9. The Hand
??:??, Saturday, 27 April
We follow the gently meandering river for a little while. The trees with their sparkling fruits fill the air with a sweet smell as we walk beneath them. I look up wondering what type of fruits these are. They certainly look appealing. A light breeze plays in the leaves of the trees causing them to move as if they are alive. I reach out and touch a smooth silvery trunk and nearly pull my hand away in surprise. The trunk is vaguely warm, but that is not what surprised me, it's the sound. As soon as I touch the tree I hear a soft, whispering song. I can't catch the words, it's as though they are just beyond my understanding, but the music is captivating. When I remove my hand the music stops. Now I am getting more convinced that all is not normal - and I fear it is me.
However Yesh has moved quite far ahead, his face set with determination on some destination. I run to catch up and notice that we are heading towards a small hill where something golden is growing on it. Once again I wonder what I am doing here? The craziness of this whole situation. But my thoughts are arrested by our arrival at the hill.
"Hey, this is grain, isn't it?" I ask, looking around in surprise at the field of glistening white topped golden grain.
"Yes Malo, that's right."
"But isn't it unusual for grain to be growing at this altitude? I mean look at it. I've seen grain on my uncle Herb's farm and it was never this big."
Yesh turns and smiles at me. "Yes, it is unnatural. Totally unnatural." He then bends down and picks up two sickles and some lengths of cord. "Here Malo, come give me a hand," he says handing me a sickle and some cord.
"What am I meant to do with this?" I ask looking at the sharp sickle in my hand. I may be able to paint and draw but I'm not really a farming type. The occasional holidays spent on uncle Herb's farm driving his tractor around don't really qualify me as a farmer. However when I look up Yesh is already swinging his sickle through the tall grain in fluid movements. In no time he has gathered an armful of grain and is tying it in a bundle.
"Got it?" Yesh says turning to face me with a somewhat mischievous smile on his face.
"So you think I can't to this?" I reply. "You think that Malo the city boy can't keep up. Well I might not be a farmer but I am fit."
There is something in me that always makes me want to prove myself, especially if I think people think I can't. And it often gets me in trouble.
"I tell you what,” I say. “Lets see who can get ten bundles done first," I suggest.
"How about twenty bundles?" Yesh replies.
"Oh, you think I will tire?" I reply. "OK let's make it thirty bundles."
"Hmm...I think forty sounds like a more ambitious goal," Yesh responds.
I can now feel my competitive button being pressed, and I know I am getting out of my fitness league. But before I can stop myself I blurt.
"Forget forty. Lets do first to forty five!"
Yesh smiles, that knowing smile, and says, "Sounds good to me. But how about we make it a nice round fifty?"
I know that I have opened my big mouth too often once again, but I can't back down now. I can do this. I will do this.
"You're on. First to fifty, excluding the one you have already done."
Without waiting for a reply, as I don't want any advances on fifty, I grab my sickle and swing it into the tall standing grain. The sharp blade cuts easily through the grain as it gracefully bows down at my feet. A few minutes later I scoop up a big armful of grain. Without letting go of the sickle I quickly loop a piece of cord around the bundle, drop the bundle on the ground and move on. It’s not as hard as I thought. Maybe I do have farmer blood in me after all. Watch out uncle Herb!
I glance at Yesh and he is also just completing his first bundle. Quickly I continue the long scything strokes again in pursuit of my next bundle.
The second bundle is complete.
The third.
The fifth.
The tenth.
Once again I glance around to see where Yesh is and I see he is just behind me. "I must speed up. Come on!" I urge myself.
The twentieth.
The twenty fifth.
I am feeling tired. Can I keep this pace up? Does it matter?
Yes! I am sick of losing out.
The thirtieth.
The fortieth.
I am exhausted now. Sweat streams down my face. My muscles are screaming for a break. Yesh is still just behind me. I can't let him surge and pass me at the end. The story of my life - losing right at the end. I bet that is what his plan is. He's toying with me. He doesn't even look tired. I grip the sickle even tighter as I resolve to try harder.
The forty fifth.
The forty eighth.
The forty ninth.
I glance to my side. Yesh is starting his final bundle too.
"No!" I scream to myself, "No! He is not beating me. No one is beating me." With a steel-like grip on the sickle I swing with all my remaining strength. My muscles are crying out in protest. Sweat is stinging my eyes.
"Fifty!" I scream and pump my sickle wielding hand into the air.
Yesh is still tying his last bundle.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I scream, pumping the sickle into the air each time. "Take that!" A sense of euphoria rushes over me. I can win. I can.
Yesh looks at me and smiles. "Well done Malo. You must be exhausted. Come and relax a while next to the river."
I follow him still clinging tenaciously to my sickle, a symbol of my victory. I drop down wearily next to Yesh on the soft grass.
"Here," Yesh says, "I want to give you something." He draws a small white object out of his pocket and hands it to me.
It's only then that I realize that I am still clinging on to the sickle. I relax my grip and let it drop onto the grass, but to my surprise I am unable to open my hand. It feels like it is frozen in its winning grip. Yesh is leaning forward with his hand open waiting to give me his proffered gift.
"Ow! I can't open my hand," I say wincing with pain.
"Here," Yesh says, "just cool your hand in the water."
I dip my hand in the cool, soft water of the river, and like the tree it seems to fill all my senses. Music and energy courses through me. In moments I am rejuvenated, and my hand relaxes its grip and opens freely.
"Aah," I sigh, "That's better. I think I held onto that sickle a bit too tightly," I say, feeling a little silly about my over zealous effort to win.
"Here you go," Yesh says, and hands me the gift. I open my hand and he places a cool, smooth white stone in it. I hold it up and see that there is a symbol etched on it. It looks like a comma or a tear.
"Thanks," I mumble, not sure what I'm meant to make of it, "for the stone. What's the tear symbol thing?"
Yesh looks at me for a moment, those piercing eyes seeming to probe into my inner being. After a while he says, "Isn't it interesting how you can't receive something when your hand is closed?"
"Um, yeah I guess so," I reply.
"A closed hand can never receive anything," he continues, "but an open hand can always receive."
For a moment I am not sure what he means. I look down at my hands. He must be talking about what just happened. "Yeah, I guess so," I say, not sure of what other intelligent thing to say.
He then reaches behind him and produces the painting - the city scene with the glaring edifice of Pi's building. I thought we left the painting at the table. I really didn't want to see it again. It just reminds me of everything I'm trying to forget at the moment.
He looks at it for a moment, as if considering it, but says nothing. After a while I blurt, "It's a stupid picture. Just toss it."
Yesh looks up at me. He doesn't respond. After a few moments he says, "Do you trust in God with all your heart?"
I am a bit taken aback by his question, as I thought we were considering my painting, not God.
"Um, I think I do," I stammer.
He looks at me.
"Well I suppose not with ALL my heart. I mean, I believe in God, but I just don't know how to trust like that. Dana, that's my wife, well I think she does. She is always saying that God will care for us. I dunno. Maybe it's just me, but I tend to rely on my own brain and energy and stuff."
"Why don't you let go of yourself and let God take over?" Yesh asks.
I think back on my life. School, college, work. I have always relied on me. It's just the way I am wired. And now I am a failure. I meet Yesh's gaze and say, "I just don't know how. I just don't know how."
It seems as if his eyes sparkle, and a smile touches his lips. "It's easy to let go of yourself. Just open your hand." As he says this he opens his hand, and for the first time I notice the scars. Both his hands bear scars. I wonder if they are from the work he does.
"What do you mean, "just open my hand"?"
"There is only one way to let go," Yesh replies, "Open your hand! You asked what the symbol is on the stone. It represents a hand," he says cupping his hand and holding it so I can see its profile. "It is an open hand, like this. This is how you begin your journey to find God."
"What?" I ask, "with a hand? I've heard many religious things but that seems crazy. A journey to find God, if anything needs to start with our head. We need to think things through. Or maybe it can start with your heart…you know, like for those softy types. But I’ve never heard it starting with your hand! I think you've been on this mountain too long."
"What is the most important command of God?" Yesh asks.
I think for a moment. I am no Bible expert, so this is stumping me. Maybe he does not like my good reasoning so he is trying to fluster me.
"Um, I'm not sure," I say, "I think it has something to do with loving God and people, if I recall my Sunday School lessons."
"You have answered right," Yesh says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. All of God's commands hang on this.”
He pauses.
Then he asks, “Tell me Malo, what is love?"
"Wow, that's deep," I joke, but when I see Yesh's intent look I offer an answer. "It's, it's when you like someone. When you like being with them."
"And how do you show your love?" he asks.
"I suppose by spending time with them, doing things for them, giving them things."
"Yes, exactly. Love is giving. God loved the world so much that he GAVE his only son. Look carefully at the symbol. It is an open hand from above. And so, Malo, if the greatest command, to love, is an act of giving, can you see why your journey to God begins with an open hand?"
I look down at the stone in my open hand. I then look up and see the painting. My life. My ambition. My dreams. My plans. My...And then it hits me. It's always been "my". What I wanted to do, to achieve. Even Dana was secondary to what I wanted. She moved when I asked. She cancelled dinner dates when I worked. She soothed when I was stressed. I..I...I. Have I ever opened my hand to give. Have I? Oh Lord help me, I silently cry, no wonder I've lost you, please don't let me lose Dana too.
I feel a warm tear rolling down my cheek. I quickly brush it away and look up. Yesh has gone over to a basket and is taking some bread out of it. But all I can think of is Dana. All I realize is how ungiving I have been. I suddenly wonder how long I've been here. Dana will be worried. The sun still looks high, which is strange as it feels like I've been here a while. I jump up.
"Hey Yesh, thanks for everything, but I better get going. Dana is going to be worried. The thing is I am not sure how to get back as the pass is blocked that I used."
Yesh walks over holding the bread. "No problem, follow me and I'll show you the way." He gets up and walks towards a rock that seems to be standing by itself near the grain field. I quickly follow. "The way back is easy," he continues. However how he says this I get the feeling he means more than my way back to Dana. "Just have faith."
As we reach the rock he breaks the loaf he is carrying in half, and hands me a piece, "Here, some sustenance for your journey. Keep going straight on the narrow path ahead and you will find what you seek."
All of a sudden it is as if scales fall from my eyes. I recognize him. He's Jesus. I’m sure of it!
I'm standing alone staring at an inky black lake with a mountain towering behind me. A slight breeze is playing on the surface of the lake.
However Yesh has moved quite far ahead, his face set with determination on some destination. I run to catch up and notice that we are heading towards a small hill where something golden is growing on it. Once again I wonder what I am doing here? The craziness of this whole situation. But my thoughts are arrested by our arrival at the hill.
"Hey, this is grain, isn't it?" I ask, looking around in surprise at the field of glistening white topped golden grain.
"Yes Malo, that's right."
"But isn't it unusual for grain to be growing at this altitude? I mean look at it. I've seen grain on my uncle Herb's farm and it was never this big."
Yesh turns and smiles at me. "Yes, it is unnatural. Totally unnatural." He then bends down and picks up two sickles and some lengths of cord. "Here Malo, come give me a hand," he says handing me a sickle and some cord.
"What am I meant to do with this?" I ask looking at the sharp sickle in my hand. I may be able to paint and draw but I'm not really a farming type. The occasional holidays spent on uncle Herb's farm driving his tractor around don't really qualify me as a farmer. However when I look up Yesh is already swinging his sickle through the tall grain in fluid movements. In no time he has gathered an armful of grain and is tying it in a bundle.
"Got it?" Yesh says turning to face me with a somewhat mischievous smile on his face.
"So you think I can't to this?" I reply. "You think that Malo the city boy can't keep up. Well I might not be a farmer but I am fit."
There is something in me that always makes me want to prove myself, especially if I think people think I can't. And it often gets me in trouble.
"I tell you what,” I say. “Lets see who can get ten bundles done first," I suggest.
"How about twenty bundles?" Yesh replies.
"Oh, you think I will tire?" I reply. "OK let's make it thirty bundles."
"Hmm...I think forty sounds like a more ambitious goal," Yesh responds.
I can now feel my competitive button being pressed, and I know I am getting out of my fitness league. But before I can stop myself I blurt.
"Forget forty. Lets do first to forty five!"
Yesh smiles, that knowing smile, and says, "Sounds good to me. But how about we make it a nice round fifty?"
I know that I have opened my big mouth too often once again, but I can't back down now. I can do this. I will do this.
"You're on. First to fifty, excluding the one you have already done."
Without waiting for a reply, as I don't want any advances on fifty, I grab my sickle and swing it into the tall standing grain. The sharp blade cuts easily through the grain as it gracefully bows down at my feet. A few minutes later I scoop up a big armful of grain. Without letting go of the sickle I quickly loop a piece of cord around the bundle, drop the bundle on the ground and move on. It’s not as hard as I thought. Maybe I do have farmer blood in me after all. Watch out uncle Herb!
I glance at Yesh and he is also just completing his first bundle. Quickly I continue the long scything strokes again in pursuit of my next bundle.
The second bundle is complete.
The third.
The fifth.
The tenth.
Once again I glance around to see where Yesh is and I see he is just behind me. "I must speed up. Come on!" I urge myself.
The twentieth.
The twenty fifth.
I am feeling tired. Can I keep this pace up? Does it matter?
Yes! I am sick of losing out.
The thirtieth.
The fortieth.
I am exhausted now. Sweat streams down my face. My muscles are screaming for a break. Yesh is still just behind me. I can't let him surge and pass me at the end. The story of my life - losing right at the end. I bet that is what his plan is. He's toying with me. He doesn't even look tired. I grip the sickle even tighter as I resolve to try harder.
The forty fifth.
The forty eighth.
The forty ninth.
I glance to my side. Yesh is starting his final bundle too.
"No!" I scream to myself, "No! He is not beating me. No one is beating me." With a steel-like grip on the sickle I swing with all my remaining strength. My muscles are crying out in protest. Sweat is stinging my eyes.
"Fifty!" I scream and pump my sickle wielding hand into the air.
Yesh is still tying his last bundle.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I scream, pumping the sickle into the air each time. "Take that!" A sense of euphoria rushes over me. I can win. I can.
Yesh looks at me and smiles. "Well done Malo. You must be exhausted. Come and relax a while next to the river."
I follow him still clinging tenaciously to my sickle, a symbol of my victory. I drop down wearily next to Yesh on the soft grass.
"Here," Yesh says, "I want to give you something." He draws a small white object out of his pocket and hands it to me.
It's only then that I realize that I am still clinging on to the sickle. I relax my grip and let it drop onto the grass, but to my surprise I am unable to open my hand. It feels like it is frozen in its winning grip. Yesh is leaning forward with his hand open waiting to give me his proffered gift.
"Ow! I can't open my hand," I say wincing with pain.
"Here," Yesh says, "just cool your hand in the water."
I dip my hand in the cool, soft water of the river, and like the tree it seems to fill all my senses. Music and energy courses through me. In moments I am rejuvenated, and my hand relaxes its grip and opens freely.
"Aah," I sigh, "That's better. I think I held onto that sickle a bit too tightly," I say, feeling a little silly about my over zealous effort to win.
"Here you go," Yesh says, and hands me the gift. I open my hand and he places a cool, smooth white stone in it. I hold it up and see that there is a symbol etched on it. It looks like a comma or a tear.
"Thanks," I mumble, not sure what I'm meant to make of it, "for the stone. What's the tear symbol thing?"
Yesh looks at me for a moment, those piercing eyes seeming to probe into my inner being. After a while he says, "Isn't it interesting how you can't receive something when your hand is closed?"
"Um, yeah I guess so," I reply.
"A closed hand can never receive anything," he continues, "but an open hand can always receive."
For a moment I am not sure what he means. I look down at my hands. He must be talking about what just happened. "Yeah, I guess so," I say, not sure of what other intelligent thing to say.
He then reaches behind him and produces the painting - the city scene with the glaring edifice of Pi's building. I thought we left the painting at the table. I really didn't want to see it again. It just reminds me of everything I'm trying to forget at the moment.
He looks at it for a moment, as if considering it, but says nothing. After a while I blurt, "It's a stupid picture. Just toss it."
Yesh looks up at me. He doesn't respond. After a few moments he says, "Do you trust in God with all your heart?"
I am a bit taken aback by his question, as I thought we were considering my painting, not God.
"Um, I think I do," I stammer.
He looks at me.
"Well I suppose not with ALL my heart. I mean, I believe in God, but I just don't know how to trust like that. Dana, that's my wife, well I think she does. She is always saying that God will care for us. I dunno. Maybe it's just me, but I tend to rely on my own brain and energy and stuff."
"Why don't you let go of yourself and let God take over?" Yesh asks.
I think back on my life. School, college, work. I have always relied on me. It's just the way I am wired. And now I am a failure. I meet Yesh's gaze and say, "I just don't know how. I just don't know how."
It seems as if his eyes sparkle, and a smile touches his lips. "It's easy to let go of yourself. Just open your hand." As he says this he opens his hand, and for the first time I notice the scars. Both his hands bear scars. I wonder if they are from the work he does.
"What do you mean, "just open my hand"?"
"There is only one way to let go," Yesh replies, "Open your hand! You asked what the symbol is on the stone. It represents a hand," he says cupping his hand and holding it so I can see its profile. "It is an open hand, like this. This is how you begin your journey to find God."
"What?" I ask, "with a hand? I've heard many religious things but that seems crazy. A journey to find God, if anything needs to start with our head. We need to think things through. Or maybe it can start with your heart…you know, like for those softy types. But I’ve never heard it starting with your hand! I think you've been on this mountain too long."
"What is the most important command of God?" Yesh asks.
I think for a moment. I am no Bible expert, so this is stumping me. Maybe he does not like my good reasoning so he is trying to fluster me.
"Um, I'm not sure," I say, "I think it has something to do with loving God and people, if I recall my Sunday School lessons."
"You have answered right," Yesh says, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself. All of God's commands hang on this.”
He pauses.
Then he asks, “Tell me Malo, what is love?"
"Wow, that's deep," I joke, but when I see Yesh's intent look I offer an answer. "It's, it's when you like someone. When you like being with them."
"And how do you show your love?" he asks.
"I suppose by spending time with them, doing things for them, giving them things."
"Yes, exactly. Love is giving. God loved the world so much that he GAVE his only son. Look carefully at the symbol. It is an open hand from above. And so, Malo, if the greatest command, to love, is an act of giving, can you see why your journey to God begins with an open hand?"
I look down at the stone in my open hand. I then look up and see the painting. My life. My ambition. My dreams. My plans. My...And then it hits me. It's always been "my". What I wanted to do, to achieve. Even Dana was secondary to what I wanted. She moved when I asked. She cancelled dinner dates when I worked. She soothed when I was stressed. I..I...I. Have I ever opened my hand to give. Have I? Oh Lord help me, I silently cry, no wonder I've lost you, please don't let me lose Dana too.
I feel a warm tear rolling down my cheek. I quickly brush it away and look up. Yesh has gone over to a basket and is taking some bread out of it. But all I can think of is Dana. All I realize is how ungiving I have been. I suddenly wonder how long I've been here. Dana will be worried. The sun still looks high, which is strange as it feels like I've been here a while. I jump up.
"Hey Yesh, thanks for everything, but I better get going. Dana is going to be worried. The thing is I am not sure how to get back as the pass is blocked that I used."
Yesh walks over holding the bread. "No problem, follow me and I'll show you the way." He gets up and walks towards a rock that seems to be standing by itself near the grain field. I quickly follow. "The way back is easy," he continues. However how he says this I get the feeling he means more than my way back to Dana. "Just have faith."
As we reach the rock he breaks the loaf he is carrying in half, and hands me a piece, "Here, some sustenance for your journey. Keep going straight on the narrow path ahead and you will find what you seek."
All of a sudden it is as if scales fall from my eyes. I recognize him. He's Jesus. I’m sure of it!
I'm standing alone staring at an inky black lake with a mountain towering behind me. A slight breeze is playing on the surface of the lake.