Paige’s mood turned somber. “More of that crazy Adam stuff. I thought you said you were done with that.”
“I never said that. I said I thought it was done with me.” Then Ramsey realized how ridiculous this was. He began to laugh nervously. “I’m sorry, Paige, I didn’t mean to put you off. It’s just that I have this notion the Adam stuff is going to be important. How about we celebrate after I get back from Des Moines?”
Paige smiled. “Thanks for the apology. I’ll make reservations for us at your favorite restaurant.” They bumped fists. “Now let’s put on a show for these minds hungry for knowledge.”
April 16, 2016
Des Moines, Iowa
Ramsey found Grossinger in one of the two remaining chairs in Adam’s old condo. Everything else was gone.
Without getting up, Grossinger said, “I’m glad you could make it.”
“What happened here?”
“Adam told me to get rid of everything.”
“When? You talked to him?
“Not lately. ‘Get rid of it all when I’m dead,’ he said.”
“Is he dead?” Ramsey asked, settling into the other chair. He kept his focus on the real estate developer, once more using the same techniques he had honed for many years to elicit answers from interviewees.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking. How about you?”
Ramsey shrugged, the gesture inviting Grossinger to elaborate.
Instead, Grossinger handed Ramsey a packet of Adam’s writings. “These contain his lifelong interest and research into miraculous healings. They also include materials Adam had written after the accident.” Grossinger got up and paced about the empty room. “Last time I saw him, Adam told me he had become quite aware that he was transforming into the purest form of the archetypal healer. He didn’t want the world to know about his powers until after his death, or, if possible, ever. He was afraid that he would become like a cult leader or religious figure. Or even worse, people would come to him directly for healings.”
Grossinger stopped pacing and returned to his chair, pulling it closer to Ramsey. “I’ve been instructed to give Adam’s writings to you.”
Ramsey jerked in surprise. By now he knew that Grossinger was an enigma who never gave straight answers, but this time he thought he should try to get to the bottom of it. “Who told you to? Adam?”
“I can’t say.”
“You mean you won’t say?”
“They’re your responsibility now”
“What am I supposed to do with them?”
“Whatever you want. It’s your turn now. I am done with it all. Adam was the best friend I ever had.” Grossinger began tearing up. He cried deeply until Ramsey touched him on the shoulder. A jolt of deep connection passed between the two men. Grossinger stopped crying and his composure returned instantly. He gazed at Ramsey and nodded knowingly. “Make sure history treats this grand friend and man well.”
Ramsey could only promise, “I will.”
Back in the car Ramsey looked over the writings. Glimpses of insight flitted through his brain and a certain understanding settled into his being. He began to understand that his searching would always be driven by a state of not knowing, but also that on his journey, each struggle would transform him into a higher state of consciousness and give him a more encompassing perspective. There is wisdom in the energy and flow of conflict, he told himself. To experience that in any moment is what brings about creativity or rebirth. Each rebirth moves us more closely to the purest form of our chosen archetype.
April 18, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico
Ramsey stepped outside and looked at his watch, 5:35am. First light was glowing in the East. He chose to stay at the hotel in Rio Chama just as he had during his first visit to the shrine.
Although delayed for three hours, the flight from Chicago to Albuquerque had been uneventful. Paige and Maggie had hit it off from the very beginning. It was Maggie’s first time flying; in fact, she had never once left Northeastern Illinois, and she was quite nervous. The three of them occupied one row near the front of the plane. Maggie sat in the window seat with Paige in the middle. It was a bumpy landing. It was interesting to see this cocksure, confident woman of the street exhibit raw fear. She gripped Paige’s hand. The trust was building and that was good. He wanted Maggie to feel comfortable.
The drive from the airport to Rio Chama was uneventful. Maggie seemed mesmerized by the strange terrain. By the time they arrived at Beecher’s cabin, darkness had settled in. Myriam had a meal ready and had many questions for the young black woman, which Maggie answered as best she could.
After dinner, they gathered on the front porch. Here in the New Mexico wilderness where there was almost no light pollution, the sky was awash with stars. The Milky Way glowed. Maggie stared into the night with the awe of a little girl. Ramsey felt her wonder and embraced it, seeing it in his own path, as he grew closer to becoming the archetype that providence had chosen for him. He rose to leave and said to everyone, “I’ll swing by tomorrow at eight to pick up Maggie and Paige and drive them to the shrine.”
Maggie, having recovered some of her cockiness, said “Why not? That’s what I’m here for, right?”
Myriam said. “Why don’t Hiram and I take them and meet you there?”
Ramsey agreed, since he wanted to visit the Milagro Shrine himself before he showed it to Maggie and Paige. The last time he had been there, the sequence of events from the chapel to his kidnapping had had such a powerful effect on his psyche that he needed to clear the emotions associated with the place and face it anew.
The Rio Chama Café was open. A few ranchers had gathered for early morning coffee. Ramsey hoped he might spy Rosa and Pete, but the two were nowhere around. He figured wind and whimsy had not yet brought them back to Rio Chama. He experienced a momentary pang of loss, then realized he would see his friend again when the time was right.
Paying the bill, he drove the ten minutes to the shrine and found himself crossing the threshold as he had the first time. Nothing untoward happened. If anything, he felt calm. Looking around, he found himself actually checking to see if Haas might be lurking. But there was only one visitor, an older man standing underneath the cottonwood. Suddenly that sense of mystery he had experienced many years ago at the Dvorak house in Iowa gripped him in a way he had never felt before. Then it came to him: I am to be the door, the one who can bring truth from the other side and have it manifest in this world. I now know what Adam was saying in his writings and what Jesus was saying in the Gospels. Ramsey felt a great sense of being uplifted. At the same time he realized that, although it was very clear to him, he could never explain this understanding to anyone else. Everyone has to get it for themselves.
Ramsey walked in silence and stillness of mind to the great cottonwood tree. There he bowed. He felt a deep gratitude for the many turnings and struggles and conflicts of his life, now seeing clearly that they were not failures but necessary steps on his journey.
At eight that morning for a second time that day Ramsey found himself at the gateway to the shrine. This time Maggie was by his side. Paige must have sensed the change in him, for she hung back with Myriam and Hiram.
It was a Sunday, and an unusually large number of people had made the pilgrimage to the shrine. Maggie took it all in and finally asked, “Where’re the black people?”
“New Mexico doesn’t have many Blacks. They have Hispanics,” said Ramsey.
Maggie shrugged. “What good does that do me? I’m here because you told me the shrine would help me become a leader for my people. I don’t see it.”
Ramsey pointed at all the pilgrims. “Why do you think these people are here?”
“It said on the web that the shrine is some kind of super health spa or something like that.” She peered at the old and the infirm as they crossed the grounds to the Visitor Center. Some made the laborious climb up the stone steps to the cottonwood tree and the Christ Chapel. She snickered. “
Unless you’re talking about some kind of scam my gang and I can pull on white dudes back in Chicago, I don’t see where my leadership thing fits in.”
Ramsey nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that’s one take on it. But let me tell you a story that might help you see it in a different light. Not too long ago no one came here. It was just an empty field with a big old cottonwood tree dying up there on the hilltop. Then a man named Adam Gwillt arrived, hoping to recover from a terrible motorcycle accident. Shortly after, a group of people gathered one evening below that big cottonwood tree up there. Out of nowhere miracles began happening, healings, people changing their lives and relationships. Word spread that it was a remarkable place of healing. People came from all over. They pooled their resources, built the Visitor Center and the Christ Chapel, and put in stone steps to the top of the hill.” He paused. “They thought the power somehow came from the cottonwood.”
Maggie brandished a brochure Myriam had given her. “That’s all in here.”
“What’s not in there, what they didn’t know, and only a few people now know—and now you too will know—the secret of the healing power of this place was a man named Adam.”
She snorted derisively. “Come on, how? Some sorta modern-day Jesus thing?”
“The way he put it is that he held the door open to the healing energy coming from the other side. He also said this ability to hold the door open to the other side was once rare but now it’s becoming more common, becoming part of humanity.”
Maggie eyed him skeptically. Her lips turned down in a frown. “You mean like talking to God? You learn in the streets real quick there is no God, only guns and money and drugs. So, where’s this Adam guy now?”
“He’s not here anymore and he may be dead. But here’s the amazing thing. He left a message for you. You can be like him.”
“I can be like some white guy pretending he’s Jesus? No thanks. I got enough trouble in Chicago without my crew thinking I’m crazy.”
Ramsey grinned. “I see your point. It does sound crazy put that way.”
They had been climbing the stone steps as they walked. The cottonwood had completely leafed out. The benches circling it were filled with young and old sitting silently or praying softly. Little children played and ran about, but those ringing the tree did not call out to them to be quiet.
Ramsey and Maggie walked up the narrow gravel path until they reached the Christ Chapel. A group of pilgrims filed out. They seemed not to care at all that an older man was standing at the entrance talking to a young Black girl dressed in gang colors. Many of them smiled at her and Maggie turned away in confusion at their friendliness.
Ramsey smiled and said. “Yeah, the whole kumbaya thing takes some getting used to. Tell you what. This trip isn’t costing you anything. So why don’t you indulge me and go ahead to sit inside for a while.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
“That’s stupid.”
“You trusted me once, so please give it a try. Then walk around and explore and see what happens.”
Maggie ground her teeth. “This isn’t what I expected when you said you’d teach me how to become a leader.”
“We’ll get to that, but I want you to do this first. You have a watch?”
“I’m not stupid. I have my phone.”
“Okay. Someone will meet you down by the gate, say at 2 o’clock.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He stared at her. “Are you afraid?”
“Fuck no.”
With that Ramsey walked off leaving Maggie, arms crossed, glaring at him.
April 21, 2016
Seattle, Washington
Ramsey stared at the buildings as the Lincoln Town Car passed through the heart of downtown Seattle. Rain on the side windows distorted the images, elongating some, flattening others. He was suddenly shy. The initial excitement had finally worn off and apprehension crept upon him as a feeling of imminent destiny gathered deep within him. He swallowed, his throat dry. He seriously considered having the driver stop the car so he could get out.
Only yesterday Carlotta had burst into Myriam’s cabin and breathlessly announced to him, “If you want to meet Adam, you need to go to Seattle immediately.”
The moment was indelibly etched in Ramsey’s mind. Myriam’s hand had gone to her throat. Hiram stopped talking. Paige and Maggie had shrunk against the kitchen sink as if knowing instinctively they were not a part of the invitation. In that invitation laid the answers to all his questions, questions building over the last twelve years since his misadventure in Peru.
“Of course,” he remembered saying, his voice rational and calm, though his heart pounded so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears.
“Come with me,” she said. Ramsey had gotten up and left without a word to the others. No one said anything. Maggie stared at him for a moment then rushed over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Her experience at the shrine had changed her. He didn’t have to ask; it was written on her face. Maggie had one of those rare experiences that transforms a person instantly. The brash cockiness that had long masked her fear of the future had vanished, and it its place was confidence that comes from accepting fear and using its chaotic energy to find solutions. Paige smiled at him—and then he was gone, through the door.
The driver guided the limo into an underground garage. The lettering above the entrance read “Columbia Center.” He stopped before a bank of elevators. A young man with jet-black dreadlocks waited. “We’re here, sir,” the driver said.
By the time Ramsey got out of the car, his luggage was on a small cart being wheeled toward an elevator.
The young man put out his hand. “I’m Alex. Adam’s nephew.” He was tall and broad shouldered. His grip was firm. “Please follow me.”
They entered the car. The young man hummed to himself as it shot up sixty stories. Ramsey started to ask a question and Alex interrupted. “It’s better if I don’t say anything, Mr. Ramsey. Uncle Adam would prefer I don’t prejudice you in any way.”
He ushered Ramsey into an office. Through the rain-streaked glass Ramsey saw Seattle shrouded in mist. Alex opened the door to an inner office and held it for Ramsey, then closed it behind him, leaving him alone in a room with no windows and only the one door.
Along one side was a leather couch and in it sat someone or something. Ramsey immediately experienced a change in visual perception. It was unclear to him if it was a person or an object. Then he heard the unmistakable voice of the apparition he’d encountered his first time at the Milagro Shrine. It asked, “Who do you think I am?” The voice was slow and melodic, almost as if it came from another room or from speakers hidden in the ceiling. Ramsey was unsure if it was somebody actually talking to him.
He focused on the shadow where it occupied the right hand portion of the couch. He said in a low tone, “We met under the cottonwood tree almost four weeks ago.” The words acted like a magician saying “abracadabra.” The shadow lost its indistinct quality and firmed up into a man wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt. Graying red hair framed a rugged face with high cheekbones and questing blue eyes. The man was naturally big-boned and muscular. “You’re Adam,” Ramsey said.
“If you say I am. You’ve come here for answers. Here’s what I say to you. Stop resisting what you have been fighting all your life. Become a master of two worlds like Jesus did, but in your own way.”
The door opened and Alex stepped into the room. “The driver will take you to your hotel, now,” he said and gestured for Ramsey to leave. Ramsey turned back to the couch. The shadow had regained its amorphous shape. He started to laugh. “Of course.”
He walked out of the room. The door closed softly behind him, only it wasn’t the sound of closing but of a door opening in his mind and in his life. He knew what he had to do. He would go back to Rio Chama’s Milagro Shrine, and sitting under the cottonwood tree, he would go to the other side, and comeback changed. He would merge with his higher-self aga
in and again, emerging each time ever closer to becoming numinous, transparent to the other side in his own unique way. He would become the archetype of transformation, spreading a new kind of sacred place throughout the world.
June 21, 2016
Blue Island, Illinois
At the dedication of the Blue Island Sacred Shrine, Ramsey strode up the steps to the stage to acknowledge his part in the founding of the new Leonardo Shrine. On one side of the dais were Ron Grange and Janet Furlong, the only other white people on the platform. Maggie and several of her crew stood beside them.
Reverend Small shook his hand. “Now that you see all this, what are your feelings?”
“Feelings?” Ramsey pursed his lips, looked around at the crowd. He took the microphone from the man and walked back and forth across the narrow stage. “Feelings . . . fear, love, hatred, hope, despair, anger. They come and go like shadow puppets. They grab you and hold you, trap you. . . . I’ve been trapped many times. Feelings, are not reliable, not reliable at all, not to be trusted.”
The crowd looked confused.
At the front of the onlookers Paige projected the sign of a cross with her two forefingers and Ramsey knew he had to be more careful about what he told people in the future.
She’s good to have around, he told himself. He was glad he had decided to stay with her. She’s the anchor I need in this world.
The Adam Enigma Page 28