All Living : A Seedvision Saga (9781621473923)

by Humphrey, Michael C.

  The next morning Kole awoke happy and full of energy. He started to open his pack to grab a bit of food but stopped himself. “No food today,” he said aloud. He rose and stretched, feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time, perhaps ever. He walked down to the river and kneeling, scooped up a large handful of water, but then stopped himself again. He poured the water out and carefully rubbed his forehead and neck with his wet hand, being careful not to get any on his lips. He stood and was surprised to find that he was surrounded by animals, curious to inspect him. He rubbed each of them in turn, pleased with this reception. He marveled at the many furred and feathered faces around him; amazed that his own father had named each one. “You, my friend, are called moose,” he said to one largely inquisitive creature, then knelt to stroke the fur of another. “And you, I believe, are a skunk.”

  The procession of beasts and birds lasted until midday. He decided then to wash in the river and, removing all his clothing, stepped in to the soothing waters. He was careful not to get his head too near its surface. As he watched the sunlight filter down through the leaves and sparkle on the ripples of current, he admired the many fish that swam around his legs. Reaching down he cupped his hands underneath a large trout. It did not try to swim away. Lifting it out of the water he held it up to his face, admiring its texture and shimmering scales. “You are a fine specimen,” he said before releasing it once more to the flowing fluid of the river.

  Kole climbed out of the water and looked at his clothing. The skin that his mother had once made for him was stained and torn, stretched thin at its stitching. He considered dressing briefly then changed his mind. The idea of clothing suddenly seemed odd and he left them lying on the ground. He decided instead to run. The feel of the grass on his bare feet invigorated him, and the air around him dried the water from his lean muscles. He stretched his legs to lengthen each stride. The animals around him, only momentarily startled by his strange behavior, kept pace, and he led them swiftly through the garden. Not knowing where he was within the garden, he was surprised to suddenly burst forth into an open clearing filled with bright sunlight. He slowed to a stop and looked around, catching his breath in wonder.

  In the center of the clearing stood two enormous trees, both equal in height and girth. They stood taller than all the other trees and spread their limbs to cover an expansive swath. The meadow was far larger than it appeared, and the trees spaced so that not a branch from one touched a branch of the other. A thought flashed through Kole’s mind, the trees; the two trees.

  He was about to walk over to them when he realized he was no longer surrounded by animals. He turned and saw that the edges of the meadow, just within the tree line, was filled with animals, all watching him but none daring one step into the clearing. It made Kole uneasy to see them that way. They are not water, and this is not a riverbank, Kole thought. Why do they not approach? I feel no warning issuing from these leaves of grass. I feel no caution within the voice of the wind. I sense no natural resistance to my presence from this pasture. The land is large and the grass is green, and the Lord makes no evil thing.

  Kole turned to look at the two trees again. He could not tell one from the other at this distance. He walked toward them for a long time. The trees were even bigger than he had imagined. As he stepped into the shadow of their company, he felt the wind grow cool against his skin. Their trunks were thick, and he could not wrap his arms around them. Ten men, in fact, could not join hands around one of them. The limbs were much too high to reach, nearly halfway up before branching out. He could not climb up nor reach the branches, but looking up he spotted the fruit.

  Both had flowering blossoms and young buds among their leaves, both also had a few fully mature fruits dangling from thin stems. They were different than any he had yet seen. One tree had more of an oval fruit spangling its features while the other had fruit that was round and full. Yet that, to Kole’s eyes, was the only slight difference in appearance. Both types were milky mother-of-pearl, iridescent in their luster, capturing the light and shadow both upon the contours of their shape and reflecting it back outward in a myriad of colors. It was beautiful, intoxicating, and captured Kole as easily as a fire captures a spark.

  “No wonder,” Kole whispered to himself with sudden empathy for his parents. A sweet, tangy breath of air made the limbs of the trees dance and sway seductively, and Kole stood firmly rooted to the ground, staring up into the shadows until the sun went down.

  In the morning, Kole awoke beneath the shared shadow of the two trees. His mouth was dry, and his throat ached from lack of water. His stomach growled for a morsel of food, and he felt weak in all his limbs and weak in his resistance. The first thing that he saw upon opening his eyes was a large, flat stone a few cubits away. Upon the stone, resting perfectly in the middle, was a pearly piece of fruit from the tree above him. As he crawled toward it, it did not occur to him that this fruit could not have itself fallen from the tree during the night without splitting, or at least in some way bruising. On his hands and knees he approached the rock and watched as the morning light flickered off the translucent skin of its orb. He was so hungry. Clear, cold morning condensation glistened on its surface and slowly, antagonizingly, rolled in rivulets down its curved silhouette. He was so thirsty. His hand seemed to reach out of its own accord, and with trembling fingers, he wrapped the tender body of the fruit in his hand and picked it up off the slab. He sat up with it and looked down into the depths of its skin, to its core, where lights with life of their own seemed to burn with eagerness.

  This was a fruit that wanted to be eaten. This was a fruit that had as much desire in it to give as any man has ever had to receive. This fruit, this fruit needed a purpose to exist, a reason for being, Kole suddenly understood, and man is that purpose. The whole of creation premeditated to center and circle around singular moments, like ripples on the surface of a still pond after a pebble has been tossed, ready to reveal patterns and meaning, but only if one were still enough to discern the moment and mindful enough to appreciate it. And those ripples…oh, what ripples they would be. Spreading out in perfect symmetry to brush against each shore, then lifting from the surface of the waters to disperse a continual harmony of involvement through the air to every living being.

  Kole cradled the object of his whole attention in both hands and brought it up closer to his face. Eating this fruit will join me to my mother and father or separate me from them, he realized. Eating this fruit will fulfill a destiny that was designed for this very reason. To eat and become full. To fill and become All. This fruit, Kole thought. This fruit…

  Suddenly, he looked around him, aware of the animals at the edge of the wood watching him, waiting. Aware of his own nakedness in a world large and empty. Aware of creation holding its breath; of his vulnerability. Aware.

  Kole set the forbidden fruit back down upon the stone. “No food today,” he said aloud, and the sun rose over the trees and warmed the air, and just like that, the spell was broken. “No food yet,” he said, remembering the words of the cherubim at the gate. He rose, and with one last look at the stone and its single occupant, he walked back toward the woods. And the world let out its breath, and the breeze felt good.

  Kole walked back to the bank of the river where he had bathed the day before. His clothing and pack still lay in a tangle amongst the grasses and berry bushes. He picked it up and rinsed it in the clean waters, rubbing it and beating it against the rocks in the way his mother always had. In a natural shallow on a rock he crushed a particular kind of green sprout that grew along the edge of the water and watched as foam appeared. This he worked into the skin with some sand from the bottom of the river until most of the stains were gone. After laying his clothing on a bush to dry in the sun, he stretched out on the bank to nap. He had been in the garden for nearly three days now. He was feeling weak from hunger and was anxious to meet the Lord. He closed his eyes and pictured his sheep, the way the
y followed him, vying with each other for his attention. He missed them almost as much as he missed his family and hoped they were enjoying themselves in the fragrant meadow under the watchful eyes of the angel. He imagined each one of them in turn, naming them and visualizing their individual characters and personalities. One ewe, Mamel, was getting very heavy and Kole knew that she would soon have a lamb. His flock would increase in size. Kole started to mentally count his sheep, but counting the sheep always made him sleepy, and he began to drift off into a restless doze.

  In a dream he saw a lamb walk up to him. It was not one of his lambs. This lamb had a glistening coat of wool and seemed to be larger than the rest. He knew it was not one of his seventeen, nor was it Nod, but it had a familiar look to it, nonetheless. Kole walked up to the sheep but hesitated to touch its head. The sheep had deep, liquid eyes that seemed to see past Kole’s skin and into his thoughts. They looked at each other until Kole felt an urgent need to look down at his feet. “Kole,” said the lamb.

  Kole looked up in surprise, his mouth hanging open. “Kole,” the Lamb said again.

  “You spoke to me?” Kole said stunned. “You are a speaking sheep? What manner of new creation is this?”

  “Kole,” said the sheep.

  “I am hearing you, lamb, but I do not know how to answer.”

  “Wake up,” said the lamb.

  “What did you say?”

  “Wake up, Kole,” repeated the lamb.

  Kole opened his eyes and saw that he was lying near the stream in the soft grass. His clothes were hanging from the bush, nearly dry, and many of the animals were lying in the grass as well, sleeping through the heat of the day.

  “Kole,” said the same voice from his dream. Kole rolled over onto his belly and looked up the bank. A few cubits away from him was a man.

  It shocked Kole for a moment that he should see a man, a new man, and not one of his family. For he had never seen a man such as this, with a fine, white garment but for the hem, red as it was, as though dipped in the juice of fruits, so red as to be almost purple. His eyes were like a flame of fire and burned into Kole with an intensity of purpose. And behind His head or upon it was the shining light of the sun, although the brightness of the sun was high in the sky. Kole immediately rolled onto his belly and bowed his face low to the earth, knowing fully within himself that this was the Creator of the garden whom he sought; indeed, this was the Creator of all things.

  “Rise, Kole, my friend, and speak with me,” said the man, and Kole rose, only half willing but bidden as by a command. He looked again upon the face of the man and now saw Him as He appeared: with a humbleness of sun-warmed skin and a beard full and thick. He gasped at the resemblance he saw in the man to his own father, Adam; the strong strokes of the face, the muscles working beneath the jaw, the depth of wisdom and understanding warmth in the eyes, the confident rippling of His voice.

  “My God,” said Kole, “I had in my mind many questions, yet now I find I know not what to say.”

  “You must be hungry, my friend,” said the man. He bent and dipped a wooden cup into the stream and filled it with cold, clear water, then handed it to Kole. Kole drank and drained the water from the cup, not realizing how thirsty he had been.

  “Eat,” said the man, and He held forth a fruit of pleasing design.

  Kole reached out a tentative hand and received the offered fruit but stood there with his outstretched arm and gaping expression.

  “I have brought you a new garment,” said the Creator and held up a robe for Kole. Kole was suddenly aware of his own painful nakedness and thrust his arm into the first sleeve, fruit and all. He shrugged his other arm into the robe and turning, the man fastened it around his neck with a golden clasp.

  The robe was pure white and beautiful to behold. Kole looked down and admired the splendor of such a garment; the softness of the material unequaled by anything he had previously known.

  “Eat,” said the man, and Kole bit deeply into the fruit, relishing the sweet flavor on his parched tongue. The abundance of the juice burst forth into his mouth, ran through his beard spilling from his chin onto his new coat and stained his white garment upon his left breast.

  “Oh no, my Lord,” cried Kole with chagrin, “I’m sorry. I’ve stained the coat you have just given me.” Tears welled up unbidden in his eyes, and through their mist he wiped at the purplish splotch slowly spreading up his outfit, attempting to brush the juice from its smooth surface.

  “It is as it should be Kole,” spoke the Creator with kind forgiveness. “All men stain their garments. But it will be washed clean only by the blood of another.”

  “By blood?” asked Kole.

  “By the juice of the first of the first fruits, my friend.”

  “Where is this fruit?” asked Kole.

  “It stands before you, Kole,” said the Creator.

  Kole looked around, not understanding. He saw many fruits growing from trees and vines. “Which fruit is it, my Lord?”

  “That will be revealed to you in time, Kole. Come, walk with me.”

  Kole walked beside the man. They roamed the garden, the Creator pointing to many sights and wonders that He wanted to share with Kole. He would point to one plant and admire its color and texture, smell and shape. He would describe its individual flavor and explain that even though it was food to be eaten whenever a man desired, it also was created with properties to enhance a man, to give him strength or to help him sleep, or smile or heal. He would point to another and another and another and explain to Kole that a woman could eat that to help her have children or this one to ease the pain of child birth. A man might eat this and that one together to understand creation better, or himself, or his wife, or his Creator; or eating that with another and have no need of sleep for many days. “I have given you every seed bearing plant and herb for food Kole, but I have given them to you to use for more than food. Use them and study them, and you will discover great signs and wonders. I will reveal their mysteries to your family, and I will reveal many of my mysteries to you through them. Kole listened and learned. He remembered all that the Creator showed him in His garden, but he put it away in the back of his mind for further exploration. He sighed.

  The master gardener, hearing this, looked from his plants to Kole and said, “I know you have many questions, Kole. What would you ask of me?”

  Kole walked beside Him. “My brother, Abel, breathes no more, my Lord. I would ask for his life to be restored to him, Master.”

  “You have great boldness in you Kole, and you will have need of it all of your life. Your brother Abel’s life will be given back to him in the fullness of time. Even as the fruit that you eat consumes time to reach its fullness, so too will each man reach his fullness in season.”

  “When will this season be, my Lord?”

  The Creator smiled a patient smile. “Not until the end of all things.”

  “Then I fear Abel is lost to me for a while. Is this correct?”

  “Do not fear, Kole, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom. Fear is a snare that will take from you your love, as your brother has been taken because of Cain’s fear. Trust in the Lord and you shall be safe.”

  “I do not seek my own safety, Lord, nor any thing called a kingdom, but answers as to why this thing has happened and how it may be reversed.”

  “You do not know what it is that you spurn, Kole, for in the fullness of time the Kingdom will be your only desire. Your Father has designed it so.”

  “Yes, my Father,” said Kole.

  “Kole,” said the Creator, stopping and turning to look directly into Kole’s eyes, “I am not your Father, but I do the will of the Father in all things. The Father and I are unified in this Kole. I am your friend, and I will not keep this from you.”

  Kole could not maintain the Creator’s stea
dy gaze but cast his eyes down to the ground. “Yes, my Lord, it is as you say.”

  “You must learn to understand, Kole. There is no fear in love nor is there fear in the Father, for the Father is love. Perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. The ache of loss that you feel for your brother is your fear, but he who fears has not been made perfect in love. You, Kole, have been made by love, the love of the Father, and the love your parents hold for each other. In this you must place your hope. You do not understand this yet, but hope is reserved for those things which are not yet known.”

  “I hear the words you teach me, and I will hope to understand them more fully, even as you know them,” said Kole.

  “Now you are understanding, Kole,” said the Creator. He laughed; a deep, rich, full-throated laugh. “Your heart has been made heavy, Kole, but it was not designed for such things. It was made to rejoice and be glad. Even my burden is light, Kole, and yours will not be more than you can bear.”

  “What is my heart, Lord?”

  “Your heart? Ah yes,” said the Lord with a faraway look in his eyes. “It is the center of you, the waters within a man that his thoughts spring from. Yours beats here,” He said, touching Kole’s chest. “It is filled now with longing for your brothers, for your family,” said the Lord, “but soon it will again be filled with love and with hope.”

  “I am trying to understand, my Lord,” said Kole.

  “You will, Kole, you will.”

  They walked and spoke of many things; of creation and the wonders of it. Of nature and its marvelous workings. Of many things too numerous and awesome to name, indeed, forbidden to record lest they fall into hands that would misuse them.

  In time Kole laughed, and the Creator laughed, and they continued to walk together and talk while the sun rose and fell many times.