Journey to the Higher Mind

  

 *This story stopped short of what it could have been simply because there was a  17,000 word limit in its original purpose. I haven’t revisited it since it was originally written but hopefully you will still find it to be an interesting read.

Journey to the Higher Mind ©

By

La’Kisha DéVon Jordan

“Chŏn chonggyoga ŏpsoyo.” I lifted my head up from my mealtime prayer to meet eyes with a grinning, and partially teethed, elderly man whose wrinkled face was far more kind than handsome. His bald head and ashen robe signified that he must have been a respected man in these parts… a monk.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Hangu-gŏ, anio.”
He laughed and clapped his hands saying, “Ne… Miguk!” I thought the conversation would end like most of them did once he realized I was not fluent in Korean. He caught me by surprise with a quick change to a strong command of English.
“You do not understand the language. Luckily, I have mastered many languages. Please, join me. We will speak in English.”
My mind raced as I questioned myself about if it was okay to join a man of the temple at dinner. I pulled out my guidebook and tried to find something sort of lead. My manic flipping of pages ceased when he patted the seat next to him.
I had no idea if I was doing the right thing but I carried my bowl of kalbit’ang over to his table and sat down. I instantly became lost in thoughts of what etiquette I should be following since he was both elder to me and a religious man. There were so many rules to everything here and I messed up often. I was raised Catholic, so I figured learning rules would come to me more easily. I considered the custom of pouring him a drink but there was no setting on his table. Since he was a monk, maybe he couldn’t drink. By then I was fidgeting quite a bit and started twirling one of my thick dark tresses around my finger. I didn’t think I should be making eye contact, so I just stared into my bowl and watched the beef riblets float in the golden broth.
“You are American. Be American. Just eat. No worries of rules with me.”
I was embarrassed that my internal dilemma was that obvious but I thanked him for rescuing me from it. He introduced himself to me as Hahn after I had already starting eating. After a near choking gulp, I told him my name… Jennifer Cates.
“I will call you Sŏnsaengnim.” I asked him how he knew I was a teacher since I never said it. He laughed as if I had asked the silliest question in the world but he gave no reason for his humor in it. His lack of answering left an awkward gap in our communication. Seeing a need for a change of subject, I asked him what he would be having for dinner but it led to more silence and a smiling gesture for me to continue with my meal. Joining someone to sit in silence was a bit of a maddening concept to me, so I fished for more topics.
“When you first spoke to me, you spoke in Korean. What did you say?”
He shook his head and chuckled while imitating the sign of the cross.
“I was funny. No. No. Wrong word. It has been a while since I have used my English. I was amused by the action. So, I said to you, ‘Chŏn chonggyoga ŏpsoyo.’ It means I have no religion.”
I was offended and confused. “Aren’t you a Buddhist? It is a religion, right?”
Hahn clarified that I was mistaken. He asked me why I allow myself to be contained by religion when what we have is so much bigger than it. He said religion is not healthy because it drives us away from our true existence.
“Religion is of the lower mind,” he emphasized as he tapped his temple with his index finger. This was a conversation that I did not want to have. I learned long ago to avoid all things that involved religion or politics and so, again, I changed subjects.
When I grew tired, I politely excused myself so I could return to my apartment. Before I stood to walk away, he reached as if to caress my cheek while commenting about my bronze skin and cerulean eyes. I pulled back fast. “Interesting new look,” he said. He just continued to smile as if there was something he knew. I quickened my steps to the exit.
When I reached the door, he bellowed out, “See you again, Sŏnsaengnim!”
I put on the best fake smile I could muster and nodded. I knew that I did not want to see this strange old man again. Though Cheongdo-gun is rural, I somehow managed to bump into the most peculiar people. I had no idea where they came from. Perhaps they were train travelers from Busan or Daegu. Either way, I wanted to be left alone. I was there to teach, enjoy the scenery and have a little peace for a change. No crazy boyfriend stalking my every move. No parents trying to convince me to join the family business and stay in Rhode Island forever and, best of all, no bills. All in exchange for teaching a little English… best deal ever. It was my own little paradise that’s for sure.
When I finally slowed my pace, I noticed how lovely the evening was. It was autumn and the temperature was just perfect for an after dinner walk, so I wandered a bit. The farmers were still out and about selling their crops. Many tried to get my attention for the sale but I was not overly adventurous in my sampling habits anymore. It was all because of a bad choice for my palate that left me vomiting up boiled silkworm larvae. It was certainly not one of my finer moments.
I was eventually lured by an elderly woman wearing a purple flowered dress and straw sun-hat. I went with what I knew and bought a plastic container full of the dried version of the local fruit, kam, better known to me as persimmon. The fruited lined the lush landscape like orange lanterns. They were a great source of pride for the people of Cheongdo. I could see why. The taste was so uniquely sweet. I think I could live off of them and nothing else if it were possible.
As I nibbled my little treat, trying to ignore that I was still full from eating kalbit’ang, some people stared at me in the same way that I marveled at their land. I often forgot that I was in a place where I looked different than everyone else.
I had not left Cheongdo since my arrival but soon it would be vacation time. I would likely have the chance to mingle with other foreigners. I hadn’t fully made my plans but maybe I would do something interesting like take some music or dance lessons. I thought back to the parade I saw when I arrived. Rows of musicians were playing Janggo drums and they were dancing in a way that was regimented yet graceful. I could feel the rhythms go straight through to my bones. Surely I could pick up the art of it with enough practice. However, that musing left me quickly when I remembered how I quit music class in middle school because I couldn’t stand the lessons on reading notes. I just wanted to play songs. No one warned me that fractions would be involved.
When the scenic route to my apartment ended, I still couldn’t bear to go back inside just yet. Instead of returning, I sat outside near my favorite whimsical fountain, topped with a little boy peeing out water. Hearing the rush of water while watching the sunset was exactly what I needed to close out the long day. Just when I thought nothing could ruin the moment, I saw Hahn standing near the fighting bull statue with a dumb grin plastered on his face. He raised his hand and did a quick flutter with it that I had seen many times before. It meant he wanted me to come to him. I moved at a sluggish pace while wondering how in the world he ended up in my sacred space. He was going to waste even more of my precious time.
He may be a monk but I will be a bit rude, I thought, and he will never want to talk to me again. It’s like a stray cat. Don’t feed it and it won’t come back.
“I have been waiting for you.”
I did not like how he said that. It was a bit creepy, to say the least.
“Look, I know you may want an American friend but…”
He placed his hand on my shoulder and I felt a strange surge of energy radiate through my body. Hahn looked in my eyes and told me of our inyŏn and that we were destined to meet so he could tell me the secrets of eternity. I tried to walk away but for some reason my legs would not move. I opened my mouth to speak and, despite my efforts, there was not even a whisper from me. He told me that I needed to understand so I could fulfill my purpose. He turned and pointed at a high mountain in the distance and said he would be waiting for me at noon on Saturday.
Hahn walked away and my ability to move did not return to me until he had disappeared down a nearby alleyway. I ran to look and saw nothing but a few kids teasing each other. I asked if they had seen where the man went but they retreated at the sight of me. So many of them were afraid to speak English no matter how much they had learned. The worry of being wrong inhibited their ability to communicate. I suppose I understood in a way. Unfortunately, I was the same with the few Korean words that I had picked up.
Maybe my mind had made Hahn up, I thought. Maybe I was fragmenting since I have been such a recluse when not at work. By then, my head was throbbing. I made my way to my apartment, locked my door and peeked out the windows to be sure no one was there. Still nervous, I shoved my one large chair against the door.
That night, I tossed and turned because I was unable to evade the flashback of Hahn’s old smiling face. It was haunting and what was that strange surge when he touched me? I enclosed my head with the pillow to try to still everything. Eventually I did fall asleep but only a moment before my alarm went off. Just great!
At work, everyone noticed that I was not as upbeat as usual. Lee, one of the few teachers that spoke fluent English, told me that I looked sick and should go take rest in the nurse’s office. I knew I was only tired but I took advantage of the offer. Yet another perk about being in South Korea; health comes first and teachers are important people.
I slept much longer than I expected. The nurse woke me with service of hot green tea. She watched me as I sipped and asked, “Ŏlmana dwaessŏyo?” As usual I was lost and my face showed it. “Teacher… baby inside?” I nearly spit the tea out of my mouth in laughter at the impossible thought.
“Anio,” I said with a smirk.
She looked relieved that I had said no. In struggled communication and with pantomiming she said, “You enjoy vitamin. Exercise. Go mountain.” I was with her until she said, Go mountain. I had finally put Hahn out of my mind but there he was again. The next day would be Saturday and the last thing I wanted to do was go to any mountain where he might be.
As I filtered through different thoughts, it occurred to me that the nurse could know Hahn. When I asked her about him, her facial expression changed to a hard one. She picked up the phone and spoke Korean with such speed that I couldn’t make out one word. Before long, Lee appeared. “Come with me, Cates Teacher. We must talk.”
She led me downstairs where we took off our slippers and exchanged them for outdoor shoes. A few steps later, we were in the dirt yard where the students play. We began to walk its perimeter but she was gravely silent. Across from the mint green and pink school building was a verdant mountain scape. The only other visible building was a brick church with a white cross atop it. There were a few hang gliders overhead. It was so picturesque and, with the sun warming my skin, I had already forgotten that Lee had a reason for leading me out there.
“The nurse says that you were talking to someone named Hahn. Can you describe him?” When I gave her details about Hahn’s appearance, she probed me to retell every part of the interaction.
“You must stay away from Hahn. Even the police won’t go near him. He has bothered every teacher to come through here. Some have even left because of him.”
Lee explained that Hahn is not a monk and people don’t believe he is really among the living. She said that his records indicate that he is over two-hundred years old and some have reported seeing him walk through solid walls. None of what she was saying made sense to me but I listened to her folktale and only agreed with one thing I heard… stay away from Hahn. After we talked, I completed my daily duties which included spending mindless hours getting the children to repeat phrases from a teaching disc they had given me. Today’s lesson? “It’s okay.” I did not know why an hour was needed for that one phrase but if that’s what they felt worked best, so be it.
After I got home, I did what I always did. I chatted with old friends and family on social sites, exercised, ate dinner and watched the only English TV channel available. Just as night ushered in, my phone rang and, expecting no calls from America because no one ever called, I answered in Korean, “Yŏboseyo?”
There was nothing but static at first but it turned out to be Lee. She was just checking on me and gave me a few more reminders about not meeting with Hahn and how things would not be well for me in Cheongdo if I did. I thanked her for the call and took that as my cue to come out of my television stupor and get some shuteye. Watching a show about four desperate and lonely women chasing down sex partners was too depressing anyway. I hoped to never be like that. At least they had good fashion sense. On that lingering thought, I slept the night away. I had a dream that I was alone in a meadow at nighttime. I was dressed in clothes from The Renaissance and, when I looked up, the sky was dotted with large eyes instead of stars. Each was surrounded by a fanned light spectrum. I was reaching out to them but then everything went completely black.
I awoke with my heart racing. It seemed so real. After relaxing my mind, I took a shower, got dressed, and ate my meager breakfast of rice and eggs. Suddenly I was overcome with feelings of loneliness. I wanted to find more things to do outside of the apartment and outside of Cheongdo. I did some chores to bide my time while I thought some more on how I could improve things for myself. When I heard my washing machine chime, I tossed the load in a basket and headed to the balcony door so I could hang them on the clothesline. I screamed and dropped everything when I saw Hahn standing there.
How did he get there? There is no way up? The only access is from my kitchen. I felt like I was spinning in circles and then I crashed to the floor. Of all things to do when my life may have been at stake, I fainted. Who does that?
When I came to, the buildings of Cheongdo looked like mere ants from my position on the mountaintop. I felt my pockets to find my mobile phone but nothing was there. A few feet away, Hahn stood with his arms outstretched. He looked like the pictures I had seen of the giant Jesus statue in Brazil but, as far as I could tell, he was definitely no savior. To his sides were Jindo dogs, each sitting like they were royalty. A strange russet colored leather satchel, tattooed with unfamiliar symbols, rested on a nearby stone. My bet was that there were rapiers inside. Maybe the folktales were true. He probably was some sort of wraith. My mother warned me about Americans going overseas and never being heard of by anyone again. I was pretty sure this was going to be it for me too. I started praying.
“Why would I kill someone I have been waiting so long for?” Wait, did he hear my thoughts?
“How did I get up here? What did you do to me?”
“I am not a ghost. I am only at one.”
At one? What in the world could that possibly mean? He turned towards me and the dogs did the same. I flinched, thinking that they were going to devour me. He smiled and pulled a small silver whistle from his pocket. He blew it and it made no sound to my ears. The dogs ran to the path entry. The breeze brushed their white fur as they stood on guard.
I cried while scooting backwards along the ground. Hahn approached with a smile that brought no comfort.
Suddenly he said, “Your way of thinking is all wrong. I am of no harm to you.”
“Then why is everyone afraid of you here? Why did they tell me to stay away from you?”
“They fear truth,” he said while hunching his shoulders, “They avoid anything that is different and do not try to understand. It is poor logic. They only listen to the lower mind. The higher mind unlocks mysteries.”
“What do you want from me?”
Hahn came closer and sat next to me. I leaned away and he said, “You really don’t know who you are, do you? Many times, I made a mistake. I thought the other visitors were you. This time I was sure it’s you but you not know me.” His smile faded and his eyes held the dimness of great burden.
I do not know why but I allowed him to take my hand and pull me to a standing position. He placed his palm on my forehead. The feeling of energy flowing through my body overcame me. This time it was more intense. I could see and feel myself being born and dying over and over again, lifetime after lifetime as male, female, animals, insects, and more. It was centuries of lives and deaths… several were brutal murders.
Just before the reel of life stories ended, I saw myself being born to my mother in a birth pool. As she cradled me and called me Jennifer, I heard my thoughts. The thoughts were much like a grown-up voice even though I was a newborn. I declared that I would finally do what I was supposed to and that I had to find Hahn.
When Hahn removed his hand from my forehead, I was weak and sat back down. He got his satchel and pulled out a small bottle of kam wine. I was in a mind fog and drank without resisting. It went down with a slight sting that caused me to be more alert and spit it out. I accused him or sorcery or being the devil.
He laughed heartily. Wiping tears from his eyes and, still laughing, he assured me that he was neither a sorcerer nor Satan. I should have been fighting him and running but something unknown led me to persist in inquiry. Maybe I was seduced by my own cravings for adventure. Day phased into night and we continued to talk until there was a new wake of sun. I was weary but well-nourished from an array of snacks he had stored in his bag.
Watching the sun crawling towards the sky’s center, he told me that time was a concept developed by the lower mind.
“Most have completely forgotten the magnificence of life outside of containment.”
“What do you mean outside of containment?” I inquired.
“I will show you.”
Within seconds, Hahn’s body dropped to the ground. His essence was a swirl of sparkles and lights hovering above it. I saw no face and I saw no form yet I heard him just the same from this system of orbs.
I backed away and stumbled as I prayed feverishly.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, “Like the others, you just chose to forget. We are the same.”
Hahn’s essence reentered the body and reanimated itself. I thought I might faint again. He placed his hand on my shoulder and sent the energy through me. He begged me to continue to have patience and listen to what he had to say. He made every attempt to get me to understand that bodies are not what we perceive them to be and are not required to exist.
“You and I traveled through one lifespan with Francis. Well, Francis was his containment name. We had no use for names in the past. We just were. But, in that time with Francis, you were known to him as an Egyptian woman named Aieedah and I was still as I am, Hahn. You and Francis shared love and took on the containment way. You had a baby that you had to keep secret. The lower minds of that time would never have accepted your union because of pigment differences. They had no understanding that our sameness could only be outside of containment. So, secrets were safer.”
Hearing this only left a blank spot in my mind. I could not believe that I was entertaining the thought that there could be truth to any of it. Hahn persisted with his story of the shame of Francis falling so deep into his lower mind that he became sidetracked by our plan to free all from this system of self-inflicted suffering. By his telling, containments were a mistake. He asserted that the higher mind is love at its purest form. “Love is energy. Energy is life. You all prefer to live in this illusion. It is a poignant inertia.”
Hahn buried his head into his forearm and wept. I did not feel as though I was in a place to comfort him, so I helplessly watched until he stood up and paced in frustration.
“These containments brought about a dark emotion that we never had when we were at one… fear. These containments are also difficult to maintain. Now there is birth and death. All containments simply rot away in their own time, some faster than others.”
Hahn continued with discussion of poisonous formulas that have been passed off as sustenance and medicine. He told of secret agendas for attainment of symbols of false happiness that have been created by the lower minds. He named things that are common to everyone but spoke of them as if he had tasted something bitter just in listing them.
“Many of us still remember life outside of containment and want to give everyone the chance to return to it. Usually, we are tracked and killed by the ones who are also aware but like this new way of bodies, work, houses, cars, war, politics, religion… They are willing to die and come back just to do it all again, continuing a path of no memory if they can manage it.”
Hahn spoke of how everyone chases love and happiness but it can only truly be found outside of containment. He described us as synced entities and said that all of the pleasure sensors we have within containment are even more intense when we can float into the beyond and interconnect.
“And why isn’t this Francis person here with you?” I asked with suspicion more so than wonder.
“He released himself from containment.”
“Suicide?”
“No. Nothing like it.”
Hahn reached into a pocket and opened his hand in my direction. “Do you recognize this?”
“A whistle?”
“Yes but it is not just any whistle. This one is a dog whistle. It was just practice for Francis.”
“I don’t understand.”
He placed his hand over his heart while speaking. “Frequencies. Vibrations. All that we are. There isn’t much that actually holds these containments together. We can all be one again.”
Hahn told me that Francis designed three special whistles made of the rarest grades of precious metals found in Africa. The frequency output would cause release from containment throughout the entire world; the inanimate, the creatures, humans… all of us… free.
“What about nature?” I inquired with more skepticism.
“Don’t you see? We are nature.”
Nothing this man said to me made any sense. He kept waiting for me to have some big epiphany that I just wasn’t having.
“How can you leave your body without being released then?”
“No need for release with the higher mind.”
“And these whistles? Where are they?” I further interrogated.
“You hid them.”
“What do you mean I hid them?” I questioned in exasperation.
Hahn overwhelmed me with more far-fetched tales of a mad scientist, his theories and our roles as Francis’s assistants after he met us during his travels.
“He did not trust that life outside of containment could be better since he did not have true memory. He only had his discovery of the truth which he learned while in Africa. He learned it from you, Aieedah, the renowned seer in your land. When the two of you created your son, it made him more sympathetic to the cause of the lower minds. So, he experimented relentlessly, hoping to a make compromise between lower and higher minds. He sought to make perfect containments. He had even referred to his ideas with the lower mind name for it, Eugenics. By then, I could no longer take what I saw him turning into.”
Hahn went on about how Francis started writing down all these ideas and sharing them throughout the world. Some admired him and some hated him. Feeling no longer interested in trying, and having threats placed on his life as he knew it, he designed the whistles for future use and gave them to the only one he could trust with something so powerful.
It took a moment for me to realize that Hahn was talking about me.
Pride entered into Hahn’s voice when he told of how Francis mastered what the lower minds call meditation and released himself.
“People often see Francis as well as the many others who are no longer contained. The lower minds like to give everything a name. Some call this achievement Nirvana,” he mused.
“Where do they go? Is it heaven?”
“They are only above but have been reasoned away as a natural phenomenon. It is another lower mind concept… Aurora,” he said with a smug look. “Sometimes they come down for a while and are called ghosts,” he added with chuckle.
Hahn continued the story with details about how Francis’s study and laboratory was raided by the early Secret Service. He said they found out about everything and I had to run for my life when they came for me. Hahn said that thought it would be best if I went out on my own and he agreed to take our son back to my tribe in Egypt where he would be raised in safety. Hahn said that over the course of two years, I successfully hid the whistles in three places of travel before I was captured and beaten to death. According to him, only I knew where they were. The answer was in my higher mind.
Suddenly, the dogs at the path barked aggressively. Someone was coming. Hahn beckoned me to come and he pointed to a crevice just wide enough for me to hide in.
He placed his fingers to his lips and smiled the smile he had worn before this daunting conversation. He blew the dog whistle and the dogs calmed themselves, running to his side.
Two unkempt men approached.
“Annyŏng haseyo,” Hahn feigned.
The men spoke in Korean as well and I was lost in what changed from a polite exchange to shouting. One man grabbed Hahn’s satchel and rummaged through it. Finding nothing, he continued his shouting while pointing into the bag. I watched in fear not knowing whether to run, help or stay put. Just as one of the men glanced toward the crevice where I had been hiding, the dogs broke their silence and lashed out at the men. They went into full attack as the men fought back. Hahn looked at me in the way that someone does when saying a permanent goodbye. He nodded and left his body. His essence sifted out far into the distance beyond what my eyes could follow. It was then that I knew to run even though I did not know my way.
My mind was bogged down with too much information as I slipped and slid down treacherous pathways to get to the bottom.
I stopped when I saw a small, ornate, avocado colored temple with a shingled roof. Its exterior walls were so covered in art that I could barely make out the images aside from a woman wearing a hanbok and some koi. The smell of incense lingered in the air and gave me hope that someone would be worshipping inside but I only found golden statues of Buddha in different shapes and sizes.
My ankles were aching from trying to remain stable while running in those ridiculous house slippers that I still had on. I sat there sobbing, rubbing my feet and feeling quite sorry for myself until I heard the distinct sound of the men talking. I could see them with the dead Jindos hanging on their shoulders like trophies. Adrenaline rushed through me and I was on the move again. I went to great lengths to avoid being discovered. One stint of time was spent hiding among the branches of a tree as the menacing men passed me.
When I finally got to the base of the mountain, I saw a wide river lined with large stepping stones. I leapt along them as fast as I could but didn’t have much insight as to where I was standing in Cheongdo. At one point, my foot slipped off of a stepping stone and I fell in the water. Completely soaked, I stood up and slowly turned around to get my bearings.
I focused my eyes to the distance and I was relieved to see the church near the school. I used the steeple as my guide to get to the center of town for help. As I drew closer, exhaustion hit and I had developed a limp from the unsightly sores that had opened up on my feet. When I finally saw people, they would not speak with me. They scurried away or shouted at me. I knew I looked a mess but it was obvious I needed help. Why wouldn’t these people help me? At one point, I recognized one of my students. I stopped her and asked, “Su Hye-Min, help me. Give me a hand-phone please?” “Hand-phone? Ne Sŏnsaengnim,” she replied with a bow. Her mother came from inside the building and snatched her before she could give me the phone. By the tone of her voice I thought she was cursing and she spat at me before slamming the door.
I was in shock and banged on the door to no avail. I walked on in delirium. I had been gone for days. Shouldn’t they have all been searching for me? The more I walked, the more I felt outcast. After the full length of my trek, I was thankful to see my apartment building. When I arrived at my door, it was bolted shut with my suitcases outside. Around them were strange scrolls, miniature totems inscribed with Korean writing, burning candles and bowls of spoiled food. There was a large envelope on top of a suitcase. The first thing I pulled out was a note which read:
Dear Cates Teacher,
It is with regret that I share the news that you must leave Cheongdo. Some local farmers saw you and Hahn together. Others say you were both flying. There was an emergency town meeting and I was given the duty to write this letter informing you that, with approval of the Ministry of Education, your contract is immediately dissolved.
Enclosed please find a train ticket to Busan, parting funds and your ticket to destination Green Airport. I hope you receive this before the expiry. If not, the funds will assist you with a change of travel date. I will miss you Cates Teacher but do not try to contact me. All Cheongdo citizens have been banned from conversation with you and I can’t lose my position. Town leaders have already traveled by truck to announce the decree. Please understand. Good Luck.

     Sincerely,
     Lee Mun-Hee-Shi
Sure enough, along with my passport, the remaining contents of the envelope were as she had listed. I think I could feel my heart split in two and catch flame. What were all these beliefs in mystics and why me of all people? I am just a simple girl from Jamestown. I am not even sure what just happened to me. I am the victim here but being treated as a criminal. But if they didn’t want me here, fine! No need to stay anywhere that I am not welcome.
I was fortunate that the train station was situated nearby because no cab would come to me. On the way there, people whispered among themselves and moved away as they saw me. Out of frustration, I actually went outside of my character and growled at a set of women who were staring at me as if I was devil incarnate. If they were going to treat me like that, then I figured they deserved to be scared. They dropped their baskets and ran as fast as their little old legs could take them.
When I arrived at the train station, I went to the restroom and caught first sight of myself since the ordeal. With all the abrasions I looked like I got in a fight with a raccoon and it won. I did the best I could to tend to myself and freshen up. I looked semi-presentable when I was done. Seeing that I had some time before the train would arrive, I visited the little store inside the ticketing area. The storekeeper was usually so happy to see me so he could talk about America and want of a two dollar bill. This time he raised his hand up while shaking his head from left to right.
“No service.” He then spoke in Korean and the one word I could make out was the one that meant ghost. Angered, I slammed won on the counter and he jumped. I grabbed an aloe juice and a pack of sweet potato snacks before walking off. I am certain that the won I left behind was triple the value of the items I took. I could hear his hotheaded shouting behind me as I made my way to the steps that lead to the platform.
I felt anxious and began eating to help curb the stress of the situation. A policeman approached me with haste. When he reached me, he snatched my drink and snack from my hands. He shouted, appearing as though his head may burst open from pressure. I watched splashes of my drink come from the bottle and the sweet potato snacks roll one at a time like wheels across the platform. Veins pulsated in his forehead as he shoved one of my shoulders, causing me to stumble. I was frightened and took a few steps back while repeating, “Sagwa dŭrimnida.” It was one of the few things I memorized… words of apology.
The other ticket holders looked on at the spectacle. The only thing that saved me from his tirade was the arrival of the train. The officer manhandled me until I was onboard and continued to yell at me from outside of the train. I found a seat as far away as possible from the others that had gotten on. The passengers gawked at me for a while before becoming brain-dead and lost in their electronic devices. In that moment, nothing else in my life made sense aside from that familiar image. I wished I had my phone so I could call someone.
I looked out of the window to view the scenery going by at such speeds that the world was a blur. It lulled me into near hypnosis as I thought of nothing and everything at the same time. The hour went by so fast that I barely knew when I arrived in Busan. I was relieved to be in a place where no one recognized me. According to the ticket, the plane would depart the next day. I needed to find a hotel but before I went to the taxi zone, I stopped for a large cappuccino and an Italian inspired sandwich which turned out to have more of a Korean flavor edge. When I was almost done with my food, I noticed a commotion out in the marketplace area. I went to the window, as did the other patrons, and saw the most beautiful Aurora in the sky. “Hahn,” I whispered quizzically.
I got my luggage and wheeled it behind me. I stopped near the base of the escalator to watch the sky away from the crowd of people pointing and snapping photos. A gentle breeze swept over all of us and I began walking. A sense of calm was within me. I went to the taxi hub and entered the first one that arrived. The driver also paused and gazed upon the Aurora saying something softly in his own language. After a moment, I thought he had forgotten I was there so I interrupted him with my request to be taken to a nice hotel. He nodded with an utterance of Ne and smiled as he drove off. I reiterated that I wanted a nice hotel and not a love hotel.
He laughed and said, “Ne Sŏnsaengnim. Nice hotel.”
He called me teacher just like Hahn did. Curiosity got the best of me and I asked him how he knew I was a teacher. With a similar laugh as Hahn, he said, “In South Korea, every American is teacher.” I expected a more complex answer than that and he was wrong. What about the tourists, soldiers and business people?
The driver glanced at me in his rear view mirror and asked, “But what happened to face? Fight?”
I ignored him and he did not press for conversation. When we arrived at the hotel, I paid the driver and said the obligatory kamsahamnida. He replied with the usual Ne before driving on. After muddling my way through the struggle of checking in with poor Korean language skills, and a battered appearance, I rode the elevator up to the fifth floor. The dimly lit corridor was a bit ominous and medieval, so I was surprised to find a bright updated room once I opened my door.
For the first time, I was able to see if my mysterious suitcase packers had included all of my things. Everything seemed to be there and, most importantly, my jewelry box. My mother would have had a fit if my jewelry were lost. I peeked inside the bathroom. The one thing that could excite me in that moment was that I saw a bathtub and regular toilet. I did not like having to hover above the Korean style ground toilets, hoping not to splash myself with waste as I squat. My apartment only had a shower, so the bath was a long awaited luxury that took my mind far from all that had been going on. When I came out, it felt as if the water had massaged me the whole way through. I was so relaxed and limber.
When I eased under the comforter, I melted into the bed and felt as though I never wanted to leave it. It wasn’t long in until I was in a deep REM state. As I slept, I dreamt. I dreamt of the things Hahn had said. I dreamt of what I saw him do and I dreamt of the different people that he showed me were also once me. When I finally awoke, I thought possible… but no. Even if he was real, it has to be mistaken identity. Yes, that was it.
I looked through my bag to find one of my better outfits. The black halter dress and high heels was a bit sexy for a plane ride but if I was going to have to leave, I was going to leave in style. As a finishing touch I put on my family heirloom necklace, a good deal of cover makeup, and cherry lipstick. Looking this way was actually the norm for young Korean women. I often wondered how they managed high heels and makeup all day, every day. The pain was excruciating on my wounded feet but I managed. As I checked out, I received compliments about my X line, a similar meaning to Coke bottle figure. One thing’s for sure. No one called me Sŏnsaengnim which is something I wasn’t in the mood to hear after being given the boot. I considered finding someone to help me contest it but instinct told me there would be no use. It was not my country. I was only a guest. Their rules.
When at last I was buckled in for the first leg of a long flight, my tears could not be hidden and a stewardess handed me a warm wet cloth to wipe my face. “My home is beautiful, isn’t it? No worries. Maybe you can come back sometime.” I cried even more into the warm cloth, turning so no one else could see.
We received our final instructions and I felt the speed of the wheels increase. With one tilt, we were off into the blue. I stared off into the clouds for as long as my eyes would allow, trying to mute the cacophony of Korean being spoken on the plane. I did not know how I would explain my return home. I certainly couldn’t tell them the truth. I eventually decided that I would just tell them I missed them. That had enough truth to it. Well, with the exception of Steven. I pretty much wanted to bash my head through the plane window when I realized I would had to be back around Steven, the golden boy, whom my parents love so much. In Jamestown, it seemed everyone subscribed to the idea that Steven and I were always meant to be. I groaned a bit, remembering the last time I saw him.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I had barely processed my present company until I heard, “Are you alright?” English… I turned to see a well-dressed man whom I guessed to be from somewhere in Europe by the way he spoke.
“Yes. I am fine. I am sorry if I disturbed you. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“No bother,” he said, “We all have such moments.” He extended his hand a little bit contortedly to accommodate the seating space. “My name is Luca Fox. A little tight here, isn’t it? I usually travel first class but there was nothing left at last moment’s notice.”
I thought to myself, were you kicked out of the country too? Trying to relax a bit, I shared my name as well. In our small talk, I learned that he was pharmaceutical expert from Switzerland and conducting business throughout the world. His destination was Detroit, Michigan which was my final layover before arriving in Rhode Island. Even though he was about twelve years older than me, the more Luca spoke, the more handsome he became. I pictured myself running my fingers through his soft charcoal hair and gazed into his emerald eyes. I watched intently when he briefly licked his rose colored lips before asking the stewardess for a drink to quench his thirst. I tried to ignore the thoughts that were brewing as well as a twinge or two of tingling sensations. There was no sense in falling in love with an older man who lived in Switzerland. With all his travels, he likely had a girlfriend in each continent.
At some point in the conversation, I notice him staring at my breasts. Just when I was about to cover myself and call him a name for being so crass, he asked, “Do you believe in it?” I surely looked perplexed and doe eyed at the random question. He nodded in the direction of my necklace and said, “You are wearing the flower of life symbol. Do you believe in it?”
I felt silly then for thinking he was being a pervert. I told him that I didn’t know what he meant and that my mother gave it to me when I graduated high school. “It has been passed down for a couple of generations. We really don’t know much about it but it’s a tradition now. I have always thought it was pretty.”
Luca found it interesting that I wore something without knowing about it. Then he began to speak of things that were a bit too mathematical for someone like me who has always abhorred math of any kind. Amid all his babbling about math, I did pick out a few interesting tidbits of information that I wanted to try to remember so I could tell my mother. He seemed overly smart, so I believed him when he told me that somehow this symbol ended up in every major world religion. He described three beautiful representations of it in Egypt, Turkey and India. Luca had reached a new level of excitement by that moment.
”This symbol is said to be the key to existence of All.” He said all in such an exaggerated way that it seemed to mean something more. I didn’t inquire for fear of appearing uneducated. Luca blathered on about shapes, patterns and some decimal that is found everywhere. He eventually concluded that whoever first owned the necklace must have been quite a scholar to be interested.
After a chuckle, he added, “Or it was just another woman who liked pretty things.”
He winked at me and it felt more condescending than jointly humorous. I didn’t like that one bit. In that immediate instance, he reminded me of some of the Massholes that would breeze through town on their way to our beach. Maybe Luca wasn’t as handsome as I thought after all. I went silent as he talked more about his job even though I never asked. I think he had even started talking about his family and some scientist but by then I had totally tuned him out.
My mind drifted to Hahn and the things he said. I wondered if I was the original owner of the necklace and just back again. After the layover in Japan, a capricious place that I wished I had chosen to work instead, I realized I was no longer seated next to Luca for the flight. He had ditched our section for an opportunity at his beloved first class arrangements. I didn’t know if I was sad or happy about it. It was kind of nice to be able to speak in my native language and be understood. This time, my flight partners were from China and it sounded like they were cackling most of the time. I plugged up my ears with the in-flight headphones and selected a playlist. I listened to the music and bopped my head here and there to the familiar sounds of my youth. I thought about my return home and mumbled to myself about the hope that my mother would make me some Johnny cakes in the morning. In fact, that’s what I dreamt of when I drifted off.
In the dream, I was riding my childhood bike with the basket and rainbow tassels. I could see my gray barn-shaped house ahead of me but couldn’t get to it. The bike seemed to move more and more slowly. My mother came to the porch and waved at me shouting, “Jenn, it’s not even real. Let go.” I then let go of the handles and felt myself floating. I looked back and my bike was nothing more than a pile of sparkling dust. Suddenly I was seated right at our dining room table. My mother was serving plate after plate of Johnny cakes. All of them looked the same… like flowers but not just any flower. They looked like the flower on my necklace.
I awoke with a start. The flight attendant was instructing me to place my seat upright. When we finally stopped rolling down the landing strip of Detroit Metro, we were given our exit details. Within seconds people were scrambling to grab their bags and push their way past others. I never understood the rush. It wasn’t like the plane would dart back up into the sky and take us with it.
While walking down the concourse to reach my connecting flight area, I heard heavy footsteps racing my way. Turning to catch a glimpse, I realized Luca was attempting to catch up to me. I almost laughed because he looked rather funny running and trying to keep his rolling bag from going in the opposite direction. I paused to allow him the chance to look a little less foolish. When he reached me, I smiled and called him by name as I asked what he wanted.
“I kept thinking about you during the flight. There is something special about you that I can’t quite place my finger on and I don’t want to lose touch. Would you mind exchanging numbers?”
I really didn’t know how to respond to that. I didn’t want to be rude to Luca but I had stopped thinking about him in that way before we left Japan. His pleading face made him look so much like a puppy that I didn’t want to disappoint him.
“Sure, it would be nice to be friends with you.”
He looked like he withered a little when I said friends but he pulled out his phone and typed quickly. I remembered that I hadn’t seen my mobile phone since my ordeal. I gave him the number to my parents’ landline for the time being and he gave me one of his business cards. We parted ways and, momentarily, I was already in flight to Warwick.
The way home gave me unexpected feelings. It was almost like reverse culture shock. The sound of every English word spoken by the passengers felt like cymbals clanging in my ears. It was different when I was immersed in languages that I did not understand. Those easily became white noise but not these words. These words were everywhere and I could understand them all, most of them unpleasant. I was gratified that it would be a short flight in the extremely narrow plane.
When I arrived in Warwick, I was not feeling as much dread as I thought I would. I even had a little bounce in my step as I headed to the baggage claim. I knew everything would be okay and then it happened. Steven was standing there with his red hair, wry grin, and casual stance. “Welcome home, stranger.”
I couldn’t even begin to understand how he would know that I was there. Why do these types of things keep happening?
“Your mother told me to come pick you up. No need to pay all that cab fare.”
He paused to stare. “What? No kiss?”
I just brushed past him in a trance and he followed me in motor-mouth mode. In his onslaught of sentences, I only listened to the part about Lee calling my mother to tell her to be expecting me and that he’s sorry things didn’t work out for me. It was a false sympathy from Steven that I detested. In the car, he tried to kiss me and I pushed him away.
“What is wrong with you?” he asked with demand.
I thought back to the day I left Rhode Island. I had clearly stated that we were finished and he got so tearful that I told him that I didn’t mean it. I blamed it on stress. I regretted what I did next to make him feel better. I should have never given him such a passionate goodbye. All those years of school plays paid off because he believed every moment of it. I led him on, assuming that would be it.
I thought he would get so lonely when I stopped contacting him and just move on. Why couldn’t he? Everyone in Jamestown knew that Samantha Grimes had a heavy crush on him since third grade. I thought she would have gone straight for her chance. I let out a deep sigh. Steven talked for the whole forty minute ride, mistaking my random uh-huhs as active listening. When we arrived at the house, he honked his horn. My parents came out beaming and shouting greetings. I reached the porch and their hugs were like medicine. Steven tried to get in on the hug and I broke away into the living room.
I could hear the three of them mumble a few things, the last of which was Steven saying he would come by the next day. I went straight to my favorite spot, the window seat, and gazed at the sky. My parents came in with my luggage and lingered in the door, watching me like I was a television show.
My mother disrupted the silence, “Your brothers and sisters are coming home to see you on Saturday. We’re going to have a big family dinner.”
Though they were my siblings, I really didn’t want to have to go through the motions of telling travel stories to all twelve of them and their families who never really went anywhere further than Rhode Island just like my parents wanted. When I was born, most of my brothers and sisters were grown and disinterested in yet another addition. The thirteenth child… it sounded like a horror story to me. I felt non-existent at family gatherings. I hated it.
My mother came over to me and hugged me again.
“Wow. What have you done with yourself? You sure have on a lot of makeup… and you are so skinny. Didn’t you eat?”
I didn’t answer these questions that I hoped required no answer. She responded to my silence by repeating that she was glad I had come home and that she knew I would. The way she said it seemed like she had her very own prodigal child. I guess that’s how she wanted it.
My father took his turn in the conversation. “I am just a bit curious though, Jenn. What brought you back home? Did something happen?”
“Lee, didn’t tell you?” I asked.
My father said that they only had a message on the voicemail with my arrival time. So, I did my best to communicate my invented story of being homesick and described only the things that I knew they would find offensive about South Korean culture. My mother crossed herself several times as I spoke and they both comforted me in agreement that one of the most beautiful places I had ever been was appalling. I myself would now need to make a confession for my attempt to appease my parents with gross distortions of the land.
If I told them about Hahn and the mountain, surely I would be a prime candidate for exorcism. You can’t win. Maybe it is good to have no religion. When I thought that thought, I admonished myself for the hypocrisy of it. How could I think such a blasphemous thing? I really did need to get to church.
“My poor little ladybug. I still can’t get over how thin you are. The food must have been awful. I read some things of my own while you were gone. I sure hope you didn’t eat any dog,” she said through a grimace.
“No I didn’t have any dog but there was a dog soup restaurant down the road.”
She pressed her hand to her bosom and gasped before crossing herself once more. I had said it just to spite her but regretted it because it made me remember the dead Jindos, limp bodied and stained in blood.
“Why don’t you go on up and get some rest. We can talk in the morning over some Johnny cakes and coffee.”
Just the words I had hoped to hear at some point in the mixture of mushy sentiments and cultural criticisms. The next morning, my cravings were satisfied. Though my mother really did outdo herself, none of the Johnny cakes looked like the ones from the dream. I don’t know why I thought they would but, either way, they made me feel that it was actually nice to be home.
The family dinner came and went. It was as I had imagined but wasn’t so terribly painful. Days went on and turned into months, and even a year, before I knew it. Along the way, I didn’t even think of Korea anymore. As I resumed regular life in Jamestown, I learned that my bachelor’s degree in English didn’t mean much and the economy was pretty bad. It wasn’t long before I was shucking oysters at our family restaurant and living with my parents. I was saving up but I didn’t exactly know where I was planning to go or what I would do. Grad school was becoming an option since there seemed to be nothing else.
Steven and I eventually broke up for good. For someone who was so in love with me, it sure didn’t take him long to marry Samantha and knock her up. I am not so sure it really happened in that order but they could tell it how they wanted to for the priest’s sake. I am just glad it wasn’t me.
The best thing out of all of it was that I was free… Free to do as I please. Unfortunately, whenever I said that phrase, I would feel a pang inside that would indicate that I was telling a bit of a lie to myself. I could not consider freedom without reflecting on all the restrictions that mask themselves as choice. That awareness would depress me but I always fought it. Living beyond Jamestown was an absurd thought for many locals. In their eyes, there couldn’t possibly be anything else a person could ever need. When they would come into the oyster bar, billowing over with laughter and obvious good times, I did wonder their secret but, in my heart, I knew I was out of place. Otherwise, I would always be as happy as they were.
One night after work, I was driving home when something in the sky caught my attention. I pulled over and saw what looked like stars or planets dancing about each other. I took out my phone and tried to record it but it was too distant to capture. Just as I was closing my phone to put it away, it vibrated. A call from an unknown number was coming in.
“Hello?” I responded with hesitation.
There was a brief pause before I heard a man on the other end. “I am sorry to be calling so late, Jennifer…”
It turned out to be Luca. Just like Korea, I had forgotten all about Luca. He told me that he spoke with my mother and she gave him my mobile number. He said that he was in Cumberland on business and would like to meet me the next day.
“Thanks for calling Luca. Unfortunately, Cumberland is a bit out of the way for me.”
He stopped me in my attempt to brush him off and confirmed that distance was a non-issue. He shared that he would arrive by private jet and asked where I would be waiting. I poked fun at him because the foreign accent made him sound so stereotypically swanky when talking about his jet. He did not seem fond of that kind of jest but we still made arrangements and he found himself in Jamestown the next day. We met at my favorite little coffee shop which just so happened to be European style. I figured he would feel at home and be impressed with the brunch there.
Luca was a handsome sight in his modern leisure suit and I hoped I looked alright in my dress with the ruffled bodice which always made me look quite amply bosomed, especially since I was now at my natural weight. He caught me up on all that was going on in his life and I revealed how little was going on in mine. We shared a lot of laughs and I could hardly remember why I had not made a conscious effort to contact this beauty of a man.
I accompanied him to the closest beach where we walked and talked. I could feel it happening. I was falling in love and he made sure to let me know that he had only come because had been in love with me at first sight on the plane. Somehow, I missed it all. Then it came flooding back to me… all the parts that my mind worked so hard to forget. Damn it, Hahn! I just wanted to enjoy Luca… muscular, bright eyed, intelligent, and perfect for me… Luca. It wasn’t difficult at all to become lost in him because, by then, he was already kissing me and making me melt like ice-cream in summer. I was his.
Things moved pretty fast. Only a few more trips to Jamestown and six months later, he and I were set to be married. He flew my whole family to Basel, Switzerland. Their first trip anywhere and they were lucky enough for it to be outside of the states. Imagine that. I didn’t even want to begin to calculate the cost of nearly a hundred plane tickets. I think my family thought they had died and gone to heaven when they saw the unique structure of the Catholic Church we married in. I was wearing my eldest sister’s princess style wedding dress and my heirloom necklace. My brothers made wisecracks as usual but all of my sisters, and my parents, kept tearfully telling me how angelic and beautiful I looked. Some were wishing babies on me before I could even make it to the hotel. Babies were the furthest thing from my mind. I just wanted to be with my soul mate. For me, it was enough.
The walk down the aisle on my father’s arm seemed to take forever. When Handel’s Overture to the Royal Fireworks stopped playing and I finally stood with my groom, there was an unexpected halt in the ceremony. After a few exchanges of Swiss German that I did not understand, it was translated to me that I would have to remove my necklace before the ceremony could proceed. Searching for an explanation, my love simply told me that the symbol is a matter of dispute and is not accepted in that parish.
Since going on with the ceremony was more important than my inner outrage at the moment, one of my sisters removed the necklace for me. Beyond that moment, it was a perfect and emotional ceremony. The reception was just as marvelous and by its end, we were off to our hotel room full of romantic feelings without burden of rules and traditionalism.
Our lovemaking was something I could not describe and more than I imagined it could be. It was nearly astral to say the least. I had never experienced anything like it. Did all women get to feel like this? Maybe I shouldn’t have waited. Luca rested so peacefully when it was over but I was awake and wide-eyed. I could hardly believe this fairytale I was living in. Clutching one of the sheets around me, I went over to my purse to get my phone so I could view some of the photos I took earlier. My mother was giving me a hard time about them. She said it wasn’t my job to be taking pictures. My father commented that I was technology addicted like all the other people my age. I just wanted to capture some treasured moments from my own perspective. My memories could not be the same as theirs. Eventually, I stopped taking the pictures just to get them off of my back but at least I had some that I would be able to cherish.
While getting my phone, my heirloom necklace caught my eye again and I put it back on. For a brief moment, I became irritated all over again about the priest stopping my ceremony in the way he did over a necklace. I then recalled how excited Luca was over the necklace when we first met. For the first time, I decided to learn about this silly flower that could actually stop a wedding. I connected to the hotel Wi-Fi and started a search. I couldn’t quite remember what Luca called it back then and I didn’t want to wake him. I typed in Flower Math and the first thing I saw aside from lesson plans for children was something about someone named Fibonacci. I clicked on that one and the information seemed to emulate everything Luca had said on the plane that day. It was even more confusing than what he was saying at the time but in my reading I saw another phrase, flower of life. I used it as my next search and found myself reading for hours. It was all so fascinating. It was already morning when Luca woke and found me reading my phone intently.
“I almost thought you left me,” he said while patting the empty side of the bed with a smirk. He asked me to come back to bed in an alluring way but I almost couldn’t choose between him and my reading. I had been up all night and didn’t quite realize the time had passed.
Seeing my indecision he asked, “What has gotten you so involved this early in the morning?”
I laid the phone down and went to him. I told him about all that I had been reading about sacred geometry and that I was trying to understand it all but it was difficult. He seemed proud of me for taking the time to learn about what I had been wearing all that time.
Reflecting on the day we met, I laughed and told him, “Did I ever tell you that when we met on the plane, I thought you were a creep? When you first commented on my necklace, I was about to tell you a thing or two because it appeared that you had been staring at my breasts. I felt like a fool when I saw that you weren’t.”
He replied bashfully, “Actually I really was staring at your breasts. It was because of them that I saw the necklace.”
“What?” I shouted out in shock while hitting him with a pillow. He smirked and flipped me to my back. A passionate round two ensued. I could hardly catch my breath but I certainly didn’t mind. Though we spent several days doing much of the same, I was sorely disappointed when the honeymoon ended sooner than I would have liked. Luca was a very busy and important man to his company. With their apologies, they beckoned his early return with a promise of a bonus and extended vacation later in the year. I reluctantly consented and so did he.
Our new home was in Basel since it was where he was most when not traveling. The architecture was far from what I was used to in Jamestown. Its structure was a bit cold and modern with its rectangular levels. The exterior looked more like a business than a house but, if Luca loved it, I would learn to as well.
As the days went on, I became certain that being a housewife didn’t suit me. I did not like simply waiting for Luca to come home nor did I want to have babies in order to fill the empty space in my schedule. So far the rhythm method had been working for me and I intended to keep it up even though Luca didn’t know I was doing it. It was something else that the priest surely would not like to hear during my confession but I am sure he had heard far worse things than that.
Basel was sort of like Disneyland without all the characters unless you counted the unusual artist population. After a few near deaths by tram, I pretty much knew my way around and how to stay out of the way of traffic. One day, while on another journey for job leads, I ended up near the university. There was a symbol that reminded me so much of the flower of life that I went to its library to inquire about it. I was told that I could join an English speaking group on a university tour. I had nothing better to do, so I went along. I found that some amazing people previously attended the university. When the tour guide was taking questions, I asked about the university symbol and if it was the flower of life. I was met a snicker indicating my buffoonery and my question was dismissed almost quicker than it had been asked. Under my breath, I mumbled that I thought it looked rather like it.
A woman leaned toward me and whispered, “You thought it looked like the flower because it does look like it. Everything does.”
She had a kind face with model looks. The sunrays illuminated her auburn hair. The perfection caused me to stare and I averted my eyes because I didn’t want it to be mistaken for sexual attraction. The tour guide continued to tell stories of the different places we passed. It was a longer tour than I had been expecting. Just when I was considering excusing myself, there was an invitation to explore the current touring area. It was a perfect time to disappear but the unnaturally pretty woman approached.
“I am Professor Frateuria Eichel. Are you planning to be a student at the university?”
She looked so young to be a professor. Maybe she was in her first years, I thought. I briefed her on how my search for work led me near the campus and I was just there out of mere curiosity about the symbol I saw on the flag. I told her a bit about my necklace and she became enthusiastically interested. She requested that I come with her to her office because she could tell me more about the flower.
Once there, my mind was overwhelmed by how deeply she delved into the scientific symbol of the university as well things like embryonic development, the Genesis pattern, the tree of life within the flower of life, little known complexities of music and art, and Jungian mandalas. Once she reached that part, my mind was all over the place. When she started talking about the writings of a Jewish polymath who had once worked there, I did not fully know what she meant by polymath. This led to an even longer conversation. It was actually hard to call it a conversation since she did most of the talking and I did most of the asking. She was drawing all kinds of step-by-step diagrams as she discussed the true purpose of the flower of life. I was floored and I don’t think either of us realized how much time had gone by. It was much better than anything I had found on the internet.
“You are so full of questions. It is a great mind for science.”
I laughed telling her that I was a C student in science and barely passed math. It was why I had majored in English.
“That is another error with schooling norms. These grades do not tell what a student knows or what they are capable of. They tell whether or not a student can memorize what has been selected for them to know by the powers that be. It has nothing to do with real thinking. A spirit of inquiry and the willingness to do what it takes to find an answer is the foundation of thought.”
She went on a bit of a tangent about how everything she knows now was never learned inside the walls of a classroom. She had to seek it. She said that truth is withheld and everyone is under a spell of stupor. I didn’t how to respond to her lengthy speech about conspiracies to control everyone by limiting exposure to truth.
“Yep. So true.” I said.
She laughed at my simplistic response to what could have easily been a dissertation defense.
“I really like you. I’ve been looking for an assistant. Would you be able to start tomorrow?”
Like many things in my life, this seemed to be going faster than my control. I was stunned, to say the least, and babbled on top of my own words.
“But you haven’t even seen my resume…”
“Don’t get me started on the nonsensical tradition of resumes. A silly piece of paper can’t possibly tell me what I need to know about a person. I do have a feeling that you will be my very own Vivien Thomas.”
I had the slightest idea of what she meant. Yet another thing I would have to look up out of many things she had already said. She took out a pen and asked me to give her my whole name and contact information.
“Jennifer Cates-Fox…”
She said Fox back to me and looked as if she were a human computer processing information. Through a squint she asked, “Are you married to Luca Fox?” I was instantly worried that she may have been one of Luca’s last screws before we met and hopefully not a current one. Unlike me, he was no virgin by his own uncouth sharing and he was attracted to younger women. But what was I thinking? I trusted Luca. Even if they were together, it was the past and not present, I was fairly sure. I confirmed my marriage to Luca and asked how she knew him.
“He was my best student.”
It didn’t cross my mind at all that she could have been his professor. Surely Luca was older than her. Based on all this talk, she must have been a prodigy and started work earlier than most. I had not realized I was holding my breath in worry of how they were connected. My exhale was like a popped balloon.
“Oh,” she laughed intuitively, “Did you think we…”
“Only for a moment,” I said as I blushed.
“I am old enough to be his mother and yours too.”
She looked no more than her late thirties to me. I couldn’t help but stare, trying to find the signs of age she spoke of. I had never seen more glowing skin or healthy hair on anyone in real life. It was like she was airbrushed. I wanted to ask her age but chose not to be rude.
The professor smiled in reminiscence, “Luca was one of my favorites. I only wish he hadn’t fallen with that dreadful pharmaceutical business.”
“Fallen? From what I can tell, he is very successful at…”
She cut me off abruptly and said, “His mind is too exquisite for it.”
Her irritable tone threw me off.
“He comes from such a long line of great thinkers and it shows. It’s just such a waste, you understand?”
I didn’t understand. We transitioned to the plans for the next day and when she would be expecting me. With a handshake, I was dismissed to go one with my day. Aside from a few public stumbles on the cobblestone, I almost danced the whole way home. I got a job! A real job! In your face Jamestown! In that thought I paused. I didn’t realize until then that my life was full of attempts to impress others or beat them at something. What had I been doing? Why care what anyone thought if I was genuinely happy?
By the time Luca was due home, I was in the process of setting the table for dinner. I had the music blaring and was doing my best attempt to imitate the singer’s signature dance moves. I was so zoned out with my sing-along, and parading from one cabinet to another, that I didn’t hear Luca when he entered with the guests who were all simpering. I spun around with squinted eyes to sing the last line of the song into a wine glass. “We are alive and the stars make love to the universe and you touch me, and I’m like… and I’m like… and I’m like…” I opened my eyes and flung my hair back for the big finish. The glass in my hand dropped and shattered when I caught sight of them.
Through laughter, Luca rushed over to assist me while apologizing vehemently for frightening me. One of the guests made an effort to break the ice by clapping.
“I enjoy that song too. The writer is from my country, Norway. Her powerful words have improved this singer’s career, don’t you think?” he asked with a tone of pride.
I just nodded in his direction as we worked on sweeping up the glass.
“Pfft…” another guest uttered, “Powerful? The song is about sex.”
One woman sarcastically snickered, “An American listening to a Columbian singing a Norwegian’s song. So trendy and global, wouldn’t you say?”
My music player had long since gone to the next song. I quickly turned it off as they continued general conflict about if the song was about sex or the connectivity of the universe.
Luca interjected, “It’s all the same when you think of it. Sex is an expression of love. It is how we connect beyond words. If love is a part of the universe, then the universe is a part of love… and I do enjoy every part.” He kissed me on the cheek and pulled me close in the most suggestive of ways in. I elbowed him gently and shuffled in embarrassment as some of them giggled. He continued, “Let me properly introduce you to my bride since most of you only saw her from a distance at the ceremony. This is Jennifer.”
I laughed because it had been quite some time since the wedding but if he wanted to call me his bride, so be it. It was endearing. I shook hands with them and smiled as brightly as possible. These opinionated guests turned out to be board members from his company. Luca said he couldn’t bear to be stuck in the conference room a moment longer and he often brought them home with him when the meetings grew too long. Obviously it was something else I had to get used to. This was not common to do back home. I felt he could have at least called first.
We had to have food delivered since I wasn’t prepared for eight additional people. After another debate among them, they settled on Lebanese food. It was delicious but I excused myself as the discussions gave way to a formal meeting. I spent some time researching information about the university and playing games on social sites. It was a lot more fun than the boring chatter I overheard about formulas, process improvements, costs of production, and profit. They talked late into the night before dispersing. By then, I had already fallen asleep. I was hardly in the mood when Luca joined me and softly kissed my neck. Time stopped.
As we laid there sweating profusely and heaving, I suddenly asked, “When you arrived with your guests, what if you walked in and I was buck naked?”
“Buck naked? Wearing antlers and running about with no clothes?” He teased. He stopped laughing when he noticed the wifely glare that I had inherited from my mother. We had a talk about how I don’t like surprises and he promised he would call first in the future. Once that was out of the way, I shared my big news with him. When I told him that the icing on the cake was that it was his old professor, he looked more sad than joyful. When I asked what was wrong, he told me that she is not really a professor at the university anymore which meant I didn’t actually have a job.
According to Luca, Professor Eichel had a brilliant mind and was heavy into research. She was spending day and night deciphering codes that no one, not even the greatest of geniuses, could understand. Her research carried her into complete madness and she was institutionalized. With enough coaxing, they released her to her husband’s care but she kept showing up every day and teaching courses to empty rooms. Out of pity and response to her husband’s plea, they allowed her to keep showing up as long as she did not disrupt the daily activities of the university. It’s been going on for years now.
“But she remembered you. She praised you. She knew all about you. She seemed just fine to me. Maybe they re-hired her since you’ve been gone?”
“No. The university psychology department is now researching her for identification of an entirely new and rare disorder. They test medications on her which her husband agrees to serve in her meals at night. The paychecks that she thinks she receives are merely compensation for participation in research. She really is none the wiser.”
All of it seemed highly unethical. I asked Luca what he thought I should do. He wasn’t much help and said it was up to me. The next morning I went to the university office and they confirmed all that Luca had told me was true. I was told that I wasn’t the first assistant that she had sent their way. They offered me an apology and referred me to an employment agency. I don’t know if I was more crushed over not having a job or hearing that this woman was being used as a guinea pig.
Being married to Luca meant that money was no object. I just wanted to be productive and so I decided that for Professor Eichel’s benefit, I would play along. I gave Luca a call to tell him my decision and he consented but warned me to be careful because she is known to be aggressive sometimes. I assured him I would mind my safety and reported to Professor Eichel for my first day of work.
When I walked in, she pointed at a stack of at least fifty books. She told me that if I was going to be her assistant, I would need to read and understand them all. She recommended annotation and pointed at a cup of highlighters and pens. It almost made me walk away but I decided to stick it out.
As I read, I watched her leave every few hours saying she was going to teach a course. Sometimes I couldn’t help but roll my eyes because of what I knew. Our days went on like that for many months but I was engaged by the text and our deep conversations. Eventually we became the best of friends. In fact, she was my only friend in Basel. Somewhere along the way I had even discovered that the secret of her good looks was her plant-based diet. I still didn’t know her age but I could guess based on her husband who looked to be at least in his early seventies. Like her, I turned to a vegetarian diet and mostly stuck to drinking water.
“Let food be thy medicine and let medicine be thy food.” She would say, quoting Hippocrates. “You must always remember that principle. My husband won’t listen to me. You see his failing health.”
He did seem bad off compared to her and I did not want that for Luca and me. I thought he would be opposed when I introduced the change but he was eager to try it. When I mentioned avoiding medicine, I thought it would be where he drew the line because of his work. Instead, he agreed and commented that even the members of his company don’t take the medicine they sell. He looked as though he had said too much and wanted to shove the words back into his mouth if he could. I wanted to dig a little deeper into that conversation with him but decided against it. He and I had little time between his trips and I tried not to speak of anything that could lead to arguments.
Over time, it became apparent my life science knowledge had grown exponentially. I supposed that was the best category I could put it in because we were indeed studying life in all forms—its history, mathematical principals, spirituality and so much more. I had even learned to read music. That was something I thought I would never learn. Things became clear to me and it was like a huge veil had been lifted. She really was a phenomenal teacher.
Concepts that I once believed, I now challenged. I eventually stopped attending church because I could find no answers there. I sought after knowledge with an unquenchable thirst. The flower of life was everywhere I turned. Sometimes it was hidden and other times it was in plain sight, either in part or whole. Even Luca could not keep up with it all, so we started speaking of other things to spare his ego. Mostly we would talk about his work, happenings around Basel, and whether or not we should see a specialist since I hadn’t gotten pregnant yet. As usual, I avoided the pregnancy discussion as much as possible. I just wasn’t ready. I was satisfied with the way things were. Besides, a baby can’t raise itself. Luca was gone often and I was clearly busy at the university.
Professor Eichel, whom I affectionately called Teuri, would scrawl out math and geometrical shapes in the same way she had when we met. I would add on some more and she would continue as if we were playing some fantastic game of chess. Who would have thought that I, who hated math, would not only understand it, but also love it? One day, the boards were so full that we began taping notes along the wall with our theories regarding the dodecahedron. She suddenly stopped and looked at it all as if she were gazing at the most beautiful ocean. She wept from some deep place within.
“I am not crazy you know.”
I put my pen and pad down to comfort her. Her whole body quaked as she cried. My blouse moistened with her tears as she rested her face upon my shoulder.
“They think I am but I am not. I only let them think so because it’s easier.”
“Teuri? What are you saying?” I asked with insistence in my voice.
Was it all really a charade as she was implying?
“My classrooms overflowed with the brightest minds. They all sought truth and I wanted to give it to them. No concept was exempt from being challenged and we would work together to find real answers to life’s questions. The biggest one of all was exactly who or what is God? No one ever receives a concrete answer to that. Generation after generation we are given abstract versions of the truth because no one knows for sure. We are taught that we must accept it without question or die in a horrible inferno. What terrible damage to do to the psyche of a child!”
Teuri explained how she was dissatisfied with fear-based blind acceptance and promised her students that she would one day have an answer. So she wrote a proposal and received more than enough funding to conduct research on the science of religion. She collected information from all over but couldn’t get her mind off of the most interesting discovery.
“The flower of life,” I interrupted while looking around at the walls of the room.
She confirmed my guess as being correct and told me that Luca had been one of her research assistants at a time. He had been quite a braggart about his relations and she suspected it was just another young man’s ploy to get the attention of a certain female classmate. It actually was just that because he ended up dating her, but it was also a true fact of his life.
“I am confused,” I said as jealousy of this unknown woman filled my heart.
“I guess he won your heart by purer means than dropping a few names.”
I thought back to when we met on the plane and he was saying something about family. I remembered ignoring him then but I met his relatives along the way. I heard nothing out of the ordinary.
“Luca is one of the Sons of Darwin as we say around here.”
“Darwin? As in Charles Darwin? Well, that doesn’t make sense. He has been dead for…”
“Don’t be asinine!” she snapped.
I was instantly offended as she continued, “I am not saying Luca is his son. He is merely his ancestor but it’s beside the point. Something Luca once said, during one of his family tree digressions, actually captured my attention. It was about a distant cousin’s research on frequencies… and it sent me on an entirely different path in my work.”
Teuri told me of how she read hundreds of writings of this learned man and was intrigued enough to retrace the path of his life’s travels. She went to each place he had been, finding answers to her own questions. When she investigated his death, she ran into more trouble than she had bargained for.
“The more I traveled, the more I discovered. It was nothing less than paranormal. Over time, I could tell I was being followed. There were too many near accidents and once I had even come home to find everything disheveled. I ended up fleeing from my home as a masked man wielding my own butcher knife came after me.”
She talked about how she had fought the masked man as best as she could until a tourist intervened and scared him off.
I could not help but stare blankly at Teuri. This really seemed schizophrenic and all of it had probably been a manifestation of her delusions. She clutched my arms desperately begging me to believe her because I am the only one she has told. She asserted that she had only pretended to a have mental disorder to save her own life.
“Don’t you see? No one bothers or even listens to someone who has been declared mentally ill. It was the perfect plan. I knew how special you were the moment that you returned without want of compensation. You are not ruled by money. This is rare and it means you can be trusted.”
She said she purposely imitated several mental disorders to throw the observers off track on treatment and, when they started studying her, she was onto the plan. Too many of them had made the mistake of talking about her as though she were not sitting right there.
“My husband believes he was faithfully putting the medicines in my food each night. He had no idea that I replaced the contents of each bottle with herbal supplements.”
She explained that she didn’t tell her husband about any of what she had learned to protect his life as well.
“People throughout time have been killed over this information and I have never been sure why but once you know, there is no turning back.”
A part of me wanted to believe her with reckless abandon but I could not. She walked to our notes on the wall and rubbed them gently as if she were a blind woman reading Braille.
“Don’t you realize what we are looking at here? We have finally done it, Vivien.”
She called me the name that I forgot to look up when she hired me. I thought she was finally cracking, so I told her that she needed rest. Enraged, she slammed me into the wall. My back and head received the worst of the impact. Where did she get such strength? It hurt beyond measure as I scrambled to get out of the office. She grabbed me and shook me a bit before I broke free.
Teuri yelled out of her office while as she trembled a clenched fist toward the ceiling, “You must think with your higher mind, Jennifer!”
On my way out of the building, I texted Luca and begged him to fly home. When he texted me back, he said that he was really busy and asked what the emergency was. I tearfully typed about Teuri’s attack and clarified that I needed him. Staring at my phone, I kept waiting for another reply from him but there was no contact. I rushed home to avoid her catching up to me.
Once there, I put ice on my head to dull the throbbing. The incident replayed in my head as I continued my wait to hear from Luca. I thought about what Teuri had yelled out. Think with your higher mind. I knew I had heard that before but where? The more I waited on another text, the more frustrated I became. I called Luca directly and it went to his voicemail. I said some very unkind things on the voicemail about him, his work being all he really thought about and that maybe I should just go back to America. Still, there was no contact.
I fought to stay awake. I watched TV, had coffee, listened to music and even wrote in my journal. Part way through my paragraph, I unwillingly drifted. The pen zipped across my page as I slowly leaned into my bicep. I slept for hours until I was jarred by the sound of a loud banging on the front door.
I tiptoed to the door and jumped a second time when the hard banging started up again. I peeked in the peephole and saw police officers. Luca must have called them on my behalf, I thought. He did care. I opened the door.
“Sind Sie Frau Fox?” one questioned in a haughty voice. I nodded confirming that I was lady of the house. I was next met with “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”
I informed him that my German wasn’t very good. I opened my mouth to tell them I was fine and they could be on their way, but I was silenced by the next statement.
“Frau Fox, I am sorry but your husband has died in the hospital. It was a terrible plane crash. Nothing could be done.”
I went down to the floor with a thud and a torturous wail from the depths of my being. I felt burning. Nothing but burning from my heart to my stomach. The officers attempted to pick me up but I swatted them away and did a combination of a run and crawl to reach my phone. I kept dialing Luca’s number and it only went to voicemail. I cried into the phone, telling him to call me back because there has been some mistake and people thought he was dead. Luca never called back.
Months after the funeral, I resurfaced as a battered shell of myself. Nothing mattered anymore. Every time I visited the grave, I wanted to dig down into the dirt and join him. One day, when I was thinking about just that, I was overcome with memories of everything Hahn said to me and showed me on the mountain in Cheongdo. I could be with Luca again… forever.
I had not spoken to Teuri since the funeral but I knew where to find her. I rushed to her office at the university and told her my outrageous story of what happened in Cheongdo and she believed me. More than believing me, she pulled out stacks of papers and yet more books that corroborated the real possibility of the existence of the whistles. Teuri suspected that the creator was none other than Luca’s distant cousin whose life’s work she had studied all these years. When she uttered his name, and I heard Francis, the blocks in my brain came down like the walls of Jericho.
I started to really remember. I grabbed a pen and drew the flower of life on a world map, going beyond the usual patterns and adjusting its angles. The flower really did lead to all things and, as Aieedah, I knew it. Just as with Hahn, it was inyŏn with Luca too. We were synced entities… always meant to be together. Luca had already given me clues when we met. The whistles had to be in Egypt, Turkey and India all along. Then in the pit of my stomach, I knew that Luca and Francis were one in the same. He had come back for me but could not remember.
I stared at the path of travel and the matrix lines were all too clear. Not only that, there were music notes to be played once I was in possession of the whistles.
Teuri was bubbled over with excitement and spoke of the upcoming excursion. She was heartbroken when I said it was something I had to do alone but she made it her business to give me survival tips since it was a road she had already been down before. She reminded me that she almost didn’t make it out. Before leaving, I hugged her tight and thanked her for everything.
My travels proved to be as dangerous as Teuri had described but being rich in a shallow world had its advantages. It bought people’s silence and it bought my safety. I lived the next year of my life comparable to the old Indiana Jones films. The people that I had to hire along the way respected my wishes not to ask questions and to just do as I say when I needed their help. They assumed I was only a spendthrift adventurer with no scruples. I left it that way simply for the reason Teuri once said. It was easier.
By winter I had found the first two whistles in the underwater ruins of Heracleion and the underground city of Derinkuyu. They were more unusual in appearance than I had expected. They were the size of apples and shaped more like complex cubes with multiple mouthpieces. Though tempting on several occasions, I dared not blow either one and was always on guard of them. The real challenge came when I went after the third whistle in Roopkund. I endured unspeakable atrocities but they were nothing compared to what I witnessed being done to others of their own kind. Before then, I had not known the depths of the world’s ugliness. It gave me all the more reason to do what I was about to do.
I continued to protect the whistles with the little bit of life I had left in me. Struggle by unimaginable struggle, I reached Roopkund around autumn. I was in awe of the lake of bones, which was no great mystery at all once I set my sight upon it. These were surely remnants of those with the higher mind.
My anticipation of being at one with Luca had reached an indescribable level. After weeks of searching the area, I located the third whistle. It was as skillfully crafted as the others but perhaps the highest grade of gold I had ever seen. I sat down, crossed my legs and carefully removed the other two whistles from my bag. When I had the three of them on the ground before me, the energy radiated from them as they quivered in reaction to being near each other.
At that moment, the sun rose behind me, painting brilliant ginger and scarlet hues against a blue canvas. Distant voices disturbed the serenity. The irate men charged toward me while shouting in the languages of their chosen Gods. The power-hungry five had united for the common cause of killing me. I was expecting them to catch up to me again long before now but I was never afraid. I had made it and this life of containment would end here. My destiny fulfilled…
Under their final threats, I unrolled the sheet music of space and time. One by one, I blew silent melodies and released us all.