The Wet Rope

For this month's blog post, I wanted to share with you a short story I wrote. And, as most stories do, there is a story behind the story that I wanted to share with you first.

The genesis of this short story is in a hot, damp, yoga room with my wife. Yoga is an activity that stretches me physically and emotionally. The room is kept at an intense 95 degrees farenheit and the activity constant. But even more intense is the emotional energy it takes to stay in the moment when I can barely balance on one foot, and the person next to me has lifted themselves off of the mat using just a hand. It's hard. In those moments I feel small, like I'm comparing test scores with someone way smarter than me.

But a couple weeks ago, the instructor of the class suggested we find an image of what we're aspiring towards through yoga. And what came to my mind was the image of a wet rope. Something about that image felt right. I wasn't at yoga to learn how to float off of the mat. At the moment, I just wanted to spend the hour not thinking about work and not worrying about socializing. I just wanted to be in the moment.

The yoga was incredibly refreshing and, as I went through my week, the image of that wet rope followed me. Something in my heart and soul resonated with the image. Out of that resonance, came the short story that I'm about to share with you. The story reminds me a lot of the stories I would read as a child. It reminds me of a less cynical and more self-connected times. And I think these are precious things that I want to have the courage to share.

And so, here is the short story The Wet Rope, by me.

The Wet Rope

The rope lay on the deck, inert and purposeless. It looked longingly at the horizon and its lapping waves. Other ropes would go on those waves. They were newer, tougher, and lighter. Their polyester threads could even float on the water. They would always be chosen over the old hempen rope.

But one day, there were no new ropes available. And a boat came in. It needed to be tied to the docks. Its captain was a young man, unaware of the dangers of the sea. He had left his newer boat behind at the last dock, or lost it at sea. The deckhand recognized an opportunity in this young man. He thought he could sell him the dead weight old rope to the naive captain. Marketing the hempen qualities as the “good and better old ways”, the deckhand convinced the captain to take the rope with him to sea.

The old rope could hardly believe its luck. A day before, the rope had been only decoration and a symbol of sailing days gone by. Now, it was holding a real ship to the docks and it would soon be off on a trip to see the ocean. Then, it would finally be able to know and explore that silver horizon. The rope held to the ship with a new sense of purpose and hope of adventure.

But, the sea is unpredictable and uncaring of small concerns. With the dark of dusk came an unpredictable squall from the cold salty waters. The winds churned the bay until it thrashed with a raging fury. The poor old rope and its precious vessel clung to each other and the safety of the dock. The rope feared that the action of the boat’s wrenching to and fro motion would cast it off to sea, and so it clung desperately to its hope of adventure. The rope knew there would be no second chances.

With each wave that threatened to wash the rope off of the boat, the rope became tighter and denser. With each gust that pushed the vessel out to sea, the rope yanked it back just as hard. With every passing testing hour, the rope became more and more surely tied to the boat. And when the storm broke at dawn, the rope and its vessel emerged; its purpose fulfilled.

When the deckhand and captain returned to the docks, they moaned in despair. The new boat that they had tied just the day before was now badly battered and bruised. The deckhand cursed his luck. He had forgotten that natural hempen ropes shrink when wet. The rain and waves had soaked the rope and shrunk it so that it pulled the boat too close to the dock. That had caused this disaster.

The sorry deckhand explained his mistake. And the captain, knowing no better, graciously accepted the apology. They agreed to make the damages right. But, when they went to untie the old rope, the deckhand’s fingers could find no purchase on the rope. What had been simple sailors knots the day before had tightened under water and waves into Gordian messes that were impossible to undo. Cursing a day that simply could not go right, the deckhand used a knife to cut the rope loose. He took the too short loose ends of the rope and cast them as far as he could into the sea.

The rope made it only a short distance away from the dock. It soaked in the briny bitter water of the bay and became very heavy. In short time, it sank to the bottom of the sea.

For some time, the rope lay in shock, mourning this cruel twist of fate. For another time, it slept during the day and wept through the night. And for another, it could not see any way in which its life had improved for all of its valiant efforts to keep the boat safe at the dock. But after these three times, the rope began to change. Green algae found purchase on the ropes hempen coils and thanked the rope for giving it a place to grow. Small shrimps hid in the rope, seeking refuge from crabs that picked at its threads. The life of the sea claimed the rope as theirs. And the rope realized that it had indeed discovered something new.

It began to recognize the high and low tides. It named the currents that drew these tides and different temperatures water in. It saw species invade, and then become the natives. Until one day, the rope began to fray.

The rope was not afraid. It knew that all things come to an end some day. But what it did not know was that in coming to an end, it was also becoming something new. As the strands of hemp flecked off of the rope, the rope’s conscious followed them into new worlds. These strands flew off into the silver horizon. And at last, the rope saw the grand and terrible world.

It saw the ships of human pride, wrecked on the bottom of the ocean. It saw creatures that human eyes had never seen, and maybe would never. It felt the blazing heat of sea vents. It knew the glaciers as they shattered into the waves. And in these moments, it felt itself as a new kind of rope. And it felt a glorious tension in holding the dock, the bay, and the entire ocean itself.

In the final days, the rope held these experiences together. It treasured its own and all these other lives around it. And, with a deep sigh, it let go of all of them and vanished into the atomic vibrations of the universe. In this new adventure, the rope resolved not to fear or hold too tightly to these dreams. It went in trust, knowing the power of becoming something new.

Snacks!

Totally stole this idea from another blogger. I really liked the format for sharing smaller tidbits and other people’s works :)

• MOVIE: Digimon Adventure tri: Reunion — When this series of follow up movies came out, I didn’t take the time to watch it. I figured the moment had passed, but when I watched it this last week I was surprised by how much Tai’s self doubt and struggle with changing resonated with me. I’m not sure if this means the movie is a standout or if I’m just immature! I felt catharsis in watching him struggle to find a new role in the world.
• BOOKS: The Hidden Girl by Ken Liu — I started this series of short stories this month, and only got through the first one. I really liked how it captured the stretched tension of Asian Americans trying to assimilate. I felt less lonely and validated in how I’ve walked my own path.
• PHILOSOPHY: This is Water by David Foster Wallace — This is a controversial author in my opinion. I came upon him because the pastor at the church kept quoting this commencement speech. It’s always difficult to parse the ideas separately from the person. He was abusive and depressed. His ideas are about how to consciously avoid being abusive and depressed. I feel like the results matter, and his conduct scars the ideas he presents. And I also feel inspired to live more consciously. And I feel a weight of a life lost because they failed to achieve these goals.