Rise of the Mystics Page 27

  For the first time since I had met Talya, his lion, Judah, didn’t travel with us. When I asked where he was, Talya told me he’d gone home. And where was home?

  “You will see.”

  But would I?

  As much as perspective, something else had vacated me through all those hours of silent trudging up and down steep inclines and across the wide plain that delivered us to this shore. Hope. I began to give up hope. And with that numbing, I found my way easier. So I gave up even more hope and fell asleep in the comfort of my own worthlessness.

  Looking at the vast blue waters and bright blue sky now, I felt different.

  Hopeful, maybe.

  “Hopeful for what, 49th? This is the other question you get to ask yourself if you intend to be of any help to the children of slaughtered warriors.”

  The war. “It’s started?” I asked, surprised.

  He sat on a small boulder, whittling on wood that he’d carved into a small human figure. “The day has come, but this is none of your business now. They only prepare the way.”

  “The way for what?”

  He lifted his eyes. “For you, my dear. If you are willing.”

  My stomach dropped. For me? The war was on my account?

  With that one thought, the urgency of my predicament as the 49th became palpable. My quest for the seals had been fogged in all my stewing. And I still had only three seals!

  I looked at Talya, who was watching me with gentle eyes. The bitterness I’d felt over the last two days was gone. He was my guide, not my enemy. Vlad was my enemy.

  I was my enemy.

  I crossed my legs under me, facing him. “I am willing,” I said.

  “Yes, my dear, I believe you are. It’s amazing how much goodness can come through the fires of purification. How much beauty through the waters of cleansing.”

  He resumed his whittling.

  “Tell me, if not for all this 49th business, what would your hopes be in this life?”

  It took me a moment to enter that frame of mind.

  “Health,” I said, maybe because I was a Scab.

  “Ahhh, yes. Health. Such a tiny little hope. Bigger, 49th. Give me a bigger hope.”

  “I think health is—”

  “Humor me.”

  “Okay, a husband? Someone to love? Maybe children?”

  “There are plenty to love, and you can love none of them if you don’t love yourself, but okay. A companion. Maybe Jacob, yes? And some little innocent ones to love you as you are?”

  The thought of being with Jacob made my heart beat faster.

  “Maybe.”

  “Oh, to be loved by another. Such a small dream, 49th. Far, far too small. Another.”

  He continued carving the little figure.

  “Enough things to be comfortable,” I said, trying to be true to his question.

  “Yes, things. Just enough, maybe a cow, a little plot of land?”

  “Something like that.”

  “A simple life free of problems. Marriage and a cow and a garden to tend to with your little ones, like in Yeshua’s story of the banquet?”

  I hesitated, thinking he was goading me.

  “Yes.”

  He threw the carving at his feet and abruptly stood. “Now you’ve done it!” he shouted, flinging his arms wide. “Now you’ve exposed the only problem all of mankind faces, ever! All there in your three tiny, insane little answers.”

  Heat flushed my face, but I was too shocked by the sudden change in him to react.

  “Too small, 49th! You think way too small!” He threw his words out for any living creature to hear, pacing now.

  “Why are you being so angry with me?” I blurted. “I’m trying my best!”

  “But I’m not angry with you. I’m showing you wrath! Wrath shows you the gritty taste of the clay pie you’re addicted to so you might consider the banquet instead!” He jabbed a trembling finger at his face. “This, 49th, is the wrath of Elyon, lovingly nudging you, like a tender mother taking a knife from a child even when that child screams in disappointment.”

  He threw his arms wide again, eyes bright with eagerness.

  “Do you think true life is about reputation and fashion and marrying and children and all those wonderful blessings of God that all Albino and Horde crave? You think too small.”

  “But I wouldn’t say I crave those things,” I managed.

  “Oh, but you do, 49th. All humans have many addictions to this life! Do you know why?”

  I stared at him, at a loss.

  “Because you don’t see who you are without them. You desire a new body because you don’t see that you are beautiful. You crave the love of another because you don’t know yourself as love. You crave power because you don’t know the power you already have. You seek the seals because you don’t know you already have them!”

  I blinked, stunned by his claim. Then jerked up the sleeve of my tunic. Three seals set in my scabbed skin.

  “Not there,” Talya said. He pressed his hand against his heart. “The treasure is here, where the seals have always been, covered up by”—he wiggled his finger at my body—“that beautiful clay costume you wear. The seals are like a treasure in a field that you own, only waiting to be exposed.”

  In a single bound he was at the fire, snatching up the carving he’d thrown down. “Do you know what this is made of?”

  “Wood.”

  “Smaller.”

  “Molecules.”

  “Smaller!”

  “Atoms!” I shouted back.

  “Smaller, 49th. Much smaller.”

  I knew because my father had been a scientist in Eden, Utah.

  “Energy that’s collapsed into what we perceive to be solid.”

  “And if you apply heat? If you add a little wrath?”

  “It burns,” I said.

  He tossed the small carving of the wood-man into the fire. “It shifts form and becomes a hot gas that we see as flame,” he said as the fire consumed the little figure. “Has anything been lost?”

  “No. It’s just changed form.”

  “So the fruit became the seed that became the tree that became the wood that became the carving that now becomes the flame. Which is it? Fruit, seed, tree, wood, carving, or flame?”

  “It depends on when.”

  He straightened. “But you know as well as I do, don’t you, 49th? It’s none of those things. They’re only various expressions of the energy that it is. They are temporal forms, as written. Earthen vessel, yes? Here one day, changed the next. All expressions of the same unchanging thing, only changing form.”1

  I nodded. By now my heart was beginning to pound because I saw where he was going and I liked it.

  “Now let’s say that unchanging thing is called atom. If you were to take the atom rising from the fruit that became seed, that became tree, that became wood, that became carving, that became heated gas, which we now see as flame”—he drew his finger through the fire—“and split that atom . . .” His eyes snapped up to me. “What would you see?”

  I knew it! I stood, inflamed with excitement.

  “A nuclear detonation,” I breathed.

  “A sun!” He grinned, eyes flashing. “A sun.” He stepped around the fire and put his hand on my shoulder. “You are like that sun. The light of the world. Experiencing yourself as the light is the celebration the Father calls you to. You flow with more power than most give themselves permission to imagine, much less believe. If you set your hopes on the fruit and wood of this life, you will only experience fruit and wood in this life, faced with the problems of worms and rot. If you set your hopes on the sun, you will experience the light. And how bright is that light.”

  “As bright as the sun.”

  “All form is beautiful in its time, but eternity is also written in your heart.2 In the eternal light, there is no threat. No danger. No darkness. No fear. Only love, which knows no darkness.”

  “No blindness!”

  “None! The wo
od-man doesn’t subject himself to the altar of fire because he’s evil, but to experience the power of his glorified self, one with the light.”

  “The power of the light. In the world of form and earthen vessel but not of it.”3

  He whirled back, excited like a child.

  “Can you imagine what that would be like, wood-man Rachelle? Can you imagine what it would be like to discover the power of your true identity, one with the Creator of the universe? You would love every aspect of this temporal life, knowing that none of it defines you! You would dance and sing and shout for joy!”

  Tears filled my eyes.

  “The atom that contains the sun doesn’t care if it’s in a wooden carving, or if that wooden figure is purified and made a hot gas in the fire. It doesn’t dictate what should be. It knows it’s an aspect of the sun, not a tree or earthen vessel or Albino or Horde or man or woman or 49th or Mystic. You are the light of world, only briefly in this form.”

  Like a sweet refrain, the knowing of truth filled me. How could I have lost my grasp of something so obvious?

  “Ahhh. You want to know how one goes about remaining in that truth flowing with so much power, is that it? You want to know how one maintains her experience of her identity as that staggering light while still in an earthen vessel, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, there’s only one way, 49th. Didn’t you hear Soromi and Maya explain Yeshua’s teaching yesterday?”

  Their simple words crashed in on me and I began to pace. “By letting go of my attachment to the world.”

  “All of it!” he cried, thrusting both arms wide. “The earthen vessel has only one true power, and that is to align. It aligns to the system called love or to the polarity of judgment. All of us do this in every moment. What you believe manifests as your experience in this life. All of this is written. For the sake of all, tell me you finally know this, 49th!”

  It seemed so obvious. He was describing the basis for all of human life, like a divine alchemist giving me the formula for how all things worked.

  I nodded.

  “And yet in blindness to the great light you are, you continue to bind yourself to the polarity of the wood-man. To the earthen vessel and all of its special judgments of this versus that. Better to be a wooden carving than a fire. Better to be Albino than Horde. Better to be married than unmarried, fat than skinny, skinny than fat, tall than short. And so it goes, the curse of the knowledge of good and evil, which masters all since the Fall.”

  I stared out over the blue lake.

  He swept his hand toward the horizon. “The kingdom of heaven is here already, as Yeshua said. Everywhere! You just aren’t aligned to it, so you can’t see it. It’s time to real-ize it. To make it real in your experience. Surrender your old sight and see with newborn eyes. This is the forgotten way.”

  “How?” I asked, suddenly desperate. “How do I follow that way?”

  “Align your sight to the light you already are.4 To the you who is complete and glorified. Do this and all your small attachments will fall away. Lift your eyes—change your perception!”

  I felt panicky because that still didn’t seem to help. It was an endless circle. Surrender to see; see to surrender.

  “But how, Talya?” I cried, shaking now. “Show me how to surrender!”

  Without warning, Talya clapped his hands with tremendous force. I ducked instinctively. As if someone had pulled the plug on the sun, the world darkened. The sky changed from blue to charcoal gray, billowing with angry clouds. Strong gusts of air buffeted Talya, who stood still.

  “You want me to show you how?”

  A long, jagged finger of lightning crackled over the sea. I had no idea what was happening, but I was desperate.

  “Yes.”

  He eyed me for a moment, standing with his back to the water. “Begin by not judging yourself for not knowing how,” he said, voice now low. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes!” I wanted to run for cover because the wind was now whipping my hair around my face.

  “Do you trust me, Rachelle?”

  “Yes! I trust you!”

  “Do you trust the light?” He seemed to be daring me.

  “Yes. I said yes!”

  “Do you trust you, 49th?”

  “I . . .” A stick flew by my head, whipped by the wind. We were exposed and in a storm that was growing ferocious. A storm Talya had somehow brought upon us.

  Talya repeated his demand, yelling now. “Do you trust you, 49th?”

  I was the light. Did I trust myself? Which self? “I don’t know, but what’s happening?”

  “You are happening, daughter of Elyon!” he boomed. He spun and ran for the boat. “Hurry, into the boat!”

  I stood frozen, terrified by the idea of getting into a boat on waters now tossing and turning with foam.

  “Hurry, 49th. If you don’t trust you, then trust in me. We voyage into the shadow of death!”

  I stumbled forward, heart crashing with the thunder rolling above us. He was in the water, tugging free the rope that tied off the boat, waving me forward. He had the look of a crazed old man with long, white, windblown hair, eyes blazing with madness.

  “Hurry, 49th! Thomas awaits!”

  Thomas? We were going to see Thomas Hunter?

  I splashed into the water, grabbed the side of the wooden boat, and rolled in. It was maybe twenty feet long with one sail and five planks for seating. My heel smashed against one of the wooden planks, but I hardly noticed the pain.

  Then Talya was in, up by the mast, tugging to unfurl the sail as the wind swept us from the shore.

  “Don’t put the sail up!” I was yelling at Talya, but more than half my mind was on trying to secure myself in the boat, which was rocking on rising waves. I grabbed onto the same seat that I’d smashed into and hung on for dear life in the bottom of that boat.

  Talya felt no such compulsion. The sail was already up, and he stood with one foot on the most forward plank and the other up on the bow, facing the wind with one raised fist as if he were a conqueror and this yet one more sea to cross.

  “Do you feel the pain, 49th?” he cried. “The pain in your bloodied heel, do you feel it?”

  I didn’t have the presence of mind to answer. Small as it was, the unfurled sail bowed and hummed with the wind, hurtling us forward at breakneck speed. A wave picked us up and slammed us back down.

  “Talya!”

  “No, you don’t feel it, do you? You don’t perceive it. It’s not a problem for you. You couldn’t care less about the pain in your heel, 49th. All of your attention is on something else, isn’t it?”

  I twisted my head and looked back at the shore. To my horror, I saw that there was no shore! No horses, no fire, no land.

  A small suggestion hidden deep in my mind told me that I was safe, because I was with Talya and Talya could walk on water, but I could barely hear it over the fear thundering through me.

  And then I couldn’t hear it at all.

  “Do you feel the fear of being Scab, 49th?” Talya cried. “Is being Horde a problem for you now?”

  “No!” I screamed, only to appease him. “Just stop this! Please . . .” The words froze in my throat as the boat lurched to the left, nearly tearing my hands from the bench.

  “Hold on! Hold on to the means of your salvation, daughter of Elyon. Don’t let go of the boat. Don’t you dare!”

  Water washed over the sides, drenching me from head to foot.

  “Are you afraid, 49th?”

  I gulped at the air, shaking the water from my face. “Yes!”

  Talya had released his hold on the sail and now faced the storm with both hands spread wide, and for the moment I was sure he’d lost his mind completely. Even though he was a water walker, I had none of his powers. I could easily be washed overboard.

  “Feel the Father’s wrath!” he screamed into the wind, grinning wildly. “Feel the wrath that lovingly nudges the lost sheep back onto the path of peace! Smile with th
e Father as he smiles down upon you, 49th!”

  He spun back, eyes wild.

  “Are you afraid? Are you afraid of the water that can swallow you up? Are you clinging to your boat, hoping that it will save you from the storm?”

  “Stop it!” I cried. “Just stop it!”

  The boat shuddered as it crashed down into a trough. Another huge wave washed over the side, filling half the boat.

  “Talya!” I screamed.

  “Do you care if you’re Scab now? Does your heel hurt you now? Do you miss Jacob now? Do you see these as problems for you now, 49th?”

  “No!” I cared about none of those things in that moment. All I cared about was being saved from the monster of that storm.

  Lightning brightened his face, revealing a daring grin. “If you can so easily let go of those small problems with just a little shift in attention, just imagine how you would feel if you followed Yeshua’s teaching to let go of your whole life. Put all of your attention on the incomprehensible power of love that invites your surrender to it.”

  Talya said the words gently, but they hit me like a hammer. It was true, I had let go of the pain in my foot, focused on something greater. I wasn’t judging myself as Horde. I wasn’t fixated on the specialness of Jacob.

  That was my earthen vessel playing god, telling me what I should and should not need. I was a slave to that voice, that master, that fear.

  “Stand up, dear daughter,” Talya said. “Stand with me. Take your eyes off the storms of polarity. Lean into the shadow of fear. Do not resist the evil one who comes against you! Stand in the face of the accuser’s pitiful arrows and see with new eyes as the daughter of Elyon!”

  His rapture caught fire in my own chest, and I lurched forward on my knees. Desperate, I hooked my arm around the mast and pulled myself up as best I could. The boat rocked to the left and I grabbed Talya’s belt to steady myself.

  Talya was steady, gripping only thin air. I wondered if he even felt the storm.

  He grabbed my hand and jerked it up so that I was now standing with one arm raised, the other on the mast. Water sprayed in my face and I gasped.

  “Why are you afraid, 49th?”

  “The storm,” I said, but I was already starting to let go of it.

  “Oh you of little faith. Is that what you see? A threatening storm?”