PATH 32 ON THE TREE OF LIFE

Pounding Stone near Friant-Kern Canal

CHAPTER TWO:  THE WORLD

     Peter was painting a picture of a figure eight when Chuck walked into the bedroom without knocking.
     "What the hell kind of crap is that?" Chuck scoffed.
     "It’s the mathematical symbol of infinity."
     "Oh, that’s what it is.  I thought you were just painting like a monkey," Chuck laughed, scratching his ribcage.  "Why DO you paint, anyway?"
     "Because I’m trying to develop myself emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, but you probably wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?"
     "Oh, C’mon, everyone knows why you paint."
     "Why’s that?"
     "Because you’re ‘different,’" Chuck made quotation marks with his fingers.
     "What are you trying to say?"
     "You’re gay, obviously."
     "That’s it.  Get out of my room!"
     "Make me.  It’s my room too, jerk off."
     Peter lunged at Chuck, who easily shoved him to the ground.
     "Why don’t you develop yourself physically, for a change, so you’re not such a little girl?  Act like a man instead of a sissy, and stop painting this stupid shit.  Everybody thinks you’re gay, and they’re starting to wonder if I’m queer, too, because a’ you."  Chuck held up a threatening fist.
     Peter looked up with tears in his eyes.  He darted out of the room, got on his bike and took off, pedaling furiously.  Since it was Saturday and he had finished his chores, he headed east toward the foothills.  Even though he felt tired most of the time, occasionally when he was on his bicycle, he could forget about his illness and pedal for miles.  Now he was determined to keep going as far as he could, possibly never turning back.
     At about two o’clock, he reached the end of the grid, where the road suddenly veers northeast and curves gently into the lower foothills.  He crossed the Friant-Kern canal, which contains the water of the San Joaquin River flowing south now instead of west in its natural course, and then he stopped, watching the swallows loop above the water, in figure eights, he imagined.  He took a slug of water and chewed awhile on a granola bar.  He had a package of energy bars in his backpack that might last him a couple of days.
     About a hundred yards from the canal, Peter noticed several large, flat stones that contained circles from which grass was growing.  He got off of his bike and rolled under the barbed wire.  He found a Native American village site next to the road on a slight rise above a narrow stream that emptied into a marsh next to the canal.  Imagining that he was a Native American standing by the pounding stone, he gazed a long time at an egret, a white question mark reflected in the shallow water, while he listened to faint, tranquil buzzes and chirping noises.  He crossed the road and climbed to the top of the rise where he found two more pounding stones.  Whoever had made the road had just plowed right through the village site, probably removing pounding stones and destroying house pits which were also graves.

Pestles in a Pounding Stone

     Peter had written a report about the Yokuts people after he had found several village sites one day, complete with pounding stones, pestles and house pits, while he and his father and brother were looking for a fishing hole on private property.  The creek was too small for decent fishing, so they wandered around the trails in the area, scaring the cattle.  Peter was the first to notice something unusual about the ridge.  The earth was more disturbed, less even.  Then he noticed the holes like cups in the stone and faint paths that led to indentations in the ground.  They all followed a path and found another village site.  His dad sneered, "This is what happens to you when you’re weak."
     It was almost three o’clock.  Peter soon pedaled to a more wooded area, where hiding from passing cars would be easier.  Deciding that he should try riding his mountain bike on the trail, Peter heaved his bike over sagging barbed wire and then rolled under.  The main paths in the area were smooth and easy to travel.  Every now and then, however, he would encounter a rock or a branch or an incline that would force him to get off of the bike and walk.  Following the trail along the ridge for half a mile, he finally curved down toward the floodplain of the creek.   Between two small hills, he found a pounding stone with eleven pestles on top.  He got off of the bike and rested in the shade.  The sun was beginning to sink toward the western horizon.  He was getting very close to the moment when he would have to decide whether or not to go home.

Path32

     He took out his pack of Tarot cards and decided to examine the last one, THE WORLD.  In the center of the card, a naked woman floated in what appeared to be a large mirror fringed with leaves of some kind.  At the top and bottom of the mirror, a red ribbon twisted into a figure eight seemed to be holding the victory wreath together.  In each corner of the card was a head: in the upper left corner the head of a man, in the upper right an eagle, in the lower left an ox, and in the lower right a lion.  The previous night he had read that they represented the four elements of Air, Water, Earth, and Fire respectively.  He had read also that card twenty-one, THE WORLD, represented the thirty second path--the path between the material world and the lower astral plane.
     Peter closed his eyes and cleared his mind.  The woman floating in the mirror might represent the soul in the center of the elements, spirit manifested in matter.  Since the body is floating, however, Peter thought, perhaps it represents the soul detached from matter, a ghost floating in another dimension, on a different plane.  She appeared to be ascending; perhaps the soul can only ascend if it has mastered existence--if, totally centered, it has mastered the physical, emotional, mental and spiritual aspects of life.
     Peter began to wonder how he could possibly master all those aspects of existence.  Only the material plane seemed reflected in his life, or perhaps it was the other way around--his life only reflected the material plane.  The only things that connected him with those other levels were art and meditation and now the Tarot cards.  Peter looked around at the pounding stone, where the pestles seemed to have been abandoned only yesterday, then at the one strand of barbed wire still linking the leaning fence posts, then at the smog obscuring the creek in the distance, the earth tranquil and quiet.
    Maybe Cashing could help him understand it.  Peter got back on his bicycle and pedaled home, making it just in time for bed.

THE GRAY FIGURE EIGHT

Posse

CHAPTER ONE:  THE LEMNISCATE

   Peter paused before the punished door of the apartment. His mom was vacuuming while his brother was watching the tube. Where was his dad, though? Peter listened a few more seconds. When he peeked through the door, his mother was vacuuming with her back to the living room, so Peter tiptoed toward the bedroom, his older brother mesmerized by the TV. Peter caught a glimpse of his dad lounging on the back porch, a beer can next to his chair, the aroma of grilled hot dogs and hamburgers wafting through the screen door.
   Peter slipped into the bedroom and closed the door as quietly as he could. Then he dropped his backpack on the floor, stretched out on his bed and emptied his mind. The day before, after meditating for over an hour, he had envisioned a gray figure eight on its side floating above his head. He had seen it and the wall and ceiling so clearly that for a second he thought he might have opened his eyes without realizing it. So he blinked, and the figure eight disappeared. Now, the dull roar of the vacuum and the jabbering of the TV destroyed Peter’s ability to slip totally into the void.
   Then Peter heard his mother and brother talking. A few seconds later, his mother peered into the bedroom.
   "Why don’t you come out here and make yourself useful?" she asked.
   "Why don’t you have Chuck help you? He’s just watching TV," Peter moaned.
   "At least he’s doing something. You’re just being a lazy bum. C’mon, get out of bed and help me with dinner. I need something from the store. Why don’t you ride your bike over to SAFEWAY and get a bag of salad and some ice cream?"
   On his way to the grocery store, Peter stopped in front of a hole-in-the-wall bookstore called THE GOLDEN CHALICE. He immediately glimpsed a pack of Tarot cards in the store window and suddenly felt the urge to check out the store; when he got inside, he noticed his neighbor reading a book.
   "Hey, Mr. Cashing, how ya’ doin’?" Peter blurted out. Since Peter was normally shy, his sudden friendliness surprised both himself and Cashing.
   "Just great, thanks. How ‘bout yourself?" Before Peter could answer, Cashing glanced at Peter and smiled, "Well, I didn’t know you were interested in esoteric philosophy."
   "I didn’t either. I’m just on my way to the grocery store, and I noticed that pack of cards," Peter pointed at the store window.
   "So you want to tell the future, eh?" Cashing laughed in an amused, slightly ironic tone.
   "Sure, why not! Is that really what they’re for?"
   "That, and much, much more, from what I understand," Cashing replied.
   "Maybe you can help me pick out a good deck," Peter blurted out.
   "Here’s a good one, and it’s used, so it’s half price. Only ten dollars. Better check it to make sure you’ll be playing with a full deck." Cashing opened it and looked carefully at the cards.
   Peter appeared nonplussed. "Ten dollars. Wow, that’s a lot. I only have five. Darn it."
   "Don’t give up so easily. Give me your five and wait here. Let’s see if we can make a deal." Cashing ambled over to the register, unobtrusively slipping out his wallet. He pointed at Peter and laughed. The cashier put the deck in a paper sack. Cashing walked over and gave the bag to Peter.
   "Wow, you got it. How’d ya’ manage that?"
   "I’ve got friends in all the right places," Cashing laughed.
   "Wow, really, I owe you one. Maybe you could show me how to play these cards sometime. I got to go now, though. Thanks again!"
   "Don’t mention it, really," Cashing replied quizzically. "Have a good evening."

Path 12

   After dinner, Peter took a look at the cards. To his great surprise, a figure eight on its side floated above the head of a man in a card called THE MAGICIAN and above the head of a woman in a card called STRENGTH.
   It was exactly like the figure eight Peter had seen in his vision during meditation two days before. Peter could not believe his eyes. He stared at both cards a long time. "I’ve got to ask Cashing about this," he murmured to himself.
   The next day after school, Peter made a bee-line to Cashing’s apartment and hammered on the door.
   "Well, hello again," Cashing said.
   "Yeah, well, I wanted to thank you again and ask you a couple of questions, if this is a good time."
   "Sure. Come in. Come in."
   Peter stepped into a dim room. As his eyes adjusted, he could tell that Cashing made minimal effort to keep his apartment tidy.
   "Please, don’t mind the mess. Come in and sit down. Now what can I do for you?"
   Peter sat on a dingy couch. "Well, you know those cards I bought--we bought--yesterday? I was hoping you could tell me a little bit about them."
   "Sure, I suspected that you might have questions. Fire away."
   Peter pulled out the pack. On top were the two cards that contained the gray figure eight.    "I was hoping you could tell me what these are."
   "Why, they’re called lemniscates. The lemniscate is the mathematical symbol of infinity. They are floating above the heads of these figures to suggest an awareness of the infinitude within. In other words, they recognize that they are eternal, spiritual beings."
   Peter stared speechless at the cards, then at Cashing.
   "Is something wrong?" Cashing asked.
   Peter hesitated. "Well, I’m not sure I should say this, but...ah, but I was meditating a couple of days ago, and I saw the same symbol floating above my head. It was gray too and everything."
   Now Cashing looked surprised. "You had a vision of a

lemniscate?" Cashing whispered.

Path 19

   "Yeah, I guess. You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?"
   "Oh, no, on the contrary. Tell me more about it. You can’t be more than sixteen. What made you start meditating?"
   "Fifteen, actually. Well, you see, I need to rest a lot. I have this problem, food allergies. Anyway, I lie down a lot even though my parents think I should always be doing something. So I got this book on meditation because I guess I wanted to look like I was doing something when I was just lying around. Anyway, it said that a person should mentally cleanse the chakras, which are energy centers in the aura. So I did. I imagined each chakra as a turning margarita glass. Then I wiped out each one mentally with a white cloth. When I was finished, I started having visions."
   Cashing tried not to look startled. "What kind of visions?" Cashing asked.
   "You really don’t think I’m crazy?" Peter paused. Cashing shook his head. He too had experienced visions during meditation, but he didn't want to mention it just yet. Peter continued, "Well, when I was done clearing the trash out of my crown chakra, which took hours, I had a vision of a pure white, four-petaled flower, which suddenly blossomed into a brilliant white flower with lots and lots of petals. I thought it was a rose, but then I kept hearing the word ‘lotus’ in my head. I did some research the next day on the internet and discovered that the thousand-petaled lotus is associated with the crown chakra."
   "My God. Have you told anyone else?" Cashing asked.
   "I told my family at dinner, and they just kinda’ looked at me strange. My brother called me gay for the thousandth time."
   "He’s probably just jealous. Typical sibling rivalry," Cashing replied.
   "Yeah, well, he likes to beat me up. I don’t know how typical that is."
   "Sometimes older brothers just like to beat up younger brothers. All I can say is try not to let him discourage you. This is truly remarkable. It's one of those things that force people to entertain the possibility that there is something beyond the physical realm."
   "What is so strange about this, I mean the figure eight, is that I saw it in my vision several days before I actually saw it in the cards. How do you explain that?"
   "I’m no expert, but I’ll tell you what I think. The mind, during meditation, sometimes slips into a timeless state and can see basic patterns, or archetypes. Then, through what some call synchronicity and others call coincidence, the inner vision or mental state is sometimes reflected in the physical world. Most people automatically believe that what one thinks is the result of what one experiences in the physical world. Others would say that what we feel and think ultimately manifests in the material realm, which is basically a reflection of our inner state. Others say that the mind and the physical realm, the self and the nonself, form a combined reality reflecting each other."
   Peter looked puzzled.
   "Okay, maybe I’m not explaining this very well. Let me try again," Cashing paused. "Imagine that there are different dimensions of reality. There is the physical dimension that we all know and love. But imagine that there are other dimensions that we can’t perceive with our senses. Some people believe that there are at least three other planes behind physical existence. Behind the physical is the foundation of all physical manifestation, known as the astral plane. Behind the astral is the archetypal world, which contains the basic patterns for all the forms in existence. And behind the archetypal plane is the spiritual plane. The spiritual ‘world,’ so to speak, generates the basic ideas, which manifest as archetypes, which then manifest as diverse forms on the astral plane, which ultimately manifest in the physical realm as the physical objects and events that we perceive with the five senses. Are you following me so far?"
   "Is this the asoteric philosophy you were talking about yesterday?" Peter asked.
   "Esoteric, yes." Cashing smiled. "Esoteric means 'for the few' and is often associated with the word 'occult,' which means ‘hidden.’"
   "So these ideas are hidden from the average person?"
   "Exactly," Cashing replied. "I think most people would agree that there are at least four dimensions to our being. Even college professors, I think, would agree that we are physical, emotional, and mental beings. Our esoteric philosopher friends would say that there is also a spiritual dimension which sometimes intrudes in strange ways upon our sense of reality. Look at it this way. You’re an artist, right?"
   Peter nodded.
   "When you create, you usually start with a basic inspiration, right? Then you create some kind of basic pattern, which as you develop your ideas usually turns into a more complex, concrete idea, which ultimately manifests as an image on the canvas, right?"
   "Yeah," Peter replied.
   "Well, according to our friends, God works pretty much the same way, except his canvas is the world, or more precisely, the cosmos. According to our esoteric friends, we use the same process because we are made in God’s image."
   "So I’m seeing basic patterns--what did you call them, arc of something...?"
   "Archetypes. I believe you might somehow be tapping into the archetypal energy of the cosmos, possibly because as an artist you have developed your inner vision," Cashing paused. "Another explanation is that the archetypes are part of the collective subconscious, and we can access them through our own subconscious, the way one might find a channel from a lagoon out to the ocean. In any event, what you have experienced is a kind of synchronicity which cannot easily be explained or explained away. But by all means don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re crazy when you have visions. It’s really a gift, a very special gift."
   "I doubt anyone else would think so. What do you think I should do?" Peter asked.
   "Like I said, I’m no expert. I think, though, that you should continue working with the Tarot cards since something or someone appears to have pointed you in that direction. Here, I'll let you play a game that I made myself called Paths and Thrones. It will help you learn the cards. Memorize them, visualize them, meditate on them. They are rich in symbolism, in archetypal energy, so to speak. Come back and tell me what you think, if you feel like it. I would be very interested in hearing what you have to say."
   "Thank you," Peter said as he was leaving, sincerely grateful. "I’ll tell you everything--if anything happens."