3q2u - Absolution

Absolution

Irene, Ben and I had taken a long long trip. We had traveled by boat, by plane, by ferry, by bus, and hiked into this beautiful dusty South Pacific hideaway. It had taken several weeks of travelling, and we were exhausted but happy to have arrived.

The reason: Thomas J Williams.

When we arrived, we were shown to our rooms. The day’s events: The beach, the tour of the island, a walk along the towering cliffs which over looked the ocean and the small resort carved out of the base of the cliffs. Our rooms were at the top, and we stayed in adjacent quarters with Williams.

We had been at the beach snorkeling, and Williams was entertaining a young red bikini clad girl with his conversation. He had somehow managed with words to convince the girl (who was striking) to remove her bikini top, as he explained that nature was meant to be unclothed, and that she was only doing herself an injustice by being clothed. She sat in the water next to us half naked, listening to his stories, when we saw a magnificent blue fish glide into the bay. It was nearly 12 feet long, and no one noticed it except myself, Thomas, and a Japanese snorkeler who was out in the middle of the bay. I was appalled when Thomas told me it was a mother shark, swimming so close to the beach in water that was only waist deep. It slipped closer and closer, growing in size, and we watched this magnificent creature glide between the unaware legs of swimmers and tourists wading in the water. Then I noticed that the Japanese snorkeler was swimming towards it with a harpoon gun, and I jumped up along with Williams to shout “Stop! Stop! Don’t shoot! It won’t hurt anyone!!” The fish swam into shore unaware of the pursuer, and finally, the Japanese snorkeler stuck his head out of the water, and noticed us waving and shouting, “No! NO! STOP!” and he realized he was being watched, and stopped.

The fish came to the edge near us, and one pale skinned German boy reached out and touched it’s blue skin. We all watched terrified, but the fish just swam back towards deeper water, and the German boy started to shiver and passed out. He became stiff as a board, and started having a seizure. People hovered around, and I noticed he was foaming at his mouth. Someone took his pulse which they said was normal, cradled his head. I asked why no one had called a doctor. Then I went and called the resort doctor who said he would rush over, that it was only a topical reaction, not to worry.

I was certain the boy was dying, and when I returned to the group, I saw that he was slowly turning blue, from his fingertips to his mouth.

When we returned to the hotel, Williams explained that sharks carried poison in their skin, and the boy had undergone a severe reaction. He was lucky to be alive. Certainly he would remember the incident all his life as the time he touched a shark.

After a cozy light dinner together, the four of us sat together sipping drinks and relating our travel stories. Williams had been everywhere. He had been in overthrown countries, he had lived in paradise, and he hadn’t seen his wife and child in over 8 years. He was now more of a hermit or a monk, living quietly in his hilltop bungalow overlooking the resort. We talked of Sartre, of Thomas Merton, of faith, and belief in God, and I knew he had found his god whatever it was, and was satisfied with his life.

After dinner, we returned to our cottages, and I was showering and cleaning up with Ben, when Ben told me he really worshiped this man who had traveled so much, had been to so many places, was so well read, and so modest. He wanted to stay around after our trip and learn something from him.

We had developed a nightly ritual during our two weeks there which consisted of a relaxing day, fine conversation, and a short prayer before bed. I had never really prayed before, and it stuck me as awkward that I would begin now. Williams explained that I was not praying to a thing, but to everything. At the same time I was also praying to myself to understand it all. This seemed like a good resolution, and I followed in his modest prayer ritual. He had a beautiful carved jade statuette consisting of several icons in interspersing layers. Seven in all. Like a box within a box within a box, until the final layer in the center was a ____________ .

It began with a Siva, then an elephant, then a Saint, then a tree, then a fish, and the rest I couldn’t decipher. It looked like a man reading a book holding a ball. The whole unit was about 10” square, and occupied a divine place on his bare bookcase.

My prayer piece was a ornately carved plastic sculpture with several buttons which I was to press to bring me to a new layer of understand. When pressed the buttons would utter a pre-recorded parable or words of wisdom from important religious figures and philosophers throughout history. It was all his own voice, and I found that each time I pressed, it was as if I begin to think about something deeper and deeper. Thomas had made the contraption, and explained that that was how he distilled his belief into this final 7 layers of understanding which he described to a stonesmith who had carved them into one square block of pure jade.

So I washed up, and began to pray.

Meanwhile Williams was outside on his very tiny stone patio, overlooking the swimming pool and resort below. That was where he had his nightly prayers. It was at least 150 feet down and the pool looked like a piece of light blue fruit. It was a magnificent view at sunset, but tonight it was stormy, and there was occasional lightening.

I could hear him going through his prayers, one profound reasoning after another, and his voice grew louder and more resolute, increasing in volume as he reached the center. At that moment I heard him yell, “Absolution!” and he stepped backwards off of the patio.

The next morning, we were all very somber and quiet. The hotel’s owner, a small middle aged woman, told us how wonderful a man Thomas was. He often helped around the hotel, and people in the village respected him because he respected them.

I tried to imagine where he had hit the pool deck, but they had cleaned it all up before we arrived. Ben was especially morose. He hadn’t gotten dressed yet, still sitting in his room in his underwear. I told him, ”Don’t you see. It was time for him. He had been searching for something all his life. He traveled the world wondering, learning, trying to find whatever it was. And last night, he found it. One perfect moment of peace and resolution. I figure he didn’t want to let it get away, so he took it with him to his death. It’s beautiful don’t you think?”

As we were packing up and waiting for our car to take us to the boat, the woman who ran the hotel came over and asked if there was anything of his that we would like. I said thanks but no, please donate it all to the villagers. We tool a quick look through his room though, and it felt strange, like he had been dead for years. I didn’t feel comfortable going through his belongings, his clothes, his personal effect, his razor still sitting in the spot next to his statue, ready to shave his face. We half heartedly looked through his meager belongings when I found a stack of books which caught my attention.

I drew one up, and started leafing through it. It was filled with postcards and clipping and letters from around the world. “Look Irene, I said, pointing out postcards from myself. We met at this place in Tokyo years ago. See here’s the card, and here’s a letter I wrote to him on the stationary from a hotel in London, and here’s a card from Homare.”

“So how did you become friends?” she asked.

“Well I was in Tokyo, and Kevin took Homare and I to this chic Japanese restaurant. Sitting next to us was a man who was with two women and a child. He explained to us over beers that one was his wife and child while the other was his girlfriend. He was having a terrible time, but insisted that they all travel together. We started a conversation, and over the years, I would receive postcards from him from various places around the world, and of course I would send him letters. We became friends through our words, and this book sort of wraps everything up about my own wanderings during the last ten years. I’m surprised he took the time to collect them all.”

“Why don’t you keep the book?” she asked, and I did, and we left.

Posted to Dreams by corbett at 02:53 AM
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