The Calligraphy of Snow

A Fable of Cordoba, Spain

As I write, the planets above us all are aligning. Every night I’ve been watching Mars, Jupiter, Venus, and Saturn, knowing the rest are out there in the darkness, too far away for us to spot without telescopes.

Here in the Midwest, the weeks of snow-covered earth, the arabesques of bare tree limbs, the sudden sight of a watchful hawk and bright red cardinals against frosted branches have offered a kind of….otherworldiness to enhance the day-by-day life.

At the same time I find myself dreaming of an ancient city in the south of Spain I recently visited, where it very rarely snows…this city was the capital of 8th-century Islamic Spain and was known the world over for its flowering libraries, *hundreds of thousands of books*…and dozens and dozens of humble copyists…

La Mezquita-Catedral de Cordoba

…The Calligraphy of Snow: a Fable of Cordoba (An audio file is below)

Amidst the whispering sheets of paper, planets. What else belonged alongside the floral Arabic calligraphy and the geometric Greek letters but those wandering beings of rock and earth which were spinning together in a long flowing arc across the sky as he wrote?

The boy looked up. His master was frowning at him.

--Why are you drawing planets in the margins of these papers?

The boy got nervous. The top of his head started sweating and he felt his cap would slide off in his anxiety.

He had to tell the truth. Anyway he couldn’t think of a lie good enough to deceive his master.

--Because… before I knew it I started dreaming. I was walking through the…forest of these letters and I looked up and saw the planets align in the….space between these words. I have heard sir—as you must know---that the planets are lining up above us now, and I started imagining them…

--You do not earn your keep by imagining but by inscribing. These texts have been translated from Greek to Arabic in the capital of Baghdad and it is your job to recopy the Arabic. What if this text catches fire? It will be lost forever. This is why you inscribe over and over and over.

The boy nodded, but couldn’t stop himself from dreaming Bagh-dad. Ancient Persian..Bagh..God..dad…gift…the gift from God.. His master slapped his cap and walked to the next student.

*

After his work was finished the boy went to the market to buy some tea. He paid a small coin for fragrant mint tea and a small spiced bun. He ate as he wandered, and soon found himself at a stall where the merchant had posted a sign which said “Luxury Items Sold Here.”

Marvelous jewels and halva of exotic dark sugars and fruits lay arranged in heaps in front of the merchant. And then, in a small silver container sat something else. The boy picked up the container. It was octagonal and cold to the touch.

--Excuse me sir what is in here that is so cold?

--Nothing you can afford child. Go.

--Please I’m so curious can’t you tell me?

The merchant looked at him bored. He had ruddy skin framed by sad eyes and a long drooping dark-brown-reddish mustache. His whole being looked sad.

--If you must know, snow. He sighed. --Now go.

The boy nodded, and left.

*

As the boy ran away from the stall, he thought, Snow. I have heard of this but don’t know what it is?

He raced down twisting side streets bordered by homes filled with dreams, shops overflowing with wishes, and, most of all, libraries. A labyrinthine warren of libraries filled the fine city of Cordoba, offering searching spirits thousands and thousands of manuscripts to peruse. Here, the souls of books found their home.

The boy thought of the books as diamonds. Oh he got bored inscribing them but how he loved reading them.

Finding the library he wanted—holding Treasures of Natural Wonder---he popped in, leafed through book after book until he found a compendium of Natural Magic and leafed through it, burning with curiosity.

Finally, he found the entry: SNOW. A substance found only in cold lands which turns the ground pure white and shines like diamonds at day or night. When a full moon rises above, its mother of pearl radiance is the only thing that matches the splendor of snow.

Addendum first: When snow is on the ground, the night turns as bright as day. Especially if the aforementioned full moon rises above.

Addendum second: It has been noticed that when bright sunlight shines upon the snow-covered earth, blue shadows flood the land.

The boy’s heart started racing. He thought he’d had all the wonders of the world right here in Cordoba. The sun favored this learned city, whose yearning for truth

shined as brightly as its local pomegranates and tasted as sweet as its oranges. Indeed the discussions held in Cordoba were richly intoxicating as the knowledge of scholars and storytellers with wise fables to tell would make anyone who listened want to dream, and dream, and dream some more…

But snow? He’d never seen it here.

He decided to go buy some.

*

The boy first stopped in the city’s mosque. He walked through dozens of arches striped in cream-and-wine red, discovering tunnel after tunnel of cool space. He wandered alone for a while, making sure his decision to buy snow was correct. When he couldn’t stop visualizing fields of majestic white frosted with blue shadows the color of ink with which he drew his planets, he knew he made the right decision.

The boy left the mosque and ran back to the market as fast as he could, thinking all along, I don’t know how I’ll pay for it but maybe I can borrow some money from the master and work really really hard and pay him back.

He got to the merchant-stall but the merchant had closed up for the night.

--Is the merchant of luxuries coming back tomorrow? he asked the tea-seller.

The tea-seller shook his head. –No. A lord came by with his lady and bought everything he had.

--Even the snow?

--Even the snow.

The boy shed one tear. Then the tea-seller said, feeling sorry for him, --The planets are aligning tomorrow. When they align miracles happen. Watch for the snow then.

The boy thanked him and left.

*

The next night the boy sat by the side of the great river which danced through Cordoba and looked up at the sky. Floating gems cascaded through an endless sea of darkness. Many people stood alongside him, watching the beautiful planets come together in gentle shapes of geometry and, the boy realized, sentences of calligraphy.

They are writing us letters in the sky. The moon was full as well; its light shone brightly upon the mosque and the surrounding sand.

But there was no snow.

An old man leaning on a stick asked the boy, “Isn’t it beautiful?”

The boy nodded. “Yes. But I really wanted to see snow.”

“Snow?” the old man said. “It doesn’t snow here in Cordoba. It’s too warm.”

“Yes but someone was selling it in the marketplace.”

“If he was really selling snow here in Cordoba it would be worth millions because it will melt here.”

“But I know he was selling it. The box it was in was cold.”

“Then wait for the merchant to return. Or better, go to the lands in the north when you get older and can explore. In the meantime, look up. The planets are waiting for us to watch them.”

Disappointed, the boy sighed, and watched the stories unfurling in the sky.

All was quiet. Except that now and then, someone laughed in delight.

After a while, the boy forgot about the snow. Instead he found he could read the sentences the planets were writing!

And they promised him: the next time they all aligned, snow would fall.

**

*So many of our languages are inextricably related through the massively spreading branches of the Indo-European language family. Bagh of Baghdad, meaning God, is of Persian origin, and is cognate to Bog in Slavic languages, and Bhag in Sanskrit, as in the Hindu text the Bhagavad-Gita, or the Song of God.