by James Murphy
In war you see things that no man should be asked to handle. James didn’t see those things to the degree Ron had, but nevertheless James spent many an hour engulfed in a rather grotesque end of the spectrum. Ron and James seemed to connect on a strange and unusual wavelength. The energy between the two was saturated in a cold hue. It was such low-frequency that it was bothersome to anyone else. Its discomfort was akin to being stared at, but James and Ron somehow found comfort in such melancholy, at least they found comfort that such melancholy could be shared. The gripping moments that brought these two men together men left them spiritually displaced. There was a moment in each man’s history filled with wild-eyed bewilderment, a moment that wrenched at the soul, hateful vibrations that could find no harmony no matter how long one looked. Thrilling and fearful moments left their mark. The thrill and the fear eternally branded them. They were left wide-eyed and white-knuckled, and were asked to function as blissful-innocents. James appeared to be an innocent victim to Ron, and James saw Ron as a victim likewise, just a bit less innocent. The fundamentals of their mentalities of life were very different, but their roads were destined to cross. They shared an honest, humble disposition, and something of a romance was in their stars for the duration of their short acquaintance. Ron ate his breakfast and the two walked to the lounge. CNN was on the television, and Ron began to talk to James.
“I’ve been in the Marines for twelve years now, and every time I watch the national news I get more and more disgusted with society.”
“There is a bunch of greedy slime in this country, and the world for that matter. That’s half the reason I’m in this place.” James replied.
“You’re right, but that’s not exactly what I mean. The people who make the decisions don’t see the dirty underbelly of their wake. I’ve gone to war for this country, and more and more it seems like it is a bunch of idiots who make all the decisions. I guess you’re right in saying that they’re greedy, but either way, that’s not what I lay my life on the line for.”
“You mean all the professionals are jaded? They have their heads up their ass?”
“Yeah, they all want their leather chairs and BMW’s, but don’t want to take a dime out of their pockets to give to the weak or the needy.”
“So we have a bunch of slimy ‘professionals’ in this country?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you were right! You seem like a smart kid, James. How did you ever end up in this place?”
“I launched an 80 pound ceramic vat through the windshield of my dad’s truck, then called the cops on myself.”
Ron laughed to himself a little bit.
“You two don’t get along?”
“No, we get along fine for the most part. He sent me off to work in a butcher shop in Montana when I turned eighteen. After spending five years covered in blood for 70 hours a week I couldn’t take it anymore and came home. My youth was a bit short-changed. That’s all I have against my dad, but there was just something about that truck. It just seemed to wreak of evil. It was something intangible that threw me over the top.”
“I hear you man. When I came back from war I had PTSD. It took me a few years to get back to normal. I still have night terrors like I dream that I am still in a hot zone. Sometimes it’s war-like dreams, but sometimes it’s spiritual. I wake up at night and it takes me a minute before I calm down.”
The two passed the day talking about the uglier aspects of life, and the solace of death. There is a bit of comfort that one faces at the end of their life knowing that they no longer have to suffer the vices of this mortal world. The realization of one’s devices pains the soul. Pain was common-ground for Ron and James. Pain puts pleasure into a frame of reference and makes pleasure something worth striving for. Pain is a product of the sacrifices made to produce luxury. We face cheats. We face greed. There is no free lunch, and nature always bats last. There is always a sacrifice required to produce luxury, and humans (and the world for that matter) are left in the balance. Those who see these sacrifices being made value resources differently. Their discretion of wind and water, people and time are seen through purer eyes. Their eyes cause them great pain, but they understand the meaning of the word harmony better than the blissfully ignorant. Whether or not they knew it, both Ron and James shared the thought “Who would I be without my pains?” Both men spent considerable time close to death. They both became callous to the idea of the end of mortal life, and spent many a pondering moment contemplating what lies beyond our mortal realm of existence. Both men welcomed the idea of passing on, but that is not to say that both men had any intention of floating through the rest of their life in somber satisfaction, physically, mentally, or spiritually. By most, death is viewed at as a gloomy pomp, a loss of vitality. For Ron and James death was the freedom to transcend from mere mortals into the great spirits that these warriors have shaped their souls into. Ron had already fought all of his battles, but James was only afoot of his. All the time spent as a witness of death made them both more comfortable with passing on, and less easy about living in the world that was built around them. Ron and James could grasp the concept of harmony. It was a world where sacrifices were proportional to the rewards. Unfortunately everyone wanted something they could hold on to, and furthermore as more was received, more was desired. Nothing was proportional. Not war, not the slaughter house, and not the Seventh Floor. Ron and James were forced into an uncomfortable reality. They were mere cogs in the mean machine that is society, and they felt trapped by the greed that surrounded them. Ron was ‘coming back to reality’ as his road in life crossed James’, but James couldn’t tell if he was coming closer to death, or getting further away from it.
As the two sat together Ron noticed a look of peace smeared across James face. He looked at the boy with admiration. He could see that something burned bright and hot inside of James. That image gave Ron hope. He saw a boy who was learning who he was. Ron believed he saw a boy who had figured out life, and faith, and happiness. Ron believed he saw a young man who had decided to hold closest to his heart the things that no one could take away. James was working on building a new heaven as he laid in this prison, this hell. Nothing important had pertinent, declared ownership. No, those things were all intangible, and no one could stake claim to them. Nirvana? James was there. Aside from Ron, everyone was puzzled and even a little uneasy about the look on James’s face. It was a look that had been frozen on his face for three days now. James finally detached himself from the evils that haunted him on the outside world. He walked away from the slaughter house in Montana, and into the Seventh Floor. He fled one tyrant just to land in the hands of another, but he no longer struggled for control in his life. He let go and let God make all the hard decisions for him. True, James was confined to the walls of the Seventh Floor, but he accepted nothing they had to offer, not the food, and certainly not the psychological authority. This place was no less hectic, or depraved of reason than the outside world, and furthermore, James couldn’t have appeared more out of place from the mayhem that existed on the slimy underbelly of the Seventh Floor. Some of the professionals saw the tranquility in James as progress, but not Dr. Chode. He saw it as defeat. James became keen to the game Chode was playing. In spite of his failure, Dr. Chode craved dissecting James’s psychology, and twisting and mashing it until James cried for mercy. No knew what to truly make of the unearthly, peaceful aura James carried.
Chapter 13
(fifth day of fasting)
James’s 15th day began with a peculiar question from Ron.
“Last night I slept the whole way through the night. That’s the first time in years that I’ve been able to do that, but I had the strangest dream. It was you, floating above a grassy knoll wearing a full Indian headdress, and when I woke up this morning I couldn’t get the words Sweet Grass Hill out of my head. Does any of that mean anything to you?”
James was baffled. He couldn’t help but think of Coyote. It was a sign that something big was brewing, and it was the best val
idation he had thus far in connection to the spirit world. James had his own exotic dreams, but another man’s dreams depicting scenes from his vision quest, the intangible things like how he felt after the peyote began to take effect baffled James. He didn’t know how to respond. Part of him wanted to cry out “Yes, I will be the great warrior of my people!” but James didn’t want to come off as psychotic, so he took his time and replied with reservation.
“Yeah I’ve been to Sweet Grass Hill.”
“What about the Indian headdress? What do you think it means?” Ron continued to question.
“Look man, there’s some things I don’t want to talk about, at least not here and now. Ya dig?”
“I feel ya man. I’ll let it go, but in my dream you had this aura about you that seemed so pure, and unified with everything that’s good. I have things I don’t want to talk about, but those things aren’t as pure and godly as the way I dreamed of you.”
“Maybe I wasn’t the man in your dreams.” James rebutted.
“No, it was you.”
James avoided Ron for the rest of the day. Ron’s dream rattled James, and James spent the rest of the day trying to collect himself. His fasting began pushing new levels of euphoria, but he started to lose that inner peace he had just a day before. He started seeing portals at the end of hallways. Bright figures glowed from the edges of windows and dark figures crept and lurched in intimidation in the shadows. Spirits were crossing over and James was only getting a glimpse of them, but it was enough to shatter any man’s conception of reality. James began to get the feeling that strange things were about to happen.
Positive and negative energy continued to come and go in cycles, but the amplitude of each episode was beginning to push James into places he had never been before. He never conceived the full magnitude of the spirit world. He had only a taste, and it appetized him. James began to think he may have bitten off more than he could chew. He didn’t know what to make of it. It was hard to maintain and find balance. He knew erratic behavior would soon follow if he didn’t make the next move. He had to get a grip on things, and returning to eating seemed like a viable path. But James vowed on his soul that he would die locked up on the Seventh Floor before he would eat another morsel of food in front of that glutton, Dr. Chode. The whole idea of a stranger envisioning him in such a way pushed James beyond the threshold of his comfort level. He was once again knee deep in the uneasy mayhem of the Seventh Floor trying to make basic social and societal connections. He paced the halls until craft-time. James walked into the craft room, and noticed a drawing one of the patients was working on. It was a picture of hearts dripping from the leaves of trees. The positive energy was flowing, but maybe just a bit too heavy for James. He took a couple of deep breaths, then pulled up a seat next to Chuck. Chuck was an old-timer who had been on the Seventh Floor since about the time James started fasting.
James asked Chuck a question, as heavy a question as one man could ask another in that situation. Neither man possessed the mental qualities that define a sane individual.
“Chuck, what do you see when you look into my eyes.”
“I see a young man with grey eyes searching for beauty, but your heart, your heart is fit for war.”
War was not what James was in search of when he launched that ceramic vat through the window of the big, red Dodge. Chuck’s words sent James staggering in fear. The uneasy feeling of the slaughter house re-developed in the pit of James’s stomach, and multiplied. He was just a boy who was asked to be more of a man than anyone he had ever met. There was no comfort in the truth. When James opened his eyes to the supernatural reality around him, Coyote’s prophecy was becoming more and more explicit. Ron, Chuck, and the Seventh Floor were hinting towards the duty James would be asked to fulfill. He had wrapped himself in the prophecy on such a superficial level that he believed himself to be noble and righteous, but he had yet to do anything noble or righteous, and as prophecy of his great battle was about to be fulfilled, James seemed to be lacking the courage he needed. James started to forget the game with Dr. Chode and walked back to his room and began to pray.
“Jehovah, you are Apistotoke, creator. Jehovah, you ar Naato’si, sun god. Jehovah, you are Ko’kimiki’somma, moon god. Jehovah, bless me with the strength to fight this battle. I know not my enemy, but it is evil. Jehovah, give me strength.”
Dr. Chode was listening to James with an ear against the closed door. When it sounded like James was done praying, Dr. Chode skulked away. He had James pinned. Dr. Chode had no idea what James was saying or praying about, but it sounded crazy enough to Dr. Chode to put James in the funny farm.
James continued to pray. “God, I know not my adversary. Give me the knowledge to know who I am fighting. Give me the strength to be your great warrior.”
Those simple prayers brought peace to James as he sat in his room and meditated for the rest of the day. He cleared his mind of all his fears. He rationalized his whole situation. The worst thing that could happen to him was death. He had spent so many hours so close to death, that it had no intimidation over him. He feared not the things he could not explain. He humbled himself and thought, “I am only a man, and there is much my mind cannot grasp.” The strange and eerie sights and feelings, he had dissolved. All the lies and fallacies of the Seventh Floor fell beneath him. Dr. Chode’s game, and the opinion of all the professionals meant nothing to James. The psychotic realities of all the patients were lost in the periphery. James transcended through everything. He passed through Nirvana and as that supreme state of peace left him, he felt strength begin to burn inside of him. It was strong but gentle, and built faith in himself. He was beginning to believe he could conquer whatever demons laid before him. The feeling James had inside of him was divine and reached out beyond our mortal dimension calling forth all sorts of spirits. They came and watched over James and began to see the transformation from a young man into a spiritual warrior.
The day passed and night fell. Ron and James went to sleep once again and when they woke in the morning Ron once again confronted James.
“I had another dream last night.”
James’s gut tightened as he gathered the strength to face whatever symbolic insight Ron was about to bestow on James.
“Let’s hear it,” James bravely requested.
“Well, at first you were sitting in a dull green room. It looked like you were sleeping, but you were upright. You had the most pleasant smile on your face, and your breathing and heart beat took a calm rhythm that seemed to last all night. After what seemed like an eternity, you slowly opened your eyes, and your stomach turned translucent. You could see a small flame in your belly. Then, you took a couple strands of twine, but this was no ordinary twine. It was alive. It pulsated with a rhythm and you sat awake and braided a rope out of this twine. As you braided, the twine pulsated harder and harder, and the fire in your belly grew bigger and brighter, and the walls of the dull green room began to turn into technicolor fractals and melted away into nothing. Do you think it means anything?”
“Maybe I’m getting stronger. Who’s to say any dream really has a definitive meaning. You, of all people, should understand that.”
“Yeah, I understand, but these dreams are so vivid, and you are the main character. It just has me puzzled. I never had dreams like this. I mean I never had good dreams like this, and never about people I hardly even know.”
James spent the rest of the day braiding his rope. He sat in his room in complete silence. The room was dark, and the only light was coming from the sun shining through the small double-paned windows. As he sat in meditation, his breathing was calm and steady, and opened his eyes on occasion. He felt a utopian glory, where everyone made the sacrifices to sustain themselves. Glory filled his soul. Reward was proportional, and harmony was present. The cycles of positive and negative energy mellowed just enough for James to match their magnitude. After a few hours he began speaking in tongues. Luckily Dr. Chode had already made his rounds for th
e day, and never witnessed this. As the Holy Spirit moved through James and he spoke gently, he felt energy pulsate, starting in his chest and belly, moving through his arms and legs and out to his fingers and toes. The energy spilt from his fingertips and cast a translucent shimmering light into the room. It rippled through the air and chased away the darkness, making it shiver in fear. It smelled pleasant, and spoke with a deep angelic voice. It was comforting to every neuron in the body. James opened his eyes once again, and began to see the power that came from within him. He felt confident in himself as the Holy Spirit fill James and spewed out from his limbs. What he saw before him validated what he was lead to believe all this time. In all the privation of the Seventh Floor James cultivated a spiritual essence that was capable of greatness. All uncertainty was gone. All his Earthly desires left him, and James knew he was ready for whatever battle laid ahead.
Over the next five days James was able to understand and embrace the waves of positive energy, and fearlessly face the waves of negative energy. It took time to become familiar with the supernatural, and furthermore James was the only man capable of such growth. The spirit within him fed on every morsel of positive energy that flowed through his prison. The rhythm of the day continued into the night, and James became the epicenter of all the vibrations. Energy brewed within him, and expelled without. All life fed from it and took notice in his direction. The negative energy was brewing, and that too took notice in his direction.