The New Life: Stage Six Part One For Marie

In late autumn Daniel withdrew completely from his urban world and artistic life. He began living in a two-room cabin in the far North, near the Canadian border. His only visitors were members of The Community who monitored his health and well-being. They brought him food but all he would accept were vegetables and fruits and some breads. He considered milk and coffee necessities. One member, Helena, took a personal interest in Daniel's situation. She was amused at his ascetic lifestyle and his resolute resolve not engage in artistic discussions or even small talk. And when she brought up poetry, he seemed strangely disengaged for a published poet, like a latter-day Rimbaud. It was puzzling because he had a sizable collection of poetry books in the cabin. However, it was Helena's report in person to The Community on Daniel's efforts to master Spirit Flight that alarmed all the members. Helena broke down twice during her report but rallied both times, determined to finish her assignment. This crisis occurred in early February, four months into Daniel's solitary existence in the northern Minnesota wilderness. HELENA'S ACCOUNT He leans back, bending his hips painfully, bending his neck further back with more sharp pain, and from that contorted position he sees a sky-dome formed by blue-gray clouds. The clouds rise from the horizon, hidden by bare branches, and hugging the curve of the sky-dome, they reach a zenith, into which he steadfastly, ecstatically stares, silent but in grievous pain. He sees the wonder of the sky-realm: streaks of pale red, then fiery red, finally bright orange cuts through the clouds, which form an immense burning staircase, stretching from the horizon upward to the zenith, then past that zenith to an impossibly higher one his unblinking eyes can barely reach. Then suddenly the streaks, the vivid colors, vanish until the only red is a pale glow behind the tree cluster, and the blue drained out of the clouds, and he is released from his nightly AGON. He lies on that cold ground, recovering, for some thirty or forty minutes, before he can hobble back to his cabin where he sits upright in a hard wood chair for several hours of meditation. And then, so prepared, he lies on his cot until the Lucid Dreams arrive, and with them what he calls Spirit Flight. DANIEL'S LETTER TO THE COMMUNITY Winter is hard, but not without its cold delights. Everyday it grows older, and goes further from me, leaving behind snow piles blocking the vista, ice-crusted branches that snap and break, the silence of empty fields, and deer and small animals desperate for food. My sympathy for Earth and her creatures grows more keen, it slices through my life like a perfect scimitar. I have no defenses, I want none. I want to feel want and hunger to close the gap between our souls. By spring I want my soul to resemble theirs, no more for me a privileged human soul. That gift I surrender to empathy. The small things bunched inside of me want to ease my pains, make this exile comfortable. Bless them. Their type of being is celebratory: life for them revels in wonders and joys. But mine is otherwise: I live in the place of AGON, and I will not ease that experience until I have mastered Spirit Flight. Only then can I offer my true services to The Community. Monica told me a larger world would be revealed to me. Only now can I begin to appreciate that boundlessness, and the vistas I have seen make my previous work minuscule....