Category: Pains, politics, unpleasantries

A  Lesson in Trust

He was her hero. She grew up worshipping him. That was the biggest mistake of her young life.

He forged through the underbrush, vines and trees ahead of her until they came to a small opening in the wild forest.  He stopped in mid-stride, causing her to stumble against him, almost falling. She recovered herself and stood upright behind him, breathing deeply, grateful for the rest. A small pool of water from a spring was to her left. She began to brush the bits of forest from her legs. That’s when she heard it. A different sound. Coming from his direction. Her head jerked up. But she was too late and he moved too fast.

Her face took the brunt of the assault, stinging and blinding her eyes, scratching her cheeks and slicing her lips. Her blood began to pour from all the open wounds. Then he pounded her back and neck, sending waves of searing pain throughout her body. She weakened as the assault kept coming. She was on her knees when he began to work on her arms, bludgeoning them into painful bruises until blessed numbness flooded over them. When her head and shoulders fell forward and onto the ground, he stopped. He was breathing heavily, excitedly.

Peering out of blood-filled eyes, she looked up at him. He was above her, staring at her with grinning satisfaction. He was no longer human, but a monster form. She began to control her breathing, lying still. He turned around.

She began to inch her way back up, lifting her shoulders slightly up from the ground. Plotting her return attack, she slipped her hand to her knife pack. But he was too quick. He jerked at a sound coming from a cluster of rocks at the edge of the clearing. He ran out of the tiny space and disappeared behind the rocks and deeper into the forest, leaving her alone and stranded.

She stopped her hand in mid-lift, frustrated and shocked. She gathered herself up painfully and stood, then went to the water to cleanse herself.

She washed for half an hour, soothing her wounds and caring for them. Her wounds were raw, but they would heal. Once a person she loved, he began to rot inside, and now – he was a beast. She would kill him, gladly and quickly. Not for assaulting her body, or for trying to end her life. But for trying to turn her spirit into his madness. She wanted to hurt him now, fast and hard. But she was also deeply afraid, and ashamed of her fear. He was all she had. The forest was bigger and more mysterious without him.

When she was through with her wounds, she gathered up her tools, leaving the food behind. It was poisonous, she knew that now. She would find safe and fresh sustenance.

She called upon her Spirit, the guide she had hid from him, which she knew still had strength she didn’t. “Spirit, I love and trust you will all my heart and will. I strive to bring you honor, joy and peace.  I am grateful for your presence, your inspiration, your total love and warmth.” She looked around, wondering if she could build an existence there. Are there beautiful animals of grace and dignity that would truly echo her love and trust? Or, because she once traveled with this insanity and did not see it, has she, too, gone beyond the realm of love and health?

The forest is YOUR realm, not his, my child. Get to know its beauty, its food, its creatures; live among them and respect them, so that a piece of them can be given you. You are transformed, rescued from all that you have carried. Hand over your bow, your arrows, your packages.  Stand before me transformed.  You are no longer here – the creatures of the forest have each given you themselves to carry inside of you, for strength.

It was not odd for her to hear direction. It was how she had survived growing up. It was time to move on. She took three steps and saw the odd light of a rock.

It wasn’t a rock. It was a tiny, tiny piece of crystal. It glinted and shone, so like her spirit within. There was no mistaking where it came from:  it came from the huge mountain itself that dwarfed the forest. She picked up the piece of crystal and turned it over in her hand. Light sprang out from multiple facets. It was more glorious than anything she had ever had. He would stay any from her because he was a coward, and could not face her now that she knew what he really was. She would be safe from him because he would no longer matter. She slipped it into her pocket.

For days and weeks, she glided through the forest. In each creature, she saw the wonderful eyes of her Spirit. Then on the day the sun was shining the brightest she had ever seen, she came across a new clearing. The air was sweet and caressing. The trees swayed in the breeze. The flowers bloomed and became fragrant. The water flowed in sparkling clarity. There was peace and love in that space.

She sensed he was coming nearer. The clearing, whether he came now or later, was safe, and the plants and animals knew it.

She settled into the clearing, gathering her power. She need not look for him any more and waste her strength. He would come back searching for her, of that she was certain. He would track her, stupidly.  He would become his human form again, hiding the madness and he would beg. He needed to lie in the places he had before, in the light.  He would find her and she would strike him. First in the face, then the head, then the back. She would do that with the tool of power – his own madness. Then, when he survived and crawled away, he’d drag his adversarial madness with him.

Like she did every day when she returned to the clearing, she sat very still, holding the crystal in her hand. The light reflected out in all directions.  “I am everywhere,” her Spirit was telling her.  “Embrace me and take me with you in your heart. We are the power, we are the strength, we are the peace.”

It was time to move to the edge of the clearing.  She slipped the crystal into her pocket and went to the fire pit she had built, spreading out the embers so the fire would die out.  She would not leave that for him.

She was on the edge of the clearing, hidden. She looked around.  She had seen old tracks and now heard him before she saw him. Seconds later, she spotted him on the other side of the clearing. He was no longer alone. Stealthily, she made her way to him and his small band of followers.

He had not heard her approach. She was so livid at seeing him that she wanted to rush up and crush his bones and smash his teeth, just to hear him whimper and whine. Yet anger would not dictate her actions. Anger was not a strategy. It was only an energy that took her to him. She watched him.

He crawled easily into the clearing, but suddenly saw it is a ruse. He is posed to run. He had painted a mark on his face that hid the cruelty of his lips; he was wearing a mask over his eyes to hide the madness, the hyena eyes.

She saw it all.

She would never have come into the open. Yet she saw why he had – his pack of smaller hyenas were right  behind him, barely containing their excitement. hey were getting animated by his actions, and the sight repulsed her. He was doing it for them; a pathetic show.

He did not know she was there.

Watching the madman put a bit of dance into his step, and his followers howl with religious fervor, made her grimace. Such fools!

He lay a pound of food upon the ground, then stood up, danced and whooped. His pack went wild and mimicked him.

She saw the deception in the offering of food. Then saw the pieces inside that sparkled in the morning sun. Glass.

She could easily kill him. Her Spirit knew that and would not stop her. She could scatter the pack, all the while inflicting wounds, trying to rid herself of all her hatred and anger through viciousness. Then he would know she was there, that she had gotten her power. She knew her Spirit would remain calm, serene, loving. Did her Spirit trust her so with one who doesn’t deserve kindness?  Her Spirit would not look at her differently, she knew that.  Its look would always be welcoming, always full of love. So why didn’t she act out of anger and hatred, knowing nothing would cause those eyes to stop loving her?

Because the hatred would be turned back onto her, and she’d run from those eyes because she would not want to see herself mirrored in them. She would be like him.

She stood up then and walked into the clearing and stopped, in full view of all of them. He and the pack were so self-absorbed, they did not even notice her at first, so thick was the veil of their self-deceptions.

“I will take it.” Her Spirit said simply. “You have carried it enough. Now it is my turn.”   A hand slowly appeared in the air between her and the pack. She looked up into her Spirit’s eyes and then glanced back at the mad man. He was still dancing. He was still mad, mean and petty. The pack was vicious and cruel.

She placed the tiny piece of crystal in the outstretched hand of love. A fist closed upon it.  She sighed deeply, feeling all the eyes of love upon her. She knew then that her Spirit had chosen this place for her, in the forest of so many eyes of love, to weaken the man’s assault, to slow down the man’s walk. If ever he returned, it would be indifferent to her.  This was her clearing now and he would have no power here.

The hand disappeared and she was staring at him again. He was limping now, but she had not touched him. The pack sensed something and were beginning to scatter in panic.  Already things were changing.  She watched as the madman and the pack whimpered away, and until the peace settled once again upon the clearing.

She looked down at her empty hand.  In giving up the piece of crystal, she had gotten the whole mountain.