Monday 19 February 2018

Stepping out of the illusion

Joel knew he was dying. This was no spiritual revelation; it was a balls to bone certainty, some incurable wasting illness that was inevitable, taking him piece by painful piece. He had a few months at worst and he didn’t know how much more he could take.
It wasn’t the disease or the pain that bothered him; they had almost become friends now; at least they were honest; they were doing anything out of malice but out of purpose; something that he no longer had.
He could no longer be himself around people; there was too much pity and misunderstanding; everyone walking on egg-shells, never planning for the future when he was in earshot. They drained him of his love of life; making him apologise for his situation, which made him feel more alone and angry.
He no longer wanted those feelings, no longer wanted to be around people that made him feel this way. Joel loved life too much to consider ending it himself; all life was a gift. One had to step outside the illusion and open themselves to the truth: death is a certainty; a friend, not something to be feared. He wanted to greet it as a friend amongst people who would understand.
He had heard of a place where death was revered and understood. It was talked of in hushed tones and only those who knew how to listen could find it.
There was a wood, bordering on train tracks where the lost, lonely and misunderstood went to die. Many of them knew their time had come and welcomed it, imparting their bodies to a single family who, for time immemorial, had taken care of their bodies, burying them with all respect afforded them.
So Joel travelled, spent many days and nights following their mournful but respectful song, enduring many hardships and much pain until his train finally reached a lone stop, on the border of Cairn Woods. There, waiting on the other side of the tracks, was a lone woman. She stood a head taller with an expansive frame, but seemed so comfortable in herself that he couldn’t help but smile at her. No words were spoken. She hugged him and he wept tears of joy. He was home.
He had come to die, to be accepted and die in peace, but on his first new morning he found that this was not to be the case.
Awoken before the sun, crippled by the storm of pain that wracked his body, he was surprised to find Earth Daughter sitting opposite him, her face serene; devoid of pity, but full of love and compassion, shining. She was not oblivious to his pain, simply accepting of it, and it helped him. He saw a depth in her eyes that he knew he could learn from and, in turn, allowed his own soul to take on those qualities. The pain did not cease but he no longer fought it.
“We must up.” She said eventually. Her skin was pale, as if composed of moonlight, her lips moist and red, but her eyes… Christ’s eyes.
“I don’t understand… I came here to die.” Joel replied.
“And so you shall, but it is not something to be taken lightly; it is not a gift freely given here. We are here to serve. It is US that have been given the gift. We have a responsibility to those that have chosen to come here; to pass through.
“You have chosen to die as you chose to live but feel that you have lost your way. Here you will find it again. When you understand, only then will you pass.”
Joel nodded and followed Earth Daughter out into the woods.

Dawn was alighting, its tendrils snaking out, awakening all that came into contact with it. From one of the trees hung a mist enshrouded body, like a long forgotten cocoon.  It was an old man, balding, his face ravaged by burns; yet there was a sense of bliss and acceptance. Joel had seen the same in Earth Daughters eyes.
“Our responsibility knows no timetable; our work is on-going; day or night. Reverence is key; we do not interfere, even if they struggle –to do so would destroy them; take away their only remaining power and dignity. We allow their souls time to make peace with their bodies and depart before we carry out our service. We then do our best to carry out their wishes, regardless of what they might be.
“Each of us is named according to our element and corresponds to the various ways of dispersal. Those that know of us will sometimes specify their wishes in accordance to how they might have lived their life, otherwise we will ask upon discovery.”
“How is that possible?” Joel asked, finding himself rocking in harmony with the man’s body, as it swayed in the wind.
“We understand people; the subtle signs that belie a life. After all, ours is a knowledge handed down generation after generation and people haven’t changed that much.” She smiled. “Today you will be joining me in preparing an Earth Burial. In time you may undertake each method of dispersal and will be able to draw strength and comfort before it is your time to pass.”

The dawn was peaceful. The mist hung, still enshrouding the rocking man. This was not a death of violence, despite the man’s ravaged appearance; his face was of a knowing calm. Joel understood the honour that he had been given.
“How is it that he is an Earth Burial when he chose to hang himself?” He asked.
“Everything has meaning. How we choose to transition is as important as any other method of travel. Bear in mind that the people who come here choose to do so; this is not borne of desperation, it is not a plea for help. We do not advocate suicide.
“Life is far too precious to squander. One must open themselves to the ways of the world and forsake the ego. If there is still only the one choice, then it is borne of true understanding and not out of reaction.
“The one you see before you now took his last step into the great unknown; he faced his transition as he faced his life: in peace. But as we prepare his body so you shall understand.”
Despite the pain, it was Joel who climbed the tree to lower the man down. The tree was ancient, the trunk worn into accessible foot and hand holds; its soft fibrous bark yielding in sympathy as Joel climbed. He took great care in untying the rope from the branch for it would have been disrespectful to cut it. Now it could be re-used by the others who would come here. When the body was at rest on the ground Earth Daughter went through the man’s pockets before taking the clothes off.
“Remember that this last journey of his was conscious; therefore everything that you find on his body is meant as a gesture. Sometimes we find letters and poems to us; thanking us for our services; likewise any money that is found will go towards our subsistence.”
In amongst the man’s possessions was a round of sandwiches which she left to one side.
“You must now dig a hole: 6x3x8ft deep; I shall show you where. We may then eat.”
“I can’t.” Joel replied, his voice breaking after the effort of lowering the man down.
“You must do what you can; you have come here to serve, to earn your place. And to be understood you must first understand. We do not ask this lightly; we will help those who help themselves from a place of knowing.
“Once upon a time the Tribe would have decided and supported the individual in their decision; but we no longer have that luxury. We will not assist you but empower you to make the next step; but it must be you who makes the choice. This man chose and he chose YOU to be witness to his crossing.”
Joel nodded and took the spade that was offered, bowing his head as he did so.
“This is not done out of torment; dig as best you can in the time that you can. Think of him, he will give you purpose and strength.”

For hours Joel dug the burial hole while Earth Daughter meditated; his pain a constant companion; known and almost loved for he didn’t allow it to define him. After the hole was dug he felt a perverse sense of pride.
“As well you should.” Earth Daughter said. “You have done him well.” They laid the man to rest in the hole gently, arranging the body as if he were sleeping. “Now we shall eat and allow him to acclimatise to his resting place.”
“Shouldn’t we wash our hands first?” Joel asked.
“That would be disrespectful. We will eat of his food and give thanks for our memories of him and then we shall say our goodbye.”
The sandwiches were simple ham and cheese, but they were among the best he had ever tasted. Joel couldn’t understand but then he looked around him; it was now almost mid-afternoon and the sun was high; everything was life affirming.
He was the rich tapestry; the skein of life that had brought him here. The hardships and pain suffered. He never thought that he could smile again, but here amongst the solace of the trees he wept with happiness for he had found himself.
He thanked the man for all that he had taught him and spend the next few hours filling in the grave, gently patting the ground when he had finished. Earth Daughter then arranged the undergrowth so it was impossible for anyone to tell that such a grave had been dug.
“We will know and that is enough. We know where each body has passed; it is our honour.”
They spent a few minutes standing over the grave site and Joel thanked Earth Daughter for her kindness before they headed back to the house where he went to bed.

That night he was surprised to find Earth Daughter in his room again. She was naked.
“I can’t…” He said, “I don’t know whether I can… my body… the pain..” He cried. She lay next to him and held him.
“Open yourself. Just be in the moment and love me because you can. Nothing else matters.” He opened himself to her and loved her for all she had shown him. The pain abated as the ecstasy of life overtook him.


Earth Daughter laid with him until morning, telling him stories of her life; honouring him with her spirit before marking his passing. He died knowing love, peace and understanding when all his life he’d known only pain. Earth Daughter returned to her family, to the life she had freely chosen and offered her blessing to all who had honoured her with their passing.

Sunday 4 February 2018

Pent up

I always have the window would down whilst driving, even in the coldest weather. With the window closed it's too much like driving a four wheeled tomb; I get tense, claustrophobic and then manic. I don't have too many passengers so don't get many complaints.
I ran over a kid a few years ago, not my fault you understand, but since then I don't even like having the seat belt on, it's so constrictive.
They say things happen in slow motion, but that's not true; that happens later during the action replays, like a channel that's on endless repeats with a broken remote control. The car breaking even as the kid hits the bumper, almost cartwheeling into the windscreen, fracturing it into a unique spiders-web. Luckily I never saw his face as he hit, just heard his screams later on.
Since then my window is wound all the way down so I can feel that there's an outside world, so I'm not totally disconnected to what's really going on. I'm not this tiny metal box on wheels...
I mean, you ever notice when someone's in an accident they identify with their car? “You hit me!”... nope, not at all. My car collided with your car, no physical contact between our respective flesh and blood bodies took place. People get very possessive about the slightest thing happening to their car. Their wives and kids... ah, who cares? Touch their car and there will be hell to pay.
Me? I had to drive, I didn't necessarily enjoy it. My job was off the beaten track -a pre-fabricated office built in the grounds of a working farm, on the site of an old slaughterhouse (I kid you not!) and my girlfriend lives about an hour away from me, so I need a car and as she doesn't drive, and can’t be bothered to travel to see me, I don't have much choice!
Anyway, this particular night I've finished work and am driving to see her; over an hour away, and we have tickets to see a film. It’s one I'm really not bothered with seeing, but we're going with a couple of her detestable friends and she wants to show me off.
Both of us have been kind of undateable and met on this website for the terminally clueless, and actually made a pact to stick with the relationship no matter what. She's in her 40's, so is about eleven years older than me and no longer wants to be single. Going for a trophy boyfriend means she can push me around, and she constantly makes me wish I had never made the vow.
Twenty minutes into the drive and it starts to rain. Hard. I don't mind getting wet sometimes and it takes a lot for me to wind the window up, but this time there's a strong wind blowing the rain right into the car and I'm getting soaked. I have no choice now.
I try winding it down a crack but it's no use, I'm still getting wet; brilliant! It's an open road and no cover, and it's pretty much straight for the next half an hour. Remember to keep breathing deep and level...
I'd love to say that the relationship has some perks. I mean, the first date was great, don't get me wrong. We spent the whole night talking and had so much to say, we just clicked. Six hours just flew and then she said, “Well, I'd normally invite you home as I don't believe in waiting for a few dates to fuck, but I'm tired. Maybe another night?”
I was bowled over to say the slightest. I wasn't even sure whether I found her attractive, but she'd already moved on to the next stage. The irony was, she was happy to fuck but not to kiss. Intimacy problems? Just what was I getting involved in?
I found out the next night....
Seems she didn't even want to wait for the next date. It was the only time she visited mine and she just turned up at my doorstep with a bottle of wine in her hand. I don't even recall giving her my address....
Anyway, we screwed for most of the night. I was woefully inexperienced but she actually liked that and enjoyed teaching me. Better to break someone in afresh as old dogs don't like learning new tricks.
But not hugging or kissing...on the mouth anyway. The sex was great though and I wonder if that was what kept me going back.
The traffic stalls with half the journey still to go and the film starting in less time than it takes to get there! I said to her not to get the early booking, but she did it deliberately. I'm her boytoy to do her bidding as she sees it. She'll pout and all that crap, but if I try to exert any control then she just laughs. I just can’t stand my ground to her, hence tonight. Her showey friends, Tracey and Paul -all la-dee-da but I really couldn't give a shit what car he drives or the amount of money he makes. She's an inferior decorator or an unemployed museum curator. They have more money than sense and want to go to an arthouse film where all you see is those annoying closed captions and stilted images, where you need to either forget what you’re watching or get thoroughly confused with who's fucking who. I mean, that's all those films are -sex, sex, sex- and if it wasn't for the fact that it turns her on more than usual I wouldn't bother going. (I'd much rather see the latest Danny Dyer film).
However, because Tracey and Paul are going they'll act as a damp squib -the anti-matter equivalent of viagra. They should be distilled, bottled and given away to sex maniacs as a curative.
They're actually grotesque in their saccharine falseness and complete insincerity. It's obvious that they care as much about each other as they do themselves, but they act like two newlyweds in a carry on film.. .but they look like bloated warthogs..
This isn't good.. I can feel my mood changing; I can feel myself getting really claustrophobic, I need to open the damn window! Need some fresh air or else I'll start going crazy and tonight is not the night for that to happen.
The road ahead blinks in Morse code as more brake lights flicker and then dominate the landscape. We're going nowhere until the traffic clears, and it's still whipping up a storm and I can't open the window in case the car gets flooded.
That doesn't stop me from trying the passenger window though -genius!
And for a while it works, the fresh air calms me right down but then I see the bloke in the lane next to me. He has his window partially wound down and I can hear his music  playing; it's something like Coldplay or something equally as depressing and crass, and he's arguing with the woman in the passenger side so he turns the volume up even louder and I'm starting to get a headache now. Part of me wants to shout at him but I shut my window again and try to find something to concentrate on.
It's unlikely that I'm going anywhere for a while now and I know that I'm going to be late and miss the first part of the film. She'll see it as a personal attack because I don't like her friends and there probably won't be any sex tonight -which is, I think, the only reason I put up with her shit.
Our pact means nothing to me. It was something else that she got me to promise in mid-blowjob. It had been years since anyone else had willingly done that and with her mouth inches away from my begging cock I would have willingly sold my mum into slavery.
There was only one thing I could do now though and that was ring her.
She wasn't happy, and that was putting it mildly. Imagine the voice of a Dalek crossed with an angry Roseanne Barr and you're close... Of course, the Warthog friends of hers were listening in and passing comment in the background. They never approved of me in the first place as I saw them for the frauds that they really were.
She wouldn't let me have a word in edgeways and the crackling of the phone made her voice sound worse -if such a thing were possible.
The rain pelting on the windscreen and windows, the brake lights flashing out an epileptics nightmare, the car closing in on me and the idiot next to me still rowing with his wife, readying to strike her and then the bastards behind start honking their horns –none of this is conducive to my worsening mood!
And then she gets inventive with her nagging. Why not? I'm a captive audience and her friends are giving her fresh ammunition, constantly feeding her nuggets. Apparently I've no imagination, no money, inexperienced in bed and I wear a raincoat.... I kid you not, she actually said that she hated the fact that I wore a raincoat. She's embarrassed to be seen with me when I wear that 'thing', she thinks I look like a degenerate...
That's it... the Mac was a gift from my parents and I love wearing it (it reminds me of Humphrey Bogart!) and with everything else that's happened on this journey so far, everything that I've kept bottled up since meeting her, everything that's happened in my whole life, I finally let it rip.
It’s a brilliant, cascading hate filled, bile flooded tirade; a wonderful waterfall of pent up frustration; the damn finally swept away.
The rain ceases.
The bloke in the car next to me stops trying to hit his wife and turns the music off.
The frantic brake lights relent and the traffic actually starts moving again.
“Got to go, darling.” I say and hang up on her now hysteric sobbing. Guess I’m no longer her little miracle worker....

I pull off at the earliest opportunity and head home with the window open, singing along to Queen's 'Keep yourself alive' at the top of my voice. Back at home I have the best wank of my life; completely guilt free. Bliss!