In eons of warmth and kinship,
did life begin in the shadows
and undulations of the Sea.

Dust is shaken in the waves and
the mud is vibrant now, fires
whirring therein, in webs and rings
and swirls and spirals and zigs
and zags. Living creatures
have emerged, and they
flit and flutter, and spread
like grains and specks. And some floated
far away, strayed into a Plane
where things fade and become
forgotten and their flames
were stamped out under the pressure.

A Shark came, to turn us toward
ourselves, it is said. These were the
greatest of the first lifeforms, and
they grew incessantly, and could
remain and persist in their
energies. So the People of 
the Sea gave the name <<nsarovith>> 
to the Shark, for they were called 
to keep us tied to the warmth and 
powers Below. Thus if any
living creature strayed and felt the
strain, and the stretching of their flesh,
and the dimming of their fires,
the Shark would take a shard of their
own flesh, to give to them, saying:
<<rayinorienwiveku>>
which translates to “fill the gap.”

For this was how the Shark could grow:
a gap in their flesh is broken,
and a scale would grow in there,
like the teeth in the mouth of a 
baby, to cover the rupture.
And so it had been with the dark
face of the Deep, where it rumbles:
a chasm broke open that
was filled with the old sparks of light.

The Shark instructed us in
similar fashion, so that
every living creature learned ways
to grow and shift their flesh amid
the flows of the Sea, and against
the weight of the world far Above,
to heal their wounds and feed themselves,
that they might maintain their fires
well like the Shark knew how to do,
remaining and persisting too.

And if they needed scales or fins
or claws or beaks or other parts,
out of the mud of their flesh the
Shark grew it for them and gave it.
But the Shark always warned them not
to go up to where the waters
become sparse and dissipate, for
there they would struggle and would die,
to be lost and floating, with no
resting place, no place for their flesh
or bones to go. 

Now the Whale, who was a jokester, 
was always challenging the Shark. 
The Whale would go Up to break the 
surface of the waters, and they 
felt a separation from the 
Deep, and saw a great chasm, and 
felt the waters thin out and fade 
into mist and air. Yet, they saw
the luminaries up there, the 
stars and the moon and other
cosmic entities, and these were
languid and their lights were so dim.
Whale would send waters up from 
within their mouth, to give the 
luminaries something to drink. 
To this day, we see the Whale 
doing this, so that by their mouth 
the heavenly bodies can have 
some measure of connection to 
the Source of life. Afterward, the 
Whale would return to the heart of 
the Ocean, to report what they 
had witnessed. “We have kin out there, 
who we have forgotten, and who need 
water too, if their light is to 
shine ever brightly!” the Whale would 
say. But nobody would listen 
to Whale because the Shark said not 
to, calling Whale a liar. To 
this very day, those who try to 
bridge separation are 
considered tricksters. And this is 
why Whale is called <<Òrarw>> which means 
“way of translating.”  

At some point, our beloved 
ancestor heard the Whale’s songs 
about the world above. Our 
ancestor swam close to them, 
eager to see these other 
beings, the luminaries 
beyond the reaches of the Sea. 
And our ancestor expressed to 
the Whale: “I doubt the Shark has been 
accurate in telling us that 
you are deceitful and trying 
to lead us to destruction.” 
For this reason the elders call 
her <Dwòivá>> which means “the 
one who is her own self.” 

The whale was overjoyed 
on account of our ancestor’s 
faith. “I have tried to make this plain 
to everyone, but there is such 
a great chasm and distance to 
surmount,” the Whale said. So, our 
ancestor raised her left hand, and 
then our ancestor raised her right 
hand, and she who is her own 
self clasped the hands together, 
interlacing the fingers. And 
<<Dwòivá>> said “the gap between 
every finger is an 
invitation to another 
hand.”  This is a gesture we have 
retained, because it represents 
the resolve to reach those who have 
been estranged. Our ancestor and 
the Whale journeyed to the Surface 
together, and there, our people 
observed the heavens, and saw the 
stars and moon and other 
entities. Whale then broke forth from 
Beneath, and our ancestor climbed 
on their back, and felt the air for 
the first time, and that is when 
Dwòivá felt the emptiness 
of the Upper world. She grew 
fearful and cried out, for she had 
never experienced 
separation from the Deep 
before. This is why, when children 
are born, they cry, because they feel 
the chasm of the outer world 
for the first time.