Art by Jen Buckley
The desert wind was as hot as the sun itself. Endless stretches of sand banks and clear, blue sky. Pheasant had chosen a new gate, a humble wooden one this time. He found himself in a world and a landscape completely unknown to him.
It seemed really empty, he couldn’t see any trees anywhere. Only sand and sun, heat rising like bubbles from the ground. He sensed there was much more life around him than visible to the eye, but like the winter trees in his home country, the life force had all been drawn IN and now the party took place on the inside instead of the outside. There was still a party going on though.
He really wished little princess could have been here with him today. He felt lonely and out of place. He had started to miss his home as well, his familiar spots, friends and family.
EE-LAA-HIM
EE-LAA-HIM
The wind was singing and even though Pheasant couldn’t recognize the words, he knew the song was about the Heart of Hearts.
A dot on the horizon swelled and became an ant, then a cat and eventually a long-legged, honey-coloured, stunning creature came closer. She looked remarkable.
“My goodness, you are just so pretty. Hello, by the way. I am Pheasant.”
“I am Glenda the Camel and this is my home. Welcome. What is your name?”
“Ehm, Pheasant.”
“That is what you are but what is your name?”
Pheasant fell still. He didn’t even know how to respond to that.
Was he supposed to have a name? Did someone forget to give him a name? He became nervous and lost a few shiny feathers.
“Never mind. I will show you around. So…we are going for quite a walk. I want to ask you not to think too much about the heat. At the same time you need to keep an eye on yourself. And when you feel that you really need to rest because of the heat, the wind and the sun, you let me know.”
The feathers he had lost looked awkward in this setting. They didn’t belong here.
He was tired of learning. Tired of new worlds, of opening his heart.
“I’m sorry.” He looked down. His eyes teared up. “It’s not you. But I’m tired and I want to go home. I just can’t go on anymore. I need rest and I miss the Hawthorne and the dunes.”
Glenda smiled and bent her long neck to give Pheasant a kiss on the head.
“You already know my medicine, little brave one. The rich pot of honey within you can be reached only by rest and contemplation. By actually turning inward for nutrition, for everything you need. Nothing wrong with choosing not to go further in a world. Nothing wrong with choosing rest.”
The singing grew stronger. Pheasant felt himself drifting off without knowing where he would end up now.
Glenda blew sand all around him and he dissolved, fell, slept.
Elahim
Elahim
Lifetree
Heart of Hearts
I am.
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