"Thinking without action images visions which die stillborn. Dreamers and visionaries who do not act to give form to their dreams and visions do not express power. ... All the power that man has is in his knowing. And all of it is expressed only by his thinking. However, work must be performed in order to express power. But the power that we express is not in the body. The power that we express is in the still fulcrum of God centering every man ― the Light which centers everyone and every creating thing. In that still fulcrum of rest is all the power. The action which extends from it is the expression of power, what we call Creation."
― W.Russell, The Secret of Light
Abandoned in a chaotic wood with a heart locked in hardness, Rick sneaked through trees and bushes, seeking for his heart’s content. As he pushed through, the branches cried out in pain as he broke them. Then he was in the light, as he came upon an open spot surrounded by red mushrooms with white dots. The spot appeared to be occupied by a strange gathering of white fairies and black devils. His eyes searched their fantasy features for an open mouth or a smile gladly given. As he came closer, Rick saw the fairies dancing and the devils swinging with malice, on a melody that to Rick sounded disharmonious. The woods around the scene were alive and swayed along with whirling leaves. Rick noticed the air heavy with moisture and he saw growing clouds that seemed to drown the air with an unnatural smoothness.
Putting his focus on the fairies, he scanned their faces for any happy emotion. They were too hurried to enjoy their dance he saw, and Rick looked at them as a whole, appreciating their harmony. Lightness and joy entered his heart as his eyes witnessed the fairies dancing, delicately between the rustling leaves, their wings transparent and touching softly at passing one another. There was a certain attraction, pulling him towards this erotic dance, luring him into sin. And then with a sudden dread Rick felt his eyes drawn to the devils, which aimlessly and without care, stampeded through bush and pool breaking branches and splashing water with their moshing. Rick looked closer at the devils and faintly saw they wore animal faces. He could make out the spotted head of a leopard, the rich manes of a lion and with a fright to his heart Rick recognised a wolfish grin.
Noise. Rick could distinguish it aside the rain which had started to fall down; there was also a soft ringing. Where would this all lead to? Anguished, Rick could do nothing but watch as the sound captivated the fairies with resonance and slowly wetted their wings. The raindrops fell around the devils and instead of falling at their feet the heaven water stopped just before it hit the ground, clustering along the violent dance of the devils. Now Rick could see a dark sun glistening on their skins. Their hooves splashed the water up and there was a force that held the gathering water. Rick’s feet were nailed to the ground by this scene: he could not move them, captured by an unknown force. The dance of aggression whirled as it accelerated in movement and in between the cluster of water, leaves and splintered branches, Rick saw dark and light faces. He tried to move his feet, and break the seal of standstill, but his legs refused to obey him, confounding him securely. The enthralling sound further distorted the elves and their wings got heavy with moist and when one fell out of step, the fairy got trampled by dark forms engulfed in shapes of water. Another fairy tumbled to the ground and was crushed aside by violent movement. One by one the fairies started to fall. Rick wanted to escape the scene, leave them to their folly! The water rose to the noise that had moved from the background to full out offensive banging. All of a sudden a devil stopped in front of Rick and looked at him sharply with beady black eyes. It disrupted the dance. As the noise arose even higher, the devil moved its lipless mouth and without sound Rick knew it was calling him by name. With a fright Rick wondered what sense there was in bringing that awful sound into the once balanced scene. Did he bring it? Just by being there?
Slowly opening his eyes, Rick could still hear the ringing. It was the house telephone. That was not good he thought to himself, as the buzzing of his alarm clock should have awoken him. Franticly Rick jumped out of bed. He landed on a weak limb that gave out the moment he pressed his weight on it, leaving him crashing down. He fell with his arms hitting the table opposite of his bed, which tumbled over, and as Rick slammed the ground the table contents hit him square in the chest and stomach. He lay there numb for a few seconds, experiencing pain and sleep fighting for his body, when he noticed the ringing again. His left leg was still dead with sleep. His stomach hurt. Rick tried to get up. Angrily he joggled his senseless leg. Rick stumbled down the stairs, accusing his bloody lazy leg. It was rebellious! Sabotage! And at this moment he started to notice the bad hangover that he had to deal with today. Oh his freaking head… Rick just managed to pick up the phone before it stopped ringing.
‘Hi this is Rick.’ He said, almost awake by now.
‘It’s Goldie here. You are a bit late today I’d say.’ It was his Swedish manager calling from work. And she was dead right.
Univocal his watch and the clock stood at a quarter past nine. After a quick shower and a scavenge through the kitchen Rick left the house in a hurry. He strolled to the bus stop after he tried running, his alcohol racked body allowing for little exercise this morning. A final last sprint could not cope with an unusual bus driver who set his mind to be on time and Rick spend the next fifteen minutes waiting for the next bus and smoking his last cigarette. The painful experience of waking up didn’t affect his mood as much as the strange dream. It made no sense, and didn’t seem to relate to any dream-explanation he could manage to remember now. Elves and devils… Well of the latter he had enough at work. The lure of money. If that was the most likely comparison, what did the elves mean? Rick wasn’t fond of mystery, or for sugar dolls who always tried to fall in line. Ah why even bother? Such petty wonder indeed he agreed to himself and he let it drop from his thoughts as the next bus came and he gave the exact change.
The word leprechaun, the Irish fairy, didn’t come to his mind and wouldn't probably have made any difference. Looking outside a steaming window he saw streaks of a grey old Dublin
‘Zoby! What’s the crack!’ somebody shouted. And not for long he was awakened by further exchange of words, fiery and draughted, the common complaints shared between public commuters alike. Like the white cliffs of Dover
Goldie towered over most office workers as she approached Rick, her blond hair and slim appearance still earning her glances despite her aging face. Rick guessed her around forty but respected her too much as a colleague to ask her. As she came closer Rick saw her constant smile again, one that armed her against the world. Even before Rick could see the stark blackness of her pupils, he felt overcome by her presence, the contrast between the dark fleece jacket and the white blouse she wore only enhancing it further.
‘Ah, Rick, our top German salesman, nice of you to show up! Had a good rest? Hmm?’ She asked and Rick couldn’t make out if she was mocking him or if she really meant it.
He coughed and started: ‘Well, not really, thanks for waking me up…’
‘What, you had a nightmare? You shouldn’t watch scary movies before you go to bed!!!’ Goldie joked and made a sort-of-bogeyman-posture, which must have been a Swedish one.
‘Actually, it was the strangest dream...’ Rick tried again, but Goldie said promptly: ‘You got my note? I’d like to see the Value Proposition covered by tomorrow, so the sales guys can start using it in their calls. They start on that Power Event campaign by tomorrow morning so you better finish it today!’ she said firmly and didn’t wait for acknowledgement; briskly she marched on to tackle another hapless person. Rick pulled his shoulders in theatrical showing and went back to his desk without the coffee. It set the state of the days to come, and the sober week that followed.
[i] The original Koan is : “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?”, author unknown.
Geen opmerkingen:
Een reactie posten