She was washed on the beach, not knowing what happened and how she got there, or where she was from. But she remembered the snow. She was found by the local folks who took care of her. She loved the lush of the tropics, but she also knew the far away places. She knew the snow. Her skin remembered how the snow felt as it touched the skin, the feeling of the cold on her body, her ears remembered the silence of the snow covered landscape. She remembered the sound that the snowflakes make as they fall. Her feet remembered the feel of the crunch crunch sound that they make when walking on the snow.
She talked to the kind people who befriended her and invited her to their homes, showed her hospitality. She told them the stories of the snow and they listened with interest. Her stories sparked many interesting conversations, they sparked new feelings among the folks. Could such a thing really exist, so different than what we know. Is she just making things up or has she been hit on the head and is hallucination. Many people could not even imagine the snow. Some people said she was lying, that she was trying to deceive them with her stories.
The curious ones asked many questions...does it exist this snow of which you speak of. What does it feel like, what does it smell like, what does it taste like? How can water change like that? What does cold mean, what does it feel like? What do you do on snow. But mainly, they wanted to know if it really exists. Other people who called her a liar, did not want anything to do with her. They could not imagine that something like snow could be. It was not true, they said, because we've never seen it or experienced it, they said. Some others were completely disinterested in what she had to say, they had no time for such nonsense.
Others, who got to know her really well, knew that she was not the lying type. So they believed what she said, they developed faith that somewhere out there exists a thing called snow. They used their imagination to conjure images of snow and what it must feel like, what the silence of the snow sounds like. They developed faith that snow exist but had no experience of it.
Some of them were even the adventurous kind. They wanted to see this snow, they wanted to explore and experience it for themselves. So they decided to build a boat that would take them to the far places. She helped and directed the construction, because there were so many things that her friends never thought of including with the boat. Like enclosed spaces, warm spaces. Like special clothes, many clothes. They have never seen or wore the kinds of clothes such as she made.
And the day came when they said their goodbyes and started the journey. Somehow she knew where she had to go. North she directed the boat, always North. They traveled for months, stopping at many places to stock up. Her friends were amazed at all the variety of things that they have encountered along the way. People with strange and interesting custom's. Fantastical sceneries. They were homesick but at the same time curiosity kept them going forward. North she said, we keep going North.
As the scenes changed they started getting the sense of snow, the smell and the feel of snow. At times they could even see the white capped mountains in the distance. Their trust in the existence of snow has been building up. They didn't even notice at first how their faith was slowly dissolving into knowingness. They each now had their own experiences with snow, of the refreshing feel of cool air.
And one day, they arrived. They got used to the cold as they traveled and their bodies had time to adjust. They learned how to wear the new clothes, they learned some of ways of the cold. The landscape they found themselves was getting ready for snow. The folks of the area were welcoming and friendly. They invited them into their homes and she was at home.
And then came one morning they saw it, they saw snow. The landscape now unconscionable from the night before and covered in white. They excitedly went outside and started playing with the snow. They touched, they danced, they sang. They made snowballs and played.
They didn't even realise at first just how much their questions changed. The whole set of old questions has dissolved. They no longer had to wonder if the snow really exists. They experienced it, they played with it, their senses were touched by it.
They started asking different questions about the snow. How do we live with snow, how do we play with it? Are there many flavours, can we have fun with it? What are its seasons, what are its habits? We will need time to get to know its taste, the smell, the sound, the feel.
Some of them could not wait to go back to their tropical island to tell others about the snow. That it really exists.
And this is where the Imperfect Analogy ends. How do you explain the snow to another who has never experienced the cold? You tell analogies and stories.
And when they look into your eyes they may be able to glimpse the truth. And they may remember the time of magic, when as a child they knew their soul, themselves as a soul. They experienced. And then they have forgotten, and they accepted faith instead.
And some may want to experience the time of magic again and not settle for the faith only. And they will start the journey.