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When reading this essay, be patient: the second paragraph
pulls the ground right out from under you.

Meditation:  First Seed

My Dearest Husband,

You look at me with cold fury.  You fault my wayward act for costing us our luxuriant lifestyle.  How many days now I have longed for your touch, the scent of your torso, your muscular arms; how I long to riffle my fingers through your hair.  But you pace ahead of me, mouth set in a bitter line, eyes downcast in shame, unwilling to abandon me, unwilling to reconcile.

I write this letter in the year 450,000 B.C. as we regroup outside the gates of Eden.  You, Adam, and I, Eve, represent the dawn of the species Homo Sapiens.  We have just been evicted from paradise.

Genesis records it thus:  Out of the ground in Eden, the Lord made to grow every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food.  In the midst of the garden was planted the tree of knowledge of good and evil.  And the Lord commanded: Of every tree in the garden thou mayest freely eat; but of the tree of knowledge thou shouldst not eat.

Gamboling in our chirping, moist jungle, we stumbled each day across this central, plumply laden tree.  Each day, we paused a little longer to wonder what it meant.

Finally, impulsively, I stood on tiptoe just so, plucked a dappled red globe, held it to heart for a moment, then crunched my teeth deep to taste its sweetness.  I shared the second bite with you.

Now, departing in shock from Eden, we both have no choice but to obey our new commands:  You, Adam, to till the soil; I, Eve, to populate the Earth.

Soften your despairing heart, Adam.  You do not yet understand.

Our descendant in the twentieth century, Albert Einstein, will offer words which span the mists of time:  The Lord God is subtle, but malicious He is not.  One surety is symmetry between God and the meritorious qualities in mankind.  Logic and vision find a place on that roster; truculence and ineptitude do not.

You, Adam, and I, Eve, were artless children, babes really, in the Garden of Eden. Ask yourself:  What is an uncontested way to get a toddler to touch something? You install the object center stage; draw the youngster’s attention by pointing out its importance; tell him or her NOT to touch it; then turn your back.

But to what purpose? you stonily argue.

This murky conundrum fulfills its answer as I watch the furry lemur and simian colonies that we pass by.  The beasts’ hormones rage with survival instinct.  And primal neurons organize a crueler instinct of pecking order.  Species Homo Sapiens shall be no different, yet with our brain …

What chance for mankind to subsist prudently without discernment?  What chance for mankind to flourish?  Why, it must have been imperative to God to force mankind to take an intense interest in good and evil.

The Lord shall greatly multiply thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children. This pronouncement I heard when our half-eaten apple was discovered, brown-rimmed, on the ground. These words I can’t forget.  Each day you spit their echo from your lead on the dusty road we journey east of Eden.

Shed your heart’s shame, Adam.  You still don’t understand.

The womb, and its concomitants of childbirth and other women’s pain, is not my punishment for disobeying God’s command in Eden.  The womb is an endowment, a gift from God for having an unquenchable thirst for comprehension in matters sensitive to conscience.

Since the dawn of our species, it will be the female who gestates and gives birth; the mother who bonds most closely with formative youth; the mother who is earliest discharged with reproducing values.

Turn and face me, Adam!  Look at how I glow.  Soon, I will grow heavy with your child.

Goose-bumps stampede my arms when I meditate on the promised pain of childbirth.

Serves you right, you mutter, hovering nearby.

But Adam … this, neither, is punishment, nor even a primary choice in our design.  It is, rather, a secondary effect of mankind’s potential dowry, the brain. The human brain is large, its size set before birth.  Even our infant’s bony skull will be rotund relative to other species, yet must still negotiate the birth canal.

I am only a little afraid.  The Lord God is subtle, but malicious He is not.  And have we not also been granted a mantle of heart and sinew to sustain our inheritance.

Love, Eve

Georgena S. Sil
Saskatoon, Canada
Physicist & Technical Writer
Alumnus: University of British Columbia

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