Now it was the custom of Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav to take long walks in the forest alone, as did his great-grandfather, the Baal Shem Tov. One day Rabbi Nachman was walking among the majestic trees, deep in thought, when he heard the trill of a bird in the distance. And that melody was so sweet and resonant that Rabbi Nachman hurried farther into the forest, in the hope that he might catch a glimpse of the bird that had such a beautiful song. He traveled an untold distance, ignoring the way as he went, so great was his curiosity. But although his ears sought out the slightest sound, the forest was strangely silent, and Rabbi Nachman did not hear as much as a rustling leaf, for even the wind seemed to be holding its breath.
At last Rabbi Nachman concluded that he had set off in the wrong direction, and in despair he sat down at the base of one of those towering trees, whose upper branches seemed to reach into heaven. Perhaps because he was leaning there, a verse from Proverbs suddenly came into his mind: The Torah is a Tree of Life to those who cling to it, and at that moment a feather fluttered down through the branches of that tree, and fell beside Rabbi Nachman where he sat, and at the same instant he heardclearly the haunting trill of the bird that had lured him to that place. Then Rabbi Nachman jumped up and searched in the branches, in the certainty that the bird must be in that tree, but nothing was to be seen. He continued to look long after it was apparent that the bird had eluded him once more, then he sat down and picked up the feather, and was amazed to discover it was golden, and that it shone in the sun like a mirror. And when he saw that golden feather he knew it must have come from the bird with the enchanting song, and once again he was overwhelmed with longing to seek it out. But then Rabbi Nachman noticed that the rays of the sun were slanted through the trees and realized that the afternoon was coming to an end. He knew very well how dangerous it would be to be caught in the forest after dark, and with great reluctance he left that place and made his way back. Then, to his amazement, he seemed led as if by an unseen guide, for he flew through the forest as if he had made his home there all of his days, and before the sun reached the horizon he emerged from it, with the golden feather in his hand.
And with one look backward, he returned to his home in Bratslav.
Nor did he reveal the events of that day to anyone. And that night, before he went to sleep, he placed the golden feather beneath his pillow.
So it was that no sooner did Rabbi Nachman fall asleep than he found himself in the forest once again, the golden feather still in his possession. In the distance he saw a circular pool and realized he was very thirsty. He went to the pool, bent down, and drank from the clear water, which satisfied him to his soul, and when he stood up he saw in the water the reflection of the golden bird, flying overhead, more wonderful than anything he had ever imagined. But when he raised his eyes, it had already disappeared.
And once again Rabbi Nachman knew he could not rest until he had seen that bird with his own eyes. And then he woke up- All the next day Rabbi Nachman wondered if he would be permitted to continue that night the quest for the golden bird that had so far evaded him. For he sensed that nothing would be served by searching for it in the forest outside Bratslav, but that it was his destiny to seek out that bird in the kingdom of dreams.
And that night, as he slept, it did happen that he found himself walking in the forest once more. This time he reached a place where he glimpsed a garden in the distance. But no matter whence he tried to approach it, it would vanish before he was able to find an entrance. And each time the garden reappeared, Rabbi Nachman heard the haunting song of the golden bird, which pierced him to his soul. And he knew that if he could only find a way to enter that garden, he might well find the golden bird, for no other could have such an unearthly song. Yet although he continued to glimpse the garden from time to time, he was never able to find any entrance, no matter how many times he circled the area in which it appeared.
It was then Rabbi Nachman remembered the golden feather, and how it had shone like a mirror in the sun. He took it out, holding it so that it faced the direction in which he had glimpsed the garden, and saw at once that in the mirror of the golden feather the garden did not disappear from his sight, but remained clearly in his view. Then he circled the garden once more, this time viewing it from the mirror of the feather, and in this way he was able to discern the gate, previously invisible.
And he saw how that gate opened and closed in the blink of an eyelash. So he made his way there, and stood before the gate and closed his eyes, and when he opened them he found, to his dismay, that he had awakened. Once more the dream had ended before he had achieved his goal. But this time he was confident that the quest had not come to its end, and that he might still find his way into the garden of the golden bird.
So it was that when Rabbi Nachman closed his eyes to sleep on the third night, he opened them to find himself standing inside that glorious garden, where he heard the haunting song of the golden bird clearly once more. And in the distance he saw a tree so wide he estimated it would take a five hundred years' journey to travel around it. Beneath the tree flowed four streams, which spread throughout the garden, one in each direction. And high in that tree Rabbi Nachman saw the golden bird, glowing in the branches like a golden star. And when the bird started to sing, its song carried his soul to the heights.
It was then Rabbi Nachman saw a man walking in the garden.
The man's face was glowing, and his eyes cast such a great light that they seemed to illumine the path on which he walked.
This man approached Rabbi Nachman, who cast down his eyes, knowing he was in the presence of a holy man. And the man said: Welcome to this garden, Rabbi Nachman. I have been waiting for you to arrive ever since you found the golden feather, for I knew you would not rest until you found the bird from which it came. As for me, I am the gardener here; it is my blessing to tend the sacred fruits and flowers and to see that they grow ripe. And Rabbi Nachman said: Peace be with you. I had longed to find one who could guide me in this enchanted place, and who knows the ways of the garden better than the gardener? But tell me, what is your name, and how is it that you have come to tend this garden? The man said: I am the Ari. Just as I was a gardener of the Torah, and found the hidden meanings buried beneath the surface, and understood how scattered sparks can take root and bring forth a harvest of abundance, so it is that I have been rewarded by being made gardener of this garden, in which the golden bird makes its home. Rabbi Nachman was overwhelmed to find himself in the presence of the Ari, as Rabbi Isaac Luria, of blessed memory, was known. At first Rabbi Nachman was silent, but then he found the courage to speak, for at last he had the opportunity to discover the secret of the golden bird, whose golden feathers reflected in the sunlight like the facets of a jewel, and whose melody had lured him the way a flame attracts a moth. And he asked if the Ari could share this secret, and the Ari said in reply: That golden bird, Rabbi Nachman, is the beloved bird of the Messiah. For the song of that bird translates the prayers of Israel into a haunting music that fills the heavens. It was then that Rabbi Nachman suddenly remembered something that had completely slipped his mind until that moment.
It was a tale about his great-grandfather, the Baal Shem Tov, who once was praying with his Hasidim when he prolonged the Eighteen Benedictions for such a long time that his Hasidim grew impatient, and one by one departed from the House of Prayer. Later the Baal Shem told them that by leaving they had brought about a great separation. For while the Baal Shem he had prayed he had ascended the ladder of their prayers to reach a place where he had seen a vision of a golden bird, whose song could not but bring peace of mind to all who heard it. And he was certain that if such a song were brought to the world of men, it would surely bring peace everywhere it was heard. And the Baal Shem told them that by stretching forth his hand he had come within reach of taking the bird from that tree. But just then the ladder of their prayers had broken, and he had fallen back to this world as the bird flew away.
Then the Ari, who could read Rabbi Nachman's thoughts, spoke and said: Yes, this is the same golden bird that the Baal Shem saw. Nor was it any accident that his Hasidim. grew impatient, for heaven made certain of this, so that the Baal Shem would not succeed in taking the bird before the time had come for the Messiah to be born among men. For it is in this garden that the Messiah makes his home, and that is why his palace is known as the Bird's Nest, for it is the song of that bird that sustains the worlds above and below. The Messiah enters that hidden abode on New Moons and holy days and on the Sabbath, for that is when the bird leaves this enchanted tree and returns to its nest. And all the while the bird sits in its nest it sings, and the Messiah glories in its song, which contains the essence of a hundred thousand prayers. Had the Baal Shem succeeded in bringing back even one golden feather, peace would have followed for many generations. And had he brought back the golden bird, the Messiah would surely have followed, so little can he bear being separated from its song. Now Rabbi Nachman was startled when he heard this and became very solemn, for like the Baal Shem he longed for nothing more than that the Messiah should usher in the End of Days.
At last he said to the Ari: What if I should attempt to bring the golden bird out of this garden? But no sooner had he spoken these words than a sudden wind arose, and plucked the golden feather from his hand, and carried it off, so that Rabbi Nachman knew that it was gone. Nor was that warning lost on him, for he recognized he might be expelled from the garden as swiftly as that feather in the wind. Then the Ari replied: You, Rabbi Nachman, have entered this kingdom as a dreamer, while the Baal Shem came here as one awake. Therefore that path is closed to you, for even if you succeeded in capturing the golden bird, you could not carry it beyond the gate of the kingdom of dreams. At the very instant you touched its feathers, you would find yourself alone and empty-handed in the world of men, and all that has transpired so far would be lost to you, like a dream lost between sleeping and waking. Now Rabbi Nachman was not surprised to hear these words, for he had not forgotten that he had entered the kingdom of dreams. And the last thing he wanted was to be expelled from it. Then he said to the Ari: But tell me, if I am permitted to know—how may I make my way back to this garden in order to hear the sacred song of the golden bird as it translates the prayers that ascend from the world below? Nor does it matter if I come here as a dreamer or as one awake, as long as I am permitted to be in its presence and to hear that haunting melody. The Ari smiled and said: For you that will be very simple, Reb Nachman. You need only turn to the verse in which it is written that The Torah is a Tree of Life, and it will serve as your key to this kingdom. For on that night you will travel to this world in a dream, and share in the presence of the golden bird and the song that transforms the prayers of men, which as you see, are themselves the keys of heaven. And no sooner did the Ari finish speaking than Rabbi Nachman awoke and found himself in the world of men once more.
But this time he did not feel the quest was incomplete; on the contrary, he understood that his roots among the living were just as deep as those that drew him to the world above, where the song of the golden bird filled the heavens. And from that time on his Hasidim noticed that Rabbi Nachman left the Holy Scriptures by his bed every night, opened to the Psalms. And from that time on they also noticed a divine smile that could be seen on his lips and in his eyes when he awoke. And all who knew him marveled at how peaceful he was every morning, as if he had returned from a journey to a faraway kingdom of peace.