down to the last moments of her existence because humans have forgotten her. Her world is threatened with extension by the great Nothing. Atreyu, the boy hero, who has been a little slow on the uptake despite many adventures, begins to understand who she really is. They are standing together and the Empress has the last tiny speck of her world in the palm of her hand. She cries out desperately. Atreyu! Atreyu! she wails, 'Atreyu! call my name!' And in that moment, he finally understands: without her, there would be nothing. No imagination, no wondering, no day dreaming, no dreams. So Atreyu opens his mouth and calls out her name and by doing so, saves imagination to go off endlessly creating the very things our souls hunger for.

Joe Campbell would have loved this movie. For of course, it's a modern day twist of the ancient hero's search to know himself. Who would have thought all of that was in a pot of hyacinths? Something to think about next time you come across them, all potted up and ready to go home --with you.