Bear With Me by Wendy D. Bear - HTML preview

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Chapter 17 - Outing

He got up, setting the book on the end table, feeling a bit confused, but not bothered by the lack of understanding. “Maybe it is okay not to understand everything all at once.”

Closing his door after he stepped into the hall, he directed his casual stride toward the door that led to the garden. There seemed to be more people outside than usual, not that it was a large crowd. It was a group, nevertheless. “Might as well see what is in store, next.”

Most of the light clouds, which usually sit on the shore during the morning hours, had burned off already. Only a few remained, giving stark contrast to the sky’s blue radiance. The sun was warm, but as before, not unbearably hot. “Only someone without melanin in one’s skin would get a sunburn today,” he thought to himself.

The group he migrated toward had set out a number of ornate quilts and blankets on the grassy area near the roses and daisies. They had formed a circle with the quilts, and sat down facing the center, carrying on soft conversation. A few other people were coming out of the neighboring buildings, also carrying blankets. One carried a small, blue plastic tarp.

His ‘mentor’ approached him, still smiling. The young man thought to himself, “I wonder if his face ever hurts from smiling so much?” The older gentleman reached out his hand toward the young man, taking his hand and shaking it gently. His left hand patted the young man’s shoulder, and then, he spoke.

 “I see you got the message. I am happy to see you agreed to join us again.”

“Excuse me? What message?” Once again, the young man’s brain went slightly askew in confusion, but he also noticed that he was not in complete panic mode. Instead, it was more curiosity about this seemingly ‘cryptic’ message.

“You came out and are joining us. You got the message. Not to worry. You are listening, and maybe you do not know you are hearing perfectly, yet.” The ‘mentor’ smiled, and guided the young man toward the grassy area with the growing group.

 “Got it!” he said with a smile and a wink.

It was not time for lunch, but it looked a bit as if the plan was for a picnic. This was something he had always wished for as a child. The young man had always wished his parents could have taken him to a park, into the woods, or just somewhere around nature, just to sit down, watch the clouds and enjoy the time in nature. Due to the many stresses and ‘inopportune’ states in his childhood family life, that was never to be. This, however, seemed to be the fruition of a long lost dream. The mentor continued to guide him gently toward the group.

Many people, maybe the entire population of this community, were here now. Some were laying on their backs on the quilts, looking up at the sky, gazing at the cirrus and the few remaining puffs of cumulus clouds, some making comments about the ‘perfection of clouds’, no matter how different they all were. Others were holding hands and chatting about this and that, most being spoken so quietly, it was difficult to catch much of it.

On one part of the circle of quilting there were two empty blankets — one a beautiful blend of blues, the other a mixture of rainbow colors — mostly in the pastel and darker ranges. The young man seemed to be guided toward the blue ground-covering quilt. He removed his shoes and sat down, joining the rest of his ‘new family’. The mentor sat down on the other quilt, turning toward a middle-aged woman with piercing blue eyes and sandy blonde hair with light streaks of grey — no, silver hair. She had a smile, which seemed to almost outshine everyone else, yet she seemed not to be of any ‘rank’ or higher status. She was just one of this ever-growing community. He thought he might be able to learn much from this wise-looking woman. Maybe, in a few days, the opportunity will arise.

Suddenly, almost as if it were on cue, a thin man with dark complexion, maybe in his late 30’s and who likes being in the fresh air, stood up and looked around at all who were in attendance.

 “It is a nice day for communication. Who has a lesson?”

 “A lesson? Again?” the young man whispered to himself. No. It does not feel the same as his “inquisition” from a previous evening.

The speaker sat down and it was silent, except for the sound of the distant surf, the light breeze through the neighboring trees and shrubbery and the songs of a few birds.

 A young girl, probably no more than 18 years old, though seated, spoke up. “What about the magic of three? I like that lesson. It always changes each time we hear it.”

The young man’s attention was not only piqued, but his imagination started grasping at what the possibilities might be — this ‘lesson of the magic of three’. He figured it would be best just to listen and be a student — nothing like the time he had experienced being the ‘teacher’.

 “Seasons,” someone on the other side of the circle called out.

 “There are four seasons, if you are talking about the seasons of the year,” the young man blurted out, suddenly feeling foolish.

Another voice out of the group said, “Yes, that IS one way of looking at it, AND it could also be seen as ‘Winter, Summer and Transition’ between the two extremes. That could be seen as either two or three, then.”

 This made sense. The young man nodded.

 Then, on an inspiration, he threw out the words, “Physical, Emotional and Mental”.

 “Hmm. Good,” called out another voice.

 “Acid, base, neutral.”

“Day, night, transition,” said yet another voice. “Odd,” he thought to himself. “What a strange way to have a conversation — talking about numbers.”

The voice — that quiet yet determined voice that has been visiting his “imagination,” ever since he had arrived, said to him, “Is not conversation, no matter what the subject, a process of relating ideas? Sometimes, the greatest wisdom can come out of talking about a cloud or a sound in the trees. Listen and learn.”

 Someone else chimed in with, “A triangle — the most stable form. The three sides are very easy to maintain its state of balance.”

 “Yes,” said another, “like the formula to create fire — oxygen, fuel, and heat.”

 “Good,” complimented another.

“Earth, Wind and Fire,” blurted out the young man. Silence filled the conversation in the group. Everyone turned toward him, waiting for an explanation. “You know,” he stuttered a bit, “the R & B group from the days of disco?”

Joyful laughter filled the silence. It was not the laughter that the young man had heard when he was a child — that laughter of condemnation or condescension, but of support and the recognition of humor, much like the hearing of a song in the squeak of a door hinge. Even the young man began to chuckle to himself, realizing that his comment was completely unrelated to what was being discussed, but feeling full of joy that his unique, as well as unintended sense of humor had found a place in the group. Another older gentleman, looking as if he were in his early seventies, yet, with an ‘aura’ of being no more than thirtysomething, spoke next. “In Japanese culture, the concept of three is very important.” His voice sounded of experience — of many years and many adventures. “In Ikebana, a form of flower arranging, there are three levels of the flowers or leafy parts, depicting in some forms, that of heaven, man and earth.”

“In Hinduism found in Bali,” he continued, “the concept of three is also just as vital, standing for the concepts of ‘heaven, earth and hell’, but not in a sense of avoiding one or another, but of balance. Without that balance of the three, all three would fall into chaos. Therefore, the sense of three in harmony is very important in that culture as well.”

Voices of quiet agreement, soft comments, and nodding heads were very obvious as he spoke those words. Even the young man was intrigued, as he was always told how, in western thinking, that one should strive only for heaven, put up with the earth — that realm under control of a character called Satan, and to avoid at all costs, the hell concept. The fear of spending an eternity in this “hell realm” of burning souls, gnashing of teeth and moaning (which sounded much like the sounds he heard from a previous relationship he had, when she slept), seemed to be not only impossible to fathom as a literal place, but also ridiculous.

The idea that one would suffer for all eternity for not jumping for joy, proclaiming one’s undying (no pun intended) love for this loving God who would be happy to toss you into the incinerator, seemed not only foreign, but just plain stupid. This, however, was what he was taught for his entire youth, both as a literal child and much of his spiritual growing period as a young adult. To imagine that the hell realm is a part of the triangle of the balance of the universe was something new.

 “Birth, life and death,” claimed another.

“What about reincarnation, though?” asked the young man. “Supposedly, one comes back over and over again. One time, as a person, the next as a cow or an ant. Who knows!”

A voice from the other side of the circle replied, “Yes, who knows. Let’s make an agreement. If anyone finds out, please come back and tell the rest of us!” A light chuckle ran through the crowd. “Seriously, many cultures which claim reincarnation as a way of life may not refer to it as that of a literal form.”

 “Oh?” asked the young man.

“Yes,” continued the voice. “Is it not true that, with every breath one takes, millions of cells in the body die and are expelled in that breath, and simultaneously, millions of more cells are born, taking the place of the ‘dearly departed’? Even according to modern medicine, and it varies from theory to another, the human body, at the most is from 18 months to 7 years old maximum. Any cells basically do not live longer than that. We are all a series of replacement parts.”

Another voice spoke out. “Another concept of reincarnation is that it relates, not in the physical form, but in the form of realization. When one wakens every day, are we not all ‘reborn’ of the experiences of the days gone by? Therefore, even our personalities, no matter how slight, change from moment to moment, day to day.”

 “Interesting comment, thank you,” replied the young man.

 A quiet sense of agreement, many nods and quiet sounds of affirmation ran through the group.

In another place in the crowd, someone mentioned the Christian concept of the Trinity, and another about a similar concept in Hinduism.

“Since we are on the subject of ‘religious’ belief, here,” the young man interjected, “what about the Christian concept of ‘sin?' I know it is not necessarily relating to the lesson of three, but something is nagging away at me about it.”

 “Good point, sir,” said another in the crowd.

“The word ‘sin’ comes from the Middle English language. It is an archery term. When an archer let loose an arrow from his bow and the target, or point, was missed, the scorekeeper would call out ‘sin,' which meant that the contestant had missed the “point”. When one, in life, goes in a direction and misses the ‘point’ of life, for example, stealing, hurting another, murdering, one is missing the ‘point’ of what life is about. And, before you ask, if I may add, the point of life is different for everyone, yet mostly seems to fit pretty much the same definition. To learn, to love, to assist, to enjoy this thing called life seems to be a common agreement. When one goes against these concepts, one is ‘missing the point’ or creating a ‘sin’.”

 “Hmmm. It makes sense,” he thought to himself. “Thank you for your explanation,” he said with great enthusiasm. “Wow,” he whispered to himself, looking at the clouds.

Another woman spoke. “The human body fits into the ‘rules of three’ category quite well. We, as humans, can only go for three minutes, on average, without oxygen, three days without water, three weeks without food.” This seemed trivial, yet how trivial is oxygen!

The young man was getting quite caught up with this. “Who woulda’ thunk!” he commented to himself. Learning there is so much about the number three. “I wonder what next week’s lesson is. One?” He smiled inwardly.

 He then blurted out, “The five senses,” thinking he had added some wisdom as well.

 Someone he could not see sat up, tilted his head a bit to the left, and said, “Is that all you have? Just five senses?”

 “Sure . . . of course. If you want to add ESP to the list, okay, six.”

 The gentleman said, “What about your sense of self? Do you not sense yourself?”

 Whoops. Another faux pas. He had not thought of that concept.

Another spoke. “Sense of time. Many can sense the passing of time. It is also not sensed the same as everyone else. When you are dreading what you are doing, time moves so darn slowly! Yet, when you are excited about what you are doing, spending time with a loved one, or any other enjoyable happening, hours can seem like minutes.”

 “How many senses are you saying we have, then?”

 “Upward between 22 and 28, maybe more.”

 The young lady to the young man’s right spoke next. “Three meals a day!”

 Everyone laughed freely and quite openly, some falling onto their backs from the sitting position.

“We knew you made a good cook for some reason!” someone responded from across the circle. Again, more laughter filled the group, compounding the joy in the group.

After this light banter and other comments about the various forms of “three” continued for another hour or so, the kindly older gentleman, who had been the young man’s ‘mentor’ for his time at this place of magic learning, stood and said,

 “To arrive, to learn, and to move on to the new adventure.”

The group became silent, with a feeling of warmth, understanding, and knowing, it was time to create a new chapter in the drama called life for everyone here, today.

The young man seemed to understand as well. He had listened to the voice on and off, but this time, he did not need the voice to tell him what the message was. It was obvious. It was time for him to go. The group stood up in unison. Silent hugs were exchanged, and everyone went their own ways. Even the young man knew it was time for him to go back to his room…for the last time.