enjoy a sip of fresh water, instead of melted ice and snow, I see a thick cloud of smoke coming from the Cursed Mount. Whoever lives up there must have moved in quite recently, or I simply failed to notice that I have company. Who could seek a home on top of that God forsaken mount? I'm not eager to find out. Although I have found shelter in these so-called Cursed Lands, I have always feared that peak.
I let the water flow into my wrought iron bowl and observe how the sun’s rays dance over the surface. They seem to make the incised symbols move. I take a generous gulp and indulge in the freshness. The water tastes almost sweet, as if it already contained the scent of the upcoming spring. Then I behold the raven-haired woman, whom I have started to call Algíz, beside me. She’s not a phantom to me anymore, she actually seems strangely real. I’ve gotten used to her presence, because since my inner mind aligned with my cautious one, she comes to me from time to time. However, I tend to dislike her company, for she usually just stares at me. I can’t comprehend why she manifests when the rest of my ancestors, including my grandmother, have been covered up by a cloud of mystery since the time of dreams and visions ended for me. I’ve decided not to question my sanity. I don’t mind whether I'm going mad from the loneliness or not. I think I agree with what Algíz said - that I have just woken up from a very long sleep and I might finally start to see, properly.
I drink some more stream water and Algíz meanwhile points at the two birches opposite us. I notice that they are intertwined into one of the symbolic shapes, or rather, one of the secret alphabet letters.
Ingwaz.
It makes me think of a void and I feel the thrill of fear when I contemplate it. What if I'm about to face a void, or have I already passed through it?
When I take a closer look at the tree, I detect that there are many letters of the secret alphabet already inherent in the bark and in the branches. It's truly amazing how nature repeats the same patterns over and over again. Circles and crosses, crosses and circles, and the perpetual variety of this utmost simplicity. I lie on the grass, although it’s soaking wet, as I simply crave a connection to the ground these days. I let the sun fill me with light and comfort, and the thought of God again takes a hold of my mind.
I turn to Algíz, who is still by my side, and hope that perhaps she has something to say at last, but she just moves her finger to her lips and I notice how the two shapes merge into one - a cross. Then she blinks at me and disappears.
I turn back to the sun and close my eyes, wondering if I will see something through the veil of my eyelids. Nothing but the single point of light, the centre that expands and withdraws as though it is breathing. Slightly disappointed, I turn to face the forest, when an idea crosses my mind. Perhaps the sun resembles God. One can never look directly into the glory for too long, and he might blind himself if he tried. Maybe one can only see God with an inner sight, or maybe it's all right if I don’t know who or what God is. After all, there are so many wonders to explore.
*
I went mushroom picking today and found a generous amount of bolets and shaggy parasols. Then, as I idly wondered about, I sensed Daniel’s presence again. His sneaky steps approached from behind, I turned and saw him standing there, his hungry eyes popping out of his invisible greyish face. He looked like a spider lurking in the dark, but I resisted becoming a fly trapped in his slimy poison. And so I snarled at him:
“Go! Get the hell out of here! This is my home, you hear?”
I have learned that such a persistent anger aimed towards him is the only thing that keeps him away, because he seems to be attracted to my fear. This time he turned to me before vanishing, as if he was saying goodbye. I got the feeling he wouldn’t come back, at least not for a while. I
I let the water flow into my wrought iron bowl and observe how the sun’s rays dance over the surface. They seem to make the incised symbols move. I take a generous gulp and indulge in the freshness. The water tastes almost sweet, as if it already contained the scent of the upcoming spring. Then I behold the raven-haired woman, whom I have started to call Algíz, beside me. She’s not a phantom to me anymore, she actually seems strangely real. I’ve gotten used to her presence, because since my inner mind aligned with my cautious one, she comes to me from time to time. However, I tend to dislike her company, for she usually just stares at me. I can’t comprehend why she manifests when the rest of my ancestors, including my grandmother, have been covered up by a cloud of mystery since the time of dreams and visions ended for me. I’ve decided not to question my sanity. I don’t mind whether I'm going mad from the loneliness or not. I think I agree with what Algíz said - that I have just woken up from a very long sleep and I might finally start to see, properly.
I drink some more stream water and Algíz meanwhile points at the two birches opposite us. I notice that they are intertwined into one of the symbolic shapes, or rather, one of the secret alphabet letters.
Ingwaz.
It makes me think of a void and I feel the thrill of fear when I contemplate it. What if I'm about to face a void, or have I already passed through it?
When I take a closer look at the tree, I detect that there are many letters of the secret alphabet already inherent in the bark and in the branches. It's truly amazing how nature repeats the same patterns over and over again. Circles and crosses, crosses and circles, and the perpetual variety of this utmost simplicity. I lie on the grass, although it’s soaking wet, as I simply crave a connection to the ground these days. I let the sun fill me with light and comfort, and the thought of God again takes a hold of my mind.
I turn to Algíz, who is still by my side, and hope that perhaps she has something to say at last, but she just moves her finger to her lips and I notice how the two shapes merge into one - a cross. Then she blinks at me and disappears.
I turn back to the sun and close my eyes, wondering if I will see something through the veil of my eyelids. Nothing but the single point of light, the centre that expands and withdraws as though it is breathing. Slightly disappointed, I turn to face the forest, when an idea crosses my mind. Perhaps the sun resembles God. One can never look directly into the glory for too long, and he might blind himself if he tried. Maybe one can only see God with an inner sight, or maybe it's all right if I don’t know who or what God is. After all, there are so many wonders to explore.
*
I went mushroom picking today and found a generous amount of bolets and shaggy parasols. Then, as I idly wondered about, I sensed Daniel’s presence again. His sneaky steps approached from behind, I turned and saw him standing there, his hungry eyes popping out of his invisible greyish face. He looked like a spider lurking in the dark, but I resisted becoming a fly trapped in his slimy poison. And so I snarled at him:
“Go! Get the hell out of here! This is my home, you hear?”
I have learned that such a persistent anger aimed towards him is the only thing that keeps him away, because he seems to be attracted to my fear. This time he turned to me before vanishing, as if he was saying goodbye. I got the feeling he wouldn’t come back, at least not for a while. I
Similar Books
