In the times of castles and moats, there lived a princess. An only child, her life was to be one of comfort, lavishness, and splendor from the cradle to the grave. She wore only satin and silk. She was served only the finest delicacies. She lived an enchanted existence until her twentieth year.
One day, the princess went for a walk in the woods and lost her way. Wandering for hours on end, she realized that she couldn’t find her way back to the castle. Exhausted, she lay down on the bare ground and fell asleep. She dreamed that she would never make it back home, that she was destined to spend the rest of her life in the woods.
She woke up with a start, looked around, and realized that it wasn’t just a dream; she was still in the forest. In a desperate panic, she ran- bumping, crashing, falling down, and getting back up again. Hour after hour, she ran deeper and deeper into the forest…and further and further from the castle. Exhausted, she collapsed and again fell into a deep slumber. When she awoke, she realized that if she didn’t eat, she would die. She remembered that some of the berries and roots in the woods were edible, so she scrounged together some sort of nourishment and passed the time. Soon the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months.
After more than a year, her clothes tattered, her hair disheveled, she stumbled onto a clearing in the forest and saw what looked like a
shack made of logs. She approached, slowly,cautiously… There were no sounds.Silently, she circled the shack. It was empty.She opened the door, looked in, and saw awell-tended, primitive home with a table,chairs, and a fireplace. It looked like someonehad recently been there. In the corner sat awood-framed bed with straw for the mattress.Exhausted, and not having slept in a bed forover a year, she lay down and immediately fellinto a deep slumber.
Many hours later, she awoke with a start, andsaw a peasant standing over her. He was large,coarse, and darker than any man she had everseen. But as shocked as she was to see him, hewas equally taken aback by her presence.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind.“Will he harm me? Who is he? Does he speakmy language?” Before she had a chance to uttera word, he brought her a blanket and coveredher with it. Out of absolute exhaustion, she fellback asleep.When she woke up in the morning, she real-ized that she was alone again. The man wasgone. She looked around the shack with itsdirt floor, holes in the walls, and simple woodtable and chairs. “It has almost a cozy lookto it,” she thought to herself. Slowly wipingthe sleep from her eyes, she noticed a bowlof warm porridge on the table. Famished, shewolfed it down.Her eyes filled with tears as she thought backto what were now distant times-to her home,the castle, bedecked with the finest ornaments;
to her wardrobe, made of the most delicate fabrics; to her bedding, the smoothest satin and silk. She got up and wandered outside.
The smell of spring was in the air, and freshness seemed to hang in the clearing. She stretched her arms and took in the sweet smells. When she opened her eyes, she realized the peasant was there-standing at a distance, watching her.
He slowly approached.
He opened his mouth to speak. It was her language, but crude and broken. He was a simple man-uneducated and unrefined. He was, however, kind. Every day, she found her food prepared, and every day he returned from the forest bearing gifts-one day flowers, the next day a bowl carved from wood.
Time passed, and she began to feel almost at home in this hovel. She even felt herself somewhat attracted to this man. She remembered that first night in the woods when she dreamed that her destiny was to spend the rest of her days in the forest. Slowly she made peace with her fate. Within a short time, they married.
Her life in the forest is most difficult. She spends her days weaving, sewing, peeling, and cooking - everything done by hand. And the winters are so harsh: bitter and unending, month after month of frigid cold, and she must wear the coarsest of garments that scratch her skin, yet barely keep out the cold. The only source of heat in the cottage is the fire that dies down after a few hours. Most nights, she wakes up shivering in the cold, and then her mind turns back to her youth, to the life of splendor and luxuries that she always thought would be her future.
What makes it even harder is that while her husband is good to her, none of the things that he brings her makes her happy-they just don’t mean anything. He carves some beads, puts them on a string, and gives them to her, but her mind travels back to the pearls and diamonds that she wore long ago. He cooks some oats mixed with herbs for her, and she remembers the servants carrying in tray after tray of delicacies. Every gift fills her with melancholy as it pulls her back to an earlier life.
The Mesillas Yesharim explains that this is a mashal (parable) to our lives. Part of me is the princess; part of me is the peasant. Each has its needs; each has its purpose. Part of me is a holy spirit that only seeks that which is noble, right, and proper. It came from under Hash-em’s throne of glory, where it enjoyed the most sublime existence. Being of pure intelligence, it desires only to be generous and giving. It aspires to greatness. It was put into this world on a mission and it recognizes the importance and significance of life. Everything great in man comes from this part.