A Journey to the Center of the Soul

Part 2 — Rendezvous with a Killer

The moon was out. She was full and bright, the only light in an otherwise dark world. It was ironical that the moonlight would pick a mad-man’s sharp dagger and murderous eyes to shine her best light upon. Wolves howled in the distance, hungry, ready to hunt. Living among these animals, the killer too had become one among them, waiting, preying.

The teenager was terrified. In between the sound of his thudding heart, he could hear a loud intake of breath next to him, and knew that his father was just as scared too. And that was not a good sign at all. The boy’s mind went into such a frenzy that he froze. His mind processed nothing other than the thunderous fear that threatened to rupture his insides even before the murderer got to it.

Even as he stood, fixated to his spot, his father began to the approach the killer whose determined eyes were set upon the boy, and the boy only. Slowly, and softly, the boy’s father began to talk to the psychopathic hunter. Neither could the boy hear what his father was saying, nor was his head inclined to hear him out. His brain was completely abuzz, with nothing other than fear.

Breathe, just breathe, simply breathe. The wise phrase flowed through the incomprehensible noise of fear inside his head. And the boy listened as if on automation. Pay attention to your breath to pay attention to your soul, the boy’s mentor had told him. The boy closed his eyes and took a few moments to simply listen to the depth of his breath.

In those moments of silence, the boy realized that his father was only stalling the killer, giving him time to find an escape route. Maybe, he should flee like them rabbits, when the wolves were after them. But the boy was no rabbit, at least, he couldn’t afford to be one in this situation. He would never be able to out-run the killer. Maybe he should fight it out, like some of his friends would have done. Or maybe, maybe, he could…it was a long shot…it might not work…he could be killed…but he had to give it a go nevertheless — maybe, he could talk things out with the murderer. Make peace with him.

Afterall, if the man was listening to his father, he could hear him out too…

Surrendering himself to this idea, the boy told his legs to gather the courage to walk towards the butcher. With trembling legs, he approached the man, who, immediately turned to pay attention to the child in front of him.

“Can we go to the lakeside please?” the boy requested the killer who nodded his consent. The three of them walked towards the lake that was a short distance away. The boy still did not know why he wanted to go to the lakeside — maybe he could swim away. All he knew was that he wanted to be near something that would calm him down. Water, usually, did the trick.

The dark waters of the lake stood still, reflecting the stillness and the silence of the darkness around. Looking at the lake, the boy remembered the more joyful occasions when he visited the lake near his home, with his friends. During the daytime, the lake always felt so alive.

Was the lake afraid of the dark? Maybe that why it stood so still during this time. But if the scared lake was reflecting the darkness around, then maybe the dark was afraid too…of its own self.

Wanting to shake off the ridiculous theories that were surrounding his head during his own dark hours, and focus on the more critical situation, the boy wondered why he was thinking of darkness and reflections during a life-threatening situation like the one he was trapped in. Now that he was on the edge of life, his brain had probably gone bonkers and was working out life’s philosophy instead of fighting for mere existence. Where were his survival instincts when he needed them the most?!

You are the ideas that come to you, his mother had often told him. When you analyze why you think how you think, you will be able to figure out what to do. The boy stopped short when his mind pulled out those words, and somehow, even though he hadn’t figured it all out, he knew he would get out of this quandary, alive.

Pointing towards the lake’s still waters, the boy turned towards the killer. “Why is the water black in colour?” he asked.

Staring at him as if the boy was the mad-man, and not himself, the killer replied. “It is reflecting the darkness of the sky. That is why the waters are black.”

“And the grass, why is it black in colour? Is the grass also reflecting the colour of the skies?”

“The grass is not really black. It is just how our eyes perceive colour during these dark hours.”

“Neither the water, not the grass are black in colour. And yet, our eyes perceive them to be dark because of the reflections that catch our sight. And that means, we cannot really see well in the dark, can we?”

“Of course we cannot! The darkness makes everyone blind!”

“If the darkness of the world causes everyone to go blind, can the darkness of the mind be any different?”

It was the murderer’s turn to catch his breath.

“My fear causes me to go blind,” said the boy, “Until I find the light of my breath to reach out to my soul. Then, I discover my path, despite my fear. But I fail to notice my breath until I fail to notice my fear. It is my fear that urges me to find my breath to find my way. What about your blindness, my wise man, tell me what causes it?”

“Kill, kill, kill! The words echo within me,” replied the killer. “Those words cause my blindness.”

“And what if you reached out to your own breath, your own soul? What would you kill?”

“I would kill myself!” exclaimed the butcher. “Oh my god! The words kill, kill, kill, was not meant for anyone other than myself! I should only kill myself, and not anyone else!” In his state of agitation, the killer pointed his knife towards his own, dark heart.

Afraid of seeing blood spill, the boy immediately stopped the killer from plunging his knife into himself. “Wait! We are our ideas, and ideas are meant to grow us. How will you use the words kill, kill, kill to grow yourself?”

The murderer was lost in thought. Fighting his urge to grab his father’s hand and run away from the place, the boy stood his ground, hoping, praying that the killer would see enough sense through his introspection to let them go. Suddenly, a loud howl from somewhere inside the woods, jolted the boy. The killer also turned to look in the direction.

“I know,” the killer murmured. “I know what I have to kill. I have to kill the wild animal inside me. I am not created to be a wolf. I have to kill the wolf and grow the human.”

The killer’s eyes had softened, and both the boy and his father heaved a huge sigh of relief, knowing that they were free to move on ahead.

Dear Reader,

Darkness.

Let us sit with her at the table and get to know her.

The darkness reaches for us in various ways — through our genetics, the people that surround us, through our environment — she is always calling out to us. Our emotions, and the thoughts that accompany our emotions, they are the darkness clouding our minds, threatening a downpour. But what is the darkness really on about?

Think of the dark clouds — they are about the bounty of rainfall. Think of the dark night — it is about the peace of rest and sleep. Think of dark holes — it is about one universe contained within another. Think of dark energy — it is about the creation of the known universe. Every dark crevice holds something unknown, and not necessarily evil.

Likewise, the dark crevices of our minds. Everything from fear, to jealousy, to boredom — everything is a call for action. A call for us to shine the light during the dark times.

Think of the darkness as a mother prodding her child to walk, to talk, to eat, to get out of the womb, to…grow. Afterall, it is from within the darkness of the womb that we grow to arrive into the outside world.

Our attitude towards darkness depends on our perception, and our perceptions shape our beleifs. Fear the darkness, then the mind turns the darkness into a monster. Understand it, then, the darkness, becomes an adventure into the unknown, into our own psyche.

Here’s to enjoying high tea with the Lady of the Dark!

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