Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Twelve).

The dark eastern horizon gradually cracked to reveal the silver promise of a new day. Slowly the morning grew from silver-grey to yellow gold as the great sun arose anew from its nighttime tomb. The wind blew in from the direction of the resurrected star bringing with it the freshness of a new beginning.

The decks of the ship were alive with activity. Men coiled ropes, barrels rolled and stacked. The smell of breakfast escaped the galley into the open air and assailed each man’s nostrils without mercy. This morning was indeed a new morning. Everything seemed to have a new urgency, a renewed impetus.

Shekinah stood next to the wheel. His voice boomed over the wind and the activity of the men. “Make ready men a storm awaits us in the sea ahead!” I looked directly over the bows and saw a mountain of slate grey cloud bubbling up from the sea itself, or so it seemed. A rumble of thunder travelled the miles between to reinforce in me the dread of the coming tempest.

“First we eat.” The galley crew brought food to the deck and each man received a full plate of breakfast. Everyone tucked in without seemingly giving a thought of what lay ahead. I did my best to eat with the hearty gusto of the men around me. Furtive glances forward towards the storm preceded each mouthful.

Our captain sat beside me on the deck. His plate half empty he gestured with his fork towards the storm, “I knew this was waiting for us, you do know that don’t you?” I remembered the night before with my every mood reflected in Shekinah’s face and wondered why he needed to pose such a question. “I am sure you did’” I ventured, none too convincingly. “What I cannot grasp is why we do not navigate around it.” The impertinence of my reply shocked me but I resisted the temptation to apologize, as I now accepted he knew my attitude before I voiced it. “We will go through it, so one can learn of it.” “One can...” I wondered silently. “Was this about me or was it just a matter of grammar?”

He smiled towards me, tapped me on the knee, and was gone.

The promise of the bright dawn died with the rapid advance of the deep rumbling clouds and the advance party of lashing rain. The last of the sailors came down from the masts after furling all of the unnecessary canvas in order to preserve them from damage. On-deck stores checked and knots were tested.

Boom followed mighty boom interspersed by an avalanche sound that rumbled and roared from one horizon to the other. The Pneuma pitched and rolled. The decks were awash with the sea and rain. Lightning crackled to our starboard side like a manic conductor overseeing the performance of a demon orchestra.

I found myself clinging to the ropes that secured a row of barrels to the port rails. I was soaked and saw no prospect of navigating the pitching desk towards my quarters. I looked up behind me and saw Shekinah standing, without support, surveying all before him. His eyes were wide open and his mouth was moving, as if in conversation. The man behind the wheel was a mass of rope-like muscle and sinew as he wrestled with the wheel. While his body was a mass of effort, his face was serenity personified.

Through the rain, which now flew almost horizontal across the deck, I caught sight of a slinking form. Black with its head held low it made its menacing way towards me. Then, a flash a rumble, a crash. Nothing. Where did it go? My heart became a bass drum, my blood raced through my veins. Then, again, closer now. The black form stood and stared. Behind it, through the silver curtain of rain stood a man. Elderly and that yellow silk scarf. I looked up behind me only to see Shekinah gone. The storm roared with derision. The wind howled in mockery. The dog moved.

“Stand where you are!” The command came from behind me. I found myself standing in the centre of the deck. Shekinah stood behind me with his right hand upon my shoulder. The dog and his master slowly, almost indiscernibly, moved forward. “Remember the house and the presence.” Shekinah whispered in my ear so that only I could hear. “What did I do?” My mind raced in search of those images, that memory of victory.

I recalled that old house with the whiny wind, the musty darkness, and the sound of scurrying in the shadows. “You commanded the presence to stop and then evicted it as a trespasser.” His grip on my shoulder firmed, “Now, you do likewise.”

I breathed in all the air I could as if arming a weapon for war. “You stop right where you are. You are trespassers, interlopers. I have been given the authority to evict you, now go!” Both figures mutated into one whirling, tornado like shape. It bent towards us with what appeared to be a face and swayed like a snake under the charmer’s spell. “Go!” I bellowed as if fuelled by the tempest itself. From the midst of the whirling form, came a scream of anguish such as the one that I had heard in that house and never wished to hear again. That scream tore through the sound of the storm and seemed to make the very timbers judder.

The warmth of the sun caressed my face. His hand was still on my shoulder. The sky was clear blue and filled with the sound of sea birds. Men were in the rigging unfurling the sails.

“Come and sit with me awhile.” I followed him to the upper deck and sat at his table. Wine flowed and glasses rose. “Interlopers.” He almost giggled. “I have no recollection of saying that. However, it did lend a certain flavour to the proceedings.” “It just came out, I didn’t plan it.” “The lesson here is that you don’t have to quote me, just follow my lead. Learned principles are more useful than accurate but scarcely believed in quotations.”

“Set a course for the islands.” Came the command and the wheel was spun and the Pneuma plunged towards the west.

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.”

Sailing aboard the Pneuma (Part Ten)

I was walking down hill. The woods to my right receded and the valley floor came into clear view. The valley seemed far deeper than one would expect from the height of the hill I had just climbed. Drawn down, I just had to go.

I began to think of Shekinah. I do not know why, he just invaded my thoughts. I began to wonder about the nature of my relationship with him. It seemed so intermittent, so irregular, and inconsistent. I tried to shrug off these nagging thoughts, but they were stubborn. He had never openly indicated that our relationship was anything more than host and traveller. For sure, some pretty amazing things seemed to happen when he was around, but there never was what appeared to be a demand for anything else. In fact, he even walked too fast for me most of the time. Such an action is hardly the manifestation of a desire for ongoing fellowship.

The valley floor slowly came up to meet me. It seemed a quiet place; in fact, it was devoid of any discernable activity. Then, quite unexpectedly, a voice called out from behind a low stonewall that had, as far as I was concerned, just materialized off to my left. The voice was male, but not in any way remarkable. In fact, it was just a voice of any number of men over the age of forty. “Come over here, seeker.” “Seeker?” How did he know anything about me or the purpose of my presence in that valley?

I walked towards the stone structure and became aware of the faintest smell of sulphur in the air. Usually sulphur’s stench is over powering. On that occasion, it was just a hint in the breeze but there just the same. I went around the wall and there sitting upon a common park bench was a man clearly advanced in years. His clothing was expensive and neat. He definitely had a sense of style and not a little drama, given the bright yellow silk scarf around his neck. He was clean-shaven save for a tuft of white hair just below his bottom lip. He gestured for me to join him on the bench, but I declined. My refusal did not seem to effect his demeanour in any way.

His eyes narrowed as he studied me from head to foot and back again. Finally, he spoke; “So, Shekinah brought you here and you do not know why?” He posed his remark as a question. A clever move as it creates some uncertainty and makes it difficult not to respond. He continued; “Nasty business that black dog following you.” I remember wondering if that was another question. “Yes, I came here aboard the Pneuma and yes, that dog episode was far from pleasant.” I referred to the ship in an attempt to gauge what more this man knew.

The subject changed; “I am here every afternoon from one ‘o clock, always, never miss a day. I like to think of myself as dependable. I don’t hold much to relationships, which dissipate, like mist. I am for the organized and the predictable. Solid, that’s the way things ought to be.” He looked at me and gestured again for me to sit. “Shekinah is not the sort I can get to grips with. You never know what he is going to do next. Not much chance of success when your friend cannot be relied upon. Not so?” The questions, those tools of doubt, were now morphing into accusations.

I wanted to defend Shekinah, but felt that the accusations were not far from the mark in reality. “Where was Shekinah? I had been left alone in the wood, hounded by some demon dog and now this!” My thoughts ran amok. In the periphery of my vision, I am sure I saw the corners of my host’s lips curl ever so faintly upward.

I replied; “I cannot answer your questions, at least, I am sure, to your satisfaction. However, one thing I am sure of is that Shekinah is my friend and he does have my best interests at heart. I cannot explain his absence, but I am sure he is doing what he deems best ...” My voice trailed off, robbing it of any semblance of being convincing. I felt like I had betrayed him. After all I had witnessed, I could not mount a coherent defence of his good intentions. Perhaps this new acquaintance of mine was a better option. At least he spoke straight. I did not like that snappy dresser but I really had the sense of knowing where I stood with him. There was seemingly nothing abstract nor esoteric about him at all.

We were not alone. I spun round and to my horror there sat the black dog, about one hundred feet behind me. It glowered at me. My head flicked back to face my then current host. He had not moved, his countenance unchanged. Is this now my choice. My predictable new ‘friend’ or that dark desperation of the dog.

It was then that I saw the ruse. Shekinah had been manoeuvred completely out of my thinking. Doubts about his intentions had moved him aside, my host’s apparent dependability and predictability had removed the necessity of mystery, and now the dog represented what was to happen should I not choose to sit on that bench. This destructive partnership had separated me from the unseen reality and blinded me to all except the predictable, the dependable, and the prison of life devoid of magic.

“What was that Shekinah had said about magic?’ My mind raced about seeking the answer. “Why was I even thinking about this?” That question gatecrashed my already chaotic thoughts.

“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.” “Yes, that was true of that day, but did it remain so for my current situation?” I began to entertain the thought that this man and this, or perhaps his, dog were of the magic that was stolen, misunderstood, twisted and abused. My mind settled, I felt myself choosing to agree with the idea of Shekinah’s magic. As I did, the world around me began to shimmer. Everything became a haze, defined outlines disappeared.

Voices were coming from every direction. I felt a wooden floor beneath, hands touching me, and the many faces looking down upon me suddenly became more defined. I recognized, they were part of the Pneuma’s crew. Suddenly the sea of faces parted and one like the sun shining came between them. “Shekinah!” I shouted, not meaning to. My tone was one of relief mixed with generous helpings of fear, dismay, anger, frustration, and relief.

My outburst did not perturb him in the least. He offered me his hand and hoisted me to my feet. “Today, you won the battle to believe. In the face of seemingly strong and compelling reasons to walk in predictability, you chose, on your own, the voyage of mystery. Congratulations, I could not do it for you, but I was there watching, waiting, and hoping.”