The Arcturus Man

by John Strauchs

  “It’s not. You’ve been sitting there for quite some time now. Look at the sand right before the water line. Do you see anything unusual?”

  The sun was low. Jenny shaded her eyes with her hand. Jenny saw something sticking out of the sand. She got up and walked to it.

  “Is this what you are talking about, Jared! This is really odd. It feels warm, like plastic. It’s not a rock. What do you suppose it is?” It was a large brownish yellow lump of some kind of substance. She rolled it around in her hand. It was warm to the touch. She ran her fingertips over it. It had no hard edges. It couldn’t be glass. Most of it was heavily scratched, giving some parts a milky white look. It was most strange.

  “It’s been there the whole time but you didn’t notice it until I said something.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “That is a piece of raw amber. It came from the Baltic shore. I found it on a beach in Latvia near Jurmala.”

  “You put it here?” She was puzzled.

  “Yes!”

  “Well…why?”

  “It is a tradition my father taught me when I was a boy. When you come to a new place, you have to bring a stone or some other object from the earth to tell the new land ‘this is where I came from’ so the land and water will know you,” said Jared.

  “I can’t believe you did this Jared. You brought this all the way from the Baltic. You are an atheist…sorry…an agnostic. Are you telling me you believe in…” She couldn’t find the word. “…mysticism?”

  “I did it out of respect for my mother and father, but especially for my ancestors who did believe in spirits. My ancestors were animists, as were yours for that matter. In Sweden, there is a stand of trees in Upsala that was believed to be sacred, especially the oaks. Each tree was sacred. It was pantheism! I’m sure you’ve read John Toland in your studies or perhaps Spinoza. The sky, the land, the water, the trees…everything had spirits living in them.”

  “I heard of Spinoza. You mean like Druids?” asked Jenny.

  “Yes, like Druids,” he said.

  “Do you believe in that stuff?”

  “No, of course not. I do believe in cultural traditions, however,” said Jared. “That is all mythology. It’s paganism,” she said.

  “Tell me what the difference is? Why is monotheism believable and a Pantheon of gods are not? If it is all just a matter of blind, unquestioning faith, who has the right to say that Jesus is the son of God but a belief in wood nymphs is insane and paganistic? Faith is based on a belief that can’t be measured or tested. Faith requires no proof.”

  “You have to take a leap of faith, Jared. You have to believe in something. Is it so wrong that I believe in God and Jesus with all my heart? How can that ever be a bad thing—which is what you make it sound like,” she said.

  “It’s not a bad thing per se, but you’d have to agree that the organized religions can do great evil as well. Think about the crusades, or the Spanish Inquisitions, or the international terrorism we are experiencing today from people willing to kill people because they sincerely believe they are doing the will of their god. The death of three thousand or so people in the World Trade Center in 2001 was perpetrated by a large group of people...a group of people at one time…who thought that by killing all of those people they were instantly going to paradise. You tell me. Is organized religion a good thing?” asked Jared.

  “I’ve heard those arguments thousands of times. Just like you demonstrated that the color red can’t be explained, there aren’t any answers to your question. All I know is that I believe in God and that I believe in Jesus and that I want to live a good decent life because of my beliefs. I can’t be personally accountable for what other people do who claim they are religious. I can only be responsible for myself.” said Jenny.

  “That’s a strong and logical argument Jenny,” he said. “That was good. Each person must learn to cultivate their own garden.”

  Jenny was thrilled. You don’t win debates with Jared. She didn’t win this one either, but she held her own. She was very proud of herself. Jared was pleased too. Their relationship had become too much like teacher and pupil. He never cared for that. Ginger never acted like a pupil. He was pleased that Jenny had finally come around to standing up for herself as well.

  Jared had, for the moment, stopped analyzing. He listened and responded strictly to Jenny. That was an accomplishment to savor.

  “HI FOLKS. Can I ask you if you’re the owner?” asked a fisherman who walked out of the tree line.

  Jared jumped to his feet. How was it possible that he hadn’t sensed the threat? The man approaching them was dressed like a fisherman, but he was no fisherman. His hands weren’t the hands of a fisherman. The tackle he was carrying was fresh water tackle that no one but a city boy who bought his stuff at Wal-Mart would carry for ocean fishing. And, the man had an accent. It was barely noticeable, but it was there for certain. It was a trace of a Hispanic accent.

  “I would like permission to fish off the rocks on the shoreline. There is a good current that passes there that is full of fish,” said the pretender.

  “What are you fishing for?” asked Jared.

  “Spanish mackerel. I’ve been taking Spanish mackerel for years in these waters but I’ve never been able to keep my boat steady in that current so I thought it would save me a lot of hard boat driving if I could sit on those rocks down there,” said the fisherman.

  Jared was now convinced he was a liar. There was deception in his thoughts but the story about the Spanish mackerel was the clincher. Despite that Jared had caught two himself, those hauls had been a rare anomaly. Spanish mackerel don’t come this far north and certainly haven’t been here for years. Whatever freaks of ocean conditions brought them here recently, those conditions hadn’t existed for years.

  “Sorry, the island is a wildlife preserve. It wouldn’t do to have someone fishing from it. Hope you don’t mind?” said Jared.

  “That’s OK, I understand. I didn’t know that,” said the pretender.

  He kept leering at Jenny. She had covered herself with her beach towel but Jared noticed that the man had a camera with him. It had a large zoom lens. He probably photographed them both from cover.

  “Another thing friend. We both have a thing about privacy. I need to take a look at your camera,” said Jared.

  The man dramatized his reaction by exaggerating his shock at the request. He was not a very good liar and he was worse at being an actor.

  “You think I was taking pictures of your girl friend. Is that what you think?” he asked.

  “You are not leaving with that camera,” said Jared.

  The man started to turn around to walk away.

  “You are not leaving with that camera,” said Jared again. He started for the man.

  “OK. OK. Here!” said the fisherman.

  It was digital. Jared brought up the last few photos from the camera’s memory. Just as he thought, there were photos of both of them. Very few people, if any, had photos of Jared as a man. More importantly to Jared, most of the shots were extreme closeups of Jenny. They were very explicit photographs. Jared erased all of the photos. The pretender just stood there watching.

  “I’m really sorry about that fella. You can’t blame a guy for trying. She is really beautiful, but you know that of course,” he said.

  Jared tossed the camera back to him.

  “You’ve got five minutes to get off my island. After that you’ll learn how I feel about what you just did,” said Jared.

  The man ran. He ran as fast as he could. Jared would have hurt him for what he did, but he didn’t want to do it in front of Jenny. There would be another time.

  Jared was upset. Had he been an assassin, like the bunch that tracked him down at Old Orchard Beach, he and Jenny might be dead. Jenny would have been killed. His senses had failed him. He let down his guard. He stopped analyzing and it could have cost Jenny her life. This can never happen again. He would not allow it.

  “Ja
red, was that man taking pictures of me?” asked Jenny.

  “Yes, but I took care of that. There are no pictures now,” he said.

  “I told you I shouldn’t be dressed like this outdoors. I TOLD YOU,” she said.

  “You were right. I was wrong. I am so sorry Jenny. It will never happen again,” said Jared.

  They picked up their towels and walked back to the house. They were both very disturbed by what had just happened. Jared made vows to himself in his mind. It will never happen again. It was a promise he might not be able to keep…and he knew that.

  Chapter Sixteen – Mormor

  Eagle’s Head Island – Late September 2013 Evening

  Tugging on a pull cord tied to a nail, Jenny was gently swaying in the large white cotton hammock inside the screened in porch. Her head was nestled in a fluffy pillow. This was her favorite room. She had no idea that a hammock could be so soft and comfortable. It had been no more than thirty minutes since they finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen. It was another wonderful meal. Jared did most of the cooking, as usual. He could be a chef in any restaurant in Boston. She was slowly nodding off. Dusk was morphing into night. The loons were calling to one another in the distance, gathering their families for the night. Jenny wanted a family too. She daydreamed what it might be like. She wanted a baby.

  A gentle scented breeze flowed through the porch. It was a warm evening. Jared‘s lessons were paying off. She could hear the leaves of the plants caress one another. Somewhere close a female mosquito was trying to get through the screen. Only the females bite. The mosquito sensed Jenny’s breathe. It was all about the chemistry, as Jared would say. A few moths had somehow gotten into the veranda. She thought she could hear the racing wing beats of the moth. night on Eagle’s Head. She couldn’t be happier.

  “Hey, try this,” said Jared. He was excited.

  She blinked her eyes open.

  “What?” The enchantment of the moment was broken. Jenny closed her eyes. It was the opus of the

  Jared had pulled one of the large white wicker plantation chairs close to the hammock. He held a small cardboard shoe box in front of her. A large slot was cut into one end. The lid was taped down.

  “Put your hand inside.”

  She gave him a ‘no way man’ look.

  “What’s in there?”

  “I want to show you something. I want to show you that you can do things you didn’t know you could do,” said Jared.

  She sat up and swung her legs to the floor. It was still an awkward position. “Why do I have to do this? It was so peaceful. What is this?”

  “You’ll see. Put your hand in here.”

  “OK! OK!” She slowly put her hand through the slot in the box. “It feels like a

  piece of cloth. What am I doing?”

  “You found the cloth. Good! Now put the tips of your fingers just above the cloth

  so you are barely touching it.”

  “Yea, now what?” asked Jenny.

  “Put your hand in deeper and find a second cloth. They’re both glued to the cardboard.”

  “What exactly am I supposed to do?”

  “Start with not asking questions. Just listen to the instructions.”

  “That was bossy,” thought Jenny. She turned her head away from Jared. “Float your finger tips over one cloth and then the other. Concentrate! Tell me if

  one feels cooler than the other.”

  “Is this supposed to be a magic trick?”

  Jared rolled his eyes. He was losing patience. This was intended to be interesting

  and teach her something important. It was also supposed to be fun. He ignored her question. He didn’t think he was being bossy but maybe he was being insensitive. He knew

  he could be like that without realizing he was.

  “Jenny, I just want to show you that you have abilities you don’t know you have.

  Can you close your eyes and try it. Please? You’ll like this. I promise you will.” “OK.” She closed her eyes. Her brow furled as she concentrated. She held her

  breath for a few seconds.

  “I don’t know what you expect me to do?”

  “Focus on your finger tips. They are incredibly sensitive but most people never

  tap into the extra feeling everyone has. Move your fingers lightly above each cloth. Go

  back and forth between them. See if one is different somehow from the other.” “Gosh, Jared. It just feels like cloth.”

  “FOCUS! FOCUS!”

  “I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M FEELING FOR, said Jenny.

  “Keep your eyes closed and stop talking,” said Jared, softly this time. “More orders,” thought Jenny.

  “Just think about your finger tips. Feel the blood flowing. Focus and you will

  feel the tips of your fingers begin to feel just a little bit of pressure. Focus.” Minutes passed. Jenny kept her eyes closed. As her concentration went deeper, it

  was easy to see that her body was relaxing. Her head rolled back on her shoulders. The

  position was awkward but she adjusted. Then came the epiphany.

  “I do feel something. I think one of the cloths is warmer. I’m just not sure.” She

  kept her eyes closed.

  “Don’t wait until you are sure. You’ll never be sure. The secret in this kind of

  sensory skill is to trust in what you feel…not what you think. This is just one of many

  kinds of generally unnoticed sensory abilities most people could develop but they ignore

  what they feel because they’re unsure. Almost all people recognize instinct, but then they

  distrust it because they can never be certain about what they are feeling…because they

  think about it. It is all about trusting yourself and learning to be OK about not being sure. Marie walked in. Her hands were on her hips.

  “Mr. Jared. What you expect me do with pile of shoes in the hall? I see you

  found new use for boxes,” said Marie.

  “Go away Marie. We’re doing something. Kick the shoes in the closet for all I

  care.” Jared was getting pissed.

  “Fine! Don’t ask Marie where your shoes are.” She pivoted and stormed out. “Jenny, close your eyes again. Which cloth is warmer? Just tell me what you

  feel. Don’t think about it.”

  “The second one!”

  Jared pulled the top off the shoe box, ripping the tape. The first cloth was blue.

  The deepest cloth was cardinal red.

  “Look!”

  “It’s red. Wow! I heard that red is a hotter color. I never realized that could be

  literally true.” She was getting excited about this. This was interesting after all. Jared was pleased. His pupil was learning. He grabbed a second box from the

  floor.

  “Do it again.”

  Jenny closed her eyes. Her lips tightened. She held her breath.

  “The second one.”

  “Perfect,” said Jared. He ripped the top off. The second one was red. He

  grabbed a new box.

  “Again,” said Jared.

  “It is still the second one.”

  Jared was beaming. He was sure she would have assumed that the colors would

  be switched, but she still got it right.

  “One more time.” He gave her the fourth box.

  “The first.” She peaked as Jared removed the cover. “Wow. It is red again.” “You’re getting it Jenny. You are really getting it.”

  Jenny was immensely proud that she did something that actually impressed him.

  He was very difficult to impress.

  “Come on. Let me try again.”

  “You got four out of four. You got it. You can get better and better at this if you

  practice. You can identify all of the colors if you keep working at it but the really important thing to learn is to trust in what you feel. Thought just gets in the way. Knowledge is

  the enemy of fa
ith.”

  “I think I understand that. I really do,” said Jenny.

  “Knowledge is the enemy of faith?” she repeated in her mind. She wondered if

  this was another veiled dig at religion. She didn’t want to argue with Jared again, and

  certainly not about religion.

  Jared was lecturing again. She made a point of showing interest but being

  schooled…being treated like a schoolgirl…was beginning to bother her. “Intelligence eventually became much more important to hunting and survival for

  primordial man than the sense of smell. Our ancestors with a very poor sense of smell

  were able to procreate and survive as well as those with a keen sense of smell but the

  one’s with higher intelligence really prospered. In time senses deteriorated over thousands of generations,” he said.

  “I never thought of it that way,” said Jenny.

  “I’m certain that there have been times when you felt that someone was watching

  you…and someone was. That is a remnant of those ancient lost skills.”

  “Yes, I get it.”

  “Most people…Hell…all people…know what is possible and what is not only

  because they are taught what is possible. Sometimes what they’re taught is wrong.

  People don’t test the teachings. People have lost the ability to be instinctive. Let’s assume that every person has the ability to wiggle his ears. If one person sees someone else

  who can wiggle his ears, he might try to wiggle his ears for a while, but if he can’t seem

  to do it, he gives up. He has taught himself what he can’t do. He thinks he can’t, so he

  can’t. Mind you, I am not saying that thinking isn’t very important, but like all things, it has its place and feeling has its place. Everyone has the ability to wiggle their ears.”

  Wiggling your ears is learned from feeling, not from thought,” said Jared. “It is kind of confusing. It sounds contradictory. Isn’t feeling just a kind of thinking?” asked Jenny.

  “Not at all. Each occurs in a different part of the brain. Each is a different

  process…differeent chemicals. Your finger tips can feel something that is rough. Your