Epilogue: A New Vision

Is our way a position, a journey or both?

Epilogue: A New Vision

Benjamin Edgar Williams

© 2012

 

In a large shoebox shaped room a chair lies on its side. It is not in the center of the room, but rather lying near one of two doors, which were at opposite ends of the longest wall. The doors are solid metal, with small wire embedded windows.  The windows are transparent and about the size of a sheet of notebook paper and were fashioned above the door’s knobs, at eye level to afford an oblique view of a covered passageway outside.  They open outward however; today they are closed and locked.

 

This empty space, except for the chair, resembles a large rehearsal hall �" perhaps for a band or choir.  It has high acoustic tiled ceilings with symmetrical alternating corrugated and translucent light fixtures.  Half the lights are on, still since it is fully daylight, sunshine pours in through single rows of horizontal rectangular windows that border the tops of both walls that parallel the room’s linear axis.

 

The pour of sunlight melds with the diffused fluorescent lighting making the space bright.  This confluence of rays forces any lingering shadows to retreat and forage for hiding. The light illuminates the earth tones that adorned the walls; the browns, oranges, yellows and reds; tasteful in an artsy, creative, and imaginative way are yet muted.  The life in the colors seems diminished.

 

Meanwhile, the un-righted chair in the space is unavoidable to my gaze and beckons attention.  It was wrong, alone, abandoned and broken.  One of its legs was displaced, separated as if some trauma had caused an avulsion of its appendage.

 

In this moment, he asked, "what do you see?"

 

"I see a broken chair, out of place, upset, missing a leg", I responded.

 

"Why is that what you see?” he returned.

 

"Because it's damaged - out of place", I defended.

 

"Is there anything else in your view?" he chided patiently.

 

"What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. 

 

"What do you see?" he implored, "Open your eyes wide, what is really in your sight?"

 

I felt ashamed, challenged and now I was reluctant to say anything.   I continued to hesitate, feeling that I was being tested and that I had been moved, without my permission, to the role of a student and he now was exalted to become my teacher.  I resented this reality and the thought annoyed me.

 

During this time, he allowed the silence to continue without interruption, yet, I was aware that my various facial demonstrations had been registered and marked.

 

Gently he reframed his question, "How do you perceive the space?"

 

"The space…?" I retorted.

 

"Yes, the space…” he returned unapologetically and without further explanation.

 

"The space..." I pondered aloud "…It is empty except for the broken chair..."

 

"...Empty?" he interrupted with an attitude of disbelief. "How can you say the space is empty?  It is full, filled to capacity.  How can you not perceive it?"

 

Feeling dumbfounded I choked back emotions that reinforced feelings of stupidity.  I started several sentences, "I...cause...see...why..." though, never would any additional words come to help express my thoughts that could explain my place, my position or my argument.  I resigned and shrugged my shoulders in surrender and said, "I don't know".

 

He saw me and had compassion.  After a look of understanding he spoke and used a term that was foreign and yet comforting.

 

He said, "Son, this space is full of life, the energy of souls permeate this place; merging, mingling and passing through in agreement and peace. This is a good place!"

 

I looked at him in disbelief all the while wanting to believe. However, I paused, took in what he was saying, and considered that he just might have some insight that I lacked.

 

"But how?" persisted and swam in my mind because I couldn't see what he described.  Meanwhile, in his voice, there was a confidence and assurance...and he called me son.  How had that happened, "Son?". We were not related.  He was not my father, uncle, cousin or anything to me.  Our occurrence at this place, in my thinking, appeared to be merely a coincidence except, it also seemed that we had been summonsed - called into attendance - to view this space, which in and of itself bore no special significance or importance.  It just was and we were here - called as if we were to witness something. "Why were we here?" was a question that was building within me and "because we were meant to be here?" seemed elusive and not wanting to be found.  I considered posing my questions to "him" nevertheless, quickly allayed that notion.  I dismissed my query because I didn't want to delve down this tunnel of exploration.  I imagined it would become more frustrating, fraught with continuing convolutions.  Right now, at this moment, it didn't seem worth the expense of energy.

 

So I returned to my original quest to obtain or at least gain insight to increase my vision - to see what he was seeing.

 

I asked, "How do you perceive the 'fullness' of this space?"

 

Without hesitation, he said, "Let the 'light' come into your eyes - then see"

 

I nodded my head obligingly then uttered "uh-huh", feeling that his response was just as cryptic and nonsensical as ever.  His response didn't sway me or move me closer to believe still, I did believe that he believed and for that moment, that assurance gave me rest.

 

Time passed in silence and the moment was at ease and without tension. I looked into his eyes and saw sincerity and calm.  His posture was at ease.  Furthermore, the confidence of his “be-ing” conflicted with the nothing-ness that occupied my gaze.  There was nothing there.  I saw nothing. The space was just as empty as I had first observed.

 

Wonder continued to fill me.  I thought we were alone now this feeling that someone else was present further threatened to sever my cohesion with reality.  Now I knew he really was seeing something and he spied the bewilderment in my face and said gently yet, distinctly, "Close your eyes."

 

I close my eyes obediently and then he touched my eyelids slightly and then said calmly to someone else not seen, "open his eyes and let him see".  He continued to speak to the unseen, although, my eyes remained closed.  With my eyes closed, it seemed like hours rather than only a few seconds.  Then I felt him lift his hands from my eyelids and say to me "open your eyes and see".

 

Immediately my eyes were overwhelmed by light, bright and almost blinding nonetheless, the light softened and my eyes adjusted.  Now, I saw life.

 

There was life all over.  The colors on the walls that had afore appeared muted now were alive, moving, flowing, changing and reacting to an energy that I had not previously known.

 

As I continued to take it all in I became aware that this 'energy' was a kind of music, a melody, a rhythm, a chorus and an orchestration all at once. There were no speakers, no instruments nevertheless; there were people or rather souls.  Each soul harmonized and moved together; each different, unique but blended, some syncopated and yet in time, the same meter and the same key. The tempos rose and deceased and the moods and themes modulated yet, it was continuously fluid.

 

While I listened, I never heard any sad or sorrowful tunes, no dirges although, occasionally there were sounds of remembrance and nostalgia - and I guessed that in those notes there was a 'missing' but not sadness.  I would use the word 'somber' to describe those tones on the other hand; they were only brief movements that immediately lead to crescendos of joy and exuberance.

 

I became aware of something else with my new sight - texture.  There was something palatable that I could sense, feel, experience and touch.  It was like the comfort and softness of a warm blanket where no fear could penetrate. It was peace - peace that could be felt and swaddled.

 

As I turned my gaze back to him I saw that he was smiling and now his countenance had changed.  He was luminous and music now ebbed from his being.

 

He took my hand and we moved down to the floor and I felt the souls of past lives brush against us, press us, and even move through us.  The first time a soul moved through me it was disconcerting though, not alarming.  Then, I became aware that as they passed through me a part of their being was left inside me - deposited.  The more it happened the more I was filled and as I filled I started to change. Lights of different colors began flowing from me and I became translucent and now I heard my own instrumentation chime and resonate in harmony with those around us.

 

In the next moment, I realized that as my music was added to the chorus and the symphony, all the souls began to rise and the floor was no longer our boundary or limitation.

 

Souls took flight, flying through and around each other, although, also disappearing and reappearing through the vibrant colors on the walls. It seemed there had become a concert, cooperation between the animate and the insentient, which defied all boundaries of logic and physics.

 

As time moved, the souls exited the space one by one, leaving him and I, as we had begun, however, we were not the same.  I was changed and I 'saw' differently.  Now as I inventoried the space, now devoid of the souls, I spied the chair upright and whole.  It was now in the room's center.  The chair had transformed; it was fabulously and meticulously carved and adorned.  It was ornately embroidered, padded with an embossed rich camel colored leather and gilded accoutrements.  The chair’s carved arms and legs were brazened and massive. The chair was regal and right - it was made whole and had become a throne of distinction.

 

Now the lighting of the room changed again and became, what I remembered, as natural.  Sunlight again poured through the ceiling's high windows and the fluorescent lighting mixed adequately.  However, there was a difference from before I had vision.  The colors on the walls were still vibrant and the throne now was bathed in light.  This chair now sat as important and positioned in a manner that made it seem greater and elevated.  A platform had been built and it rested elevated from the floor.  I moved in the space to change my perspective, to get a better look at the chair now mended and made whole.  As I moved closer I realized that the chair indeed was larger as if it had grown - its dimensions and dynamics were transformed.  I could see that the platform had been constructed in detail.  It was beautiful and festooned to suit the throne that now sat atop it.  It was a noble place matched with a truly magnificent throne.

 

He said, "Why do you think the chair is a throne?"

 

I was startled, I had forgotten or lost track of the fact that he was still with me.

 

"How...?" I began and then silenced my thought to ask how he had known what I was thinking.  I hadn't said it aloud, had I?  I didn't recall, but, how did he know?  In the moment I pushed the concern of his knowing aside.

 

"It looks like a throne, majestic, noble, detailed and unique and still..." I trailed off suddenly feeling an advance of sadness.

 

"Continue,” he said.

 

"I can't...” now feeling wells of tears beginning to fill and feared they would crest momentarily.

 

"What's making you sad?" he asked penetratingly.  I sensed he was not going to allow me to evade or escape this move.  Apparently, in his continuing of our chest-like exchange, his queen stood before my king and I felt I would fall unless...

 

"I'm sad because the chair was once broken and cast aside, now restored, even better than before, exalted and with distinction...yet is empty...incomplete, unable to fulfill its purpose.  A chair, a throne in and of itself can be an object of admiration - it’s an artistic piece of furniture; ornate, decorated, embellished but inanimate and when empty - dysfunctional.

 

Its function is its true beauty and worth.  It is destined to bear up, to support that person that bears the great weight of leadership.  Thus, the chair, the throne, must be strong.

 

As my thoughts continued to bounce against one another, to fuse and then separate, he asked that infernal question again, "What do you see?"

 

Unbelievably, in light of all that I had viewed, he was asking me again. I felt a surge of irritation swell in my core and I wanted to let it come forth, nonetheless, I subdued my passions by interjecting a thought of wonder and curiosity.  I remembered how my eyes had been unveiled before and the marvels I witnessed, so I resigned myself to wait to see what would be revealed now. So with deliberation, I considered his question again, widened my eyes and cleared my mind wanting nothing to block my perception.

 

Slowing I answered, "I see a throne vacant of its monarch."

 

"You see very well.  I am proud of you.  You seemed to have gained some insight" he chuckled.

 

I was happy and pleased that I had answered correctly but more important than my verbal affirmation was my cognitive consideration.  I was correct because I 'knew' the answer.  I perceived it with all of my being and my soul reverberated in agreement.

 

"Why is the throne vacant?" he enjoined my thoughts and making my confidence quake once more.

 

In defense, I uttered, "I don't know...who is he or she? Where are they? Why aren't they here? Was it one of departed souls?"

 

I was puzzled and my face broadcasted my dismay.  I wanted to form a question although; I could not find the words. A counter rapidly engaged every thought that arrived in my mind and the 'counter thoughts' consistently won.... so nothing came out of my mouth.  The look on my face froze with my mouth agape.

 

He said, "It's your throne, made for you...it's your place" and with that he removed himself as the other souls returned and gathered as if forming a royal court.

 

"I don't understand,” I said nevertheless, there was no reply. He didn't answer.  He wasn't there.  He had been my support, encourager and guide still, now at this critical moment I couldn't find him.

 

Then a curious thing happened.  The music started again and the souls lit up and the chorus began, however, this time it included words.  They were indistinct at first on the other hand, as they continued I started to catch the repeating theme. Continuing it became clear it was a question in repetition.  Over and over they were singing with celestial accompaniment the question.

 

"What do you see?  What do you see? What do you see, son?  What do you see?"

 

When I heard the chorus interject 'son' I looked hard and there he was standing in front of the throne.  He was grander than the other souls.  With one hand he reached towards me and with the other he directed to a path to the throne.

 

I came down to him and took his hand.  Still perplexed, I whispered, "What does this mean?"

 

He released my hand, took the first step of the platform and announce in a strong clear voice that caused the music to cease.

 

"Everyone is given a throne and every one is given a kingdom. Choose wisely my son how you will rule. Power has been given to you to subdue and take dominion of your kingdom.  Only you can decide to ascend these steps to assume your position, your post, and your assignment.  This is the question to you my son.  How will you answer?"