Encounter with Nothing - Part 4
photo credit: stuck in customs
Excerpt from the forthcoming book ‘Medicine Child’ by Ray Stewart.
Click here to read part three.
I reached the room and greeted my wife Maerin and my friend Mountain. They had been on a walk, they said, and found an interesting spot by a creek. I told them things had gone well and it was nice to get to talk to Lujan.
Then we decided to go up to the market for some groceries and supplies. We walked a short distance down a stone path to another series of stairs. There were many and the surrounding area had tall trees grown thick with vines hanging down like long locks of hair. It was very dim and there was moss and small plants growing anywhere possible, all taking their chances between every stone crack and over every statue. I liked to stop and examine the micro landscapes. The scale was shifting to view up close.
We walked on and the steps led to a street. It felt strange stepping out like that into a town. We hiked up hill navigating the inconsistent sidewalks. Stone slabs were irregular varying in quality as some had aged and broken partially; some gone completely leaving gaping holes over sub surface drainage channels.
We reached the market and bought our supplies and as soon as we started for the exit, it began to rain heavily. We stopped under the eave and waited for a moment to assess the situation. A man took advantage of this and offered us a taxi, which would have only taken us back to the stairs so we declined. He gestured that the rain was relentless and as if we had no choice staring fixedly at us. We waited and hoped it would cease but it continued.
The rain began to blow and poured violently rushing through the parking lot. Maerin had an umbrella and we decided to walk back through the storm. It wasn’t that far, we agreed, and we enjoyed the warm rain, as it was cold and arid back where we were from.
The taxi driver tried one more time and laughed as we entered the rain. People were gathered waiting it out as if they were afraid of getting wet. By the time we reached the street, we realized why everyone had waited. The water was rushing so fast and with such volume that it pushed against our feet and rose above our ankles.
Walking was difficult in this manner and we were getting drenched everywhere except for a small area under Maerin’s umbrella. It was quite amusing seeing her walk with a small umbrella amidst the torrential storm. She had a dry head and shoulders and nothing else.
We pushed on sliding down the street and stopped on the stairs as the trees deflected some of the rain. We climbed up and reached the hotel and the employees were all gathered and laughing. We got inside and made some food after changing.
It was around dusk when we finished and had some tea. Maerin went to sleep and we decided to go for a walk. The island really came alive at night and had a sort of glowing feeling to it. The darkness felt like it had so much mystery and depth; it was breathing and warm.
We walked down to the stairs again and listened to distant metallic chiming sounds that made strange songs and turned around curious as to where the road led in the other direction. The sounds of frogs filled the air from the surrounding rice fields. Small geckos were like sentries stationed on the edges of illuminated areas; still in the shadows cast by light bulbs, waiting for insects to come near and stealthily grasping them as quickly as they would land on the walls. Toads hopped across the path also hunting near the lights.
I had always read about this studying lizards and frogs as a child and enjoyed observing it firsthand. The geckos made a loud barking sound resembling a chuck earning them the name chuck chuck. Lujan had said on another occasion that they were indicators of truths; whenever he would say something auspicious they would concur with a bark he said.
All the calls mixed and saturated the darkness. The night volume seemed to have turned up yet another notch as we ventured further down the path. We reached an opening on the side of the trail and Mountain told me that was where he and Maerin had gone that led to the river. We had a small key chain light, which we used to see going down the twisting stone steps. The thought of snakes crossed our minds, but we were curious and felt safe.
We made it to the bottom and there was a level stone area with a small site for offerings with an ornamental umbrella and statues. We went and sat on some boulders next to the moving water. The sound of the water merged with the others, ebbing and flowing in harmony. We sat quietly for a while in the dark and felt the fullness of the place, neither of us spoke and I didn’t have any thoughts.
Eventually our eyes became accustomed to the moonlight and the steam rising from the dark water contrasted with the dark silhouettes of the tall twisty trees and vines above against the moon. This moonlit steam looked like thick white smoke rising and the black masses of branches with hanging vines alive and aware. They reached up from the earth’s darkness seemingly extending this nothingness in all directions.
I felt I had no reference point and was observing everything including myself from no fixed location, as if I had become everything entirely around me floating. The steam moved high above becoming low clouds drifting through the magical forest. I felt my awareness descend like soft gravity back to where we sat on the boulders.
Mountain and I had been friends for a long time. We had been in a sweat lodge, camped high in the mountains and worked and lived together in our youth. It was exciting to be there seeing what might happen next.
I told him that the small river was like our paths which had flowed through time and brought us there, feeling deposited into this heart of experience, into this current of eternity which it felt like we were caught by. We discussed how everything had led up to sitting there in the dark under the trees. We had the feeling of arriving somewhere, which was final yet fleeting and being constantly renewed. I felt it was what Lujan meant by the death and rebirth of each moment escaping us.
Listening to the river without seeing it gave us the feeling of traveling without movement and we sat absorbing it all for another long span of silence. We were there for over an hour and then I felt alerted. I got the sudden urge to leave as I felt there was something there in the darkness: something human watching us or in our vicinity, aware of our presence as well.
We looked around and didn’t see anything, just faint white lines around the water and shimmering from other wet surfaces reflecting moonlight. We felt it best to return to the hotel, as we didn’t want to surprise anyone who would be coming down to seek privacy there.
We talked about control and how it was interesting that we were never really in control. I said that all we could do was account for ourselves and surrender to the designs of the universe. He asked me to repeat this and I did and as I said we are not in control, the universe is, I fell to my left off of a path, next to a tree. The roots of it had heaved the stone upward and I had tripped over the rise and fell into the irrigation ditch landing in the mud.
We both laughed hard at the timing of the joke. It was as if the tree had put its roots out just for that insight of non-control. I said see, even though I know I’m not in control and surrender, that itself is still not control. I kicked the mud from my foot and soaked it in a nearby stream. We walked back slowly ascending to the room and sat out on the balcony watching the green fireflies float and flicker above the rice fields. Mountain smoked while we sat and talked some more then we retired to sleep.
