The Celestial Sea

by Marina de Nadous

  He has big plans for his step into the role of Worthy Steward of his money——The Good Shepherd——where he creates money through worthwhile, important and joy-filled work. And as it comes to him——happily——he greets it and gives thanks. The Master, the caring Shepherd——he tends it well. It is safe. He will pasture it——watch over it carefully——attend to its needs with gratitude and respect. The money lays still and quiet——trusting——waiting his command. And when he sends it forth it knows he has thought carefully about where to——that it is going to worthwhile endeavours and will be useful for the betterment of the world. He sends it forth with love, thanks, discernment, but loving detachment——freed up. This Shepherd——this Shepherd needs his Lady now.

  Mouse: She has been waiting for his lyric. Sweet melody of word and image lap at the threshold of her mind. She will re-read the messages many times——they will gently fill her——nourish her——maintaining her need to drink from this elixir. She lies still and sleepy, touching his cheek with hers——kissing his neck and running her hand over his masculine beauty. She loves him——she yearns for him——she——she is so excited by all that he has learnt this weekend trough his ‘Stewardship of Money Course’. She can sense the huge impact. Strangely, she has been toying with business plans herself——would like to ask how to treat them; how to hold them. Come home soon, My Love. Let’s unwrap these treasures together, quietly and considered, one at a time. I am sinking myself into you, My Lord Swallow——blissful, glorious sinking——X

  Adrian: She is part of his plans——his rock and resting place——his confessor——adviser——his trusted companion——his partner——business partner. He would like to arrange regular business meetings where a financial report is presented; a witnessing and celebration of all that money has done in the week. What was created——what was sent forth——what pastures need tending, maintaining or preparing. What shelters need building——how The Shepherd’s year will flow.

  Mouse: Darling Shepherd——who’s Lady feeds and tends his sheep dog and sheep dog’s hairy companion. Your Lady is here on our Mountain pastureland, awaiting her Lord. The air is still, her heart is beating fast. The animals cluster. The kinder sleep on and the joys of the eternal lunch-box beckon——X

  P.s I LOVE YOU X. Will I see you today? I have just organized my time——am free except for the purchasing of fodder for the Castle storeroom. What da plan? Make sure you build in quiet, processing time. I’m here for whenever My Lord Swallow beckons——X

  Adrian: I’m home in time for guitar lessons. Any advance on 5.30p.m?

  Mouse: Tricky——depends on Laird. He may have a school board meeting. I might be able to leave Cedric in charge and escape for a while——will let you know. Have a good trip home, Sir——X

  I can’t wait for this afternoon. The longer we are together the deeper our desire for each other. Is this level of intensity usual? Will it ever fade? Our connection opens unbelievable doors——and windows——and Gates. The prize is extraordinary and fragile. What does the future hold?

  Midday, Adrian: Nearly airborne——delayed by an hour. Might be late for guitar. Could you be my messenger when I know my school arrival time? Ashley, Thomas and Siobhan may have to be cancelled. On board!!

  Mouse: Certainly, My Friend——just let me know your timings. Happy trip. X

  * * * * * * *

  Later in the afternoon, Adrian: I’m three minutes away from school.

  Mouse: So am I, Sir. Well done. Speedy work. There is an early meeting at School now. Have fed my gang. Could escape The Castle stronghold 5.15—7.15. Everglades? But perhaps you need to be left in peace. Whatever——fine by me. Could bring a snackerel——X

  Adrian: Probably no chance tonight. Guitar lesson, then a meal at the Kindergarten teacher’s house, then moving the caravan at 7.0p.m. Tomorrow——

  Mouse: Tomorrow then, have a good evening.

  I am disappointed. I am longing for my man. I suppose I shouldn’t expect to see him so often. He is a busy person, and I have my family commitments.

  Late p.m. Adrian: How are you Mouse? Can you call me?

  Adrian must sense my upset. My last text was unusually short. He telephones as soon as he can and we chat for a long time. He doesn’t speak of my disappointment, but I can tell. He is sensitive and intuitive in ways so often foreign to men. I hear more about the weekend and the reverent handling of finance. Together, we get excited about budgets and disciplined financial systems held in a new way. Perhaps if we share a future one day we could implement the principals. I expect our present, limited situation won’t allow us the time. But goodness me, how we ignite each other with the possibilities! Time and again, an endless supply of thrilling ideas and idealism bounces off each of us in a mounting sparkle.

  I dream of long, long days with Adrian; days to garden, to plan, to cook, to create and to lie snoozing in the sun. I notice the subtle change in Lord Swallow tonight. He is calmer; more rooted in his excitement, definitely more centred. We speak of the new caravan; of what it signifies——a fresh start for him maybe? He is moving it temporarily to a friend’s land. {Not Lois’ land}. “I might start my woodwork enterprise there,” he suggests. Acknowledging the many business ideas, we say goodbye and part for the night. Adrian remembers that it’s my birthday this month. We are close and warm——“tomorrow then.”

  Tuesday 7th November 2006

  A.m. Adrian: Struggling to surface this morn. Dreams of crazy parties where too many things were happening——children——swimming pools——dangerous diving——music——people——too much——too hectic——too much responsibility. Pretty good reflection of my swirling mind. Might just have a survival day and regroup with you in my arms. Sure has been a rich time with a lot of worthwhile projects and tasks going on. These can quickly turn into ‘have to’s’——pressures——fodder for the mind-talk. “Takes on too much——dreamer——hopeless——irresponsible teacher——can’t keep up.”

  And the ‘Gertrude’ mothers of this world grow big and accusing in my mind——“You do not teach my daughter vell enough. I vill complain and vill have you removed. I vill resent you and make you squvirm.” All lies——but——hard to refute when I’m still getting clear and don’t have my plans straight. “But you SHOULD have had it organized——SHOULD have planned for this and been ready. You knew it was coming up.” So, My Love, this is my state and it feels helpful——relieving to write and confess. I think that you are already a Dashing Mouse, so hope you’re not fed up with my processing. More mind-talk. I love you. Can you handle this? Can you? Come to me. Tell me your truths.

  Mouse: Sounds good, My Friend. A reflective time we shall have together. Looking forward to seeing you——‘softly——gently——quietly’——X

  P.s My Darling, I can handle it all. Need to be in your arms soon. Loving you.

  The outdoor pools have reopened. Summer is on the way. I can’t wait to swim again. I need to get fit. I walk The Bog-Brush on the sands at Monument Park and enjoy a peaceful half-hour in the warm water this afternoon. The sun is strong; bliss.

  Midday, Mouse: Swimming this week for her. New regime like last February. Memories of watching him teach the class from the water’s edge. Memories of meditative space and Workshop story writing with each stroke. Now, sunlight freckled water——nobody about——her course set. Strong breaststroke, as the prow of their beautiful Boat parts the water in calm swathes. She notices flickering patterns on the pool floor; thoughts of the writer, Richard Bach——parallel lifetimes.

  Here she is, as far away from home as is possible——and here he stood——waiting for her——although he did not realize. Nine months later and she is here again. This time all is different. Her daydream has taken root; their connection shooting and flowering in astonishing beauty from conception to birth, surprising them both. A Mystical Boat is sailing them across uncharted seas. Looking up she spies a turret roof in the park playground and a flock of birds t
hat circle the perfection of the moment. It is theirs for the taking——if held in reverence. She opens her eyes wide——and understands.

  Adrian and I spend the afternoon in ‘The Everglades’. Today he gives me a ‘life-shock’, saying The Laird had put the wind up members of the Board of Trustees yesterday evening. He had been over-bearing and arrogant, making Big J. and some of the others uncomfortable. I know he finds Big J. difficult and his strong adherence to ethic and logic can be belligerent; bullying even. Coupled with his inbuilt dislike of women on an unacknowledged level, I can imagine the scene. Adrian wasn’t told actual details. Reaching for his trusty notebook he puts me through a process to deal with my reaction. I find it interesting to note how I come up with a speedy solution but am reluctant to explore my feelings on a deeper level. This is where Adrian is so good for me. He makes me address issues, head on; no ducking away.

  We lie close and still. We kiss for long, long minutes. We look honestly into each other’s eyes and souls. We——we are disturbed by the mobile phone——The Laird——strange how many times he has phoned while I am with Adrian. His psyche must know I am with another. Lord Swallow is always rattled by these jolts back into the world of my marriage. Now it is his turn to be ‘life-shocked.’ I suppose I am being unfair and selfish. I risk losing both the men in my life.

  We conclude our afternoon with a big discussion about the business and financial ideas from the weekend. We even draw up a weekly timetable. Our unstoppable energy takes us forward in leaps and bounds, despite the ‘life-shocks’. How we love to be together.

  P.m. Mouse: Am at Tui Park for 50 mins. Waiting for kinder. Thinking of you as I dabble my toes in the water. Am working through business strategies. Good luck for your evening with Little J. {Class 1 teacher}.

  I arrive home to the normal rounds of food preparation and housework. My pet chicken comes through the cat-flap; now permanently open since The Bog-Brush tore off the flap. ‘Wonky’ is my friend. One of our hand-raised chicks, he is disabled with a peculiar beak that crosses over itself in a comic twist. We feed him soft porridge, sometimes winning with a piece of whole corn when we can hold his head still. He eyes me with quiet interest, pecking my teeth if I smile too much. I like him and he likes me. We are becoming the best of chums.

  Adrian: Hello, My Dear. Hope your evening is unfolding pleasantly? Meeting with Little J. went very well——deep resolutions. Parent evening was quite pleasant too. Talked about the coming School Fair; that woke it up for me. Better get going on the entertainment, seeing as it’s down to me again——Eek! Lovely ‘catch-up’ today——thanks. Look forward to next business meeting tomorrow. Sleep well. Text me if you’re able——X

  Mouse: Hello, My Friend. Rain lashes the Castle. Kinder sleep. Laird snoozing on Rinky’s bed, {usual state of affairs after story-telling}. Your Lady would like to curl up in your bed——ho hum. Have tried your phone but you are engaged. My desk is glaring at me. I’ve had a wee kip——disturbed by dog. Sending you special love. Would like to chat before Laird wakes——X

  Adrian: Call me now——might be dodgy though. Could you bring down little tree loppers tomorrow? For cutting bamboo flagpoles for Fair——just while I remember. Love——X

  We finish the day with a quiet phone call; Adrian plans to spend tomorrow afternoon on our Mountain. I replace the receiver and sigh. This man is filling me——totally.

  Late P.m. Mouse: Hi Darling, will bring loppers tomorrow. Can you do something for me? Do you still have the e-mails I sent while you were in Europe? I didn’t save them for obvious reasons and we need them for our Book. Can you print them off? If they still exist? Many thanks. All still dead to the world here. Little Mouse busies along. Wish I could undress you slowly and love you from top to toe——X

  Adrian: Mmm——Just nodding off. Yes, I have a copy of all the e-mails. Tomorrow then——X

  Chapter 2 Tomorrow

  Wednesday 8th November 2006

  A.m Adrian: These days, so full of rich experience, must take more from our Hero than he accounts for. Awaking heavy——ponderous——lacking spark. Aha, he recalls supping last night on Kamut flour apple turnovers made by our own Cordelia——the explanation for his digestive discomfort combined with the self-reproach that haunts him. His mind scolds him——greedy——mistake maker——silly——you knew it wasn’t a good idea——now look at you——no control of self. But the truth——one more time: he has swamped himself with food and experience. Now he wonders how to rise. His planning lies unstarted beside him. A decision moves——a choice: lie quiet and gentle; let the love and ideas flow without pressure. Dream and care for yourself——touch the gratitude——the humility——forgive yourself——learn from this——more control next time. Heed the warnings with more awareness. But for now——touch and warmth and gentleness. Love for self is the order of the day.

  Thinking of The Laird——our sleeping together would slay him. I would like to honour him in that. I suggest that we have no whoopee until it’s clear to him what things will look like; his blessing while he is away. My dog has just washed my feet——reminded me of service——Christ’s humble deed. That sparked my thought of The Laird; some link to humble integrity and our psychic connection is too strong. We would hurt him and confuse him, I’m sure.

  Mouse: Darling Friend——you are right, as always. Can you send the text again? For some reason it was deleted——wonder why? Our main line is definitely on the blink. Love you so much. We will have to make do with food instead——but not Kamut flour! ——X

  Why don’t I feel guilt at hurting my husband? Is our married relationship so lacking in private emotion that I can’t imagine anything knocking The Laird’s one-dimensional mind-set? Do I intuitively sense the inevitability of the bond Adrian and I share? The waters we sail don’t wash onto my domestic shoreline. Why do I feel so steady? So sure?

  Later, Mouse: Hi Friend, can you try ringing me on the landline? Laird is out. I just tried you but there may be a fault on the line. Need to check it out. Would like to whisper “good morning” in your ear——just briefly, as we are both busy. Did you manage to print out those e-mails for me? The story would be incomplete without them.

  Adrian: Waves of Love and admiration for you, my writer——so sure about this Book; watching your skill unfold with natural ease. A master——confidence and talent joining forces. Write, My Love——tell My Darling——share this tale of truth. Yum. See you soon.

  Mouse: Thank-you, My Friend. Your lyric, with my words——mmm. “There’s a window open, there’s a curtain flapping; a man and a woman, sleeping in each other’s arms”, {from a favourite song—‘Eugene’s wife’}. I’m waking in you——our matched response triggers the Dance. I feel your long limbs cover mine. I know the form of you molded with my body; like the wind and rain, like tears and laughter, like mountains and rivers——moving in poetry——a natural unity. I feel your hand on my waist, your breath whispering in my ear and your masculinity firm against my thigh——mmm——X. With Love from your Mouse on a dark, mizzly Mountain——X

  I consider Adrian’s earlier message as I drive home at lunchtime. His sentiment is right and yet——I know he will find it impossible to refrain from our sacred intimacy, as indeed will I. ‘The Spirit is willing but the flesh is weak’——that phrase makes no sense when spirit and flesh are united so perfectly. And why was his text erased the first time it was sent? Is there something other at play here? And if so, what?

  Midday, Mouse: Darling Friend—completely forgot to buy spreadsheet diary planners. Am now at home. Don’t go out of your way, but can you dive into the stationery shop in Waikite Bay? I need a red clipboard too——I’ve seen one that would replace the latest Bog-Brush wreckage. I’ll pay for it. Loving you——M——X

  Adrian: Let’s not worry today. Time together is more important. I’m on my way now. Raging arousal——hmm.

  Mouse: Drive carefully, My Love. Tis wild and blowy on our Mountain. So, we might need to
take a cold shower? Your Lady’s heart is beating fast——but the floors need sweeping and the house is chaotic. Wonky has just pooped all over me! Amour unabated, I grab the broom. Come to me——X

  We spend a productive afternoon together. After a light lunch Adrian sketches out a plan of our Mountain and we study my weekend, business figures. With coloured pencils and inspiration flying we work contentedly, leaving ourselves forty minutes for a cosy sofa cuddle. As is increasingly the case, my Lover questions our integrity while we lie wrapped up together. As our union becomes more serious I notice his anxieties escalate. I don’t think he ever imagined our initial friendship would develop in this way. I leave to collect the children from school. The Laird is away again this evening. My husband never seems to be at home these days. His usual pace of non-stop activity takes him into different parts of town whenever he is free. We aren’t living in a boarding school anymore and The Mountain is a fair distance from all the action.

  Early p.m. Mouse: Don’t feel badly, My Darling——you are full of beautiful integrity. We were holding and protecting The Laird. You honoured him by not taking me. Your masculine needs are stronger than the female. I need to give you that; to feel you move with me; to know that I honour My Man as only his Woman can. Loving you so much——X

  Adrian: Thank-you. I did get a bit closed down——strange and puzzling I mean. I’ll look at that. Go well, My Lover——X

  Mouse: Just seen The Laird. We felt warm and happy. Our ‘holding’ worked well. The Angels’ heavenly dusting. He’s away again now——X

  P.s Hope you are feeling better? Would you like a goodnight call? All’s clear here for a while longer. Don’t worry if you are stuck into something. I am free if you would like a whisper——X

  Adrian: Please call now, My Lover——

  Thursday 9th November 2006

  A.m. Adrian: There’s an edge——a keen and cutting edge——above it; indulgence, below it; fear. He wakes and seeks it. His digestive heaviness clouds it. Where? It lies through the fog of mind-talk——through the mists of have-to’s and musts. Sometimes a mere breath will find it——it’s like the clean, effortless strike of a sharp plane; cutting a veneer, a sliver of wood——not clogged and skimming, nor too deep and catching. The perfect balance where all come together. The edge.