EA#18:
Read From the Beginning or the start of Trial Two or Three
The Mountain in the Clouds, Part Twenty-One
“
There I was. Before the gates of Watermire.
What struck me was the unique design of the entrance to this great capital city.
There before me was a giant ship, not unlike you would see on the ocean. Only it was moored almost entirely inland. There was a small pool of water that it floated in, but this water was not river nor bay nor sea.
It swayed slightly in this water, under the stars in the crisp night air.
And atop on the deck I could see two men, guards I presumed. They hailed me.
“Ahoy, who goes there as this hour?” called one.
“I am Troy Destin from the city of Ham,” I answered.
“What business do you have in Watermire City?” the guard continued.
“I am traveling,” I tried. “I need a place to eat and to rest.”
“Traveling in the middle of the night? Not very smart, are you?” chided the guard. “You know how dangerous the roads can be?”
“Uh, yea, I wasn’t born yesterday,” I grumbled. I could tell by the sour look on his face that he didn’t appreciate my comment. “Look, I know it must be unusual, but it has been an unusual night for me. I really just need a safe place to sleep tonight.”
The two men, still grimacing, paused and consulted each other briefly in hushed tones. Then the second one said, “Alright, come in. We will check any weapons and swear you in.”
“Swear me in?” I asked.
“Come on now, we don’t have all night,” the guard hurried me.
A gangway was extended then in quick order by several men and a winch. I was astonished to see my passage opened into the side of the ship and wondered if all who entered the city had to do the same.
I came into a cabin that was dimly lit with candles. A large man was sitting behind a desk looking very official but also very tired. He puffed on a cigar and cocked his head to one side. Two guards immediately came to me and patted me down, and when they found nothing of interest in my clothes or pockets, they nodded to the man and walked off.
The official puffed his cigar and filled the cabin with a pungent odor. He gestured with his free hand for me to sit in the empty chair across from him.
I sat and he passed me a form and a quill. I tried desperately to read it in the candlelight, but fumbled with the page.
The man grew weary of me and summarized it for me: “It’s just a formality, Troy from Ham. So we can keep tabs on who comes and goes in the city. No unwanted funny business or criminals or foreign spies or the like. Please sign it for our records and get the hell out of here.”
Pleasant guy, I thought. I scribbled my name on the page but had to ask, “Do you always take this kind of precaution when people enter the city?”
“The city?” the man puffed out one gutty sound of laughter. “This is the barracks gate, and yes, we do take precaution, especially at this time of night. If you’d rather enter the common gate, you’d have to head further north.”
“So, why are you letting me enter the barracks?” I inquired.
“It seems my ensign upstairs is from Ham himself and felt a certain kinship to you,” replied the man with another puff of smoke. “Begged us to let you in. So you’re welcome.” He winked. “But don’t get me wrong, you will not be staying in the barracks. You will be shown to the South End, a most reputable part of the city where you can find an inn of reasonable afford. Especially for a wayward soul such as yourself.”
“Well, thank you,” I tittered clumsily. “And thank your ensign.”
With but a nod from the man I was ushered out of the cabin. I left the other side of the ship and entered the barracks grounds which were surprisingly active for that time of night. Dozens of men shuffled about and some were even training.
No wonder they are considered the best navy in Paelstor, I thought.
At last I was led to a large gate that was slowly lifted by two men turning a huge metal wheel. The gate creaked open, and on the other side was Watermire City.
“Welcome to the South End,” said one of the guards who had led me there. I noticed a quirky grin cross his face, like he knew something that I didn’t.
I soon found out.
After crossing the threshold I discovered that the South End was reputable for good reason. It was the bad part of town, to put it simply. Beggars and drunkards and ladies of the night stumbled through the streets before me. Their clothes were drab and dusty and everything seemed grey or some variation of grey. The smell was wretched and I couldn’t make out exactly what it was… maybe some combination of all the unpleasant smells human bodies are capable of making… I tried to hold my breath.
I certainly was not expecting to find a pleasant place to stay in this part of town. So I kept walking. After some time I began to notice a change in the city. It was less smelly, less dank, and certainly more inviting. Candles began to glow with increasing light and it lifted my spirits. Rowdy noises of people enjoying each other’s companies replaced groans of agony and requests for coins.
And at last I found a place I could agree with. It was a popular looking inn, very warm and bright from the outside. A handful of people were standing in front with beer mugs in hand, laughing and talking. Fragrant scents of home-cooked food wafted out from within. The sign read: “The Dancing Eel Tavern.”
I entered and found a seat by the bar. The barkeep glanced at me with little interest but asked what I’d have. I told him a pint of their best and a suggestion for a warm dinner. He told me his favorite was the lobster and flounder soup. I took him up on the offer.
While enjoying the sweet and heavy stout I saw my soup come out served in the opened shell of the lobster tail. It was a large lobster. The soup was delicious, with a healthy mix of garlic, lemon and butter that formed a creamy soup base, almost more like a chowder. I devoured it voraciously with a warm bread roll that was fresh and soft.
Then I reached into my pocket and found scraps of money. “Shit,” I found myself saying. “I’m not sure I have enough. Is there any way I can work off the rest of what I owe you?”
The barkeep turned from neutral to grumpy and barked, “We don’t do that here!”
“I’ve got it,” said a new voice from a ways down the bar. A short, brolicky man with a thick hooded robe over a hunched back stood up and came our way. “How much is it?”
“Thank you, kind sir,” I said, “but I cannot accept your money for this.”
“Certainly you can,” he said before turning back to the barkeep. “How much?”
“His tab his thirty silvers,” the barkeep said, keeping an eye on me while drying his hands with a rag.
The hunched back man laid out a gold coin, worth a hundred silvers, “Keep the rest, good friend. And get this man a room for the night, he looks like he could use it. A good room, with a bath!”
The barkeep looked honestly shocked but took the money quickly, pocketing it like he was doing some wrong.
“Thank you, uh,” I started to say to the man who had just overpaid for my meal and room.
“Jaran,” said the man. “Don’t mention it. It is my nature to help those in need.” He smiled broadly and extended his hand towards mine.
Jaran! My conscious memory caught up with me again as I offered my hand in return. I remembered the dream state I was in, and that I was reliving past experiences… even if there were some unusual changes to the exact unfolding of them…
“Jaran! I can’t believe it. This is the night we met. But it wasn’t like this. I was… I came into town differently… I was drinking my misery away. You came to console me and we became friends. And I don’t remember you covering your wings! Well, I don’t remember much about your wings then.” By this time I was almost shouting.
“Shh, do you want everyone here listening and watching us?” Jaran seemed nervous. “I know it’s a dream, but let’s focus on you and your part in it, without getting the whole place involved, ok?”
“Got it,” I said. “So, wait, what’s this about then? Why am I here? I have watched old memories in this long dream tonight… are you really here or are you just a dream version?”
“What’s the difference, my good friend?” Jaran said. But the way he said it gave me assurance that my true friend was really here, taking part in this moment in his own way.
“As to the why,” my friend continued, “I will tell you. I am here to remind you of who you are. You have seen who you have been, and that is not who you are! You are so much more. And that it why you are here. That it why you were brought to the mountain. Why I brought you there, to Starhome. Why you are partaking in your ascension process.”
“Jaran,” I said. “Before you took me to the mountain… When you told me you had something to show me that would change my life, I was intrigued. When Angie explained that I would be tested in a series of trials for my ascension, I was curious to know more. I was game to try it, though in many ways I do not know why. A saner part of my brain thinks it should have told me to run for the hills, as it were. But I didn’t. And I have learned much in my trials. But I must say, this one is baffling me. Why relive my past? Why see those sad memories? Why, in fact, are my memories mixed up with other people and events? The waterfall, the giant… the river…the strange barracks…”
“I can understand your confusion,” Jaran began to explain. “It is all ok. You are doing just what you need to. You needed to remember some of those moments that you let shape so much of your life. Because you need to release them now. You are not your history and you can let that go. You will be lighter for it and your path upwards will be benefited by your lightness. You are a light being.”
“I still don’t get it,” I said, getting more puzzled by the minute.
“Look,” Jaran tried, “the dream state you are in is a crossing over of thresholds of consciousness. I know it may seem like a lot to take in. Remember Neverwhere? That place you were for your first trials? In some ways that is still where you are. It is a holding place for things that may be. It is not much unlike a dream state. So the place you are experiencing right now could be understood as a blending of these places… your memories, the dream world, Neverwhere, the real world… this is a rudimentary understanding, but it may help you perceive it more clearly. You are in all these places at once, but the barriers that usually block them are not existing right now. So everything is possible in this place.”
“Ok, I guess I can follow you on that one,” I said. “But I am getting mixed up what is real and what is not… did I really jump that night? Did I fall into the river? Who saved me?”
“Sadly, yes, you did jump in your state of deep despair that night,” Jaran bemoaned. “And it was I who saved you. I pulled you from the river and led you to Watermire City. I was waiting for you in this tavern that night to meet you, to guide you on your way.”
“So, you have been leading me all along?” I asked. “Towards Starhome? Towards this ascension process? And what did you mean by me being a light being?”
“In many ways, yes. I have been guiding your process. But only with your consent,” Jaran made a point to say. “It has always been you who has allowed this unfolding to continue to happen. You heard my words and followed my teachings every step of the way. When I took you to the mountain it was because you were ready for it. You are a being of light. In fact, many are, in fact all are, or can be. Most have simply forgotten. But you had remembrances… you had clues… you felt tuggings in your life. Of something greater. Some greater purpose or potential for your life to unfold in ways which you were not experiencing. Does this sound familiar?”
“Yes!” bells were ringing in my head. Memories of such things that he mentioned, feelings, nudgings, whispers, desires that I could not grasp. “I do know what you mean. Yet I don’t at the same time. I’m afraid I am still a bit lost about this whole ascension process you speak of. What is my purpose to be as I do this? What will come of my trials? What indeed is the point of this supposed trial of joy? How am I learning joy through this experience?”
“Ah, my friend, you are full of questions,” Jaran laughed and set me at ease a bit. “This is why I have been guiding you, why I have been sent here. To nudge you along and help as I may. But I cannot answer all of your questions. Much of what you seek will be felt in the journey you have yet to live before you. Let the trials, let your experiences be your teachers. You will know what you need to know when you find yourself ready to know. That in many ways is the key. Your readiness to know.”
“Ok,” I allowed. “So I accept that my life and my experience will teach me and that you cannot know all the answers for me. Fine. But I still don’t get this thing about joy. Can you give me a hint?”
“Sure. Perhaps that is why I am here for you tonight,” Jaran smiled again. “Joy. What is joy? Does it mean you are always happy? Does it mean your life brings you pleasure? Does it mean you get what you want always?”
“I suppose my first instinct is to answer those questions with a ‘no,’” I said. “But that puzzles me, because I do not know how to qualify joy without those definitions.”
“Yes,” Jaran seemed excited. “That is the limitation of the mind getting in the way of the feeling. What does joy feel like? When can you remember truly feeling joy?”
I always loved his way of teaching and the excitement he showed in doing so. I played the game. “Joy feels like ease, like bliss, like everything is taken care of… Hmm, when can I remember feeling like that? In some ways with my kids. I felt joyful when I was with them. Or maybe I just felt their joy… Hmm, I wonder if…”
A trip even further down memory lane began clicking things into place for me then. “Ah, I am getting this feeling… something I can remember having, but I am not sure when. Maybe, yes, maybe it was when I was a child myself. Maybe that’s what I felt around my kids. Not so much my joy in them, but their joy in life! Yes, when I was a child I remember feeling that way. Like the universe opened up to me with a loving, warm embrace. Like I was held and nourished in all ways. Like everything was ok and all was going to work out. Like I knew things were happening for a reason. Like anything was possible. Like I chose to be here for a reason and that it was supposed to be fun, that it was supposed to feel good… Wow, that is such an overwhelmingly wonderful feeling! Why have I forgotten that? Where did I turn wrong in my life to lose that feeling?”
“You did nothing wrong!” Jaran advised me. “In fact, you have just done everything right! You’ve got it! You felt that feeling, that joy, that knowing that all is well and that life is supposed to be good. Only things happen in the world around you that make you forget this. People, events, teachings from the world at large inform your perspective in ways that make life seem harder than it needs to be. It needn’t be that way! You can live in joy! You and everyone out there. It is a matter of remembering that you can and accepting it, claiming it again for yourself, yourselves… Do you get it?”
“I do,” I breathed with a sense of ease and delight. “To be honest, I really think I do.”
“Life is a wonder, my truly good friend. Live it in joy and be easy!” Jaran’s smile was broader than ever as he moved in to give me a powerful hug.
The tavern scene continued around us. Candles flickered. Glasses clinked. Voices droned on.
And not a care in the world could cross my mind. What joy.
“
Woo hoo! I felt that one!
Thanks so much for reading.
Please leave comments and share.
Blessings to you,
Matthew