The Adam Enigma (29 page)

April 10, 2016
Grinnell, Iowa

R
amsey leaned against the wall, surveying the room. Twenty-three people huddled in small groups chatting quietly. Except for two elderly Pakistani men, everyone was white. Most were over forty. He was the youngest person there.

The Sullivan-designed Jewel Box Bank building had its last official financial transaction on May 17, 1999. Since then, it had become Grinnell's visitor center and home of the Chamber of Commerce. Tonight, the building hosted Grinnell's New Gnostic assembly. It was a curious group that had gathered. Gnostics were generally categorized as men and women who quested after a spiritual connection with God. Yet the faces in the room held no such indication of the spiritual journey. At first glance it could have been a meeting of the Elks or the Freemasons.

The room hummed with a whispered energy, so low it was serene. Ramsey felt as if he had wandered into a clandestine meeting of somnambulists. No one acknowledged him when he walked in, offered him a name tag, a cup of coffee, or anything that even hinted at a welcome. He was beginning to wonder if Orensen had given him the wrong time and place, when a woman with blue-streaked, gray hair separated herself from a small group that included the Pakistanis and walked to the front of the room.

She raised her arms and shouted joyously, “I feel it!” Everybody turned their attention towards her and closed their eyes. A look of
rapture filled their faces. Her voice carrying the melodic rhythm of a gospel singer, she continued, “May the power of the shrine pour through all of us once again. May the love we all felt at the shrine fill the lives of all who seek to aid a greater purpose. May I fulfill my part in the one work through selflessness, harmlessness, and right speech.”

Everyone lifted up their arms and joined in as she finished the prayer: “Let love prevail . . . let all humanity love and serve.”

Ramsey stood silently. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable. After all, he was not a New Gnostic and had never personally experienced a healing at the shrine, just aberrations and illusions.

The woman dropped her arms after the incantation ended and walked to the center of the room. Her eyes met Ramsey's and she came over. Her eyes were green with flecks of coral in them. “You're new here. Welcome.” she smiled, extending her hand. She was nearly sixty according to the lines around her eyes, but her skin was soft like a baby's. “My name is Evelyn
Ha-Rishon
.”

Ramsey's eyes widened in surprise. “The
first
Eve.”

“You speak Hebrew?” she said, surprised.

“Some. I had to learn a little for my graduate thesis on sacred places.”

“Fascinating. I'd love to hear more about that,” she said, her tone warm and inviting in a way Ramsey could tell was not in the least bit deceitful. “You'll discover that many of us here have incorporated the Hebrew word
Ha-Rishon
into our names from the biblical account of Adam in
The First Testament
.”

“I don't understand. I was under the impression that Gnosticism was a Christian tradition.”

Evelyn smiled at his confusion. “Most people don't know that the Gnostic tradition preceded Christianity. It can be found in Platonism, Zoroastrianism, Judaism, and some scholars believe Buddhism. I'm forgetting my manners. Let me introduce you around, Mr.—.”

“Ramsey. I'm a guest of Professor Orensen.”

“Of course, you're Jonathan Ramsey. I thought it might be you. Roger told us you would be here.”

The way Evelyn said the old professor's name, Ramsey wondered if there was more to their relationship than as acquaintances. “I was hoping to see Professor Orensen here tonight,” he said.

“Roger's going to be late, but he said you had information we might need to hear about Adam.”

“I don't see how. Never met him.”

“Pity, he was quite remarkable. Things here haven't been the same since he disappeared,” her eyes narrowed slightly as if coming to a decision whether this was the time and place to speak of such things. She smiled wanly. Her face was luminous and Ramsey had the feeling he could fall into the depth of that smile and never surface again. It reminded him of Paige when they were in love, and he wondered what had really gone wrong between them. Then Evelyn started speaking again and he concentrated on her like he would an interviewee.

“Quite frankly, before Adam disappeared, the Gnostic assemblies like ours were quite vibrant. We thought we were going to change the world. Now we seem to be falling apart. The harmony we once shared is disappearing. It's been very discouraging.”

Ramsey shrugged uncomfortably. It was like listening to a writer tell you everything that's wrong with his novel when you were looking forward to reading it.

Evelyn misinterpreted his silence to mean he had heard this complaint already. She asked, “Did Orensen tell you all this? He said you know more about what happened to Adam than anybody else.”

Ramsey replied, “Actually, the professor told me nothing except that I would have many of my questions answered by coming here.”

“In that case, when we form into breakout groups, come sit with me.” The sounds of chair legs scraping the linoleum turned her head around. “We're about to begin. Take any empty seat.”

Ramsey chose a seat at the end of the last row. Evelyn moved to the front of the room. She waited for the chairs and people to settle. “To begin, as we always do, let's acknowledge new members and visitors. Tonight we have one of each.”

Ramsey listened as an elderly lady stood and explained that she and her newly retired husband had just moved from Chicago to Grinnell. They managed a web app that paired up aikido instructors with
students. Then she told the story of visiting the shrine for eighteen days straight and how, on the nineteen day, the ringing in her head that had plagued her for over twenty years stopped and has never come back. When she sat down, the group mildly intoned, “Amen.”

Evelyn thanked her and then introduced a visitor from Wales. “He calls himself the Wandering Gnostic. I'll let him tell you all about himself.”

From the far corner of the room a middle-aged man rose. Long silver hair flowed down his back. As he walked toward the front, his hair wavered like starlight. His form seemed to shift from stocky to tall and rangy. Ramsey watched the New Gnostics but none of them appeared to notice anything out of the ordinary. He shook his head wondering if the dim light was playing tricks on him.

The man turned abruptly. He peered through the hall, slate-gray eyes piercing the sleepy energy of the attendees. His sharp beak of a nose seemed to point at everyone as powerfully as his glare.

Ramsey started in surprise. He'd seen that look before, had experienced the same fierce mien. He bent his mind to recall, but could not quite lift the veil that was hiding the where and when.

“I bet many of you are having a sense of ‘I know this guy from somewhere,'” the visitor said. Stirs and nods followed. “Maybe you think we've met, passed each other on a crowded street or shared a plane to some exotic place. All my life I have been attracted, no addicted, to hallucinogens. I lived as much in the other side, probably more, than the real world. I was at the point where I couldn't tell the difference. I had a vision of the Milagro Shrine and went there, and as they say, the rest is history.” He paused.

His audience listened with the same expectancy of the crowd at the Vatican waiting for the Pope to give his blessing. Ramsey found himself like the others leaning forward, wanting to hear more. In fact he felt compelled to meet the man and hoped there would be time afterwards to speak with him.

“And here I am. Wherever my travels take me I always try to visit the local New Gnostic assembly.” He paused. Murmurs of thank you and mild applause filled the gap.

“Why are you applauding?” the Wandering Gnostic roared.

The group snapped back in their seats as if a howling gale had slammed into them. From the puzzled expressions on their faces, Ramsey figured this wasn't how visitors usually comported themselves. Curiously, he felt unaffected, as though he were here to witness what was happening but not be a part of it.

“What have any of you done with your God-given experience since you joined? You sit here smiling like inhabitants in the Land of the Lotus-eaters. You chant amen in sappy tones, eyes half closed, unable to see what is happening.”

One of the Pakistani men jumped to his feet. “Who are you to tell us we are failing?” Others muttered amen.

“I am
Adam Ha-Rishon
,” the Wandering Gnostic stated in a voice like God speaking to Moses in the wilderness. The Pakistani stumbled back into his seat as though he'd been slapped.

Ramsey translated the Hebrew:
the original Adam
. The earlier serenity in the room had long since vanished and now the anxiety was mounting with every passing heartbeat.

“You people don't get it!” the Wandering Gnostic shouted. “You must understand that this is the way it has to be, and always has been. Stop trying to create harmony, peace, and tranquility. You experienced a gift from Adam and now you're closing the door he opened for you, the door that took you across the boundary to the other side, a crossing that you must take again and again. Be like Adam, be like Moses, Jesus, the Buddha, Mohammed. Understand that it's never quite right, never completely safe. You are never complete. It's from conflict that all new and good things come. Accept it, only then can you create a sacred space right here.”

The Gnostics sat stunned. Ramsey watched them. They could not take their eyes from the Wandering Gnostic, could not stop listening for his next words. It was as if he held their souls in the palm of his hand. Some of the veil started to shift and Ramsey could almost snatch out of the misty shadows how he knew this strange madman who berated everyone in the room.

Then the Wandering Gnostic rushed over and hauled Ramsey to his feet. He thrust Ramsey at the group and cried, “Follow him into the world of uncertainty!”

It was then that the last of the veil parted and the mists swirled away as if a strong gust of the past had rushed into Ramsey's consciousness. “I know you!” he shouted. “You're Puck . . . the woman who helped me at the shrine!”

The man cackled and leaned in close. He gripped Ramsey by the forearms. His eyes burned into Ramsey's as he whispered, “Yes, and I am the archetype of transformation, Hermes, Loki and Coyote. I am the one who started you on this journey twelve years ago.” He cackled again.

Ramsey stiffened. “Glastonbury,” he whispered. It all came back to him. He was Loki, the decrepit, one-eyed man who had told him a guide would be provided for him to find his way. Ramsey's body relaxed in the grasp of the Wandering Gnostic and yet an insistent vitality flooded his muscles and his brain was sharper than ever.

The man pushed Ramsey gently back into his seat. He laughed at the group and pirouetted several times, like a dervish gathering strength. When he stopped, heat and light radiated from his skin. “This man is a little crazy, but he knows more about Adam and the healing power of the shrine than he believes.”

Dancing and twirling, the Wandering Gnostic started for the door. Orensen entered the room at the same time. The man gently embraced the professor. He whispered in his ear. Ramsey strained and could just make out the feathery voice. “It's time; you've done what you were supposed to do.”

“I'm ready,” answered Orensen.

The old professor slumped forward. The Wandering Gnostic caught him and laid him gently on the floor.

He bowed to the group. “Honor him,” he intoned, then vanished into the night.

April 11, 2016
Grinnell, Iowa

R
amsey sat on the edge of the bed. He looked over at Paige who was still sleeping. The late afternoon sun filtered through the latticed window. He was confused and his head swirled with thoughts and regrets of ending up in bed with Paige.

Since the night she broke off their relationship, he had experienced five long-distance romances, all of them lasting less than three months. His moodiness had destroyed every romantic encounter he started. Then, four years ago, he had decided that the effort to make an honest and growing commitment to a partner was no longer possible. He believed his experience in Peru had left him permanently unable to develop the intimacy necessary to be close to another person as a lover, friend, and husband. He had decided his work had to be enough. When his body and mind craved sexual release, he sought out one-night stands.

Then this afternoon had happened. He found himself in Paige's arms as though twelve years had never passed between them.

He stared at her, his thoughts jumbling between happiness, wariness, and confusion.
How's that possible? She abandoned me when I needed her the most
.

Watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her breast, seeing the half-smile on her full lips, the answer burst into his mind in a way that he
could only describe as an important shift in consciousness. If anyone could understand him it would be Paige. In that moment, the knot of anger deep within that he had harbored all these years burst out of him like a geyser spewing scalding steam and water. When it was all spent, he saw Paige for the first time for who she was then and now—an imperfect person like himself. For the first time in his life Ramsey was okay with his own imperfection.

“Professor Orensen wanted me to tell you why he did not confide in you,” Paige said, opening one eye. She wrapped an arm and a leg over him and snuggled close so her lips were inches from his left ear. “Professor Orensen brought me to Grinnell because he knew the end was near and he wanted to find a replacement for his position before he passed. He specifically asked me not to mention his deteriorating heart condition to you because he knew you would take control of his medical treatment and more importantly press him for answers regarding Adam. Answers that he wanted to take to the grave.”

Ramsey lay quietly beside Paige, present to everything she said. Only moments before he would have had tremendous resentment that Orensen would tell Paige and not him about his condition. That was gone too. What he felt for her and his old friend and mentor was only love. It brought tears to his eyes and then he began crying softly.

Paige cradled Ramsey in her arms and rocked slowly. What he received from her was genuine, pure, unconditional acceptance and love.

Still immersed totally in his new state, Ramsey set about making dinner. The fragrant aroma of Earl Grey tea mingled with grilled vegetables and chicken. Sounds of the bedroom's shower tickled at his consciousness, reminding him that he wasn't alone. Mindlessly he checked the email on his phone. What he was waiting for was there. A local reporter friend sent him a note that the police were unable to locate the Wandering Gnostic. Descriptions from the people in attendance at the New Gnostic assembly were vague, confused, and contradictory. Ramsey smiled. He had not expected Loki to hang around. In a moment of pure knowing he understood the man was real but not
of
this world. He was the unexpected and disruptive intrusion
of the divine into the flow of ordinary life. He had let Ramsey see the divine in its many disguises. For what reason he was unsure. There was something else, but he didn't know what.

Moments later the fragrant aroma of the Earl Grey tea filled his nostrils once again, making his mouth water. Paige called out to him, “Are you still here? You promised me tea almost forty-five minutes ago.”

Forty-five minutes!
Ramsey blinked and he knew with a slight pang of regret that he was once more in what philosophers and psychologists refer to as the narrative self–—telling stories about himself from the past and the present and making plans for the future. He recalled he had a eulogy to prepare.