CHAPTER 11
Thura pulled her tingling hand out from under her chest and examined the specks of brownish moss pressed into the length of her arm. The smell of wood smoke and muffled chatter disoriented her. She could not quite remember where she was. Thura slowly raised her head and gently brushed the dirt off her face, which had been flat against the ground the entire night. It was not the cleanest spot she had ever slept, but she rested soundly her first night away from Patrida.
Odigo and Kaleo chatted in quiet tones and grins off to one side, but Sophia was nowhere in sight. Thura remembered she had been sitting with Sophia the night before after they had collected firewood but realized she must have fallen asleep next to the older woman right after they made the fire. The fact that Sophia had been awake when Thura fell asleep and left before Thura awoke was not surprising at all. Sophia rarely slept. At least Thura never recalled her sleeping. Sophia meditated with her eyes closed, but that was the closest thing to sleep Thura could remember. Even at that, she was always fully present and alert when spoken to.
Thura thought about the magnitude of what she had pulled off in Patrida. She rubbed her eyes and attempted to find her bearings. A part of her wanted to jump up and down and scream with joy for finally being free. However, another part of her wondered about her family and what they must be thinking and feeling.
She remembered how she used to sit at the table for dinner as a young child and hold up four fingers, smiling at her dad, mom, and Tyran. Her mom would ask her what the four fingers represented, and she would gleefully shout, “Our family!” In her little mind, there was something special about the four of them together. But that was a long time ago. So much had changed in their family dynamics since then, even over the last few days.
Thura stared at one of her hands resting on her lap. She noticed how dirty she was as she opened her hand and spat on her fingers to clean them off. Thura rubbed her thumb in a circular motion over the three largest stained brown fingers, but the dirt would not come off.
“It is pine resin,” a voice called out from behind. “You must have gotten it on your fingers while collecting wood last night.”
Thura glanced over her shoulder to see Sophia slowly limping toward her. She stood up to greet the old woman.
“It takes me a while to get moving in the mornings, but I eventually get there. These legs walked more miles last night than they have for a long time,” Sophia said, smiling while speaking loud enough for Odigo and Kaleo to hear her as well.
“Well, you kept pace with me, and that’s saying something,” Odigo added.
Sophia walked up to Thura, who was still working diligently on her fingers, and cusped the young woman’s hands with her soft, wrinkled hands.
“There are some things you have to let be,” Sophia said.
Thura looked blankly at her old friend, unsure as to what she was saying. Sophia released her hands and hobbled toward Odigo and Kaleo, who were both still standing near the humble fire they had rekindled.
“I was telling Odigo that I really need to get back to Patrida,” Kaleo said, turning toward Sophia as she approached. “I hope you know that it would’ve been a real honor for me to accompany you to Salome. And you should also know that I sure appreciate the invite. But after our conversation last night, I realized that Patrida needs me there. As much as I hate to admit it, I’ve been checked out for a long while, and I’m not sure if that was the best thing.”
“If they had treated me half the way they treated you, I would have done the same thing,” Thura said, as she joined the group around the fire. “But that is how my father has always been. Everyone is an enemy and needs to be dealt with harshly.”
“That’s not true, Thura,” Kaleo countered.
“It is true! Look at the three of you! He stood by and let them push you out of your position. He imprisoned you for nearly two decades. And he was set to execute you before I got you out of there. So don’t tell me it is not true,” Thura said as she raised her voice and became more animated, pointing at each person as she made her point.
“I understand, Thura, I do,” Kaleo said. “I’m not trying to make excuses for your dad. He’s a big boy and makes his own decisions, always has. He’s a strong personality, and it’s always been his way or no way. But you hardly knew your dad before we came to this island. The man you know now wasn’t the man I stood beside for years.”
“I do not understand how you can make excuses for him,” Thura said. “You used to be his head guard. His head guard! You were his most trusted companion and friend! But look what he did to you! They stripped you of your position, your respect, and your dignity. So tell me, should I really care who he used to be when I can see clearly who he is now?”
Thura’s question silenced Kaleo and abruptly ended the discussion. He could have told her more about the man he used to know, but Thura was not in a place where she could receive it. For all the years they had conversed on Thura’s way to visit Sophia, Kaleo had never seen this side of the young woman. Of course, he had known about her frustrations and general restlessness within Patrida, which he attributed to her unenviable position as a servant. Still, he had never heard her speak with so much bitterness, especially about her father. However, this was neither the time nor place to try changing her mind.
Attempting to break the long and uncomfortable silence, Odigo smiled and turned toward Sophia.
“Well, the path is never a straight line, is it?” he asked.
Without responding, Sophia walked over to Kaleo, placed her right hand on his cheek, and gently patted it. The man put his calloused hand over her wrinkled hand and held it against his weathered face.
“Thank you, my friend,” Kaleo offered as he turned and made his way back toward the long and circuitous route they traveled the night before.
Still smiling, this time from being a bit perplexed, Odigo tilted his head and raised his eyebrow at the older woman.
“Um. Okay. So no goodbyes?” Odigo asked. “What in the world was that all about anyway? It was like you two were having your own private conversation without words. And we were standing here like, hello?”
Odigo’s lightheartedness and injection of humor brought a much- needed change of energy to the group. Thura’s emotional eruption, coupled with Sophia’s sudden goodbye with Kaleo, left an uneasiness lingering amongst them. But Odigo had succeeded in eliciting some laughter from both women.
“My work is done here,” he exclaimed as he walked away in the same direction Kaleo had exited.
“Are you serious? What do you mean your work is done here? Are you really going somewhere?” Thura asked quizzically.
Odigo turned and faced Thura, laughing while confidently walking backward.
“I’m kidding,” he said. “But seriously, you two should get moving. I will keep a lookout to see if anyone is following us. I will catch up with the two of you a little later.”
A thin blanket of brown, dried needles covered the forest floor, providing soft footing for Thura and Sophia as they walked through the maze of scattered black pines. Despite overcast skies, the two women could tell it was not quite noon, although they had been moving for several hours without so much as a break. Sophia ambled toward a mature tree that appeared as if someone had sheared off the lower branches. It was perfect for her to sit beneath for a few minutes and catch her breath.
“Oh, how I have missed these pines,” the old woman said. “Nothing against your beautiful ocean views in Patrida, but have you ever been wrapped in such splendor, Thura? Close your eyes and breathe it in.”
Thura sat down beside Sophia with her back up against the tree and closed her eyes.
“Unless you close your eyes,” she continued, “you will never fully appreciate its splendor.”
“I don’t understand. How can I appreciate its splendor with my eyes closed?” Thura asked.
“A person can rely so much on what they see with their eyes that it becomes the only way they perceive and
understand the world,” Sophia said.
Still closing her eyes, Thura thought for a second and then attempted to clarify.
“So you are saying there is more to seeing than looking with my eyes?” Thura asked inquisitively.
“Precisely, Thura,” Sophia responded. “There is always so much more that can be seen, but rarely with your eyes. Tell me what you see.”
“I see a mix of old pine trees and saplings scattered around us,” Thura said with her eyes tightly closed. “I see their needled branches blowing in the wind. I see hundreds of ants running every which way, building their little hills. I see an eagle’s nest in one of the trees with the mother perched on it looking at us intently.”
Sophia sat in silence for several minutes with her eyes still closed. She appeared to be basking in the few rays of sunlight evading the gray cloud cover.
“You have a keen sense of knowing what is around you,” she said, breaking the silence. “That is a good first step for now. We should probably get moving.”
Sophia’s comment about it being a good first step perplexed Thura, who thought she had brilliantly, and very perceptively, described what was around them. From her perspective, which inched precariously close to a subtle arrogance, she believed the average person in Patrida would never have noticed half as much as she had. She wondered if Sophia was looking for more detail. Because if that was what she wanted, Thura could have been significantly more specific.
They were black pines with dark green needles, she thought. There were two separate sandy mounds with brown ants working at each. It was a white-breasted, brown-streaked eagle sitting atop the nest with two young eagles peeking out beside her.
“What do you mean by a good first step?” Thura asked, her mild frustration apparent. “I have always been aware of what was around me and have always noticed things others easily miss. I see the beauty of the sky and the way the sun shimmers on the waters. I notice the honeybees collecting pollen, and I appreciate their hard work in making honey. I recognize the people others have pushed aside. Were you looking for more detail? What more could I have told you?”
“Thura, sweet Thura. Yes, of course, it was a good first step,” Sophia counseled, “but we are only ever taking first steps. Even now, in my old age, I only take first steps. Do you understand what that means?”
“I don’t think so,” Thura said.
“No one can be any farther along on this journey than another,” Sophia said. “We are all students, always taking our first step together into greater knowing. But in that first step, the vastness of what we do not know becomes even more apparent. It is a strange and humbling paradox. That is why this road of knowing for a humble student never ends and why we are always taking first steps together, Thura.”
“I am not sure I completely understand everything you just said, Sophia. But if you are still a student, then I cannot be anything but a student either, right?” Thura said with a smile, looking out of the corner of her eye at the old woman.
Sophia did not move or respond. Her heavy lids remained peacefully closed. The expanding and contracting of her chest was nearly imperceptible. Thura could not discern whether her friend was in deep meditation or if she had actually died while Thura was talking to her.
“Sophia?” Thura quietly asked.
“Yes?” Sophia whispered.
“I just wanted to make sure you were still with me,” Thura said.
“I am here. Are you with me?” Sophia asked with intention.
“Yes, of course,” Thura replied but then paused. “Um. I know we have to get moving, but what is my next first step, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Still in a profoundly meditative posture, Sophia responded in a low monotone voice.
“Look at your three largest fingers,” she said.
Thura curiously turned over her hand and, with intense scrutiny, examined the fingers she had so vigorously attempted to clean earlier in the morning.
“What do you see when you look at those fingers?” Sophia asked.
“Stains,” Thura said.
“Is that really what you see, Thura?” Sophia asked.
“Well,” Thura began, “you told me it was pine resin from…”
“From a pine tree,” Sophia interrupted. “Is pine resin bad or good?”
Thura looked again at her three fingers but did not say a word. An immense heaviness expanded throughout the area behind Thura’s ribcage, resulting in the unmistakable sting of saline in her eyes. The heaviness, unsatisfied with occupying only space in Thura’s chest, began to creep upward and tighten around her neck, forcing out tears that fell like cleansing waters onto her stained fingers. While the young woman was not entirely sure where Sophia was going with her questioning, she realized she might not be ready for another first step.
“You see, Thura, what we see is not nearly as important as how we see,” Sophia counseled. “While our first impulse is to always judge and label certain things as bad and other things as good, what if in the process of judging and labeling everything, we miss seeing what truly lies beneath the surface?”
Thura wiped her eyes but continued to look at her three fingers.
“Take the pine resin, for example,” Sophia continued. “We never see it unless a pine tree is injured or broken. But then, it moves from within and works for the repairing, healing, and general well-being of the tree at the right time when the tree needs it.”
“This isn’t about the pine resin, though, is it?” Thura asked, although she knew the answer to her question. “This is about how I see people in Patrida and how I see my family.”
“Keep going,” Sophia gently coaxed.
“I see myself as someone who has figured out what I want and what I do not want for my life,” Thura admitted. “I see myself as more enlightened than my family. So much so I view them as lost causes, especially my father.”
Thura put her hands in front of her face, while Sophia was content letting Thura’s last words sit with them. At last, the young woman continued.
“I only see their stains and blemishes and believe they are deserving of my judgment. I refuse to see the possibility of anything good within them. I am no different than anyone in Patrida who threw mud at me during my atonement ceremony and demanded that I say there was nothing good in me,” Thura said.
This moment was the first time Thura had ever really looked at herself in this way. Before her conversation with Sophia, she had only been able to see her rightness and everyone else’s wrongness. Her goodness, and everyone else’s blemishes. But there was a more incredible irony in what she discovered. Thura realized the self-righteousness she so despised in Patrida was the same self-righteousness by which she judged her own family.
In an attempt to not end on a down note with Thura, Sophia gently coaxed her again.
“But you are learning that … ”
“I am learning that we are all taking first steps and that I am right there with them,” Thura said, finishing Sophia’s sentence. “They are students just as I am and just as you are.”
“And even though our first inclination is to see their stains,” Sophia added, “there is something that lies below the surface of everyone that continues to work toward our healing and wholeness. Not just mine, not just yours, but their healing and wholeness, as well.”
This time it was Sophia’s eyes that glistened when she opened them and faced Thura. The old woman reached for Thura’s hand and held it with the palm up, grasping Thura’s fingers with her other hand.
“It’s so easy to see stains, Thura,” Sophia said. “But it takes grace and patience to see the possibility of wholeness in people and to not give up on them.”
“Is that how you survived for so long imprisoned in Patrida?” Thura asked.
“Yes, it was,” she said. “Anger, resentment, and pride can keep a person imprisoned. I had to find that deep reservoir of peace for myself before I could see anyone else differently. It was that peace, that deep abidi
ng source that works for our good, Thura, that allowed me to first talk to you. While it would have been easier to hate you for what your father did to us, that peace helped me see you differently. I was able to see your beauty and humanity.”
Thura put her other hand on top of Sophia’s and squeezed it firmly.
“I know you are in this place as well, Thura,” Sophia continued. “I could see it in you when you stood outside the prison door in that soft, yellow light coming from the oil lamp and said you were Dipsa. I saw your potential. You are not satisfied with jugs of water someone else attempts to fill up for you. You long for depths and abundance into which only you can dive headfirst. That is where you will find freedom, Thura.”
“But you were able to discover that for yourself when you were imprisoned!” Thura said. “What hope do I have? I have been imprisoned in Patrida my whole life, and it did not come close to giving me the same sense of freedom. It did not make me want to stay there a second longer. The best I could do was light every candle and lamp in my house as an act of rebellion. Nothing changed in me at all except my resolve to get out of there. The truth is that my so-called prison only made me bitter and resentful, and ultimately judgmental toward the community and my family.”
“Do you hear yourself, Thura?” Sophia asked. “That is not your truth at all. You are focusing on what you see and not on how you are seeing. Truth is not what you see on the surface of things. Truth is the underlying reality of all things. It is that which holds all things together and animates all life and gives it all the same value. Do you understand?”
Thura continued listening, as she knew the old woman had so much more to say.
“It cannot be earned or owned or labeled,” Sophia continued. “It is that which can’t be hidden, that which refuses to be concealed. This underlying truth of reality is always trying to break through the surface and manifest to all. This truth is divine love, Thura. But it is not something you go to find. It is that which has already found you and accepted you as you are. When the ocean surrounds you, you dive into it.”
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