The breeze is calmer now. It was never a hurricane to begin
with, but the moment that first glimmer of light beyond the sea came up,
everything quietened down. The sun's gorgeous disk is not yet in sight,
probably still waiting for him to make up his mind. He had no idea what he
wanted, expected or cared about at that time. Did it matter anyway?
An orange glow through the clouds brightens the sky. Just
another day. Just another year. It was to be expected, after all, nothing too
exciting ever happened. Why should today be any different? He muses to himself.
Why should tomorrow?
The sand is just so soft, the scent of the waves so
soothing. It isn't a bad day, not by any stretch of the imagination. So then
why can he not escape the feeling of hopelessness? That void in his very being
which cannot be expressed or shared. Yes, that's it, he wants today to mean
something, anything.
It all started with a joke. "Hey guys," he
remembers saying with excitement, "I've got a plan for Christmas."
Then he waited, looking at the puzzled faces of his friends. "Are
we...supposed to guess?" spoke Phillip , after a brief pause. "Oh,
oh," Kate feigned some interest, "mime it, you know..." she
laughingly gestured holding a camera, then raising two fingers, as if they were
playing charades. Everyone burst out laughing, waking up Sam who had passed out
on the couch the previous night. "What...what are we guessing!" Sam
asked, still half-asleep. "We're not guessing anything, Sammy boy,"
Matt leaned back in his chair, to look at Sam, now rubbing his eyes,
"we're waiting to hear the greatest plan ever from our man, Darren,
here."
Such a distant memory now. The details were slipping from
his mind, not because he did not care to remember, because he was so focused on
other things, which took precedence in his mind. "Well, I never said it
was the greatest plan ever..." he had said, smiling and crossing his arms,
"...but you know, it could quite possibly be, the greatest." Then, in
unison, Sophie and Mandy, from across the room shouted out: "Tell
us!"
"Okay, you ready?" his gaze shifting from person
to person, drawing them in. "What's this winter?" Giving them time to
think, he then spoke up: "December twenty-first...twenty-twelve..."
Then, silence. Phillip spoke first: "Oh, that end of the world BS? What
about it?" Darren fought to find the right words: "Where best to
party it up, this winter, than...Australia?"
Sam was barely keeping himself awake: "Wait, wait. Let
me get this right. So you wanna go to a place...where it's not winter...for winter?"
Puzzled looks all around. All until Matt looked as if something had just sunk
in: "Eff me. It's genius!" Looking around, he said slowly: "The
end of the world party...at the end of the world. This is gonna be epic. Wait
here," he jumped out of his chair, "I need to make some phone
calls...we can so make this happen..."
It had started with a joke, one that no-one truly
understood, perhaps not even him. His motivation to be there slowly turned to
anxiety, then to apathy, sprinkled with cynicism. Reading all those crazy
forums about ascension, shifting to higher vibrations, dimensions, a truer
understanding of consciousness, and the world, did not help him get a good
grasp of what that day meant. The fact that he could not talk to his friends
was even worse. Closest group of people he ever had, yet when metaphysics was
involved, he was alone.
Lifting his head, bracing himself up with his elbows, he now
saw the waves clearly. A yellow sun moved across the waters and the scent of
the ocean slowly washed over him. Remembering how much he had looked forward to
that day gave him pause for thought. The others were still in their hotel rooms
after last night's party, the precursor to 'the greatest party of all time'.
His music player pumps Johnny Cash through the headphones and he lays himself
back in the sand, his palms under his head, his gaze wandering through the dim
blue sky.
Ten minutes later, he checks his watch. Then, raising
himself up, crossing his legs in front of him, Darren looks forward. The sun is
fully above the waves. The sight keeps him looking on, unaware of all else,
caught in the moment. Mesmerised, he barely notices the whisper beside him.
Taking off the headphones, he quickly looks right. A woman in her mid-twenties,
sun-kissed skin and golden white hair, keeps her gaze towards the rising star.
"Sorry?" Darren excuses himself and hears the
sound of the waves for the first time that morning.
"We're all still here" her voice resonates in
clear tones as she lets out a short laugh.
After the meaning of her words reach him, he joins in the
laughter. "Seems so. But the day's not over yet." Looking back out at
the waves, he continues: "I gotta say, I expected something more..."
"Something more?" her voice questions gently.
Turning back, he explains: "I dunno, I thought things
would change after today..."
"Things are always changing...you're always changing.
The day holds as much meaning as you want."
"Is being cryptic the new thing these days?" He
smiles as a realisation hits him. "Name's Darren" he says and extends
a hand.
"If you insist it is..." she smiles broadly and
continues, "Vera." Shaking his hand, she then turns her gaze back
towards the sunrise.
"Well, if it holds as much meaning as I want, then it
doesn't mean much, does it?"
"Yes" she answers firmly, to which Darren is taken
aback. "If you so desire" she continues, throwing him a puzzling
look.
He intends to question her about it, but words seem
inappropriate, even clumsy, to the purpose behind them. "I don't
know" he replies instead, "I thought that it would mean something
monumental, catastrophic, a turning point."
"Well, that's the problem," she turns to him
smiling, "by externalising your expectations you find that when things
don't turn out as you presume them to unfold, you find them
underwhelming."
Taking a moment to process her words, he is surprised to
find himself smiling: "You're not from around here, are you?"
"Not particularly" she states slowly, a smile he
cannot decipher.
"So, you decided to also have a look at the sunrise,
see if we have a second sun in the sky or if massive solar flares decide to
greet us today?"
"No, but that's why you're here."
"What do you mean?" he asks with a distinct sense
of dread.
"Well, you could be back at the hotel right now,
killing time with cigarettes, banter and merriment. But you made a conscious
choice to be here, by yourself, trying to find an answer, any answer, to the
question that's eating you up inside. And I can tell you the question is not what will happen today, but will you allow yourself to believe most of
the details you found about today and about reality?"
The waves wash ashore like clockwork. The breeze picks up.
Darren looks at the young woman for countless seconds.
"How can you possibly know that?" he asks, almost
raising himself to his feet. The sunlight flickers in his view and sounds fade
in and out of his awareness. His conscious experience becomes questionable.
"We don't have much time now" she speaks, in a
manner that is much too serious for the peaceful soul he remembers just
meeting. "Listen to my words. You need to understand how we can meet
again. You need to relinquish your old precepts about reality. Believe that you
will see me. If you will be able to remember this, then we will meet...and you
will have your answer."
Her voice warps as the light rays blur together. Johnny Cash
is strumming his guitar and motion seems to fade. The very action of remaining
conscious is exhausting. His vision is invaded by colours playing to their own
music, dancing into geometry. Then, in a heartbeat, his vision blackens and his
eyes open. The waves move in the distance as he is sitting up on the soft sand.
A dream? How could it possibly be a dream? The air was fresh
and it carried the morning to his senses. The conversation had been so vivid.
Every single word was crisp and clear in his mind. Yet here he was and, to his
right, there was no-one. With a swift motion, his headphones fly off and he
looks at his watch. The solstice sun is on the brink of the horizon. His eyes
gaze at the rising disk as his mind drifts, to her words, her acknowledgments,
the certainty and intensity in her speech. She is real. That much he tells
himself he knows. However they had spoken, he knows she couldn't simply be an
imagined perception.
The sun raises itself with one final push above the waves.
The sweet amber rays traverse the ocean and he witnesses a spectacle of
dancing, shimmering light. Yes, he is still there, the rest of the world is
till probably there. But he cares so very little about that now.
Precepts. What about them? What did she mean about precepts
of reality? He can't make heads or tails of what she was referring to. How
could belief alter perception? What does he need to relinquish? The questions
storm around his mind and then subside. The morning is more perfect and
beautiful than any he remembers or wants to envision. He is a captive of every
single facet of that moment. His thoughts coalesce and he ponders on only one
question: how could so much life, beauty, mystery, sheer sensation of being
could ever be contained by one name, Vera?
Gathering his things, he walks slowly away, still focusing
on the moment. Reaching tarmac, his bare feet feel the cold road beneath them,
however, he does not. The mind that was once his solace, his refuge, is now an
open field, barriers seem meaningless and this disturbs him, for in the one
place he had felt comfort in retreat, he now sees only questions, fragmented,
incomplete understanding and, most of all, uncertainty.
The hotel feels different. Tall glass windows reflect the
still faint light as if through a prism. Everything has far more detail than he
remembered or acknowledged before. Walking up to the triple room he shared with
Phillip and Kate, he finds the door ajar. Through the corridor and across the
room, Phillip and Sam are leaning out the balcony, enjoying some quality
tobacco they had gotten from duty free.
"Hey" whispers Phillip, leaning to his side as Sam
stares on, past the road ahead, straight to the brightening horizon. They speak
no further as Sam hands him a pack and a lighter. He feels no craving but he
enjoys this moment. Lighting up, he senses air filling his lungs, exiting and
he is taken aback again by the vivid, detailed nature of this experience.
Kate wakes up and joins them. Her yawn propagates through
each of them in turn as Phillip opens a bottle of beer. Handing the first to
Sam, then Darren, he places the last two in the hands of a half-asleep Kate, as
he lights up another cigarette.
"Not at six in the morning..." mumbles Kate,
putting the bottles down and grabbing Phillip like a plush toy.
"We have to start early on," smiles Sam,
"otherwise it's not considered a party. Won't get into details, it gets
pretty complex, but it's an unwritten rule...can't do nothing about it, right
D-man?"
"The man's right," Darren replies and finds
himself laughing as he tries to keep a straight face on, "super ancient
rule...goes back to at least last Tuesday."
The laughter of his friends is so intoxicating, a melody of
joy that helps center his feelings. It matters not what they know, what they
think of that day, reality, consciousness. They are there, enjoying that one
moment of existence with him, and that counts far more than any answers,
expectations or judgments that may ever be brought to his wandering mind.
The rest of the group joins them. Jokes are told and re-imagined
as the sheer energy of their life is condensed to that one place and time among
all the unique moments they may ever experience. Time flows, the energy
subsides and the group leave for breakfast. Darren walks among them but his
mind traverses the simple actions and reaches out for an understanding he knows
is within his grasp.
Something within slowly reaches to the level of the haphazard
thoughts he is now observing. He knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all of
his awareness means so much more than even a day or a week before. She is out
there, she must be. He knows he will lay eyes on her again. A certainty, an
affirmation, that he cannot explain.
In the split second Matt suggests heading into town, Darren
feels synchronicity finally playing its role. Following the root of this
understanding, he realizes that something in his very state of being is
changing. All the anxiety he had ever felt about that day is gone. His reality,
the dream-like flow of
moments he now sees can be acknowledged, understood, not in
words, the crude things that they are, not even in ideas, but in pure feelings
and time-less gnosis.
It is in this state that he reaches the bustling center of
the city. While meandering through the streets, among the markets and shops, a
decision reaches a conclusion. He must leave. The decision to venture out from
his friends does not come lightly and he promises he will return. It is a
promise he cannot guarantee but he feels compelled to reassure them of his
return, as if something is pulling them apart and the only means of stopping
this knowledge from becoming a certainty is his opposition.
He smiles and glances one last time in their direction as
they walk away. Phillip, the friend he had known since childhood, looks back.
His slow wave is almost an acknowledgment, that if they were never to meet
again, they would still remember all the good times, all the hardships they had
lived through.
To anyone observing, he looks to walk aimlessly but, to his
mind, he follows deconstructed beliefs one after another. The translated action
of pacing through the streets is a mere after effect. Synchronicities feel so
much closer, as if his path has a specific direction. He sees a mother and
child, they transport his mind back to his own childhood. He sees a group of
children playing a game, their laughter remind him of the joy of being so
young. He sees backpacking youths, looking for adventure, their bright eyes and
hopeful smiles are like beacons in the crowd. He sees a middle-aged couple,
walking hand in hand, the woman points to an amusing advert in a shop window,
the man laughs. He sees an elderly man sitting on a bench as he lights a
cigarette and looks upon the crowd, he does not smile, instead, he simply
watches on, reflecting on the wisdom gained through years.
Arriving at the beach, seeing the bright blue horizon, the
mirroring ocean, he finally understands his journey. Life. A concept questioned
by all and never fully understood by any. Like a wave, it moves through this
world, through this level, taking many forms, experiencing itself as the many
facets of all that is. Reality. A veil we choose to see, an agreed upon
reflection of the mind, a place where one can lose oneself completely and never
see or want a way out. So beautiful, so tragic, so full of wonder.
"You remembered..." he hears her speak, with a
voice full of emotion as he turns around to see her bright blue eyes and golden
white hair.
Their eyes fixed on one another, he finally utters a firm
and tender: "Yes, I remember now."
"You may not know it yet," she says, her eyes
close to tears, "but I have missed you for so long. I did not understand
at first why you chose to come down in this form. To live so many lifetimes
separated from all you knew. But now I see it, I see that you were the bravest
of us all. I only wish...I wish I could have joined you for this journey."
Taking her in an embrace, flashes of the many aspects of his
existence return, and holding her close, he remembers the entirety of his
journey all at once, in a time-less understanding. Finally, drawing back and
looking at her melancholic smile, he states: "I have lived it for us all,
so I could return with more understanding of this unique aspect. Do not be sad,
Vera, for now we are together, in this moment and for all moments that we may
ever know."
Holding on to her, he feels the waves of reality moving
away. His mind shifts perspective and his body follows. Like a flash of a
million stars all shining down at once, they traverse the levels. Turning, he
sees once again the world he had left behind. The amber-blue sky and daytime
moon. The golden, endless fields, where so many lifetimes before he had run
through as a child.
He manifests an image of his friends he left behind in a far
off time and world so she can see them too. The image is so crisp and clear
even though it is just a snapshot of their existence, a wilful manifestation of
their physical forms he had seen only a short time before.
"I will miss them" he speaks, with a heavy heart.
Caressing his face with her gentle palm, she draws his
vision to her as she says: "You will see them again, after all, all lives
lead higher and further, all into one."
"So they do," he smiles and acknowledges an
eternity of existence before them, "so they do."
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