The Sea Lion, part 5

It was in May that the wind began to blow. The sea lion had grown used to wind, and at first he did not pay much heed to it at all. Years of desert life had taught him to turn his back in the direction from which the wind came, and cover his eyes with his flippers so that the dust would not get in. Eventually the winds would always pass, but not this time… Day and night it came, howling across the Barren Lands, there was nothing to stop it’s fury, nothing to even slow it down. For forty days and forty nights the wind blew. And then, just as suddenly as it begun, it stopped. The sea lion lifted himself to have a look around… He could hardly believe his eyes. Every single leaf had been stripped from his tree, the branches that remained with only a twig or two left on them looked like an old scarecrow. And I do not need to tell you that there was no longer any shade from which to hide. But worse than this, much worse indeed, was what the sea lion saw next. The water hole was completely dry.

(John Eldredge)

Te Sea Lion, part 4

The sea lion was not entirely alone in those parts. For it was there he met the tortoise. Now this tortoise was an ancient creature, so weathered by his life in the barren lands that at first, the sea lion mistook him for a rock! He told the tortoise of his plight, hoping that this wise one might be able to help him.

“Perhaps,” the tortoise mused, “ this is the sea”.

His eyes appeared to be shut against the brightness of the sun, but he was watching the sea lion very closely. The sea lion swept his flippers once against his side, gliding to the other side of the water hole and back,

“I don’t know,” he said, “it isn’t very deep”

“Isn’t it?”

“Somehow, I thought the sea would be broader, deeper, at least, I hoped so.”

“You must learn to be happy here” the tortoise told him one day, “for it is unlikely you shall ever find this sea of yours.”

Deep in his old and shrivelled heart, the tortoise envied the sea lion and his sea.

“But I belong to the sea. We were made for each other…”

“Perhaps, but you have been gone so long now, the sea has probably forgotten you.”

This thought had never occurred to the sea lion, but it was true, he had been gone for a long, long time…

“But if this is not my home, then how can I ever feel at home here?” the sea lion asked.

“You will, in time.”

The tortoise appeared to be squinting, his eyes a thin slit.

“I have seen the sea, and it is no better than what you have found here”

“You have seen the sea?!?”

“Yes. Come closer” whispered the tortoise. “and I will tell you a secret. I am a not a tortoise, I am a sea turtle. But I left the sea of my own accord, many years ago, in search of better things. If you stay with me, I will tell you stories of my adventures.”

The stories of the ancient tortoise were enchanting, and soon cast their spell upon the sea lion. As weeks passed into months, his memory of the sea faded,

“The desert,” whispered the tortoise “is that is, or was, or shall ever be.”

When the sun grew fierce and burned his skin, the sea lion would hide in the shade of the tree, listening to the tales woven by the tortoise. When the dry winds cracked his flippers, and filled his eyes with dust, the sea lion would retreat to the waterhole.

And so the sea lion remained, living his days between waterhole and tree.

The sea no longer filled his dreams.

(John Eldredge)

The Sea Lion, part 3

The sea lion loved his rock, and he even loved waiting night after night for the sea breezes that might come. Especially he loved the dreams those memories would stir. But as you well know, even the best of dreams cannot go on, and in the morning when the sea lion woke, he was still in the barren lands. Sometimes he would close his eyes and try to fall back asleep. It never seemed to work, for the sun was always very bright. Eventually it became too much for him to bear. He began to visit his rock, only on occasion. “I have too much to do” he told himself. “I cannot waste my time just idling about”. He really did not have so much to do, the truth of it was: waking so far from home was such a disappointment he did not want to have those wonderful dreams anymore. The day finally came when he stopped going to his rock altogether, and he no longer lifted his nose to the wind when the sea breezes blew…

(John Eldredge)

The Sea Lion, part 2

Had you journeyed in those days through the barren lands you might have seen the sea lion for yourself. Quite often, in the evening he would go and sit upon his favourite rock, a very large boulder which lifted him off the burning sand and allowed him a view of the entire country. There he would remain for hours into the night, silhouetted against the sky, and on the best nights, when the wind shifted toward the east, a faint smell of salt air would come to him on the breeze, and he would close his eyes and imagine himself once more at the sea. When he lay himself down to sleep, he would dream of a vast deep ocean. Twisting and turning, diving and twirling he would swim and swim and swim. When he woke, he thought he heard the sound of breakers; the sea was calling to him…

(John Eldredge)

The Sea Lion, part 1

Once upon a time, there was a sea lion who had lost the sea. He lived in a country known as the Barren Lands. High on a plateau, far from any coast, it was a place so dry and dust that it could only be called a desert. A kind of coarse grass grew in patches, here and there, and a few trees were scattered across the horizon. But mostly, it was dust. And sometimes wind, which together, make one very thirsty. Of course, it must seem strange to you that such a beautiful creature should wind up in a desert at all. He was, mind you a sea lion. But things like this do happen. How the sea lion came to the barren lands, no-one could remember, it all seemed so very long ago. So long, in fact, that it seemed as though he had always been there. Not that he could belong in such an arid place, how could that be? He was after all a sea lion. But, as you know, once you have lived so long in a certain spot, no matter how odd, you come to think of it as home.

(John Eldredge)