It is said that the land of Taramia is fill of vigor and life, and that it overflows with milk of all kinds and the grass tastes sweet like sugar cane. This land is blessed because in this land all are welcome. It is a utopia of love and hope. Or so it is said. It is also said that to get there one must pass from this world and embark on a perilous journey through rough terrain and war. On one side of the war are the righteous. On the other side are the heathens. It doesn't matter what side you are on because your side is always righteous, and the other side is always heathens. Always.
Methuselah Medina set out to find Taramia. He had enough of this world, which also had the righteous and the heathens only they were called patriots and terrorists. Methuselah Medina had been both at various points in his life. He was exhausted at having to pick a side and knowing it never mattered which side he picked because both sides were right and wrong. Methuselah Medina just wanted to be left alone with his scars and dreams.
There is only one way out of this world, and it is death. Methuselah Medina knew this and knew exactly how he wanted to die: by the hand of a patriot or a terrorist. He could not take his own life, and he did not care which side finally ended his time on earth. So his journey started with trying to find a terrorist or a patriot.
He journeyed for five whole days without running in to a single person, which he thought was odd. "For sixty years I have been forced to choose a side almost daily," he said aloud. "For sixty years I have twisted my words to keep me alive. Now, when I only wish to speak truth to set me free from this world can I not find another soul. How cursed must I be?"
A fox happened to be hiding be hiding behind a bush near Methuselah Medina when she heard his pleas. She too had heard of Tarabia and was tired of this land. She revealed herself to Methuselah Medina by somersaulting out from behind the bush. As she rolled, she grew to her true size. She stood on two feet and was the same height as Methuselah Medina. Her bright red hair fell to her waist, and she was the most beautiful creature Methuselah Medina had ever seen.
"My dear man, my name is Fox, and I have heard your pleas." Her voice was bright with a depth that spoke of sorrow. "I, too, wish to speak truth, and I fear I cannot speak truth on this land. I am searching for Taramia. Only there shall I be free."
"My dear Fox," said Methuselah Medina whose voice was equally sorrowful. "I know how to get to Taramia but it requires us to pass from this life. I cannot bring myself to kill my self, so I am searching for a patriot or a terrorist to kill me. Tell me, are you a patriot or a terrorist?"
"I am neither, and while I killed often when I was younger I fear I have lost my taste for blood."
"That is unfortunate for me, dear Fox. I was hoping you would be my savior. Now, I must go. Good-bye."
Methuselah Medina left Fox and continued on his journey. Only, Methuselah Medina did not notice Fox was following behind him. She transformed into her diminutive size and silently kept pace fifty feet behind Methuselah Medina.
For five more days Methuselah Medina journeyed and still he ran into no one. For five hole days, Fox ate nothing as she could not bring herself to kill anything for food. It was becoming quite difficult to keep up with Methuselah Medina for her strength was falling.
On the sixth day after meeting Fox, Methuselah Medina fell to his knees and cried. His tears wet the earth and from the wet dirt sprung the most verdant grass. It sparkled like the sky on on a moonless night, danced like a mating peacock and smelled like ripe mango. Somewhere deep inside his mind a voice told him to eat it, and so he did. It tasted like sugar cane, and he knew it must be from Taramia.
"Oh Lord!" He cried, "Why do you taunt me? I have tasted the land of Taramia and yet you deny me passage from this life. How cruel you must be!"
As he was finishing his prayer, he heard a soft exhale more than fifty feet behinf him. He turned and saw Fox. She was dying. He ran to hear and swept her up into his arms.
"Fox! Have you been following me this entire time? Oh! You cannot pass from this land yet for I am still here. But tell me, my dear Fox, what do you see? Do you see Taramia?"
"I do not see Taramia, my beloved Methuselah. I only see war and rugged terrain. It seems there is no respite in death, and I no longer wish to die. But I still cannot kill and only in another's death will I find food."
"Eat this, my dear cherished Fox," and Methuselah Medina grabbed a handful of the verdant grass and put it to her lips. She took one bite and somersaulted out of his arms. She was again her full size with flowing red hair to her waist. She took him in her arms and kissed his neck.
"Oh, Methuselah Medina, you have saved me! That is the most delicious food I have ever eaten. It is certainly from the land of Taramia, and we most certainly must be on the right path. Please let me continue on this journey as your equal. I wish to walk alongside you."
Methuselah Medina agreed and off they went searching for Taramia.
For months, they traveled and still they never met a terrorist or patriot. They did meet a gray wolf, a blue jay, a bull frog, a hornet, an alligator, a golden eagle, a great black bear and a tarantula. And each of these creatures joined Methuselah Medina and Fox as equals on their journey for all were tired of their existence on this earth and all dreamt of a land of milk and sugar cane. Whenever they were finally too exhausted to continue and hunger racked their bones, someone would cry and springing from the ground where their tears fell grew the verdant grass of Taramia. This grass sustained them for over a week until sorrow again set in, tears fell, and more grass grew.
Finally, almost a whole year had passed and their traveling party grew to over a hundred. They never met a patriot or a terrorist, the righteous or a heathen. They had traveled over mountains and across great rivers. They had passed volcanoes and skirted tornadoes. Death never visited them. It was as if the gods had blessed them all.
During this time Methuselah Medina began forgetting exactly for what he was searching. He knew it was the land of Taramia, but it seemed that it might not be as far away as once he dreamt. In fact, it was the verdant grass of Taramia that fed every creature of this traveling party, so he believed it was within reach. Somehow that grass clouded memories or made other memories more clear.
One night, which happened to be the anniversary of the start of his journey, Methuselah Medina had the most vivid dream. In it he was walking in the land of Taramia. He had arrived and so too had everyone from his party. In this land, they all were heathens, and they all were righteous. In fact, they all were comrades, and everyone and everything was living in harmony.
He felt joy, the most profound joy he had ever felt, and it made him cry. He didn't want the dream to end, but like all dreams it did end.
Methuselah Medina woke. The tears in his dreams were real tears. They had fallen to the ground, and flowing from where they fell was a river of milk. On the banks of the river grew the verdant grass. He knew immediately they had arrived in Taramia. And he knew they were still on this earth.
It is said that Methuselah Medina and his clan of creatures are still alive in Taramia. It is said you can find Taramia when you realize that patriots and terrorists are nothing more than comrades. It is said that the righteous are heathens and the heathens are righteous. It is said that joy and sorrow are both needed to find it. That is what is said, but like all great tales words hold little meaning. Rather it is the lesson that must be learned. And Methuselah Medina only learned his lesson by living it. The rest is just a dream.
