The Huluppu Tree

Plant mystical roots in this reimagining of the Mesopotamian myth of Inanna and the Huluppu Tree.

In tonight’s bedtime story, as you are tending to your garden on the banks of the river, a sapling washes ashore. You plant the unfamiliar tree and admire its qualities, hoping to carve it into a majestic throne once it is fully grown. However, you soon find your tree overrun with animals and spirits who seek to make it their home. You enlist your brother’s help to remove your rivals, and he fashions for you a magnificent throne and bed from the tree; yet you come to regret its destruction. At last, with new seeds in the earth, you learn the tree’s true impact on your community, and you make amends with its former residents.

If you’re still awake at the end of the story, I’ll guide you through a relaxing visualization.

Music/Sound: A Glimpse of Avalon by Flouw, Thymotic Moments by Bruce Brus, Epidemic Sound

Transcript

Plant mystical roots in this reimagining of the Mesopotamian myth of Inanna and the Hulupu tree.

Sleep and Sorcery is a folklore and fantasy-inspired sleep series.

My name is Laurel,

And I'll be your guide on tonight's fantastical journey.

Sleep and Sorcery is one part bedtime story,

One part guided meditation,

And one part dreamy adventure.

Listen to my voice for as long as you like,

And when you're ready,

Feel free to let go of the story and make your way into sleep.

If you're still awake at the end of the story,

I'll guide you through a soothing visualization In tonight's bedtime story,

As you are tending to your garden near the banks of the river,

A sapling washes ashore.

You plant the unfamiliar tree,

Hoping to carve it into a majestic throne once it is fully grown.

However,

You soon find your tree overrun with animals and spirits who seek to make it their home.

You enlist your brother's help to remove your rivals,

Yet you come to regret the tree's destruction.

At last,

With new seeds in the earth,

You learn the tree's true impact on your community,

And you make amends with its former residents.

Your hands seize the seven fixed powers,

My queen of fundamental forces,

Guardian of essential cosmic sources.

You lift up the elements,

Bind them to your hands,

Gather empowers,

Press them to your breast,

And headwanna,

The exaltation of Inanna.

Before this becomes your story,

It belongs to the tree.

Every tree has a story,

And it seals that story into the patterns in its bark and leaves for us to decipher and dream.

Many trees tell similar stories,

But the wise can distinguish that no two tales are exactly alike.

This tree's story began like countless others in the ground,

But the world had rather ambitious designs for it.

Once,

This tree was a seed in the soil of another world,

Beyond the river and the sea.

The seed burst,

Overflowing with potential,

And sprouted above the ground,

Small and vulnerable.

That was when it met the sun,

Whose name the tree did not know,

And yet,

It revered the star as much as any priest of the sun god.

The tree was brave,

Sending its roots deep in search of water in the ground,

And it unfolded its first fronds,

Thinking itself beautiful.

It must have been very lovely indeed,

Because one day,

It was dug up and placed on a boat on the river.

A prize,

The one who takes the tree from its first home is Enki,

The wise traveler and lord of the Apsu,

The sacred groundwater.

It will be a gift to his people,

For Enki can see that the tree will grow to bear delicious fruit that even Enki,

Whose domain is the freshwater sea beneath the soil,

Cannot control the waters that fall from the sky.

His boat is tossed and pummeled by rain,

Which falls in torrents and raises the waves high,

Until,

At last,

The vessel is overturned.

The river,

Which answers to Enki,

For it originates in that subterranean sea,

Carries him to safety on the nearest shore,

But the tree travels onward on the fierce current.

Its roots drink the waters of the Euphrates and the waters that continue to fall in the tempest.

It braces its slender trunk and its young branches.

The tree fears it might be dashed to pieces in the rapids,

But it holds its strength until the waters calm,

And then,

Under a pink dawn,

It is brought lovingly to the banks of the river and washed ashore.

It languishes there,

Collapsed by river waves,

And then you come.

The storm that raged throughout the night is past,

And you emerge from your house to sparkling sun.

The moisture left behind is swiftly evaporating into mist,

Which will not linger long.

Soon,

It will be warm and dry again,

And you will yearn for shade.

Your feet are bare.

You like to feel the grass between your toes,

And the damp sand on the shallow bank,

Rocking gently against the sand,

Is an unfamiliar visitor,

A sapling,

Its roots exposed but holding strong,

And its branches battered,

But still clinging to a single frond.

It is a very young tree,

And one you've never seen before.

You suppose,

Even under the circumstances,

The tree is beautiful,

And now it has a chance.

What fortuitous grace,

You think,

Has brought it right to the foot of your garden,

With the tenderness of one cradling a little child.

As you lift the dripping sapling from the banks,

And carry it through the gates,

There is a little plot behind the plentiful roses,

Where you have not yet planted anything for the season.

If the tree is to survive,

It will make a striking centerpiece for your beloved garden.

It may even provide the shade you so crave in this oasis.

You dig diligently,

And secure the root ball in the hole you make,

Then covering it with damp soil.

Your hands absorb some of the water carried by the tree from the Euphrates river,

And somehow by this contact,

You feel you come to know some of its story.

It's as if the droplets make the shapes of the tree's memories,

Deep in your mind.

You can see the streaks of lightning,

And the overturned boat.

You can faintly see a distant shore,

A far away place.

Memories are only images,

Only feelings that evoke a history.

You wonder if the tree can feel your memories,

Like trickling water around its roots,

Too.

But now,

As your fingers travel,

Reverent over the narrow trunk,

You find more secrets singing through the bark.

The tree is supple,

And springs against your palms.

Responding to you,

You can feel its potential,

The first spark of the fruit it will bear,

The song of the sap in its core.

The tree is small,

So very young still,

But already you imagine it reaching its full height,

Towering over the garden and projecting long shadows across the desert.

Already you know the sweetness of the shade it will cast,

And the thought comes to you,

What a mighty throne you might carve from such a magnificent tree.

What a luxurious bed you might craft from its trunk and branches.

Each day you come,

Barefoot,

To the garden.

You come at sunrise,

When the morning star winks through sheer mist.

You tend to your roses,

Prickly beauties that they are,

And gather sweet mint.

Every day you observe the subtle changes in the tree that washed ashore,

Whose roots must be very strong,

As it stands firmer and taller with time.

The year ages,

And the seasons shift,

Soon harvest is upon you,

And the great festivals in the city.

These bring visitors to your garden,

They marvel at the unusual specimen at its center.

Already the youthful tree is replenishing its lost fronds and sparkling with green.

Its bark grows rough and spay-like,

No visitor has ever seen the like of it,

You find.

Soon its name arrives on the autumn winds,

This is the Hulupu tree.

The tree only continues to grow,

Surviving the winter heartily,

And bursting anew with fresh fronds in the spring.

Taller and taller it climbs,

Daring to tickle the undersides of clouds,

Until its shade makes the heart of your garden a welcome escape from summer's heat.

You sit beneath it to think,

Or to compose poetry and song,

To light fires,

And talk with others of love and war.

Time slips by,

And months turn into years.

The tree strengthens and stretches higher still,

Its trunk widening to a formidable girth.

In its fifth year,

The Hulupu tree bears its first fruits,

A whole bundle of them.

These are sweet,

Tender morsels with the taste of prosperity.

They appear with such abundance that you send baskets upon baskets to the city,

Allowing them to share in the tree's gifts,

Sometimes while sitting in your garden and snacking on the exquisite fruits.

You recall that you once had an ambition to cut the tree down and fashion from it a throne and a bed.

You can no longer imagine doing such a thing.

You can no longer imagine your garden without its fronds to shade you,

Its fruits to nourish you,

And its trunk to lie against.

For five more years,

The tree brings plentiful fruit to the river valley,

Feeding hundreds each season.

The summer comes again in the tree's tenth year,

And with it comes a blistering heat.

You carry water from the river to the gates of your garden,

Offering more than usual to your plants.

Their thirst is palpable,

And even your hearty tree at the center browns lightly at the edges.

As you bend to pour the water over its roots,

The dampened soil seems to dry before your eyes.

You will need to go back to the river once more,

You think,

But as you turn,

You catch in the corner of your vision a pair of eyes peeking from under a thin layer of soil.

You try to get a better look,

But the creature flees swiftly from your gaze,

Disappearing into a knot of roots and dirt.

You see just enough of the long,

Curved body to deduce that it is a serpent.

Now burrowing deep into the spaces between the tree's roots,

This serpent will drink the water I offer,

You think.

It will steal nutrients from my beloved hulupu tree.

So you whisper a prayer to your older sister,

Nareshkigal,

Queen of the Night and the Underworld,

Begging her to banish the serpent from the roots of your hulupu tree.

But your sister is not listening.

She sends no aid.

A new day dawns,

And when you come bearing water on your shoulders for the tree,

You find another unexpected resident high up in the branches,

Between the fronds.

Now there is a nest,

Made from the thorned brambles of your roses and other debris.

In the nest sits a resplendent bird,

Nearly the size of a man,

With the glorious wings of an eagle and the head of a lion.

This,

You know,

Is Anzu,

The great storm bird whose roar can summon thunder.

He preens and cleans his feathers,

The tree swaying subtly beneath his weight.

Then he stretches out his neck and plucks one of the tree's ripe fruits in his mouth.

He devours several more,

Letting others drop to the ground at your feet.

This bird will destroy my harvest,

You think.

He will eat all the sweet fruits that feed my people in the city.

You cast your eyes to the heavens and cry out a prayer to your twin brother,

Utu,

God of the sun,

Asking him to banish the Anzu from your tree.

But he ignores your plea and only beats down with summer heat.

The next day,

You return with water from the river.

You stoop to pour it over the roots,

Muttering your displeasure with the serpent in the soil and the bird in the branches.

You try to put them out of your mind,

To lean against the trunk of the tree and meditate,

Hopeful of restoring your peace of mind.

But something is different about the trunk against which you sit.

It does not respond to you in the same way.

You knock against the bark,

The quietest echo comes from within.

The tree,

It seems,

Is hollow as it was not just yesterday.

You circle round its base until you find a splinter-thin split in the trunk through which you peer presently.

There,

In the hollowed-out trunk of your tree,

Someone else has made a home.

All you can see in the darkness are her eyes.

And these are eyes you know,

Owl-like and dark in color.

This is the wind-spirit Lilith,

Once your cherished and devoted friend.

Now she resides in the hollow of your tree.

This is too deep a betrayal.

She will kill my tree from the inside out,

You think.

Already you have been ignored or spurned by your two most powerful siblings.

But another dwells nearby.

Your brother,

Gilgamesh,

King in the city of Uruk.

You haven't called on him for a favor in a long time,

But perhaps he will be the first to answer your plea.

By now,

You're willing to do anything to save your adored Hulubu tree.

The last time you spoke,

You informed him of your plans to build a throne and a bed from its trunk.

You go to the gates of his palace,

Where you are admitted without question when the king's guard sees the eight-pointed star in your crown.

You find Gilgamesh in a sunny courtyard,

Licking his fingers after savoring another of the sticky,

Dried fruits you sent him.

This,

You think,

Is a good omen.

He loves the lush fruit your tree bears,

And he will be inclined to save it.

You do not know that the serpent,

Winding its way round the tangle of roots beneath the earth,

Is creating pockets of air in the soil,

Spaces for growth and renewed absorption of resources.

You do not know that the serpent is only yearning for a place of safety,

And that it lives in harmony with the tree.

You do not know that the Ansu eats only the fruit unfit for human consumption,

Letting the rest fall for an easier harvest.

You do not know that when it flies,

It spreads the seeds of your tree beyond the gates of the garden.

You do not know that Lilith has preserved the terminal heart of the tree and made her hollow at the least vulnerable point.

You do not know that when her winds blow in the night,

They shake the leaves and carry the seeds of the Hulupu tree across great distances.

These are secrets only the tree knows,

And it takes one of great wisdom to listen to the stories of the trees.

And so,

When Gilgamesh,

Full of righteous rage as he comes to the gates of your garden,

Prepares to banish the creatures and spirits who have taken up residence within your tree,

You do not know the damage he will cause.

He is a proud man,

After all,

And one who loves to play the hero.

He is strong,

And he tends to become swept up in the dance of might and excess.

He does not always listen carefully to the concerns of others.

Caring more for his own glory and stake,

Coursing with adrenaline,

And seeing the many eyes of bird,

Snake,

And spirit peering out from the corners of your well-loved tree,

Gilgamesh throws his arms around the trunk and pulls the majestic arbor up from the ground.

You look on in silent distress,

Unable to cry out for your brother to stop,

And knowing it's too late to save the tree,

Did he not hear your outpouring of love for the Hulupu tree?

Your ardent desire to help it grow for another hundred years or more?

Your gratitude for its gifts to the people?

He shakes it with all his might,

Loosening the serpent's coil around the roots.

The creature disappears into the ground.

Lilith shrieks and flees the hollow,

Vanishing into the wide wilderness with a bluster of wind.

The Anzu,

Lion-headed eagle,

Takes wing,

His nest in tatters.

All the residents of your tree are now scattered to the winds,

But the sorry thing lies dormant on the ground.

You kneel and weep for the tree,

Your tears drying in the soil.

Gilgamesh is puzzled at first,

Then his eyes fill with sorrow and regret there might have been a chance to plant the great tree again in the ground,

But all the commotion has damaged the roots and the structure.

It was such a beautiful tree.

Realizing what he has done,

Your brother is eager to make it up to you.

He will build the throne and bed you once so desired,

He insists,

And then you will be connected to the tree and its memory for all your days.

You agree to his proposal,

But you cannot bear to see a single inch of the tree go to waste,

So you harvest what is left of the fruit and send it in baskets to the people in the city of Uruk.

You peel long strips of the bark to weave those baskets.

From the sap,

You make a sweet syrup for flavoring wines and cakes.

You dry the fronds and leaves.

Weaving the fibers into rope and textile and the heart of the tree.

You cook for a decadent feast.

The hulupu tree makes wonderful foods,

Domestic items,

And medicines.

And its reach stretches far.

It does good work in your community for all the sorrow at its loss.

For Gilgamesh,

You fashion a ceremonial drum and stick from the crown of the tree and he at last carves the majestic throne from its base and your luxurious bed.

You find untroubled sleep beneath the quilts and blankets in your hulupu tree bed.

You remember Lilith,

The wind spirit who made her house in the tree's hollow.

You wonder if she felt the same tranquility which you find nestled here.

The polished wood of the bed still smells faintly of the sugary sap riding on the scent like rapids of tempest-tossed river.

The tree's story sings through your dreams.

Some nights,

When you sleep,

You seem to grow wings,

Loosening your roots from the ground and floating untethered through a moonlit sky.

Other nights,

Beyond the gates of the dream world,

You light small fires in your garden and the shadow of the tree looms overhead.

Or,

You travel deep into the earth,

Calling out the name of your sister,

Ereshkigal,

And blessing the roots you encounter for the first time through the veil of sleep.

You come to understand how your rivals cared for and benefited the tree.

These dreams feel like memories,

And like prophecies.

Each morning you wake with a new longing,

Though it takes you many nights and many mornings to know its object.

Finally,

When the harvest comes again,

Another year aging and turning to sleep,

You wake with fresh knowing.

You understand now what you have so longed for,

Though you might not have believed it from your garden oasis.

You call to the winds,

The earth and the sky.

You call back the serpent.

You call back the Anzu.

You call back the wind spirit,

Lilith.

You ache to see their faces,

For they loved the Hulupu tree just as you did,

And they made their homes in its generous shade.

You want to forgive them,

And more so,

You want them to forgive you.

The tree never belonged to you,

And you've seen firsthand its impact on the wider community.

What friends you and the tree's residents might have become,

Had you only overcome your greed.

And had the tree continued to grow,

You hope they hear your call,

Chanting a dirge.

They meet you at the crossroads of the house of sighs.

You wear the eight-pointed star.

Anzu is the winged one who calls the thunder,

Lilith,

The wildest wind,

Serpent,

Traveler in the earth and water.

Here,

Where once the Hulupu tree grew and let fall its shade in all directions,

A circle cast.

Here,

Where the waters of the Euphrates once nourished the spiral roots,

Where wind shook its leaves,

Where flyers were made at its base for the sharing of stories,

Where you all,

Winged or no,

Found your footing,

So to speak.

The four of you are older now,

Not wiser,

But wilder.

There are four of you here,

But more are present,

If unseen.

Utu,

The sun god,

Glistens from the above.

Ereshkigal,

Queen of the underworld,

Glistens from the below.

All stories meet at the center.

Your gathering is a funeral for the Hulupu tree,

A space for imagining its last dream.

When the tree released its roots,

You wonder,

Did it imagine itself rising up to the clouds?

Did it find pleasure or regret in the memory of your time together,

Or its long travels over the waters?

You present each of your friends with a Hulupu wand,

And these you burn to release your regrets.

The smoke climbs a spiral,

Like roots,

In reverse,

But the great Hulupu tree is with you still,

Listening from the below.

You do not know that it released seeds,

And that already they are gathering warmth inside their shells,

Storing up secrets and nutrients for the coming winter.

Those seeds traveled on the serpent's back to nestle deep in the soil.

They clung to the wings of Ansu,

Who scattered them unwitting over the world.

They shook from Lilith's hair into the wide wilderness,

Where they'll one day find relationship with the other trees,

Creatures,

And fungi of the forest.

They'll be home someday to owls and insects.

They will feed thousands with their fruit,

And heal many hurts with the medicine they make.

You do not know that you have already watered the seeds with your tears.

The Hulupu's countless children wait in the ground for renewed spring.

What's lost can be found again.

Home can be restored.

This dirge,

This reunion is proof.

You are the circle,

The roots,

The branches,

And the legacy.

You are home.

After this is your story,

It will once again belong to the trees,

The mature ones that whisper in wondrously tall groves,

The saplings that weather storms in river valleys,

And the ones that wait in the ground,

A universe of potential within the shells of tiny seeds gathering warmth,

Waiting to birth anew.

Come to stillness,

And soften your mind,

Soften your inner gaze,

Notice the sounds that surround you,

The sounds in this room,

In the building,

Outside the building,

And far off in the distance.

Simply notice them,

And then let them dissolve into a low background,

Take a deep breath in with the energy of the land around you,

Hills,

Mountains,

Plains,

Desert,

Or coast,

And breathe out,

Softening,

Feeling the energy of the earth,

Strong,

Supportive,

Yet supple,

Shifting imperceptibly,

Vibrating with invisible change,

Take another deep breath in with the energy of the waters around you,

Rivers,

Lakes,

Reservoirs,

Or oceans,

And breathe out,

Letting go of tension,

Feeling the energy of the waters,

The emotion and constant movement of waves,

Ripples,

Rapids,

And reflections.

Take a third deep and cleansing breath with the energy of the sky,

The clouds,

The wind,

The air,

And the far away stars,

And breathe out,

Releasing any worry,

Feel the limitless energy of the sky,

Expansive,

Generous,

And all-seeing,

Let your breath return to a natural rhythm,

And begin to visualize,

If you like,

A garden,

An oasis,

In the desert,

At the brink of sunset,

The garden is lush and beautiful,

Bordered by roses and ferns.

When you're ready,

In your mind's eye,

Approach the garden gate,

Adorned with peacocks,

And pass through,

Leaving behind the dry desert for this place of growth,

Abundance,

And water.

There is a crystal clear pool of water at the center,

And a tall,

Majestic tree growing beside it,

Throwing shade over the garden.

This is a place of absolute tranquility and sacred solitude.

Walk slowly around the edge of the pool,

Noticing the luxuriant plants that grow around it,

And in all the corners of the garden,

Let your mind fill in this space with herbs,

Flowers,

And foliage.

Notice how it feels to let your feet fall against the grass as the earth springs back,

As if anticipating your footsteps.

Continue to walk the garden in a circle which widens as you repeat the perambulation so that you make a spiral path,

Spinning outward from the pool at the center.

Pick up the scent of roses in the atmosphere,

Listen to the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.

Understand that this garden is a sacred place,

A pathway beyond the ordinary,

Where time slows down and all is quiet growth and exquisite peace,

A place of rejuvenation.

As you continue to walk your spiral path,

Allow any thoughts,

Worries,

Or cares to simply fall away like unneeded layers,

Leaving you feeling light,

Unburdened,

And pure when it feels right.

Complete your last spiral circle around the garden,

Let your mind come to stillness for a moment,

Sensing your connection to the earth.

Then,

In your mind's eye,

Reverse the spiral,

Traveling inward instead of outward,

Deepening the journey into yourself,

And also moving slowly closer to stillness and sleep.

As you move inward,

Finally approach the pool and the tree at the center of the garden.

As you peer into the reflective surface of the pool,

Become aware that night has fallen over the desert.

See the moon,

Reflected bright in the still water,

And a single star nearby.

This is the star of the morning,

And the evening,

And the planet Venus.

Observe her beauty in the reflecting pool,

And then,

Turn your mind's gaze upward toward her celestial position,

And notice how the image of her in the sky differs from its reflection below.

Breathe in the scent of evening in the garden,

Breathe out.

Turn your inner awareness now to the tree beside the garden pool.

What kind of tree do you see in your mind?

There is no wrong answer,

If you like.

Put your hand against the tree,

Noticing the texture of its bark.

Observe any visible roots.

Gaze upward to its limbs,

Noticing whether it has green leaves or colorful ones ready to fall.

Is the tree flowering or bearing fruit?

How does the wind sound as it travels through the branches?

When you're ready,

Visualize yourself sitting down beside the tree,

Maybe with your back against its trunk.

Feel it pressing back,

Supporting you.

Breathe.

Soften into the tree,

Trusting that it will hold you.

Sense the depth of its roots,

The tree's strength,

And its ambitious reach into the sky.

Feel how your breath creates an exchange with this tree and with all the luscious plants of this garden in the heart of the desert.

Breathe in deeply,

Thanking the plants for their gifts,

Breathe out slowly,

Offering your own gifts in return.

Feel the harmony in which you coincide,

Like gentle music that rises and falls with your shared breath.

Let the tree nourish you,

Drawing nutrients from the land,

Water,

And sky to replenish itself and you by extension,

Filling you with new,

Serene energy,

Charging your batteries,

So to speak,

So that when you wake,

You'll feel rested,

Rejuvenated,

And content.

Breathe in with the energy of the roots curled deep in the soil,

And breathe out with gratitude for the land.

Breathe in with the energy of the trunk drawing up the waters to feed the fruit and flower of your tree,

And breathe out with gratitude for the water.

Breathe in with the energy of the highest branches,

Sweetly touched by the passing winds,

And breathe out with gratitude for the sky,

Blessed be.

Reviews

Beautifully told as always. You create such a magical space

Thank you for this!!

So beautiful 🌺🙏🏻🌸

Fell asleep almost immediately! But loved the little bit i heard! I’ll be baaaaack! 💙🙏🌳

Love your work your work. Soothing and spiritual presentation.