by Jann Burner
There was an old man clad in rags, seated at the very edge of the forest, at the border where the plain of Tranquility runs up hard against the dense forest of Content. He was a tired-looking creature with long, white wind-whipped hair seated upon the close-cropped grass of the forest floor.
"What is this?" Harry wondered, approaching the old man seated in the grass at the edge of the trees.
The elderly gentleman watched Harry approach from out of the twinkling corner of one half-closed, emerald green eye. As he drew closer, the old gray beard nodded and slowly turned his body to greet him and smilingly replied to his unspoken question.
"I am the Geni of Desire, young man, and I dwell at the edge of the Forest of Content, that's Content, young man, not content." I see by your name-tag that you are called Harry. May I call you Harry? Fine, I'll call you Harry."
Harry was embarrassed to see that he was still wearing the large, white plastic name tag from the tour. He made a move to remove it.
"No, no, leave it," said the old man. "It serves you well. Now please sit. Sit down here in front of me."
Harry did as he was told. He seated himself directly in front of the stranger and marveled at the words which seemed to slip from the weathered, old face like gaseous balloons and rise gracefully, spreading their gentle energy across the warmish, summer sky. He noted that what first appeared to be merely old rags were actually the remnants of an ancient costume, part circus, part military, with stripes and faded spots, tattered epaulets, faded badges and metallic signs of rank and position. And, lying in the grass, close by, was a small, hand-crank organ once used by traveling circus performers. The old musical device was faded from its time under the sun and its once colorful inscriptions were now almost illegible. From the side of the Geni's ancient organ ran a long, silver cord and at the very end of the cord was a small, costumed monkey attached by a tiny leather collar. He was sitting about ten feet away, holding a small, engraved silver cup and openly observing them both.
"Who is your friend?" Harry inquired.
The old Geni rocked back and forth, hugging himself in great appreciation of the moment and began to chuckle.
"My little friend's name is Fascination and he, too, lives at the edge." Desire stretched out his hand to Fascination, who leaped up laughing, and turned towards Harry frantically shaking his little, silver, engraved monkey cup.
"Is Fascination thirsty," Harry inquired, observing the empty cup, "or hungry? For if he is, we can go to the house which is not far away..."
"Forget the house, Harry," interrupted Desire. "It is further away than you can imagine and, no, Fascination is not thirsty because he does not drink and he is not hungry because he does not eat. He is merely anxious that you give him some small token of your affection."
"But what can I offer your friend? I have no worldly goods, no things, no toys, no 'stuff'’?"
The Geni lit a small, curved cobbler's pipe and slowly expelled a stream of smoke between his yellowed teeth, saying in a strong, breathy whisper, "You have hope, my friend. All he needs is a little Hope."
"Well, then, you've got it! You can have all the hope I can muster--you and your little friend there."
Old Desire nodded and smoked and slowly rocked back and forth. "That's good. That's good. Hope in exchange for my services." He smiled. "You're leaving on a journey this day, Harry, a very important journey. This will undoubtedly be the most important journey of your life. And whenever someone leaves on a journey, they need a place to put their hope. So, I'll make you a deal. Place your hope with Desire and Fascination, Harry, and you will have the power to...DREAM!" The old graybeard suddenly raised his arms high into the air and with a grand Geni-like flourish, continued with his pronouncement. "I hereby give you The Wish, my young friend. Whatever you wish for, or indeed, even feel the need to bring into the jungle of your imagination will be validated, authenticated and made...REAL."
Harry couldn't help but wince at the resonant sound of the old man's pronouncement. He wasn't quite sure if he liked the rather ponderous, fateful quality of the words. As he watched, the Geni picked up his ancient instrument and sent his fingers scurrying over its keyboard, creating fantastic music, while Fascination ran around in excited circles shaking his little silver cup and jabbering in monkey talk.
"You must go to the wilderness." The words came unexpectedly like lyrics to a long forgotten song.
"But why?"
"You must come to see the face you wore before you looked in the glass..." exclaimed the Geni.
Harry felt confused. The graybeard looked at him and winked. "There is much to learn that is not yet spelled out in letters." And then he stopped playing. "But remember, Harry, the words, the musical notes, the beautiful noise, is just the rattling of bones. It is the pauses, the pools of silence that are important. The words merely alert the listener to the depth of the pool. Humans are a telepathic bunch, Harry, and the ones who are unafraid, like large spaces and deep pools."
Desire set down his organ and relit his pipe, holding the flame up for Harry to see. "Want to see something exciting? Some real communication? Wait until you see some of the deep trollers sing their songs, tell their sad and wondrous stories around a fire! It is electric! Something to do with the flame. Guaranteed to make you feel absolutely still..." He blew out the flame.
"Yes, I would like that. I would like someday to play an instrument like you. I wish to play the separate moments of my life like individual notes of music. To be able to compose my days like a progression of musical chords, a series of compositions around a central theme...that would be something!"
"And that day shall come to pass, my young friend. But, if you wish to orchestrate your consciousness, you must remember to give it your full attention. Here..." said the Geni.
He offered up a small intricately embroidered sack.
"Is this for me?"
"For traveling and adventuring," whispered Desire into the right side of Harry's mind. "This is to be a mystery tour, and within this small sack is found almost all the magic you will need."
Harry plunged his hand into the plush material and pulled forth a small pipe of silver, ivory, and bone. Etched deeply into the silver were three words--DESIRE, HOPE and TRUST. Below these three words, stretching completely around the small ivory bowl, was a white dolphin arching high above the waves of the ocean.
"Desire something worthy Harry, hope for the best, and trust that it will all work out."
Harry gently replaced the pipe deep within the folds of the small sack upon its bed of finely chopped possibility and shredded expectation.
Desire stood and slowly began to pace back and forth.
"Now, about this journey of yours, Harry. I am afraid there will be no turning back. You may choose to stop at some point during the course of the journey, but you may never turn back." The old man hesitated for a long moment considering his words. "This trip is sure to be wildly dangerous, but you are now a young man and you have vision. I suspect that with a little bit of what we call luck, you may eventually reach the very source of the mystery."
Harry felt slightly dizzy. Once again he didn't like the Geni's tone. "What do you mean by--luck?"
The old gray beard placed his index finger to his chin for a moment and reflected before answering. "Good question, Harry. Luck is that little creature that lives in the space between trust and doubt. It is like the little electrical spark that leaps across two synapses in your brain when you wish your finger to move, and trust that it will, and then observe it actually move! It is a little miracle."
Harry had to smile. "Yes, the little miracle. I can see that. But what is this mystery that you speak of?"
"Well, first I must speak to you of the Big Sea. Beyond this tranquil plain, far and away even beyond the Forest of Content, even beyond the dense Jungle of The Imagination lies what is called by name the Big Sea. Now, this idea is very large; it incessantly heaves its grand inte
ntion upon the beach of fractured dreams purely in order to reshape the shore of reality, and at the very exact and specific center of this ocean floats The Muse."
"And what is The Muse?" Harry inquired.
"The Muse," replied the old man, "is none other than The Dreamer of All That Is."
"Of All That Is?"
"Yes!" replied the Geni.
Harry found this hard to believe. "Even the land that we stand on and the future that we imagine?"
"Even you and even me..."said Desire in a husky whisper.
Harry felt an old, vertiginous paranoia crawling up his spine. "I see," was all that he could say.
"Then rejoice in the realization that you do see. Listen to my words when I say that your apparently inexhaustible life will pass in the twinkling of an eye. It is but a series of imagined events in the mind of The Dreamer. The most that you can hope for is good company along the way."
For some reason Harry felt positively depressed. "I hear your words and see your meaning, but it makes me feel sad. Why should I continue on this dangerous and mysterious journey? To tell the truth it frightens me."
"Well," said Desire with a shrug, "what can I say? In order to become whole; in order to fulfill the destiny that is set before you, you must first spend some time being human, and journeys like this are what humans seem to do."
"But who am I to do such a thing? I don't think that being human is really part of my nature."
"The thing is often, if not always, more than the sum of its parts. Do not underestimate the qualities of Man. That creature who walked around calling itself human was seldom expressing more than twenty percent of the truth. Just below the surface rode an entity of awesome proportion. As a human, Harry, you are like an iceberg. You are cruising eighty percent beneath the water, with only the tip of what you are exposed to the sun and the wind."
"But why do I have to do this?"
"Because you have vision Harry, and because, at this moment, you are a human being. I am just an old thing named Desire and while Desire may grant vision, its wish to see, there is but one Dreamer and it is called by name The Muse: the first cause, the initial drop in the big pond, the very source of gravity.
"The sadness and fear that you feel, the desire that you feel, Harry, is nothing compared to the primal agony of the slumbering Muse, yearning for adequate proof of its own reality. And yet, from out of that pit of protracted primal yearning comes the dream of all that is. Likewise, from your own agonized yearning will emerge the dream of all that you are."
Harry was silent for a long while, digesting the information being fed to him. Finally, his imagination seized upon a question, "Has anyone ever seen the Dreamer?"
The old veteran slowly folded his hands one over the other. "It is said that only a great artist has even the slightest chance of ever encountering the Muse."
Harry found himself hunching forward in spite of himself, anxiously leaning on the Geni's every word. The Geni seemed to eye him with suspicion, furrowing his brows as if trying to burn sincere desire into his youthful human spirit.
"Now listen carefully to what I say, my young human friend."
Harry found himself nodding enthusiastically.
"An artist's goal is similar to that of the alchemist, except, that it is not gold he is after, but direct communication with the source. His quest is to become reabsorbed, re-indentified, and finally reunited once again with the Dreamer of All That Is in a single explosive instant!"
The Geni of Desire paused for a moment to re-light his pipe before continuing. "I have only known of one individual to have survived such an encounter and that particular human spoke to me of his quest, not in words, but in music. Through his personal song performed upon a stringed instrument, crafted with his own hands, he was able to form and shape the melody so that for the duration of the music I was with him and we were together with The Muse. The sounds that he generated that day were so awesomely beautiful that nearby residents of the countryside began to speak of the Artist and when our time was done and he moved on, these same neighbors were given to wearing great ecstatic smiles for the rest of their days."
Harry looked deep into the sparkling clarity of Desire's eyes and, for an instant, he was treated to a view of the infinite as it spread before them in all directions.
"You see, art is a bridge between spirits," said Desire. "You will become an artist"
"Is this something I want to do?"
"An artist cannot enjoy his life by evading his task, Harry. Look at it this way--art isn't a solo performance, it's a symphony in the dark, and you as an artist are merely an instrument registering something already existent. We are only instruments of a greater power, my friend."
Harry nodded and focused on his breathing.
The old gray beard sat down beside him and motioned with his hand toward the forest that spread out before them. Apparently a decision had been made and he was now ready to receive his final instructions.
"First," said Desire, "you must thoroughly explore The Forest of Content until it leads you to the dense, inner Jungle of The Imagination. Then, when you finally become totally lost within the jungle, create an instrument of music--for without a song in your heart you will surely remain lost in the imagination forever and a day. Beyond the jungle of your own imaginings, you will eventually discover a paradise, but beware, for it will not be your Paradise because true PARADISE is created--never discovered.
"If you are successful the Muse will eventually hear your song and she will send her messengers to lead you to the very edge of the Sea--the Great Surround! At this point if your song is pure and your direction is clear, she will become distracted and, little by little, your song will assume a larger proportion within the Dream of All That Is. Soon thereafter the currents found within will begin to move you, and then, if you are extremely lucky, you will see the white dolphin: he is the last messenger of the Muse."
Harry was exhausted just listening to this information.
"But, Desire, what if I make it to the Big Sea, but never encounter the white dolphin?"
The Geni looked slowly to his left and then to his right as if silently conferring with numerous invisible advisors.
"In that case you will either die of thirst or go slowly mad and land on the coast of ignorance in the land of was, during the days of future past, before the flood that is yet to come."
Harry felt sick. "That's it?"
The white haired old man raised his right index finger high into the air, as if testing for a celestial breeze. "That's it! No one returns once they attempt to sail the Big Sea!"
"No one?" he ventured.
"Nope. Not even the white dolphin."
"But what if I make it to the edge of the Big Sea and no further?"
"Then," said Desire, "you will become one of the standing dead and remain on the beach forever to gaze out over the ocean of fractured dreams like a once living statue."
"But the dense inner jungle of the imagination is so awesome and convoluted, surely I will become lost forever..."
The Geni looked most gravely at him.
"For sure, and forever and a day," he said sternly. "Unless you retain enough of your insight to create a musical instrument; for only through practiced performance upon an instrument of your own creation will you finally develop discipline and skill enough to find your way through the maze of your own most private imaginings."
Harry felt afraid. There was no way around it. "What if I don't create a suitable instrument and remain lost in the jungle?"
"Then," said the old man peering off into the distance, tapping the ends of his fingers together and uneasily reading Harry's mind, "you will become a Shaman and by your presence you will serve as a marker and guide for all those who may come after."
"But the Forest of Content is so very large and unfamiliar and I am new at being human. Surely with each new day I will find nothing but further distraction and complication."
"I've got to tell you, Desire, what you are saying really scares me! I am but one person and what if I end up, as you say, lost in the Forest of Content counting the leaves on the trees?"
The old man cleared his throat, turned and casually dropped a small clear capsule into Harry's newly acquired adventuring bag.
"Then, Harry," he said with a wink, "you will end up just like everyone else."
So. Harry nodded and prepared to move off into the trees. Finally he understood. To be like everyone else was a compromise that he was unwilling to make. "And the small clear capsule? What is this for?"
"That," replied Desire with a quizzical expression, "is for no-thing and practice."
Harry turned and started off down the path into the woods. It was a sunny day. He was a human being and, once again, everything was...new.