While Observing
the Super Moon
"The Story of the Boy
Who Loved the Moon"
This evening, as I was sitting atop my car watching the moon rise above the trees, I was reminded of a story I once read. It was about a boy who could not be happy. Not that he wasn't happy, but that he physically could not be. One day, the boy was traveling and stumbled across an old man at the top of a rock face overlooking the forest. The boy spoke with the man for some time about many things. The main thing, though, was about happiness and how the boy was to go about finding it. The man then had an idea. The man was a collector of many magical items that he carried in three packs. In the first pack, the old man produced many old-looking knick-knacks: watches, candle sticks, and kids' toys. None of these impressed the boy. He became uninterested in the first pack and questioned the second. The old man opened the second pack and revealed things of great value: coins from ancient lands, artifacts from kingdoms long forgotten. But again, none of these impressed the boy. But the third of the the packs was a completely different story. Three small, broken-looking items lay before the two. The first was a box, the size of a small coin purse. The second was a flute, a simple thing, made from a hollowed-out reed with holes poked into the top for the fingers. The third was a larger box, but no more so than a brick. The boy asked what these useless-looking items were. The man explained.
The wooden brick was a house. Not a shack or a cottage, but a grand, wooden castle. Nothing like it existed anymore, and all you had to do was unfold it. The boy smirked with a snide look in his eyes. The man moved to the next item, the flute. He explained that it had the power to call to the moon, to attract it to the player of the instrument. The boy laughed at this too, not in merriment or happiness, but in a foolish mockery of the crazy idea. The old man then moved to the smaller box. This one, he explained, was far more powerful than the other two. He claimed it had the power to trap whatever the owner of the box wanted inside. The boy eyed the box with curiosity. The boy, wanting to find a way to make himself happy, decided to take the items from the old man. So he traded a couple loaves of bread and a cask of cool water from a spring in the fairy realm. Having collected the three items into their packs, the boy left on his adventures once again.
One evening, the boy sat looking at the brick of wood, wondering how it could fold out into a castle as the man had claimed. Looking at it more closely, the boy saw fine lines all across it, like a puzzle. He bent and twisted the box until it was roughly double its original size. He was amazed by this. Maybe the man had spoken the truth. He continued to twist, bend, turn, and push the brick until it doubled, tripled, and grew to even thirty times its original size until it had, in fact, become the glorious castle the man said it was. The boy lived in the castle for months, but as time went on, he realized he was still not happy. Desperate, he searched for the flute next. The next night, when the moon was up, he played. No tune in particular, but the sound that came out was as peaceful as the calm waters of the fairy world and as smooth as the flowing of clouds on a cool, spring day. As he played, he watched the moon from the roof of his castle. The moon came closer and closer, and the boy played and played. The moon laughed and danced and sighed and cried and cheered. Hours went by, and the moon said she must leave for it would be dawn soon. The boy begged for the moon to stay, but she insisted she would return the following night, if the boy promised to play for her again. The boy reluctantly agreed and spent the following day waiting for the night to fall and the moon to rise.
The following night, the boy played the melody again, and the moon came as she promised. They laughed together, talked, walked, and told stories to each other. But the time for the moon to go came once again. The boy loved spending time with the moon and wanted to spend every minute of every day with her. He asked the moon to stay for just a few moments so that he could give her a gift. She complied, and he went inside. He found the small box and came back out to the moon, holding the box. He declared that she was now forever his. The sun rose, and the moon lay inside the box. He played the flute for her all the time. He laughed and danced and cried and cheered. But as the days went on, the moon became less and less radiant. One day, the moon looked up to the sky and begged the boy to let her join in the dance once again. The boy was worried that she wouldn't come back because he knew he kept her from doing what she wanted and thought she would be angry with him. The moon looked at him, her eyes seeing the pain and loneliness inside him. She promised to come to him every night and give him the happiness he had been searching for all his life. The boy agreed and released the moon. She rose to the sky and shone brighter and fuller than she had ever done before. The boy cried; seeing her radiance amazed him. His love for her grew and she came back and hugged him before leaving for the day.
The moral of the story is this: Even though we may love someone, if we want to be with them, then it must be a two-sided love. You cannot take things for yourself and remove your love's happiness if you want them to love you back. You must be prepared to give them what they want and need if you expect anything back from them. At least, that is what I took from the story. What are your thoughts on this story? How would you translate it to the meaning you believe it to tell? Please comment your thoughts below. Thank you for your time!
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