At the Beginning there was nothing. There was no light, no darkness – Just a grey Nothingness. Even emptiness cannot describe this state – as emptiness means devoid of presence and presence didn’t even exist.
Within this grey Nothingness there was a tiny spark of presence, a consciousness. This spark couldn’t even be described as life, not even in as abstract a way as the gods would describe life.
This consciousness was aware; it had thoughts but had no feelings, it had knowledge but had no experience.
It felt limited in its present state of existence and was seeking more, seeking experience of life.
And then all began.
Like a huge explosion the tiny spark expanded outwards. It expanded in a rainbow of light and music, too awesome to behold, too beautiful to witness, too overwhelming to see and hear, even if there had been a human to watch.
Not even the elves, of high and graceful race, of extreme and rare beauty, would have been able to encompass this beauty of beginning.
This tiny spark was all that later became the Universe, both the known and the unknown. The Universe became the spark’s playground, its place and way to learn about life. Later races of high insight and knowledge called the spark for The Ultimate, but most of their knowledge is now forgotten.
The Ultimate created the Universe; it created stars and suns, planets and moons. It created life, both known and unknown. It created all, as we know it now; the animals, the flowers, the rivers, the humans, elves, dwarfs and all other races that exists.
It created souls and spirits, gods and elementals. It created thought and feeling, though not knowing what it was, it created hate and love, hunger and satiety, balance and chaos.
The Ultimate had a finger in every thing, in every aspect of life and death, of humanity and godhood.
As a result parts of The Ultimate was now existing in everything there were. It was the sum of all the spirits of the world. The sum of the spirits of fire, water, air and earth, the sum of the spirits of rock and wood, the sum of the spirits of plants and animals, of humans and gods. It was in everything living or dead, a tiny bit of The Ultimate, called spirit.
The Universe took a life of it own. As creatures began to become self-conscious they emerged in new ways. Ways that the Ultimate couldn’t even comprehend.
But the sum of spirits didn’t care, it was learning. Learning about life, about natures balance. How there is to be light, if darkness exists, how there has to be drought for flooding to counterweight. How there has to be female and male creatures, for races to continue and to grow.
As creatures evolved, the Ultimate was learning, and when feelings arose from the murk, that had been created, the Ultimate beamed with joy. This was a whole new path for the sum of spirits, a path forever changing the world.
For as feelings got power, a new concept arose, a concept called Soul.
The Soul was a special entity. Where the Spirit thought about the greater good, the greater life, not seeking to gain other than knowledge, the Soul was totally different. The Soul wanted things for it self, it wanted to be satisfied.
Where you could call the spirit for fullness, the soul was emptiness, where the spirit was satisfaction the soul was hunger.
The soul drove the humans through new paths.
Greed and hunger arose and the people were no longer happy and innocent. Humans began to walk a different path and the old knowledge disappeared.
People began to seek personal gain and those few who kept to their old ways were hunted down. War and strife arose from the darker side of human nature and many innocent were killed. People used the nature’s recourses greedily and the earth groaned under their weight.
War was fought hidden behind words of honour and justice, but no one ever truly won the war.
Villages were lain barren, seas filled with wrecks, forests burned down to the ground and deserts grew for every decade that went by.
Wars were fought for centuries, leaving the earth in ashes. New machines were invented, all to kill as many a possible. Animals were hunted down for trophy and children taken from their mothers just for fun. The earth was a living hell.
Spirit wept for the living beings, but Soul just laughed at it all. Soul fulfilled his purpose and Spirit could do nothing about it.
Spirit was still contained in everything living but was slowly loosing the battle. As Soul got more and more power, the world fought to survive.
One day when everything looked most hopeless a star shone brightly in the sky, heralding a new beginning.
A few people began to gather guided by their Spirit, because they whished for a balance within themselves. Through the balance in themselves they began to see that balance was needed in the world as well.
They choose to ignore the voice of their Soul, somehow knowing, that they misinterpreted that voice.
A new order of humans began. Working for the greater good and the greater Life. They gained supporters throughout the world, and slowly the deserts shrank and the forests once again stood in their green foliage.
But still strife and greed existed, and the Order understood that it would take centuries to create the right balance between Spirit and Soul.
They started teaching the way of the great wheel, taught that spirit lives on forever and soul dies with the body. Connections were found in links between lives and they understood that Spirit began from the tiny spark and that Spirit would end in a tiny spark, when enough knowledge was gained.
The Order also understood, that life and Soul was all about learning. Spirit was learning from the Soul and that the Soul misunderstood Spirits desire to learn. Thereby creating a hunger in Soul that afflicted humans in unbalanced ways.
Those enlightened people saw it as their life purpose to create a harmonious communication between Spirit and Soul.
They still wander the world. They are few but powerful, teaching humans about the Greater Life.
You might be lucky to find one and if you listen carefully and open your heart, you will know your Greater Life.
Showing posts with label Short story. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Short story. Show all posts
4/14/2010
3/26/2010
Sunrise
A light rises over the horizon, the darkness of the night retreats for that of the coming dawn. From the deepest blue to paler and paler shades. Dew upon my soles, crisp fresh air, complete silence as if nature holds its breath.
One early bird breaks the silence with a longing song. Another joins and within a few heartbeats the paradise erupts in a chorus of song. Pale pink washes the skies and slowly the orange fireball rises between the peaks of distant mountains.
The water of the lake reflects the sky and a soft breeze ripples the surface, creating patterns of stunning beauty. A graceful bird dives into the water and triumphantly rises up into the air in a shower of glistening water drops.
I stand upon the hill welcoming the day, being one with all around me. I long to join spread out my arms and fly into the sky like the eagle. Instead I let the first rays of the morning sun touch my skin and warm my chilled body.
Dew evaporates and a thin layer of haze lies over the lake, mingling with the thin wisp of smoke coming from the chimney of my cabin. Inside life stirs, and suddenly a child's laughter echoes over the small valley.
I smile and thank the world for another day. Content I return to my family, a happy song in my heart, each step bringing me joy and anticipation for the day just begun.
One early bird breaks the silence with a longing song. Another joins and within a few heartbeats the paradise erupts in a chorus of song. Pale pink washes the skies and slowly the orange fireball rises between the peaks of distant mountains.
The water of the lake reflects the sky and a soft breeze ripples the surface, creating patterns of stunning beauty. A graceful bird dives into the water and triumphantly rises up into the air in a shower of glistening water drops.
I stand upon the hill welcoming the day, being one with all around me. I long to join spread out my arms and fly into the sky like the eagle. Instead I let the first rays of the morning sun touch my skin and warm my chilled body.
Dew evaporates and a thin layer of haze lies over the lake, mingling with the thin wisp of smoke coming from the chimney of my cabin. Inside life stirs, and suddenly a child's laughter echoes over the small valley.
I smile and thank the world for another day. Content I return to my family, a happy song in my heart, each step bringing me joy and anticipation for the day just begun.
3/25/2010
The cabin
It's a quiet evening as the sun settles over the mountains on the other side of the lake. A few birds bid us good-night as the sky turns from fiery golden to the palest of rose, delicate and fragile. The lake mirrors the sky, adding magic to the moment as I snuggle against your arms and settle closer to you. The dew falls on our feet which aren't covered by the blanket.
As the hue of the sky turns darker to indigo, I see the first stars peek down at us. Venus, the planet of femininity and motherhood stands proud over the tallest peak. Challenging us, daring us to doubt her strength. Behind me I know Mars rises, shaded by the cabin which shields us from the light wind of the evening.
From the fireplace inside a golden fire floats through the door frame, casting long shadows on the porch where we lie. You push against the deck, making the hammock rock in rhythm with our breath.
No words are spoken, together we share this special moment as the day ends and its events pass out of the horizon. Now is only the moment of you and I. Togetherness in comfort that needs no explanation.
A half moon peeks over the roof competing with the dew for our attention. The summer night feels warm, with a refreshing breath of coolness that prepares us for sleep.
But not yet. First it is us. Silent together, close, almost merged into one being in love. The demands of the day are beyond us and our children safely asleep inside. This is our moment, when we can be us without distractions, when we can be the couple in love, the lovers, the life-partners, those bound together by soul, heart and body. When we do not hold the roles of the day, of our mission and purposes. When we're allowed to just be us, together, in unison.
Faint, as only the summer night will allow, the first northern lights begin to dance before our eyes. The sky is dark now, twilight has passed, but still a glow shines over the horizon. The sun still plays his game and lights our world, however faintly it is this night. He cannot outshine the aurora reflected in the lake and the stars and moon overhead.
Such a beautiful evening, and perfect in the moment as I feel your warm skin against me. We'll make love this night, under the beautiful sky. A love so tender that only a mother's love for her newborn can compare.
For now though, we sit together in the hammock, slowly rocking as silence settles around us and bring our minds a quiet peace.
As the hue of the sky turns darker to indigo, I see the first stars peek down at us. Venus, the planet of femininity and motherhood stands proud over the tallest peak. Challenging us, daring us to doubt her strength. Behind me I know Mars rises, shaded by the cabin which shields us from the light wind of the evening.
From the fireplace inside a golden fire floats through the door frame, casting long shadows on the porch where we lie. You push against the deck, making the hammock rock in rhythm with our breath.
No words are spoken, together we share this special moment as the day ends and its events pass out of the horizon. Now is only the moment of you and I. Togetherness in comfort that needs no explanation.
A half moon peeks over the roof competing with the dew for our attention. The summer night feels warm, with a refreshing breath of coolness that prepares us for sleep.
But not yet. First it is us. Silent together, close, almost merged into one being in love. The demands of the day are beyond us and our children safely asleep inside. This is our moment, when we can be us without distractions, when we can be the couple in love, the lovers, the life-partners, those bound together by soul, heart and body. When we do not hold the roles of the day, of our mission and purposes. When we're allowed to just be us, together, in unison.
Faint, as only the summer night will allow, the first northern lights begin to dance before our eyes. The sky is dark now, twilight has passed, but still a glow shines over the horizon. The sun still plays his game and lights our world, however faintly it is this night. He cannot outshine the aurora reflected in the lake and the stars and moon overhead.
Such a beautiful evening, and perfect in the moment as I feel your warm skin against me. We'll make love this night, under the beautiful sky. A love so tender that only a mother's love for her newborn can compare.
For now though, we sit together in the hammock, slowly rocking as silence settles around us and bring our minds a quiet peace.
12/29/2008
My Best Friend - 3rd draft
I stopped up and looked again. That face was familiar, I had seen it somewhere before. I walked over to her and said hello. She greeted me with a big smile, "Hello my dear old friend. It's so nice to see you again."
I paused, a bit puzzled. My best friend? That seemed odd. While she was familiar, I couldn't recall her name or where I should know her from. When she reached out her arms to hug me, I couldn't resist and I gave her a big hug back. It felt good, as if something missing had just returned. As if I was whole again, completely content. I couldn't help but grin and then laugh with joy, as I felt her against me. This was wonderful. It was very strange, but it seemed so suiting. So right that it was highly unnerving.
After what felt like an eternity she stepped back. Holding my shoulders she looked me into the eyes and said, "How are you?"
"I'm fine," the usual answer. She grinned at me and said, "I asked, how are you?" She looked me into the eyes again, seeing more than anyone should see. "How are you really my dearest friend. Deep inside?" Her words penetrated me. I stood there just looking at her, feeling scared for some reason. my heart beat faster and my stomach tied up in a knot. I stammered a few words before clearing my throat, "Perhaps we should go somewhere else. I know of a nice café nearby." I tried to sound casual, but I don't think I was convincing.
She brightened at my words and instantly said, "Let's go to my place, you're always welcome and it's been so long." She seemed anxious to have me come. As if it was of great importance to her. Why would it be anyway, I didn't know her no matter what she had said. How could it be too long?
I hesitated briefly. I worried while paranoid scenes went through my head. Then I chided myself as I was taken by her spirited energy. Who was this woman I was attracted to just like that? I just wanted to open completely to her and let her in to see everything. Did I trust her? I realized that I did for some strange reason. I trusted a stranger. It might have been her familiarity which prompted it, the way she seemed to be part of me.
Her apartment was warm and welcoming. I felt at home instantly. It was a strange mix of styles and personalities, but I liked it. Perhaps because it was how I would have decorated my home had I the courage and confidence.
She directed me to a deep couch and with a happy grin she asked me if I still prefered Pu-erh tea. With a surprised laugh I answered yes. "I do too," she said from the kitchen, "I just love that fermented, earthly flavour it has. "
I was amazed, "Yes, that's it," I called to her while making myself comfortable with a blanket over my legs. It had the same green as a beech forest on the first summer day, the same green as my favourite shirt. Again this feeling of unease washed over me and my stomach tied up with what I realized was fear. Quickly I pushed the feeling aside, not yet willing to face it.
She brought the tea and sat down next to me. I held the steaming cup with one hand and wrapped my other arm around her shoulders. Unthinkingly I pulled her closer. With a laugh she complied and snuggled against me.
"You know, it's been too long since you've done that," she said while smiling at my eyes. "I've wanted to hug you so many times over these last years, but you've always been so distant, rejecting everything I tried."
I stared at her. What was she talking about? When would I have rejected her? It was impossible not to mention I was certain that I'd never refuse a hug from her. She was just too special. There was some very attractive quality over her. Something I couldn't resist or just ignore. I was fascinated, perhaps this was a spell cast on me. Alone looking at her made me smile, filled me with laughter.
"I can't imagine ever rejecting you," I said with an uneasy smile while squeezing her. "This is odd. It's really strange." I scanned her face again. "I feel it like I know you, like I've known you all my life. Like you've always been there. And yet, when you say things like me ignoring you for too long, I get confused." I tried to smile at her, a bit worried about her reaction and put off by the conversation.
"I look upon you, hear you, feel you and I know instantly that you're a person I could fall in love with and am attracted to. You're beautiful, full of life, open, compassionate and giving. It's all qualities that makes you attractive. I can't imagine myself ever refusing you anything or not want to spend time with you."
"But you have." No accusations or chiding, merely a statement of facts.
"It can't be, it's impossible." I tried to deny her words, tried again to tell her she just seemed too special. But even to me my words sounded hollow and I knew somewhere deep down I had rejected her.
She listened to mes with a caring smile, silently encouraging me to continue. "No way I'd have refused anyone as interesting as you," I repeated the words without conviction. For some reason I felt safe with her, as if it didn't matter what I said or felt as long as if it was the truth, my sincere opinion. She'd accept me the same no matter what.
"If I had seen you, I would have walked over to you like I did today. Had you invited me to a hug, I'd be hard pressed to resist you. I just can't believe that I've rejected you. It feels wrong to me, just unreal."
She gave me one of those soft looks that makes your knees go weak ,"Yes, you didn't see me my friend, you choose not to. It is rather unreal."
I gabed at her words. I choose it? How was that possible? Again I protested while drawing her closer to me. "How could I choose not to see someone so special as you?" I peered at her eyes, hoping to find some logical explanation. She just shook her head, a patient smile playing over her lips and her eyes twinkling in merriment.
I couldn't have forgotten, could I. Or have been blind? Was it really true that I had decided not to see her? To ignore her invitations. Could it be that I had been too focused on myself and my own misery? The mystery of how I could have ignored her kept nudging me, but every time I tried to raise the question and get an answer she distracted me and changed the topic.
"How is the tea?" Again a nice manoeuvre and I had to admit I had forgotten all about the tea.
The conversation continued for hours. She made us another pot of tea and fund some cookies as well. We talked about everything between earth and sky. And even about things beneath as well. Most of the things we talked about was personal growth and psychology. Areas which interested us both a lot. She was an interesting conversations partner and loved to discuss topics from many different angles. She always seemed able to see a situation from the other side.
"You know, I don't think I can outsmart you in any discussion. You seem to see through all my traps as if I'm announcing them, " I said after a longer discussion about religion and politics.
She laughed warmly, "You're not easy to see through, but I know you." She winked at me, "Besides you tend to wrinkle your nose when you try to lure me into a counter argument you have planned. It's really cute, reminds me of a bunny I had."
"I've met my match," I lifted my hands and surrendered to her humorous wit with a laugh. She kept using her humour to ease tense moments during our discussions, which I appreciated.
As the night turned into dawn I found myself lying next to her, holding her closely and drifting into sleep. I think was falling in love with this woman. Something like this had never happened to me before. Falling for someone at first sight. For some reason she just make me feel complete.
She was fascinating. I felt drawn to her many qualities and attractive sides. It already felt like I knew her better than myself, and the more I had learned, the more I wanted to be with her. Sure she had some faults and less attractive sides, but all that truly mattered to me were the good ones. They outshone everything else. Both in numbers and in brightness. It was like comparing thousands of full-moons to a couple of candles on the lawn.
As I lay there with her in my arms I spoke to her, "You are very beautiful, and very special. You seem so happy and content, so at ease with yourself, in balance, accepting yourself. I have never known anyone like you." She smiled at my words and snuggled closer to me. Instinctual I withdrew, again feeling the conflict in me not being sure about the entire situation. Part of me wanted to refuse it all, to just run away and forget. But of course I couldn't and I surrendered to her closeness.
"I know," she said, "I listen to what people tell me, I try to be open-minded and accept their critique."
"But how can you do it? Don't you get hurt when they speak poorly of you?"
She shook her head, "No, I use their ways of seeing me, the way they see my faults and flaws as a tool to better understand myself. Their critique is helping me and I keep that in mind. It provides different views of myself, different perspectives."
"But for what, for what reason?" I wondered why it was so important to know other people's opinion of yourself, if that wasn't letting others judge you.
She chuckled. "To change of course. Once I see myself as I am, I can start working to change what I want to change."
I caressed her face slowly, wanting to check that she was real, "But how do you do it, how can you keep working with yourself like that?"
"It's a good question. It's a drive in me and I'm stubborn and will-full." she grinned at me, "I know I'm far from perfect and I want to be the best I can possibly be.
"You seem pretty perfect to me," I couldn't keep from teasing her. "Just look at you, all beautiful and very interesting."
She laughed warmly and said after a bit, "Seriously, I look at things and try to be realistic. I evaluate myself, look at what there is and what I don't like.
"How can there be things you don't like? I thought you accepted yourself fully?"
"I do accept myself," she said, "I also accept that I have faults and that I can do things to change them.
I considered her words and nodded. "How do you do it then? Changing yourself?"
"I go through the things I'm dissatisfied with in my life and sort it up in two lists." She nodded at my unspoken question, "One for the things I don't want to change, and one for the things I want to change. The stuff I want to change I then break down in small steps, and even smaller again, and then I just take one step at a time. It's really not more than that." She grinned again.
"I guess that's right," I scratched my nape while considering her words and then nodded for her to continue.
"It's easy to take just one step at a time," she said, "and focus on it. It's when you focus on the big goal that you lose faith in yourself." I grinned as I agreed. "Yeah, that's when you get overwhelmed and don't think you can do it." I nodded again and remembered the times I had give up on a thing precisely for that reason.
I considered her words for a while, taking my time to really absorb and try to understand her. "Do you try to become perfect?" I said a bit uncertain about if she was compulsive in her chase for bettering herself.
"No," she laughed genuinely amused, "I know that it's impossible. Nothing is perfect. Perfection is something to strive for, to reach for, but you can never reach it."
"But how do you avoid despair then? Striving for something that you know is impossible is just worthless?" I really tried to understand her but couldn't. "What's the point of striving for a goal you know is impossible? Isn't it just a waste of time and energy?"
"It's not worthless to strive for. It's not a waste of time. It's a way to make sure you'll always give your best." She grinned, "At least that's how I see it. Others will probably disagree with me. As long as I've given I best and I know I can't do better, then it's worthwhile for me. That's when I think you're reached the real goal. Perfection isn't the real goal. To me you've succeeded as long as you've given your best. It's about what you overcame, not where you ended."
I nodded to her words, "I really like that outlook." I said, "That it's about what you overcome and not where you end."
She smiled, "I know." Again this mysterious reference to our past that I couldn't make sense of. I wanted to confront her about tit again, but she fell asleep in my arms before I found the words. Instead I lay awake thinking about all the things she had said during the evening.
She was a dreamer as well, dreams that gave her hope to believe that things will truly change if only she works hard enough for it. "I know it's possible, I've seen it many times and I've done it. Dreams give me motivation and hope when things are tough."
I had smiled, "Ah, that's how you do it, how you keep going."
She nodded, "Yes, realistic dreams. The unrealistic dreams just destroy you." She had padded my thigh, "You've been been there yourself, dreaming dreams that were impossible."
"Yeah, too many times. I've begun not to believe in dreams."
She had gazed at my eyes with a burning expression. "Dreams will happen one day if only you believe in it and in yourself." Her positive outlook was striking, I really began to admire this in her.
"I know, deep down, that no matter what I really want I can reach that dream one day," she had smiled with confidence and then grinned at me, "if only I work hard enough for it and am fully dedicated. This is my truth."
This woman had insight and deep understanding. She knew she was her own greatest obstacle, not others. I had pondered that notion for a while, arguing with her for some time. Several times she had used her humour to east the situation.
Finally she had said, "It all comes down to how you view a situation and allows it to affect you. That is the real obstacle." Her words made me pause as I realized the truth of her statement.
She also firmly believed that there is no failure. "But how can there be no failure?" My doubt clearly showed in my expression.
"Because they're lessons. Everything that goes wrong serves to show you how not to do it next time. It gives you a whole bunch of f valuable information and insight you can use next time you try."
I almost shook my head in denial when I recall what I had once read about Edison and his countless attempts to create a light bulb. I laughed, "You're right, else we wouldn't have light now."
She nodded and with merriment shining out of her eyes said, "Precisely."
She was a strong fighter not allowing herself to give up. If she decided to fold a project or let go of a goal it was after careful consideration. She would analyse herself and try to figure out why she let go and her reasons behind it. And then she'd accept her decision and move on.
No matter how I had argued with her, I couldn't change her statement. "Anything can be changed if only we are willing to do the work." It almost sounded like a mantra the way she voiced the words. It became clear it was a hard learned lesson for her.
"There will always be things we are not willing to change," she had pointed out, "but that's our own decision, not that of others."
With a laugh I had agreed and had said, "Yes, you're right, at least as long as it's matters affecting yourself one way or another and doesn't defy the physical laws of the universe."
Strong determination, positive outlook, full of hope and faith, trusting and believing herself fully. I shook my head in disbelief. Could such a person really exist? It was only part of her fascinating character though. She was curious, always willing to explore new paths and avenues, even if it scared her, which became clear during our conversation.
"Oh, I've been scared, very scared. Scared of change, scared of success, scared of being happy." Again I stared at her, finding it very hard to believe. She nodded to me and continued, "I've been frozen with fear for what has faced me. Completely caught up in my emotions, letting them rule my actions and decisions. But, I couldn't let that stop me. I had to go on. I had to face my fears and conquer them."
"But how did you do that?" I searched her face for some answer, interestedly listening to her experiences.
"I did not give into my emotions and let them ruin me and set me up for failure." I had to tell myself over and over that it was just fear. That it was just me being scared of success" I had absorbed her words feeling the truth of them.
"Only by conquering my fears, only by fighting my horror could I move forward and truly change myself. I had to do it for myself, by myself. That was the only way it could really happen."
Softly I had said, "It must have been hard to do that."
She had smiled a little dreamy smile, "It was, but I had help. The best help out there. There's no shame in asking for help either, just remember that." I had watched her hoping for her to tell me more, but instead she said, "I need to grow and change. I just can't help it." She had grinned, "But I think you've already noticed that."
"Yes indeed, and I can see that," I had said with a laugh, "the passion is burning in your eyes."
"You know," squeezing my hand she had smiled, "Growth is the most important things there is, it is the purpose of life. Growth and knowledge. To grow and change for the better, to learn and become wise."
"So you think," I countered.
"Yes," She nodded, "That's my belief. I'm not asking you to share it." But I realized that I already did. Was this meeting really some odd coincidence? It seemed too perfect in a way. Fear again sent my heart racing, but if she noticed she didn't comment on it and just kept talking with me like nothing was unusual.
Another trait I admired in her was her love and compassion. She was so open and accepting, didn't judge me as I talked to her. She just seemed to accept me as I am. She would offer advice and show me how to change what I was dissatisfied with, but she didn't think less of me for having faults and errors. She would instead just reach out and support me to the best of her abilities. She had so much compassion to give that I at times became overwhelmed with emotions and tried to change the topic.
"Now you're doing it again," She had said, "trying to avoid talking about things."
"I'm not."
"Try and stop up for a moment and feel, feel how you really are." I had stared at her and wondered if she could see straight through me. With her support I faced my emotions and fears. She helped me change my negative views into constructive and positive tools for change.
I had laughed at her, "You're preaching your religion and converting me."
She had laughed for long moment before saying, "It's working I see."
Her compassion and care had become even more evident as she had spoken of her daughter.
"I love her, more than anything in the world. I would kill anyone who harms her, I know that. Like a lioness protecting her cubs." I had smiled at the image she painted and found the contract between her love and her passion refreshing. "She is the most important to me, the most intense and fulfilling love I have."
"What do you mean?"
"What I feel for her is completely unconditional. No matter what she does or whom she is or how she behaves, I love her."
I had smiled at her words, "Yes it sounds like unconditional love. A rare thing to find."
"Perhaps so, I would find it completely wrong if it wasn't what I felt for my daughter." The love had shone from her and became almost physical. How amazing wouldn't it be to be loved like that.
"I spoil her too much, I can't help it at times." She had lifted her hands in a defensive gesture and grinned, "But I am firm too, I set down the rules because a child needs that. They need firm rules and consistency." I had agreed with a nod while sipping my tea and kept listening to her.
"If you don't give them that, you're going to harm them in the long run. Undermine their confidence and stop them from growing up as capable adults."
"Yes, I recall reading something like that a while back."
She had smiled to me, "I did too." She left her gaze drift and said, "I would never harm her if I can avoid it. But I know it can't be avoided."
"Unfortunately," I had said patting her hand, "We're human after all."
"I analyse too much at times I must admit, but it helps me see when I make errors and mistakes. And once I see I've done a mistake I stop to fix it, to heal what might be broken."
"Not many can do that," I had said with a smile.
"Yes, but I'm not afraid of admitting I can be wrong or have been wrong. And I know that everybody make errors and are wrong at times."
"That's a fact, can't be avoided."
She had many thoughts and ideas which matched my own values. It seemed like she had spent much time thinking about it and how to give her daughter the best possible. "A family is the core," she had explained to me, "the base for a person. You must always be able to count on and trust family. You must always do right and help out where it's possible. Family, like the very best of friends are those always there and supportive."
I had said, "It's just a shame when it's not like that, when families split and fall apart over these things."
With a sigh she had leaned back and just nodded. I was about to speak when she had said, "It's about love though, that's the most important. Even if a family isn't' what you hope for. "She glanced at my eyes, "Focus on the love."
She tried to teach her daughter these qualities and tried to live by them. Her loyalty and dedication to her friends and loved ones seemed complete. She had said how she'd do anything in her power to help and protect them. Trust was an essential thing to her.
"Really, there's nothing worse than betraying trust," Her usual smile was gone, "It's the worst you can do to anyone, especially those who loves you and depends on you. This is one of the things I find the hardest to forgive. It's just so wrong."
I had agreed with her and said, "When you look at things happening, much of it is betrayal of trust. In all forms and variations."
She had smiled briefly at me, knowing precisely what I was talking about. Again this odd connection and us feeling the same about important things. A brief thrill of fear made my heart skip a beat.
I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly came to myself feeling cold. I realized she had slipped out of my arms and was in the kitchen making tea and toasts.
She came in with the breakfast greeting me with her warm smile, "Good morning," she said, "there's breakfast for you. I hope you slept well, for I slept like an angel. It's been so nice to lie with you again." Another wave of oddness washed over me, but I quickly pushed the feeling aside.
"Thanks, yeah, I slept great. It was very nice and relaxing. I've enjoyed lying close to you." I smile amused at her, "I didn't even notice I fell asleep."
She smiled at me, "I'm happy to hear that."
We ate our breakfast mostly in silence. I kept glancing at her, my heart skiping a beat every time I caught eye contact with her. I was seriously falling in love with this woman. It was rather unsettling, but at the same time something I wanted no matter how scared it made me.
Finishing my breakfast I turned to her and said, "Thank you so much for all you've done."
"You're most welcome," She smiled warmly at me.
"Talking to you has really helped me. And you've been so hospitable and generous that I lack words, so open and accepting, so insightful. I'm so grateful."
"It's nothing," she said while petting my hand, "it's been a real pleasure to have you here. It was the least I could do for you. Just let me know if there's more I can help you with."
I stared at her for a moment, again surprised by how freely she gave. Time, home, advice, food, compassion. Anything within her means.
She grinned at me once more and said, "Really, it's nothing. I'd do the same for anyone I cared about. You're not the first I've helped." The amusement shone from her eyes again.
I smiled and nodded, of course, it still didn't make it less in my eyes and I was about to tell her when I again was stricken by her beauty and smile. Wordless I saw how her inner happiness and strength shone out and animated her entire being. I sat there watching her eyes and got completely lost in them. They drew me into her, felt so inviting and surrounded me with warmth and attraction.
"I love you," I told her with my emotions chocking my voice and tears showing in my eyes. The words were overwhelming me with their intensity. I swallowed thickly waiting for her reaction. I knew I had never meant those three words as much before as I did in that moment. To anybody in my life. My heart raced with shock and realization as I heard her response.
"I know," she said, "I am you."
I paused, a bit puzzled. My best friend? That seemed odd. While she was familiar, I couldn't recall her name or where I should know her from. When she reached out her arms to hug me, I couldn't resist and I gave her a big hug back. It felt good, as if something missing had just returned. As if I was whole again, completely content. I couldn't help but grin and then laugh with joy, as I felt her against me. This was wonderful. It was very strange, but it seemed so suiting. So right that it was highly unnerving.
After what felt like an eternity she stepped back. Holding my shoulders she looked me into the eyes and said, "How are you?"
"I'm fine," the usual answer. She grinned at me and said, "I asked, how are you?" She looked me into the eyes again, seeing more than anyone should see. "How are you really my dearest friend. Deep inside?" Her words penetrated me. I stood there just looking at her, feeling scared for some reason. my heart beat faster and my stomach tied up in a knot. I stammered a few words before clearing my throat, "Perhaps we should go somewhere else. I know of a nice café nearby." I tried to sound casual, but I don't think I was convincing.
She brightened at my words and instantly said, "Let's go to my place, you're always welcome and it's been so long." She seemed anxious to have me come. As if it was of great importance to her. Why would it be anyway, I didn't know her no matter what she had said. How could it be too long?
I hesitated briefly. I worried while paranoid scenes went through my head. Then I chided myself as I was taken by her spirited energy. Who was this woman I was attracted to just like that? I just wanted to open completely to her and let her in to see everything. Did I trust her? I realized that I did for some strange reason. I trusted a stranger. It might have been her familiarity which prompted it, the way she seemed to be part of me.
Her apartment was warm and welcoming. I felt at home instantly. It was a strange mix of styles and personalities, but I liked it. Perhaps because it was how I would have decorated my home had I the courage and confidence.
She directed me to a deep couch and with a happy grin she asked me if I still prefered Pu-erh tea. With a surprised laugh I answered yes. "I do too," she said from the kitchen, "I just love that fermented, earthly flavour it has. "
I was amazed, "Yes, that's it," I called to her while making myself comfortable with a blanket over my legs. It had the same green as a beech forest on the first summer day, the same green as my favourite shirt. Again this feeling of unease washed over me and my stomach tied up with what I realized was fear. Quickly I pushed the feeling aside, not yet willing to face it.
She brought the tea and sat down next to me. I held the steaming cup with one hand and wrapped my other arm around her shoulders. Unthinkingly I pulled her closer. With a laugh she complied and snuggled against me.
"You know, it's been too long since you've done that," she said while smiling at my eyes. "I've wanted to hug you so many times over these last years, but you've always been so distant, rejecting everything I tried."
I stared at her. What was she talking about? When would I have rejected her? It was impossible not to mention I was certain that I'd never refuse a hug from her. She was just too special. There was some very attractive quality over her. Something I couldn't resist or just ignore. I was fascinated, perhaps this was a spell cast on me. Alone looking at her made me smile, filled me with laughter.
"I can't imagine ever rejecting you," I said with an uneasy smile while squeezing her. "This is odd. It's really strange." I scanned her face again. "I feel it like I know you, like I've known you all my life. Like you've always been there. And yet, when you say things like me ignoring you for too long, I get confused." I tried to smile at her, a bit worried about her reaction and put off by the conversation.
"I look upon you, hear you, feel you and I know instantly that you're a person I could fall in love with and am attracted to. You're beautiful, full of life, open, compassionate and giving. It's all qualities that makes you attractive. I can't imagine myself ever refusing you anything or not want to spend time with you."
"But you have." No accusations or chiding, merely a statement of facts.
"It can't be, it's impossible." I tried to deny her words, tried again to tell her she just seemed too special. But even to me my words sounded hollow and I knew somewhere deep down I had rejected her.
She listened to mes with a caring smile, silently encouraging me to continue. "No way I'd have refused anyone as interesting as you," I repeated the words without conviction. For some reason I felt safe with her, as if it didn't matter what I said or felt as long as if it was the truth, my sincere opinion. She'd accept me the same no matter what.
"If I had seen you, I would have walked over to you like I did today. Had you invited me to a hug, I'd be hard pressed to resist you. I just can't believe that I've rejected you. It feels wrong to me, just unreal."
She gave me one of those soft looks that makes your knees go weak ,"Yes, you didn't see me my friend, you choose not to. It is rather unreal."
I gabed at her words. I choose it? How was that possible? Again I protested while drawing her closer to me. "How could I choose not to see someone so special as you?" I peered at her eyes, hoping to find some logical explanation. She just shook her head, a patient smile playing over her lips and her eyes twinkling in merriment.
I couldn't have forgotten, could I. Or have been blind? Was it really true that I had decided not to see her? To ignore her invitations. Could it be that I had been too focused on myself and my own misery? The mystery of how I could have ignored her kept nudging me, but every time I tried to raise the question and get an answer she distracted me and changed the topic.
"How is the tea?" Again a nice manoeuvre and I had to admit I had forgotten all about the tea.
The conversation continued for hours. She made us another pot of tea and fund some cookies as well. We talked about everything between earth and sky. And even about things beneath as well. Most of the things we talked about was personal growth and psychology. Areas which interested us both a lot. She was an interesting conversations partner and loved to discuss topics from many different angles. She always seemed able to see a situation from the other side.
"You know, I don't think I can outsmart you in any discussion. You seem to see through all my traps as if I'm announcing them, " I said after a longer discussion about religion and politics.
She laughed warmly, "You're not easy to see through, but I know you." She winked at me, "Besides you tend to wrinkle your nose when you try to lure me into a counter argument you have planned. It's really cute, reminds me of a bunny I had."
"I've met my match," I lifted my hands and surrendered to her humorous wit with a laugh. She kept using her humour to ease tense moments during our discussions, which I appreciated.
As the night turned into dawn I found myself lying next to her, holding her closely and drifting into sleep. I think was falling in love with this woman. Something like this had never happened to me before. Falling for someone at first sight. For some reason she just make me feel complete.
She was fascinating. I felt drawn to her many qualities and attractive sides. It already felt like I knew her better than myself, and the more I had learned, the more I wanted to be with her. Sure she had some faults and less attractive sides, but all that truly mattered to me were the good ones. They outshone everything else. Both in numbers and in brightness. It was like comparing thousands of full-moons to a couple of candles on the lawn.
As I lay there with her in my arms I spoke to her, "You are very beautiful, and very special. You seem so happy and content, so at ease with yourself, in balance, accepting yourself. I have never known anyone like you." She smiled at my words and snuggled closer to me. Instinctual I withdrew, again feeling the conflict in me not being sure about the entire situation. Part of me wanted to refuse it all, to just run away and forget. But of course I couldn't and I surrendered to her closeness.
"I know," she said, "I listen to what people tell me, I try to be open-minded and accept their critique."
"But how can you do it? Don't you get hurt when they speak poorly of you?"
She shook her head, "No, I use their ways of seeing me, the way they see my faults and flaws as a tool to better understand myself. Their critique is helping me and I keep that in mind. It provides different views of myself, different perspectives."
"But for what, for what reason?" I wondered why it was so important to know other people's opinion of yourself, if that wasn't letting others judge you.
She chuckled. "To change of course. Once I see myself as I am, I can start working to change what I want to change."
I caressed her face slowly, wanting to check that she was real, "But how do you do it, how can you keep working with yourself like that?"
"It's a good question. It's a drive in me and I'm stubborn and will-full." she grinned at me, "I know I'm far from perfect and I want to be the best I can possibly be.
"You seem pretty perfect to me," I couldn't keep from teasing her. "Just look at you, all beautiful and very interesting."
She laughed warmly and said after a bit, "Seriously, I look at things and try to be realistic. I evaluate myself, look at what there is and what I don't like.
"How can there be things you don't like? I thought you accepted yourself fully?"
"I do accept myself," she said, "I also accept that I have faults and that I can do things to change them.
I considered her words and nodded. "How do you do it then? Changing yourself?"
"I go through the things I'm dissatisfied with in my life and sort it up in two lists." She nodded at my unspoken question, "One for the things I don't want to change, and one for the things I want to change. The stuff I want to change I then break down in small steps, and even smaller again, and then I just take one step at a time. It's really not more than that." She grinned again.
"I guess that's right," I scratched my nape while considering her words and then nodded for her to continue.
"It's easy to take just one step at a time," she said, "and focus on it. It's when you focus on the big goal that you lose faith in yourself." I grinned as I agreed. "Yeah, that's when you get overwhelmed and don't think you can do it." I nodded again and remembered the times I had give up on a thing precisely for that reason.
I considered her words for a while, taking my time to really absorb and try to understand her. "Do you try to become perfect?" I said a bit uncertain about if she was compulsive in her chase for bettering herself.
"No," she laughed genuinely amused, "I know that it's impossible. Nothing is perfect. Perfection is something to strive for, to reach for, but you can never reach it."
"But how do you avoid despair then? Striving for something that you know is impossible is just worthless?" I really tried to understand her but couldn't. "What's the point of striving for a goal you know is impossible? Isn't it just a waste of time and energy?"
"It's not worthless to strive for. It's not a waste of time. It's a way to make sure you'll always give your best." She grinned, "At least that's how I see it. Others will probably disagree with me. As long as I've given I best and I know I can't do better, then it's worthwhile for me. That's when I think you're reached the real goal. Perfection isn't the real goal. To me you've succeeded as long as you've given your best. It's about what you overcame, not where you ended."
I nodded to her words, "I really like that outlook." I said, "That it's about what you overcome and not where you end."
She smiled, "I know." Again this mysterious reference to our past that I couldn't make sense of. I wanted to confront her about tit again, but she fell asleep in my arms before I found the words. Instead I lay awake thinking about all the things she had said during the evening.
She was a dreamer as well, dreams that gave her hope to believe that things will truly change if only she works hard enough for it. "I know it's possible, I've seen it many times and I've done it. Dreams give me motivation and hope when things are tough."
I had smiled, "Ah, that's how you do it, how you keep going."
She nodded, "Yes, realistic dreams. The unrealistic dreams just destroy you." She had padded my thigh, "You've been been there yourself, dreaming dreams that were impossible."
"Yeah, too many times. I've begun not to believe in dreams."
She had gazed at my eyes with a burning expression. "Dreams will happen one day if only you believe in it and in yourself." Her positive outlook was striking, I really began to admire this in her.
"I know, deep down, that no matter what I really want I can reach that dream one day," she had smiled with confidence and then grinned at me, "if only I work hard enough for it and am fully dedicated. This is my truth."
This woman had insight and deep understanding. She knew she was her own greatest obstacle, not others. I had pondered that notion for a while, arguing with her for some time. Several times she had used her humour to east the situation.
Finally she had said, "It all comes down to how you view a situation and allows it to affect you. That is the real obstacle." Her words made me pause as I realized the truth of her statement.
She also firmly believed that there is no failure. "But how can there be no failure?" My doubt clearly showed in my expression.
"Because they're lessons. Everything that goes wrong serves to show you how not to do it next time. It gives you a whole bunch of f valuable information and insight you can use next time you try."
I almost shook my head in denial when I recall what I had once read about Edison and his countless attempts to create a light bulb. I laughed, "You're right, else we wouldn't have light now."
She nodded and with merriment shining out of her eyes said, "Precisely."
She was a strong fighter not allowing herself to give up. If she decided to fold a project or let go of a goal it was after careful consideration. She would analyse herself and try to figure out why she let go and her reasons behind it. And then she'd accept her decision and move on.
No matter how I had argued with her, I couldn't change her statement. "Anything can be changed if only we are willing to do the work." It almost sounded like a mantra the way she voiced the words. It became clear it was a hard learned lesson for her.
"There will always be things we are not willing to change," she had pointed out, "but that's our own decision, not that of others."
With a laugh I had agreed and had said, "Yes, you're right, at least as long as it's matters affecting yourself one way or another and doesn't defy the physical laws of the universe."
Strong determination, positive outlook, full of hope and faith, trusting and believing herself fully. I shook my head in disbelief. Could such a person really exist? It was only part of her fascinating character though. She was curious, always willing to explore new paths and avenues, even if it scared her, which became clear during our conversation.
"Oh, I've been scared, very scared. Scared of change, scared of success, scared of being happy." Again I stared at her, finding it very hard to believe. She nodded to me and continued, "I've been frozen with fear for what has faced me. Completely caught up in my emotions, letting them rule my actions and decisions. But, I couldn't let that stop me. I had to go on. I had to face my fears and conquer them."
"But how did you do that?" I searched her face for some answer, interestedly listening to her experiences.
"I did not give into my emotions and let them ruin me and set me up for failure." I had to tell myself over and over that it was just fear. That it was just me being scared of success" I had absorbed her words feeling the truth of them.
"Only by conquering my fears, only by fighting my horror could I move forward and truly change myself. I had to do it for myself, by myself. That was the only way it could really happen."
Softly I had said, "It must have been hard to do that."
She had smiled a little dreamy smile, "It was, but I had help. The best help out there. There's no shame in asking for help either, just remember that." I had watched her hoping for her to tell me more, but instead she said, "I need to grow and change. I just can't help it." She had grinned, "But I think you've already noticed that."
"Yes indeed, and I can see that," I had said with a laugh, "the passion is burning in your eyes."
"You know," squeezing my hand she had smiled, "Growth is the most important things there is, it is the purpose of life. Growth and knowledge. To grow and change for the better, to learn and become wise."
"So you think," I countered.
"Yes," She nodded, "That's my belief. I'm not asking you to share it." But I realized that I already did. Was this meeting really some odd coincidence? It seemed too perfect in a way. Fear again sent my heart racing, but if she noticed she didn't comment on it and just kept talking with me like nothing was unusual.
Another trait I admired in her was her love and compassion. She was so open and accepting, didn't judge me as I talked to her. She just seemed to accept me as I am. She would offer advice and show me how to change what I was dissatisfied with, but she didn't think less of me for having faults and errors. She would instead just reach out and support me to the best of her abilities. She had so much compassion to give that I at times became overwhelmed with emotions and tried to change the topic.
"Now you're doing it again," She had said, "trying to avoid talking about things."
"I'm not."
"Try and stop up for a moment and feel, feel how you really are." I had stared at her and wondered if she could see straight through me. With her support I faced my emotions and fears. She helped me change my negative views into constructive and positive tools for change.
I had laughed at her, "You're preaching your religion and converting me."
She had laughed for long moment before saying, "It's working I see."
Her compassion and care had become even more evident as she had spoken of her daughter.
"I love her, more than anything in the world. I would kill anyone who harms her, I know that. Like a lioness protecting her cubs." I had smiled at the image she painted and found the contract between her love and her passion refreshing. "She is the most important to me, the most intense and fulfilling love I have."
"What do you mean?"
"What I feel for her is completely unconditional. No matter what she does or whom she is or how she behaves, I love her."
I had smiled at her words, "Yes it sounds like unconditional love. A rare thing to find."
"Perhaps so, I would find it completely wrong if it wasn't what I felt for my daughter." The love had shone from her and became almost physical. How amazing wouldn't it be to be loved like that.
"I spoil her too much, I can't help it at times." She had lifted her hands in a defensive gesture and grinned, "But I am firm too, I set down the rules because a child needs that. They need firm rules and consistency." I had agreed with a nod while sipping my tea and kept listening to her.
"If you don't give them that, you're going to harm them in the long run. Undermine their confidence and stop them from growing up as capable adults."
"Yes, I recall reading something like that a while back."
She had smiled to me, "I did too." She left her gaze drift and said, "I would never harm her if I can avoid it. But I know it can't be avoided."
"Unfortunately," I had said patting her hand, "We're human after all."
"I analyse too much at times I must admit, but it helps me see when I make errors and mistakes. And once I see I've done a mistake I stop to fix it, to heal what might be broken."
"Not many can do that," I had said with a smile.
"Yes, but I'm not afraid of admitting I can be wrong or have been wrong. And I know that everybody make errors and are wrong at times."
"That's a fact, can't be avoided."
She had many thoughts and ideas which matched my own values. It seemed like she had spent much time thinking about it and how to give her daughter the best possible. "A family is the core," she had explained to me, "the base for a person. You must always be able to count on and trust family. You must always do right and help out where it's possible. Family, like the very best of friends are those always there and supportive."
I had said, "It's just a shame when it's not like that, when families split and fall apart over these things."
With a sigh she had leaned back and just nodded. I was about to speak when she had said, "It's about love though, that's the most important. Even if a family isn't' what you hope for. "She glanced at my eyes, "Focus on the love."
She tried to teach her daughter these qualities and tried to live by them. Her loyalty and dedication to her friends and loved ones seemed complete. She had said how she'd do anything in her power to help and protect them. Trust was an essential thing to her.
"Really, there's nothing worse than betraying trust," Her usual smile was gone, "It's the worst you can do to anyone, especially those who loves you and depends on you. This is one of the things I find the hardest to forgive. It's just so wrong."
I had agreed with her and said, "When you look at things happening, much of it is betrayal of trust. In all forms and variations."
She had smiled briefly at me, knowing precisely what I was talking about. Again this odd connection and us feeling the same about important things. A brief thrill of fear made my heart skip a beat.
I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly came to myself feeling cold. I realized she had slipped out of my arms and was in the kitchen making tea and toasts.
She came in with the breakfast greeting me with her warm smile, "Good morning," she said, "there's breakfast for you. I hope you slept well, for I slept like an angel. It's been so nice to lie with you again." Another wave of oddness washed over me, but I quickly pushed the feeling aside.
"Thanks, yeah, I slept great. It was very nice and relaxing. I've enjoyed lying close to you." I smile amused at her, "I didn't even notice I fell asleep."
She smiled at me, "I'm happy to hear that."
We ate our breakfast mostly in silence. I kept glancing at her, my heart skiping a beat every time I caught eye contact with her. I was seriously falling in love with this woman. It was rather unsettling, but at the same time something I wanted no matter how scared it made me.
Finishing my breakfast I turned to her and said, "Thank you so much for all you've done."
"You're most welcome," She smiled warmly at me.
"Talking to you has really helped me. And you've been so hospitable and generous that I lack words, so open and accepting, so insightful. I'm so grateful."
"It's nothing," she said while petting my hand, "it's been a real pleasure to have you here. It was the least I could do for you. Just let me know if there's more I can help you with."
I stared at her for a moment, again surprised by how freely she gave. Time, home, advice, food, compassion. Anything within her means.
She grinned at me once more and said, "Really, it's nothing. I'd do the same for anyone I cared about. You're not the first I've helped." The amusement shone from her eyes again.
I smiled and nodded, of course, it still didn't make it less in my eyes and I was about to tell her when I again was stricken by her beauty and smile. Wordless I saw how her inner happiness and strength shone out and animated her entire being. I sat there watching her eyes and got completely lost in them. They drew me into her, felt so inviting and surrounded me with warmth and attraction.
"I love you," I told her with my emotions chocking my voice and tears showing in my eyes. The words were overwhelming me with their intensity. I swallowed thickly waiting for her reaction. I knew I had never meant those three words as much before as I did in that moment. To anybody in my life. My heart raced with shock and realization as I heard her response.
"I know," she said, "I am you."
12/23/2008
My best friend - 2nd draft
I stopped up and looked again. That face was familiar, I had seen it somewhere before. I walked over to her and said hello. She greeted me with a big smile, "Hello my dear old friend. It's so nice to see you again."
I paused, a bit puzzled. My best friend? When she reached her arms out to hug me, I couldn't resist her and I gave her a big hug back. It felt good, as if something missing had just returned. I was whole again, completely content. I couldn't help but grin and then laugh with the joy as I felt her against me. This was wonderful.
After what felt like an eternity she stepped back. Holding my shoulders she looked me into the eyes and asked me, "How are you?"
"I'm fine," the usual answer. She grinned at me and said, "I asked, how are you?" She looked me into the eyes again, seeing more than anyone should see. "How are you really my dearest friend. Deep inside?" Her words penetrated me. I stood there just looking at her, feeling scared for some reason. I stammered a few words before clearing my throat, "Perhaps we should go somewhere else. I know of a nice café nearby."
She brightened at my words and instantly said, "Let's go to my place, you're always welcome and it's been so long."
I hesitated briefly before I was taken by her spirited energy. Who was this woman I instantly was falling in love with? I just wanted to open completely to her and let her in to see everything.
Her apartment was warm and welcoming. I felt at home instantly. It was a strange mix of styles and personalities, but I liked it. Perhaps because it was what I'd have done had I the courage.
Full of energy and happiness she directed me to a deep couch. With a grin she asked me if I still prefered Pu-erh tea and with a laugh I answered yes. "I do too," she said from the kitchen, "I just love that fermented, earthly flavour it has. "
I was amazed, "Yes, that's it," I called to her while settling in the couch, pulling a blanket over my legs. The same green as a beech forest on an early summer day, the same green as my favourite shirt.
She brought the tea and sat down next to me. Holding the steaming cup with one hand, I wrapped my other arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. With laughter she complied and snuggled against me. "You know, it's been too long since you've done that," she said while smiling at my eyes. "I've wanted to hug you so many times over these last years, but you've always been so distant, rejecting everything I tried."
I stared at her. What was she talking about? I was certain that I'd never refuse a hug from her. She was just too wonderful and amazing. Someone I couldn't resist. Alone looking at her made me smile, filled me with laughter.
"I can't imagine ever rejecting you," I said with a smile while squeezing her. "This is odd." I scanned her face again. "I feel it like I know you, like I've known you all my life. Like you've always been there. And yet, when you say things like me ignoring you for too long, I get confused." I smiled at her, a bit worried about her reaction. "I look upon you, hear you, feel you and I know instantly that you're a person I love and am attracted to. You're so beautiful, so full of life, so open, so loving. And I can't imagine myself ever refusing you anything or not want to spend time with you."
She listened to my words with a brilliant smile, silently encouraging me to continue. I felt safe with her, as if it didn't matter what I said or felt as long as if it was the truth, my sincere opinion. She'd love me the same no matter what.
"If I had seen you, I would have walked over to you like I did today. Had you invited me to a hug, I wouldn't have been able to resist it. I can't believe that I've rejected you. It seems completely wrong."
She gave me one of those soft loving looks that makes your knees go weak ,"Yes, you didn't see me my friend, you choose not to."
I gabed at her words. I choose it? How was that possible? Again I protested while drawing her closer to me. "How could I choose not to see someone as radiant as you?" I peered at her eyes, hoping to find some logical explanation. She just shook her head, a patient smile playing over her lips and her eyes twinkling in merriment. She distracted me by asking how I found the tea. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it.
The conversation continued for hours. She made us another pot of tea and fund some cookies as well. The topics ranged wide. We talked about everything between earth and sky. And even about something beneath as well. She was a wonderful conversation partner. Loved to discuss topics form many different angles, always able to see a situation from the other side. Her wit was sharp, her intelligence keen and easily a match for my own. She had a wonderful sense of humour and would joke or laugh often to ease the tension when the discussion became heated.
As the night turned into dawn I found myself lying next to her, holding her closely and drifting into sleep. I was in love with this woman. Like I had never loved anyone before. I felt complete.
She was amazing. So many qualities and attractive sides. I already felt I knew her better than myself, and the more I had learned, the more I loved her. Sure she had some faults and less attractive sides, but all I could see, all that truly mattered were the good ones. They outshone everything else. Both in numbers and in brightness. It was like comparing thousands of full-moons to a couple of candles on the lawn.
As I lay there with her in my arms I spoke to her, "You are so beautiful, so amazing. You seem so happy and content, so at ease with yourself, in balance, accepting yourself. I have never known anyone like you." She smiled at my words and snuggled closer to me.
"I know," she said, "I listen to what people tell me, I try to be open-minded and accept their critique. I use their ways of seeing me, the way they see my faults and flaws and use that as at tool to better understand myself. Once I see myself as I am, I can start working to change what I want to change."
I caressed her face tenderly, "But how do you do it, how can you keep working with yourself like that?"
"I'm stubborn and will-full, that's why," she grinned at me, "But seriously, I look at things and try to be realistic. I evaluate myself, look at what there is and what I don't like. Then I go through the things I'm dissatisfied with in my life and sort it up in two lists. One for the things I don't want to change, and one for the things I want to change. The stuff I want to change I then break down in small steps, and even smaller again, and then I just take one step at a time. It's really not more than that. It's easy to take just one step and focus on that. It's when you focus on the big goal that you lose faith in yourself. That's when you get overwhelmed and don't think you can do it."
I considered her words and agreed. "Do you try to become perfect," I said a bit uncertain about if she was compulsive in her chase for bettering herself.
"No," she laughed genuinely amused, "I know that nothing can be perfect, it's impossible. Perfection is something to strive for, to reach for, but you can never reach it."
"But how do you avoid despair? Striving for something that you know is impossible is just worthless?"
"It's not worthless to strive for, not as long as you know you've given your best and you can't do better. Then you've reached the real goal. Perfection isn't the real goal. As long as you've given your best, then you've succeeded."
She fell asleep in my arms and I lay awake thinking about this woman next to me.
She was a dreamer as well, dreams that gave her hope to believe that things will truly change if only she works hard enough for it. Dreams to give her motivation. But not these unrealistic dreams,. The dreams were the real sort. "Dreams will happen one day if only you believe in it and in yourself," she had said the words with conviction and determination. Her positive outlook was striking, I truly admired this in her.
"I know, deep down, that no matter what I really want I can reach any dream one day," she had smiled with confidence and grinned at me, "if only I work hard enough for it and am dedicated. I know this as deeply as I know I'm a woman and that I'm alive."
This impressive woman had insight and deep understanding. She knew she was her own greatest obstacle, not others. She also firmly believed that there is no failure, but only lessons to be learned, attempts to try to become better and finding the best path to success. No matter how success is defined. She was a fighter not allowing herself to give up. If she let go a project it was after careful consideration of if she was truly willing to pay and sacrifice to obtain the goal or not.
No matter how I argued with her, she'd say that anything can be changed if only we are willing to do the work. There would always be things we are not willing to change, but that's our own decision, not that of others. With a laugh I had agreed and had said, "Yes, you're right, at least as long as it's matters affecting yourself one way or another and doesn't defy the physical laws of the universe."
Strong determination, positive outlook, full of hope and faith, trusting and believing herself fully. These were only part of her fascinating character. She was curious, always willing to explore new paths and avenues, even if it scared her.
"Oh, I've been scared, very scared. Scared of change, scared of success, scared of being happy. I've been frozen with fear for what has faced me. But, I couldn't let that stop me. I had to go on. I had to face my fears and conquer them. Not give into my emotions and let them ruin me and set me up for failure. Only by conquering my fears, only by fighting my horror could I move forward and truly change myself. I had to do it for myself, by myself. I just can't help it, I need to grow and change."
"I can see that," I had said with a grin, "the passion is burning in your eyes."
"You know," squeezing my hand she had smiled, "Growth is the most important things there is, it is the purpose of life. Growth and knowledge. To grow and change for the better, to learn and become wise."
Another trait I admired in her was her love and compassion. She was so open and accepting, didn't judge me as I talked to her. She just accepted me as I am. She would offer advice and help me to change what I was dissatisfied with, but she didn't think less of me for having faults and errors. She would instead just reach out and support me to the best of her abilities. She had so much love to give that I at times became overwhelmed. It was an unconditional love.
This became even more evident as she had spoken of her daughter.
"I love her, more than anything in the world. I would kill anyone who harm her, I know that. Like a lioness protecting her cubs. She is the most important to me, the most intense and fulfilling love I have. What I feel for her is completely unconditional. No matter what she does or whom she is or how she behaves, I love her."
The love had shined from her and became almost physical.
"I spoil her too much, I can't help it at times. But I am firm too, I set down the rules because a child needs that. They need firm rules and consistency. If you don't give them that, you're going to harm them in the long run. Undermine their confidence and stop them from growing up as capable adults. I would never harm her if I can avoid it. But I know it can't be avoided. I analyse too much at times I must admit, but it helps me see when I make errors and mistakes. And once I see I've done a mistake I stop to fix it, to heal what might be broken. I'm not afraid of admitting I can be wrong or have been wrong. Everybody make errors and are wrong at times."
"A family is the core," she had explained to me, "the base for a person. You must always be able to count on and trust family. You must always do right and help out where it's possible. Family, like the very best of friends are those always there and supportive."
She tried to teach her daughter these qualities and tried to live by them. Loyalty and dedication to her friends and loved ones were complete. She would do anything in her power to help and protect them. Trust was an essential thing to her and betrayal of trust was probably the worse you could do. In all shades and variations.
I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly came to myself feeling cold. Then I realized she had slipped out of my arms and were in the kitchen making tea and toasts.
She came in with the breakfast greeting me with her warm smile, "Good morning," she said, "there's breakfast for you. I hope you slept well, for I slept like an angel. It's been so nice to lie with you again."
"Thanks, yeah, I slept great. At peace and fully relaxed. I didn't even notice I fell asleep."
She smiled at me, "I'm happy to hear that."
We ate our breakfast mostly in silence. I kept glancing at her, my heart skiping a beat every time I caught eye contact with her. I had seriously fallen in love with this woman.
Finishing my breakfast I turned to her and said, "Thank you so much for all you've done. Talking to you has really helped me. And you've been so hospitable and generous that I lack words, so open and accepting, so insightful. I'm so grateful."
"It's nothing," she said, "it's been a real pleasure to have you here. It was the least I could do for you. Just let me know if there's more I can help you with."
I stared at her for a moment, again surprised by how freely she gave. Time, home, advice, food, love. Anything within her means.
She grinned at me once more and said, "Really, it's nothing. I'd do the same for anyone I cared about. You're not the first I've helped." The amusement shone from her eyes again.
I smiled and nodded, of course, it still didn't make it less in my view and I was about to tell her when I again was stricken by her beauty and smile. By how her inner happiness and strength just shone out and animated her entire being. I sat there watching her eyes, completely absorbed in this woman.
"I love you," I told her with emotions chocking my voice and tears showing in my eyes. The words were much more intense and affecting me more than I had thought they would.
"I know," she said, "I am you."
I paused, a bit puzzled. My best friend? When she reached her arms out to hug me, I couldn't resist her and I gave her a big hug back. It felt good, as if something missing had just returned. I was whole again, completely content. I couldn't help but grin and then laugh with the joy as I felt her against me. This was wonderful.
After what felt like an eternity she stepped back. Holding my shoulders she looked me into the eyes and asked me, "How are you?"
"I'm fine," the usual answer. She grinned at me and said, "I asked, how are you?" She looked me into the eyes again, seeing more than anyone should see. "How are you really my dearest friend. Deep inside?" Her words penetrated me. I stood there just looking at her, feeling scared for some reason. I stammered a few words before clearing my throat, "Perhaps we should go somewhere else. I know of a nice café nearby."
She brightened at my words and instantly said, "Let's go to my place, you're always welcome and it's been so long."
I hesitated briefly before I was taken by her spirited energy. Who was this woman I instantly was falling in love with? I just wanted to open completely to her and let her in to see everything.
Her apartment was warm and welcoming. I felt at home instantly. It was a strange mix of styles and personalities, but I liked it. Perhaps because it was what I'd have done had I the courage.
Full of energy and happiness she directed me to a deep couch. With a grin she asked me if I still prefered Pu-erh tea and with a laugh I answered yes. "I do too," she said from the kitchen, "I just love that fermented, earthly flavour it has. "
I was amazed, "Yes, that's it," I called to her while settling in the couch, pulling a blanket over my legs. The same green as a beech forest on an early summer day, the same green as my favourite shirt.
She brought the tea and sat down next to me. Holding the steaming cup with one hand, I wrapped my other arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. With laughter she complied and snuggled against me. "You know, it's been too long since you've done that," she said while smiling at my eyes. "I've wanted to hug you so many times over these last years, but you've always been so distant, rejecting everything I tried."
I stared at her. What was she talking about? I was certain that I'd never refuse a hug from her. She was just too wonderful and amazing. Someone I couldn't resist. Alone looking at her made me smile, filled me with laughter.
"I can't imagine ever rejecting you," I said with a smile while squeezing her. "This is odd." I scanned her face again. "I feel it like I know you, like I've known you all my life. Like you've always been there. And yet, when you say things like me ignoring you for too long, I get confused." I smiled at her, a bit worried about her reaction. "I look upon you, hear you, feel you and I know instantly that you're a person I love and am attracted to. You're so beautiful, so full of life, so open, so loving. And I can't imagine myself ever refusing you anything or not want to spend time with you."
She listened to my words with a brilliant smile, silently encouraging me to continue. I felt safe with her, as if it didn't matter what I said or felt as long as if it was the truth, my sincere opinion. She'd love me the same no matter what.
"If I had seen you, I would have walked over to you like I did today. Had you invited me to a hug, I wouldn't have been able to resist it. I can't believe that I've rejected you. It seems completely wrong."
She gave me one of those soft loving looks that makes your knees go weak ,"Yes, you didn't see me my friend, you choose not to."
I gabed at her words. I choose it? How was that possible? Again I protested while drawing her closer to me. "How could I choose not to see someone as radiant as you?" I peered at her eyes, hoping to find some logical explanation. She just shook her head, a patient smile playing over her lips and her eyes twinkling in merriment. She distracted me by asking how I found the tea. To be honest, I had forgotten all about it.
The conversation continued for hours. She made us another pot of tea and fund some cookies as well. The topics ranged wide. We talked about everything between earth and sky. And even about something beneath as well. She was a wonderful conversation partner. Loved to discuss topics form many different angles, always able to see a situation from the other side. Her wit was sharp, her intelligence keen and easily a match for my own. She had a wonderful sense of humour and would joke or laugh often to ease the tension when the discussion became heated.
As the night turned into dawn I found myself lying next to her, holding her closely and drifting into sleep. I was in love with this woman. Like I had never loved anyone before. I felt complete.
She was amazing. So many qualities and attractive sides. I already felt I knew her better than myself, and the more I had learned, the more I loved her. Sure she had some faults and less attractive sides, but all I could see, all that truly mattered were the good ones. They outshone everything else. Both in numbers and in brightness. It was like comparing thousands of full-moons to a couple of candles on the lawn.
As I lay there with her in my arms I spoke to her, "You are so beautiful, so amazing. You seem so happy and content, so at ease with yourself, in balance, accepting yourself. I have never known anyone like you." She smiled at my words and snuggled closer to me.
"I know," she said, "I listen to what people tell me, I try to be open-minded and accept their critique. I use their ways of seeing me, the way they see my faults and flaws and use that as at tool to better understand myself. Once I see myself as I am, I can start working to change what I want to change."
I caressed her face tenderly, "But how do you do it, how can you keep working with yourself like that?"
"I'm stubborn and will-full, that's why," she grinned at me, "But seriously, I look at things and try to be realistic. I evaluate myself, look at what there is and what I don't like. Then I go through the things I'm dissatisfied with in my life and sort it up in two lists. One for the things I don't want to change, and one for the things I want to change. The stuff I want to change I then break down in small steps, and even smaller again, and then I just take one step at a time. It's really not more than that. It's easy to take just one step and focus on that. It's when you focus on the big goal that you lose faith in yourself. That's when you get overwhelmed and don't think you can do it."
I considered her words and agreed. "Do you try to become perfect," I said a bit uncertain about if she was compulsive in her chase for bettering herself.
"No," she laughed genuinely amused, "I know that nothing can be perfect, it's impossible. Perfection is something to strive for, to reach for, but you can never reach it."
"But how do you avoid despair? Striving for something that you know is impossible is just worthless?"
"It's not worthless to strive for, not as long as you know you've given your best and you can't do better. Then you've reached the real goal. Perfection isn't the real goal. As long as you've given your best, then you've succeeded."
She fell asleep in my arms and I lay awake thinking about this woman next to me.
She was a dreamer as well, dreams that gave her hope to believe that things will truly change if only she works hard enough for it. Dreams to give her motivation. But not these unrealistic dreams,. The dreams were the real sort. "Dreams will happen one day if only you believe in it and in yourself," she had said the words with conviction and determination. Her positive outlook was striking, I truly admired this in her.
"I know, deep down, that no matter what I really want I can reach any dream one day," she had smiled with confidence and grinned at me, "if only I work hard enough for it and am dedicated. I know this as deeply as I know I'm a woman and that I'm alive."
This impressive woman had insight and deep understanding. She knew she was her own greatest obstacle, not others. She also firmly believed that there is no failure, but only lessons to be learned, attempts to try to become better and finding the best path to success. No matter how success is defined. She was a fighter not allowing herself to give up. If she let go a project it was after careful consideration of if she was truly willing to pay and sacrifice to obtain the goal or not.
No matter how I argued with her, she'd say that anything can be changed if only we are willing to do the work. There would always be things we are not willing to change, but that's our own decision, not that of others. With a laugh I had agreed and had said, "Yes, you're right, at least as long as it's matters affecting yourself one way or another and doesn't defy the physical laws of the universe."
Strong determination, positive outlook, full of hope and faith, trusting and believing herself fully. These were only part of her fascinating character. She was curious, always willing to explore new paths and avenues, even if it scared her.
"Oh, I've been scared, very scared. Scared of change, scared of success, scared of being happy. I've been frozen with fear for what has faced me. But, I couldn't let that stop me. I had to go on. I had to face my fears and conquer them. Not give into my emotions and let them ruin me and set me up for failure. Only by conquering my fears, only by fighting my horror could I move forward and truly change myself. I had to do it for myself, by myself. I just can't help it, I need to grow and change."
"I can see that," I had said with a grin, "the passion is burning in your eyes."
"You know," squeezing my hand she had smiled, "Growth is the most important things there is, it is the purpose of life. Growth and knowledge. To grow and change for the better, to learn and become wise."
Another trait I admired in her was her love and compassion. She was so open and accepting, didn't judge me as I talked to her. She just accepted me as I am. She would offer advice and help me to change what I was dissatisfied with, but she didn't think less of me for having faults and errors. She would instead just reach out and support me to the best of her abilities. She had so much love to give that I at times became overwhelmed. It was an unconditional love.
This became even more evident as she had spoken of her daughter.
"I love her, more than anything in the world. I would kill anyone who harm her, I know that. Like a lioness protecting her cubs. She is the most important to me, the most intense and fulfilling love I have. What I feel for her is completely unconditional. No matter what she does or whom she is or how she behaves, I love her."
The love had shined from her and became almost physical.
"I spoil her too much, I can't help it at times. But I am firm too, I set down the rules because a child needs that. They need firm rules and consistency. If you don't give them that, you're going to harm them in the long run. Undermine their confidence and stop them from growing up as capable adults. I would never harm her if I can avoid it. But I know it can't be avoided. I analyse too much at times I must admit, but it helps me see when I make errors and mistakes. And once I see I've done a mistake I stop to fix it, to heal what might be broken. I'm not afraid of admitting I can be wrong or have been wrong. Everybody make errors and are wrong at times."
"A family is the core," she had explained to me, "the base for a person. You must always be able to count on and trust family. You must always do right and help out where it's possible. Family, like the very best of friends are those always there and supportive."
She tried to teach her daughter these qualities and tried to live by them. Loyalty and dedication to her friends and loved ones were complete. She would do anything in her power to help and protect them. Trust was an essential thing to her and betrayal of trust was probably the worse you could do. In all shades and variations.
I must have fallen asleep because I suddenly came to myself feeling cold. Then I realized she had slipped out of my arms and were in the kitchen making tea and toasts.
She came in with the breakfast greeting me with her warm smile, "Good morning," she said, "there's breakfast for you. I hope you slept well, for I slept like an angel. It's been so nice to lie with you again."
"Thanks, yeah, I slept great. At peace and fully relaxed. I didn't even notice I fell asleep."
She smiled at me, "I'm happy to hear that."
We ate our breakfast mostly in silence. I kept glancing at her, my heart skiping a beat every time I caught eye contact with her. I had seriously fallen in love with this woman.
Finishing my breakfast I turned to her and said, "Thank you so much for all you've done. Talking to you has really helped me. And you've been so hospitable and generous that I lack words, so open and accepting, so insightful. I'm so grateful."
"It's nothing," she said, "it's been a real pleasure to have you here. It was the least I could do for you. Just let me know if there's more I can help you with."
I stared at her for a moment, again surprised by how freely she gave. Time, home, advice, food, love. Anything within her means.
She grinned at me once more and said, "Really, it's nothing. I'd do the same for anyone I cared about. You're not the first I've helped." The amusement shone from her eyes again.
I smiled and nodded, of course, it still didn't make it less in my view and I was about to tell her when I again was stricken by her beauty and smile. By how her inner happiness and strength just shone out and animated her entire being. I sat there watching her eyes, completely absorbed in this woman.
"I love you," I told her with emotions chocking my voice and tears showing in my eyes. The words were much more intense and affecting me more than I had thought they would.
"I know," she said, "I am you."
10/11/2008
A memory of Chicago - part 3
Justice, the concept seemed out of our hands. What could we do as dead. As ghosts? But I had to believe, I needed that hope that somehow we could make wrong right again.
Anna voiced my doubts, "Do you really think that's possible? What can we do? We're stuck here." "I do not know. But together we must be able to come up with something. " I tried to sound convincing. "Like what? We can't even move the flames of the candle. How in God's name would we be able to get justice." Anna had a valid point and I had no answer. Some of my hope faded and I guess my expression was clear to those around.
"Certainly there must be a way," Carina said, "just look at all those ghost stories we have heard as children, the rattling chains, the slamming doors. Stories like that just don't happen on their own, there must be a reason for it." I paused, and so did Anna. I could see how this information sent her mind spinning. Silvia went to one of the candles. She crouched next to it and moved her hand through the flame. Nothing happened. She tried again.
"But how do they do it?" Anna paused gazing at the candles and Silvia. "Do we just touch things and they move? Or does it take more, something else?" I glanced at Silvia and Anna, uncertain of what to do.
"It doesn't seem to work." Silvia's voice was curious, "It must be possible, one way or another, somehow." Silvia tried again, but the flame remained unmoving. "Surely there's a way," she said, while trying again and again. "Perhaps if I focus enough on it." She sat there, gazing intently at the flame and kept moving her hand through it. The rest of us drifted closer, watching what she was trying.
"If the stories are true, that is." Anna straightened her back, "Do you really think you can do it?" Silvia glanced at Anna, "Sure I can, if only I try hard enough. Anything is possible." Silvia returned to her task, determined to succeed. Anna huffed, her unspoken skepticism clearly showed.
"But what difference is it gonna make if ya can make a flame move? That won't bring us justice ya know. Justice would be to kill him, to make him suffer like he did us." Helena again tried to take charge of the situation.
"How are you going to kill him if you can't touch him, Helena?", Anna said, "I don't think hurting him will bring any justice. Forgiveness is what God teaches us. We must forgive him to leave here, to go to Heaven. Why else are we not already with God? Why are we here in this room?"
That question made us all pause. "What are you saying, aren't we going to Heaven? Is this our punishment?" Sheila sounded very scared.
"Perhaps, perhaps it's because," Maria's quiet voice came as a surprise. She hesitated and I sent her a small encouraging smile. "Perhaps it's because we're meant to do something." She dropped her gaze and quickly mumbled, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
Anna voiced my doubts, "Do you really think that's possible? What can we do? We're stuck here." "I do not know. But together we must be able to come up with something. " I tried to sound convincing. "Like what? We can't even move the flames of the candle. How in God's name would we be able to get justice." Anna had a valid point and I had no answer. Some of my hope faded and I guess my expression was clear to those around.
"Certainly there must be a way," Carina said, "just look at all those ghost stories we have heard as children, the rattling chains, the slamming doors. Stories like that just don't happen on their own, there must be a reason for it." I paused, and so did Anna. I could see how this information sent her mind spinning. Silvia went to one of the candles. She crouched next to it and moved her hand through the flame. Nothing happened. She tried again.
"But how do they do it?" Anna paused gazing at the candles and Silvia. "Do we just touch things and they move? Or does it take more, something else?" I glanced at Silvia and Anna, uncertain of what to do.
"It doesn't seem to work." Silvia's voice was curious, "It must be possible, one way or another, somehow." Silvia tried again, but the flame remained unmoving. "Surely there's a way," she said, while trying again and again. "Perhaps if I focus enough on it." She sat there, gazing intently at the flame and kept moving her hand through it. The rest of us drifted closer, watching what she was trying.
"If the stories are true, that is." Anna straightened her back, "Do you really think you can do it?" Silvia glanced at Anna, "Sure I can, if only I try hard enough. Anything is possible." Silvia returned to her task, determined to succeed. Anna huffed, her unspoken skepticism clearly showed.
"But what difference is it gonna make if ya can make a flame move? That won't bring us justice ya know. Justice would be to kill him, to make him suffer like he did us." Helena again tried to take charge of the situation.
"How are you going to kill him if you can't touch him, Helena?", Anna said, "I don't think hurting him will bring any justice. Forgiveness is what God teaches us. We must forgive him to leave here, to go to Heaven. Why else are we not already with God? Why are we here in this room?"
That question made us all pause. "What are you saying, aren't we going to Heaven? Is this our punishment?" Sheila sounded very scared.
"Perhaps, perhaps it's because," Maria's quiet voice came as a surprise. She hesitated and I sent her a small encouraging smile. "Perhaps it's because we're meant to do something." She dropped her gaze and quickly mumbled, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
10/10/2008
A memory of Chicago - part 2
The room was silent. The bodies lay unmoving on the floor, not even their ghosts moved. Shock penetrated the very air I no longer breathed. One by one I noticed how the other girls realized their own death. Agony tearing over their faces, voiceless screams filling the void where life had once run.
Their reaction was not so different from my own, and yet, they seemed unable to think, to step out of their fear. They did not see each other or me, only their bodies before them. One paced the room restlessly, unable to keep still for more than a brief moment. Others knelt by their bodies, touching it with disbelief. Over and over reliving the moment of horror and betrayal when their life was taken from them. The fair-haired girl just stood there, staring at the wall. Completely numb, reflecting my own feelings. Another of the girls tried to kick the candles standing on the floor, but each time she tried nothing happened. Only the flame flickered so very briefly that I suspected it was a figment of my imagination.
I turned my back to the room, needing to get away from it, to forget what had happened. I stared out of the window as time passed. The night deepened only to grow lighter again. Shapes became recognizable figures in the fog, the nightman walked down the street when the world had become a light grey. One after the other he extinguished the lights, whistling his usual happy tune. Slowly the street woke to life, water poured out of a window opposite me, the early workers trudging towards the harbour, the man delivering at the doorsteps and tussled women quickly grabbing the bottles before hurrying inside.
For a blissful moment I forgot all about the scene behind me. I marvelled in the sounds and views the street below me provided. As if seeing it for the first time. I wondered why I had never noticed all the details before. Completely taken by the life before me, I felt a sudden pang of regret. I was dead. I would never again taste the fresh bread from the bakery, never taste mamas tomato sauce and pasta, never hear my little brother laugh with joy, never pet the cat who visited me in the early evenings.
Finally I returned to the situation before me. The life outside the window was me denied, it would never be mine again. Staring at the carnage in front of me, I felt a strong anger. Anger at the man who had taken my life. Anger at the betrayal. It fired me like a hungry flame, willing me into action. I had to do something. This ritual we had all been involved in was certainly no act of God. With burning passion I knew I had to find justice. I had to make sure this man, this devil, never again would take the life of another.
I stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the bodies lying on the floor. I would not look at them. Looking at the blood and death would just send me back into the numb scream again. I could not allow for that to happen. Slowly I made my way to the fair-haired girl and stood before her her. She did not react, it was like she couldn't see me. I waved my hands at her face and only a flicker in her eyes was returned. "Sheila, do you hear me?" Another flicker and I had hope I could get through to her. "Sheila, listen to me, you got to break out of that, we got to do something." Confusion coloured her expression and slowly her focus shifted. I smiled at her, though faintly. There was not much to smile about. "Yes?" Hesitation slured her words. Perhaps it was better for her to just forget about the pain. I shook my head, no, we had to work together to deal with this. I could not do it on my own. We had all be wronged.
"Sheila," speaking her name seemed to have the most effect, and I repeated it until she finally focused on me. "What happened? Why am I here?" I watched her eyes. Uncertain of what to say or do, I gave her time. "Why am I not feeling anything? Where am I?" She took her eyes of me and turned to the room. A scream escaped her lips and she covered her face with her hands. "No!" The pain in her voice was tangible. "I can't be dead, it can't be true. It was just a bad dream, a dream. He wouldn't do this, he couldn't."
The others in the room slowly turned their attention to us and drifted closer. Sheila saw them come and stepped backward. She held up her hands as if to protect herself. "No, he couldn't have, why would he, I loved him." So that was why she had joined us. Love. A romantic dream. I felt for her. His betrayal of her was greater than of me. A sudden flash of insight, and I knew that he had played us all. Appealing to our dreams, to what we desired. He had known Sheila's love and promised her it would be returned. Just like he had promised me a change, a chance to escape my poor life.
This made me wonder what promises he had given the others. It was easy to guess Helena, her desire for power and control had always been poorly hidden. It was also she who spoke now. "It's obvious, isn't it Sheila." He betrayed us, he murdered us." Sheila closed her eyes, trying to deny the facts before her, but Helena continued, "He is a fraud. A mean bastard. Ya're a fool to listen to him, an idiot." Sheila shrank even more and tried to hide behind me. "No, he loved me, he told me he loved me." Helena snorted, "Yeah right, and I'm the queen of Sheba. Look lass, he fooled us all and killed us all. Stop ya whining, ya can't change what happened anyway."
"No, but we can do something about it." I stepped forward, my anger once again fuelling me into action I would not have dared in the past. "We can do something about it, we can get justice."
Their reaction was not so different from my own, and yet, they seemed unable to think, to step out of their fear. They did not see each other or me, only their bodies before them. One paced the room restlessly, unable to keep still for more than a brief moment. Others knelt by their bodies, touching it with disbelief. Over and over reliving the moment of horror and betrayal when their life was taken from them. The fair-haired girl just stood there, staring at the wall. Completely numb, reflecting my own feelings. Another of the girls tried to kick the candles standing on the floor, but each time she tried nothing happened. Only the flame flickered so very briefly that I suspected it was a figment of my imagination.
I turned my back to the room, needing to get away from it, to forget what had happened. I stared out of the window as time passed. The night deepened only to grow lighter again. Shapes became recognizable figures in the fog, the nightman walked down the street when the world had become a light grey. One after the other he extinguished the lights, whistling his usual happy tune. Slowly the street woke to life, water poured out of a window opposite me, the early workers trudging towards the harbour, the man delivering at the doorsteps and tussled women quickly grabbing the bottles before hurrying inside.
For a blissful moment I forgot all about the scene behind me. I marvelled in the sounds and views the street below me provided. As if seeing it for the first time. I wondered why I had never noticed all the details before. Completely taken by the life before me, I felt a sudden pang of regret. I was dead. I would never again taste the fresh bread from the bakery, never taste mamas tomato sauce and pasta, never hear my little brother laugh with joy, never pet the cat who visited me in the early evenings.
Finally I returned to the situation before me. The life outside the window was me denied, it would never be mine again. Staring at the carnage in front of me, I felt a strong anger. Anger at the man who had taken my life. Anger at the betrayal. It fired me like a hungry flame, willing me into action. I had to do something. This ritual we had all been involved in was certainly no act of God. With burning passion I knew I had to find justice. I had to make sure this man, this devil, never again would take the life of another.
I stepped into the room, carefully avoiding the bodies lying on the floor. I would not look at them. Looking at the blood and death would just send me back into the numb scream again. I could not allow for that to happen. Slowly I made my way to the fair-haired girl and stood before her her. She did not react, it was like she couldn't see me. I waved my hands at her face and only a flicker in her eyes was returned. "Sheila, do you hear me?" Another flicker and I had hope I could get through to her. "Sheila, listen to me, you got to break out of that, we got to do something." Confusion coloured her expression and slowly her focus shifted. I smiled at her, though faintly. There was not much to smile about. "Yes?" Hesitation slured her words. Perhaps it was better for her to just forget about the pain. I shook my head, no, we had to work together to deal with this. I could not do it on my own. We had all be wronged.
"Sheila," speaking her name seemed to have the most effect, and I repeated it until she finally focused on me. "What happened? Why am I here?" I watched her eyes. Uncertain of what to say or do, I gave her time. "Why am I not feeling anything? Where am I?" She took her eyes of me and turned to the room. A scream escaped her lips and she covered her face with her hands. "No!" The pain in her voice was tangible. "I can't be dead, it can't be true. It was just a bad dream, a dream. He wouldn't do this, he couldn't."
The others in the room slowly turned their attention to us and drifted closer. Sheila saw them come and stepped backward. She held up her hands as if to protect herself. "No, he couldn't have, why would he, I loved him." So that was why she had joined us. Love. A romantic dream. I felt for her. His betrayal of her was greater than of me. A sudden flash of insight, and I knew that he had played us all. Appealing to our dreams, to what we desired. He had known Sheila's love and promised her it would be returned. Just like he had promised me a change, a chance to escape my poor life.
This made me wonder what promises he had given the others. It was easy to guess Helena, her desire for power and control had always been poorly hidden. It was also she who spoke now. "It's obvious, isn't it Sheila." He betrayed us, he murdered us." Sheila closed her eyes, trying to deny the facts before her, but Helena continued, "He is a fraud. A mean bastard. Ya're a fool to listen to him, an idiot." Sheila shrank even more and tried to hide behind me. "No, he loved me, he told me he loved me." Helena snorted, "Yeah right, and I'm the queen of Sheba. Look lass, he fooled us all and killed us all. Stop ya whining, ya can't change what happened anyway."
"No, but we can do something about it." I stepped forward, my anger once again fuelling me into action I would not have dared in the past. "We can do something about it, we can get justice."
10/07/2008
A memory of Chicago - part 1
We stood in a circle, all watching the man before us. He spoke in hushed tones, mystical words that I did not understand. Phrases of ancient origin. Raptly we absorbed his words, swaying lightly to the melody of his voice. It was hypnotic, catching us all in a spell. The pentagram in the centre of the circle was drawn with white chalk, lines crossing the coarse boards of the floor. Five black candles stood in each corner, casting flickering shadows on the bare walls behind us.
From the outside I heard a horse carriage pass by over the cobblestones. A sound so typical for this part of the city where nobody could afford one of the rare automobiles. The sound disappeared into the thick fog that covered the night, lending another eerie aspect to the ritual before us. I cast a glimpse out of the window and saw the street deserted beneath us. The only thing alive was the flickering gas lamps barely able to penetrate the gloom. It was like the night had just gotten darker.
The thin shift I wore scratched my soft skin. Made of coarse hemp, it barely served to keep out the damp and cold of the room. I dared a quick glance at the others standing in the circle. All young women as myself, barely come into adulthood. Completely absorbed by the man before us, the saviour we called him. All eyes were fixed upon him. I seemed to be the only one not completely caught up in the ritual and his voice. Would what we attempted fail due to my lack of concentration?
I forced myself to focus. Shutting out the voice of a stray dog barking somewhere down the street. When the chant began, my voice joined the chorus and as the words got stronger I felt myself get caught up in the ritual. Odd sensations swept through my body and I felt my head become lighter, as if I was separating myself from my flesh. Only his voice mattered, only his voice was heard. There was nothing else. Thrills made me shiver, an anticipation stronger than anything I had previously known. Unknown sensations which I didn't have words for.
"Close your eyes and listen only to my voice," his voice seemed like a ray of bright light, "listen to my voice and feel how you become lighter and lighter." I swayed and lost even more contact with my physical self. "My voice is your guide, it is your light, your beacon. Heed it and become one with the energy building right here in the centre. Feel it, feel how the light is extending to embrace you all. Feel how the bright light is coming to take you."
With my eyes closed, I only listened to his voice; absorbed, taken, seduced. He kept on chanting in low tones, the words impossible to catch. It felt like I floated above myself, only connected by a slight overlap. What a magnificent experience, so unique and special. All I sensed before my closed eyes was the light he had described. Like a bright flame before us, filling the entire pentagram, outshining the light from the candles. Blinding, strong.
His voice seemed to shift around, and yet, I knew he was standing in the circle. It wove around us like the morning fog at the shore. Fingers extended, touching the naked branches and single leaves left after the last storm. For each verse he chanted, the light seemed to become brighter, more intense, as did his words. He sounded excited, anticipating what would come. I wasn't sure of what precisely this ritual was about. But I trusted him, as we all did. He had a talent to make people trust him and follow him. He was our saviour, our liberator, the one who could bring us further than we had ever dreamt about.
Suddenly I felt his hand over my mouth. He stood behind me. I tensed, returning to my body with a snap. "Trust me," were the only words he whispered to my ear. Instantly I relaxed, my heartbeat slowed and I savoured his touch. I doubt any of us had not longed for that touch, that embrace at some point during these last months while we prepared for this ritual. I felt my knees grow weak and new thrills raked my body. A feeling I couldn't put a name to. I just know I savoured his touch, desired more of it. "That is much better, my little angel," he placed a light kiss upon my neck as his breath warmed my skin.
Something cold press against my throat, and then a sharp pain soared through me. I tried to scream, but my voice would not work. I felt heat rise in my head before growing lighter and lighter. The last I remembered was his hand gently catching me as I lost my balance. He lowered me to the floor. The world grew dark.
Vision returned. I was standing. Without comprehension I looked around me, trying to understand where I was and what was going on. The candles had burned low, they were the first to draw my attention. I stared at the flames for a while, my gaze darting between them. Then I remembered. The pain. I raised my hand to my throat, but felt nothing. Confused I looked around, for the first time shifting my attention outside the pentagram. That was when I saw it.
The man, our saviour cradled one of the girls in his arms, her white shift was stained dark. I realized then it was blood. Her throat had a gabing wound and the blood poured from it. He lowered her to the ground and stood up. A very satisfied smile made his face look horrific. He was panting and trembling, filled with an unfamiliar energy. He licked his lips and sucked the knife held clean for blood.
I screamed, loudly, wanting to run away from the scene. But I could not move. My feet would not obey me. He didn't react to my voice. He walked around the circle kneeling briefly by each body lying on the floor. A kiss placed upon their foreheads as he sliced open the shifts, revealing the naked bodies underneath. Young bodies which had never known the touch of a man before. He gazed upon what was revealed to him and then cut off a bloody strip. Slowly he made his way around the circle and with horror I saw him kneel next to me. I stepped back, fearful he would kill me. But he gave the body at my feet the same treatment as the others, the kiss, the revelation, the souvenir and moved on.
With sudden realization I knew it was my own body lying before me. I was dead. Again horror tried to voice itself, but only silence answered. Now I noticed the others standing with a confused look on their faces. Unseeing, uncomprehending, not understanding.
He left the room and the bodies behind. One long wishful glance at the scene before he closed the door behind him. I heard him walk down the stairs and onto the street below. Now I could move and rushed to the window seeing him disappearing into the fog. A dog growled from an alley. Numbly I stood there. Having a difficult time comprehending what had happened. How I had gotten involved in this. Trying to understand this deep betrayal of not only myself, but of the six other girls in the room.
From the outside I heard a horse carriage pass by over the cobblestones. A sound so typical for this part of the city where nobody could afford one of the rare automobiles. The sound disappeared into the thick fog that covered the night, lending another eerie aspect to the ritual before us. I cast a glimpse out of the window and saw the street deserted beneath us. The only thing alive was the flickering gas lamps barely able to penetrate the gloom. It was like the night had just gotten darker.
The thin shift I wore scratched my soft skin. Made of coarse hemp, it barely served to keep out the damp and cold of the room. I dared a quick glance at the others standing in the circle. All young women as myself, barely come into adulthood. Completely absorbed by the man before us, the saviour we called him. All eyes were fixed upon him. I seemed to be the only one not completely caught up in the ritual and his voice. Would what we attempted fail due to my lack of concentration?
I forced myself to focus. Shutting out the voice of a stray dog barking somewhere down the street. When the chant began, my voice joined the chorus and as the words got stronger I felt myself get caught up in the ritual. Odd sensations swept through my body and I felt my head become lighter, as if I was separating myself from my flesh. Only his voice mattered, only his voice was heard. There was nothing else. Thrills made me shiver, an anticipation stronger than anything I had previously known. Unknown sensations which I didn't have words for.
"Close your eyes and listen only to my voice," his voice seemed like a ray of bright light, "listen to my voice and feel how you become lighter and lighter." I swayed and lost even more contact with my physical self. "My voice is your guide, it is your light, your beacon. Heed it and become one with the energy building right here in the centre. Feel it, feel how the light is extending to embrace you all. Feel how the bright light is coming to take you."
With my eyes closed, I only listened to his voice; absorbed, taken, seduced. He kept on chanting in low tones, the words impossible to catch. It felt like I floated above myself, only connected by a slight overlap. What a magnificent experience, so unique and special. All I sensed before my closed eyes was the light he had described. Like a bright flame before us, filling the entire pentagram, outshining the light from the candles. Blinding, strong.
His voice seemed to shift around, and yet, I knew he was standing in the circle. It wove around us like the morning fog at the shore. Fingers extended, touching the naked branches and single leaves left after the last storm. For each verse he chanted, the light seemed to become brighter, more intense, as did his words. He sounded excited, anticipating what would come. I wasn't sure of what precisely this ritual was about. But I trusted him, as we all did. He had a talent to make people trust him and follow him. He was our saviour, our liberator, the one who could bring us further than we had ever dreamt about.
Suddenly I felt his hand over my mouth. He stood behind me. I tensed, returning to my body with a snap. "Trust me," were the only words he whispered to my ear. Instantly I relaxed, my heartbeat slowed and I savoured his touch. I doubt any of us had not longed for that touch, that embrace at some point during these last months while we prepared for this ritual. I felt my knees grow weak and new thrills raked my body. A feeling I couldn't put a name to. I just know I savoured his touch, desired more of it. "That is much better, my little angel," he placed a light kiss upon my neck as his breath warmed my skin.
Something cold press against my throat, and then a sharp pain soared through me. I tried to scream, but my voice would not work. I felt heat rise in my head before growing lighter and lighter. The last I remembered was his hand gently catching me as I lost my balance. He lowered me to the floor. The world grew dark.
Vision returned. I was standing. Without comprehension I looked around me, trying to understand where I was and what was going on. The candles had burned low, they were the first to draw my attention. I stared at the flames for a while, my gaze darting between them. Then I remembered. The pain. I raised my hand to my throat, but felt nothing. Confused I looked around, for the first time shifting my attention outside the pentagram. That was when I saw it.
The man, our saviour cradled one of the girls in his arms, her white shift was stained dark. I realized then it was blood. Her throat had a gabing wound and the blood poured from it. He lowered her to the ground and stood up. A very satisfied smile made his face look horrific. He was panting and trembling, filled with an unfamiliar energy. He licked his lips and sucked the knife held clean for blood.
I screamed, loudly, wanting to run away from the scene. But I could not move. My feet would not obey me. He didn't react to my voice. He walked around the circle kneeling briefly by each body lying on the floor. A kiss placed upon their foreheads as he sliced open the shifts, revealing the naked bodies underneath. Young bodies which had never known the touch of a man before. He gazed upon what was revealed to him and then cut off a bloody strip. Slowly he made his way around the circle and with horror I saw him kneel next to me. I stepped back, fearful he would kill me. But he gave the body at my feet the same treatment as the others, the kiss, the revelation, the souvenir and moved on.
With sudden realization I knew it was my own body lying before me. I was dead. Again horror tried to voice itself, but only silence answered. Now I noticed the others standing with a confused look on their faces. Unseeing, uncomprehending, not understanding.
He left the room and the bodies behind. One long wishful glance at the scene before he closed the door behind him. I heard him walk down the stairs and onto the street below. Now I could move and rushed to the window seeing him disappearing into the fog. A dog growled from an alley. Numbly I stood there. Having a difficult time comprehending what had happened. How I had gotten involved in this. Trying to understand this deep betrayal of not only myself, but of the six other girls in the room.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)