Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Thirteen)

The island’s harbour town was a bustle of activity, sounds, and smells. People were simply everywhere. So much so, it was almost disconcerting, what with all the pushing and shoving of the milling crowds. Although I had left the ship in a group I was now isolated in an ocean of bobbing heads.

I made for a fountain some fifty yards ahead of me. I had hoped it was mounted upon some steps and I would be able to recover the location of my friends from that elevated position. Living in such close proximity with a set group of people, over a period of time, makes one quite dependent upon their presence. I had not appreciated this fact before, but then, isolated as I then felt, it was an undeniable fact.

I was in for a double disappointment, no steps from which to gain elevation and no sign of any familiar faces. Lonely in the throng.

It was still only mid-morning and we were due to spend the night in that harbour. Therefore, there seemed no risk on pushing on inland for a bit of a look around. The dockside warehouses and the area directly next to them slowly morphed into terrace houses lined in long unbroken rows up and down either side of the street. Each house, though built the same way, was distinct in terms of different colour front doors, gardens – some lovingly tended, others neglected as if they had caused some offence.

Children played in and out of the front gardens. Screaming with glee as they ran, while others sat on their haunches spinning tops and playing marbles. Some of the boys, in various stages of dishevelment looked up as I passed and said things like, “hello mister”; the others simply ignored my presence. The girls seemed simply unaware of me or, if they noticed me at all, shied away.

It was only then that it struck me. The whole crowd down at the docks were adults pushing and shoving, shouting and cajoling, while everyone, in that street at least, were all children with not an adult in sight. I stopped and looked around and there was no evidence of any adults in the street, the only human movement came from children. This seemed like a place of strict separation, a demarcation based on what I did not know.

Puzzled but eager to move beyond the town limits, I passed from the presence of the children in to the open fields that bordered that side of the busy conurbation. As suddenly as the buildings ended and town smells faded, immediately the fragrances of the open fields caressed me. I was reminded of how important the natural created world was to my well-being. I felt almost relieved that I could no longer hear human chatter. Even the bubbling enthusiasm of the children was not missed. Now, for the first time in recent memory I was alone apart from the throng.

The blue sky was invaded by lace-like and the most see through of clouds. The grass beneath my feet was soft and lush as if well watered although there was no evidence of recent rain. The trees ahead of me seemed to beckon me closer excited to let me in on some secret. Birds weaved through the open air, their songs expressing a song of liberty of which most men could only dream. I caught sight of small animals in the bushes and evidence of bigger ones could be discerned in amongst the tall grasses and wild flowers.

For the first time since departing the ship, I thought of Shekinah. I felt immediately guilty that he had not been pondered upon at all. In fact, nothing that he had said had made it into my considerations or musings.

How could I be so neglectful? Was he not important in my life, had he not been such an influence for good? These accusing questions assailed me mercilessly. I felt compelled to stop walking and sit down to take time to consider him and what he had shown and taught me on this wondrous voyage.

My mind battled valiantly to get Shekinah into focus, to recall his voice, to mull over his wisdom. A bird swooping, a tree rustling, the sun reflecting of some small body of water, resisted every attempt. The sounds of the field and the woods seemed to mount a determined assault against all that was related to my gracious host.

Guilt welled up within me, as I could not gain for my mind the upper hand in the war. Thoughts of my not being worthy of even being aboard his ship mounted a vicious bombardment and I considered never returning to the Pneuma.

The feelings of ill will towards myself increased shutting out the beauty of my surroundings. The wonder of creation around me faded as images of dogs and old men with silk scarves elbowed and pushed their way to the centre of my attention. Accompanying them were reminders of bad habits and wilfully evil actions that had polluted my life both before and after boarding the Pneuma. I felt horrid, an outcast, one not worthy of all that being aboard that ship promised.

Suddenly, there stood before me a huge proud Stag. His antlers were a declaration of his strength and prowess. His eyes sparkled with a life that I had never seen in mortal men. His entire being seemed to vibrate with vitality and vigour. He bent his noble neck toward me until his face was only inches from mine. What happened next shook me to the very foundations of my being. Established science was overthrown, philosophy bamboozled, and religion firmly put aside. The stag spoke.