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When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat |
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Journey in the Fields of Forever Remembering and Other Poems The Power Pause--3-minutes, 3-steps to Real Success and Personal Happiness |
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It has been completely reset in a typeface designed for easy reading and contains the complete, original text with some additions and changes. A New World Book published by arrangement with the author New World Publishing edition published 1986, 1988, 1989 Berkley edition 1991 (six printings) Editora Pensamento (Brazil) edition 1993 HarperCollins (UK), Aquarian edition 1994 Ediciones Luciernaga (Spain) 1995, 1996, 1997, 1998, 1999 Edizioni Amrita (Italy) 1997, 1999 Editions Amrita (France) 1997, 1999 First edition copyright © 1986 by John Harricharan Revised edition copyright © 1999 by John Harricharan 0-94377-09-3 (3 volume set) New World Books are published by the New World Publishing Company, a division of JHH & Associates, Inc., Georgia, U.S.A. |
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I am eternally grateful to Anita Bergen
who untiringly shared the burdens of accuracy and coordination
in the preparation of this work |
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to the New Edition of
I think everyone enjoys the thrill of discovery, the inner joy of unearthing some previously undetected gem of thought, idea, or philosophical concept that one is certain will soon become immensely popular and widely heralded. I had that thrill and joy of discovery in 1985 when my dear friend John Harricharan sent me his "just finished" manuscript for my opinion. The manuscript bore the superficially humorous, but spiritually challenging title, When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat. I knew from my first read-through that the world would soon be hearing a great deal about this beautiful little book. I perceived that this marvelous, modern parable would seize the imagination and the hearts of hundreds of thousands of readers. Today, more than a decade later, with its worldwide acclaim, its many awards and prizes, my initial assessment has been proven accurate over and over again. In my Introduction to the first edition, published in 1986, I praised the manner in which John blended universal truths with effective storytelling techniques. The first-person narrative depicts a series of crises and triumphs within the world of commerce which coincided with a pilgrimage of soul in the higher realms. Throughout the text, John Harricharan the author and "John," the narrator, keep encouraging us to continue to pay our physical dues and to continue to learn and to grow. Through a powerful progression of dramatic lessons, "John" comes to understand that all the pain, chaos, and confusion is actually trying to teach us that we chose to put on the fleshly clothes of Earth to fulfill a mission of spiritual growth. All of the chaotic, swirling energy around us can be interpreted as quagmires of death and depression - or as opportunities for life and learning. And now, twelve years after I penned the introduction to the first edition of When You Can Walk on Water, Take the Boat, I am honored to have been asked once again to serve as the "host" who stands at the portal of this unique and fascinating work - and I am more eager than ever to invite new readers to explore its depths and wonders. Just as we all love the thrill of discovery, I am certain that we would all like to meet some remarkable sage like the mysterious Gideon, whom John, our narrator encounters within the pages of this book. And that, of course, is the timeless enchantment of an extended allegory such as When You Can Walk on Water. . . . Through the magic of entering the vision that John Harricharan has translated onto these pages, we may each of us join him on a spiritual pilgrimage that will lead us to the goal of higher awareness and greater enlightenment. Brad Steiger Forest City, Iowa
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The question asked most of me by those who read this manuscript prior to its publication was, "Is it true?" The question still asked of me after all these years by many of those who've read this book is, "Is it really true?" My answer, now as then, is the age-old question, "What is Truth?" This is a book about you and me and others of our world. The ancient truths are as old as the hills, yet they shine ever so radiantly with newness whenever they are rediscovered. It is no accident that you have picked up this book. Perhaps, it is by "divine appointment" that we meet in these pages to explore again the meaning of life. Perhaps, in the exploration and adventures that follow, you would rediscover and realize that you are a being of infinite power and potential, limited only by your own beliefs about yourself and the world. What follows will mean different things to different people. For some, it will be a lovely, other-worldly adventure, but for others it will be a powerful re-awakening, a life-changing experience. Life is lived from within and one can never be hurt by what appears to be happening outside. You can change circumstances, if you so desire - for your only purpose in life is to make choices. Once the choice is made, the entire universe moves to bring into fruition that which you chose. Read on then, with an open mind and let yourself ask you questions. Many of these truths you already know, but may only have forgotten. Let us remember together the true nature of our being. John Harricharan
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It was evening time. Not completely dark, but with traces of the day still remaining. Everyone had left the office and I was there all alone completing the few tasks that remain at the end of any day. It is not my nature to work late, but today was somewhat different. Mixed with a feeling of accomplishment was the frustration and disappointment of not having completed all I would have liked to do.
My office was at the end of the building, overlooking the parking lot. The lot was empty save for my little car which appeared to be waiting so patiently. Always it seemed to be waiting for me, never complaining, always nearby. "Time to leave," I thought. "I'm already late." If there's one consolation, it was that there wouldn't be any traffic at this hour.
Glancing through the window as I reached for my attaché case, I noticed a blue car a few spaces removed from mine. The hood was raised and it seemed as if someone was trying to fix something. It wasn't unusual for cars to limp into our parking lot with some problem or other. I descended the stairs to the main door, set the night alarm and walked out of the building.
The blue car was still there with its hood pried open. With the idea of seeing whether I could be of any help, I cautiously approached. Through the window in the dim light, I saw a bearded face smiling back at me. "What took you so long? I thought you might have changed your mind," he said. The nerve of the guy, I thought. A total stranger, and he wanted to know what took me so long. Ingratitude really bothers me. It struck me as somewhat strange, however, that he seemed to have been expecting me. A totally improbable assumption I felt, as I quickly dismissed the thought.
Peering under the hood I shouted, "Try the motor once more." He did, and it immediately sprang to life and continued running with a beautiful purr as if nothing ever had been the matter with it. The bearded one got out of his car, walked up to me, thrust out his hand and said, "Hi! It's good to see you again for the first time. My name is Gideon."
"Hello, Mr. Gideon, it's nice to meet you," I stammered, shaking his outstretched hand. "My name is John."
"Yes, I know," he said. This took me by surprise. I had never seen the man before. He wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt and appeared to be somewhere between the ages of fifty and sixty. He wasn't tall. His hair was jet black and neatly combed with one lock falling idly over his right brow. The beard which was as black as his hair was full and trimmed, but his eyes were his most noticeable feature. Even in the dim light of the street lamp, one could see those piercing orbs and know they had lived a legend. Such determination in those eyes, and yet, such kindness as well. Although I noticed all these things in a split second, I kept staring at him all the while.
He smiled. "Beautiful weather we're having," he said.
I nodded indifferently. I couldn't have cared less about the weather at that moment. "How do you know my name?" I quickly snapped.
"Oh, I guessed. Most everyone is Jim or John or Ron or Tom." He said it matter-of-factly, but there was something in his voice that seemed to suggest that he really knew my name. Maybe this was one of those set-ups I'd heard so much about recently. Perhaps he was intent on doing me harm--stealing or something. I had the overwhelming urge to leave that spot and remove myself from his presence as fast as possible, but those eyes held me there.
"I see that you're alarmed--concerned about your safety," he said, seeming to pull the very thoughts out of my head. "No need to fear. Thanks for helping me with the car. I thought no one would come at this hour, but there you were! People these days are so afraid of everything, of each other, of the dark, yes, even of themselves. My gratitude to you, John."
I figured that he had to be lying since I hardly did anything to help him start his car. It just appeared to me that the motor started the second I told him to try it again. "Anyway," I said, "I didn't do anything, but you're welcome nevertheless."
"Perhaps we'll meet again soon," he said as I moved toward my car.
"Perhaps," I muttered, thinking how unlikely that would be. He waved as I stepped into my car and drove out of the parking lot.
By now it was very dark, and my wife and children would be wondering where I was or whether I was stranded on the road. It was the normal, short drive, no more than 15 minutes or so before I pulled up to the mailbox at the bottom of our driveway. As is my custom everyday, I collected the mail and started driving up to the garage. The driveway is long and curving and the thought occurred to me to make arrangements for snow removal for the winter. It was far from winter and, yet, my tired mind was already getting prepared.
I wondered about Gideon but brushed the thought away, having felt I'd done my good deed for the day and probably would never see him again. There were more important things to do now, like dinner, walking the dog and finally taking out the garbage. Dinner and then walking the dog would be pleasant. "Rajah," my collie, was a spirited, friendly animal, and a little run with him would do both of us some good.
As I walked into the house, mail in one hand and attaché case in the other, my son, Jonathan, was waiting for me. Only three years old, he had no concept of time and so was not too surprised to see me at that late hour. Laying aside the mail and attaché case, I picked up Jonathan and proceeded into the kitchen. My wife, Mardai, and daughter, Malika, greeted me warmly. The aroma of slowly simmering chicken stew made me realize how hungry I was.
"What kept you so late today, John?" Mardai asked as we sat down to dinner.
"Oh, nothing much. Just helped a fellow get his car started." Dinner over, I took care of the remaining chores, helped put the children to bed and discussed some of the day's activities with Mardai. Finally, we watched a short TV show and then I read for a little while. I love to read, but there never seems to be enough time. Generally I'm reading at least five books at different stages, going from one to the other until I complete them all. It's certainly not the best way to read books, but this way, I do manage to get through them.
We decided to turn in, and only then did I feel the fatigue of the day. Reflecting on my strange meeting with Gideon, I fell asleep.
It's my habit to wake up very early in the morning. I'm one of those ridiculous fellows who finds it almost impossible to sleep late. Whether I to go to bed at eight o'clock in the evening or two in the morning, I still get up by five or six. This morning being no exception, I was up and ready to go by six-thirty. I said good-bye to my family and drove the short distance to the office.
A breathtaking morning it was, indeed. The rays of the sun streaming through the windows of the car warmed my very being and made me want to sing for joy. Actually, 'sing' is not the word to describe the sounds I make in the attempt, but in the car no one hears and there's the feeling of safety in that private cubicle. Except on those rare occasions when a driver pulls up at a stop light, looks at me quizzically and drives away, I'm not even conscious of the quality of my singing.
I pulled into the parking lot half expecting to see the blue car of the night before. Of course, it wasn't there. "What a strange man," I thought, "I feel as if I know him or have seen him someplace before. Perhaps it was at a conference or a convention." It wasn't long, however, before I was caught up in the day's activities.
Things were not going too well for my business. We had designed and built a portable device that was of use to printers and photographers. It was an excellent machine, capable of recycling the valuable chemicals from their waste processing solutions. Although we'd received a large number of compliments about it, sales weren't increasing as fast as we had expected and, as everyone knows, compliments don't pay the bills. I had built an excellent management team and we were expanding our horizons. But still, at times I felt so alone in what I was doing.
The sound of the ringing phone woke me from my reverie. It was our plant manager calling to inform me that an entire production line had to be shut down immediately. "Do whatever you can. I'll be over shortly," was all I could say. Another phone call. The voice of my secretary heralded the type of calls I would receive all day. "It's Mr. Abe Ludic," she said. "Do you want me to tell him you'll call him later?"
"No, I'll take it," I replied.
She switched the call to my line and for the next five minutes I explained to Mr. Ludic why a past due bill remained unpaid.
Phone calls for the purpose of collecting past due payments coupled with the company's financial situation were enough to drive me to distraction. We had recently applied for a substantial loan from a local bank only to have the banker laugh at us.
Whenever I feel like becoming depressed, there is a game I play with. It always seems to work. I stop doing everything and say to myself, "Now, John, since you like to do everything well, take the next ten or fifteen minutes and become as depressed as possible. Wallow in your misery. Think of how terrible things are and how the entire world is against you. Note how everyone you know goes out of his way to make your life unpleasant. Think of how very unfortunate you are. Now, as soon as the second hand on your watch reaches twelve, start." When the second hand reaches twelve I try to become as miserable as possible. Within a few minutes I'm laughing so hard at the absurd nature of my thoughts that the depression vanishes.
Somehow or other, I was able to make it through to lunch time. We were able to get the production line back on stream and Mr. Ludic agreed to wait for another week.
I don't normally eat lunch. In fact, I could go without breakfast and lunch without ever feeling uncomfortable. Today was no exception. I had a strong urge, however, to leave the office and go for an invigorating walk. It would be refreshing, I thought, to get out of the office for a while.
I'd gone quite a few blocks when I decided to return by an alternate route which would take me past a quaint little restaurant. So demanding was my morning that I'd taken a longer walk than usual. As I approached a corner, I had the persistent feeling that there was an appointment I may have forgotten. I've been known to forget appointments before so, instead of returning to the office, I figured I'd use the pay phone in the restaurant, call my office and check whether or not there was an appointment.
I quickly walked up to the restaurant, opened the door and entered, looking for a phone. Although the restaurant bustled with lunch customers, I located one on the other side of the room, went over and dialed my office. I asked whether I had an afternoon appointment and was assured that I didn't. I breathed a sigh of relief, but could not shake the strange, nagging feeling that I had to meet someone. Since I was already in the restaurant, I decided to have a quick lunch.
I approached the hostess who looked at me, smiled sweetly and said, "Mr. H., please follow me." As I followed her across the dining room, I thought how flattering it was that she recognized me. It's a small northeastern town I live in. It's an even smaller town that I work in. Almost everybody knows one another. She led me to a table over by the far corner near a window. I thanked her and even before I was properly seated, she said, "Your other party will be here soon."
"My other party?" I asked. I was surprised since no one, not even myself, knew I would be stopping at this restaurant. Noticing my surprise, she looked around and said, "Oh, here he is now. Enjoy your lunch."
Up to my table strode Gideon. Ignoring my questioning gaze, he seated himself, smiled and said, "Fine day it is."
"Fine day it is, indeed! But what are you doing here?" I asked not rudely, but rather out of surprise.
"Hope you don't mind my joining you."
"Of course not. But I certainly didn't think I was going to see you again so soon." I was becoming somewhat confused. First the incident in the parking lot, then the strange urge to walk past the restaurant, followed by my decision to have lunch and, finally, meeting Gideon again. "Did you make reservations or plan to be here for lunch today?"
"Yes, I made the reservations for both of us."
"How did you know I'd be here? Even I didn't know."
"Just had a feeling. You have these feelings at times, don't you? The phone rings and you know who's calling. You think of someone you haven't heard from in years and you receive a letter from that person. Just had a hunch that you'd be here and I took the chance."
"I was thinking about you. I wondered whether I was ever going to see the bearded man whose car broke down in our parking lot. By the way, is everything fixed now? Does it run OK?"
"Runs better than ever." His eyes seemed even more piercing than in our previous encounter. They seemed to probe the very depths of my mind, leaving me to feel that I could hide nothing from him. "Didn't think you'd make it this time either," he continued, as if speaking to himself.
"Pardon me?"
"Oh, nothing. I talk to myself sometimes."
"Well, since you're here, I'll say it's good to see you, again. Let's have a quick bite because I've got to be back at the office shortly."
"One of your problems, John, is that you hurry too much. Yesterday in the parking lot, you were in a rush. Today at lunch, you're in a hurry again. Take some time to enjoy life. Everyone has the same measure of time, you know. Twenty-four hours a day. It's what you do with your time that's important."
I really didn't think I needed to be preached to today, but I wanted to be as polite as possible. "It's easy for you to say," I replied, "I have responsibilities, you know. A business to run--things to do. Sometimes the burden of it all gets to me."
"Only if you let it. And everyone has responsibilities. Do you know that the word responsibility could mean 'ability to respond'? Do you have a business to run or do you have a business that runs you?"
For someone I was meeting for only the second time, he certainly had a lot of opinions about me. A good philosophical discussion, however, always brightens my day and besides, there was some truth in what he had said. "You seem to have things nice and easy," I quipped. "Where do you work and what do you do, anyway?"
A strange look came over those dark eyes. "Actually I'm a trouble shooter," he said, "a jack-of-all-trades, if you will. What you'd probably call a consultant for my company, if you know what I mean."
"And your company?"
"It's called G & M Enterprises, Inc. It's not the car company. I'm sure you've never heard of it."
"Can't say that I have. Is it a large corporation?"
"To a certain extent--very diverse-i-n many countries. World headquarters in the Big City with branch offices throughout the country."
"What do they make or do?"
"Somewhat of a service company, more or less."
Sensing his reluctance to offer more information and not wanting to be rude I asked, "Are you on vacation now?"
"No. Actually, I'm on assignment. I'll be in this area for a little while."
"Do you live around here?"
"Not really. Just passing through. After completion of my current assignment, I'll be on the road again."
"Well, I hope they give you a better car," I said with a laugh, remembering his problems of the evening before.
He smiled, and changed the conversation back to my work. "So things aren't going too well with your business?" he asked.
"We've been struggling for a long time, a real long time, Gideon. There are times when we think we see light at the end of the tunnel, but more often than not it's a freight train. It's tough." I was surprised to find myself speaking this way to a stranger. I normally don't share my problems with those who aren't close to me, but somehow this time seemed different.
"Why struggle? A seasoned swimmer does not struggle against the water. He flows with it, using it as a means of reaching his goal. Don't struggle, just follow the flow. Let the river of life carry you."
The restaurant was mostly empty now. In between our conversation we'd managed to finish our brief lunch. Only two tables across from us were occupied. I glanced at my watch. It was time to go. But my strange friend wasn't ready to leave. He gave me the impression that he wanted to tell me something. Again, I had that sense of foreboding--not quite foreboding, but almost like I was getting involved in things for which I wasn't ready nor prepared. I paid the bill and he offered to pay his share, but I refused. He thanked me and got up.
"Do you have a business card?" I asked. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to me. "Thank you. I must say goodbye now and get back to that crazy job I have," I said.
"Be grateful that you have a job to go to," he replied. We walked to the door and went outside. I hoped he wasn't setting me up for something. I'm somewhat of a pushover when I like someone and I was beginning to take a liking to this stranger.
As we said good-bye I told him I hoped we'd meet again soon. He nodded and said, "Who knows? It really is a small world." He turned, waved and left.
I walked back toward my office. All during lunch I felt an aura of kindness and, strangely enough, power around Gideon. Now back in the sunlight, the apparent mystery seemed to vanish.
The afternoon passed smoothly without as many difficulties as the morning. Several times I glanced through the window into the parking lot where I'd first seen Gideon. Perhaps, we'd meet again.
There was going to be a little dinner party at my house this evening. Just a few friends and neighbors getting together to enjoy each other's company. It was beginning to get dark. Possibly a storm was on the way, I thought. You never can tell with the weather these days. I decided to leave early to reach home before the rain came.
I was about to pull into my driveway when all the driveway lights went out. I thought, perhaps, the impending storm had something to do with it. Then the storm broke. Such fury of wind and rain I've rarely seen. The rain was a sheet of white water alternating with the reflection of brilliant flashes of lightning. The blasts of thunder reminded me of the legends of the gods on Mount Olympus hurling thunderbolts at their enemies. I could hardly see as I drove up the driveway and, since the electricity was out, I couldn't open the garage door either. After parking the car, I rushed into the house, getting drenched in the few seconds it took me to do so.
All was dark inside except for the areas lit by the few candles Mardai had found. Our dinner guests arrived and we made the best of a poor situation. We ate by candlelight and marveled at the many faces of nature.
"It seems really strange to me, John," one of the guests remarked.
"What seems strange?" I asked.
"The fury and nature of this storm. I just telephoned a neighbor down the street and he said that it didn't rain there."
"Didn't rain there? A few blocks away? How can that be?"
"And all their lights are on," he continued.
It was strange to see a storm that occurred in only a few square blocks. For no apparent reason I thought of Gideon. Immediately there was a blinding flash of lightning and all our lights came back on. We discussed the storm for a little while longer. Personally, I seemed to connect it with something having to do with Gideon. Yet, that made no sense.
Two weeks had passed since I last saw Gideon. Things at the office seemed a little worse and business was not getting any better. Our newly-invented device was not selling as we'd expected. We were fast approaching another financial crisis. In the past few years, it began to seem as though my life had been a journey from crisis to crisis with only brief pauses in between. Then, unexpectedly, I had to make a trip to the Midwest.
A potential account we had been courting for the past six months suddenly exhibited tremendous interest in our product. It would be a short trip, just two days. All travel and hotel arrangements made, it was soon time to leave.
No matter how many times I've flown, there's always a sense of excitement as I approach an airport. The noise of the jets generate thoughts of faraway places that intrigue me, but this was a business trip and all my thoughts had to be concentrated on the matter at hand.
After a pleasant flight, it was but a short cab ride to my hotel. I would be ready in the morning for my meeting with Mr. Seymour, the head of the company. I had never met Mr. Seymour in person but hoped he would receive my proposal in a favorable manner. A good night's rest and I would be raring to go, I thought. As I was filling out the necessary registration form, the desk clerk smiled and said, "We have a message for you, Mr. H." I opened the note. It stated simply that M. Tarkas would meet me later. Perhaps it was Mr. Seymour's idea to send someone to meet me.
I went to my room, unpacked my small overnight bag and took a quick shower. Then I phoned home to let everyone know I'd arrived safely. When it was time for dinner, I went down to the dining room. As I was walking across the lobby, a lady stepped up to me and said, "Hi! I'm Marla Tarkas. You're John!"
"Should I know you?" I asked, momentarily startled.
"Gideon told me you'd be here and asked that I offer my help."
Ah, here we go, I thought. Gideon again. And I hadn't seen him in weeks. Who was this woman, anyway? How had Gideon known about my trip? Perhaps, he had called my office and someone had mentioned it to him. But my secretary never gives out that kind of information. I must admit that I resembled a giant question mark as I stood there looking at Marla.
She smiled at me sweetly. "May I join you for dinner? We'll talk more then." I nodded numbly and we went to the dining room. When we were seated, I looked at Marla with evident discomfort.
She was beautiful but had a distant look, as if deep in thought. Her eyes were blue and her hair seemed to reflect a golden glow. She appeared to be perhaps 25 or so, but certainly not more than 30.
"How long have you known Gideon?" I asked.
"Oh, for ages," she said, smiling.
"I haven't seen him in weeks. And I really don't know Gideon that well. Had lunch with him once. Are you good friends?"
"He's one of my closest friends. We've been through a lot together."
"I wonder how Gideon knew about my trip," I said, hoping that Marla would shed some light on this. But all she said was, "Gideon knows many things and has his own ways of finding out."
I rolled this around in my mind for a few seconds, but could make no sense of it. Then I asked, "Do you work around here?"
"Not too far away."
"What's the name of your company?"
"You probably never heard of it, but it's called G & M Enterprises, Inc. I'm in the PR Department."
"Isn't that the same company Gideon works for?"
"Yes, but he's in a different department," she replied.
It was now all clear to me. Gideon and Marla knew each other because they worked for the same company. Gideon found out, one way or another, about my trip, called Marla and asked her to help me. He was only trying to repay a favor. It was so simple. Yet, why go to such extremes to repay a small favor? All I did was help him to get his car started, or so I thought.
The rest of dinner was spent telling Marla about my meeting with Mr. Seymour in the morning and the large contract my company hoped to land. We even talked a bit about the state of the economy. When we were through with dinner, she insisted on paying the bill. I objected, but she wouldn't hear of it. "You're my guest, John," she simply said.
As we left the table, she wished me success with my meeting the next day. I thanked her politely for dinner and for the time she had spent with me. Then she mentioned something about my receiving a phone call later that evening and was gone before I could question her. Since I wasn't expecting any phone calls, I was puzzled. Perhaps I thought, I'd misunderstood and Marla herself would call later.
I returned to my room, relaxed and read for a while. Whenever I travel, I always take along a few good books. This trip was no exception, so I stayed up and read while waiting for the phone call Marla had mentioned.
It was getting late and I needed a good night's rest to be fresh and ready to go in the morning. No phone call yet. I definitely must have misunderstood Marla. Thinking of what the following day would bring, I put away my book, turned off the lights and fell asleep. And as I slept, I dreamed.
In my dream, I went to a nearby city. There was an appointment I had to keep so, after locating the correct building, I went in. Behind a long desk sat a young lady whom I assumed was the receptionist. She looked up at me and before I could tell her the purpose of my visit she said, "Please wait. I must leave for a few minutes," and she was gone. While I waited for her return the phone rang. I hoped it would stop, at least until she returned, but it kept on and on as if determined to have me answer it.
When I could no longer ignore the ringing I finally picked up the receiver, if only to tell the other party that the receptionist would be back later. "Hello," I said. A friendly voice on the other end spoke, "Hi! Good morning. May I speak with Mr. Seymour, please?"
"I'm sorry, sir. The receptionist just stepped away from her desk for a short while. In fact, I'm awaiting her return," I said.
"Please, could you ask her when she returns to give Mr. Seymour a message for me?" he asked.
"Why certainly," I said, nervously trying to help.
"Please ask her to tell Mr. Seymour that Godfrey called. I've been talking with the Wittersham account and they are extremely interested. Mr. Wittersham himself is on his way over and will sign all necessary papers." I agreed to convey his message for which he thanked me and hung up. When the receptionist returned, I gave her the message. She then asked me to follow her and we went into an office where a distinguished looking gentleman was sitting at his desk. He rose and introduced himself. "I'm Seymour," he said. "Please sit."
Mr. Seymour told me that his company would buy our products if one of his largest accounts, the Wittersham Company, agreed to distribute them. He told me a little about Mr. Wittersham and how the Wittersham Company grew from a small beginning to become one of the largest in its industry. Wittersham, it seemed, was from the old school, conservative, had little patience and was a hard man to deal with. The only topic that he was ever interested in was the sea and he would literally spend hours talking about it.
Mr. Seymour was pleased that I had come. "Make sure you tell Wittersham about your early days by the ocean," he said, and all of a sudden the dream ended and I was awake in bed. It was a most vivid dream and thinking about it kept me awake for quite some time.
Finally, it was morning and I got up and prepared for my meeting with Mr. Seymour. After breakfast, I took a cab to his office. All the buildings were tall and clustered together in what appeared to be the main commercial area of the city. I paid my fare and walked into the building where Seymour's office was located. Without much waiting, I was ushered in to see him. The expression on my face was one of pure astonishment when I discovered that the real Mr. Seymour and the Mr. Seymour of my dream were exactly alike in physical features. I had never seen this man before and the coincidence seemed remarkable.
We talked for a while about my company's new product. He would be willing to do some business with us he said, but that would depend on one of his largest distributors. There was a knock at the door and an assistant rushed in and whispered to Mr. Seymour. Seymour smiled, looked at me and said, "I'm told that old James Wittersham just arrived and he's insisting on seeing me immediately." He turned to the assistant who stood awaiting his reply and asked her to show Mr. Wittersham in.
At first glance, Wittersham hardly seemed friendly. He gave a quick nod when I was introduced and started talking immediately. "Look now, Seymour. I don't have much time. Tell me about this product you want me to handle."
The whole scene appeared to be a replay of my dream from last night. I finally grew brave enough to look Mr. Wittersham straight in the eye and say, "Sir, perhaps I could be of some help. I'm from the company that manufactures the machine we're discussing. If you could give me five minutes of your time, I'll explain why our product is so good."
"Good? I don't want good! Damn! I want the best."
"I was just being modest. It's the best on the market."
Wittersham was a study in marble. Deep lines creased his face as he looked from me to Seymour and said, "Let's get on with it then."
I spent the next few minutes explaining all the benefits of our product. Wittersham appeared utterly unimpressed. Finally, in exasperation and in an effort to clutch at straws, I remembered my dream about Wittersham and the sea and concluded, "So you see, Mr. Wittersham, we make an excellent product. Incidentally, I wish you would visit our manufacturing facilities on the East Coast. Some lovely restaurants by the sea." He quickly looked at me and asked, "By the sea? Do you go there often?"
"Oh yes!" I responded, "I love to go down to the sea."
"I wish the ocean was closer to us," he mused. Pursuing the only possibility afforded me I said, "I was born not too far from the ocean. I spent many years of my life a stone's throw from the mighty Atlantic. I'd awake every morning to the sound of breakers. I'd watch the sea change from a silvery white in the morning to a deep dark blue in late afternoon." Seymour was looking at me and I could feel the frustration in his gaze as we discussed the sea. But the change on Wittersham's face was amazing. Gone was the scowl and he was now smiling.
"We must speak more about the sea one of these days," said Wittersham, "I myself am an old salt." Turning to Seymour, Wittersham continued, "Seymour, I like this young man. I'll be happy to have my company distribute your product." Then he abruptly got up, said good-bye and left.
I could hardly contain myself. After so many months we'd finally landed one of the largest accounts in this business. Seymour would now take on our product because his largest distributor wanted it. The dark clouds of depression were lifting and my spirit had already taken wings. I couldn't wait to tell them about it back home.
Seymour and I continued our conversation but it was now in a lighter vein. We talked about boyhood days when I stood on the shores of the Atlantic and gazed as far as the eye could see. How the passing of tramp steamers with smoke stained stacks would carry my thoughts to distant shores. How the tall ships with billowing, white sails would conjure up visions of mystic climes and far-off places. I told him of the many times I stood by a tree on the beach wondering if there were other boys standing on other shores looking out and wondering, just as I was doing.
I told him it was the song of the sea that lured me from my birthplace, led me through tropic isles with balmy breezes and finally set me down in the northeast portion of the United States. He smiled as I mentioned the song of the sea and how the thought of the trade winds still strongly calls to me, somewhat like the singing of the sirens to a tired Ulysses.
Finally it was time to leave. Seymour agreed to have all the necessary documents signed and sent to me within a few days. He promised to work very closely with us to make the project a success. We said good-bye and I took my leave of him and returned to the hotel. It had been an exciting morning.
Marla was waiting for me in the lobby. "I trust you had a productive morning," she said with a quick smile.
"Very productive," I replied, and as an afterthought mentioned that no one had called me last evening.
"Of course you got the call," she replied with a wink.
"No! Nobody called me last night," I insisted, somewhat puzzled.
"Didn't you receive a call for a Mr. Seymour? And wasn't a Mr. Wittersham discussed? And didn't the call contain important information which you used during your meeting today? Have you forgotten your dream?"
I almost fell over. I'd told no one about my dream, not that there was anyone to tell, anyway. Yet Marla knew about it. In fact, it seemed she knew exactly what dream I was going to have that night. I stared at her in awe. She seemed in some ways so similar to Gideon, especially in the way she said things. Noticing my discomfort, she calmly said, "Don't be alarmed. You'll understand more soon. Your flight leaves at six, so I'll pick you up at four. This way, we'll have enough time to get you to your plane." Before I could answer, she turned, waved and was gone.
Puzzled and intrigued by the turn of events, I went to my room, packed my things, relaxed for a while to think over the events of the day and promptly fell asleep, thus missing lunch. When I awoke, it was almost four o'clock, so I quickly collected my things and went down to the lobby to check out and await Marla's arrival. I tried to put out of my mind any thoughts about her and Gideon and their strange ways.
Marla was punctual and we made it to the airport in record time. In spite of the rush hour traffic, it almost seemed as if vehicles moved out of the way for us. Before saying good-bye, Marla mentioned she was extremely happy to have been of some help to me, that any friend of Gideon's was a friend of hers and it wouldn't be too long before all of us met again. I thanked her, wished her well, and boarded my flight.
Much as I tried to push Marla and Gideon out of my mind, thoughts of their strange ways haunted me and raised a thousand questions during the flight. I finally managed to engross myself in one of the in-flight magazines, knowing that in a few hours I'd be home.
On my way to the office the following morning, I couldn't help but reflect on the events of the past few days. Without a doubt, the trip was an amazing success. I wondered whether Mr. Wittersham would have agreed to distribute our products had it not been for the conversation about the sea. And how would I ever have thought about talking of the ocean had it not been for the meeting I'd dreamt about? In a never-ending circle these thoughts raised more questions about Gideon and Marla. The more I thought of it, the more complex it seemed.
The sound of a car horn woke me from my reverie. It was an old Volkswagen passing me on the left. I briefly wondered why the driver sounded his horn, since I was already in the right lane. As it passed me, however, I noticed the word "GIDEON" on its license plate. My attention diverted, I almost ran into a telephone post. This is crazy, I thought.
Within minutes of my arrival at the office, the telephone rang. It was my private line. The ringing startled me since it was still only seven in the morning and I wasn't expecting any calls so early. Only three people had the number for my private line: one was Mardai and the other two were extremely close friends. I picked up the handset. It was Gideon.
"How did you get this number?" I asked.
"Shouldn't you first ask how I'm doing?" he answered.
Dutifully I asked, "How are you Gideon?" followed quickly by, "How did you get this number?"
"I'm sure you have a lot of questions and that's why I called. Listen, John, we'll meet in the park at lunch time and I'll explain everything." He hung up--as abruptly as that.
At first, I thought I'd ignore the incident and stay as far away from these people as possible, but my curiosity got the best of me and I relented.
It was almost noon when I left the office for the short walk to the park. Gideon, hopefully, would be there to provide some explanations for the perplexing things that had occurred. It was a lovely, sunny day. Cradled by the warmth, I felt like sitting under a tree and practicing changing the shapes of clouds. I found it both exciting and relaxing at the same time. You pick a small cloud at first and then try to mold it in your mind into various vapory sculptures. As you become more proficient, you choose larger and larger clouds. You may even want to vaporize them entirely or create new ones where there weren't any before. It is amazing how easily it works with practice.
Arriving at the park, I picked a spot under a large oak tree, where a bench was located. I sat down and waited for Gideon while observing the birds and squirrels. It was peaceful and, strangely, almost other-worldly beautiful. A blue jay was pecking at a piece of bread someone had dropped, and the wind ran races through the growing grass. Except for me, there wasn't anyone else in the park. A voice interrupted, "Hope I haven't kept you waiting long." Startled, I turned around and there was Gideon. "Funny, I didn't see you approaching," I said.
This time he was dressed in a sailor's uniform, as if he had been out sailing. He sat down next to me on the bench and began biting into an apple he'd brought along.
"Aren't you hungry?" he asked.
"No, I'm going to skip lunch today."
"Are you sure? I have another apple, if you like."
"No, thank you."
We both sat for a while in silence before I blurted out, "How did you know about my trip? How did you get my telephone number and anyway, who is Marla?"
"Slow down, John. One question at a time. You've been wondering about how I know certain things. Let me tell you. I know many things. You know them, too. However, you just don't remember them. Some of us remember much more than others. Think again of how many things you have known without ever being able to figure out how you knew them."
"Is that all? Are you a psychic or something like that? You see things before they happen? I know a lady who could do that."
"That, I am, too. But much more is involved. It's one way of explaining it."
"You're more than a psychic? Who are you? What are you?"
He looked at me quizzically with a semi-pleased expression on his bearded face. "Of course I'm more than a psychic," he said, "I am Gideon. I am who I am. I am I."
I had come here for answers, not to listen to more riddles. Those were answers any schoolboy could give. I was determined more than ever, to get to the bottom of this. "Who is this Marla Tarkas?" I asked.
"Did you like her? I hoped you would. An extremely fine energy form she is."
"And an extremely fine physical form, too. But who is she? What's this business that you people are involved in? Is this a cult?"
He became much more serious now. "No, John, not a cult as you would think. There are some of us who are involved in certain types of work that are different from the ones you have been accustomed to. We are joined together by bonds that go back into eternity. Marla is one. So am I and, of course, so are you."
I stopped him right there. "It's fine for you and Marla to be... well... whatever you are or want to be, but leave me out of this." I was becoming somewhat annoyed and uncomfortable with his answers, but he continued. "You know me as Gideon. And that I am. But a name doesn't tell much. I am what is called, a 'helper of mankind.' I come from way before your time and go far beyond your guess. I come from anytime and anyplace and could go anywhere and anywhen."
I sat glued to the wooden bench. I had known that he was strange, but not this strange. I never really took him too seriously before, but now he was dead serious. On occasion, I did wonder how he knew things about me and my work that I hadn't told him. I'd heard about such people before. I had also not discounted the possibility of meeting one, in fact, I had hoped that I would someday. Yet, when one sits next to you on a park bench, your initial reaction is to run away--and as fast as possible. But sitting there with him, I actually felt an aura of tremendous power around him and thought I should probably give this encounter a bit more serious consideration.
"You speak as if you're from another world, Gideon. You also seem to have strange abilities and powers. Why are you spending so much time with me? What do you want from me?"
"My abilities are no stranger than yours or anyone else's. They may appear strange to you because you do not understand them. When you understand natural law, nothing is strange, nothing is a miracle. I have been around helping others for ages. Or better yet, throughout time. There is an old earth saying that goes, 'When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.' You're ready, so here I am."
"Who? Me, a student? I wasn't looking for a teacher. I've had my share of teachers and don't want to take any more exams. As it is these days, I am already being tested to the limit. Teachers and students imply tests."
"So you think you've learned everything and have no further need for teachers? If you're so brilliant, how come your financial empire is falling apart? Listen. All of life is an examination, a learning and testing experience, if you will. You examine and test yourself constantly. A little help now and then wouldn't hurt, you know. There are things I still can teach you. No, let me rephrase. There are things I could lead you to learn. Things I could help you to remember."
Part of me really wanted to believe him. The other part was the scientific, analytical part which was very cautious. That part said that he was crazy. And yet, I've seen few men who appeared to be more sane than he.
"Show me something--a small miracle or so, and I'll believe what you're saying."
"Believe and I'll show you. You have things reversed, John. I see we have a lot of work to do."
In a quick change of direction, I asked, "Where's your car? Where are you parked?"
"There are many other ways of traveling. I don't really need a car."
Again he was lying, I thought. The first time I met him, he was in a car.
As if reading my thoughts, he said, "When you saw me the first time, I did have a vehicle. I needed something to get your attention. So the car, the engine problem, the lifted hood . . . all props, all effects for your sake. You wouldn't have stopped to talk with me any other way."
All this in such a short time was becoming too much for me to absorb. As I mentioned earlier, it had always been my desire to meet someone like him. In books and dreams I had come across some, but here and now in a park in this small town? This was an entirely different matter. And why did he pick me? He still hadn't answered that to my satisfaction. I was quiet for a few moments.
Gideon continued, "I have known you for eons, for millennia. You are a challenge to me. One part of you accepts these ideas totally and with full understanding. Then there is the other part of you that sees only with eyes and hears only with ears. That part tries to analyze, rationalize and compromise. You are a man of many parts, Mr. H."
Gideon's reference to knowing me for ages was a surprise, but I had read about such things before and chose not to pursue it at this point. Not being in a big hurry to return to the office, I thought that I'd listen to a little more of what he had to say.
He spoke of seeing with the inner eye and of hearing with the inner ear. That all life forms were connected to one another by invisible ties. That the universe was like a spider's web, where thought or action in one area affected the entire fabric. I listened, fascinated by the new possibilities he brought to my mind. Finally, he said, "It was good seeing you again, John. We will continue our discussion at a later date. Meanwhile, keep an open mind. I bid you a fond adieu."
I looked at him and then at my watch. When I glanced up again, he was gone. It couldn't have been more than a second later yet, he was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps I had fallen asleep on the park bench and dreamed it all. But no! A few yards away was an apple core he had left for the birds. It was time to return to the more mundane aspects of life, so I got up and walked back to the office.
The days rolled slowly by, summer blending into autumn. Those lovely, lazy, fall days when all you want to do is sit under a tree and dream of far-off horizons and distant shores. I hadn't seen or heard from Gideon in a while and wondered what had become of him.
Although he'd made a strong impression on me, I preferred not to analyze it. I was somewhat familiar with what he'd said, since I had read books about these ideas. I even had some friends who were considered to be psychically gifted, but still Gideon had a different effect on me. He'd spoken of the awesome potential of the human mind and of how we only used a small portion of it. He'd pointed out that most people were content to be left in their misery and that these same people refused to see the very light that would change their misery to joy. I could almost hear his voice again as he spoke to me that day in the park.
A close friend of the family would be visiting soon. June Mareena Ridley was a very special friend. She was a clairvoyant, a person who could see events before they happened. At parties and get-togethers, she would do "mind stuff" that never ceased to amaze everyone.
I met her many years ago when I was completing a graduate business degree, part-time, at a major university. I had just finished my last class of the evening and was leaving when a poster on the bulletin board caught my attention. It stated that the internationally renowned psychic, June M. Ridley, would be giving a lecture and demonstration in the auditorium at 10:30 AM the following day.
Never having met a real psychic, I thought it would be interesting to see one in action. At that time, I was employed by a small manufacturing company and had responsibilities in the production area. Because I was new at the job, it would be difficult to leave during regular working hours to attend the lecture.
At work the next morning, however, a nagging, uneasy feeling came over me. I had a strong urge to attend the lecture. It was as if I was being pulled to go and listen to June. The more I tried to overcome the feeling, the stronger it became. Finally, I gave in to the compulsion. Giving a feeble excuse to my boss, I then drove as fast as I legally could to the university.
It was shortly after 10:30 AM when I arrived and the lecture had already started. I intensely dislike being late. Generally, I arrive for an appointment early and would rather wait in a parking lot or reception area than be even one minute late. This time, however, I couldn't help it. I rushed into the auditorium. Almost every seat was occupied. In the front row, however, there was a lone, empty seat which I quickly took. It was so quiet in the room you could hear a pin drop.
Standing at the podium was an attractive, middle-aged woman of medium height. She looked at me, smiled and continued her lecture. I felt the audience's annoyance at my late arrival and I angrily thought to myself, "I want to be late, OK?" But after a few moments the meaning of what the woman was saying caught up with me. She told us about her ability to see things before they occurred and how she was able to give what are called "readings" to people. She explained that she was born with the "gift of seeing," that each and every human being had the ability to develop those same talents. She spoke of God, angels and spirits, of different dimensions and different worlds. I was just beginning to think that I'd wasted the entire morning when she decided to give us a demonstration of her natural abilities."
She asked if anyone in the audience had ever seen or met her before in person. No one had. Beginning with the back of the room, she pointed to people at random and told them a little about themselves and their lives. To one especially nervous woman, she said, "Your friend Elizabeth will be getting married soon and will be moving out of the area. She is so concerned about her sick mother that she needs all the support you can give her. Do you understand what I mean?" The woman was simply astounded. "Yes! Yes! That's so true," she stammered.
After a few more "readings" she turned to a tall, dark man somewhere in the middle rows. "The trucking business which you are about to start will become a tremendous success," she said. "Watch out, however, for one of your partners--the short one with the beard and funny hat. He will try to take control of the company away from you. Do you understand what I am talking about?"
"That's amazing," said the man, "Absolutely amazing. There's no way you could know about my trucking business and my partners," and he kept shaking his head in astonishment.
By this time, I was becoming very excited about the possibility of my turn. June pointed to a few others and gave each of them some important bits of information, but totally ignored me. Perhaps, she's disregarding me as punishment for my tardiness I thought with paranoia, but I knew that couldn't be the reason.
Finally, because she'd been speaking for such a long time, she asked if someone could bring her a glass of water. Here was my opportunity to be noticed. Up I jumped and rushed to the water fountain in the hallway. Using a paper cup, I hurriedly brought June some water. Surely now she would notice me and tell me something about my future. Again I was wrong. Not one word did she say to me.
As the lecture came to an end, I sat there, progressively more dejected. After she thanked everyone for coming, she looked at me and said, "Young man, I'll see you later. What I have to tell you wouldn't be understood by anyone here, least of all by you." I was surprised, but happy to have the chance to speak with her in private.
The professor who organized the lecture arranged for me to see June a short while later. It was one of the most amazing visits I'd ever had with anyone. Without having seen me before or knowing anything about my past, she told me about my job, my family and where and how I lived. She said that in less than six months I would have a new job, but that I shouldn't be concerned about it. It would be the birth of something wonderful for me, but she said, like all births it would be painful for a short while. She continued for almost an hour telling me about my past, present and future and touched on things that only I could know. While she was speaking, she seemed to be in another world. Her voice was soft and peaceful. Then as our meeting ended, she gave me her phone number and said, "I would really like to meet you again. You and your wife should come visit soon." And so, we did a few months later.
We soon became very good friends. Many of the things she foretold began to take place. In less than six months I'd lost my job when the company moved to another state. Although I remained unemployed for a while before finding another position, I used the time to start my own small, part-time business. Since then, many things changed for the better. The company grew and diversified. We moved from our apartment into a house and then a few years later into a much larger one.
Throughout the years, June remained a constant friend and advisor. Every six months or so, between her radio shows or television interviews, she would visit us for a week or two. These visits were always very special. By this time, Mardai and I were the parents of two beautiful children and June would spend hours with them.
Little Malika was a favorite of June's and Jonathan would keep her busy for hours. So it was with joy and excitement that we were, once again, awaiting June's arrival. We had not seen her in almost six months so, there would be much to talk about. We were now totally used to her strange abilities and hardly questioned them at all. We had certainly seen enough over the years to know that she had that rare "gift of seeing."
I wondered what Gideon was doing. With June's arrival, I'd almost completely forgotten about him. At the dinner table, June told us about her most recent television interview. It was always interesting listening to her describe these events. Although she would give readings to anyone, her clientele also included some well-known public figures. Movie stars, politicians and high level business leaders consulted with her on a regular basis.
A short while later, with the children tucked into bed, June, Mardai and I retired to the family room. Our house was built in the shape of an "H" with the sleeping area occupying one side. The living rooms--there were two--were located in the center of the "H" and the kitchen, dining room and family room were on the other side. Because the family room was completely separated from the bedrooms, it was possible for us to talk and laugh to our hearts' content without disturbing the children who were sleeping peacefully.
On one side of the room was a fireplace and across from that stood a piano, a gift from my wife's parents. The piano bench was pulled slightly away from the piano. We'd been talking for just a short while when June turned to me and said, "The man sitting on your piano bench says that he's here to help you understand new things." Having known June for such a long time we should have been used to such comments, especially when only the three of us were there and I was the only man present.
I looked across and saw only an empty bench. "What man are you talking about, June?" I asked.
She said, "The one over there. He's now looking at you and smiling."
"Don't do that to us. You know I can't see anyone sitting there."
"He says you know him, John, that you've met before. He has a beard and dark, piercing eyes. He says he wants to help you in your growth and learning and that you've been 'going through' experiences instead of 'growing through' them."
That's Gideon, the description fit him perfectly. "What's his name, June?"
"I can't get the exact sound but it seems to be Simeon . . . or no . . . it has a 'G'. It starts with a 'G'. His name is Gideon. He said that you ought to know the spelling because not too long ago you saw it on a license plate. He laughed as he said that. He said that you ought to keep an open mind. He's saying good-bye now and that he'll see you again soon. Now he's gone."
So, it was Gideon again. But I couldn't see him this time. Neither could Mardai. Only June saw him. But then, she always saw things others could not. We discussed this for a while and I recounted how I met Gideon and the events that occurred thereafter. June seemed to understand and, like Gideon, asked that I keep an open mind.
"It's your strict scientific background that causes you to stumble many times, John."
Maybe she was right. I was always trying to be logical about everything. In my college days, I was trained as a chemist and mathematician--labs, research and analyzing. Perhaps, more than most, I insisted on seeing before believing. And this, in spite of the fact that I knew and accepted June and her abilities.
Yet, the most successful times in my life were when I guided myself by the "still, small voice." Some people call it gut feelings, others call it intuition. The times that caused me the most problems were those when I drowned out the inner voice with logic and analysis. I really needed to learn how to re-program my thinking. I decided then and there to balance logic and intuition, to let them work together instead of against each other and to follow the inner guidance more consistently.
On Sunday morning June departed for home. We said our good-byes, promising to meet again soon. Her last words to me were, "Remember, the man on the piano bench will be in touch with you, John. Listen to him and keep an open mind."
In an effort to clarify the many confusing thoughts in my mind, I decided to go for a walk in the woods behind my house. Since he likes nothing better than to run free in the forest, I took Rajah with me. About three hundred yards from the house if you go north by northwest, is a small, open area in the middle of the trees and bushes. In that clearing is a giant rock with many smaller rocks surrounding it. Legend was that centuries ago, a mysterious tribe of American Indians lived in this area. Perhaps, I thought, this was the place of their high worship ceremonies. We walked into the clearing.
It was quiet and peaceful by the rock. The morning sun streamed through the leaves and branches of the tall trees falling directly on the little patch where Rajah and I stood. The serenity seemed to reach back into time. It felt like long, long ago in another country and another clime.
In my youth, it was a joy for me to spend hours in the forests. And forests and streams were plentiful. The little village where I was born couldn't have covered more than a few square miles. To the north was the Atlantic Ocean and to the south were miles of misty, tropical rain forests for a boy to explore, if he dared. And always there was the perpetual, subtle call of the ocean, a sea song luring me away to distant places. The forests also sang, but their songs carried the soothing comfort of the familiarity of home. Home to me was this small fishing and farming village, literally cut out of the jungle by my grandfather and a group of stalwart men.
Year after year the village grew as the inhabitants constantly fought back the jungle and the sea. It seemed that both wanted to reclaim the village as a prize. In time, the village would become extremely prosperous, only to die years later after I left. In my mind though, it was still my village and thoughts of those times raced through my mind.
"It is in remembering the times of your strength and overcomings that you can grow stronger and overcome even more." The voice thundered into my head and interrupted my thoughts which roamed the village streets of long ago. Looking around, I saw him leaning on a boulder next to mine. He was dressed like a story-book character, bright colors, strange hat and cowboy boots.
"Gideon! What are you doing here? Where did you come from?" The astonishment in my voice startled Rajah.
"Just came from a party. Some folks in another time and place."
"I'm beginning to believe you really do the crazy things you talk about, like time travel and nonsense like that."
"You would do well to believe the things I tell you, John. Time travel is far from being nonsense. It's done regularly by those who know how. There are some of us who commute to other times just as simply and easily as you commute to other places."
"Were you in my house the other night?"
"Sitting on your piano bench. You couldn't see me, but your friend, June, did."
"Why couldn't I see you?"
"You were looking only with your physical eyes. Had you looked with your inner eye, you would have seen me too."
"Things like an inner eye and time travel seem so much like science fiction to me. Do you really think that people can travel through time? I mean... ."
He interrupted me. "You already travel through time. One method should be obvious. You were awake at six-thirty this morning and it's almost ten-thirty now. You have traveled almost four hours since you got up this morning."
"That's silly. Everyone does that."
"Because it's so obvious, no one ever observes the process carefully. It's taken for granted. It's called existing or living. The other method is more fun, or more frightening, depending on the encounters. You travel through time in your dreams. There it happens automatically. The conscious mind is removed from its monitoring functions. The other parts of you which accept the seemingly miraculous as natural function in their own time and space."
"But that happens without any rhyme or reason. Dream times are uncontrollable."
"Not quite, if you really understand how it works. What time does your watch read right now?"
"Ten-thirty on the dot."
"I'll give you a demonstration. Think of a time in your past that you'd like to see again, if you could. Close your eyes and hold that thought in your mind for a few seconds."
I thought of an incident in college many years ago. A well-known speaker was giving a lecture in the auditorium. Since I had enough time before the lecture started, I decided to get a cup of coffee in the cafeteria. I was enjoying my coffee at a table in the corner when a man walked up to me and asked, "May I join you?"
I replied, "Of course," as he sat down. Our conversation had lasted for about an hour. I wished I could go back to that scene for just a short while.
Gideon said, "Let's go and see your college incident again."
He had hardly spoken the words when I was overcome by an enormous swirling sensation. When it stopped, I looked around. Imagine my surprise to find myself and Gideon standing in the college cafeteria of long ago. Other students were standing around and I began to worry about how I would explain our presence when Gideon said, "Don't worry. They can't see or hear us. You're visiting another time. They'll only be able to see us if we want them to. It's better this way at first."
He led me to a small table across from where we were standing. Two people were drinking coffee. Somehow, they seemed familiar.
"Don't you know who those people are, John?" asked Gideon.
I looked a bit closer and was amazed to realize that the younger man was me--not me as I am today, but the me I was many years ago in college. There I sat as a college student, much younger and thinner, without the gray in my hair, sipping coffee with another man. "We're looking back in time, John," Gideon said. "That's the event you were thinking of when we left your present-time situation. Do you recognize the other man? Don't you remember that he came to your table and sat with you for a while before he went on to give his lecture?"
"That was Dr. Martin Luther King! I didn't know it when he first sat down, but by the end of our conversation, he revealed who he was."
"Do you recall the effect his conversation had on you?"
"How could I ever forget? The compassion and the vision of that man! I'll always remember that."
"You see, we can visit events from the past and observe, remember and learn from them."
Fascinated, I stood there watching and listening in on their conversation. Finally Gideon said, "It's time for us to leave here and go on to another time and place."
A thought struck me. "Could we have participated in their conversation, Gideon? I mean, the me of then and the me of now conversing with each other?"
"Yes, but there are certain rules one has to observe. For now, let's go."
He had barely spoken when I felt the return of the swirling sensation. The entire scene changed and we found ourselves standing on the bank of a river. A young man dressed in Hindu clothing was approaching us. "You'll notice, John, that we can participate in this event," said Gideon.
The man walked up to us, tossed a smile at me and spoke to Gideon. "Hello! They told me you'd be here soon, so I hurried to meet you." Gideon seemed to know him and introduced him with the words, "My friend Krishna, of Hindu mythology."
The two of them continued a lively conversation as we approached the water's edge. It was barely sunrise as I stood on a large flat rock looking out over the calm waters. It was a beautiful morning as the sun reflected waving patterns of molten gold across the water's surface.
"What river is this?" I asked Krishna.
"It's a tributary of the river Ganga--what you would call the Ganges. In time, it will become the holiest of rivers for Hindus, just as the Jordan will become the holiest of rivers for Christians and Jews alike."
Krishna walked over to the rock where I stood. He placed his foot on it and then moved aside. As I glanced down, I saw a footprint appear on the stone where there was none before.
"Did you do that?" I asked
He smiled mischievously. "They'll speak about it for generations to come. Yea! For thousands of years, until they learn to direct their footsteps toward the light which beckons to all of us."
"Don't the Hindus speak of you as the most important manifestation of their god, Vishnu? I mean, in the twentieth century, they actually worship and sing praises to you. How do you feel about that?"
"We are all manifestations of God. We were created in the image of God. But the sad part is whenever any one person points the way to a better and more fulfilling life, his followers very quickly forget the way and start worshipping the way-shower."
"That's an interesting thought," I replied. "Sort of like worshipping the messenger while ignoring the message."
"Gideon is a close friend of mine," said Krishna. "We've known each other for eternity. He's agreed to work with you and teach you some of the eternal truths. Pay attention to him and you'll find that you're listening to yourself. Life is a joyous adventure. Start to enjoy it"
As I stood on the banks of this holy river, a sudden peace enveloped me. I felt at one with the world, at one with the universe. Perhaps, this was what was meant by "atonement," or, "at-one-ment." Then I heard Gideon saying to me, "We must return now." We said good-bye to Krishna and then that swirling sensation returned again. In the blink of an eye, we were transported back to the woods behind my house.
My watch still read ten-thirty. Apparently totally unconcerned, Rajah remained exactly where we'd left him. Gideon stood next to me. "Sit down," I said, motioning towards a large rock, "perhaps, you could explain some of this to me."
I stretched out on the grass under the tall trees and awaited Gideon's reply.
Gideon settled on a rock and wriggled somewhat to make himself more comfortable. "Time is like the tides," he said, "or more correctly, like a river. There are currents, white and dark water and backwash. Human beings have been conditioned from birth to believe in sequential time, that is, time as moment after moment. By the ripe old age of five or six, one has generally forgotten the intricacies of the nature of time and space and thus is primed to live in a world where tomorrows come after todays and yesterdays lead to todays."
As much as one part of me wanted to understand what he was saying, another part was firmly anchored in the logical thinking processes. "Stop, Gideon, I don't really think all that is important. In fact, I'm relatively comfortable in this time slot. What with television, advanced computers, other electronic marvels, space probes to distant planets and so forth, who knows? This time and place could still be fun."
"If you don't blow yourself up first, or die of asphyxiation because there is no more breathable air. No clean water to drink because your rivers and streams have been poisoned by chemicals."
"Oh it's not that bad. At least not, yet..., I think. But let's get back to this 'time' thing. We visited different times, didn't we?"
"Yes, indeed we did."
"Tell me about the classic case, Gideon. Suppose I had gone back to the time when my great grandfather was a boy. Suppose we met, there was a fight and he was killed. Just suppose, OK? Would I be here, now? Would I be there or anywhere? Explain that. How could I have been born if my great grandfather had died as a boy? Ha! Got you on that one!"
"Pretty clever, but still at the kindergarten level. In that probable lifetime you would not have lived as such, but in another and another and a hundred thousand others you live and are as vibrant and alive as you are here."
"You mean that there are thousands of me living in thousands of different situations in thousands of worlds? Come on, Gideon."
"Let's not get too involved in this matter of 'time', John. It's rather an advanced concept. Suffice it to say that we, you or anyone with some practice could travel to different times and different places. Manage your thoughts and you determine your existence in space and time."
"That's fine for space and time but I'm getting hungry. I can't take you home and introduce you to my family. What would I say? 'Here, meet my good friend Gideon who dresses strangely, travels through time and knows Krishna'?"
"Your family wouldn't be able to see me at this time. And as for being hungry, look at your watch. What time is it?"
I glanced at my watch and saw that it was still only ten-thirty, although we had been talking for what seemed like hours, not counting the "trips" we had made. It felt as if time hadn't passed. I looked at him and said, "You certainly couldn't stop time, could you? Not even you could do that."
"No. All we did was center ourselves in an area of non-movement of time and so it appeared that time stood still. Not to worry though. All is well with you and your family and the world, if you will. No side effects."
I looked across to Rajah. He was sleeping peacefully. Next to him was a picnic basket. "What's that, Gideon?" I asked, pointing.
"Just lunch. You said you were hungry, didn't you? I brought it with me this morning. Let's have some."
Strange, but I hadn't noticed the basket before. We helped ourselves to a delicious lunch while Gideon continued his commentary.
"It's really simple," he said. "In fact, very simple when you understand it. Each person exists in many dimensions and many systems. Each one inhabits the entire universe, but most times, is focused in only one tiny spot--the here and now. But that's precisely the most important spot in life, the here and now. From that spot, each one influences his entire future and past."
"You know, Gideon, our church fathers would string you up for saying such things. What with all this nonsense talk about being born again, or having lived before? Surely, you don't believe that... ."
He interrupted me again. "You live as many lifetimes as are needed on earth. In each lifetime, you learn and strive to be better than the one 'before,' if you accept time as sequential. If you accept time as eternally now, then you exist in many systems and dimensions simultaneously."
It was a rather pleasant and 'learningful' morning. Brimming with food for thought, Gideon's repertoire had offered me some extraordinary perspectives to consider. It was, however, time to return to normal and to experience present time and people as I knew them.
"Don't be too hard on
yourself, John. You've actually done quite well. I am, as you
now can see, an other-worldly being. So are all of you on earth.
You're all just visitors here. Some of you know this. Others
prefer to remain ignorant of that fact. Whichever way you prefer,
you still have access to awesome power. See you soon." And
then he was gone. The lunch basket disappeared too--not even
a leftover crumb. Only Rajah and I remained. Simultaneously,
we rose and walked back to the house.
The remainder of Sunday was enjoyable. I have little trouble with weekends. It's the time between weekends that sometimes gives me problems. All too soon Monday arrived. The ride to the office was taken up with reflections on the past few days. Although we realized we'd be seeing her again soon, June's visit had been most welcome, but much too short.
Gideon still amazed and intrigued me. There was no doubt in my mind that he had access to considerable information and power. I accepted some of his concepts such as time travel as distinct possibilities, especially since I was a party to some of those journeys with him. But again, some of his ideas were difficult to reconcile as I struggled with my "reality thinking."
As usual, I was the first one to arrive at the office. As I walked in turning on the lights, he was waiting for me, sitting on the chair across from my desk. "Gideon! Not you again!" I exclaimed.
"It seems as if you're getting bored with me, John," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
"No, of course not," I hastened to assure him. "Not bored, just amazed that you always appear at the strangest times."
"That's good to know. I came because I felt that you're going to need to see a bit more clearly today." He did not smile this time and was more serious than I'd ever known him to be.
"What do you mean, Gideon?"
"You're afraid," he said, "for your employees, your family, your friends and others. You think you've done all you could to make things better and yet, you feel that you can't see the light."
"You seem to be reading my mind again, Gideon. What you say is true, but I'm only human."
"Only human, John? Only human?" He was intense as he continued. "You use that as an excuse. You're much more than just human. You and everyone else are more divine than human. You were all created in the image and likeness of the First Force, the Almighty. Don't you remember the numerous legends of creation?"
"Yes, of course. So what? I'm human or divine or both. It really doesn't matter. I'm still concerned about myself and my people and because of my concern, I sometimes fear and tremble. Is it so terrible to care for others? Is it a sign of weakness to be concerned about your fellow human beings? What's so terrible about that?"
"No, not the caring, John. The worrying is what gets you. You must make a distinction between caring and worrying. You care, so you try to make everything work right. When nothing seems to work right, you worry and become fearful and because of the fear, you short-circuit yourself."
"In what way or manner, O Great One?" I asked somewhat sarcastically.
"You see, John, the rules are really quite simple. The Creator made everything and all of us. We, also, are creators. We are endowed with many of the qualities of the Creator, but most times, these qualities are so deeply buried that they're hardly ever recognized or used."
"Yes, Lord and Master, please continue. Your humble servant listens."
He ignored my mocking attitude and continued. "Worry is a form of directed energy, John. Worry removes your focus from everything else and directs it in a concentrated manner on that which you fear. Worry and fear then join to bring into your existence the very thing which you feared."
"So, how do I stop worrying? Tell me that!"
"You stop worrying when you understand the universal laws that make things work. One of those laws says that whatever you see in your mind, good or bad, if you believe it, it will come to pass. Creation starts in your mind with your thoughts and imagination. Cause and effect world, John. Use insight and you'll see right. What you sow, you shall reap. As you think and believe, so it becomes."
"Good sayings, Gideon. I know most of those things but how do I use that knowledge in a practical way? How do I use it to improve my present situation?"
"By centering yourself and looking within you. This is an inside job, you see. The answers are all within you. Not outside, not in someone else and not even in the one you call God."
That puzzled me for a second. "I thought that God could do everything. Why wouldn't He have the answers? More important, why wouldn't He give us some of those answers, especially when we pray to Him so earnestly?"
"Because you don't understand God and the methods He gave us for finding answers. We don't have to beg or plead. We only have to relax and become quiet and to believe in ourselves and the abilities inherent in us. Then we'd begin to receive answers in the form of ideas. We must believe and trust the process. God doesn't withhold our good from us. However, He does want us to learn by discovering the process. Often we're just unable to see that we already have, or can have, what we want."
This discussion set me to thinking about God. Humanity does seem to have so many gods. The Muslims have one, the Christians another, the Jews yet another and on and on. Some have more than one. Various religions locate their gods in places such as temples, mountains, streams and skies. Legends speak of greater and lesser gods.
Even I have a god with whom I was vaguely acquainted. I had learned in Sunday school that He lived in a place called heaven. He seemed so far removed from everyone and everything that only popes and priests, pastors and preachers, kings, emperors and presidents had access to Him. One would lift beseeching hands and cry in pain to this god ,but most times, no answer. I thought I'd throw a curve at Gideon.
"Hey, Gideon, you know so much. Tell me about God. Who and what is He? Why doesn't He hear when people cry to Him? Tell me if you can."
Without blinking an eye, Gideon answered, "Your religions are like schools in different countries. They teach you basically the same thing but in different languages and in different ways. Some schools may stress art or history, while others may place more emphasis on chemistry or math. But there's a common thread in all of them--they lead to the same place, the Temple of Wisdom and Light. So God by any other name is still God. The cry of the ancient Hebrews, 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord thy God is One,' is as true now as it was then, or ever will be.
"God is not in a place or time. God is here and now. Heaven or hell is here and now. God does not sit on a golden throne surrounded by angels who play harps or fly around all day. If you think that is what heaven is, you'd better start taking music lessons as well as flying lessons. God is in each person, in each life form, in each and every part of creation. God is no more or less present in you than in another life form at the edge of the galaxy.
"And God listens and cares. He's even concerned about the little sparrows and the lilies of the field. Wouldn't He be concerned about you, or for that matter, me?"
I was sorry I brought it up. We could talk about that subject for days. Again I changed the direction of the conversation. "Why don't I see clearly what must be done for my company? Is it necessary that all this, which took a lifetime to build, be torn apart or destroyed?"
Patiently Gideon responded, "If it must be that way for your greater good, then accept it. If it doesn't have to be that way, then that's fine too. But you're the one who has to decide. Prepare yourself for that which you're seeking. Know that what you're seeking is also seeking you. You want a successful corporation? Then prepare for it. Know that the forces of the universe will rush in to bring you what you want, provided of course, you want it badly enough and believe that you can get it. Or, better yet, deserve it.
"All problems on earth are of three types: health, money and relationships. Look at any problem and it will fall under one or a combination of these three categories. There are proper and correct methods one must use to solve a problem, just as there are to drive a car or to build a house.
"Now, I must leave you, John. There are many more things to discuss, but we'll meet again soon. Incidentally, I'd like to introduce you to a good friend of mine who may be of some help to you. He has an office in the Big City. When you have a slow day we could visit him. Would you like that?"
"Certainly. If he could help us with this financial thing, I would go to the ends of the earth to meet him." Mischievously I added, "Even if he's half as strange as you, it would be fun."
"I'm sure you'll like him. Let's go soon," he said. He stood up and smiled, "Have a good day, John." Then he was gone. It would be weeks before I'd see him again.
It was true that our company had finally managed to acquire a large contract, but things still weren't going the way we'd have liked. Although everyone was working very hard the results weren't comparable to the efforts. Additional financing was urgently needed. Without these funds, the company would be unable to increase production to meet the necessary requirements of the contract. There was even the possibility of having to dissolve the corporation, but I didn't like to think about that.
At our last meeting, Gideon had mentioned that he wanted me to meet with one of his friends in the Big City. If there was a possibility that it could lead me to the proper contacts for a business loan, I was even more interested than before. If nothing came of it, at least I wouldn't have left any stone unturned. It might even turn out that the meeting would be enjoyable and there were so few fun things I did these days. I thought I'd call Gideon and see if I could make arrangements to go with him soon to visit his friend.
As I searched my desk for his business card, the phone rang. Of course, it was Gideon. "I see that you're ready to go to the Big City," he said. "I'll meet you in your parking lot at nine-thirty tomorrow morning." Without waiting for a reply, he hung up.
At nine-thirty the next morning, I was walking toward my car in the parking lot when I spotted him. He was standing at attention near my car, waiting for me. Few things surprised me about this man these days. "Good morning, Gideon. Ready to go?" I asked.
"Sure, let's go. I'm positive you'll have a fine morning, John," he replied.
As we drove out of the parking lot, I jokingly asked, "Why do we have to use a car, Gideon? I mean, you're able to traverse space and time. Let's do it the easy way. Let's arrive in the Big City instantaneously and avoid all the traffic."
Those dark, piercing eyes narrowed as he answered. "I'll tell you a story."
"Once upon a time in the ancient land of Bharat, there lived a Guru and his bramcharyas or, as you would call them, disciples. Each disciple was supposed to pick as his test a very difficult task to perform. He was to work exceedingly hard for several years to perfect himself in the task that he, himself, had set. There was this one disciple, somewhat brighter than the others yet, so very shy and timid.
"'And what task have you set for yourself, my son?' asked the kindly Guru.
"'Master,' answered the disciple, 'I want to be able to walk on water. I will practice until I'm able to do it. To walk on water -- that is my goal.'
"Years passed and under the gentle guidance of the Guru, most of the disciples accomplished what they had set out to do. Finally, the shy disciple approached the Guru. 'Master,' said he, 'I have toiled and practiced without ceasing, lo, these many years. See that city across the river? I can now walk on the water and go over to the city. Master, I have overcome. I can walk on water.'
"Looking at the young disciple the old master sadly asked, 'Why did you not take the boat? You would have saved so much time.' "
"John, when you know you can walk on water, you generally can take the boat."
Somewhat unclear about the main point of the story, I mumbled an inaudible "Oh," but didn't ask for an explanation. I don't always like to listen to riddles or parables and Gideon certainly had a lot of them. I prefer plain talk. I asked about the people we'd be meeting today.
"I made all the necessary arrangements," he said. "You're expected."
"Are they business associates of yours?"
"Business associates and friends, also."
"Do you think I'll be able to get some help for my company?"
"A definite possibility," he replied.
"You know we need a loan to continue our operations. Maybe they'd be willing to help us out in this situation?"
"Perhaps."
He seemed to be in a quiet, pensive mood this morning, but his clipped answers were beginning to annoy me. Not wanting to appear rude, I gave up any further attempts to make conversation. I was thinking only of myself and my problems, forgetting that he, too, could be occupied with problems of his own. But then again, he shouldn't have any problems, not with the type of information and power he seemed to possess.
He broke into my thoughts saying, "Even God has problems. It's the way one goes about solving them that's interesting."
"God shouldn't have problems, Gideon. I mean, it doesn't make sense. God can do anything."
"True, but even God doesn't like boredom. To exist without challenges would be boredom at its ultimate."
He became quiet again, so I left him to his thoughts for a while. The drive wasn't too unpleasant. Usually, I don't like driving into the Big City. Being there is one thing, but trying to get there is quite another. There are few things more unpleasant than being stuck in traffic for hours.
A flock of gulls had been flying above and to the front of the car since we left the parking lot. To amuse myself, I counted them. There were seven. The freedom of flight, I thought. Gideon broke the silence. "A flock of gulls by day and a pillar of fire by night," he said.
"What?"
"The ancient Israelites, you know, were led in their wanderings in the wilderness by a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night."
"Three cheers for the Israelites," I mumbled, again having no idea of what he was talking about.
In a short while, we arrived in the Big City. It was, as always, impersonal. We parked the car and walked through the never-ending crowds to a waiting cab. Gideon handed the driver an address and a few minutes later we stepped out in front of a tall building on an obscure side street. We walked up to the door, entered the lobby and were soon on our way to the thirty-third floor.
We stepped out into a long hallway. I took a few moments to straighten my tie and comb my hair. At times the winds of the Big City could be exceedingly fierce. At the end of the hallway was a large door bearing a sign that said: "G & M Enterprises, Inc., World Headquarters."