The light thief
A bright fable to warm your winter season.
First a brief note about the drawings in this story:
I’d hoped to create a whole fun little series of illustrations to complement this fable. As it turned out, the first of these drawings took days and days to make. (It’s been ages since I’ve drawn anything by hand; I forgot how long real art can take.)
I loved doing it, but I ran out of time, holiday gift-wise—so all you’ll see here is that one illustration, plus a single quick angel feather sketch later on.
Although fewer than intended, these 2 pen-and-ink ambassadors of realness are my seasonal gift to you…or rather, the deep satisfaction of drawing art by hand, in hopes of bringing you a spark of delight in this dark and wintry season—that’s my gift to you. Enjoy.
THE LIGHT THIEF
In a land both near and very far away, there lived a civilization called the Luma. The Luma were a radiant people, lit from within by a beautiful divine light.
Imagine how wonderful it must have felt to be a Luma; to know oneself as this pure, constant golden light. And to radiate it outward, gifting sweet sacred light to all the beings of nature. Baby birds especially loved to bask in the soft, holy illumination, while their parents looked on, chirruping encouragingly.
Although the world itself wasn’t perfect, pretty much every day was a good day, to be a Luma.
By long custom, every Luma wore a splendidly large hat made of moss, twigs and angel feathers—this headwear symbolized their profound joy in close communion with the divine, and also their delight in being so close to nature.
The Mungus
Everybody knew about the Luma. But hardly anybody had ever heard of another, more secretive civilization called the Mungi Brotherhood. The Mungi had no ability to radiate light, and so preferred to dwell in the shadows. Yet each and every Mungus of the Mungi clan envied the Luma, for they craved the feeling of what it must be like, to radiate light from within. But that could never be.
On a fine day in early Spring, one particular Mungus was furtively following a young Luma named Glo; he watched enviously as she danced and twirled in a forest clearing, her luminosity bathing everything in soft golden light. Glo hummed and sang tree-forest songs of her own invention, pirouetting happily—until her songs were abruptly cut short by a very large rock meeting her unprotected toe.
‘OW! Stupid rock!’ she shouted.
Which caused something very interesting to happen. Interesting to a Mungus, that is.
Because as Glo shouted at the rock, angrily blaming it for her mishap, the internal gates protecting her divine light momentarily opened…which left that sacred inner sanctum unprotected for a couple of seconds. But only a couple of seconds. No longer than that.
Here’s why it was such a short security breach:
At birth, every Luma came equipped with something internal, something…well…something sort of like a kitchen fawcet, with which to express themselves. Not the kind of fawcet with separate hot and cold taps; more like the kind with a mixer tap: A single lever that can move (in the case of the Luma) all the way from pure golden light on the one hand, to darkest darkness on the other. And every mixture of light and dark in between.
This setup guaranteed the Luma a full range of expression—although luckily for them, ‘pure golden light’ was the default setting on their mixer taps. So the moment after Glo’s blameful outburst against the innocent rock (which had only been minding its own business after all), she apologized to the rock and her inner mixer tap swung back automatically to pure divine radiance.
But not before the Mungus had seen what he’d seen.‘I must find a way to slip inside those gates, the next time they open!’ he muttered to himself. ‘I NEED that light!’
But how? The Mungus had no power of his own to make such a thing happen. He paced in circles on the forest floor, rubbing his head with his tiny clenched fists, until, just as darkness was about to fall, he hatched a devious plan to steal Glo’s light.
It was a daring plan, not without risk. But if he could manage to climb up undetected into Glo’s hat, he could lean down from his perch and whisper dark suggestions into her ear.
Things like: ‘No one likes my tree-forest songs. I should stop singing them.’ And even darker things like: ‘I think that new neighbor is flirting with my boyfriend Ray.’
He whispered these things and more. And then the Mungus waited quietly inside her hat, hardly daring to breathe. Sure enough, Glo was fooled by the suggestions, believing them to be her own strangely dark and troubling thoughts.
The more she listened to the Mungus’s whisperings, the wider the sanctuary gates slid open, as she temporarily abandoned her divine inner light source. When the gates opened wide enough, the Mungus slipped inside undetected.
Greedily gathering up all the light he could carry, he was dismayed to discover the light melted out of his grasp before he could take it away. Trying over and over, the result was always the same—for it is not in the nature of divine light to allow dark thievery.
In a frenzy now, he decided to try eating the light, right where he stood, inside the sanctuary. This way, maybe he could know the joy of radiance from within…at least for a second or two.
So that is what he did. Indeed, it felt wondrous beyond words, to swallow the light and be illuminated from within. But just as he’d feared, the light lasted only a second before melting away.
But oh, what a second! It was a second worth doing absolutely anything for. To attain this radiance as often as possible, was now his sole focus in life.
‘I must tell the Mungi Brethren about this!’ he thought excitedly. So he texted a plan for a Great Mungi Gathering, where he would announce this momentous discovery.
The best laid plans…
The day before the big gathering, a near-catastrophe befell the Mungus. As he leaned in for his usual round of dark whisperings, (this time suggesting that others in the village had always been against her), Glo frowned and said, ‘No, that is not my true feeling at all.’
The naked little Mungus promptly slipped on an angel feather, tumbling out of Glo’s hat and onto the floor.
Eyes wide, Glo beheld the strange tiny figure before her. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded, ‘And what were you doing in my hat? I think you should leave here immediately!’
The Mungus was not terribly bright, but he was cunningly clever. ‘Why, I’m your best friend,’ he lied. ‘Didn’t you know? I’m a part of you, I’ve been with you all your life,’ adding, ‘You’d be horribly lonely if I was gone.’
Glo hesitated, uncertain of whether the Mungus could be telling the truth. He took advantage of this pause to clamber back up into her hat, breathing a huge sigh of relief once safely settled in again amongst the twigs and feathers. It had been a very close call.
The next day, when the great Mungi Horde arrived, the Mungus told of his thrilling discoveries: Unlimited light! Free for the taking…in one second increments. When the thunderous foot-stamping applause died down, he addressed the Brotherhood solemnly.
‘There’s just one thing,’ he cautioned. ‘Every time a Luma ignores your suggestion and chooses the light instead, you’ll fall out of the hat.’
‘You’ll fall?’ asked one of the Brethren suspiciously. ‘Sounds more like you’re pushed.’ The Mungi Brethren all grunted their agreement. ‘Yes, pushed. Definitely pushed.’
‘It doesn’t matter which,’ growled the Mungus a bit impatiently. ‘Here’s how to protect yourself: The moment you first enter the Luma’s hat, you must hurry and make yourself an angel feather cloak, and wear it always. That way, whenever you fall out of the hat, your angelic attire will persuade them you’re part of their own divine self, and must be allowed to climb back in.’
Armed with this knowledge, the Mungi fanned out across the land, each of them stealthily invading a Luma’s hat. The effect could be felt almost immediately: Previously friendly villagers began arguing with one another. Rivalries sprang up between towns, and shared resources began to be hoarded instead.
Over time, the Luma people were slowly goaded and cajoled into pushing their own mixer taps farther and farther away from sacred golden light, until the default position was (at best) straight up the middle: Halfway to dark. Meanwhile, the gates of sacred light were left unattended—easy (if very temporary) pickings for the Mungi.
But sure enough, every time the Luma chose the light instead—oh yes, sometimes they still did—the Mungi fell. (Or maybe they were pushed.) Either way, the angel feather cloak always fooled the Luma people into allowing the Mungi Brethren back into their hats, just as the Mungus had said it would.
Except…
Except for Glo, who clearly remembered the naked little Mungus who fell from her hat. He’d worn no angel feathers back then, and certainly wasn’t part of the hat or herself. She was almost sure of it.
Besides, she could still remember a time, back before she met that Mungus, when life was almost always joyous and carefree. Now, it almost never was. And not only that: She’d lost the easy communication connection she used to have with all the beings of nature. Baby birds were frightened of her now, and dared not come close.
‘So…he must’ve been lying,’ she reasoned to herself. ‘He’s NOT my best friend. He’s NOT a part of me. And he hasn’t been with me always.’
Slowly, quietly, she began to pay much closer attention to the activity of the Mungus. She memorized his habits. Watched grimly as he slipped into the inner sanctum, to gorge himself on her light. She especially took note of what happened, each time she chose the light instead; watched as the be-feathered Mungus predictably tumbled down, before laboriously climbing right back up to his perch inside her hat.
‘Right,’ she muttered firmly to no one in particular, ‘It’s time we put a stop to this.’
The Luma people awaken
Glo began to spread the word to everyone she knew; uncles, aunts, grandparents and friends (and friends of friends twice removed), all listened intently as she educated young and old alike, about the light thief residing inside their own hat.
The children were quickest to grasp the situation. Every time one of them had a selfish thought or a cruel thought, every time they noticed they REALLY didn’t want to share their toys…they would start to giggle. For they instantly knew who was behind that thought.
‘Oh, hello Mungus,’ they would say, turning their full attention to the little creature in the hat.
All the other children would gather round, echoing, ‘Oh, hello Mungus!,’ and ‘Yes, hello Mungus!,’ laughing and clapping their hands with glee as the Mungus fell from his perch. This behavior kept each individual Mungus very busy, spluttering its indignation as it fell and climbed, fell and climbed.
Yet despite the added inconvenience, none of the Mungi were tempted to abandon their places inside the hats of the Luma people.
That is, until a quiet young boy named Brill noticed what actually happened every time the children jeered the misfortune of the fallen Mungus: When they wished it ill, or made fun of its plight, the Mungus received a fresh burst of energy with which to climb back twice as fast, greedily stuffing a bit of stolen light into its mouth.
‘I must tell Glo and the others,’ said Brill. ‘I think I’ve found the key, to free ourselves once and for all.’
Thanks to young Brill, all the Luma soon learned to neither believe the Mungus’s whisperings…NOR to gloat at his downfall—for either behavior only strengthened his position.
Instead, they trained themselves to merely notice him. This neutral response meant their mixer taps never budged from the pure golden light position, and the inner gates stayed safely closed:
‘Oh, hello, Mungus.’ And then calmly observing, as he fell from the hat, fuming, before laboriously clambering back up to his perch.
Eventually, starved of Lumanity’s sweet divine light, and thoroughly exhausted from the effort of falling and climbing, falling and climbing, the Mungi Brotherhood officially called off the light thievery operation.
The Luma quietly gave thanks at the news, then stood by peacefully as the strange little beings scampered away. ‘Goodbye, Mungus!’ and ‘So long Mungus!’ the children called after them, in neither friendly nor unfriendly fashion, as the Mungi Horde disappeared over the horizon.
Shine on
The Luma people were free once again, to effortlessly choose the natural default mixer tap position of ‘pure golden light.’ Each and every Luma was refilled with divine radiance; oh how they’d missed it! And that sweet sacred connection with all the beings of nature, and with each other! What an incredible gift—one they vowed never to lose sight of again.
And so it was, from that day forward, that each and every Luma shone even more brightly than ever before, glowing with appreciation and gratitude for the true gift of light that they were and are.
And what of the Mungi Brotherhood, you may ask, last seen hightailing it out of town? I’d like to report they learned their lesson, but it wouldn’t be true. A Mungus is a Mungus, after all.
But (just like the Luma have done), we can wish them well on their learning journey…while making sure our own gates stay firmly closed, our sacred golden light safe and pure forever.
That’s it for 2024. Until next year, my friend,
Bright holiday blessings to you, from my mixer tap to yours.
Love, Carrie