Free Elephant Talks to God by Dale Estey Page A

would tap his trunk against his knee as if counting. In some ways he looked upon them as old friends, for they had been there every night of his life. He knew them by their names, but he also knew them by the private names he had given them. Yet, for all their familiarity, he realized they were also the pathway to the furthest distances he could imagine.
    As he carefully moved his head to take in all the shapes throughout this sector of the sky, he wondered (as he often did) about those individual stars which seemed to be part of no group. He knew that if he had access to one of the huge telescopes or if he could go in a spacecraft, he might find that each of these stars had hundreds of their fellows around them. Perhaps theheavens would prove to be as crowded as the jungle. But the elephant knew something about the deepness of space, and he thought they would probably be alone. He realized he could not tell, if he had to live that way, whether he would find it frightening or comforting. The elephant moved his big body so he was looking to the north.
    Here, the universe was darkest, for the stars appeared to be smaller still, and he thought he better understood the coldness of space by looking at them.
    Part of this was his point of view, for he was not just looking up but straining to gaze over the far trees. But then, what did he ever look at which was not encumbered by his point of view? To him, the stars were as tiny as the glow-worms on the furthest hill, and the light ached just a little more as it entered his eyes.
    â€œI can feel your distance,” said the elephant.
    â€œIs that true?” said the stars.
    â€œI can feel your chill.”
    â€œThe coldness of my light. The fire in which you will never burn.”
    â€œI can see so much.” The elephant paused. “But can I see too much?”
    â€œPerhaps.”
    â€œAnd what happens then?”
    â€œThen,” said the stars, with a twinkle in their voices, “then, I suggest you close your eyes.”
    â€œBut you will still be there.”
    â€œYes,” said God. “I’ll still be here.”
    â€œThen I’ll keep them open.”
    â€œThat would have been my guess,” said God. “You have a penchant for exercising your free will to the point of exhaustion.”
    â€œA warning?” asked the elephant.
    â€œNo,” said God. “Admiration.”
    And the elephant found himself in a state of grace as he stared unblinking at the stars. Their coldness became warm, and their fire turned to ice. He could see them moving while the earth moved, and he could feel the movement of the earth in his toes. The black sky went beyond the darkness of night and became the comfort of sleep.
    â€œBut no dreams?”
    â€œNo,” said the stars. “You don’t need dreams.”
    And the elephant raised his trunk high to wave at the stars and to welcome them and to touch their light after its long voyage through the distant centuries. And the starlight …
    â€œâ€¦ star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might …”
    â€œMight what?” asked God.
    â€œHave nothing more …,” the elephant said as he watched the starbeams slide along his trunk and make his ivory tusks glow, “… than to be right here. Right now.”
    â€œGranted,” whispered the stars.
    And the elephant found himself in a state of rapture as he stared unblinking at the stars. Their coldness inflamed his blood, and their fire froze him to his place. He could have become as deeply rooted as the trees, and he could have made his roots grow right through his living planet to come out the other side. To sprout from the earth to gaze at other stars in the black sky which went beyond the darkness of night.
    â€œAnd I’d still be right here.”
    â€œYes,” said the stars. “Your wish fulfilled.”
    And the elephant found himself as far as he had ever