Invitation to Squnch Valley

Somewhere, not very far from here, there is a valley, a peaceful place that you can visit whenever you want — a place to contemplate, explore, imagine, and discover new ideas, old memories, visions, and more. This valley exists in the magic nation of your imagination. To find the way, use your inner eye to see the c hidden in imagination. I magic nation is the magic land within your creative mind.

The wonderful land of Squnches is as high as the hills and as deep as the ocean, as fresh as the grass and as bright as sunlight. There are no telephones, televisions, or computers in the valley. Although there are illustrations in this book, you are encouraged to imagine your own. Once in the valley, you are free to observe, to listen, or to move and become involved.

Squnch Valley is available to the child in us all. Whether you are four or fourteen or forty-four or eighty-four years old, you can become a Squnch. Just close your eyes and visualize. Your vehicle is a shell of your own creation.

Shell Poem

If you could have a shell of your own
Where you could hide
Deep inside
When you are scared,
Or sad, or mad,
Or just when you feel like dreaming alone,
What would it be like?
How big, how small?
How short, how tall?
Would it be bright and sunny
Or shady and funny
Or dark and still?
Would it feel soft and smooth
Or scratchy
Or lumpy and bumpy?
Would it feel hot or cold
Or comfortably enfold?
What color would it be?
One or many,
Or maybe not any?
What would it smell like?
Something nice, like cinnamon and spice?
A garden of flowers,
The ocean,
Or rain?
Fresh mountain air, a forest,
A country lane?
A favorite room, someone's perfume?
Your old teddy bear,
Or cookies baking?
What sounds would there be?
Singing or humming?
Bells ringing,
Drums drumming?
Imagine that shell,
Whether dark or light.
Squnch into that shell.
Be a Squnch, curled up tight.
Wherever you are, whether near or far,
All is well. You're safe in your shell.
Rocking and floating,
Rocking and floating,
Rocking and floating.
Adrift on the lavender sea of tranquility.

The Arrival in Squnch Valley

Somewhere, not very far from here, there is a valley. The valley is surrounded on three sides by purple velvet hills, with a lazy lavender sea on the fourth side. The valley is covered with soft, green grass and flavorful flowers that are very good to eat. There are magic rocks and poet trees and a tiny, shiny puddle that reflects all it sees. In a corner of the valley there is a whispering waterfall that knows all the secrets in the world.

In the purple velvet hills, there lives a gentle Wind. Every day the Wind blows down from the purple velvet hills and dances in the valley. She rolls in the soft green grass, nibbles the flavorful flowers, and swims in the lavender sea. The Wind plays with the magic rocks and picks the poems from the poet trees. She listens to the secrets from the whispering waterfall. And every evening, she looks at herself in the tiny, shiny puddle that reflects all it sees. But all she sees are the ripples she makes.

One day the Wind grows tired of being so nice and gentle. The Wind is angry because she has no one to play with in her beautiful valley. So the Wind blows herself into a gigantic storm. She knocks over the trees and throws the magic rocks. The rocks crush the soft grass. The Wind boils the water of the sea into tremendous waves, which crash across the valley to the purple velvet hills. The Wind tears up the flavorful flowers and blows them away. The waterfall weeps.

When the Wind stops and looks around and sees what she's done, she feels very sad. The valley is a mess.

The Wind straightens the trees and sweeps the water back into the sea. The Wind pushes the rocks back into place. On the crushed grass are shells that the sea has left. And in the shells are the Squnches, curled up all tight and afraid. They are afraid because they've never been out of their shells, and they miss the lullaby of the sea. The Wind calls to them because she knows here are the playmates she has wanted in the valley. But the Squnches are too scared to move. They stay very still in their shells and close their eyes and ears so they cannot hear the Wind.

But the Wind still wants to play, so she begins to tickle the Squnches in their shells, and the Squnches begin to wiggle and giggle in their shells. The more the Wind tickles, the more they wiggle and giggle. And the more they wiggle and giggle, the more their shells shake. Suddenly, from each shell, out pops a head! The eyes on the heads move all around. The ears on the heads hear every sound. The noses on the heads begin to twitch. They smell the flavorful flowers. The Squnches are hungry!

So, from each shell, out pops a hand! And another hand! The fingers on the hands explore the air everywhere. Sometimes they come together and then spring apart. They explore the shells, and they touch the grass. Then, each in its own way, the Squnches slowly move out of their shells. Some roll. Some crawl. Some creep very low. And some are so scared you can barely see them moving at all.

The Squnches creep and crawl in the soft grass. They roll in the grass. They discover the flavorful flowers in the grass and eat and eat until they are full. And then they stop and look up and see the poet trees.

Oh, they want to pick the pretty poems. Slowly, they move to stand on their feet for the very first time. Then they reach up and up, stretching and stretching toward the poems. They jump, trying to reach the poems. They can't quite touch them, but they can reach the branches. They grasp a branch and start to swing, forward and backward, and side to side, gently swaying, feeling the Wind moving all about them as they swing and sway in the poet trees.

Letting go, they land — plop — in the lavender sea, which tosses them this way and that. They are surprised, but soon begin to swim. Sometimes they swim forward on their stomachs, and sometimes they swim on their backs or just lie very still and float.

Tired at last, they crawl out of the sea to rest on the sand. They lie down on the sand. They feel the warm sand under their feet and legs and hands and arms and backs, and they feel the warm sun on their faces and all around them. They hear the gentle Wind singing a lullaby to lull them to sleep as they sink deep into the sun-warm sand.

The Squnches Discover Themselves and Each Other

Introduction

We left the Squnches sleeping on the sand in Squnch Valley in the last story. Now we need to help them wake up. You can all lie down and imagine that you're sleeping in the sand. Imagine that you can feel it under you, and the Wind blowing softly around you.

The Story

The Squnches are sleeping on the sand in the valley. And now the shadows are getting long, and the day is getting ready to end. Gently, the Wind brushes the Squnches awake, touching one on an arm, another on a toe, another on the forehead. The Squnches begin to wiggle and stretch. They stretch their legs. They stretch their backs. Stretching up, they reach their fingertips to the sky until they are standing on tiptoe. They feel their toes in the sand. They wiggle their toes, and they begin to walk, feeling the sand all around their feet. Footprints appear in the sand as they walk.

They see more and more footprints, and legs attached to the feet, making the prints. "Ohhh. Ohhh." They see other Squnch arms and shoulders and heads. Squnch eyes look into other Squnch eyes. Suddenly afraid, they run and squnch back into their shells.

"Well, wait!" cries the Wind. "Please stay and play." But the Squnches are pulling their shells tight around them.

"Oh, what shall I do? Who will help?" And then the Wind sees a little orange cloud. The Wind blows the cloud over the tiny shiny puddle and pinches it.

"Ouch," cries the cloud, dropping a tear into the puddle.

"Oh, cloud, I'm sorry," says the Wind. "I didn't mean to hurt you. But if the Squnches go back into their shells now, they'll never stay and play with me, and I will be so lonely again."

"How sad," says the cloud and drops lots of tears into the puddle.

"Pliddip, pliddip, pliddip," sound the tears.

And now the Squnches are very curious. They are more curious than fearful. They are very curious to know what that sound is. So each Squnch peeks out of its shell. The Squnches see the puddle with the cloud tears falling into it. They hear the sounds the tears are making.

"Pliddip, pliddip, pliddip."

They look up to see where the tears are coming from. They stretch up toward the cloud to catch the tears. The tears fall through their fingers into the puddle. They reach into the puddle to catch the tears, but they just get their hands wet.

Again, and again, the Squnches play with the puddle and the tears from the cloud. At last, they look into the puddle to see where the tears are going. And what do they see? Right! Their own smiling faces looking back at them. They see the other smiling faces, and they are not afraid anymore. They all stand up and reach out to each other. Fingers touch fingers. They like holding hands. They skip and dance around the puddle, and then they dance all around the valley, doing a "hello" kind of dance, greeting each other, and finding more friends.

The Wind, fearing they will get too tired, tickles them back into their shells and rocks them to sleep.

The Squd

One morning, the Squnches are sound asleep in their shells when something comes tap, tap, tapping at their shells. Sleepy Squnches say, "Who's there?" but no one answers, so they go back to sleep. Again, tapping, tapping. Again, "Who's there?" and again, no answer. And again they go back to sleep.

And now the tapping is harder. The Squnches pop sleepy heads out of their shells, but all they see is a lavender mist from the lavender sea, covering their valley. Oh, it seems a very good day to sleep. So, they go into their shells.

But now the tapping comes again, very hard and very persistent. This time, when they look out, something taps them on their heads. And something taps them on their faces. Something taps all around them on the ground.

Of course, you've guessed what it is — it's the rain! The Squnches have never seen rain raining so hard, so they pop out of their shells and run in and out of the raindrops, trying to catch them and then trying not to let the rain catch them!

"Rain tag!" laughs the Wind, as it blows the raindrops every which way.

At last the rain slows, and the Squnches sit down by the tiny, shiny puddle to rest. Only the puddle is not tiny and shiny anymore. It is dense and muddy and colored deep violet. It doesn't reflect their faces, and when the Squnches can't see their reflections, they think they aren't there. They start to look for themselves.

The Squnches search through the lavender mist, but they can't find themselves anywhere. They go back to the puddle and stir the mud, looking for themselves, but no smiling faces appear.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, who is tickling me?"

The Squnches are surprised and freeze when they hear the muddy, glubby voice.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo" again!

"What's that?" the Squnches wonder, looking at one another. "Where is it?" They look all around. And then from the puddle comes a creature all soft and squishy and oozy and squoozy. "Here I am!"

The Squnches back away from the strange creature that is coming from the puddle. They watch warily as it oozes out of the puddle. "Who are you?" they ask.

"I'm the Squd. You tickled me, and tickling makes me laugh. But you're not laughing. You're crying and making my puddle all salty. Oh, you look very sad."

Indeed, the Squnches do look sad. Their heads are hanging. Their backs are round. They seem to be all curled up inside of themselves. But they have stopped backing away. They watch the Squd as he oozes and squoozes and squishes and gooshes. Oh, he seems to be having so much fun! Sometimes he squeezes all up tight, and then oozes in all directions and then pulls himself back together.

"Come play with me," says the Squd, and squoodles their toes. The Squnches wiggle their toes with the Squd, and it makes them laugh.

"Imagine that you are just a blob like me," says the Squd.

The Squnches start doing all the things the Squd is doing. They squeeze into tight little balls. They stretch along the ground until they are long and skinny. They coil, ready to spring. And then up they pop! Springing, springing, and springing all around the valley, bouncing off the ground, sometimes straight up into the air, sometimes twisting as they spring.

Now they stop and slowly melt into the soft grass. They melt and spread in all directions just like the puddle. And then they squeeze and pull themselves back together and then twist and turn! Squeeze! Stretch! Melt! Spread! Squeeze! Sometimes they gently push and press the Squd into shapes and then shape another Squnch!

Sometimes they all come together and make one big shape, and then everyone moves and makes another big shape. And another shape and another shape. Sometimes they hold a shape. And sometimes they flow from one shape into another. Some of the Squnches move around, over, under, and through the together shapes.

The Squnches and the Squd are having lots of fun. But soon the Squnches begin to move slower and slower. And they look sadder and sadder.

"What's the matter?" asks the Squd.

The Squnches start moving around the valley, looking here and looking there. And, again they look into the puddle.

"You're looking for something ... what?" asks the Squd.

The Squnches point into the puddle and down at each other and then at themselves.

"Oh, you're looking for yourselves! Oh, I think I can help you. Just stretch out on the ground on your backs and relax. Close your eyes and feel the ground under you. If you will use your inside eye to see, you will find yourself. Your inside eye is a window to your imagination. Imagination is seeing and being what may not be seeable or doable. It is a matter of feeling. It's feelable.

Slowly the Squnches begin to move, and as they move, they are aware of their whole selves. They don't need to see themselves in the puddle to know they're there. They sit up and look around and smile at each other! They move to their feet. They try out their legs. They wave their arms and roll their heads all around. They bend their bodies, twisting this way and that. They put the moving together and soon are dancing all over the valley, feeling joyful and happy and, most of all, themselves! The lavender mist is gone, and the sun is out.

"Hoo, hoo, hoo" the Squd calls, and the Squnches stop dancing and kneel by the puddle.

"I have to go back into my puddle, or I will dry up and not be able to move anymore. You will always be able to move, if you remember who you are and what you can do. And you won't have to look in the puddle to see yourselves to know you are here. Goodbye. Ha, ha, ha, I'll come to play again someday."

As the Squd disappears into the puddle, the Squnches can see their reflections again.

They wiggle their noses and smile at themselves and at each other. And now they go back into their shells to dream of the Squd and his special magic.

The Awakening of the Music Stars

One starry night, the Squnches are feeling especially safe and secure in their shells in their valley. It is the time when the moon does not shine — after it has faded away to a thin wisp and before it slips back into the night sky. Deep inside the sleeping Squnches, something stirs. At first it is no more than a flitter — a gentle movement — and then a tiny sound. The movement sounds are so soft, so teeny, that the Squnches are not awakened but feel them happening inside — a vibration, a flutter, a beating as soft as hummingbird wings, a sighing like the Wind. Their toes twitch, their fingers wiggle, and the Squnches begin to dream.

They dream of brilliant stars and wondrous colors, shooting across the sky. They hear beautiful sounds that they know they have heard sometime a long time ago. And as they dream, far away in the sky, a special star known as the Maestro Music Star feels a tug on its golden chord. Maestro hears sounds — familiar voices. It follows them. Soon Maestro is hovering just over the purple velvet hills, calling out to the dark valley.

In their dreams, the Squnches are beginning to realize that there are music stars buried deep inside of them that answer the music of the Maestro. These music stars move through the Squnches, tingling their toes and their fingers, opening their hearts, vibrating in their throats, singing in their ears, filling the Squnches with sound and feeling — feelings of longing, feelings of joy, feelings of excitement and promise. The sound of the movements brings them awake. They wiggle their fingers and toes and climb out of their shells. They rub their eyes and begin to stretch and yawn.