Mountain of Full Moons

by Irene Kessler

He was never so firm before. “That is not easy right now.”

  “Did you think about what makes your soul vibrant?”

  “You asked but cleaning and studying needed to be done.” I turn away, then grin at him over my shoulder.

  The cloud moves from side to side. “All right. I will allow you some leniency. What are your thoughts?”

  “I do not have any.” I wait. “How can I be sure it is my soul?”

  “A joy will fill you as never felt before.”

  “What I know is that I am supposed to have one and so does everybody.”

  “Why?”

  He remains silent for so long I must answer. “The soul is in us when we are born.”

  “Why?”

  Now he is making me angry, so I take my time. “I have no answer.”

  “Ponder on how your soul helps you.” His voice fades with no mention of Resheph.

  The morning’s weather is perfect so it is hard to sit inside. To make it worse, Abram’s first statement makes me feel bad.

  “The way for you to grow is to study and learn. The most important learning is to first understand yourselves.”

  Sandalphon said the same and though I promised, I ignored his suggestion. Abram also hinted at this in different ways. I do not know how to do what he wants. The other students are nodding in agreement.

  Abram paces the width of the room. “Can you identify why you think in a certain way or what you are certain of beyond doubt? But let us consider light and dark. Is one better than the other?” We nod.

  Resheph decides to show off again. “Light offers us the ability to see what we are doing and helps plantings to grow.”

  “That is almost correct. They each offer a different point. But you did not consider dark. What about dark?” No one answers. “Dark brings bad feelings, bleak, sad, shadowy, dismal.” Abram stares at each of us as if willing us to fasten our eyes on him. “What about good and evil? Is one better?”

  “Yes.” “Of course.” “Trivial question.” “Senseless.” Remarks come from all over.

  “Are you sure?”

  Yadid, who opened the door on my first visit, has disbelief on his face. “How can it not be?”

  “If you say it is so, Abram, then it is.” The others laugh and Resheph grins.

  Abram pays no attention.

  “Can one exist without the other? If we do not recognize good, can we know evil? If we only experience dark can we identify light?” We glance around the room. No one comments. “These are called dualities or contrasts.”

  Abram’s last word captivates me. The others sit back and seem puzzled by the new notions. Do Abram’s words mean putting these ideas into our lives? Yet it seems more than that. He continues. “Our world is filled with contrasts and contradictions. Why? So we can make choices.” Sandalphon’s example about eating leaves. “We choose how we live by the selections we make. Do we do good or evil? Help one in need or walk away, give or withhold? Our behavior informs God and people who we are.”

  Abram sits on his bench. “Do we walk with love in our hearts or hate? Who do you choose to be?”

  I take in a mouthful of air. The room is without a sound. The birds are chirping, and a conversation is going on outside.

  “This is a most important task. It takes you to the core of your nature. I am dispensing with questions for now and dismissing the class. You are to go and consider. I ask for complete silence. Each of you go to a place where you can do the necessary work. Return when you are finished.”

  Resheph takes no notice of me as he walks off without a glance. What was in his head? He made a fool of himself. I watch him for a moment then turn toward where he told me the planting terraces are. There is so much to think about, so much to learn. There is never a right time to ask about my trouble.

  I quicken my pace and as I come near, there is a smell I am accustomed to. The familiarity of it warms me. The hint of fields being set ablaze is still in the air. Those fields will now lay fallow until ready for new plantings. My tribe decided that this was the way plantings can be done in almost any season and there would always be fertile areas. The largest area is filled with emmer wheat. The next one, a bit smaller, is planted with barley.

  The lentil vines need to be picked, they are more than two cubits long. Chickpeas were planted three full suns ago. It will take more time before they are ready. I continue toward the orchards to find an olive tree to sit under. Sandalphon arrives without the orb.

  “How are you?”

  His greeting stops me. “Abram’s teachings are not easy to make one’s own.” I turn toward the cloud. “They make all I see or think about life appear different. I am shaken and at odds. His are new notions, which turn me upside down.”

  “I am sure you will right yourself again. You need time alone. I will leave you to your reasonings. Call if you need me.”

  I nod and continue to the orchard. I sit under one of the larger trees. As I close my eyes and take in the scents of the plants growing around me, words for a song flood into my head. I name it, “We Cannot Know the Other.”

  I finish the song and an understanding comes. There is more behind Abram’s words than I grasped. Did he mean we need both because both are good? Evil is not good. I shake my head. Abram said to return after we are complete.

  When I get back, the one missing student is the beauty who cannot think for herself. She arrives as Abram enters the room. “I am glad we are all here. Who would like to speak first?”

  I move around on my seat but cannot find comfort. I am so nervous my hand shakes as I raise it.

  “I do, Abram,” comes out in a whisper.

  “You have not spoken before but do not be afraid. Your hand was halfway up making me wonder if you needed to scratch your head or had a question.” The class laughs and he stares at them. “It takes courage to speak in front of a group. Please, Elisha.”

  “There is still confusion in my thinking. Is there more behind your words? Are you saying we need the, um, contrasts because they are good? How can evil be good?” A few in the class titter. I ignore them.

  “I did not say evil was good, but that one cannot exist without the other.”

  “I misunderstood.”

  “Do not be ashamed. Not understanding is the way to learning. What were you thinking about?”

  “I wrote a song.”

  “A song. Would you sing it for us?”

  The song comes to an end and I wait for Abram. He is smiling and the class is clapping their hands. I thank them and return to my pillow.

  “Your song is an excellent description of what we are exploring here.”

  “Thank you, Abram. I am missing a consideration. I still cannot answer your idea about evil.”

  “I will come to that. First, one more detail about your song. The melody is skilled and you made my words poetic. I agree there is a point, which went astray in your understanding. I asked you to go to the center of your being and inspect the behaviors that describe who you are.”

  I sit back. “You are right, and I forgot. I will do it.” I may not have understood contrasts well but my song was successful.

  Later, Abram gives us a lesson on why to find your life’s purpose, the reason we are here in this place. Do I have one?

  The family is at the late meal and the loud conversation keeps me from my reasonings. I hurriedly do the cleaning and go to sleep happy and determined to understand contrasts.

  I wake up fretful, and late to fix the morning meal. I do not wish to face what is next. Kotharat will be angry and I did not do what Abram asked. I push the jumble of my mind aside. Work comes first. I will find something to say to Abram. I am surprised to find Kotharat seated in the garden and not taking care of a sick friend. I bow my head. “Best wishes for a pleasant morning.”

  “Peace be with you. Elisha. Did you sleep well?”

  “I am sorry to have overslept.”

  “The rest of the family left before sunrise.”

  I do n
ot see any food and turn to go to my sleep space. I stop and walk to the cook pot.

  “You seem disturbed. Can I help?”

  She will not have the answer. “I am having trouble with a task Abram gave us and am at odds with myself.”

  “And what is it?”

  I hesitate. Resheph must have told her about our lesson. He tells her everything. “Abram asked us to find our life’s purpose.” I fill my basin and sit on a mat.

  “Your life’s purpose?”

  “What I am trying to say is I am afraid to make the wrong decision.”

  She laughs. “You are such a mindless young woman. Even I understand life’s purpose is not a decision.”

  She knows? “It is not?”

  “No. Purpose is built into who you are, your heart’s desires, your talents.”

  “I thought about it in the wrong way.”

  “You are not bright like my son, so you are not able to understand.” Scraping my lower lip with my teeth helps control the anger. “Explore who you are and what you choose to do with your life. How you choose to live. You study as Resheph does, so I assume you want to teach or aid those in need. Do you understand?”

  “Thank you, Kotharat.” I never expected her to help me.

  She is cruel on one side and says words to hurt or embarrass you. Then she turns and is kind and helpful. My notions about her are in pieces.

  This need to understand who I choose to be is important. Has someone whispered in my ears for ages and I never heard them? Without this understanding, I will not move forward.

  Sandalphon murmurs into my ear. “This task may be long and laborious, like birthing yourself into this realm. You must consider yourself a baby.”

  The sun is high, and I leave before Resheph can join me. I need to decide the words to use when I speak to Abram. He will be leaving soon. The question roams around my head and the freedom of being alone encourages me to run toward the groves. I make sure Resheph is not following me. I need Sandalphon.

  “Come back to me, please.”

  The voice arrives inquiring, “Why are you so agitated?”

  “I need your advice.”

  “I am listening.” He is gentle. “First close your eyes and connect with God.”

  “I do not believe in God and prefer my reflection.”

  “Let me know when you are ready.”

  I do a short contemplation. “We can begin.”

  “You need to go back for your tutoring. We can continue along the way.”

  “I am nervous because I must ask Abram how to fix my troubles. My fear says he will think less of me.”

  “Abram is a religious man, and he is trying to teach the mysteries of the Holy Spirit to those of your world. God hoped for religion to be a way to share and not oppress. What can Abram teach you about your troubles?”

  “How to fix them so I can go home.”

  “Can you not do this yourself?”

  “I do not think so.”

  “No one knows you as well as you do.”

  “That is true but I am not clever. Let me ponder on that.” I weigh his remark and that much is right. “Perhaps Abram’s teachings will give me the answer. One more thing. The others in class are doing far better than I am. Resheph assures me this is not true, but I do not trust him.”

  “Why do you not believe him?”

  “He cares for me, and sometimes he is my protector. He might hide the truth if it would hurt me.”

  “Say more.”

  “I have trouble grasping how to do better with Abram’s teachings. I do them with my full heart but am not sure my understanding is good enough.”

  “You said the same before.”

  “Abram has so much to teach us.”

  “Like the soul’s needs we spoke about?”

  “Yes, yes. Like that. I miss the mark. Some teachings fix themselves in my head, but they are not yet a part of me. I cannot explain them to anyone. I am not able to put the ideas together for myself or anyone else. They are a mystery.”

  “Would you say it is too soon?”

  “Please do not say that. I would swallow them whole and have it go through my body into my blood. Become my blood. Then I know they belong, and I can translate them into another song. I need to have knowledge of those sentiments.”

  “The fact is that humans feel many things but go through your world in a muddle. Put a name to your feelings. Once you do, there will be less trouble composing and your songs will be outstanding.”

  What does one have to do with the other? I am at the gate to the house. “I decided what I want to do. Teach others with my songs and show them the way to heal and find contentment. This is a worthy undertaking.”

  “There is more.”

  “I am afraid to tell Resheph my vision for the future and fear how he will react. I need him to respect what I choose for my life. Women are valued by men as wife and mother and I want that too, but I also yearn to follow what calls me. The passion for music fills my heart the way the passion for Resheph does. I pray he agrees.”

  “Think about songs and Resheph and whether they are wants or needs.”

  “Why?” Sandalphon does not answer. “You are not around me anymore.” He whispers in my ear. “Do not ignore putting names to your feelings. Your songs will blossom.”

  I stand outside needing time to be present with my surroundings. Wants. Needs. Name feelings. I open the door.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  We are on our pillows waiting with patience for Abram. Most of the students whisper and gossip about why he might be late. I do not listen. If Abram is late, he has a good reason. Resheph is chatting with the men. He is even more handsome in the pale light, and my heart opens to him. All I want is to see him, listen to his voice, and watch his every move. Most of all I long to be near him and touch him, though he pretends I am not there. He glances my way oft en enough not to be an accident. I turn my head before he catches me.

  An understanding came to me after I spoke with Kotharat. Abram’s teaching is not about good and bad or right and wrong. The contrasts are two ends of the same tree trunk and equal. They exist so we can experience them to understand both. I am pleased with my conclusion.

  Abram’s arrival interrupts my reflections. He gives no apology. “What came to my attention is your need for an important exercise. Get ready and sit with ease on your pillows. You may also lie down. Close your eyes and take a few deep breaths.” He paces across the front of the room. “Imagine you are in front of a large pair of doors. Use your will and they will open. Go inside when you are able.”

  Abram’s voice is so far away I cannot make it out. Behind my eyes are thick, heavy, black, menacing doors of wood. The building is made of stones larger than any in this land. They belong to another time, a time in the future. I pull on the handle with every bit of strength I have and the door opens a sliver.

  Flattening myself to get through the opening, the edge of the door scrapes at my back. Murky darkness makes it hard to adjust my eyes. Oil lamps mark the sides of the great hall and light themselves as I pass on my way to an enormous room.

  In front of me are uncountable barred enclosures lining both sides of the walls. There is a person in each one. The whites of the prisoner’s eyes shine. With deliberate steps I move closer to the first one. Ima stands and stares at me. The next pen holds my father. His head is in his hands. Then my grandmother and Nathan. The other pens are filled with all the villagers including the children. Why are they here? Each confine holds someone who was part of my life.

  The prisoners stare at me without any expression. “Why am I here? What does this mean?” Their silence is disturbing. Did I put them in the pens? I need to do something but do not know what. I search for understanding and find no answer. I continue to walk and one word comes to me. “Forgive.”

  Awareness of time is lost, as one by one, I go to each pen, gaze into the eyes of the prisoner, and say, “I hereby pardon you for any wounds, abuses, affronts, or crit
icisms you made. If you are able, please pardon me for any difficulties I caused.” With that done, I open each pen and set them free.

  My eyes close against the strong sun when I walk out of the darkness. The outside air is refreshing. A fascinating freedom is released in me. My heart is settled and I dance with wonder and lightness. I return to class and the colors are clearer, purer, sparkling. Even the faces of my classmates are softer, gentler, happier. Did my face change? What about forgiving Qayin and Kotharat? I am not ready.

  I now live with the fear of putting people back in the pens. During the next few moon cycles, Kotharat continues to give me more to do and complains about how I do it. I ponder on how to not blame her for the extra work and Resheph for making fun of me. He hears me grumble and laughs. All attempts fail.

  “Sandalphon, where are you? I need help.”

  His colors glow with a strength not seen before. Yellow stands out. “I am here, Elisha.”

  “I am glad to see you. Two problems need guidance.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  Of course he knows. “It is strange to know that my knowledge is now greater than my father and Nathan.” We both laugh. “After the exercise about the pens, clarity, lightness, and joy ran through me. Now uncertainty has taken their place.”

  “What needs explaining?”

  “I am afraid to act or speak, knowing one misstep may cause me to put people back in a pen.”

  “Continue.”

  “How do I move ahead? I understand we sometimes hurt others and do not realize what we did. I cannot think about it any further.”

  “A lack of understanding is preventing you from finding a solution. Who do you most need to release?”

  The name comes to me right away. “Kotharat.”

  “She is a proper choice to start. Not too close to you and you do not know her long.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Practice what Abram taught. Find out if you can release her. Try to come to a better understanding of who she is and why she acts the way she does.”

  “Sandalphon, you know I tried, but nothing happens.”