Pearls and Presence, Chapter Six- Desire

Day after day I climb the stairs of the tower to worship and serve at the altar of my favorite idols, and I find myself spending more time there than anywhere else in my vast empire. I prostrate myself before these idols, here in the tallest room of the tallest tower of my empire, and I forget about everything except my worship. This is my favorite time, I live for this and I am always hungry for it. I come empty and leave full, and yet I am never satisfied. I fall to my knees in reverence and bow my head to the floor, arms outstretched and palms turned upwards. My hands are open, ready to receive whatever my idols will give to me. I wait for even the slightest sign of response. I wait for them to love me, to validate me, to give me a purpose and an identity. I worship in expectation. 
I wait for them to give me a new name.

~*~

          Mara rushed to where the neat pile of rocks lay, sand flying up behind her feet as she ran, dress swishing precariously around her legs.  She bent down to pick one up and held it up in the fading light, head tilted and deep in thought as she observed.  Yes, these were definitely the same rocks.  Still clutching the stone, she raised her eyes and looked around her. 

If the tide hadn’t claimed the seaweed, then who or what did?  Curiosity perked her hope once again.  Nobody ever came down to this small alcove, least of all Achor, and the island never had visitors.

This place was always empty. Always.

Mara tossed the rock away from her over a boulder that was resting against a small embankment, and the sound of its clatter over the other pebbles echoed as it rolled.  But the sound stopped suddenly with the sound of wood hitting stone.  When the rock disappeared out of view, she heard it thud loudly against something other than stones.  It hit against something strong and solid, like the trunk of a tree. But there were no trees here, only sand and rocks and shells.

          She hurried over and peered around the rock.  She gasped with surprise.  A small wooden boat sat solid and out of place on the damp sand. She knew the beach like the back of her hand, and this had never been here before.  Instantly she remembered the mysterious shape that had been drifting out on the ocean not so long ago.

She stepped around the boulder and came closer to the boat. 

Draped on one side of it was the clump of seaweed, and the water-soaked wood immediately around it looked the color of blood in the fading light.  An unexplained sense of wonder came upon Mara, and she felt compelled to come closer.  This was the same seaweed that was wrapped around the pearl necklace.  Someone had taken time to untangle it.  Yet where was this person now? And where were the pearls?

          She looked over her shoulder towards the water, scanned the beach, and then squinted through the semi-darkness at the cliffs.  The last ray of sun had sunk into the sea, and the full moon provided pale white light, illuminating the sand and reflecting off the sea spray which collected on the stones.  If whoever had arrived in this boat was still here, it would be impossible to search the entire jetty, especially in such inadequate light. Still…

          Mara knew she should go home now that it was dark. 

Of course Achor would be furious with jealousy if he knew someone else was on the island. She feared what he might do to an uninvited guest and didn’t want to provoke him by walking home so late.  She decided she would leave as soon as she had investigated the mysterious boat.  Mara moved towards it on the cool sand, her dress swishing around her ankles as she took each step.  She stopped directly in front of the boat, and reached out her trembling hand to touch it. 

The wood was worn and coarse, although it looked well-made and sturdily put together, as if done by an expert craftsman.  She drew her hand away, feeling like an intruder, and instead bent down to examine the front of it.

          She saw a strange emblem, pearls resting within a red rose.

          This was inlaid into the center of a faded gold panel running along the top and bottom of the boat, which was otherwise quite plain.  She ran her finger over the small design, intrigued by it.  It was only slightly bigger than her hand, yet it was the most delicately crafted of any design she had ever seen.  Unlike the bare wood, the painted emblem was smooth and soft, and seemed almost warm.  As she continued to run her fingers over the curving, thorn-covered stem of the rose, her eyes were raised up and she stood to look inside the boat. 

          There on the bottom was a tiny wooden chest of the same material as the boat.  It was clean and dry and had an exactly matching rose emblem on its lid.  All she had to do was step into the boat and open the lid to see what was inside. 

Mara hesitated, looked around, and then stepped in and shook the sand off of her feet.  Then, crouching down, she nimbly slid her fingers into the gap at the top of the small wooden box, just above the rose. 

She was filled with wonder as she felt it open with ease.  The trunk lifted up on well-oiled hinges and she set back on her heels there in the hull of the boat to gaze at the contents inside.

All time stood still.

          Mara stared with astonishment. In her heart she felt she was suddenly connected with an old friend, safe to belong and welcomed and loved.

The tiny box was ablaze with light from within, as if a thousand white diamonds had caught the pale moonlight and turned it into a dazzling multitude of tiny rainbows.  The colors caught in her hair and in her eyes, and her face glowed in its light. Her mouth parted and her eyes grew wide with rapture. 

The luminosity blazed out of the boat and shone out into the night sky for several moments, and then faded slowly away like the rays of a sunset. She lost her senses and stood transfixed for several moments, dazzled by the beauty of the treasure before her.

Inside, bright white and flawlessly clean, was the pearl necklace she had been searching for. It had not a single blemish upon it.

Time continued to hold still.

And then, suddenly and without warning Mara’s trance was interrupted with a bang, as the lid of the trunk was slammed down, causing a nearby group of sandpipers to fly off in a screaming flurry of white feathers.  The brilliant light was cut off and only the pale glow of the full moon shone on the beach.

Mara found herself face to face with Achor.

His eyes were inches from her own, deep and intense. The look on his face interrupted Mara’s wonder and startled her out the captivating effect of her discovery. She had forgotten Achor could easily have seen all that bright light shining out from her treasure, and he must have come running.

He had set foot on the sand for the first time since she had known him.

“Sacrifice this to your idols.” It was clearly Achor speaking, but his voice was so changed that she hardly recognized it. There was authority and power in it where there had once been patient reserve.

He was no longer biding his time.

 “Sacrifice this to your idols,” he said again, only slightly more subdued after seeing the way he had startled her. His seductive eyes were glowing in the moonlight and he didn’t even blink as he stared deep into her soul. She felt a vague sense of shame about the look in his eyes, as if he knew something very bad about her.

A seed of selfish willing weakness was planted within her thoughts when he mentioned the idols.

She desired to desire.

His voice was calm, but there was dark influence within it, and it seemed to reach down into every weakness within her that she had ever disclosed. He did not touch the boat, but he leaned in very close, their faces almost touching, and put his hand over her own, which was still on the wooden vessel.

He waited with intensity that she could feel radiating from his entire being. Mara hesitated, remembering as he gazed at her the idol worship from days long past.

She did not dismiss Achor.

She did not rebuke him.

She listened.

She desired to desire.

Conflicted, Mara broke his stare and turned away from him, lifting her eyes up to the dark valley in the distance. Slowly, ever so slowly, she moved her hand out from under his, picked up the small box and held it protectively to her chest.

“I wonder…” She paused and Achor nodded slowly, reading her face with delight. “I wonder if this might make them love me, if I give to them this pearl of great price.” She spoke out loud, hardly knowing her thoughts were audible. “I would be doing something noticeable and admirable by sacrificing such a valuable treasure to them. They will surely care about me after I do this. Certainly I will be counted as one of them after such an offering.” She spoke with a slowly increasing confidence that she did not truly feel in order to hide her uncertainty.

Achor replied, moving back and giving her room to stand. “Yes, Mara, yes, because you deserve this moment. You need to be loved, and this will make them love you.” He had ecstatic urgency in his voice, and it was contagiously compelling.

She completely lowered her defenses, embracing temptation and all its delightful lies.

Seeing her choice was made, Achor jumped up and flew into action. He urged her with every bit of influence he had over her. “Hurry now, to the Valley!”

Before she knew what was happening, Mara was scrambling along the shore, over rocks and up the grassy incline, past her packed dinner and the knife to cut the seaweed, climbing up and up, with Achor fast at her heels urging her onward.

“Why is he in such a hurry?” she wondered fleetingly.

She felt his hand under her arm, urging her forward, and he kept saying “faster, quickly, before it’s too late!” He kept peering greedily over her shoulder at the treasure that was pressed against her heart.

He consumed her cooperation like a power-hungry scavenger.

And they moved together so quickly down the path that it seemed she was transported to Achors’ dwelling place in a matter of mere seconds, as if through sheer willpower.

And in unison they descended into the depths of the gloomy Valley.

Achor presented Mara to the shrine of her idols with such formality and pride, it was almost as if he were announcing a bride at the entrance to her wedding reception.

 Mara took one look at her idols and fell to her knees in reverence, completely at the mercy of her own reaction to them, and placed the little chest hurriedly on the ground. With fearful urgency she removed the necklace in one swift motion. It could not catch the light here, because even the moon did not shine in the Valley.

And in what felt like the ultimate moment of victory, Mara held out the pearls and prostrated herself on her face before the lifeless stones with utter abandon. Mara was thrilled with anticipation that these idols on pedestals might finally come to life and love her at last.

She continued to bow low for an endless eternity with silent reverence before the lifeless stones. Her long hair had come loose and fell down onto the ground all around her.

Achor’s mouth curved into a deadly smile as he watched her from a short distance away. He encouraged her boldly, saying “Yes, Mara, now everything will be different, now you will have everything you desire. And now, finally, this empire will be inhabited.” 

His eyes darkened with the look of a conquering victor about to slay his opponent, and he gazed upwards towards the place where the sky hung far above the Valley.

The stars darkened.

Achor saw and laughed low as if at some great cosmic joke that was about to unfold.

Her submission to desire was almost complete.

The dark night of the soul was about to begin...

~*~

Join me next time for chapter seven! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my personal confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca

Pearls and Presence, Chapter Three- Remnants

In the tallest room of the tallest tower are my precious idols. This is where I spend most of my time in worship. I fashioned these idols carefully so that they would be everything I ever wanted, and I wait for them to love me back. I pick them up and turn them over and over in my hands, trying to make them love me. I press them to my heart and kiss them and speak words of adoration. I serve them, I devote my time and energy to them, I sacrifice my life for them. But it is never enough, and I keep giving more and more and hoping for them to reply. But these idols are made of stone. They are perfect, beautiful, cold, and lifeless. They are also safe, because they cannot hurt me, they cannot walk away from me, they cannot reject or abandon me.  They are on a pedestal, and they are mine.

Who will love me?

~*~

Mara pushed the heavy cart away from the house, over several mounds of sandy, grassy earth to the well-worn stone path, rolling the squeaky, wooden wheels over the rocky path towards the beach.  She moved rather quickly, wanting to avoid the guilt which followed closely behind.  Mara turned back just once to see if Achor had left.

  He was still standing in the same spot looking after her, a satisfied look on his face. Several rejected flower petals were scattered on the ground at his feet, glowing bright white and abandoned against the dark soil. Achor stood there by her vineyard, watching her until she was out of sight. Then he turned and walked silently back to the shadows of the Valley.

Mara looked down at the broken, mangled roses. She felt conflicted. She realized she might not see him for several days now. When he retreated, that was always when her vigor for writing returned to her in full measure. But then, eventually, the absence of Achor would make her lonely and she would run out of things to write, and then like clockwork he would return to her side without a word, somehow already knowing that she was lonely and missed his influence.

Mara was loath to admit that when she sent him away it left a hole in her life. She had come to depend on his attentive presence. At times she was secretly glad for the way his criticism motivated her to attain perfection.

And now she couldn’t shake the haunting truth of the words Achor had said to her before Mara departed. “You mismanage the white roses and make so many mistakes with them.”

The shaming words followed her with every step she took. There was so much truth in his condemnation. Painful truth- the kind that goes unaddressed for many years through denial and avoidance.

That night when she got home, Mara was able to compose many powerful words in her journal, ones which told the story of past hurts and present hopes. Writing was the healing balm for the doubts that Achor had inflicted on her heart.

~*~

A few days later Mara was feeling especially motivated and got an early start towards the beach. It was then that she noticed that more seagulls were in the air than usual. 

She was going to her normal spot to search for breakfast, and brought along her cart in case she found any unusual treasures to carry home. She never knew what the ocean would leave behind on its shores- rare rocks, shells, or driftwood, pieces of lost treasures- delightful relics of ancient stories that she would never know...

…broken and fragmented remnants of the past that had been broken and refined by the intentional and consistent pressure of the rolling sea. 

Bits of worn-out stories that had been made new by a powerfully destructive love.

She pushed her cart across the stony road while avoiding precarious ruts and rocks on the path. On each side of the pathway stood tall seaside grasses which moved with even the slightest breeze.  The trail came close to the shores of the bay, and the familiar smell of seashells and driftwood reached her nose as she came closer to the beach.  A gap between the rolling hills allowed a wide view of the coastline. 

Mara looked out on the water, remembering again the floating object she had seen there several nights ago.  Had it been a whale, or was it indeed a boat?  She found herself slowing down to study the rolling motion of the water, searching for the unexpected.

          As the empty wooden cart bounced over the sandy road, she thought again of the wild and majestic man in white from her dream.  Though she knew it was an empty curiosity, she stared intently in all directions, walking slower to take everything in around her.  What she was looking for, she didn’t know for sure. 

          Forging ahead, she turned away from the tiny path and continued on her way down the hill through uncharted grasses.  As Mara approached the sand, she noticed a group of seagulls suddenly take flight into the air on the opposite side of the beach, squawking loudly in protest.  They flew up from their nesting area, which was blocked from her view by another grassy hill on her left.  The tall dry grass tickled her ankles as she strode down the hill. 

As she came closer to the water, a sudden gust of salty air blew her gold-spun brown hair off her shoulders. With brazen freedom her dress billowed out, molding to her legs in front and trying to take flight behind her.  She put her hand on her head to hold down her over-sized tan sunhat, which she always wore to keep the sun off her face, and pressed her other hand to her heart. Her eyes closed and she paused to honor the current of the air. 

She was a picture of regal repose.

          The ocean stretched out before her so far that she couldn't quite differentiate it from the sky where they kissed on the horizon.  A light mist hovered over the water, the ghost of clouds which had been there in the early morning, before being burned off by the heat of the morning sun.  Several feet below the bluff on which she stood lay the sandy beach, where the waves crashed freely against the shore, unrestrained and powerful.

She felt the familiar longing to dig her toes into the warm sand and just sit idly by, watching the endless ocean stretch out before her.  She wanted to lay there on the sand and simply enjoy her existence within the natural world. She wanted to stand with her hands lifted up to the sky and sing. She wanted to sit and meditate on the vastness of the sea. 

The shore had always been her inspiration for writing, and perhaps, thought Mara, that was just what she needed to find something new to compose.

Glancing up at the sun and shielding her eyes, she saw that she still had time before the day was too warm to forage the shore. So feeling suddenly ambitious, she took off her shoes and abandoned them and the empty cart at the top of the bluff so she could wander freely and unhindered along the beach.  

She jumped down the short, rocky embankment to the sand below, and the sand crunched delightfully under her bare feet where she landed. The pressure of her steps made cracks in the soft dried sand and left a trail of imprints behind her.  She walked across the beach until her toes met the foamy edges of the tide.  

She paused and stood there, breathing in the fresh, salty air and listening to the sounds of the waves breaking on the shore.  She tilted her head back so that her profile was kissed by the bright sunlight.

She closed her eyes, brought her hands together at heart center and raised her soul up to the surface of her awareness, drawing it out into the light. And for a moment she was at peace and all was well. She smiled with deep joy. 

But then, pulled by the weary habit of worn repetition, her mind drifted back to Achor, and her soul receded and her countenance fell.

And then without warning something cold and clinging touched her feet, enveloping them with a groping heaviness.

          Gasping and stepping back, she saw that there, swishing back and forth in the tide, was a large, broken stalk of seaweed. Tangled in its mass of cold tentacles was a discarded string of pearls, bright and shining, peeking out from within.

          “When did this thing get here?” she asked out loud. Curious, Mara reached to pick up a stick of driftwood that lay a few feet away on the sand and used it to drag the massive stalk away from the tide.  It was heavy, a great clump of water-logged kelp leaves, so that she had to drag it very slowly and with much effort. 

When it was on higher ground away from the water, she caught her breath and paused to stare down at the string of white which peeked out from within. It stood in stark contrast to the dark oily green of the plant. Mara slowly got on her knees and bent cautiously over the tangled mess, using the stick to lift some leaves up in order to reveal more of the strange treasure. 

It was radiantly bright, and it was crafted so expertly that Mara couldn’t imagine how human hands could have done it.  Nothing on the island could explain this. She sat back on her heels and stared in wonderment. Her mind raced to understand. She blinked several times in confusion and then continued to poke and prod the entangled necklace this way and that.

She discovered small letters on one of the pearls- Tirzah.

“Tirzah” she read it aloud. She had meant to whisper, but it came out abruptly as a loud and powerful declaration which echoed and bounced back at her off the rocky cliffs. 

And as she spoke the word it was startling and invasive, like a foreign voice that breaks and shatters the total silence.  

The entire flock of gulls on the other side of the beach took off suddenly from their nesting ground, abandoning their young and calling shrilly to one another in excitement. They flew up to land on the cliffs above and settled in to observe Mara from a safe distance, watching her with curious animal eyes to see what she would do next with this mysterious and tangled remnant from the past...

~*~

Join me here next time for chapter four! 

www.persuasiveabundance.com

To go back to the beginning of this story, click here.

To read my public confession of redeeming love, click here.

With deepest gratitude for all my readers- 

Rebecca