LongBeard is a gnome. He is about 10 000 years old and has an unusually long beard, even for a gnome.
LongBeard lives on the golf course in Riversdale, a small rural town near Cape Town in South Africa. Only one human being so far has been lucky enough to meet him and that is how we come to know about LongBeard.
THE STORY begins…one Saturday morning long ago, way back in 1966, a young man by the name of Etienne was playing his usual weekly golf game on the golf course in Riversdale. He enjoyed being there, hitting the little white golf ball, trying to improve his handicap of 16. He especially enjoyed seeing the little stream and trees along the golf course, making this a lovely get-away place from the daily hard work of dentistry, which was his profession.
However, there were times when he didn’t enjoy having the little stream and trees there, such as when he hit the ball badly, and it flew in the wrong direction…straight into the trees, to be lost or played with great difficulty. Little did Etienne know that there was a society of gnomes living amongst those trees, and they thought it was very funny that human beings could get so intensely emotional about a little white ball!
On this particular cool, fresh autumn day, it so happened that Etienne miss-hit the golf ball on the fourth hole, causing it to disappear amongst the trees. He set off to go and look for his ball and saw it lying in the middle of the shallow stream. As he got closer to the ball, he thought it was lying on a piece of material, as he could see something which looked like green fabric sticking out from under the white ball. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks! The ball wasn’t only lying on a piece of green material, it was on top of a little man, wearing a long, pointed green hat! He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be dreaming or hallucinating! But no, the little man was still there; in fact the little man looked as if he was in trouble, for the ball seemed to have knocked him unconscious. Every now and again the water flowed over his face, making it difficult for him to breathe!
Etienne had to act fast if he were to save this little creature’s life! He dashed forward into the stream, ignoring the fact that his shoes and the bottom of his golf trousers were getting wet! While with one hand he removed the golf ball from the little man’s tummy, he slid his other hand under the little man’s body, carefully lifting him above the water, taking care in case the little man had other injuries, especially to his back or his neck. He looked in astonishment at the little creature in his hand and carefully took in every detail: the long, dark green pointed hat with the orange tassel at the end, the blended autumn and natural colours of the little trousers and shirt, the brown leathery shoes, the creamy complexion with the slightly elongated ears and round nose and the long thin fingers. Most noticeable was the extremely long brown and grey beard which seemed to be longer than the little man himself. In total, the little man was no taller than the palm of his hand.
Suddenly the little man opened his eyes. They were a very bright, light blue colour and so startlingly intense that Etienne almost dropped him out of fright. With his heart in his mouth, trying very hard to stop his hand from shaking, Etienne non-chalantly tried to speak. “Hello,” he tried to say in his normal dentist-neutral voice which he uses for nervous patients. However, this time Etienne was the nervous one and his voice sounded more like a squeak than an adult greeting! The next moment, the little man disappeared in front of his eyes and on his hand was simply a big yellow coloured oak leaf. He stared at it in disbelief, again rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating, but there on his hand was just a leaf, and no little man.
Etienne was a clever man, and he knew he wasn’t dreaming or “seeing things”. He poked at the leaf and thought for a while. Suddenl
y he remembered a technique called “shape-shifting”, an ancient practice which some people use to change themselves into something else. He remembered when he grew up on the farm, how the old native shaman spoke about beings which had the ability to alter their physical appearance. The old shaman used to be able to change his appearance, but until this point in time Etienne was rather skeptical about the concept and had certainly never seen anyone other than the old shaman do it. Then he remembered a hint that the old shaman had given him: the old shaman had taught him that only human beings can lie more than three times in a row, but other beings can’t. So he decided to put the old shaman’s teachings to the test.
“Show me who you really are,” he said to the leaf. The yellow leaf just lay there in his hand. “Show me who you really are,” he said to the leaf a second time. Next thing there was a brown acorn lying in his hand. His heart started to beat faster, for he knew there was definitely something going on here. A third time he said, “Show me who you really are.” And there, on his hand, sat the little gnome, glaring up at him with his bright, light blue eyes, grumpily saying, “Now what did you do that for? You aren’t supposed to see me!” Etienne just stared at the little man with his mouth open, his golf game long forgotten. “You are for real,” he whispered ungrammatically. “Yes,” chuckled the little man, “but no-one will believe you when you tell them about me, so don’t even try!”
From the golf course Etienne’s colleague, Tom, was calling him, telling him to hurry up. Etienne realised with a rush of insight what problems would be created for the little man and his community if others knew about their existence. “I’m coming,” he shouted back at Tom, “I’m just trying to get my ball out of the stream!”
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Etienne asked the little man, the medical practitioner side of him taking over. “No,” said the little man, “I was just winded when your ball hit me in the tummy; I should have been more careful and paid more attention, as we know these balls sometimes smack into our homes like white, round missiles!” “I’m sorry,” apologized Etienne, “I’ll certainly try and make sure that I hit straighter next time, I never realised that I may be hitting someone’s home!” “Not only do these golf balls hit our homes,” the gnome exclaimed, “but when you people come and look for your balls, you walk like drunken elephants, tramping on things without looking, breaking twigs and stepping on our gardens! We do wish you would pay more attention to your surroundings, and walk more carefully! There are other creatures about, you know, this earth isn’t just inhabited by humans!” Etienne nodded. The old shaman on the farm used to say the same things and used to caution him to be more respectful of his environment, to treat all beings, seemingly living and non-living, with equal respect. The things the old shaman taught him long ago, were one by one starting to make sense.
Tom was calling again, telling Etienne he was delaying the game, so Etienne put the gnome down on the grass on the other side of the narrow stream. He had so many more questions he wanted to ask, but he intuitively felt that this might not be the right time. The old shaman had taught him to respect this intuition, so he listened to his inner voice and simply said, “I must go, can you at least tell me your name? My name is Etienne.” “I know your name,” said the gnome, “I have often seen you here. You people don’t know how much you give away with your habits and the way you talk. I even know that you have a wife called Matty, and you have two children named Christian and Susan who are 5 and 4 years old. I have many names; you can call me what you like.”
“Can I tell my family about you?” Etienne asked. “Yes,” said the little man, “they are the only ones who will believe you.” “Thank you,” nodded Etienne, excited about the prospect of sharing his wonderful experience with those closest to his heart. “Good-bye,” he then said, “I will call you LongBeard. I hope to meet you again soon.” He stepped back very carefully in case he was treading on some invisible garden, tip-toed out of the trees, dropped his golf ball and continued playing with Tom, being very careful to look as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
From the trees LongBeard watched him and he knew that the prophecy his grandmother had made on the day of his birth had come true. She had said, “In your lifetime, your duty will be to help humans become more aware that they are not the only inhabitants of Mother Earth, that they need to re-learn their lost ability to perceive all that is around them with more than their five physical senses. They need to re-member not to just use their outer senses for hearing, seeing, tasting, smelling and feeling, but also their inner senses; they need to re-member that what they perceive with their outer senses only gives them about 5% of what there is to perceive, and that they need to learn how to use their inner perceptions, to delight in the magnitude and magnificence of this Creation. It has been written in the stars that you will be there to help them.”
Copyright © 2010 Susan Bellingan Fourie
Acknowledgement: http://www.shamanelder.com/
LongBeard lives on the golf course in Riversdale, a small rural town near Cape Town in South Africa. Only one human being so far has been lucky enough to meet him and that is how we come to know about LongBeard.
THE STORY begins…one Saturday morning long ago, way back in 1966, a young man by the name of Etienne was playing his usual weekly golf game on the golf course in Riversdale. He enjoyed being there, hitting the little white golf ball, trying to improve his handicap of 16. He especially enjoyed seeing the little stream and trees along the golf course, making this a lovely get-away place from the daily hard work of dentistry, which was his profession.
However, there were times when he didn’t enjoy having the little stream and trees there, such as when he hit the ball badly, and it flew in the wrong direction…straight into the trees, to be lost or played with great difficulty. Little did Etienne know that there was a society of gnomes living amongst those trees, and they thought it was very funny that human beings could get so intensely emotional about a little white ball!
On this particular cool, fresh autumn day, it so happened that Etienne miss-hit the golf ball on the fourth hole, causing it to disappear amongst the trees. He set off to go and look for his ball and saw it lying in the middle of the shallow stream. As he got closer to the ball, he thought it was lying on a piece of material, as he could see something which looked like green fabric sticking out from under the white ball. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks! The ball wasn’t only lying on a piece of green material, it was on top of a little man, wearing a long, pointed green hat! He rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be dreaming or hallucinating! But no, the little man was still there; in fact the little man looked as if he was in trouble, for the ball seemed to have knocked him unconscious. Every now and again the water flowed over his face, making it difficult for him to breathe!
Etienne had to act fast if he were to save this little creature’s life! He dashed forward into the stream, ignoring the fact that his shoes and the bottom of his golf trousers were getting wet! While with one hand he removed the golf ball from the little man’s tummy, he slid his other hand under the little man’s body, carefully lifting him above the water, taking care in case the little man had other injuries, especially to his back or his neck. He looked in astonishment at the little creature in his hand and carefully took in every detail: the long, dark green pointed hat with the orange tassel at the end, the blended autumn and natural colours of the little trousers and shirt, the brown leathery shoes, the creamy complexion with the slightly elongated ears and round nose and the long thin fingers. Most noticeable was the extremely long brown and grey beard which seemed to be longer than the little man himself. In total, the little man was no taller than the palm of his hand.
Suddenly the little man opened his eyes. They were a very bright, light blue colour and so startlingly intense that Etienne almost dropped him out of fright. With his heart in his mouth, trying very hard to stop his hand from shaking, Etienne non-chalantly tried to speak. “Hello,” he tried to say in his normal dentist-neutral voice which he uses for nervous patients. However, this time Etienne was the nervous one and his voice sounded more like a squeak than an adult greeting! The next moment, the little man disappeared in front of his eyes and on his hand was simply a big yellow coloured oak leaf. He stared at it in disbelief, again rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating, but there on his hand was just a leaf, and no little man.
Etienne was a clever man, and he knew he wasn’t dreaming or “seeing things”. He poked at the leaf and thought for a while. Suddenl
y he remembered a technique called “shape-shifting”, an ancient practice which some people use to change themselves into something else. He remembered when he grew up on the farm, how the old native shaman spoke about beings which had the ability to alter their physical appearance. The old shaman used to be able to change his appearance, but until this point in time Etienne was rather skeptical about the concept and had certainly never seen anyone other than the old shaman do it. Then he remembered a hint that the old shaman had given him: the old shaman had taught him that only human beings can lie more than three times in a row, but other beings can’t. So he decided to put the old shaman’s teachings to the test.“Show me who you really are,” he said to the leaf. The yellow leaf just lay there in his hand. “Show me who you really are,” he said to the leaf a second time. Next thing there was a brown acorn lying in his hand. His heart started to beat faster, for he knew there was definitely something going on here. A third time he said, “Show me who you really are.” And there, on his hand, sat the little gnome, glaring up at him with his bright, light blue eyes, grumpily saying, “Now what did you do that for? You aren’t supposed to see me!” Etienne just stared at the little man with his mouth open, his golf game long forgotten. “You are for real,” he whispered ungrammatically. “Yes,” chuckled the little man, “but no-one will believe you when you tell them about me, so don’t even try!”
From the golf course Etienne’s colleague, Tom, was calling him, telling him to hurry up. Etienne realised with a rush of insight what problems would be created for the little man and his community if others knew about their existence. “I’m coming,” he shouted back at Tom, “I’m just trying to get my ball out of the stream!”
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Etienne asked the little man, the medical practitioner side of him taking over. “No,” said the little man, “I was just winded when your ball hit me in the tummy; I should have been more careful and paid more attention, as we know these balls sometimes smack into our homes like white, round missiles!” “I’m sorry,” apologized Etienne, “I’ll certainly try and make sure that I hit straighter next time, I never realised that I may be hitting someone’s home!” “Not only do these golf balls hit our homes,” the gnome exclaimed, “but when you people come and look for your balls, you walk like drunken elephants, tramping on things without looking, breaking twigs and stepping on our gardens! We do wish you would pay more attention to your surroundings, and walk more carefully! There are other creatures about, you know, this earth isn’t just inhabited by humans!” Etienne nodded. The old shaman on the farm used to say the same things and used to caution him to be more respectful of his environment, to treat all beings, seemingly living and non-living, with equal respect. The things the old shaman taught him long ago, were one by one starting to make sense.
Tom was calling again, telling Etienne he was delaying the game, so Etienne put the gnome down on the grass on the other side of the narrow stream. He had so many more questions he wanted to ask, but he intuitively felt that this might not be the right time. The old shaman had taught him to respect this intuition, so he listened to his inner voice and simply said, “I must go, can you at least tell me your name? My name is Etienne.” “I know your name,” said the gnome, “I have often seen you here. You people don’t know how much you give away with your habits and the way you talk. I even know that you have a wife called Matty, and you have two children named Christian and Susan who are 5 and 4 years old. I have many names; you can call me what you like.”
“Can I tell my family about you?” Etienne asked. “Yes,” said the little man, “they are the only ones who will believe you.” “Thank you,” nodded Etienne, excited about the prospect of sharing his wonderful experience with those closest to his heart. “Good-bye,” he then said, “I will call you LongBeard. I hope to meet you again soon.” He stepped back very carefully in case he was treading on some invisible garden, tip-toed out of the trees, dropped his golf ball and continued playing with Tom, being very careful to look as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
From the trees LongBeard watched him and he knew that the prophecy his grandmother had made on the day of his birth had come true. She had said, “In your lifetime, your duty will be to help humans become more aware that they are not the only inhabitants of Mother Earth, that they need to re-learn their lost ability to perceive all that is around them with more than their five physical senses. They need to re-member not to just use their outer senses for hearing, seeing, tasting, smelling and feeling, but also their inner senses; they need to re-member that what they perceive with their outer senses only gives them about 5% of what there is to perceive, and that they need to learn how to use their inner perceptions, to delight in the magnitude and magnificence of this Creation. It has been written in the stars that you will be there to help them.”
Copyright © 2010 Susan Bellingan Fourie
Acknowledgement: http://www.shamanelder.com/
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