Chapter-- 

He put his hand to his mouth and then nodded out toward the street. And on any busy day the poor city would see at least one crazy thing. I turned and looked out to see a distinguished looking man in a suit running down the street and suddenly up on the sidewalk. He was followed by a white VW driven by a woman who veered up on the curb and over, racing down the sidewalk until the man flew himself into a store and the VW went off the curb and bounded down into the street.

"Well you see nutty things that's for sure."

"It's this damn city living. It's not natural and people go off the deep end. Now, what if she had caught up to him and run him over? That would have made a mess of things. And all for what? She wouldn't be able to tell you. She'd sob and sob and scream out a few obsenities and that would be that."

"Maybe she was blaming him for ruining her life. Or, taking something from her."

"I don't know."

After awhile the man emeged from the store and looked carefully out. He looked about sixty with an umbrella under his arm and a book in the other hand. I noticed that his white hair was perfectly parted on the side. His face drew down from its flsuhed state and then he moved up the street as if nothing had happened.

My only real pleasure all during my stay was sitting and listening to the people. They viewed me a man immanently qualified to confess to or express their worldly principles. They were not ignorant or dumb by any means but rather educated and weighed down by the ponderous earth. That was my impression. If they had only let go of the ponderous earth.........

There was one man in particular who haunts me to this day. He is the one I think about and wonder what happened to him. His name was Peter and, after dinner one late afternoon, we walked outside to a wonderful breeze, warm, quiet so that the stream was roaring. I had gotten into a long discussion with Rasputin at table, during dinner. He wanted me to be honest in an assessment of the place and I told him and the others I was very impressed but I wasn't sure how long it could last. "After all, one of these days, some of these people will want to move on. And others will want to change the place. And others will, even, want to be the head honcho." Rasputin laughed, "Anyone who wants to be head honcho can have it right now!" The others laughed and I was amazed at their simple trust and faith in the operation.

After dinner we walked outside and I found myself next to Peter who I had only spoken to several times. We wandered near the fence and looked over at the quick falling dusk that would bring the night. When I looked at Peter he was staring at me with a broad smile. "You see, we are an experiment so whatever feelings you my impress on us are just marks of the laboratory."

I was a bit surprised by this. "Do you really see yourself as an experiment? Just that; just playing out theories of your spirit to see how they mesh or conflict with other experiments?"

He fit his finger under his chin and looked off to the side as though deciding whether I was criticizing him or not. He seemed almost grave. "I'll say this if you let me. And I've thought a great deal about this. People have talked about it but not honestly. They have talked about it incognito, with subterfuge and with various strategies to prevent them from actually admitting the truth."

"And that truth is?"

"We are failures here. Every last one of us has failed in one capacity or another. Don't you find this to be true? And you, too, no matter how you feel yourself to be a stranger here....you too have failed. Otherwise, you wouldn't be with us!"

I was taken back by his statement. I have to admit that the great weight I had felt for some time had to do with failure. I had failed someone but I wasn't sure who. I tried to shift it out of view whenever I could.

I tried to say something positive to him. "What do you mean? You haven't failed. This is the beginning of a great success. This is what I see. Yes. It's a tremendous success that will have its moment of glory.

There was a rock that had, over the years, been rounded and embedded in the soil. Peter sat on it and held his head. "This has all been done before. Over and over again. And it doesn't change anything. There is no change. No stopping the darkness. We are little failures in a massive failure."

I felt a moment of nausea. Peter had stooped down and was picking little daises that grew wildly around the rock. He uprighted himself and looked at me. "Don't believe me. Just look for yourself."

"Can I ask you what you are going to do? If you have judged this project to be a failure what are you going to do?"

"Forget, forget, forget, forget." Peter threw his hand up with a clump of daises between his fingers. "Memory," he said with disgust, "is full of illusion. I want facts. I want the beauty of machines operating at full efficiency. I want to live in a place where the aspects of one's personal existence are more important than the impersonal existence of the world at large."

Peter stood up. He was a bit taller than I. His hair was long and braided into a ponytail. He wore overalls with shiny buttons on either side of his hips. His arms were long, lanky, and hairless like white ash stripped of its bark.

"You see, talking like this destroys everything. I can understand why people don't go to confession any more. It drains the strength from you but you want to do it more and more. Do it once and you must do it forever until nothing is left but a mess of jelly that can be pushed and prodded any way they want."

I did nod at this. I hadn't thought about churches or confessions for 10 years but the man sounded sincere. He had obviously been thinking about this for some time.

"I'll tell you some more things too. Do you want to hear a little theory of mine? That's one good thing about living up here....so much silence that you can think up a hundred different theories."

"Sure, tell me your theory."

"When the church, I mean the Catholic Church, the one I was a member of, against my will, when that church was at the height of power many hundreds of years ago, the merchants and capitalists were just getting started. They were in the shadow of the church. And being not quite in power but feeling their oats they saw that the strength of the people was drained from them by confession. So they conspired with the new science, Galileo, Newton, and these fellows; they conspired to free people from confession and give strength back to the people. For a brief moment there was freedom; a great opening of mind and spirit. But, just as quickly, what strength had been liberated from the church was drained by the new enterprises. Work became the great confession. A confession that we are greedy animals. Do you know what I mean? Do you understand what I'm saying?"

A little. You're talking about the Renaissance period?

The Renaissance! Yes, the Renaissance. And after came the great closing down into a military machine. Do you know what I mean?"

I laughed. "Of course, I'm running from one right now."

No, no. The whole society is a military society. It's all organized around the idea of the military. The society is a vast field of war where the strongest weapons and best strategies win out. Do you know what I mean?"

"No. But your theory interests me so continue."

"I've lost my train of thought now." Peter was sweating in the early evening. He rubbed his white bare arms as though he were cold. "I...I don't know. People have told me I'm paranoid but I know what I'm saying is true. I can see it all the time. Even in the little towns here in the mountains."

"Perhaps you are seeing what you want to see."

Yes, yes. What I'm trying to say is that there is no progress only transformation. It's a theory I had after I read science. There's a theory in science that says there is no progress only change. That's a subtle idea humm? You see, then, there's no progress from the freedom people have struggled for; there's only change from one form to another. What freedom is won over here, is lost over there. Do you see what I mean?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe you're right. Can you put your theory a bit closer, a bit clearer and simpler?"

"Oh, I never thought I was going to talk about these things so it comes spewing out like nonsense but before you leave I will make it concise for you. That's a promise."

I smiled at him. "I look forward to that. Before I leave we'll sit down with some wine and talk about this theory of yours."

He moved away from me, toward the gate and move slowly down the incline path to the creek. As I watched him I wondered why I didn't get more history from him; his own history and what had brought him to the mountains.

David Eide
January 24, 2014