Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Two)

I knew I had been on the deck for sometime as the sun was now nearing its zenith. Having said that, time did not seem to be that important out there. It was not something that chased but was rather a tool. I had not noticed the absence of the gulls, a sure sign of being far from land. The gentle sound of the hull riding upon the sea’s back was all that I could hear, all that I wanted to hear for that matter.

That sound was like a calming embrace after some danger had passed.

Looking around I saw the men, if that was indeed what they were, at work. Each kept his eye on the sails and trimmed the same when necessary. No one individual seemed to have sole responsibility for any aspect of the boat. He who was closest to the need did whatever was necessary.

I walked over to the starboard rail, leaned heavily upon it and stretched out as far as I dared to see the water below. As I peered down, there near the surface, a fish raced alongside. I assumed that it was a fish as no man could swim that fast nor be safely so far from shore. I looked again, was it a fish?

The waterfall voice spoke from close behind me, “What did you think that was?” “A fish.” I blurted out half startled and half not wanting to be without an answer. I felt his smile before I saw it. I turned and there before me was golden Shekinah. His eyes, that is what I remember most, saw everything both seen and unseen. There was no judgement there, not even a glimmer of wanting to evaluate or weigh.

“Why a fish?” “Well, I think it can only be a fish, what else could be so far from shore? It was too small to be a whale and it didn’t leap like a dolphin.” His head with its mane of snow-white hair rocked back and from his mouth came laughter such as I had never heard before. Not mocking, not in the slightest, just an expression of extreme enjoyment. My pride, in spite of the contrary evidence, still prompted a defensive response. His eyes levelled with mine. Looking deep within. Not a word from the waterfall. Inside of me, my sense of hurt, birthed of a presumed inadequacy, rampaged forward, up and out in a stream of regret, disappointment and pain. All the schoolyard mocking, the girlfriend embarrassments, the perceived lack of talent fuelled my flow of self-pity.

Shekinah did not move. I was sure he had not even blinked. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the men continuing with their duties, not distracted in the slightest and completely unperturbed. I focussed on the eyes again. He smiled, “Nothing here is as it seems, so do not bring anything from the land onboard”. It was only then that I realized that I had come aboard without luggage, not even a change of shirt. As if he were reading my mind he silently mouthed, “Nothing”. I realized then that he was not speaking of t-shirts, toiletries and trousers.

Suddenly I was alone at the rail. The waterfall voice declared and the pace of the boat quickened. I chanced another look over the rail. That ‘fish’ was still there. Was it a fish? The one eye that was visible to me as it swam on its side drew my attention, it was him, and he winked at me almost mischievously then dived. Gone.
I spun around and there Shekinah was behind the wheel talking with some of the men who were working around him. “How did he do that?” I knew there was a higher magic at work there than any fairground trick I had ever witnessed.

The word ‘magic’ resounded through my being. My religious understanding assumed a war footing as if to expel some evil. “It’s only a word.” I attempted to explain to my now mobilized religiously moulded conscience. It was having none of it. “How can you equate the work of Shekinah with that of evil men playing tricks for harm or reward?”

I had lost the argument. I felt awful, condemned and ready for the gallows. A voice called out from over the side. This time I gingerly peeped over, not knowing what to expect. It was that fish again, or whatever it was. As soon as our eyes met, it spoke silently, “Magic used for evil is that which is stolen, misunderstood, twisted and abused. That which you have witnessed today is a mere taste of what it was intended to be.”

I slumped onto the deck. My back against the boards and I sat, maybe for hours I have no idea, with a thousand assumptions, confusions and falsehoods all running in a tumultuous panic and fumbling for a way of escape.

If these first hours of the voyage were anything to go by, the ship was seemingly on a voyage to discover what was deep inside ... me. That may make some sense now, but back then, I was becoming fearful of what I had undertaken.