All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923)

by Humphrey, Michael C.

  Almost as if mankind were a crocodile, a creature of both land and water, human beings swim in a sea of both physical and spiritual, yet rarely glimpse the greater of the two, so content are they with their immediate surroundings. Kole was glad that, among other things, he had taken the time that morning to kneel before his Creator and ask for a blessing upon today’s endeavor.

  Before he knew it, he had reached his anticipated jump site. His thoughts had so sure-footedly meandered amongst the crags and crevices of his imagination that he had barely registered the last few hundred feet of his climb. Now he stood on a grassy slope, two-thirds of the way up the mountain, mentally preparing himself to leap off the raw edge of the cliff with nothing more than a few sticks and some cloth to prevent his demise. He silently prayed again that God would be with him, but he knew that he was defying natural laws that the Creator had established. He could not hope that God would send angels to cushion his fall after voluntarily throwing himself off the mountain. Perhaps, but that would be God’s choice and was not a realistic allowance.

  Kole set his bundle and pack down on the grass and began to untie the leather straps holding it together. He set aside the lengths of bamboo that would make up the frame and supporting struts and unrolled the extraordinarily light and amazingly smooth cloth that he had had commissioned to be woven especially for this project. Amazing how the Creator can lead you to find just what you need.

  On his journeys, while Kole had been exploring the world, he had met two blind sisters; rare, remarkable women. They lived in a small fishing village on the shore of a large inland sea with their brother. They had invited Kole to stay with them for a few days, and after he had accepted, he discovered a home away from home.

  Their brother had an uncanny knack for construction. His innovative loom designs enabled them to produce some of the finest fabrics that Kole had ever encountered. Kole had given them his specifications, and in exchange for one hundred sheep and ten mules they had produced a work of art.

  Dyed a deep blue color with lines of purple woven through it in geometric patterns, the sisters had created for Kole a textile of such rich complexity, durability, and craftsmanship that Kole still marveled every time he looked at it. Kole had then spent many hours applying layer upon thin layer of a special sealing compound, which he had perfected, to the cloth, made from a mixture of plant oils and wax that when dried created a sleek, invisible, wind-resistant barrier.

  He slid the slender bamboo rods through loops of fabric on the windward, or leading, edge of the wings and attached them to a bamboo framework with small pegs. Each peg had a hole bored through the exposed ends and Kole pressed angular wooden pins through these to prevent the pegs from slipping.

  Kole drove two tapered spikes of wood into the ground and attached the fabric wings to them with hemp ropes to prevent the glider from being lifted up by the wind like a kite and carried away before Kole was ready.

  Sitting down cross-legged on the ground, Kole then began to piece together sections of the frame and the top post. He inserted pre-cut poles of bamboo through the sewn loops of material and secured them with the pegs, then wrapped them tightly with damp animal sinew. As the air flowed over the sinew it would dry, making the separation of the connections by accident nearly impossible.

  He slid the bamboo rods through the center holes of two wooden spheres that would act as wheels, positioning them evenly between stabilizing pegs. He then proceeded to fashion the triangular control bar that he would hang on to during his flight and affixed a comfortable leather harness that would secure him to the glider in the unlikely event that his hands slipped. The control bar would give him limited maneuverability and the bulk of his steering and guidance would come from weight shift and leg position.

  Kole used a combination of lightweight braided rope and sinew as rigging to attach his control bar to his frame, sail, props, and top post. He stood up and stretched, visually performing a safety inspection of his small craft, double-checking all of his knots and connections, confirming there were no tears or frayed areas on the wings, examining for uniform tension on his bamboo rods, and plucking each brace and cable to verify that they were harmonically sound.

  Kole then opened a pouch he had brought with him and poured into his hand a tangled ball of stickseeds and burrs. He had carefully gathered them earlier in the week and now rubbed them on the inside of his leggings. The hooks, or teeth, of the ragweed and goose grass seeds clung annoyingly to his clothing but would help him to keep his legs tightly together while in flight without the added risk or need to tie them.

  When all seemed to be in readiness, Kole said a quick but fervent prayer for his personal success and safety. It never hurt to have a moral support. The wind had picked up a bit and that seemed a good indication to Kole that it was time to go. The day was clear and the air crisp and refreshing. Kole strapped himself into his harness and adjusted the straps, cinching them in places and loosening them in others. He put his backpack on and secured it. Inside were a couple changes of clothes, some tools, food, and tradables. Kole wasn’t sure how far he would be able to fly today, but he planned on going as far as he could, due east, and it would probably be several days or weeks time to journey on foot home again. Having a few items to barter with people wouldn’t hurt.

  Untying the tethers with a quick flick of his wrists, Kole picked up the weight of the hang glider and felt the wind’s eager tug on his sail. He found a comfortable balance point with his gloved hands and only then realized how sweaty his palms were inside the doeskin. He didn’t feel nervous, but anyone not excited about a chance to fly should not be flying.

  This is it, Kole thought. He made one last quick inspection: wings, cables, knots, wind speed and direction, clear approach, visibility, grip, two fists of distance between his chest and the control bar, equipment. Everything was in perfect order. Kole started walking down the slope.

  The craft seemed heavy even though Kole had done everything he could think of to minimize the weight. The wind gusted and the glider tried to get out ahead of him. Kole picked up his pace and began to jog. No down wind, he thought. I can deal with anything but a down wind. He felt the lift of the wind under the wings already and a bright smile dawned across his face. His pace increased and twice he had to hop as the sail literally lifted him off the grass.

  His runway was about a hundred yards long, sloping downhill to the edge of the cliff. This is it, Kole thought again. No turning back now. He quickly flexed his fingers, sensing that he had been gripping the control bar too tightly. Again the craft leaped ahead of him and Kole was running, sprinting full out as fast as his legs could go. He had to keep up with the craft or it would nose down into the grass and send him tumbling. Tied to it, as he was, a strong burst of air at that wrong time, and he would spin head over heels off the side of the mountain.

  He ran a bit bow-legged too so that the burrs and stickweed seeds along the inseam of his pants would not prematurely catch the opposite leg and interrupt his timing, again possibly causing him to trip and roll the remainder of the way down the hill, then plunge to his demise. Just another one of the many enemies of today’s success.

  The feel of the air rushing past him was exhilarating but it caused his eyes to alternately water up or dry out. He blinked the tears out of his eyes and focused on his launch target, a solitary terebinth tree two or three miles from the base of the mountain in the middle of the plain. You tend to go where you’re looking Kole, he mumbled to himself. Keeping his attention fixed firmly on that goal, he was only peripherally aware of the edge of the cliff and the sheer drop off rapidly drawing near.

  Suddenly and without warning all the parts of a perfect launch came together—wind speed and direction, his angle of approach, his timing. He felt his right foot miss the ground as he took his next step. He did not glance down but kept running in midair, his strides no longer pounding the earth but seemingly running
up an invisible ramp.

  Kole couldn’t help himself and let out an elated cheer as he caught a glimpse of the last bit of ground falling behind him and the sudden vastness of the world instantly hundreds of feet below.

  He kept the control bar under his chin and made small adjustments for speed and lift, gliding safely away from the mountain before swinging into a smooth arc of movement and correcting his bearing. His legs straight back behind him were together, and he squeezed them tight, then gently tried to pull them apart. The thistles and burrs were working.

  His hands were shoulder-width apart now, loosely gripping the control bar. The wind billowed in his wings and the sun shone down through the material like a cool blue jewel. The wind had a noise and it was present but not overwhelming. Looking down upon the miniaturized earth, seeing it the way the Creator must see it from above, Kole’s throat was thick with emotion.

  It happened to him every time he flew. The incredible all-ness of it just washed thoroughly through him, exposing his raw emotions. It made him thankful that no one was there with him to see how sappy he was. Kole had never launched himself from such a high point. He was surprised but pleased to discover that he actually did have it in him to do it. Up until that very minute he had wondered if he would follow through on it.

  With a small back and forth movement of the bar, Kole made adjustments for his speed and lift. The warm air rising up from the valley floor and following the contours of the mountainside were excellent for instant elevation, but now that he was over the plains, he had to continue to search for the updrafts and ride them as high as they would take him. Otherwise, this was going to be a very short journey.

  The good thing was that only a few miles away was a ridge of hills and cliffs that led east. These Kole would follow, riding the thermals and updrafts that came off their surfaces as far as they would take him. Kole gently swung his legs left and right, maneuvering his direction. He led with his feet, followed closely by his hips, banking shallowly and turning full into the wind. The glider bucked but Kole had no panic in his chest, instinctively correcting for the variables and maintaining his course.

  It was all a matter of numbers really, Kole imparted to himself. The wind, the shape of the wings, speed, the distance, all just numbers that needed to add up. Numbers intrigued Kole, and it was one of the many things that he had delved into over the centuries. Numbers were a vital and valuable clue to the riddle of creation. Maybe even the answer.

  But if numbers were the solution to existence, then flying was the poetry of experience. Kole once again looked down at the earth, picking out landmarks that he could recognize from the air. He was surprised to see that he was almost directly above the target tree. That means that he had flown almost three miles. “Yes there,” confirmed Kole as he spied one of his giant stone mile markers down below; three miles in almost the same number of minutes. Flying was a breeze.

  The clarity of the landscape, rolling and unfolding beneath him, made him feel invincible, like he could stay up here and fly and never be touched by all the sorrow and violence down on the earth.

  But then the moment would pass, and he would experience a follow up feeling as he looked around at the vast panorama of everything and was humbled by it.

  Flying gave him perspective, not limited in meaning to just a different view of the world that he normally had to walk upon but an elevated, heightened sense of awareness that being up in the air could not fully account for. It was very like his seedvision, a sudden ability to understand texture and color, shadow and echo, meaning and feeling. To be able to discern, at least glimpse for a moment, the pattern and relationship of one created thing to every other.

  To live upon the surface of the world was to have your ears stuffed with wax and a veil pulled over your eyes. It was to miss the most remarkable facet of the world’s wonder, the interaction of its parts. Kole could not help but wonder if the Creator had actually intended man to one day be found worthy to escape all these earthbound things, to qualify to rule not only the earth but the heavens above the earth, to have dominion over the vast reaches of space and the stars. Perhaps to visit the Creator at some point in His heavenly city.

  To be given wings and invited to explore more than this small pebble of dirt floating in the void.

  Kole shook himself slightly out of his reverie and focused again upon the world around him. It would not do to be caught unawares if the wind turned. Below him were vast fields of grain and flowers. A farmer with a plow hitched to a horse was furrowing a path through one of them and as Kole’s shadow passed over him, he stopped and looked up, staring. Kole chuckled, although he may have imagined the man’s mouth hanging open in surprise.

  The land was wide and cut deeply with the dark green of woods and water. He passed over a shallow lake, and his seedvision perceived the life that swam beneath the surface. Faint tracks of road meandered among the natural contours of the land and small huts and houses dotted the shore, breaking the monotony of the wilderness with settlements.

  Kole watched as two small children darted between a barn and another building, playing a game of chase. He wondered if this was how a hawk felt before it dove down for a meal, curious and focused. Kole had yet to master the aerial acrobatics of nature’s natural flyers. Perhaps one day he would discover those secrets as well, but today he was content with his modest success of flight. It was a new thing, one that, to Kole’s knowledge, no other man had ever accomplished.

  And still, he consoled himself with a wry grin; he was not entirely at the mercy of the wind’s whims. He could to some degree steer his glider, harnessing the wind in the same way that the farmer had harnessed his horse. With a tug here and a pull there he could plow a furrow through the sky and plant the heavens with discovery. One day, perhaps, he would have a harvest of men and women able to take to the air on wings of their own making. What an incredibly breath-taking sight that would be. Words that he had written in the margins of his charts sprang to his thoughts.

  Stars are grains of salt

  Floating in the stew of space

  Seasoning my mind

  But again, Kole reigned in his daydreams and brought the glider around in a graceful swoop to catch the benefit of the wind’s shifting. He saw the thin, blue line of the Boundary River ahead of him; some called it the Euphrates, which marked the division between Cain’s descendants and Adam’s, although really they were all Adam’s descendants.

  Kole flew higher than most of the hills around him but only level with some of the more distant mountains. Far ahead on the horizon he could see the white peaks of the higher places and made minor adjustments in his heading. The cloud formations above them looked promising, but Kole tempered his enthusiasm with patience, knowing he needed to get a closer look to ascertain their full potential.

  It was his hope that there, along the walls of those majestic peaks, was where he would find the power that he needed; oceans of air with waves of wind cresting and surging along the cliff faces to carry him upon their currents into the deeper parts of the continent. He didn’t really care where he landed as long as he didn’t crash. He didn’t have a particular destination in mind. That part of the pilgrimage was either in God’s hands or random chance.

  Below him the land was familiar. He recognized several landmarks. To the southeast, slightly behind him now, was the Valley of Pride where centuries ago he and a handful of his brothers had argued over who had the right to hunt the area. And of course, not so long ago in that same valley, thousands of his brothers had slain each other over matters that, to Kole, seemed even more trivial. The valley had run red with blood in those days, and the lions that lived there, and the eagles the nested in the surrounding peaks, had picked clean the bones that had not been immediately buried. Kole swallowed the painful lump in his throat and blinked the tears from his eyes. He looked away.

  In the far distance he saw the hill wher
e he had established the monument to his brother Abel. He had gone back to the site of Cain and Abel’s last day together and there, on the low hill where Abel had sacrificed his lamb, Kole had found the strange black stone that Abel had used to build his humble altar. Kole had stood it up and cleared the ground all around it. There he had thanked the Creator for the life that Abel had been given and for the time to come when he might see his brother again. Kole had knelt on the earth and prayed these words in earnest and had then fallen into a deep sleep with his head resting on the stone.

  He had dreamed of a golden city in a golden sky at the top of golden stairs. Below the stairs a man slept and dreamed, but Kole could not see his face. Then as the sky overhead darkened, Kole saw that a new cart pulled by young oxen was being filled with golden creatures and lumps of gold and an amazing golden throne. The oxen pulled the cart down a road, turning neither to the right nor to the left, although the cart had no driver. As the road went over a small hill, the cart passed so close to Abel’s stone that Kole reached out and touched it. Immediately he heard the voice of his brother’s blood calling to him from the ground.

  “Kole,” it said, “Do not be afraid. The end draws near when we will see one another again. Time flies, and you must hurry.”

  Kole had awoken from his dream that day feeling bewildered but oddly at peace, sensing that the dream had meaning and that that meaning would be made clear to him in the future. But the last thing that Abel’s voice had said to him in the dream was really what prompted him to consider doing more than merely speculating about flight. If birds could soar, if the moon could float, if sparks could rise and time could fly, then man too must be able to rise above the dust from which he came. Kole had stored the dream in the back of his mind for further examination.