March Forth (The Woodford Chronicles Book 1) (13 page)

Deanna

As Deanna walked toward the robed man, he kept his arm extended toward her.  She found her own arm extending, almost involuntarily, and when she was close enough to him, she took hold of his hand.

The second she did so, she felt a shift.  She was warmer, for one thing.  Everything around her looked the same, but something
felt
different.

She looked up at his face, and he smiled.  “My queen,” he murmured.

“Who are you?”

His grin broadened.  “No one, really.”

“Why do you refer to me as ‘my queen’?”

“Are you not royalty?”

She chuckled.  “Um, no.  Can’t say I am.”

“Why can’t you say it?”

“No, I meant… I’m not royalty.”

“Oh, I see.” His eyes twinkled with amusement, as if he were placating a child.

Cars rushed past them, and the occasional pedestrian scurried by, bundled against the cold.  No one seemed to notice them.  She felt as if they were in their own little bubble of warmth and privacy, not out of the world but not affected by it, either.  She could still hear the sounds around them – at that very moment, Tom Petty’s “You Don’t Know How it Feels” was beginning to play on Main Street’s speakers, and a teenager scurrying past them was screaming for his friends to wait up – but it all seemed somehow far away. 

“Are you one of them?  Are you part of the organization?” she asked.

Again, he looked amused, and shook his head.  “I am part of the ultimate organization, and no organization at all.  I am order in chaos, and chaos in structure.  But mostly, I am connection.”

“To what?”

“What do you believe?”

She stared up at him quizzically, feeling as if she were talking to the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, or possibly the Mad Hatter.  “I don’t know,” she finally answered.

“Perhaps it is time to give it some thought,” he answered gently.

Deanna did not know what to make of this strange man, yet his presence was strangely, inexplicably comforting.  Reassuring.  She felt like everything was going to be alright – better than alright – while she held his hand.  She stared up at him with an overwhelming blend of wonder, awe, and confusion.  She had a million questions, but didn’t know which to ask.

He must have sensed her mental turmoil, because he squeezed her hand gently and said, “Let’s take a walk,” then gently led her down Main Street.

As they walked, he seemed to study each person they passed, unnoticed.  He paused at store windows and peered inside with great interest.  No one showed any reaction to his scrutiny; Deanna wondered if they were invisible to everyone else, like Steven had been.  It was a strange feeling.

After they had walked a block or two, the robed man began to speak.

“You have been taught a bit about your galaxy, I assume.  The way all of the planets orbit the sun.  Different planets, different orbits, same sun.”

Deanna nodded.

“People are much the same.  Each is their own world, but they all orbit the same sun.”

She thought for a moment.  “Who or what is that sun?”

“That goes back to what you believe.  How you perceive it, in your own world, dictates what it is in your world.”

“Are you talking about God?”

He bowed his head slightly to the side.  “Broadly speaking, yes. But also, no.”

“Are you trying to tell me I am walking down Main Street with some kind of personification of a connection to God?”

“Broadly speaking, yes.  But also, no,” he repeated, laughing.  “It’s not that straightforward, my lady.  I have met people while they were in prayer, or meditation.  I have also met people while they were consumed with inspiration, or passion, or motivation.  I meet people in all sorts of circumstances, when they awaken to the divine spark inside every moment and molecule of their existence.  What I explain as being the sun to your worlds could be called God, or Love, or the Divine… None of those would be entirely right or wrong.  It is difficult to put labels on such things.”

“But…I don’t really think connection to such things comes in person form,” she said.

“Then I’m someone else,” he said, quite agreeably.

“I mean…. You can’t be a connection to the Divine and a person.  Can you?”

“Do you think I am?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, sighing.  “I’m not really understanding any of this.”

“It’s quite simple, my lady.  It’s as simple as you allow it to be.”

She sighed again.  “I’ve finally lost my mind completely, haven’t I?”

“If that is what you choose to accept, my lady, that can be the answer.”

She shook her head.

“If that is not what you choose to accept, then, it is time for you to release that notion and accept something else.”

“I want to…” Deanna trailed off for a moment.  “I just don’t know how, I guess.”

“Just allow it to be, my lady.”

“I wish it was that simple…”

“It IS.  Just allow it to be.  Allow yourself to be queen of your world.  Allow yourself to know the answers you seek.  Allow reality to be what it is.  Allow yourself to be responsible for your world and your experience.  Allow, lady, just allow and it shall be.”

They strolled down Main Street aimlessly, in silence.

Then the robed man said thoughtfully, “My lady, you are responsible for every single thing that you experience.  I realize that thought frightens many people, but it will help you to accept that.”

“You mean I’m responsible for myself being kidnapped by a secret government organization that wants to brainwash me or something?  Because I think that was an accident.” Her response was defensive, and dripping with a bit more sarcasm than she had meant it to.

“There are no accidents,” he replied warmly, unaffected by her tone.  “You had a need to confront some personal demons before you could become queen of your world.  Those demons were given to you.”

She considered his words. 

“Are you saying…. Wait, what are you saying?  Did I somehow create those men and their organization?”

He chuckled.  “No, my lady, you did not create them.  They exist, independently of you.  But when worlds collide, they fit into each other as they can.  Perhaps your world needed the threat of being eradicated in order for you to embrace your power.  Did you not tell me, just a few hours ago, that you are capable of handling anything?  That you are safe and free?  You so rarely say such things.”

She looked up at him, shocked.  “That’s what I was saying last night.  My affirmations.  When I was meditating.  But I was alone.”

“You’re never alone, my lady, when you seek me.”

She was beginning to believe the truth of what he said, of who he was.  She wanted to ask him everything, every question she had ever had about life.  “But why… how… if we are all in charge of our own worlds, why would anyone choose to be… to be bad?  Did I somehow make the General be a bad guy?”

“Yes and no, my Queen,” he responded, laughing again.  “Those men are not necessarily ‘bad guys,’ as you put it.  No one sets out to be a ‘bad guy.’  But different worlds have different effects on each other’s orbits.  Sometimes worlds collide, and fit into each other in any way they can.  Sometimes people never truly take control of their worlds, and they become moons, trailing in the orbit of other worlds without responsibility.  The answers may be as simple as you allow, but they are also not black and white issues.”

She gazed at him for a few beats before saying, “I don’t think I have a clue what all that meant, but I hope I’ll figure it out.”

He laughed uproariously, and she giggled in response.

“In time, you will understand all,” he assured her.

She thought of another question.  “What about the Rasta… David Carver?  What about him?  How does he fit in to all this?”

The robed man closed his eyes for a second, and a flicker of sadness passed over his face.  “Such a gifted individual, so blessed.  More than many.  It hurt so very deeply to watch as he lost sight of his connection.  Once he did, he cut himself off from everything and everyone, and he became isolated, alone.  Just his ego and his work.  And his work, shall we say, had repercussions for a man with no connections in his world.”

“He lost sight of his… connection,” Deanna repeated slowly.

              He boomed laughter in response.  “I never lost sight of him, though!”

              Something about the robed man’s explanation of Carver made Deanna think of her dream, and the tiny sun over the statue that had become her.  Was it a warning of some kind?

              “But… you’re saying I am queen of my world, or I should be.  Wouldn’t that make me no different than him?  Ego-driven?”

              He smiled and shook his head.  “No, my Lady, there is a balance.  You must understand you are responsible for all that you experience, but there is another force working with you.  Let’s call it the great mystery.  It responds to you, and your connection to it makes you stronger.” He paused and considered his next words.  “One might say that you have been the polar opposite of your Rasta Man for most of your life.  Always seeking connection, never acknowledging that you have the power to rule your world.  Perhaps that opposite polarity created a vacuum that drew him to you.  Perhaps your destinies are intertwined, and he was meant to find his way to your world so that you can save each other.  Perhaps your two worlds collided to form a new world, a better world.”  He paused, and grinned.  “Or, perhaps you are just insane, and he is just a crazy, homeless man, and this is all in your head.”

              She searched his face for answers, but saw only the benevolent amusement that seemed to radiate from him at all times.  “Do you know?” she asked him.  “Do you know which it is?  Do you know what’s real and what isn’t?”

              “YES,” he answered emphatically.  “I know that it all depends.”

              “On what?”

              “On what YOU know, my Queen,” he said, resting a hand on top of her head. 

              “I’m not sure if you’re the most ambiguous person I’ve ever met, or if everything is just simpler than it seems.  Or both.”

              Again, the wide, infectious grin flashed.  “Definitely both, my Queen.  Whenever there are two possibilities, the answer is always ‘both.’”

              Deanna found herself chuckling and shaking her head, though she could not really explain her amusement.  She just felt so… happy, walking down the street with him.

              “Do you have a name?” she asked.  “I feel like I should be able to call you something.”

              “You just did,” he said.  “You described me as ‘You,’ and we both knew you meant me.  You may continue to call me ‘You.’ It will suffice.”

              She giggled.  “That’s not really a name.”

              “I’m not really a person, so it fits for now,” he answered lightly.  “Perhaps, in time, we will figure out another name for me.”

              She looked at him, then, with a long, considering, appraising look.  “You’re not, are you?  You’re not a person.  You’re really some kind of divine connection. This is real.  This isn’t just me being crazy.”

              As she stared at him, she noticed his robes looked less like the bedsheets she had originally taken them to be, and more like fine silk.  The staff she had thought was a fallen tree branch was actually carved with intricate symbols and seemed to pulse with energy.  He looked more like a mystical being than like the homeless man she had originally taken him to be.

              The robed man… You… glanced down at himself and grinned.  His eyes closed for a moment in apparent ecstasy over the transformation of his clothing.  “Ahhh,” he murmured.  “The lady begins to understand.”

              She returned his grin.  She still really didn’t understand everything You said, but she was beginning to accept that he was real, and that she was not insane. If that was the case, she might also have to accept that he was right about her being responsible for her own experience, and queen of her world.

It was a good feeling, that acceptance.

David

              David rode his motorcycle down the long stretch of road, enjoying the feeling of the ocean breeze on his skin.  He felt more alive, more aware then he had in a long, long time.

              After a while, though, he became aware of a feeling that something was missing.  He could not put his finger on it, but something just didn’t feel right.  This glorious ride felt… incomplete.  Almost… false.

              He pulled over, onto the beach, and sat on his idling motorcycle, staring at the waves.  Something stirred in his memory, and he tried to identify it.  He stared vacantly at the waves crashing to the shore, willing the memories to identify themselves.

              After a time, he lifted his gaze to the horizon.  He watched that quiet place where the ocean met the sky for a long while, not thinking, just observing.

              Somewhere in the tangled web that was left of his mind, something clicked, and he said aloud, “Damn.”

              He suddenly realized that this place, this motorcycle, as lovely as they were, were not his.  They were not, in the truest sense of the word, real.

              He got off his motorcycle and walked toward the ocean, wondering how to get to another place, a more real place.  He had found himself in new places all the time, without control, for a very long time.  This time was different, though.  This time, he wanted to go to a specific place; he wanted to go to HIS place, wherever that may be.  He wanted to intentionally walk between worlds, rather than being thrown around like a leaf on the wind.  He needed to find some connection between this place and his own place, his own home, even though he could not remember where that home was or what it was like.

              As he walked toward the ocean, he noticed a long sandbar that extended, just under the water, for as far as he could see.  It seemed to present itself as the best option for his next path, so he took off his worn, tattered shoes, and walked out onto the sandbar.

              After he took a few steps, he suddenly flashed to a scene in which he was looking up at a tall man who looked lovingly at him and said, “You are always safe, my Queen…. As long as you choose to be.”

              Just as suddenly as it came, the image disappeared.  David fell down on the sandbar, disoriented.  Then, he gazed out at the horizon, picked himself up, and marched onward.

              He didn’t know what he had just seen or who the man had been, but he knew he had to find him.  He knew the man hadn’t been behind him, on the road, so he must be somewhere ahead.  Grasping that thought, the most solid certainty he had felt in many, many years, David marched forward with a sense of determination he had not thought it was possible to feel at this stage in his life.