by Dan O'Brien
The Lonely sighed.
“Indeed, I am searching for the deeper meaning of my being.”
“To what end and purpose I would ask,” challenged the Wicker Man as lightning struck closer to the clearing.
“I do not wish to have an argument of peace and purpose once again. Ilori exhausted my patience relating to that topic matter.”
“Understandably so, however, that was not my question,” replied the Wicker Man.
The Lonely turned away from the mountains.
The Wicker Man held a wisdom that seemed more the part of mimic than sage. The smell of approaching rain was strong in his nostrils and the Lonely inhaled deep before he spoke again.
“What then was your question?”
“Why do you wish to know who you are? What is it about that answer that will help you understand who you are?”
The Lonely swiped his hand through the air in frustration.
“I do not understand. I told Ilori that I seek peace and purpose…”
The Wicker Man interrupted him, shaking his head furiously.
“My question was not about purpose. What I would like to know is how do you think your existence would change if you knew who you were?”
The Lonely gave the Wicker Man a puzzled look.
“It would make a difference if I were a tyrant or if I had changed the world for the better. It would matter if I was a hero or a villain.”
The Wicker Man snapped his fingers and smiled.
“Precisely. You are here wandering and asking questions because part of you wonders whether you are atoning for past deeds. You are curious whether or not your life was dominated by good or evil?”
“Good or evil?”
The Wicker Man seemed much more animated now than when he had first approached the Lonely. “Perspective is at the core of each of these questions, for one man’s good is yet another man’s evil. Morality is often confused with goodness, as religion is so often believed synonymous with spirituality.”
“There are some things that transcend perspective, some acts that are good and evil,” declared the Lonely as he shook his head, a testament to his resolve.
The Wicker Man spread his hands wide.
“Please expound.”
The Lonely furrowed his brow at the Wicker Man’s disbelief.
“I….”
“Is war evil?” challenged the Wicker Man with a shrug of his shoulders.
“War is a part of who we are. There will always be more wars, for men will always desire more. People will find meaning and connection where it is of most use to them. There will always be differences of opinions. Each of us believes our ideology is the best for all regardless of the fact our enemy believes the same thing of his campaign.”
The Wicker Man nodded. “You are correct from a certain point of view. However, some people would argue that violence is evil and to them, according to their perspective, war is evil.”
The Lonely crossed his arms.
“That is their choice.”
The Wicker Man nodded.
“Indeed, it is their choice to believe as they wish, but does that choice not arise because they have freedom to believe. Can war not serve as a means to secure the beliefs of those who do not believe in war?”
The Lonely shook his head.
“Freedom and peace do not necessitate war.”
“How can we know what peace is if we have not experienced war? Can we know freedom without bondage and repression?” challenged the Wicker Man.
“By your reasoning, how can we know life without death? Does that mean to truly understand how we lived, we would have to understand the truth of our existence?” asked the Lonely.
The Wicker Man smirked.
“Would we indeed?”
“Why am I called the Lonely? Why would Ilori not tell me my name?”
“What is truly in a name? You were quick to say that the Lonely was only your name, not who you are. Would it have mattered if the Burning Man had told you yet another name?”
“Perhaps it would have told me something about why I am here. If I have another name, then there may be something else to me other than this wandering,” replied the Lonely, flinching as lightning struck much closer now.
“Would knowing why you are here truly give you insight into your purpose? That is the question that should plague you. A name leads to a life, a life to a purpose. Is life a precursor to purpose or is purpose the guiding post of life?”
The Lonely was beginning to see the circular reasoning presented by the totems. They each had an agenda. As much as his journey was a search for answers, so too was their questioning a birth of representation.
“I thought that purpose was not the focus of your argument, but instead that of perspective? That you sought to give meaning to the search itself, not the end product?”
“Indeed, that was my focus, but you are burdened by purpose. You seek it in every step, with every breath. Whether or not I would want to know your musings upon the meaning of your journey, it is you who searches for purpose, for a higher understanding.”
The Lonely stepped forward, examining the bruised skies, pregnant and swollen with the storm that would threaten the home of the Wicker Man.
“Each of you are constructed to lead me to some level of comprehension, or enlightenment. The Frozen Man was to witness logics, hard reasoning. The Burning Man, Ilori, existed to elucidate the knowledge that cold logical thought without passion was ludicrous. You seem content with grayer shades of their ideologies. Is this the nature of this realm, to obfuscate things to such a point that I doubt everything?”
The Wicker Man nodded, folding his arms neatly over one another. The Lonely continued undeterred by the Wicker Man’s solemn gaze.
“One contradicted the other. One possessed a deeper understanding of their reasoning of thought. However, it could easily be argued that the lesser words do not necessitate limited understanding and a great oration does not conclude of a great mind and wisdom.”
The Wicker Man remained impassive, in waiting.
“Continue. I can sense judgment upon your lips yet.”
“I am in the presence of the Wicker Man and again I am confronted with a conflicting viewpoint, though hauntingly similar to that of the others. I have yet one to go and I fear that even the wisdom of the East will not answer the calling in my being. So, I present you a question: what is your purpose, Wicker Man?”
A devious smile spread across the Wicker Man’s lips.
He looked upon the Lonely bemused.
“A probing question indeed. What is my purpose?”
The Lonely nodded.
Crossing his arms, he listened carefully to the Wicker Man, though not before expounding.
“The question of purpose once again, I fear.”
“My purpose, though I despise the word for its ambiguous nature, is tied to your purpose. My being is such that it is meant to be here; though, it is equally true that you could not be here in this exact place if I were not present. The nature of our existence is such that we could not exist simultaneously at this moment without the presence of both of us. So, it goes without saying that we are irreversibly connected, as you are to all the totems.”
“That is an empty existence, to live only because you must. I fear that you have yet to answer my question completely. It goes without question that for us to communicate here at this moment, that we both must be here and that we could not do so without those conditions. Do you have a purpose that is not attached to my journey? What are you seeking during your duty as the Wicker Man? At this point, I am beginning to see that we were all someone else before we came here.”
The Wicker Man smiled again.
“Indeed. My prior being, that is if we are agreeing that there was a place before this, was such that I was something before and may perhaps be something beyond this. Additionally, what I was before may have been precisely this or could have been that I was separate from the entity and perspect
ive of this creation: Wicker Man. However, my previous being is irrelevant to the present. My past does not influence whether or not I am here, for I am here. Previous conversations are irrelevant to this one, as they do not exist simultaneously and such are infinitely different from one another without question.”
“So, there was a place before this and perhaps another after this one? That is what has been revealed to me, the possibility that I was something before even though you would have me believe that my previous existence has no bearing on this journey. If I want to understand that life, does it not mean it holds some sway over me?” queried the Lonely.
“That is a question of purpose once again. My purpose is to be here and answer your questions with the perspective of the Wicker Man and the West: democracy, equality, individualism, religiosity, romantic love. These are all truths of the perspective of the West––of the Wicker Man. Am I separate from them? Not here, therefore not ever, as forever is defined only within this frame of reference and cannot be bound by the simplicity of this individual existence.”
The Lonely felt pressure in his chest, a tightening that he did not understand.
It felt like death.
“My breath, it is weak.”
The Wicker Man’s jovial face slipped into a grimace.
“That is the price of comprehension here. Sometimes, you become so consumed by the truth that it pulls at your physical being, ripping at it like a beast in the dark.”
The Lonely shook his head and breathed out.
“These words of the West, are they not like the reasoning of the other totems? Am I meant to find the flawed nature of the arguments and from that achieve a higher level of comprehension?”
The Wicker Man had taken on a somber tone.
The sky above threatened a terrible storm, rumbling as if it were a creature waiting for its prey in the dark.
“You will come to find that the beliefs of any one man are flawed simply because, to believe wholeheartedly, you must abandon objectivity and find the truth in your beliefs.”
“A dedicated man cannot possess objectivity?”
“Dedication and objectivity are not synonymous. That what had been true in the past, might not yet prove true for those who occupy the world. Tradition is not an appropriate model for truth, just as devoutness does not necessitate blind belief.”
“Those who choose to believe something as truth, whether or not that belief is true, abandon the ability to reason. They can no longer objectively examine anything. That is what I had come here to understand. The very essences of the conversations of the two totems previous were constructed so that I may come here and understand how each abandons the ability to see the truth completely,” replied the Lonely.
“Truth is,” answered the Wicker Man. “It cannot be doubted, explained, or made to be understood. The truth of things is that they are. Existence exists regardless of our ability to understand it. Oceans churn and skies rupture whether or not we know them to be sea and clouds. Giving names to things and finding solace in belief are shadows and mirrors of the absoluteness and abstractness of the truth.”
“I….” the Lonely shook his head exasperatedly. “This, though enlightening, is not the answer to my questions.”
“Nor are they meant to be. You had said you have puzzle pieces, but do not know how the picture appears. This is yet another piece to be considered and evaluated.”
“Then my time here is done,” spoke the Lonely definitively.
The Wicker Man nodded as lightning struck again, its roar deafening. The bright light of its departure made the Lonely turn away, shielding his eyes.
Confluence
The Lonely opened his eyes, seeing that the Wicker Man was no more. He had imagined no less.
“I fear that each of these visits only compounds my confusion further,” spoke the Lonely, hanging his head and shaking it slowly.
The Crossroads appeared now like a ghost, a shadow of himself. Haunting azure eyes watched the Lonely.
“Is that not the way of life? More confusion with each step. Every choice, every repercussion, all of them meaningless when calculated together as if they were one.”
The Lonely sighed.
“That may yet be truth, but I still cannot help but feel as though the Wicker Man held back from me a truth that I was supposed to realize. This journey is crafted so that at each step I question everything and believe nothing. Is that the nature of life? Is that the meaning I search for? That there is inevitably no connection, all of it happenstance?”
The Crossroads turned.
His shimmering figure seemed to collapse upon itself, drawing the attention of the Lonely. Where before there had been a horizon was now only space. Deep blackness and distant stars cascaded past the pair as if they were moving at an incredible speed.
“Space?” echoed the Lonely.
“Is that not an answer?” queried the Crossroads, his deep sockets of blue resonating with a power that the Lonely had not previously seen in him.
“Space is an answer?” replied the Lonely, reaching his hand out to touch the darkness that shuddered around him.
“Knowledge of space is perhaps an answer. Were you a barbarian from a primitive period you may have panicked or not so simply referred to the stars and infinite darkness as space. Is this knowledge not an answer to some things?”
“It does not tell me who I am,” spoke the Lonely.
“Nor would I have believed that it was capable of answering such a question. Perhaps a broad understanding was never the intention of this journey. The pursuit of knowledge of oneself might be a much more limited endeavor. Though, to find one’s self is as profound a journey as one could set out upon. A smaller scope for a broader question,” resonated the Crossroads, his feet now hovering above the ground.
“Perhaps that is true. But if it were, would there yet be another for me to see?” questioned the Lonely in a low voice, feeling the palpable tendrils of tension stroking his chin.
The Crossroads had undergone a metamorphosis.
Blue twinkling embers of brilliant light illuminated him. Hints of reds and oranges electrified the Crossroads as he moved.
“I imagine not. There is much about life that we cannot understand, pieces that will go unexplained beyond mortal lives.”
“But this is not a mortal life.”
Shards from the passing darkness crashed into one another, a radiant display that resembled a form of abstract art more than the genesis of a being.
“Ah, but to know that there is mortality and immortality is to know that there are at least two worlds. If you believe that this world is not a mortal world, then you are implying that there was a life before, are you not?”
The Lonely had come to understand as much.
“This might be death or the other one not truly life, but there was a place before. And what I did there is of consequence, for it is why I wander here searching for answers that may not yet have questions.”
“Ah, your purpose for both the before and the now. That is yet what you search for,” answered the Crossroads hollowly.
“It is.”
“Then, go forth to the final destination. Find the Translucent Man and ask him your questions, search out these answers,” returned the Crossroads, turning his glare upon the Lonely. “I warn you, the answers you seek may only form more questions. If the words of the final totem are not sufficient, you will find yourself alone.”
“Alone?” spoke the Lonely. “Am I not already alone?”
The Crossroads shook his head, his pale outline blending into the darkened space around them.
“There was I and the totems, each one of us has undergone your inspection.”
“Yes, I know the ways close each time. But I still return here, do I not?” asked the Lonely.
“You will not again see me, for upon completion of the East you will no longer need me here. My presence here was only to provide you with the four directions and a place to make that deci
sion. When you meet with the Translucent Man, I can no longer remain here,” spoke the Crossroads.
“Why? I do not understand this. If I must find my answers with the Translucent Man, then why the process of each totem? Why not approach him first?”
“That is a question that is truly a step back in the understanding of this realm. Had you begun differently perhaps it would have been a different totem upon completion. But as it was, you did not,” answered the Crossroads.