The Read Soul

My agent gave his best effort to look at me soberly. He wanted me to know that what he was about to say was important. I didn’t know why he was trying so hard to be serious. It was making me nervous. “John just tell me what the news is,” I said. “Fine. Fair enough,” he responded. “Ben, when last we spoke you pitched me on an idea for a book and you gave me a sample of what you wanted it to look like in this little book.” He held up the elegant black journal I had given to him with two handwritten chapters in it. Of course, I had also emailed him the text. He went on: “You explained that your vision for the book was, upon completion, to have a publisher reproduce copies to look as close to this journal as possible, down to the handwriting.” “Yes, I know John, and...” He cut me off and continued: “I was, and I continue to be, skeptical of this idea. In fact, I think it’s a bad one. I tried to talk you out of it, but you said there was no turning back.” I could tell what was coming, and I attempted to intercept his rejection so that I could transmute it into some kind of new possibility, but he wouldn’t have it. “Just shhh for a moment Ben.” His gray mustache fluttered. “Where was I?”

...

“I’m not ready!” the boy cried. But his guide was unconvinced. He explained to the young man that it was his time to cross the threshold into the unknowable, that he had been chosen, not accidentally. The boy looked up with pleading eyes at the elder who remained ancient and unmoved. The youngster knew that this trip meant certain death, a physical one to be sure, and likely a spiritual one as well... “How could it not be both?” he thought. Once upon another time, the shaman nudging him forward had made a similar journey. One would think this knowledge would have comforted the boy. After all, this revered holy man had gone to the other side, made it back, and for generations had served their community as a powerful and wise healer. The young man asked himself why he wouldn’t want to play the same role for his people. He should feel honored, he thought, but he did not; he felt terror. He had seen in they eyes of the elder what he perceived to be a burden, though he could not deny that there was also a spark. Still, the old man lived differently from the others and tended to responsibilities no one else could understand. He was alone in ways the boy did not want to be. He could see and feel things no one else could; he could locate demons in the energy bodies of his fellow tribespeople and extricate them, battling dark forces with a fierceness and gentleness that was confounding to the youngster. He was a force of light to be sure, but he was only effective because he knew the darkness so well. The boy did not want to be intimate with shadow creatures. He tried again to tell the shaman that he couldn’t possibly do it. The lines on the weathered, leather face of the medicine man pulled upward as he smiled and said “I felt the same way when my time had come, but the greatest gift I ever gave myself was to accept my destiny. I encourage you to do the same. That way, when you do meet death, you will remain still and your consciousness will stay together. The job is much harder when we fall apart. It takes much longer to carry out a mission when one’s awareness has splintered.”

“A mission?” the boy inquired. “Yes, your mission,” the old man sounded a touch impatient. “You are not going on vacation young fool. You have to retrieve the spirit of one of your soul’s incarnations. If you do not, or cannot, you will never return here, and we may perish as a people. But if you succeed, you will bring honor to yourself and all of us, and with the Great Mystery smiling, you will return, as I did.” “I, I, I don’t understand,” the boy stuttered. “What does one of my soul’s incarnations have to do with the whole of our people?” “I can’t tell you,” replied the elder. The boy was frustrated by this. He was to sacrifice his own life, in order to save somebody else’s spirit which was somehow also his, or was attached to his soul; and not only that, but it was essential for the survival of all of his people. “Why can’t you tell me?!” the boy screamed, anger meeting his fear now. The old man chuckled and answered “Because I don’t know. My journey was different than yours will be, though some elements are the same...the start, for example. I stood on this very ledge myself. Now it’s your turn to make the leap.”

The boy peered over the edge of the rocky, red-clay-colored cliff on which they were standing, glimpsing the swirling, evergreen water fifty feet below. It was iridescent under the star-filled sky, with its two half-moons hanging low, as if they were watching the quaint drama just beneath them. “They probably are watching,” the boy thought as the breathing universe let out a restless sigh, a smack of wind pushing him towards the steep drop and glowing water. The gust spiked the adrenaline already turning in his belly, but unlike most of us, it was not the fifty foot plunge he feared. He was adept at cliff-jumping and quite enjoyed it. It was the thought of the moment after he entered the water that was shaking him. He knew that after his body knifed into the deceptive, gentle-looking whirlpool, he would not come back up; instead, he would be propelled downward until he arrived ... where exactly?! In another dimension? He would have nothing to grasp onto, nothing to hold him to himself. The old man interrupted his fearful rumination as if he could hear it (could he?). “I almost forgot...Well, I was a bit distracted by your fear... I have a gift for you.” He pulled a small black, rectangular object from his animal skin bag and handed it to the young man. “You’re 17 today. It is the age one such as you makes this journey, but it wouldn’t be a birthday without the present.” He handed the book to the boy and told him “Today you become a man.” The teen flipped through the pages with their strange symbols and asked, “My Teacher what is it I’m looking at?” “It’s a book,” the old man responded. “There are many of them where you are going, but this one is special because it is filled with your own writings, and in this particular one, you will write a story that will help you remember yourself and perhaps even me, your Teacher-I’m glad you realized who I am to you. Also, the book will help you gather something called money, a very important conduit of energy in that realm. It is through this book that you will open the doors to your destiny and begin your return to us.” The boy was perplexed. How could the old man know so much? “If you see so much of what is to come Teacher, why must I go?” “Haha haha hehe,” the elder laughed heartily and for too long. “I cannot fulfill your destiny. I’ve done all I can for you, which is more than my Teacher did for me. You must go now. Hold onto the book as long as you are able, as that will help you remember it when you have it again, in the other life.”

The boy shivered. “Now is the time,” said his Teacher. The young man took a deep breath and removed the furs he was wearing. It was a clear, cool night with an infinite sky. He stood naked under it, silhouetted by the moons, holding the strange book and praying for the strength and courage not only to make the leap, but also to carry out his mission. That’s when it occurred to him! He looked to his Teacher and asked “How am I to retrieve the man’s spirit and bring him back to our shared soul?” The old sorcerer smiled as his body began to expand and thin, becoming the landscape, and just before he had merged with the rocks he whispered on the breeze, “He will have to take a similar leap as you. Now fly!” The young man turned to face the steep drop and saw that the water was becoming farther away, or the cliff was rising. He couldn’t tell for sure, but the distance was definitely growing and the height was much more than fifty feet now. As he processed what he was seeing, he realized his thoughts had become his enemy; only action would do. He leapt, diving toward the center of the emerald spiral and gripping the small black book, his only tangible clue of what lay ahead.

...

“Oh yeah... And not only that, but you said you needed an advance so that you could complete your bad idea. Now I’m your agent, so I gave it a shot, and everyone said ‘No’... everyone except Motif. For some reason, beyond my mind, Motif said ‘Yes,’ and they cut us a check. Of course, I had to take my cut, but here’s the rest of it, twenty grand.” As he handed me the check I shouted “John!” You son-of-a-motherless goat! This is great news! This is the dream come true. I can write the book as it’s meant to be written!” He interrupted, “Ben I care for you. You’re a good kid, and I want this to work out, but if it doesn’t, it’s going to be a shit show, and I’m going to have to drop you.” “John,” I said “I’ve been dropped before, and I always come out the other side.”