I awakened slowly, it took some time for my eyes to adjust and come into focus.
I found myself in a large room, the walls were so far off that I could not see them, although one wall was closer, only a few hundred feet from where I was sitting. The ceiling soared above me hundreds of feet and was a very deep blue. High up on the wall, perhaps a hundred feet down from the ceiling, I saw several large beautifully framed windows. How a person would ever be able to look out the windows I could not guess.
I began to walk into the room; I say “into” only because it was away from the nearby wall. As I walked I came across other people; many of them in groups of various sizes, some were busy with tasks that seemed very important to them, others were lounging and relaxing as they conversed, and many were asleep.
I walked for some time, watching the people and observing the structure of the place, as I walked I became aware of the music. It seemed that it had always been playing, but I had not noticed it until now. It was beautiful and seemed to come from everywhere at once; it was a stringed instrument of some kind but filled with complicated melodies, as if guitars and harps were all playing perfectly together. I leaned against a pillar and closed my eyes and listened to the exquisite sounds, it was peace, and it was comfort in this strange place.
My eyes popped open, I was startled to realize that the instruments had been joined by a voice; a beautiful, strong voice that blended perfectly with the music, the beauty of it filled me with wonder and the strength of it filled me with fear, it was intoxicating. I resumed walking, quicker now in hopes of finding the singer. I spotted a small group of people on the lane in front of me; it was a man, a woman and three children, an older boy and two young girls. They were in a hurry, but my pace was quicker, and I was soon overtaking them.
“Excuse me”, I said, coming along side of them. They startled and turned to look at me, stopping as the youngest girl ran into the back of her brother. “Hello, what is it?” asked the man. He was not unfriendly, but I could see that they had other places to be and that I was interrupting their schedule.
“Do you know where the song is coming from?”, I asked simply.
“Song?”, said the man and woman together.
“Yes, the music, and that lovely voice all around us. Who is singing?”, I asked.
The man and woman stared at me and took a slight step back as if I might be dangerous. Could they not hear the majestic sound? “He means The Lady, mamma” said the youngest girl; she had been twisting and humming to herself, the way children do. After she spoke she resumed her humming and it occurred to me that she was humming along with the music.
“What Lady?” I asked.
The woman gawked at me and the man looked bemused by what I assume was a stupid question. “Oh, that”, he said, looking slightly relieved. “Yes, we hardly notice it anymore.” It was my turn to gawk, I was astounded. The little girl laughed, and her brother said, “she is near the back wall”, pointing off to my left, “how do you not know this?”, he asked me.
“I don’t know”, I replied, a little confused. “I am new here.”
We stood in the lane for a long awkward moment, then the man said, “come children, we have places to be.” They resumed their journey as the little girl shouted back, “are you going to see The Lady?”
“Yes!”, I replied.
“Tell her Mara said Hi!” she cried as they disappeared into the pillars.
I looked to my left, I saw no wall, only more pillars and other structures with people here and there. I set out in that direction. After walking for some time, it became clear to me that I was getting closer to the source of the music. I stepped out into a large open space and was startled by the scene in front of me.
It was the most open part of the room I had yet seen, with only a few pillars and some large rocks dotting the landscape. The back wall was clearly in view now, stretching for what must have been miles in both directions like the face of a giant cliff. There were many people between myself and the cliff face; some were sitting in groups, others sat by themselves among the tents and other structures that were also scattered about. Most of them were facing a huge flat rock that was jutting up from the floor perhaps only a hundred yards in front of the wall. The reason for their attention was plain to see, for there, on the rock, seated, was a woman.
A woman sitting on a rock may sound unremarkable, but I was immediately transfixed. For one thing, she must have been 50 feet tall (hard to say for sure as she was seated).
She was beautiful. She was the most stunning thing that I had ever seen. Her features were flawless, her beauty, excruciating. I could not breath. She wore a long dress, the color of it was hard to guess as it changed and shimmered with her every move. Her shape and her movements were elegant and sensual without being profane. She wore a circlet of gold on her thick dark hair woven about with many leaves and bright flowers. Her face was the picture of strength and yet was enchanting, like a chiseled Roman goddess, but softer. To gaze upon such perfection was enthralling, I could not look away, my heart raced, and my eyes filled with tears of longing.
She held a large, many-stringed instrument that she was strumming and plucking softly. She seemed to take no notice of all the people at her feet; her gaze seemed to be fixed on something on the other side of the room, her eyes managed to be both penetrating and wistful somehow. As if she were waiting for a lover.
I needed to get closer to this magnificent creature. I scanned the wide area between us and could make out a large rock that was perhaps fifty yards in front of her, I made for the rock. I climbed up onto it and stood, spellbound by the sight and sound of her as she began to sing again. Her song washed over me, and my mind was filled with light and peace.
I do not know how many days I remained on my perch, I would sleep and awake to her intoxicating beauty and the delightful sound of her singing. I understood none of the words, but it did not matter, they still spoke to me and I felt certain that I would come to understand them. Some people seemed to ignore her, others adored her; she took no notice of either, but played for all just the same. Occasionally her music would grow loud and frightening as if joined by unseen drums, terrifying and beautiful, the ground would shake. At those times every head would turn, and many would hide, but the song would always return to one of tranquility. At seemingly random moments she would cease to play and stand to her full height and point across the room. It took me some walking and climbing to determine to what she was pointing; it was the windows I had noticed days before, they must have been on every wall, but high up and unreachable.
I noticed groups of people very busy at her feet one day and decided to investigate, I climbed down from my rock and made my way forward. Her giant sandaled feet were several yards apart and there was a group of perhaps a dozen people at each foot. I approached the right foot and saw several people kissing it and others laying out trinkets and food in the form of an offering.
“Excuse me, what are you doing here?”, I asked.
A man who was kneeling in the grass looked up at me and said, “we are trying to appease her and get her to bless us.”
I looked up at the beautiful giantess, “Isn’t she already blessing all of us?”, I asked.
“We believe that she requires this of us”, responded the worshipper.
“Why do you believe that?” I asked as we both gazed up at her, “she seems to take no notice of your adoration at all.”
The man looked at me in anger and declared “she is the source of us all!”
“How do you know that? I asked. Where did she come from and who taught her to play? If she is a singer, then who is the songwriter?”
The man looked around and then said in a hushed tone, “you must not ask such childish questions, you will offend her.”
I looked back up at the woman who was singing softly now and gazing intently towards the windows, “I don’t believe that she is capable of even being offended”, I ventured.
“you don’t believe. That is the problem.” He said flatly. He then turned away from me and went back to his people.
I wandered over to the other foot which was surrounded by people in lab coats taking measurements and jotting things down. One woman was scraping with some type of blade on part of the enormous sandal, I approached her and asked, “what are you doing?”
“Getting another sample for the professor”, she responded. She then stood and walked over to a nearby table where a bespectacled man was busy with reams of notes and several instruments that I did not recognize.
I approached the “professor” and asked, “excuse me, but what are you doing to the woman?”
The man, slightly startled, looked up at me and said, “studying her of course, why do you ask?”
I pointed to the other foot, “I think those people over there are worshipping her”, I replied.
“Yes, yes, “he responded, “those poor deluded fools, they are quite unenlightened, we have been trying to educate them, but they prefer to remain in their ignorance. If we can get their children and train them to think differently then perhaps all future generations will see her for what she truly is.”
“And what is that?” I asked.
“She is just The Woman, something to be studied and understood, not feared or worshipped”, he said, a bit condescendingly. “Many of us have dedicated our lives to studying her.”
“Have you learned much?” I asked.
“Of course,”, he said, as he removed his glasses and began wiping them with a cloth. “We have learned much and are learning more all the time.”
I stepped back and looked up into her strong face, “where did she come from?” I asked shyly.
“Eh? What? what do mean?” he responded.
I looked back down at the professor who was now leaning back in his chair looking up at me, “where did she come from?” I repeated.
“She has always been, of course”, he said, as if I had uttered an absurdity.
“How can that be?” I asked.
“It is an established fact; that is well known by all who study her”, he said, his voice beginning to take on an impatient quality.
“Have you always been?” I asked.
“What?” he responded, incredulously.
“Have you always been?” I repeated.
“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous”, he responded. I noticed that he liked to say “of course” a lot.
“Well”, I said, trying to sound thoughtful, “unless you have always been, it seems impossible for you to know that she has always been.”
He waved his hand and said dismissively, “we are not philosophers here, we are scientists”, as if that somehow solved the problem.
I began to realize that, to him, my questions were childlike, but they were the only kind of questions that I had, so I pressed on.
“Why does she stand up and point so often?” I asked.
“Ah”, he said, and actually seemed interested, as If I had finally asked an intelligent question, “that is intriguing behavior for her, and after much study we have concluded that she is not actually pointing, it only looks that way to us. We must be careful not to anthropomorphize her, to humanize her.”
As if on cue, the woman stopped playing and stood up and pointed across the room, then sat down and resumed her song.
“She is obviously pointing”, I said.
“I know that it looks that way to a layman”, he said, as if he were a priest, and I a peasant.
“She is pointing toward the windows”, I stated. I had decided that my questions were legitimate, and that I would not be put off by this mans’ condescending attitude, that if these people, who had spent their lives studying this woman, could not answer any fundamental questions about her, then I would go elsewhere.
“Have you sent a team to investigate where she is pointing?” I asked.
“Of course.” he replied. “We are not amateurs here. We found nothing but wall and foliage, like everywhere else. That is why we know that she is not actually pointing at anything.”
“I think that she may be pointing outside the windows”, I responded.
The professor leaned back in his chair and laughed, “don’t be absurd!” he snorted, “of course she isn’t pointing outside the windows.”
“What?” I was puzzled. “Why would you say that?”
He looked at me as if I had three heads and said, “because, there is nothing outside those windows, there is nothing except this room.”
Now it was my turn to be incredulous. “Then why are there windows at all?” I asked.
The professor stopped laughing and looked at me bemused, as if the question had never occurred to him. He busied himself arranging the papers on the table and asked me, “young man, what is your level of training in these fields?”
“Training?” I stammered. “What fields?”
The man spread his arms and declared, “there are multiple fields of study devoted to understanding the woman and what she does, we are all accredited in multiple fields of study. What gives you the right to question us? What is your specialty?”
“I have none”, I said, rather lamely.
“Well then”, he said kindly, “perhaps you should leave the hard questions to the experts, we are learning more all the time and when we have the answers we will share them with everyone,” he began to fiddle with his instruments and notes. Our conversation, it seemed, was an end. I walked away, with no more information than when I had arrived.
I returned to my perch on the rock and gazed upon the woman, letting her music wash over me. But the questions persisted, and I had no peace. I finally stood and climbed back down. I decided to investigate her mysterious pointing for myself; I turned my back on the woman and headed across the room. It was a long walk and slightly upgrade; eventually, I arrived at the far wall of the room. I looked up the wall and could see the windows far above me, I began walking along the wall.
It was mostly foliage and stone just as the professor had said, but eventually I came upon a door. A door? Here? On the outside wall of the room? It was not much to look at, rough-hewn wood that looked weathered and beaten; one could easily have mistaken it for humble planks left against the wall. But, for some reason, I saw it for what it was immediately. It had thorns growing over it, and a large spike where the handle should be.
I looked around; I was alone, the room stretched before me, in the distance sat the woman, her music still filling the room, I turned and considered the door, what should I do? I had no choice; I reached a trembling hand to the spike and slowly opened the door, it swung open quite easily and I looked outside.
I was not prepared for what I saw; no one could have been, I fell to my knees.
The first thing I noticed was the light; it was everywhere, and it was dazzling. It was blinding and yet it did not hurt the eyes, indeed, as my eyes adjusted, it seemed that I could see forever. Which made me realize the next thing; the distance. The very largeness of the space before me; there was no limit to it, and it made me realize just how small the room at my back had been. What was before me was the real room, it seemed to extend forever in all directions; I began to realize that the room I had been in was only a precursor, a copy of this one. It was, as it were, the foyer of eternity.
I remained on my knees as the light bathed me and warmed my body, as if I had known nothing but coldness until that moment. I kept looking, trying to discover the source of the light. My eyes fell upon what might be called the center of the space; although calling something the “center” of forever seemed dubious, yet everything I had ever known about reality seemed to be suspended in this place.
The longer that I looked at the source of the light, which should have blinded my eyes, the more clearly, I could see. It began to take shape, slowly at first, but then more quickly, until all at once I realized what I was seeing.
I saw a person, seated, as if in complete authority; the longer I stared, the more I learned, the more I learned, the more I felt. The most immediate and obvious thing that I perceived was the absolute beauty of this person; if someone could perceive nothing else, they could perceive that. think of everything beautiful that you have ever seen, then multiply it by thousands; it would still not approach this persons’ beauty. This was a glorious sunrise; this was a baby’s laughter; this was a perfectly sculptured diamond reflecting the light of a thousand suns; this was every man entranced by the form of his lover, and this was so much more than all of those. This beauty was crippling. I shook; I fell to my hands and knees, I looked down, I could not bear it.
I began to feel what had always been there but was unable to perceive until now, as if a dullness in my mind had been removed; as if a veil had been lifted from heart. What I felt was unmistakable; as if I had never truly felt the real thing before, it was joy. Joy coming from the seated person, the One, who I now knew, was the source of all joy; of every happy thought I had ever had. This was not mere happiness; this was a joy that was in my marrow, and yet was also falling on me in waves. What had I done to deserve such rapture? I felt shame and glory all at once; I was undone, I laid with my face to the ground and wept.
There is no telling how long I lay in the open doorway; there seemed to be no passage of time beyond the door. I staggered to my feet, clinging to the door jam, and looked toward the seated One. I was amazed at how much eyes could see now, as if they had always been half closed. I perceived many other things “outside” now; structure upon structure, lane upon lane. Gardens bursting forth from everywhere and tumbling down the sides of buildings. Trees that must have been a thousand feet tall. The room was full of life! Indeed, I began to perceive people, countless millions of people. All moving towards the One seated, all of them being carried along in His river of delights. I desperately wanted to join them.
I turned to look back into “my” room and was shocked. What had always seemed solid and bright to me was now colorless, faded and dull, like ashes. The whole room looked lifeless compared to what I had just seen. Except the beautiful woman. With my new eyes I could see her clearly now; she had stopped playing; she was standing to her full height and was looking straight at me. I had never seen her look at anyone before. She was as beautiful as ever and I held my breath as each of us stared into the others’ eyes. Her face was pleading, but she was not begging me to return. She was urging me on; she wanted me to go through the door.
I looked on her with wonder and realized the truth. She was not the source of her own music; she was playing tunes from another land; the songwriter was the One outside. All her beauty and all her majesty were merely echoes of the true beauty, the true majesty of the One I had just seen. She was always pointing to It. I thought of the sad people at her feet and realized their folly. Whether they worshipped her or studied her didn’t really matter. They were all missing the point; they were adoring a portrait while giving no thought to the artist; they were scraping for samples in pursuit of knowledge, when they should have been dusting for fingerprints. Nothing outside the windows? Madness.
As I began to pull away I stopped, suddenly remembering something. I locked eyes with the woman one last time and shouted, “Mara says hello!”. She smiled a gentle but knowing smile, and then gave me a slight bow. I smiled, and then burst into laughter. I returned the bow; then turned and stepped out into the light.
© 2019 JD Green