Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Nine)

The realization of being very alone came as a sobering shock. One minute he was there along with the watchers and then, as if they were never there at all, they were all gone.

Since first boarding the Pneuma, I had never experienced such aloneness. It was not isolation, I felt there was so much life around me in that wood, but I was alone in the sense that meaningful, heartfelt communication no longer seemed possible. With whom was I going to speak?

Gradually the direction of the gentle wind that was blowing changed. It began to blow away from the town and, it seemed, around the hill and further in land. I felt that I should go in that direction as well. At least, on that occasion, I was able to walk at a more comfortable pace.

The wind seemed to follow a path worn out of the grass just below the tree line. To my left was open grassland flowing down to the sea and, a little behind me the town and the harbour. The wind grew steadily stronger moving the tall grass in a pattern similar in appearance to waves upon the ocean when viewed from a high vantage point. To my right was the wood. Each tree stood close to its neighbour and in between the proud trunks were bushes in amongst tall grass. My pathway navigated a route between these two landscapes. White cotton wool clouds followed overhead. From time to time, they shielded me from the sun as they sailed the sky.

All was silent, save the wind playing in the grass and leaves. It was quiet but not peaceful. As the town disappeared behind the hill, I was aware of something among the trees keeping pace with me. I felt no immediate threat, just disquiet brought on by the unknown, and the unseen.

My pace quickened, as did that of my invisible and unwanted companion. My mind began to conjure images of was tracking me from beyond the tree line. “Would an animal quicken and then slacken pace exactly at the moment that I did?” I stopped. Listened. I heard nothing save the wind at play. It never entered my mind to turn around and go back to the ship. I just felt I had to push on, to where I had no idea.

For a moment I thought, almost believed in fact, that I was alone once more. “Perhaps my ‘friend’ had tired of my standing still and going nowhere.” I thought. As I recommenced my walk that delusion proved short lived. My footfalls were partners to a faint padding sound, like that made by a large mammal such as a lion. For a while, I hoped that it was a lion there in the woods. I had read long ago about a lion who governed another world. I hoped against hope that it was he. I then awoke to the idea that the lion in question was in a storybook and stories are just that, stories.

The hill seemed to go on forever; those hills did not look that big from the harbour. I looked behind me and all I could see was the sea, even the grasslands had fallen away. Thankfully, I came upon a fallen tree, long dead. Its trunk hollowed out by a million insects over many years. I sat and faced the sea in a vain attempt to ignore the existence of the woods and the sense of growing threat that they held.

Suddenly, to my left, a huge dog appeared. Head held low, tail down. It was nondescript as far as what breed it may have been. Its coat was coal black, its countenance sullen. The lower jaw was only slightly apart from the upper. As the canine walked, it held my gaze with cold grey eyes. It walked along an invisible circumference, never coming closer nor moving further away. Its slow pace ensured that I saw every part of it, every twitch, every blink, every moving of the ears.

With each yard it covered my mood darkened. My sense of hope faded in the face of the foreboding I had felt as we had approached this land. Hopelessness grew within me to the extent that I began to believe that Shekinah was now gone, believing that his task was complete. Aagar and his fellows were nothing more than a daydream, a hallucination brought on by too much sun and exertion.

That black dog began to crush me without coming one-inch closer. My view of the landscape narrowed, bit by bit, until all that I could see was that black dog. It completed its walk around from left to right. It then returned along the same circumference. Every step brought a failure, an inadequacy, and the memory of a bad decision. I saw my life as an accountant might see the balance sheet of a failing company. I felt useless, unwanted, not worth knowing or knowing about. What was my purpose? Why was I alive? The questions and doubts charged like a demon cavalry brigade.

“Why had he left me? So stupid to give day dreams names and personalities. Why was I on this hill? Surely, as boring and as predictable as home had been it must be better than this. Would it be?” II could not remember enough of home to make a comparison. I felt my mind slipping its moorings.

The black dog walked on.

I wanted to turn back. Sprint for a view of the town at least. “No” I argued with myself, “Why go back, there’s nothing there except the prospect of telling people you accomplished nothing more than a walk”. Such thoughts baffled me. After all, no task had been set. I can remember debating with myself about why the opinion of others was so important. I do not recall deciding one way of the other.

The black dog walked on.

I stood up with all of the determination I could muster. My one-man drama was not for the benefit of the black dog, it was for me. I had to convince myself I could walk with this thing there or not. I continued in the direction I had been going. It walked, the black dog, diagonally behind me to my right its eyes never breaking contact with me.

The cloth bag that I had received in the forest suddenly made itself known in my trouser pocket. Whatever it contained poked my thigh. “See.” I said to myself, “It was not a day dream.” I argued back, “You picked it up and imagined it was given to you”. My argument with myself served to confuse me about all that had taken and was taking place.

The black dog walked on.

For reasons I did not begin to understand at that time, I did not reach into my pocket to retrieve the bag. There was indeed a darkness about, but somehow I knew that this darkness was not what the contents of the bag existed for. I forced my mind to trawl for memories of happenings on the voyage: The meal in the woods, observing the dance, the vision of the throne upon the sea, things Shekinah had said. My mind wrestled with the reality of the black dog and my demand to recall all that was good and true.

I walked on.

Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Eight)

After a hearty meal, we left our beaming hosts and, instead of heading back to the ship, Shekinah turned back towards the hospital. We soon passed it dispelling any ideas I had of a return. On up the street he strode with me in breathless pursuit.

The town soon fell behind us as the road headed into the hills that stood guard over the town. Bare rock crowned each hill. Those crowns peered out over the tops of tall fir trees that thickly populated the slopes. Before too long the roadway gave way to a dirt track that became steeper with every step. Finally, we veered off the track onto the grass at the base of one of the hills.

I could stand it no longer, “Why must you always walk so fast?” I asked incredulously. “By the time we get anywhere, I am ready to collapse.” I exaggerated. He looked at me in a way that made me wish I had never asked. Not that he was cross or anything like that, he just looked down at me, and the corners of his mouth began their mischievous curl upward. One would not notice that at first, but the more I spent time with him the more playful he seemed to become. There was always a flash of the eye, the cheeky upward curl of the corners of his mouth. “Did he ever get cross?” I thought to myself.

“If it is not too much trouble, my friend, I would like you to go with me into the wood.” Undisguised mischief was in his voice. “I suppose I could manage a few more steps.” “Good.” he said as he rocketed off up the hill to the first line of trees.

As we entered the wood, the cool shadows gave some relief to the heat of the day. However, these were strange shadows, as they did not alter the intensity of the light. I looked upwards and the trees were so close together that they formed a canopy obscuring the sky. Something else suddenly came into my consciousness: Wherever we had gone together, I was always able to see. That terrible house behind the hospital had no light to speak of, but my vision was unimpaired, so much so I could see the darkness as it charged at us.

Two things I became sure of that day, an unflappable, childlike mischief, and constant light. Never in our organized times back home had I ever heard of him spoken of in this manner. I was getting to know him and what I was learning contradicted the traditions. Would everyone know him like this? Was I the only voyager? Had there been any before me, would any come after?

“Come over here.” His rich voice wafted lazily through the trees. As I had stood wondering, he had moved a hundred yards further on. “I want you to meet a friend.” As if on cue, a tall, impossibly elegant figure dressed from shoulder to foot in a long silvery white gown emerged from behind a tree. His face was handsome and beautiful all at the same time. Just as I decided he was male, some female aspect seemed to show itself, and then balanced by another male feature. An energy emanated from within this being. His, if he were male, gait was purposeful yet his footfall did not seem to make any sort of impression upon the forest floor.

I extended my hand as if to shake the hand of Shekinah’s friend. He spoke, or rather sung. There are no words to describe the sound, suffice to say it was beautiful, emotional even. So stirred within, I had to swallow hard to prevent an onrush of emotion. “I am Aagar, you are welcome here.” I looked toward Shekinah who said, “Aagar and his fellows watch the town. When an enemy comes, they watch and protect. Sometimes an enemy is stubborn and they call for me. While they wait for my arrival they protect those who can and desire to be protected.”

Aagar pointed down the hill. My gaze followed his outstretched finger and, frankly, I saw nothing other than the town. His other hand brushed my forehead with the softness of a gentle breeze. Then, suddenly, I saw: All around the town figures like Aagar were walking. It was a truly amazing sight. One of them, as if to offer an example of their task, walked towards a panicking horse and all at once, the animal calmed much to the relief, I am sure, of the child hanging onto its reins.

“You have all been here while the darkness was in the town?” I asked. “Yes.” Shekinah spoke, as if on Aagar’s behalf, “Had they not been here, the darkness would have spared no one. They were here because there were those in the town who knew Truth and believed that ultimately no lie could survive, and then there were those unable to understand. They were the reason for the presence of Aagar and his companions.”

As I focussed again on my immediate surroundings, I became aware of a vast crowd. Beings like Aagar surrounded Shekinah and I. Their faces calm but with a happiness that does not require constant laughter. Their demeanour was a calm delight.

Open your hands, said one of Aagar’s number. I cupped them to receive a small cloth bag. “This is for you to remember this day by. When the darkness comes then you may open the bag. Until then keep it closed and keep it close.”

Suddenly, Shekinah and I were alone again, or so it seemed.