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LOST AND LOVED IN A DARK WOOD ~ Dick Holmes
LOST AND LOVED IN A DARK WOOD
I was suffering from a heavy-duty case of high school
senioritis, that's all. That's what Bob
the guidance counselor concluded at the end of our
session I was required to undergo
after the principal met with my parents and me.
I appreciated the encouraging mercy of
Bob's making light of my condition --
I could tell he was just trying to help me stop
taking myself so seriously, a worthy goal that, I'd already
discovered, provided soothing temporary relief,
but I knew that his diagnosis fell short of the
underlying problem, even though I couldn't fathom
what that problem was. After all, I'd long been
no stranger to the itises. I'd already been through
severe cases of junioritis, sophomoreitis, and freshmanitis,
so I could tell what was itis and what was
something beyond that. This was beyond that.
This was more like a universal blues without a cause,
like the rolling rock myth of Sisyphus syndrome,
like a Mahapralaya black hole event.
So, immediately after my talk with Bob, I made
a decision. Decisive, in-the-moment decision making,
I figured, was a good way to grab the bull of health
by the horns and begin to turn things around -- if there
were actually things and they could be turned around.
(In my state, much if not all remained to be seen.)
Anyway, I decided to walk, right then and there,
cut my world lit class, go home and pack my backpack,
hit the road and head for the mountain woods.
It was a good time to make a break for it;
my parents were at work, so I was free to pack
without interference from them. In less than an hour,
I was ready to go. I slung my pack on and walked
to a fairly well-traveled back road at the edge of town.
There I stuck my thumb out and prayed -- first that
someone would pick me up, and second that
whoever picked me up wouldn't be someone who
knew me and might blow the whistle on me.
My prayers were answered almost immediately,
a sure sign, I took that to mean, that I was doing
the right thing. An ancient guy I'd never seen before
picked me up in an old blue, beat-up Ford pickup.
"Name's Alvin," he said. "'Friend of elves,' it means.
Comes from the Old English. What's your name, son?"
"Kale."
By this time, we were rolling out of town
in the direction of the mountains, and for the
first time in my life I caught a heady whiff of freedom in the air.
"Kale, now that's a mighty fine name, like a trident
or a three-sided coin, if there is such a thing, heh heh.
On one side you've got the Irish Gaelic origin of it,
meaning 'thin.' On another side, there's the
Germanic, meaning 'free man.' And then third's
the Hebrew take on it, meaning 'dog-like devotion to God.'
Yesiree, Kale, lots of ways you can go with that name.
By the look of you, I'd say you're thin, alright --
in respect to body shape, anyway. Maybe in
other respects, too, eh? And evidently you're about as
free as you can be, at least at the moment, eh?
And the dog-like devotion to God -- well, we'll just
have to wait and see on that one, won't we? That one's
a bit harder to call till the very end, know what I mean?"
With that last sentence, he turned his head toward me
for a moment and shot me a twinkle in his eye that
stayed in my mind like an afterimage
for a long time afterwards. As a matter of fact, it's
still there, all these years later, whenever I recall that moment.
"Where you heading, Kale?"
"Anywhere in the mountains,
anywhere I can take a long walk in the woods."
"Hey, heh heh, just so happens I'm going right by there.
This must be your lucky day. There's a trailhead
right off this road. From there, you can just follow
the butterflies and see where they take you."
"Thanks, Alvin. Yeah, I think this is my lucky day.
It couldn't have turned out better so far, anyway."
"'So far,' Kale, now that's one of my favorite expressions.
And it'll still be your lucky day even when you reach
the end of that expression. Remember that."
Two hours later, Alvin pulled over to the side of the road
and pointed a long, bony finger toward an opening
in the trees. "There it is, a beauty of a mountain trail.
It'll take you high and low, round and round. Plenty of
variety and jaw-dropping views. I have a feeling you're
about to experience something great along the way.
Just keep your eyes and ears open, breathe through your
nose, and enjoy. Always enjoy."
"Thanks, Alvin. You're the man."
"I'm the friend of elves, heh heh." And there was that
pointed twinkle in his eye again.
Old Alvin knew what he was talking about. No sooner
had I set foot on the trail than a big blue butterfly
fluttered up from out of nowhere and glided
ahead of me up the trail for quite a spell. And when
it winged off into the blue between the leaves,
it wasn't long before another butterfly appeared
and became my new pathfinder or guardian angel
or whatever it was. And he was right about the
whole scene, so various and breathtaking and giving
in its awesome views.
But before I knew it the sun had gone down,
and it was getting dark fast. And in my haste to get
out of town, I'd forgotten to take a flashlight --
or matches to light a fire with. Now what?
"Keep walking, keep walking all night long if you have to,"
was all I could think to do.
So that's what I did, on and then off the trail, once I
couldn't make it out anymore. I just kept walking,
deeper and deeper into the cold, moonless wood.
"Feel for a space and go there," I told myself. "Take your
time, find the space, and let that be your path."
And then eventually I could say,
after trusting and finding there always
was a space to step into, "This is my lucky day,
my lucky day, my lucky day," I said again and again,
remembering Old Alvin and the twinkle in his eye.
Then at last during that long, long night, I saw a light
pulsing in the distance. As I got closer and closer to it,
I saw that it was coming from inside a cabin.
Yes, it was the warm light of a fireplace fire! "O my lucky day!"
Just as I was about to knock on the door, it opened, and
standing there before me was a really ancient, longhaired
man such as I'd never seen before. His eyes flickering
like the firelight, he invited me in.
"Come in, young man, and sit awhile with old Virgil and me."
He led me to a chair near the fire and introduced himself.
"I'm Dante and this is Virgil."
Needless to say, I was taken aback -- all the way back.
"You mean . . . the Dante and Virgil, the immortal ones?"
"You've got it, son," Dante said. Virgil appeared to be
dozing in a little sofa on the opposite side of the fireplace.
"But . . . but I thought you guys . . . died several centuries ago!"
"Well, as you said, though, we're immortal, and here we
still are. Are you Kale, by any chance?"
"How did you know?!"
"Oh, we have a friend who has a way of letting us
know things. It's a little hard to explain how he does that,
but it's not important. The important thing is that you
persevered and found your way here. Do you know
what it is that brought you so deep into these woods?"
"Well, no, I don't. That's my question, really. Do you
know the answer to it?"
"Heh heh, no, no, I don't, but I do know someone who
can help you find your way by taking you in a little
deeper yet. Would you like to meet her?"
". . . Beatrice, you mean?! Of course I would!"
So with no further ado, we set out at once
for the great Lady of Love's place, which Dante said was
just a short walk away. Along the way there,
he somehow transformed his craggy old speaking voice
into pure song. After the first few words, I recognized
what he was singing; it was a poem from La Vita Nuova
celebrating his Beatrice:
I felt a stirring in my heart
of a spirit of love that had been asleep.
And then seeing Love coming from afar,
I was so happy that I barely recognized Him.
"Now think only to honor Me," He said,
with a beaming smile in each word.
And as I stood there with my Lord, I saw
walking toward me on the same road He'd come by
Lady Vanna and Lady Beatrice,
one miracle behind the other.
"The first lady is Spring," Lord Love said,
"and following her is a lady so like Me
her name is Love." *
The fire in Beatrice's fireplace was still going, too, and
she said, "Come on in!" when she heard Dante's voice.
When we'd stepped inside, I saw her first as the moon
sitting there on a pillow, a radiant saffron full moon glowing.
Then as my eyes adjusted to the light in her cabin,
the resplendent form of a young woman
began to take shape, not at all the ancient lady I'd
been expecting after seeing the gnarled old tree knobs
Dante and Virgil appeared as in their immortality.
And unlike the nervous, guarded people of my age,
including me, a kind of walking, full-body tic, really,
Beatrice was perfectly poised and every move she made
was mindfully slow and graceful.
"Kale, this is Beatrice," Dante said. "Beatrice, Kale."
"Tell me about yourself, Kale," she said. "I'm listening."
"Dante tells me that you can read me, Beatrice.
I feel the symptoms, but I can't identify the disease.
Bob the guidance counselor tells me I've got senioritis,
but I know it's something way deeper than that. Tell me,
please -- what is it, and what can I do about it?"
"You're simply in too big a rush, Kale, that's what.
It's all going by you with your hardly being aware of it.
But don't worry, that's just your culture jerking you
around, your shooting star 2010 culture
burning itself out. 'Rush, rush, rush,' it demands,
like a roaring factory machine. 'Hurry up and grow up
as prematurely as possible so that you can stay young
and restless forever.' As if that were a promising prospect.
No, Kale, let that go through one ear and out the other.
Just slow down that racing mind and speed up your heart
and you'll be alright. You can start by stretching yourself
out on that mat near the fire. Rest there till dawn,
and by then you'll be completely refreshed and
ready to begin your vita nuova."
The combination of Beatrice's insight into the nature
of my condition, her prescription for the cure, and the
assurance of her sweet voice started working on me
immediately. I felt a wave of bliss wash over me and
take me out to sea the instant I lay down on the mat
she'd graciously offered me.
When I woke up, I felt wholly rejuvenated, just as
she'd said I would. I sat up on the mat and saw
Dante and her sitting at her little kitchen table
with a pot of steaming tea and empty cups waiting
for each of us.
We shared stories and laughs over tea and Beatrice's
homemade bread and blackberry jam, and then it was
time for me to be heading back home. I'd gotten what I'd
come for.
"Enjoy your walk, every step!" Beatrice called out after me
from the doorway of her cabin.
"And your studies!" Dante chimed in. "And say hello
to your world lit teacher for me!"
Somehow, I could sense which way to walk
without even thinking about it, and within a few steps,
I found myself, to my amazement, at the trailhead
where I'd begun my trek!
Standing at the side of the road to hitch a ride back
home, I had the peculiar, paradoxical feeling that
my feet were simultaneously rooted in the ground
and yet were barely touching it.
~
* My rendering of "I Felt My Heart Awaken," in Dante Alighieri's La Vita Nuova
~
Dick Holmes
A friend from Poetry Chaikhana....http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=11346
I was suffering from a heavy-duty case of high school
senioritis, that's all. That's what Bob
the guidance counselor concluded at the end of our
session I was required to undergo
after the principal met with my parents and me.
I appreciated the encouraging mercy of
Bob's making light of my condition --
I could tell he was just trying to help me stop
taking myself so seriously, a worthy goal that, I'd already
discovered, provided soothing temporary relief,
but I knew that his diagnosis fell short of the
underlying problem, even though I couldn't fathom
what that problem was. After all, I'd long been
no stranger to the itises. I'd already been through
severe cases of junioritis, sophomoreitis, and freshmanitis,
so I could tell what was itis and what was
something beyond that. This was beyond that.
This was more like a universal blues without a cause,
like the rolling rock myth of Sisyphus syndrome,
like a Mahapralaya black hole event.
So, immediately after my talk with Bob, I made
a decision. Decisive, in-the-moment decision making,
I figured, was a good way to grab the bull of health
by the horns and begin to turn things around -- if there
were actually things and they could be turned around.
(In my state, much if not all remained to be seen.)
Anyway, I decided to walk, right then and there,
cut my world lit class, go home and pack my backpack,
hit the road and head for the mountain woods.
It was a good time to make a break for it;
my parents were at work, so I was free to pack
without interference from them. In less than an hour,
I was ready to go. I slung my pack on and walked
to a fairly well-traveled back road at the edge of town.
There I stuck my thumb out and prayed -- first that
someone would pick me up, and second that
whoever picked me up wouldn't be someone who
knew me and might blow the whistle on me.
My prayers were answered almost immediately,
a sure sign, I took that to mean, that I was doing
the right thing. An ancient guy I'd never seen before
picked me up in an old blue, beat-up Ford pickup.
"Name's Alvin," he said. "'Friend of elves,' it means.
Comes from the Old English. What's your name, son?"
"Kale."
By this time, we were rolling out of town
in the direction of the mountains, and for the
first time in my life I caught a heady whiff of freedom in the air.
"Kale, now that's a mighty fine name, like a trident
or a three-sided coin, if there is such a thing, heh heh.
On one side you've got the Irish Gaelic origin of it,
meaning 'thin.' On another side, there's the
Germanic, meaning 'free man.' And then third's
the Hebrew take on it, meaning 'dog-like devotion to God.'
Yesiree, Kale, lots of ways you can go with that name.
By the look of you, I'd say you're thin, alright --
in respect to body shape, anyway. Maybe in
other respects, too, eh? And evidently you're about as
free as you can be, at least at the moment, eh?
And the dog-like devotion to God -- well, we'll just
have to wait and see on that one, won't we? That one's
a bit harder to call till the very end, know what I mean?"
With that last sentence, he turned his head toward me
for a moment and shot me a twinkle in his eye that
stayed in my mind like an afterimage
for a long time afterwards. As a matter of fact, it's
still there, all these years later, whenever I recall that moment.
"Where you heading, Kale?"
"Anywhere in the mountains,
anywhere I can take a long walk in the woods."
"Hey, heh heh, just so happens I'm going right by there.
This must be your lucky day. There's a trailhead
right off this road. From there, you can just follow
the butterflies and see where they take you."
"Thanks, Alvin. Yeah, I think this is my lucky day.
It couldn't have turned out better so far, anyway."
"'So far,' Kale, now that's one of my favorite expressions.
And it'll still be your lucky day even when you reach
the end of that expression. Remember that."
Two hours later, Alvin pulled over to the side of the road
and pointed a long, bony finger toward an opening
in the trees. "There it is, a beauty of a mountain trail.
It'll take you high and low, round and round. Plenty of
variety and jaw-dropping views. I have a feeling you're
about to experience something great along the way.
Just keep your eyes and ears open, breathe through your
nose, and enjoy. Always enjoy."
"Thanks, Alvin. You're the man."
"I'm the friend of elves, heh heh." And there was that
pointed twinkle in his eye again.
Old Alvin knew what he was talking about. No sooner
had I set foot on the trail than a big blue butterfly
fluttered up from out of nowhere and glided
ahead of me up the trail for quite a spell. And when
it winged off into the blue between the leaves,
it wasn't long before another butterfly appeared
and became my new pathfinder or guardian angel
or whatever it was. And he was right about the
whole scene, so various and breathtaking and giving
in its awesome views.
But before I knew it the sun had gone down,
and it was getting dark fast. And in my haste to get
out of town, I'd forgotten to take a flashlight --
or matches to light a fire with. Now what?
"Keep walking, keep walking all night long if you have to,"
was all I could think to do.
So that's what I did, on and then off the trail, once I
couldn't make it out anymore. I just kept walking,
deeper and deeper into the cold, moonless wood.
"Feel for a space and go there," I told myself. "Take your
time, find the space, and let that be your path."
And then eventually I could say,
after trusting and finding there always
was a space to step into, "This is my lucky day,
my lucky day, my lucky day," I said again and again,
remembering Old Alvin and the twinkle in his eye.
Then at last during that long, long night, I saw a light
pulsing in the distance. As I got closer and closer to it,
I saw that it was coming from inside a cabin.
Yes, it was the warm light of a fireplace fire! "O my lucky day!"
Just as I was about to knock on the door, it opened, and
standing there before me was a really ancient, longhaired
man such as I'd never seen before. His eyes flickering
like the firelight, he invited me in.
"Come in, young man, and sit awhile with old Virgil and me."
He led me to a chair near the fire and introduced himself.
"I'm Dante and this is Virgil."
Needless to say, I was taken aback -- all the way back.
"You mean . . . the Dante and Virgil, the immortal ones?"
"You've got it, son," Dante said. Virgil appeared to be
dozing in a little sofa on the opposite side of the fireplace.
"But . . . but I thought you guys . . . died several centuries ago!"
"Well, as you said, though, we're immortal, and here we
still are. Are you Kale, by any chance?"
"How did you know?!"
"Oh, we have a friend who has a way of letting us
know things. It's a little hard to explain how he does that,
but it's not important. The important thing is that you
persevered and found your way here. Do you know
what it is that brought you so deep into these woods?"
"Well, no, I don't. That's my question, really. Do you
know the answer to it?"
"Heh heh, no, no, I don't, but I do know someone who
can help you find your way by taking you in a little
deeper yet. Would you like to meet her?"
". . . Beatrice, you mean?! Of course I would!"
So with no further ado, we set out at once
for the great Lady of Love's place, which Dante said was
just a short walk away. Along the way there,
he somehow transformed his craggy old speaking voice
into pure song. After the first few words, I recognized
what he was singing; it was a poem from La Vita Nuova
celebrating his Beatrice:
I felt a stirring in my heart
of a spirit of love that had been asleep.
And then seeing Love coming from afar,
I was so happy that I barely recognized Him.
"Now think only to honor Me," He said,
with a beaming smile in each word.
And as I stood there with my Lord, I saw
walking toward me on the same road He'd come by
Lady Vanna and Lady Beatrice,
one miracle behind the other.
"The first lady is Spring," Lord Love said,
"and following her is a lady so like Me
her name is Love." *
The fire in Beatrice's fireplace was still going, too, and
she said, "Come on in!" when she heard Dante's voice.
When we'd stepped inside, I saw her first as the moon
sitting there on a pillow, a radiant saffron full moon glowing.
Then as my eyes adjusted to the light in her cabin,
the resplendent form of a young woman
began to take shape, not at all the ancient lady I'd
been expecting after seeing the gnarled old tree knobs
Dante and Virgil appeared as in their immortality.
And unlike the nervous, guarded people of my age,
including me, a kind of walking, full-body tic, really,
Beatrice was perfectly poised and every move she made
was mindfully slow and graceful.
"Kale, this is Beatrice," Dante said. "Beatrice, Kale."
"Tell me about yourself, Kale," she said. "I'm listening."
"Dante tells me that you can read me, Beatrice.
I feel the symptoms, but I can't identify the disease.
Bob the guidance counselor tells me I've got senioritis,
but I know it's something way deeper than that. Tell me,
please -- what is it, and what can I do about it?"
"You're simply in too big a rush, Kale, that's what.
It's all going by you with your hardly being aware of it.
But don't worry, that's just your culture jerking you
around, your shooting star 2010 culture
burning itself out. 'Rush, rush, rush,' it demands,
like a roaring factory machine. 'Hurry up and grow up
as prematurely as possible so that you can stay young
and restless forever.' As if that were a promising prospect.
No, Kale, let that go through one ear and out the other.
Just slow down that racing mind and speed up your heart
and you'll be alright. You can start by stretching yourself
out on that mat near the fire. Rest there till dawn,
and by then you'll be completely refreshed and
ready to begin your vita nuova."
The combination of Beatrice's insight into the nature
of my condition, her prescription for the cure, and the
assurance of her sweet voice started working on me
immediately. I felt a wave of bliss wash over me and
take me out to sea the instant I lay down on the mat
she'd graciously offered me.
When I woke up, I felt wholly rejuvenated, just as
she'd said I would. I sat up on the mat and saw
Dante and her sitting at her little kitchen table
with a pot of steaming tea and empty cups waiting
for each of us.
We shared stories and laughs over tea and Beatrice's
homemade bread and blackberry jam, and then it was
time for me to be heading back home. I'd gotten what I'd
come for.
"Enjoy your walk, every step!" Beatrice called out after me
from the doorway of her cabin.
"And your studies!" Dante chimed in. "And say hello
to your world lit teacher for me!"
Somehow, I could sense which way to walk
without even thinking about it, and within a few steps,
I found myself, to my amazement, at the trailhead
where I'd begun my trek!
Standing at the side of the road to hitch a ride back
home, I had the peculiar, paradoxical feeling that
my feet were simultaneously rooted in the ground
and yet were barely touching it.
~
* My rendering of "I Felt My Heart Awaken," in Dante Alighieri's La Vita Nuova
~
Dick Holmes
A friend from Poetry Chaikhana....http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?t=11346