Here continues the Tale of Topher, a bedtime story.
(Papa: "I love you!" Me: "How does Topher get down from the tree?" Papa: "Well, that's a difficult part of the story." Me: "Does he really have to climb down? Can't he just magically be resting on the ground when he wakes up? Please?" Papa: "My child, what kind of story would that be?! Don't you want a good story?" Me: "Yeah. I want a good story." Papa: "Good. Let's continue. At this point, Topher is waking up at the top of the tree the next morning...)
Topher gently woke to shadows flickering across his face, feeling very rested. He'd slept later than he had for a long time and the sun was already high. He looked around him, expecting the same beauty to be around him as the evening before, but was surprised to find that while all things were in their same places as the night before, they were no longer clothed in glory and beauty. The sun beat down and flooded everything with a harsh, unforgiving light. Slightly discouraged, but trying to overcome it with memories of the beauty of the night before, he realized he was hungry and needed to continue on his journey. And continuing his journey meant climbing back down the tree.
He looked down the tree, trying to find the route he'd used to climb up, but it's always easier to climb up a tree than to climb down. This realization was another discouragement, but he set his jaw and started to carefully pick his way down the tree.
Now, if you remember from last night, this tree was very tall--taller than all the others around it. Topher had a very, very long way to go. The descent was tedious and hard work. Some of the branches were rough and cut his hands, while others broke as soon as he felt he could trust them with his weight. Eventually he became able to tell the sturdy from the weak, and this helped him not fall as much, but he still had a ways to go to the bottom.
As he worked down the tree, thoughts of regret and anger plagued him. "Why did I climb this tree? Didn't I realize I was going to have to come back down somehow? And that beauty? Pah! It distracted me from my reason of climbing the tree! I still haven't found a way over the river!" His thoughts distorted all small things into big things, and big things into small things. What he'd seen as a creek the night before he now saw as a wide river. What he'd seen as beauty the night before he now saw as a trick, a devious and malicious deception not to be trusted.
He was halfway down the tree when he cried out. "Why am I in this place?! Why did I climb the tree?! Why am I so discouraged?! Why can't I remember the beauty of last night?! And why can't I just find a good branch for my hands and feet?! Help me!!"
The broken cry rang through the forest, receiving no answer. Even the birds seemed silenced. The wind was still and the air around him was hot and stuffy. But wait... what was this change? It would have been imperceivable to anyone around him, for it was inside of him. Or was it? He couldn't tell. He could only observe a faint hope being lit somewhere, as a small candle in a very large, dank, and dark room. He closed his eyes and clung to this hope. It had no words or image; it just was.
After a few minutes, he took a few deep breaths, garnered his last remaining strength, and moved to the next branch. Then the next branch. Then the next branch. He continued to breath deeply and look to the next branch, not even daring to look at how far the ground was below him. As he slowly made progress to the ground, the hope grew stronger and stronger. It finally grew strong enough that he realized what words went with it: "The ground is." For all its strength and height, even this tree relied on the ground to stand. Topher was refreshed and renewed by these words, and he had more strength to continue to the next branch, then the next, then the next.
The ground got closer and closer. He started daring to look down to see the ground. He knew it would come slowly, but the assurance that he would reach it fueled his strength. The hope grew stronger. Now it said, "This tree has roots. It is confined to one spot. You, Man, have no roots. You can explore the world." A loud laugh exploded out of him. The noise startled him, as well as the tree and the birds and the sunlight. The birds started to sing again, the sunlight no longer seemed so harsh, and even a slight breeze picked up. I don't know if it was because of his laugh or because of some other reason, but Topher continued to chuckle as he descended and got closer and closer to the bottom.
Finally, he made it! He collapsed on the ground, rejoicing in the sturdiness and strength of it, even blessing the smell of the warm dirt around him. Interestingly, now he could remember clearly the beauty of the night before. The hope that had held him through the descent had grown into a large light that had consumed his being. Now that it was realized, he was flooded with joy, thanksgiving, and gratefulness. His feelings and thoughts were so profound that if he'd had paper and a pen, he'd have written poems and songs that would have a place with those of King David.
He looked up at the tree, and he felt pity for it. "Tree," he said, "you have failed. I have reached the ground safely, and now will be on my way. You will stay here until a rot comes upon you and makes your roots soft. When you fall to the ground (and I assure you, it will be a very long fall), remember those you've tried to destroy who have two legs instead of roots, and hope instead of malice. Goodbye, and may you no longer bring men to ruin."
Topher continued on his way, hungry, broken, and exhausted past imagination, but full of hope.
("I love you. Now rest, My child. Tomorrow you can think more thoughts; but for now, sleep.")
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