Danny's Mind: A Tale of Teenage Mysticism and Heavenly Power
Page 8
Chapter 7
You see, as teens, we live in a sort of gap—a special in-between state of unconditioned mind. The child’s world of fantasy slipping away; the adult serious-world not yet hardening our senses and our access to the deeper truths. This gap in our lives, is the gap of opportunity in our still unconditioned minds. We can experience, before it’s too late, who we really are—our formless, forever, heavenly selves. We can carry that powerful knowing with always us in whatever we do or whatever happens. We can live, play, win, lose fully…and fearlessly.
- From His Recorded Words
When Monday came and I got to school I heard that a crowd was gathering around Danny near the gym. My first thought was that Tim Hanson and his boys were picking on him again. I burned through the hallways to get there.
But something else was going on. Danny was surrounded, but not by the usual tormentors. This time it was half a dozen girls. Some of Michelle’s friends I think, though Michelle and Sally weren’t there; but then I knew they had their morning cheerleading practices. It was perfectly peaceful, yet there was an excitement about it. Michelle must have been telling her Danny story to more than just Tim. I hung back a bit. Some of the girls were pressing in, chatting away all at once so that I couldn’t make out the words, that is, until one girl asked very loudly, “Did you really mind meld with Michelle’s Aunt?”
Up to that point, Danny had been smiling, but the mind-meld question definitely cracked him up. You would have thought the girls were spinning him around bodily, but it was really just Danny turning to each of their questions. I didn’t like it, this strange attention he was getting. And I sort of wished they were teasing him, and that they were guys, so I could bust a few heads.
“And it didn’t hurt?” one girl asked.
“You didn’t feel sad or alone?”asked another.
Finally he just held his hands up and said, “Imagine this. Imagine falling out of a plane and your parachute doesn’t open. You’re falling, falling, falling. And you know you’re going hit the ground, that’s it. You’ll be dead. And then you hit the ground. And you don’t die. You don’t go splat. In fact, it doesn’t hurt at all, and you stand up fine and dandy. Imagine how lucky and alive you would feel. What a miracle to be alive. And how beautiful would the world be in that moment?” As they wanted more, he said, “Sorry. That’s…” And he just shook his head with a helpless grin.
The bell rang at that point and everyone began shuffling to class. I grabbed Danny by the arm—he was just sort of standing there—and pulled him along with me. I asked him what was going on.
“They just wanted to know what it was like.”
“What?”
“Dying,” he said, laughing to himself.
“By falling out of a plane?”
“I told them something they might understand. I had to tell them something.”
“That’s sick. Stay away from those weirdoes, and don’t talk about that stuff. Really, what do you know about jumping out of a plane?”
“Don’t get all lathered up. It’ll probably all go away now.” He was still shaking with laughter. I figured he liked the attention from the girls.
The morning didn’t start off well. At one point, in third period astronomy, I noticed the space in front of my desk grow dark and I looked up to see Mr. Trembly, the teacher, standing right in front of me. He said crossly, “Mr. Maddy, did you hear what I just said?” My sour, “Not especially” was not what he was looking for and he moved me to the front. After that I listened with an attentive look—I think he was discussing the speed of light—while I pictured what it might be like to fall out of a plane, hit the ground, and walk away. I decided it would feel pretty good.
At lunch I went looking for Danny but couldn’t find him anywhere in school. Across the cafeteria floor, I saw Sally sitting eating with some friends. She waved her hand shyly in my direction. I approached rapidly, like I was going to greet her, but halted short at another table to get an apple from Barry Nichols—a kid I’d beat up way back in fourth grade but who still was a grateful contributor to my lunches. I patted his back as if to thank him and noted the frown on Sally’s face as I headed out to the school stadium to have my snack and watch football drills from under the bleachers.
Just the year before I had been a member of the team, with a chance to be the “best linebacker in the region if you apply yourself” according to coach Stevens. “You’re big, you’re fast as hell, and there’s no reason you can’t go all the way.” I’m not sure what “all the way” meant, and Dad thought they were just jerking me around. But I was having some problems at home at the time anyway and didn’t apply myself to much except beating people up, tossing food in the cafeteria, making smart-aleck remarks to teachers, and getting a long string of Ds. This was when I almost got kicked out of school, but Principal Steele took some pity because of my home situation and instead put me on probation with a promise not to get into anymore fights. On the other hand, he did kick me off the football team. Coach wasn’t happy, but it didn’t bother me much. Practices were exhausting, two a day in August, and the no-equipment lunch drills prior to games. I didn’t really have any friends on the team, except my linebacker mate, Steve Kinney. Everyone else had real families and wore clothes that weren’t ripped or unwashed and I felt out of place in the hallways hanging with the “Have-It-All” crowd. To be honest, I was almost glad when I was off the team and no longer had to try. I still liked the game though, which was why I occasionally watched the lunch time drills from under the bleachers.
The football players were practicing their formations at quarter-speed in their street clothes. They did this on their own to get the timing on any new audibles right before upcoming games. I was listening to Tim’s voice calling out the familiar , “Ten forty-eight. Ten forty-eight. Hut, hut, hut”, when a pair of slender legs in black pumps and another pair of skinny, faded jeans in worn-out tennis shoes passed down the bleacher in front of me. Through the slit I couldn’t see above the knees, but the tennis shoes were familiar and the voices I knew for certain. It was Danny and Michelle. I followed underneath as they walked to an out-of-the-way corner nook in the brick stadium, where you’d barely be able to see the practice on the field. The pumps turned directly to the tennis shoes, “I’m sorry about what happened this morning. I didn’t know anyone was going to ambush you like that. I’m afraid I’ve shared some of the things that you’ve done for Aunt Polly.”
“I don’t mind. Joe thinks it’s getting a little weird.” Danny chuckled.
Michelle spoke, sounding impatient, “Danny, are you ready yet? And don’t give me any silliness about falling out of planes. I heard about that. You know a lot more. What really happened to you, and what’s going to…what’s happening to Aunt Polly? I know you can tell me something. Aunt Polly won’t, or cant. She just says everything is all right now, and I should relax. But I’ve seen too much, Danny. You’ve changed her. Please don’t keep me out of this.”
The sounds of the football players on the opposite side of the football field had dimmed to near silence. Danny said, “Michelle, I’m not sure I can tell you what happened to me…not in words, alone.”
“I promise I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you want,” Michelle said. I was thinking it would be hard to deny a determined Miss Connelly pretty much anything.
Danny said, “No matter how I try to translate it into nouns and verbs, it comes out sounding like a Disneyland ride or a Harry Potter book. That’s wrong, and dangerous. You can’t reduce Heaven to words. They’re too tiny; you speak them and the meaning stops. A word spoken in Heaven would go on to infinity.”
“Danny, if you’ll just try, I’ll do my best to—“
“Soooooo, this is what we’ll do. I will give you the best description in words I can. But I don’t want you to ever share it. It’s too…people won’t understand.”
“I promise.”
“How?”
“I have an experiment. It’s something I’ve been thinking about since Aunt Polly. I’m calling it…headlessness. It might be fun.”
“Danny, I’ll try whatever you ask me to.”
“Good. Now close your eyes, cup them in your palms. Make it dark. Settle in. No thinking. No mental pictures. Let go of all your mind. Listen.”
I didn’t palm my eyes or let go of my mind. But this is what I heard.