Gaia

by Jeff Gardiner

  This experience left me elated. Impulsively, we kicked off our shoes and socks, then I stepped onto his feet. The same thing happened. They turned into one viscous runny mass right up to the ankles; toes and heels no longer distinct. So our roots entwined and enmeshed. As did our thoughts and each other’s self-awareness.

  My head slowly tipped further into Luke’s. Sideways. Until our faces met and I entered his liquid skull as if I swam underwater, except that I had also become part of the ocean. I no longer knew if we were two separate people. I was inside him and he was inside me, concurrently.

  Only our clothes kept us apart. We couldn’t meld with material between us, only when naked skin touched skin.

  My eyes stopped working in the way I was used to. I no longer “saw” in the conventional way. Instead, images flicked through my mind; some familiar and expected, others random and from beyond me. Were they Luke’s? Or from someone else further off? It was hard to tell at times. I was aware of Luke’s presence, and our togetherness brought me a great deal of fulfilment. United we were strong. Perfect. Complete.

  Once we began to untwine and separate, I was hit with a feeling of unexpected melancholy. If only we could have stayed like that forever. But all things must end. Our heads unfolded and slipped back into position, with my sight and hearing readjusted to normal. I stepped out of his feet; veins, flesh, bone and nails knitting back together and solidifying once more. My hands emerged and slowly reformed into their usual shape – slender and long.

  It was a mystical experience.

  We shared this experience many more times; as if consuming each other with a cannibalistic passion. We learnt how to switch it on and off, otherwise every time we touched we would literally melt. When we walked together we held hands, sharing secret giggles and unspoken understandings. Those moments became the highlights of a life already well-lived – memories to treasure.

  ‘I so love our sharing times, Luke. There is nothing more wonderful to me. I am lucky to have something and someone as special.’

  ‘I feel the same, Ala.’ Luke touched my face softly, warily. Two solids met without sinking into each other. I breathed a sigh of relief. He touched my lips delicately with his thumb and I stroked his arm encouragingly.

  And then he kissed me. Gently at first – inexperienced and exploratory. I responded with my own mouth and hands, which spurred him on to greater hunger and enthusiasm.

  We turned into liquid. Shiny surfaces brushing smoothly together; mimicking each other’s shape – curling and curving different ways in unison. At first we were two pools separated as if by a thin film of oil, but as we swayed and twisted over, under, round and along, molecules of us seeped together, mixing and unifying, diluting and expanding until all of my being and all of Luke became a single essence of life. It was my destiny. My Chi. My reason for living.

  We abandoned ourselves to that singularity. No other time or place or person or thought mattered any more.

  It was an epiphany. A revelation.

  It was here that we met Gaia.

  Not a god or goddess ‘out there’ beyond us. Not a spirit of nature hiding in trees or lakes. Not even a mother, whatever Guy had said. Gaia is everything. Everyone. All time and space. And so are we. Gaia is me. Gaia is Luke and Falco. Gaia is all creatures and plants and elements. All of creation. Gaia is inside us and outside. Gaia is around us.

  ‘The key to Gaia is to have no preconceptions,’ Luke spoke with that glint of excitement in those eyes that I loved so much. ‘We must unlearn everything we have been taught. That’s what Guy told me once. We all use language to help us understand things impossible for our minds to otherwise grasp. Language cannot contain the infinite. If gods and spirits help you, then fine. If not, then that’s OK too. Gaia is me and you. All people and all nature. It’s a thought, a belief, a wisdom. Perhaps Gaia is love and compassion. Maybe it’s instincts, genetics, or even our collective consciousness. All I really know is that Gaia is more than our limited human minds can ever really fathom.’

  ‘Just like people.’ I intended no irony with this statement. Most of us are horribly complicated and impossible to understand at times.

  ‘Yes. Because we are Gaia.’

  ‘That’s the best way to think of Gaia. Not as an outside force, but as part of us …’

  ‘All of us,’ Luke said with a faraway frown. ‘Imagine what we could achieve if we all conjoined.’

  ‘How do we get everyone to agree?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Maybe it doesn’t need to be absolutely everyone,’ I suggested. ‘All numens would be a good start.’

  ‘Plus any others who sympathise and follow our cause.’

  ‘What exactly are we hoping for?’

  Luke continued to stare into the distance. ‘I’ve absolutely no idea.’

  ‘What religious people might call a “leap of faith”?’

  ‘Something like that, but without all the guilt that goes with it.’

  ‘And certainly no talk of heaven and hell,’ I added.

  ‘No judgement at all. The only thing in common is a concept of love and peace.’

  ‘Those are the best qualities of any faith or belief system. They are all we need. It’s such a shame that so many religions seem to forget those basic truths.’

  Luke took my hand and stroked my arm. ‘You are a wise woman, Ala. The mistake I made was in thinking it was all down to me. I was stubborn and selfish, wanting all the glory. I thought I could heal the world and be its saviour. How wrong I was.’

  ‘It’s not down to any one person,’ I said, understanding him fully. ‘It’s the responsibility of every single one of us … together.’

  ‘But it needs us – humans – to see the truth, which is that we are not the masters of this planet. Neither are we servants to some creator. Nature is everything and we are a significant part of it – but only a part. One unit that makes up something much greater.’

  Luke wrapped his arms around me and I enjoyed being squeezed and rocked for a few precious moments. As we stood there in gentle motion to and fro I tried to plan how we could get so many people together. Would they all have to be in the same place or would remote conjoining work as well? Once united, what, exactly, would we have to do? For what purpose?

  It felt so frustrating. We were nearly there and yet … not quite.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘I want to try something with my mum. Will you help me?’

  ‘Of course, my love.’ I reached out to Luke and wanted to merge with him. I’d become addicted to its sensations. He lifted his hand quickly to parry mine, then placed his fingers round my wrist, and kissed the back of my limp, compliant hand.

  ‘My mum needs us.’

  I nodded and we flew off together.

  When he knew we were coming, Arthur had an arrangement with Luke to leave a window open for us to fly into a spare room where there’d be clothes and other items to help us freshen up. It cut out the usual awkwardness.

  I sat chatting with Arthur while Luke went in with Sally. I could hear her raised voice and his calming tones.

  ‘Go in and see what you can do. Ignore Luke if he tells you to leave, he needs your help more than he realises,’ Arthur said, like the wise man he was.

  I did, and Luke didn’t argue with me.

  Instead we merged with each other and then with Sally. She struggled at first and her anger and confusion were apparent. We held her down physically while Luke tried to teach her what Guy had taught him a few years ago – a kind of crash-course. He was trying to help her find her numen because we knew that the transformation process brought with it healing and wholeness. But Sally resisted, due in part to her mind being so confused.

  ‘She has to want to learn for it to work, and then to practise changing.’ Luke kicked at the sofa. He wanted to help her to experience various aspects of nature, just as Guy had ‘trained’ him, but each lesson became a step too far; too alien for her mind to conceive in any
sensible way. Those things would be enough to drive anyone mad, let alone a poor muddled lady with early Alzheimer’s.

  While Vriksha and Hudor searched for Gene, Luke and I were invited to visit Singapore by its government to see the way the city had incorporated nature. Like Malaysia, Singapore had suffered some terrible storms, but had managed to escape too many tragedies. The design of the city had helped pre-empt disaster, which was why we were visiting. The gardens by the bay were a wonderful revelation of creative and environmental thinking. In the gardens overlooking the city is a grove of giant beautiful structures called ‘supertrees’ up to fifty metres high, which had been filled with plants and greenery to help absorb carbon dioxide and to create cleaner oxygen for the city-dwellers. There were lights in the structures and walkways to view them from, for a closer look.

  We agreed that this was an ingenious idea, and one that other governments and city councils could look at copying and adapting.

  We started to wonder what other cities could teach us about caring for the environment, and were deeply happy to discover that Reykjavik led the world in the utilisation of geothermal and hydropower sources of energy. All that volcanic activity was not going to waste. They had also successfully experimented with hydrogen-fuelled buses on a scale that could be copied in many places around the world. All it really needed was a sense of vision and some determination.

  Some cities had experimented with creating a more efficient public transport, reducing the use of cars, like in Bogota in Columbia. We witnessed what they call ‘car-free Sunday’ when all the main city highways are closed between 7 a.m. and 2 p.m. People loved it, and it made the city much safer. Their ‘Transmilenio’ buses were a wonder to behold; each had the capacity to hold one hundred and sixty people, run on dedicated lanes, and the bus stops were on elevated sections. The price was the same for any journey and even free from some of the poorer suburbs. It wasn’t easy to organise though, we were told by the proud mayor: ‘Especially seizing control of the old private bus companies from the filthy hands of the mafia. But it goes to show what politicians can do when they are determined and have a long-term plan that actually cares about people and the planet.’

  The guy very quickly became a new hero of ours.

  Curitiba in Brazil planted 300,000 trees, helping to reduce flooding and pollution. Adelaide completed a programme to plant three million trees. Freiburg, Germany was leading the world in its innovative use of solar power and waste management initiatives. And then there were Milan’s incredible vertical forests: tower blocks designed to hold trees and plants: like roof gardens gone mad. It was pure genius and yet so simple. Other cities were now copying this fantastic idea, creating urban ecosystems. We couldn’t stop people building homes and offices, but we could design them with nature, plants and animals in mind. Rather than destroying other species, we should share our environment with them.

  Even in the UK, with its short-sighted governments, some cities were using their initiatives, such as Edinburgh, Newcastle, Coventry and Brighton. These were the tiny threads of hope we were desperately searching for.

  Was the world listening? Had we reached a point where our message was finally being heard and making the difference we had always hoped to make? Not everyone had changed, of course. The groups and places we visited were leading the way, as some big corporations still defied sense by continuing to pursue less environmentally-friendly routes. Not all governments backed us either. There was still plenty of work to do. But hope still motivated us.

  While we were on our travels we tried to detect any sign or trace of Gene. Where the hell was he? What was he playing at? Who was he exactly?

  Each time Luke and I became one we discovered that ‘we’ – was I still me when this happened? – grew stronger and stronger. We tried at least once a day. Luke insisted that this was a gateway to Gaia. Our oneness – our unity – was the key to reaching our final goal. This was why Guy had chosen Luke. It became easier to merge, and we could do it just by holding hands. But we enjoyed it even more when embracing, as we absorbed each other fully. I had access to his memories and dreams: his fears and ambitions. I felt his love for me and for the entire world. One of his strongest and recurring memories was of him being surrounding by clamouring crowds wanting to touch him and be healed. I heard his echoing scream, appealing and desperate: ‘I’m not who you think I am! I can’t help you!’ His insecurity and oppression struck me clearly. Falco wasn’t an arrogant demagogue, he was a frightened little boy. But even though he was entirely out of his depth and overwhelmed by the needs of others, he still wanted to help and attempt to be strong for them. This vulnerability and compassion made me love him even more.

  We allowed others in too: Vriksha and Hudor; Conda and Mona, plus others we trusted. As a single entity we conjoined with larger groups, finding that hundreds and thousands of minds working together, in unity, could achieve powerful thoughts as well as improve our physical and mental ability. This was all set up through the different communities around the world and through all connections made with the Gaia Foundation.

  I only have human-created words to explain it. Natural instinct or a collective consciousness allowed us to understand a million new thoughts and ideas at once. We all understood how to fly, burrow, hunt, grow, die, resurrect, recycle, petrify, fossilise, breed, nurture, migrate, live forever, survive extreme weather conditions, how to transform through explosion and violent change or through painfully slow adaptation over millions of years. I knew how to heal myself and how to protect myself and others; how to use plants and substances around me to improve my own life and health. I saw purpose in all things. Nothing is wasted – not one molecule or quark.

  As one entity or life-form we had abilities I couldn’t fully understand, and yet I knew how to manipulate space and time to achieve what I wanted. It was as if I could see everything at once. A million feelings coursed through me and yet I felt I could control them. I was not isolated or alone – but a part of something, however overwhelming and mysterious.

  The greater the number that merged with us, the more sentient and powerful we became. Thousands, and then millions, of us conjoined, physically and emotionally. We were almighty. Omnipotent. Godlike. Divine. If there is a god – or goddess – then it isn’t external, out there, beyond us in a heaven. It is in us. It is us. Not singular, or in just one person, but in all of us, when we are together.

  We are not made – if we are created – to be alone. We are here to work in unison; not just with a few of our own species, but in a symbiotic relationship with every single element in, on and around our planet. Beyond that even …

  We humans are finite and mortal and so we can only think in physical or metaphorical terms. That is our greatest weakness. Those who think metaphysically often get bogged down with petty, political or religious creeds and rules. Or they are distracted into having to believe in, and worship, a god that must be a bit like us. What we need to do is think more laterally, ‘outside the box’. When we create gods we always make them in our image and they seem to get jealous and angry and judgemental – even when the religion of that god teaches us not to be judgemental. How does that work? Forget god outside us: try god within us. Within all of us. And forget the word ‘god’ too because it’s so full of preconceived ideas already that it needs to be discarded. ‘The divine’ is better. A shared soul or spirit. It’s a spark. A sense of life – love even. That life and love is shared.

  That’s about the only way I can explain it all.

  And that sharing should not only be between humans either, as if we’re the favoured, elevated species, but when we understand our place in nature and ‘creation’ – for want of a better word – as guardians and protectors of the planet, not its masters. We have no right to own, possess, destroy, exploit, stain, damage, pollute, excavate, build over, fracture, or to blow up this beautiful world. We can only talk in metaphors and clichés but they often contain great truths, and one saying that comes to my mind is
‘Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’ How foolish it is to destroy the very planet we depend upon for life itself. We breathe oxygen which is produced by trees. What do we do? We cut down billions of trees and fill the air with poisonous, choking fumes. The most precious resource on Earth is our water; without it we would all die within days, and yet we pump more poisons into our rivers and lakes, when some nations have very little or no water themselves. The same with food: it has become a commodity; a product to make a fat profit, so that greedy entrepreneurs can invest and save up riches that most people can only dream about. I’ve never understood how we justify ownership of land, animals, plants or water. Nobody owns these things! They are free gifts for all. Our selfishness and greed has gone unchecked for too long and it’s time to stop.

  In symbiosis with millions, we celebrate our togetherness. Millions of voices can be heard – or at least detected or understood. But those million voices whisper, shout and reverberate as one. It is my voice, their voices, and also the voice of another at once. Even then, it isn’t really a ‘voice’, because the senses become irrelevant, but it is hard to find words to describe the new sensation of knowing. Perhaps that is the seventh sense; or the one true sense. We have no words to describe this completely new experience and sensation. There is no precedent or comparison that does it justice. Humanity is changing beyond recognition and we are the first to travel on this extraordinary journey. How privileged we are.

  It took many hours after each experience to try to put what had happened into words that communicated something meaningful. What we’d been through as numens was already strange and almost impossible to describe, but this new wonder transcended language completely. It reminded us how limited our own understanding of life really is … but also how precious and wonderful it all is.