From: Philippa Chapman (Glastonbury, Somerset, UK.) Date: Sun 16 Feb 1997 18:00 +0000 Subject: About Time?, Part 2/3 Sam turned his attention to the cheese and potato concoction with fresh peas on the the plate in front of him. Despite his initial misgivings, it was delicious. The cheese part had a real 'bite' to it. When seconds were offered, he readily accepted. James looked at him with a strange expression on his face. "It's good to see you getting you appetite back, Chris." Sam fudged an acceptable answer. "Yes, well, I went for a swim this afternoon down at the beach. The sea air must have given me an appetite." Sonja turned to Sam and smiled. "Yes, the beach is lovely, isn't it? I must have painted it a hundred times since I arrived here three years ago." Sam felt his cheeks beginning to burn. Karen laid a gentle hand over his. "We know how hard it's been since you lost your friend. Travelling can be such a hard way of life." Sam looked at her with surprise. This was going to require delicate handling. "Er...yes, it is." Sam managed to turn his attention back to the food, then the pudding course which was trifle and fresh fruit. He helped wash the dishes afterwards, trying to pick up anything that would enlighten him. James pulled him on one side after the meal was cleared away. "Do you need to talk, Chris?" Al appeared right on cue. "Make that a 'yes', Sam." Sam nodded carefully and he followed James out into the warm evening air. There was a large stone veranda-cum- patio with several benches. The two men sat down while Al hovered nearby. "Tell me about Bob. What he was like, how you met." Al carefully fed the information to Sam, who relayed it to James. "We met at school. We were both keen on the same girl; her name was Pamela Mclean. I got to kiss her first, then Bob. I fell in love with her - if you can love someone at 16. It broke my heart when Bob boasted to me that they'd become lovers. I finished school, went to University, but I couldn't forget Pamela. I compared every woman to her and they all came short. I wasn't a saint, James - I made love with some of them, but the simple kisses I'd shared with Pamela had meant far much more to me than sex with another woman. So I became celibate, then I had a spiritual experience which made almost everything else pale into insignificance. I haven't been intimate with anyone in the last nearly twenty years. I'm beginning to wonder if God is calling me to be a monk or a priest. As far as Bob is concerned, we met up again on the road and renewed our friendship. He'd been through some hard times; failed marriage, booze, drugs. He revealed that his boast about Pamela had been a lie. He'd been jealous of the closeness between Pamela and myself. We travelled together. I actually found that I still liked him and he aroused my pity." James stared out into the darkness, then turned to Sam very hesitantly. "You'll have to forgive the next question, Chris, but I need to know. Was there anything more between you and Bob?" Al's eyes narrowed as he consulted the Handlink. "Er....what a question! Hang on, Sam. Uh-oh. They....they kissed once and Bob attempted more, but Chris definitely prefers ladies. He gave Bob a sympathetic brush-off. It seems that Bob had been crazy about him since way back. He seemed to take the rejection, but the next day he took an overdose and by the time Chris found him, it was too late. No wonder the poor guy's been off his food." Sam gulped slightly as he carefully reworded Al's information for James. "Thank-you for sharing that, Chris. Being able to talk about it is the first step in the healing process. You told me about your spiritual experience when you first came, and now I hear this inner questioning about the rest of your life. I can understand that you might feel that you want to give something back to God, but we need to explore this calling more carefully. Being a monk or a priest, especially in this modern age, takes a great deal of commitment and hard work. Have you ever felt guided in your life?" Sam's lips quirked as he looked away. "Um...you could say that, yes." Al coughed slightly over his cigar. "Do you believe in...angels?" Sam fought to keep his expression neutral. "I'm not entirely sure that my....um, guide could be considered an angel." "Well, I know you well enough to be certain it's not a devil. Are you one of those who has an animal guide? I won't be shocked - God can appear in any form He or She chooses to get the message through." By this stage Al was fighting his laughter as hard as he could. Sam took a deep breath. This was a safe place and a trustworthy man. Although James wasn't a Catholic priest, Sam knew on a deep level that anything he said would be as private as the Confessional. "I...can only share this with you now. I have a feeling that I may forget all about my guide in a few days time....don't ask me why." James' eyes were sympathetic. "That can happen. God doesn't always leave footprints behind once He's gone. I don't fully understand why myself. Some things we have to leave to providence; I do feel certain that one day we will see everything and understand why our lives had to be as they are." Sam nodded slowly. "Well, James....this is a little difficult. My guide, for want of a better description, is a man called Al. I can see him and hear him whenever he's around, but no-one else can," James nodded, accepting Sam's words without surprise or judgement,"He tells me the best course of action to take and he's almost never wrong." Al darted a deep glance at Sam. "Aww, Sam. That's not always me, you know. Sometimes it's Ziggy." Sam gave him a look that said, 'I know; and how do you expect me to explain *her* to James?' Al nodded in understanding and smiled. James was clearly thinking. "Well, that sounds like an angel. They have been known to take human form, right from Abraham's three visitors onwards. They appear at moments of crisis or opportunity and point the way ahead. They have been known to save people's lives. Sometimes the most mundane encounter could be an angel in disguise - even humans can act as angels to one another - the right action, word or look at the right time could save a life. I know God has helped members of our Community to aid others along their path. He works through our hands, eyes, feet and voices," James smiled,"It's in the song we sang this morning, remember?" Sam looked at James with surprise. James continued, singing in a clear tenor. "'Brother, sister, let me serve you. Let me be as Christ to you. Pray that I might have the grace to let you be my servant, too. We are brethren on the journey and companions on the road. We are here to help each other walk the mile and share the load. I will hold the Christ- light for you in the darkness of your fear. I will hold my hand out to you, speak the words you long to hear.....'" James stopped and looked at Sam, who had been forced to turn his head away because of the tears that were threatening. As he slowly turned his head back to look at James, several of the tears fell. James put his arm around Sam. Al crouched down on the other side. "It got to me, too." Sam saw the tears on Al's face and nearly choked, "I....I'm going to get Ziggy to download that song....all the verses." Al couldn't go on. Sam nodded slightly. "It's alright to cry, Chris. Tears are part of the healing, too. You take all the time you need." Sam wiped his tears away roughly. "I can't understand what brought me *here*. I feel like I'm wasting time." James gently shook his head. "Time is never wasted. Who said.....'Half our time is spent trying to find something to do with the time we have rushed through trying to save.'?" Al punched the Handlink. "Yeah, I get days like that, too. It was Will Rogers who said that, Sam. Ziggy doesn't know why you're still here. Maybe *HE* does." Al gestured upwards. "Well, if God brought me here, what do I *do* now?" James smiled warmly. "Maybe you're not meant to *do* anything, Chris - apart from heal your wounds a little. Sometimes God gives us a rest. A holiday in the old sense of the word. We all need a breathing space from time to time. Even I have to take a break from the Community at least twice a year." Al nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe that's it Sam. Maybe this is a refuelling stop. You've had easy leaps in with the difficult ones. Take time to smell the roses....although I can't see any round here." "To be honest, I'm not always sure that God is there." "That's not uncommon. Even the greatest saints have had their times of blackness. But when God - whatever you like to call him - withdraws, or seems to, then it's often then that you grow. Talking from the Christian perspective, even Christ himself had his times when God seemed absent. But God *was* there, even in the darkness. Perhaps especially in the darkness. We all just do the best we can to be good and true." "But I....I don't feel wholly myself. It is painful to be no longer oneself, even more painful if possible than when one is." Al punched the Handlink, then his eyes went wide. "Sam, this is *weird*. You'll never guess who you just quoted. The *other* Samuel Becket. The one who wrote that strange play about two guys stranded in the middle of nowhere..... I don't like this, Sam. There is definitely something very odd happening around here." Sam looked at Al. "Don't leave, Al." "Are you talking to your friend, your guide?" To Sam's surprise, James sounded calm and untroubled. "Um, er....yes. He's right *there*. He's saying that our conversation is rather weird." James laughed softly. "Trying to say anything meaningful about the divine usually is weird, Chris. All we've got to go on is our own personal experiences. Even those who were chosen to be God's messengers or avatars. You could say that in a sense we are all God's messengers - even the natural world is a wonder. I've met people of all religions and none in my time here. All of those who opened up spoke of the majesty of their deity, the wonder of creation and how the deity filled everything. If this is true, and I personally believe that it is, then we encounter God everywhere we look - in each other and in the world around us. I respect the tradition of the Celtic faith; they tried to surround every activity in an atmosphere of prayer." Al's eyebrows went up. "*Every* activity? If I thought about God when I....well, let's say it would get in the way! This guy is cuckoo!" Sam's lips twitched again. James eyesight was keen enough to notice. "I know what you're thinking....at least I can guess. Praying while making love seems a bit of a turn-off." "You're not kidding, mister!" Sam tried to ignore Al, but it was difficult. James continued. "The Song of Solomon is one of the most erotic pieces of literature ever written. It's meant to be a celebration of the intensity of the physical and spiritual union of a man and woman. It may use out-dated notions of physical beauty, but it's all there. If you go East, the literature gets even more explicit." Al's eyes gleamed as he listened. "I take it all back! This guy's a genius! I'm going to have some *interesting* bed-time reading when I get back." Sam tried to admonish Al with a glance, but James was still talking. "That's why I understand about your feelings for Pamela. You may not have ever made love with her, but a bond was formed, at least on your part. That's the first step. In most circumstances, this would lead to courtship and marriage. It did with me and Karen. We knew it was something special from the first time we kissed. Maybe you have the call to the single celibate life, but I don't see it at the moment. If you seek the priesthood in another denomination, you would still retain the option of marrying later - apart from the Orthodox, they have special rules - but in the little time I've known you, I don't think you would fit easily into their spirituality. I've met some lovely Orthodox people here, but their outlook was different from yours. On the other hand, if you get given the grace to follow that path, I won't stand in your way." Sam was silent for a while as he tried to assimilate everything James had said. "So, you're saying that God is in everyone and everything....even fundamental particles." "That's one point of view. When you get to the sub-atomic level, I understand that the tiniest pieces of matter are really difficult to pin down. Perhaps they're what the Bible calls mights, dominions and powers. Who knows? The mystical traditions can sound pretty strange when they try to express the inexpressible. All I know is that the One I call God is real to me. Maybe it's the same God as yours - it feels like it. Maybe you've encountered the Feminine aspect of God. All we can do is trust and seek wisdom to tell the good people from the ones who are definitely working for the dark side." Sam smiled slowly. "So if fundamental particles are part of God...." He turned and looked at Al. "Uh-uh! No, no; no way! I accept all the erotic stuff, even that God may be in everything; but the thought of him peeking over my shoulder the whole time.... I could never see Tina in her black underwear again and that would be a damn shame. She fills it sooo beautifully," then Al grinned almost shyly,"Actually, James is right about it in a way. When we're actually....um... Well, *then*....then I do feel like a god. I do hope that's not blasphemous; I wouldn't want to think that He could be shocked." Al looked up hurriedly, almost as if he was anticipating the thunderbolts. Sam turned back to James and put the question that Al couldn't ask. "So, if God *is* in everything and what you said about love is true, then we might be justified in feeling.... almost like a god when it happens." James nodded and smiled. "Yes, absolutely. The act of love was designed to make children as well as give pleasure, after all. It's incredible that something a man and woman share together can actually be responsible for bringing a new soul into being......Karen and I may not have succeeded with that part yet, but our love is strong." A wistful look passed over James' face. "Oh, Sam; I hope he and Karen strike gold one of these days.....Ziggy's shut up tighter than a clam, she won't tell me anything about that." Sam re-phrased the hope to James with his own words. "Thanks, Chris. We'll adopt if we really can't have our own. This place needs some children. Remember what I said about *everyone* being a messenger of God. You have it in your own name. Christopher means 'Christ bearer', after the saint who carried the Christ-child over the waters. A good name for a Traveller. Speaking of Travellers, you are still coming up to Pilton for the weekend?" Al nodded as he consulted the Handlink. "Yes, James." "Good. We're right next to the coracle on the Healing field. You must have been umpteen times before, but this is the first time that the Christians will be alongside all the other Healers. It will be an exciting experience for all of us." Sam turned to Al as James made his excuses and left. "Okay, Al. What have you got me into *this* time?" 'We haven't the time to take our time...' E. Ionesco. Al coughed slightly. "Well, you see, I kinda missed out on Woodstock the first time and this pop festival is supposed to be pretty groovy." Sam tried to stop himself smiling. "It's no good, Al. That word doesn't sound right coming from you. Anyway it's the Nineties now, not the Sixties. The 'buzz' words have changed since then. Tell me exactly what to expect." Al duly consulted his oracle. "Well, it all takes place in several fields on both sides of a valley. The farmer who owns the land organises a lot of things himself. Lots of tents, marquees and several stages. You can expect to see a crowd of around 80,000 or so, more on the Sunday when they let anyone in for free. The....Healing field is up on one hillside, within hearing distance of the music from the nearest sound stage. It can be something of a maze once you're inside, so brush up on your sense of direction. Lots of pop music, virtually any cuisine that takes your fancy if you're prepared to pay for it, plus all the spiritual paths you can think of to choose from and probably quite a few that you can't. If you are meant to be here to discuss whether it *is* God, Fate, Time or yourself Leaping you around, you couldn't have picked a better spot short of the gurus in L.A. - and they'd charge, big time. Up on the Healing field most things are free unless you want to go for one of the therapies on offer. I'm getting massage, reflexology, reiki, shiatsu, acupressure and several others listed here," Al grinned,"What a way to go, being massaged to death by a beautiful blonde, brunette or red-head. It could take *days*." Sam gave Al an old-fashioned look. "Yes, well I'm sure you can get Tina to oblige. It might slow you down a bit. In the meantime, what next?" Al continued to grin at the mental picture he'd painted as he answered. "Okay, it's nearly 8 p.m. There'll be Compline soon in the chapel. I think you'd be expected to attend; it goes on for 20 minutes, maybe half an hour, tops. Some people swear by it at the end of the day to wind them down. Try it, see what you think and I'll meet you in your room afterwards. It's that window, there - up the stairs and turn right. No number....just a blue door." Al vanished hastily before Sam could object. When Sam settled in the chair in the chapel with the slim booklet and the words began, he was surprised to find that the rhythm and cadences *were* relaxing. Karen stood up and led the service and they sang the one hymn unaccompanied, in plainsong. By the time the service was over, Sam found that he was almost fully relaxed and even a bit tired. James approached him. "You'll be off tomorrow morning with the two priests in their camper van just after breakfast, okay?" Sam nodded and found his way to Christopher's bedroom. Al stood by the window, smoking a cigar. Sam took in the single bed, the packed rucksack and kit-bag and the clothes laid out on the one chair. "It seems as if Chris is all ready for tomorrow." Sam went over to the mirror and looked at his host. Long, dark, almost black hair and beard, a slightly uneven nose, sunburn and intense blue eyes. "Quite a good-looking guy. Certainly doesn't look 41," Al commented,"He's doing alright back at the project. He thinks that Beena is an angel." Sam smiled. "That wouldn't be the first time, I bet. What does he think of you?" Al shrugged. "He's got this really weird title for me. He called me the Guardian of the Threshold. It's probably one of those characters from 'Dungeon and Dragon' games. I'm pretty sure that Ziggy knows, but she's still sulking from the last time I called her a talking Spectrum with a bad attitude. Short of threatening her with a spanner, I'm stuck." Sam laughed. "You won't get around Ziggy with that sort of attitude. You'll just have to pretend that's she's a real woman and use your Italian charm on her." Al grinned. "If she was a *real* woman, there'd be no problem. One kiss from me and she'd melt. You can't kiss a computer." Sam grinned back. "Have you tried? You never know, she might like it." For once in his life, Al was rendered speechless. Sam continued to grin at his discomfort as he checked Christopher's luggage. When that was finished, he went to the bathroom and got ready for bed, once he saw that breakfast in the morning started at 7.30. By the time he climbed between the sheets, it was only 9 o'clock, but Sam felt ready for bed. "Well, unless Christopher's due to get mugged in the middle of the night, I'll see you in the morning." Al was still slightly distracted. "Yes, well...I'll get back to you, Sam." Sam's grin returned. "Night night, Casanova." He made loud kissing noises as Al began to disappear. Al simply glared back and vanished. Sam was still chuckling as he pulled the covers up to his chin.