Lore Book: Ehrudei's Teachings

And so it happened that I was strolling on the water’s edge after a long week of harvest when the wind whistled through the peaks of the Ruxihuadel. As I came to the Heap, I again noticed the Great Serpent, straightening out the rocks and restoring life to the battered conifers of some long-lost land. The Serpent was vast; They were larger even than when They had last come through the mountain valley where we made our home.

As I approached, the Serpent swung its majestic visage toward me. Dropping to a prayer position, I called out to Them:   

“Great Drehmal, I had not anticipated finding you here, but I humbly request your assistance. Can you spare a moment of your time?”

In a primordial rumble which echoed across the land, the Serpent laughed. “Time is immaterial to me, small one. Though I must soon rest, I shall not do so until my work is finished. What is it that you wonder?”   

I looked into Their gleaming eye with some trepidation, as They were taller alone than most of the trees in our homeland and spoke as clearly as I could: “Though I have worked in the fields every day this week until my fingers are raw and bleeding, even a bountiful harvest strikes me as useless when framed in context to your work! Among the great chaos of the lands in the center of the sea, you find order, and you seem to create the water we drink and the food we labor to grow. What can I possibly do that will contribute in a meaningful way to this world that you change at a moment’s notice?”

The Serpent regarded me for a long moment, and then formed Themselves into a great coil which could have easily reached around the entire valley. They spoke in the same deep voice, but it carried notes of kindness. “Drehmari, your work is no less important! By following your path until its end and working hard to meet the demands of your soul to learn, create, and find happiness, you fulfill your station. Though you are small, and I am big, I am doing no different. After all, it is with the act of repairing what is broken, of bringing order to this place of despair, that brings my soul joy!”

Still in reverent shock that the Serpent was addressing me, I stood still for a moment and considered Their words, before deciding that they did not satisfy me. Daring to speak again, I lifted up my voice: “If what you say is true, why have you made surviving in this place so difficult? Slaughtering animals and spending days in the fields to reap the harvest does not bring me any joy.”

The Serpent nodded, and flicked Their giant tail, sending ripples throughout the water. “It was not my decision to make, but that of my forebears. Like you, I operate within constraints. But rather than turning to frustration, we must learn to take some pleasure in our work. For example, take the walk that you have embarked upon today. Does the air not taste sweeter now that you have spent the week laboring to breathe as you harvested the fields? And is the scenery not more stunning when you spent so long in the confines of one place? Remember my words: Do the unpleasant things that you must, but take pleasure in the positive impacts of that work. And when the undesirable labor is complete, work towards the creative yearnings of your soul with no less vigor! I believe you will find that a labor of love is no burden at all.

Nodding my head and bowing deeply, I thanked the Serpent for Their wisdom before departing the way I had came. I recalled my wooden flute which I had resolved to put down for the entire harvest season, and suddenly was filled with a great desire to play. Though there were other tasks which would need to be done before the cold came, I spent the few hours remaining in the day learning the notes of a new melody.