Astonishing the Gods (8 page)

‘Of course you can't. Things only disappear, only become lost, because you've stopped thinking about them, stopped living with them in some vital way. Things and people have to be planted in you, have to grow in you, and you have to keep them alive. If you forget to keep them alive, you lose them. Many people have walked out of life because they stopped seeing it. Many have fallen into the abyss because they were looking for solid ground, for certainties. Happy are those who are still, and to whom things come. Answers are like that. They go to those who expect them. So, if you want to find something find it first.'

‘How?'

‘Find it in yourself, I suppose.'

‘You talk in riddles.'

‘The simplest things are riddles and paradoxes. Have you heard about people looking for love?'

‘Yes.'

‘They never find love, do they?'

‘I don't know.'

‘They never find the love they are looking for.'

‘I'm not so sure.'

‘Those who find love find it in themselves.'

‘I suppose so.'

‘It is so. I should know.'

‘Why?'

‘Because I looked for and never found love. I found something else.'

‘What?'

‘Something that looked like love, but wasn't. Others I know never looked and they found. They found it in abundance. For them it was always there. Love was always alive in them. It was always there.'

‘Where?'

‘Everywhere. They merely invited it, and it came. They merely were, and it was attracted. Love goes to where love is. And where love is, love is never lost. Lucky are those who know how to find, for they will never lose things.'

There was a short pause during which he studied the dwarf-like figure, trying to clarify its strangely shifting form. The figure, short and enigmatic and still, began to move away.

‘Don't go,' he said.

‘I have to,' the figure replied.

‘I am alone here. I don't understand anything. This place is new to me, its ways are odd, and I have no one to talk to. My bed is over there. I have some water, some grapes, and would gladly share them with you.'

‘I have no need of water or grapes,' said the figure, ‘but I'll keep you company for a while. I must be back at the loggia at an appointed time.'

They went towards the bed. The dwarf-like figure brought its darkness with it, and even under the moonlight remained obscure. The figure had a heavy tread, as if it were made not of flesh but of adamant, or ancient marble.

He sat on the bed, poured himself some water, and drank from the diamond glass. The large-headed figure remained standing. It stood in its own darkness. After a while, the figure spoke.

‘Why are you here?'

‘I left my home seeking to be visible.'

‘You came to the wrong place. Here things are invisible. The real things can't be seen.'

‘But I feel at peace here.'

‘You won't for long.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because what you are seeking isn't here. There are many lands beyond, where people know true peace. They know contentment. They never seek, never search. They have all that they want. They are visible, and their lands ring with happiness. That's what you want.'

‘That sounds like here.'

‘Not here. You should follow your seeking to the end.'

‘But you said if I look I'll never find.'

‘That's true of everything except what I just told you.'

‘You contradict yourself.'

‘No I don't. You seek visibility. Here, things are invisible. You are therefore in the wrong place. Quite simple.'

‘I feel in the right place though.'

‘Then you are not seeking to be visible, you are not seeking visibility.'

‘I was.'

‘You still are. Your trouble is that you don't know this place. This is a rigorous land. Everyone lives without illusions. It is exhausting. One can't live in perfection the whole time. Purity, after a while, is boring. Too much invisibility can mean you stop existing. Even the wind wants to be visible. To be invisible is like living with your own death all the time. Who wants to be always dead. To be visible is to live with your life, your mortality. It is to be alive, to see and be seen. You're in the wrong place. It won't be long before you go completely mad.'

‘Mad?'

‘Yes. You'd go mad. You'd start seeing things. Invisible things. You'd see them in mirrors. You'd see them in the air. A cart would rush past with no one pushing it. Horses would disappear. The wind would become a woman. You'd start to talk to people who aren't there. You'd start to hear voices. Mad, yes, quite mad. Then, worst of all, you'd start looking for things and end up looking for yourself. In the end you'd scream for visibility and you'd flee this island, crying out for places where people have names and where you can participate in some useful struggle and where there are a thousand useful and beautiful illusions.'

‘So what should I do?'

‘Quite simple, really. Leave now. Don't delay. The longer you remain, the more invisible you will become. Leave. Depart. Go to better places, where visibility is bliss.'

‘What do I do?'

‘Easy. Simple. All you have to do is go now and knock on the palace door. Knock, it will be opened. Then tell them you want to leave. Or you can merely start to scream your desire to be visible now. Then they will come and take you away. Very simple.'

‘But what if I like it here?'

‘Believe me, you wouldn't like it here for long. Soon the excessive beauty would make you miserable. It would become like hell, an inferno of perfections. Imagine it: a hell made out of beauty. Can you think of anything more stultifying, more suffocating, than a nightmare composed entirely of beautiful things, of flowers, and pure lights, and mirrors? And the worst would be that you would become trapped here, like me, forever.'

‘You make it sound chilling.'

‘It is chilling. It is more chilling than I can make it sound. Leave now while you can. Be free of this impossible place, this rigorous land, where everything is guided by the wisdom of suffering, and where the journey towards perfection is continued without any hope of ever arriving. Find joy! Live your life! Make your mistakes! Enjoy life's illusions! Don't become invisible, don't turn to stone. Don't seek impossible loves, find possible ones! Leave now, knock on that palace door, and soon you will find yourself where you belong. Soon you will arrive at the destination you've been seeking since you left your home.'

He thought about what the figure had been saying. For a moment he was convinced. The square was all mist now, receding into the wind. All he could see was the palace door and the dazzling sword of the equestrian rider, pointing towards an eternal destination.

The darkness around the dwarf-like figure had grown massive. The darkness grew as his doubts waned. Then, all of a sudden, the figure moved. Without knowing why, he thought of his first guide. He looked about him. The square became clearer, with the sea-god emerging from the billowing marble waves.

He said:

‘This place has not been unkind to me. I saw my first unicorn today. I even saw an angel. I think I'll have some more water and some grapes. You have been a most interesting companion.'

There was a long silence. The figure, eventually, said:

‘The door is always there.'

‘I won't lose it.'

‘So you prefer to stay?'

‘The grapes will last me all night. The square is peaceful. And I haven't yet enjoyed this bed.'

‘You prefer to betray the deep thing that made you leave your home?'

‘I don't know what I have found.'

‘Then you can't be saved.'

‘Perhaps not. I am touched that you think I am worthy of being saved. Thank you for trying.'

The massive figure watched him silently. Everything was still.

He bent over, and helped himself to some grapes. And when he looked up, the figure was gone.

There was stillness in the darkness of the loggia.

The wind was fragrant.

The square had survived the eclipsing mist. And moonlight made everything shimmer.

‘That's two things I have to learn,' he said to himself. ‘I have to learn how to give life, and I have to learn how to find.'

He was eating of the grapes, breathing deeply of the rose-flavoured wind, when a woman came to him out of the moonlight. He couldn't see her face clearly, but he felt her to be of extreme beauty, full in body, rich in sensuality, but obscure. He didn't know what was obscure about her.

She sat beside him on the bed and her presence affected him deeply. Her body breathed out an unbearable lustful air. So strong was her lust that he began to quiver. Baring her thighs to him casually, she said:

‘I have hungered for a man such as you for many long years. Do you know what it is like when your body and soul crave a particular person whom you have not met, but whom you sense exists, and for whom you have been waiting for hundreds of years? Sensitive lovers know this feeling. We call it: “Sickness for your Orpheus”. That's what I've had. You are my Orpheus. In my dreams I have loved you and wanted you. There has been no other, and there never will be. You are my missing soul. To be in your presence alone is like having entered a fairy-tale. I am a princess again, and you are my missing prince. Under these skies, in this square that has suffered more history than it has known love, and with the wind fragrant with a moment that will never be repeated, I have found you just as I thought I would – on a white bed, in the marble square, with a jug of water, and eating the grapes of the king.'

She moved closer to him as his eyes shut gently under the spell of her words. But more powerful than her words was her desire. It overwhelmed him. It made the blood sing in his ears. Her lust filled the spaces about him and changed the night into something infinitely sensual. He found himself unable to breathe. Her lust had somehow infected him.

Looking at her out of eyes changed by transferred desire, he noticed that she was attired in a soft golden shift. Her legs were graceful and sensuous. Her rich breasts lightly heaved. Her lips were ripe and full, like summer grapes. She was a paradoxical beauty, full-bodied and classical, chaste and wild. The combination was irresistible.

She had moved so close to him that he no longer breathed air. He breathed in her lust, her charged fragrance, and her fiery sensuality. The mystery of her in that square made him think of frenzied journeys driven by the face of a woman who was somehow the meaning of his life. He saw in her that woman. He stayed silent. She began again to speak.

‘Do you not recognise me?'

‘I think I do,' he replied, ‘but it would be strange if I said so.'

‘Fate is strange,' she mused. ‘We plan our lives according to a dream that came to us in our childhood, and we find that life alters our plans. And yet, at the end, from a rare height, we also see that our dream was our fate. It's just that providence had other ideas as to how we would get there. Destiny plans a different route, or turns the dream around, as if it were a riddle, and fulfills the dream in ways we couldn't have expected. How far back is our childhood? Twenty years? Thirty? Fifty? Or ten? I think our childhood goes back thousands of years, farther back than the memory of any race. When we yearn, our yearning comes through from deep below. It comes from a deep remembering, from the forgotten dreams of our mingled ancestry. You are my yearning. And this is the night, long ago, when our stars first met. They are together now, in the heavens, shedding a beautiful radiance on this night. They are weaving enchantments for us so that we may step through the invisible mirror in the air and enter the fairy-tale we are meant to live, but which we forgot.'

The extraordinary lady paused, then continued:

‘Are you comfortable? Are you all right? Is the wind too cold for you? Should I go and fetch you some more fruits? I love your silence. It is so wise. It listens. It invites warmth. I love your loneliness. It is brave. It makes the universe want to protect you. You have the loneliness that all true heroes have, a loneliness that is a deep sea, within which the fishes of mystery dwell. I love your quest. It is noble. It has greatness in it. Only one who is born under a blessed star would set sail across the billowing waves and the wild squalls, because of a dream. I love your dream. It is magical. Only those who truly love and who are truly strong can sustain their lives as a dream. You dwell in your own enchantment. Life throws stones at you, but your love and your dream change those stones into the flowers of discovery. Even if you lose, or are defeated by things, your triumph will always be exemplary. And if no one knows it, then there are places that do. People like you enrich the dreams of the world, and it is dreams that create history. People like you are unknowing transformers of things, protected by your own fairy-tale, by love. If it weren't for this overpowering love of mine, I would praise you better.'

Suddenly, she began weeping. She wept in silence, without moving. He watched her with the moon in his heart.

When she stopped, he started to speak, but she signalled him to be silent.

‘My love for you makes me so unhappy,' she said, gently. ‘All these years of yearning have filled me with an unhappy wisdom. May I lie down beside you?'

‘Yes,' he replied, without knowing why.

She lay down beside him and her lust spread a curious darkness over the bed. He seemed to be afloat in her desire. He seemed to levitate in her passion. He surrendered his senses to her power. Gently, she made him lie down. Then she whispered these words into his ear:

‘I am the mystery that will unlock your life.'

Her words made him drowsy. He shut his eyes. When he opened them again he found her naked beside him.