Monday, March 14, 2011

Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Eleven)

The time on the hillside had left its mark. My conversation with the man on the bench seemed to have the ability to echo through my mind like a rude man barging into a queue. Even with the sound of the crew above and the knowledge that Shekinah was only feet away, that conversation surfaced like an accuser.

I tossed in my bunk. Sleep would not come although the hour was late. As my eyelids shut that face appeared. There was nothing for it, I got up and clambered to the deck. The night was clear with a stiff breeze coming from astern. The sails that were unfurled were full. I looked up to where Shekinah generally spent his time and saw only the man behind the wheel. Most of the crew were evidently asleep as only a couple of individuals were to be seen.

Suddenly I was aware of someone standing next to me. I did not want to look around but my curiosity overpowered my growing dread. There he was, yellow silk scarf and all. He leaned nonchalantly upon the rail looking out into the night. “I told you that you could depend on me. I felt your disquiet in bed and thought I would pay you a visit. No sign of Shekinah then ...? He divined in a manner intended to intimidate.

I was amazed that no one saw this mischief. Not one crewmember came over to deal with the stowaway. “Had they even seen him?” I asked myself. No one seemed to register the presence of this ‘visitor’.

“Why have you come?” I ventured. Before he could answer, I blurted out, “What made you think you would be welcome here?” “Welcome.” His voice was mocking. “It does not seem that anyone at all is aware of my being here.” The “at all” part of that sentence was a challenge that was difficult to misinterpret.

A difference became apparent to me. In that valley, this interloper was more or less welcoming, give or take the scent of sulphur and the canine presence. Now, he seemed vindictive. His tone was that of a spoilt child who was used to getting its own way in any manner possible. However, he was anything but a child. I really believed he was capable of anything, even there on the deck of the Pneuma.

I chanced a glance towards the upper deck. As I did my companion declared, “He’s not there. Not dependable you see. Unpredictable in the extreme. Just when you need him, he is not there.”

I felt anger rise in me, bubbling and exploding upwards like an emotional Etna. I was about to say something when all of the words seemingly got stuck in my throat and got terribly jumbled up. I tried to speak but only what sounded to me like gibberish came forth. I was losing control so swallowing hard I attempted to compose myself. Again, I made an attempt at speech and only a groan came forth. My whole being ached as if trying to push something out of myself. Dismayed I tried again. Groans, only groans. My silk-scarfed shipmate seemed to giggle.

A song, like one would expect angels to sing, full of reverence and peace. It was a wind song; it must have been for it sounded like the breath of the wind that gave the melody a place to perform. My groaning faded away and so did the old man. He simply faded away. The song brought with it a presence. Immediately Shekinah was there looking down at me from his customary position. The deck was full of sailors going about their tasks smiling in my direction.

I had a sense of a conspiracy being under way. Everybody around me seemed to understand what had just happened. Everybody, that is, except me. Shekinah smiled as he saw I had become aware of what going on without having a clue as to how to explain it all.

I ran uninvited to where he stood. No one tried to stop me. There were no wary, protective glances from any of the crew.

He looked me steadily in the eye and asked, “Are you a little confused?” Thinking that he was querying my charge up toward him I blurted out, “No, I am sorry. I did not mean to offend ...!” “Offend whom?” He returned. “You cannot offend me as you are welcome to be with me as often as you will. No one here will stop you, as I need no protection being beyond the reach of death.”

“I thought I would be safe aboard this ship with you. The fears and doubts of that land could not follow me here, or so I thought.” I am sure I discerned the faintest sigh before he gestured for me to sit with him at the table. We sat and he looked intently at me as if trying to decode some riddle. I then had the most horrid realization of the entire voyage so far. His face was merely reflecting what was in my heart. He was literally showing me what I felt. It was a crushing realization to finally awake to the fact that he not only knew my thoughts, motives and attitudes, but he could also reflect them back at me so I could see what he knew about me and how I appeared to him.

The desire to jump clear off the ship, let alone that deck, was almost more than I could bear. The shame of being so naked before him who had done me no harm and had showed me every kindness.

He leaned forward towards me. “What I see does not change what I know.” He spoke in almost whispered tones. I tried hard not to think anything at all that I might see in the mirror of his face. “Your struggles are clear to me, but it is where you are going to be as a man that I fellowship with.”

All at once, I saw my doubts that surfaced around the old man. My accusative looking around for Shekinah. My dependability on the predictable, the natural, and the finite stood as accusers before me.

“When you stood on that deck below and your words refused to be expressed, when you felt that which was seeking to escape from you and crept out in groans. What do you think was happening? Did you think that the interloper had somehow gained control? Do you consider my magic so weak that one such as him could snatch you away? Those questions assailed me like a siege army storming a nearly defeated city.

I have no recollection of being able to marshal even a single syllable in response. He just said, “Don’t look for me around you only. There is that which is so deep inside that no enemy can comprehend.”