The Journal Of A Still Small Voice

“Acquaintances.”

“We have to sort some things out with you first,” the Still Small Voice continued. “We’ll get to the homestead in a bit. Turn right, go through the arch and follow the hall. Open the last door you come to, it will be the chapel.”

I turned on my heel and started down the hallway. There were doors on my left and windows on my right. I counted as I went. One door, two windows, two doors, four windows, and so on. Finally I came to a large door, as large as the arch on the other end of the hall, and finding it ajar I pushed it open.

The chapel was nice; simple, but nice. The ceiling, like in the foyer, stretched up two stories and followed the roof to a peak. Six great, wooden beams supported the roof and two more ran from one end of the hall to the other, supporting four chandeliers. These were entwined with vines that came in through the roof and shed light on the whole room. The pews lined up before me and faced me.

Beside me was thick wooden table. It was really more of a slab of tree supported by four big stumps. The wall behind this was beautifully decorated with carvings, but beyond this there were no markings on the wall; just tall windows stretching both stories at even intervals. I stepped forward, hearing my footfall echo against the back wall.

“Welcome to the chapel,” I heard above me. I looked up to see Luath, my Ionat sitting on one of the beams in the ceiling. He twitched his tail.

“What goes on here?” I asked.

“Well, it hasn’t been used much lately. Quite frankly, you haven’t been around too often.”

“But, what is this place. How could I not have been around if I don’t know where I am?”

“You.”

Me?”

“Yes.”

“This is getting a little ridiculous.”

The cat stood on the beam, arched its back in a stretch and jumped to the ground, springing off a beam on the way down.

“This house is your heart. These rooms are your thoughts and how you connect with things and people around you. This chapel is Meon’s canvas. He paints here, just for you. He paints the world. He paints the universe. Here in your heart, he draws out his ideas. This is the chapel.”

I looked around. “It’s very simple.”

“You are young.” The Ionat said, turning and weaving through the pews. “The plans are simple.”

I looked back at the animal. “Mine or Meon’s?”

“Come, I must show you the rest of the house before you must go.” He said, avoiding my question.

The cat walked past me and through the doors I had just come through. I turned around to follow but something caught my eye. There were words carved in the side of the wooden table. I walked over.

“It is finished,” I read.

“Come along!” I heard on the other side of the door. I followed the voice, still staring at the words on the table.

Pushing through the door I walked down the hallway I had come through before. Luath was ahead of me.

“What are these rooms?” I asked.

“They are offices,” Luath replied, not looking back. He had almost reached the foyer. “Friends of yours who are investing in you, teaching you, guiding you.”

Suddenly a door opened ahead of me. A Tÿr walked out, put down a couple suitcases he was holding and closed the door behind him. He was a dear old friend of mine, someone who had taught me many things, who had brought me a long way.

“Are you leaving?” I asked.

“Ah Fâyth,” He responded, looking up. “I had hoped to see you. Yes, I have to unfortunately leave this grand home of yours. I have enjoyed our time together immensely, but I feel you must go your own way and I go mine.”

“But why?” I asked. It was much too sudden.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, it’s just the way things work. We grow up, and out. I have a calling elsewhere where you can’t follow. I pray that, in time, you will find your own.”

I suddenly stood alone. There was no one there. I sniffed back tears. I remembered that instance in my life. It was a year since my old friends started going their separate ways. They were all mentors, they all occupied an office here, now most have left. Dusty. This house was dusty because it was almost vacant.

I shook my head and looked down the hall. Luath was sitting in the foyer staring at me. He got up and walked out of view past the stairs. I quickly trotted after him. Reaching the foyer I turned right, walked past the stairs and opened the door there.

I found myself suddenly in a living room filled with Tÿrren. The alchas was dazzling, I had to step back a bit. No one noticed me enter. I stepped forward, pushing through a group conversing at the door. There were groups here and there, talking of distant subjects. Alchas streamed between each member of the groups, binding them together. Some were drinking beverages, others were eating snacks, some sitting, some standing. Looking over the shoulder of the Tÿr next to me I could see the food looked delicious, except in rather small portions.

I walked through the throng, confused at the sudden change of surroundings. A door opened on the opposite corner of the room, revealing a scruffy individual carrying a tray of more delicacies. I made my way over to him. He set his tray down, nodded to a group close by and went back through the door. I followed.

Closing the door behind me, I found the next room was a kitchen, though it looked like more of a store room. Two other doors exited the room, one to my right, and one in the opposite corner that had a window that looked outside. There was a great stone fire place on the wall opposite me, a window to the right of it, opposite the door. In it was one big fire with a large pot over it and little piles of coals to one side with other pots and pans over them. The smell was amazing. A big table was in the centre of the room with various tools on it. Two strings laden with herbs were hung over it. A larder was on one side of the fireplace; so full it couldn’t close. More tools hung on the wall beside me. Another fire contained by stones was to my left with different kinds of meat hanging above it at various heights. Sacks of grain and rice were beside the larder. Logs were piled up against a wall. Everything was spotless. It was fantastic. So much so I didn’t see Luath sitting beside the man I had followed in.

“This house is strange,” I said finally.

“You’re strange,” the cat said.

I looked down at him, frowning and shaking my head. “You’re the strange one…”

“If you were wondering about the room you were just in, it is welcome to anyone and everyone you meet. It is your acquaintance room, filled with people you’ve met or run into recently. Perhaps you had a good talk, or exchanged personal likenesses.”

“I thought some of them looked familiar. How come no one noticed me?”

“And this is the kitchen, but you probably already figured that out.”

“Why are you avoiding my questions?” I asked, throwing my hands up.

“This is where you keep your knowledge,” Luath continued. “Your knowledge is what people taste when they meet you in that room.” He nodded to the door behind me.

I looked around the room again. There was a lot of food. Did I really have all this knowledge?

“I saw the food, it looked delicious,” I said, pointing my thumb over my shoulder. “Why were the portions so small?”

“Your questions will be answered in time,” the scruffy Tÿr said, looking up. I finally noticed him. He was cutting up vegetables and herbs on the table. He had a ruddy complexion. His hair was curly, tangled and red, and a stubble of a beard framed his chin. His clothes were simple but well made; Long sleeved shirt rolled up his forearms, capris, and an apron.

“Oh yes, you’ve met this man before,” Luath said. “He looked a little different.”

The Tÿr laughed. “Much different. My name is Íosa.”

“Should I know you?” I asked.

“You will,” He replied.

I threw my hands in the air again and walked over to a chair by the table.

“This is all very interesting,” I said, sitting down, “I suppose I’ll just go along with it.”

“Good,” the Ionat said. He stood and walked through another door beside him. “This way.”

“I just sat down!”

Íosa chuckled and took off his apron. “You’d better follow him, he has orders.”

I nodded grimly and rested my elbows on my knees. “I just wanted to sit down and talk.”

“Me too,” replied Íosa. “But this is for the best.”

I heard a hint of sadness in his voice. I looked up and saw him leaning against the frame of the door that led outside. I saw concern and genuine empathy in his eyes. Big brown eyes. His pupils dilated and he looked away quickly, shoving out the door. I stood up and saw the door close behind him. Walking over to it I looked out. The forest thinned out at the back of the house. The portico and porch was wider as well. The ground fell away a stone’s throw from the porch revealing a ravine and the wooded hills of Meona. A path wound its way through the trees. Íosa was no where to be seen, all I noticed was a golden figure running along the path away from the house. It was a lion.

“The Great Lion?” I asked, astonished. “Íosa?”

“Coming?” I heard coming from the door that Luath had gone through. I turned and walked across the kitchen, picking up a couple of apples off the table as I passed. I pushed through the door, munching on one, still very confused.

The next room was a dinning room. One table stretched the room, seating about ten. It was fairly simple, mostly dark colours and lots of windows looking over the ravine. A door was in the wall to my right, and judging by where it was, it guessed it went back into the living room. Plenty of carpets on the floor and hanging on the walls. I could only take in so much before a Tÿress that was sitting alone at the table stood up to greet me. She looked familiar.

“Fâyth,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping in. I just need some help with this thing ahead of me.”

“What thing?” I asked, motioning her to sit down. I walked over and sat across from her.

“I’m feeling really run down, like I’m not going anywhere,” she continued. “There’s a test coming up. I haven’t been able to focus at all.”

“Why do you think Meon gave you the test if you’re so exhausted?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I’m wondering that myself.”

“Maybe he wants you to learn from the journey, not the end result?”

She looked at me and nodded.

“I mean, Meon would never set you up to fail,” I continued, remembering my own past tests. “Think about where you were when you started to feel this way. See how far you’ve come. It’s all about the journey.”

“Yes,” the Tÿress responded. “Yes, that’s right. I have to keep focussed on the journey, not the test.”

I rolled the other apple I had across the table. She caught it and looked up at me.

“Something to munch on,” I added.

She thanked me and walked out the door into the living room.

“That was close,” I heard behind me. I looked around to see Luath coming out from behind a rug. “She came in right after me. I figured I stay out of sight, some Tÿrren don’t like house pets.”

“Well, you’re not exactly a little kitty are you?” I asked, standing up.

“I have my moments.”

“Not with those fangs.”

“I do tend to rip things apart sometimes don’t I?”

“And put them back together painfully slow,” I rolled my eyes.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve figured out what this room it,” Luath continued.

“A place to eat?” I asked.

“Your food.”

“Which is?”

“Which is…”

“My knowledge?”

“We’re on our way,” The Ionat chuckled. “Let’s get back out through that throng of people in your living room and head upstairs.”

“The Homestead.”

We walked for quite a while before we stopped and set up the arbour again. Again, Theoir led us into the thickest part of the woods where we would be protected while we rested. I threw down my heather mattress and cloak and began unpacking the bundle I was carrying.

A sudden pain shot through my core. I gasped and stood straight. It disappeared just a suddenly as it has come. I stretched, shrugged and continued with my work. Feeling a hand on my shoulder I looked up. It was Theoir.

“You have to come with me for this next step,” He said calmly. I nodded and, drawing my cloak around my neck, followed him away from the group.

Farther and farther we went. The bushes were so thick I could barely see the form of Theoir in front of me. I heard something behind me and I turned to find Fionsâ following us. I lost all sense of direction.

“What is this?” I asked. “Where are we going?”

“Meon wants to dig a little deeper than what you might like,” Fionsâ responded. “It won’t feel nice, but that’s why we’re here. We are leading you to a place where you can go back in your thoughts and find where you were wounded.”

I continued to follow Theoir. The despair came back as I had it before. I didn’t know if I could do what Meon wanted.

“Courage,” Fionsâ whispered.

“Courage,” the Still Small Voice echoed.

Suddenly, we were in a large clearing, and before us was a great homestead. It sat among the forest as if it had grown up with it. It’s turrets rose above the highest tree tops and the two wings on either side extended into the thick bramble we had emerged from. Trees grew around, through and inside its courtyards and rooms. A stately garden was out front, protected by a low, gated fence, and a path running through it, leading to the front door. Pillars supported a poritco that wrapped around the front and left wing of the house. The right wing led to a great stone bastion. Vines covered the walls and flowed into the windows. It was breathtaking.

Theoir started walking toward the gate to the garden and Fionsâ linked my arm in hers, following her husband. I stumbled beside my sister, staring wide-eyed at the beautiful garden. It was perfectly manicured. Everything was healthy and strong. Theoir walked up onto the porch under the portico and reaching up, pulled on a rope hanging by the front door. A low bell sounded above us. Fionsâ and Theoir turned to me.

“We have to leave you now, our job is just what we’ve done,” Theoir said. “When the door opens, enter and follow the voice. You’re in good hands.”

Fionsâ squeezed my arm and taking Theoir’s hand in hers walked back through the garden with him. When I lost sight of them in the bramble I turned back to the door. To my surprise it had already opened. I pushed the great plank of wood aside and stepped into the homestead.

There were no lights inside. The rooms were lit by the trees and vines that had grown through the windows and up through the floors. It did not look overgrown though, perhaps a tad dusty. Everything was right where it should be. The door closed behind me on its own. A great staircase loomed straight in front of me. Arches on my left and right led to more hallways and rooms, continuing on to the two wings on either side. Two more arches on either side of the stair case led to the back of the manor. The ceiling went up two storeys and on either side, connecting to the top of the stairs, was a walkway contained by a railing running around the foyer where I stood.

“Welcome,” the Still Small Voice whispered. There was a pause as I found my words.

“Hi,” I said finally, scarce above a whisper.

The great house shook. It heaved back and forth. The alchas throbbed in rhythm. Was it laughing? It seemed so.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“You,” I heard.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

I was confused, yet again.

“Abundantly.”

I woke up gradually. Feeling quite comfortable wrapped up in furs on the heather, it took a while for me to open my eyes.

“I’ve been sleeping more than what’s good for me,” I thought.

Finally waking myself thoroughly I opened my eyes and looked around. I was in amongst a sort of sleeping area. There was an arbour over what seemed around a dozen beds. A little ways off there was a group sitting around Fionsâ and Theoir. Seeing that there were others asleep around me I carefully took up my cloak and made my way over to the group.

They were teaching, so I folded up my cloak and sat down on it amongst the circle.

“New things bring life,” Theoir was speaking. “The life Meon wants you to live is not just to do your tasks at hand, asking him for your needs, and live in monotony. His wish is to give us life, and life to the fullest. To the fullest! Anyone can do the bare minimum, this is the least we can do for ourselves and for Meon, but it leads to settlement very easily. What you do over and above the bare minimum brings direction.”

I looked at my own life. Only recently have I realised that this is all I had been doing; the bare minimum. I wanted to stay comfortable in my walk with Meon. The problem was it wasn’t a walk at all. I would become settled far too quickly and loose contact with Meon and my alter ego.

“What we want to talk to you about is your identity and destiny.” Fionsâ continued. “I want to to ask of yourself, ‘who am I?’”

I immediately thought about all the truths that had been spoken over me. I am a son, an artist, smart, helpful, a leader. But my thoughts soon turned away from these, being confused between these good things and the lies that I really was. You get by, you’re not able to commit, you’re distracted, you’re constrained. My heart sank. Where am I going?

“Well then,” Theoir said suddenly, “shall we keep on settling so that Meon can keep on showing us more and more kindness and forgiveness, urging us to continue? Of course not! Should we keep on doing evil when we don’t have to? Olcas’ power over us was broken when we became a part of Meon’s self.”

“It’s not about laying it out perfectly,” Fionsâ said, “It’s about living out abundantly.”

I gazed at the ground. These were the words I’ve been wanting to hear. It confirmed everything that was happening within me. The last time I had heard this I was wounded and resentful, and I shut it out, or so I thought. Meon had ways of speaking things into our lives.

“I think we should move on,” Theoir said. “But I want each of you to meditate on what we’ve said. This is between you and Meon. Strike the arbour, pick up your things, and we’ll be on our way.”

I stood with everyone else and walked back to the arbour. I helped the others take it down and fold it into bundles. I fastened my cloak around my shoulders, rolled up my bed and, taking it and a bundle of the arbour, walked with the others toward our next destination.

I walked slowly, my spirit still numb from being so long in the cesspit. I thought about what had been said. All of it was confirmation. I felt like it was everything I wanted to hear. But there was a yearning for more. This wasn’t enough. Repetitive, that’s what it was.

“Why am I here?” I asked.

“Why? Where do you want to be?” the Still Small Voice responded.

The answer took me by surprise. I didn’t know. I suppose my question sounded silly in the first place, but it was more directed at where I was at large. Why was I here, as Fayth, with these abilities I couldn’t use and this mind I couldn’t contain?

“Why? What do you want to be?” the respond came again.

I chuckled. I did sound silly didn’t I? I suppose we all do at times. We think our identity changes, but it’s more concrete than our own thoughts. Our identity is held by One more powerful than anything we could ever see or touch. No matter how wild or disillusioned we can become, Meon will stay constant, and with him our identities remain untouched. 

“Reach out.”

Sometimes it’s hard to remember the bad things that have happened in one’s life. It’s always the good that triumphs and sticks in the mind. It’s the best thing about living, however, right now it’s a pain. I’m trying to recall my feelings at this stage of my journey and all I can remember is the unfailing love Meon had for me and the eventual victory I had. It won’t be pretty, but here we go.

Something had awakened in me. Something big. Ever since what happened on that battlefield I had this throbbing undertone in everything I encountered. A heartbeat I could hear wherever I walked. A solidity I could trust in.

But along with this awakening there was a despair. A falling apart. A collapse. I look back now and I still am unsure of why I felt this way. I can tell you though, I was desperate for something, and it was this despair that hid the awakening from me. I had a taste, but I felt like it was taken from me, where in reality it was the despair that merely became more prominent in my mind.

I felt like I wasn’t moving forward, that I wasn’t achieving anything. I was so aware of myself that I couldn’t see a way out of my frustration. Lies attacked my mind. Disbelief and distraction clawed at me. I had sunk. It didn’t feel evil, not like my past experiences, it just felt empty, like nothing I put my mind to was growing. I don’t know if it was my own self that brought me down, or if it was a time of growth, but I knew I needed help. I reach out for something and grabbed hold.

What I caught was a hand. I looked up from myself and saw a two familiar faces. They were family; my sister, Fionsâ, and her husband, Theoir, who’s hand I grasped. He pulled me up from where I was, put his head under my arm and led me away. Glancing over my shoulder I saw where I had been. It was a cesspit. I had been under this bog. How did I get here? I didn’t know. Everything was numbed but as I moved my senses revitalised. Everything reeked. I was half blind and my limbs responded slowly. I could see Fionsâ praying, but couldn’t hear any words.

Theoir was making his way into a thick part of the forest. It seemed impassible, but he led me safely. Deeper and deeper. I became more awake as I went. There were other Tÿrren here as well. A great many of them were wounded one way or another, but were being cared for by other Tÿrren. These were strong, helping spirits, who were spending every last effort to nurture the wounded back to health. We walked past them all.

Finally we reached the centre of the thickest part. I heard something, or felt it rather. There was a rumble, or perhaps a throb beneath me, above me, all around me. It over powered me and I stumbled. My siblings caught me and lay me down on a heather bed. I looked up.

“How did you find me?” I asked.

“We were always close,” Fionsâ gently spoke. “It was you who reached out.”

I closed my eyes and squeezed her hand. The awakening had finally overcome my despair. I let the heartbeat penetrate deep within me, healing me, comforting me. I felt so close.

“You cannot go long by yourself, Fayth,” the Still Small Voice whispered. “No one can. When things become too heavy for one spirit, the weight must be distributed.”

I knew it. I had always known it. But I had no one to go to. Yes there was family, and here they were helping me, but I knew deep down that their path and my path do not follow the same line, though they may cross from time to time. I had friends, but the same was true of them. I had striven to find anyone who was heading in the same direction me as but had found no one who was travelling more that a mile or two on my road. I sighed.

“Things will work out,” I heard, feeling the breath of warm alchas in me once again. “I have already begun to show you. I’m telling you these things so that one day you will know I have kept my promise.”

“Fire.”

I believe I have gotten over the scare I had in my last entry. It has been brought to the light, there’s no more need to worry. Now that I know my past, I must look to the future. It has been rough, the past little while. But then again, I’m writing from a time before that, so this could get interesting. I’ll catch up with myself one of these days. For now, I’ll stick to writing about what happened a while ago.

But I’m chatting. You read, I’ll write. I suppose I should just pick up where I left off. Where was that? Oh yes, the village. Things got pretty tight after what happened there. I started to be a bit of a disturber from that point on. Any settlement my alter ego or the Still Small Voice brought me to I helped to tear down. When I saw my job was done, and that the villager had turned from settlement, I left quietly. I still had this creeping feeling though, like I was being followed. I could feel it, but could never see what it was.

I was on a battle ground. I felt it. There was tenseness in the air, as if the trees themselves would start screaming. I always kept moving. I changed directions to ward off what was behind me. I hid in dark corners to see if I could catch a glimpse of what ever it was. I never did. Though it came to happen that I felt its grasp.

It is relatively quiet in Meona. Speech was only used unless needed, and shouting was rarely ever heard. So when I heard shouts coming from the forest ahead of me I knew something was wrong. I started running as quietly as I could through the brush. Pulling my hood up over my head I kept low for fear of being seen. I had no weapon. My alter ego was close.

I heard a crash nearby. The shouting that I had originally heard ahead of me was now all around me. I looked around to see figures struggling in the trees. I kept moving. The alchas had turned crimson. Still I moved on.

Finally I saw a large cluster of alchas ahead. I ran towards it and soon found myself at the top of a precipice. Looking down I saw a great battle. It was dazzling. Alchas swirled every which way. Figures danced around each other, swinging weapons, shooting arrows, or bending the alchas to their will. I stood in pure amazement. What was this? Who was fighting?

“Meon,” I whispered. “What do I do?”

“At the bottom of this cliff are friends,” I heard a firm voice say. “They will protect you.”

I grabbed onto a tree branch near me and leaped down the steep slope. Slipping and sliding, half running, half rolling I made my way down. I could hear harsh snarls coming from where I had leaped, but nothing pursued.

“Gníoms,” I shuttered.

My shoes held together. I felt solid, even though I should have been out of control. Peaceful in a time of war. An oxymoron? No, just favoured. Finally I saw the group of Tÿrren below me. I leaped down amongst them and swiftly jumped behind a boulder to study what was going on.

It was not what I had first thought, that the small group of Tÿrren were being pushed back against the rock, fighting for their lives. This was only a small division that had become separated from the rest. I looked down further into the valley and saw that it was the Tÿrren that were on the offensive, not the dark presence of the Gníoms.

Focussing back to what was at hand, I could see the little group by the cliff were struggling. As I paid more attention I realised most of the Tÿrren were those I knew. I needed to do something, but what?

“Meon,” I whispered, sitting down behind the rock, my back against it, “I need a plan.”

“Fire,” I heard.

I looked down in front of me and saw a pile of dead wood that had fallen from the cliff above. Scrambling forward I gathered the wood together.

“How do I make fire?” I asked, suddenly thinking.

“Speak it.”

I looked at the pile of wood. Standing, I pointed at it, and spoke the word.

“Fire.”

Suddenly a blast of white alchas leaped from my finger and sprang to the dried wood. The fire leaped up, lighting the cliff face and bouncing white light back on the battle. The crimson glow shrank away. I picked up a few brands and ran to the Tÿrren fighting nearby.

I threw a branch into the mass of darkness. Instantly the alchas burst. Sparks flew everywhere. I handed out the burning brands to the Tÿrren and stepped back to the fire. I took branch by branch, and threw it over the heads of my friends. I started crying “fire!” with each toss. The little grenades exploded amongst the Gníoms. The Tÿrren took the advantage and pressed forward. I followed.

Suddenly I saw one of my friends falter. He was an alchas bender. Féach was his name. A Seer. He went down with a Gníom on his back. I rushed forward with a burning brand in hand. Taking it with both hands I swung it down full force on the twisted creature’s head. It writhed off of Féach. Lifting my friend by his shoulders I started dragging him back.

I tripped on something and faltered myself. My leg was being pulled by something. I lost my footing and fell down beside Féach. I knew what it was. That thing, that being that was following me up ‘til now finally was making its move. I kicked, but it had too good of a grip. Féach roused himself and looked around. He saw me and what was pulling me away, but couldn’t help. He put his head down and whispered something.

I closed my eyes and prayed. A light crept into my eyes and the grip around my ankle relaxed. I opened my eyes and saw nothing but brilliant, brilliant light. There was a faint silhouette of what ever had attacked me. It had one hand shielding its head from the light, the other had been cut off by something. I crawled backward as the great thing writhed in pain, streams of alchas pouring out of its body. Finally it gave and more light poured out. The alchas flowed through the valley and struck fear into the Gníoms.

I looked around and saw a huge number of Tÿrren cutting their way to our little group by the cliff. The main army of Tÿrren realised we had become separated and came to help. The Tÿrren leader headed the assault. She threw aside the Gníoms as if they were chaff. When I think about it now, they did seem small next to the light. They were empty, but you can’t see it in the dark. Only in the light can you see them for what they really are; lifeless chaff.

The leader walked up to me. I trembled as she stood tall and glowing over me. I closed my eyes. Pointing at me she said only one word.

“Fire.”

“What is the Traenáil Tree?”

At the time, I knew as much as you do now. I also didn’t know the way, but kept being prompted by something inside me. I would like to think that it was my alter ego that kept urging me forward, but in hindsight I realize now that he was just as lost as me. Figures. Needless to say I was thoroughly lost. I hadn’t really known it, but I had been lost for a long time. I suppose lost isn’t the best word, but I’ll work with what I’ve got.

When someone is lost, they immediately panic, usually trying to remember where they came from, or finding out ways of getting unlost. However, if any lost person is able to calm down a bit, he or she might enjoy the experience. All of a sudden it’s an adventure! One can discover things while being lost, or also while trying to get unlost. One can learn things, about themselves and their atmosphere, they can learn skills, and can always meet Meon in the midst of it all. Getting lost is all well and good, but like I said, lost isn’t the best word.

You see, what happened with me is the complete reverse. I found the adventure first, and then panicked when I realized where I was and what had happened. It’s only now that I’ve found out what happened. I’ll try not to bore you with the lack of details, I’ll fill it in best I can.

Traenáil Tree? Oh yes, that’s where I was, thank you. It was about this time that I had started to panic. What time? Well then, lets go back further. When I first entered the Forest of Deis was when I initially got lost. Before then I had the open plains around me; a good place to be if you wanted to be safe in Meona. You can see for miles and get away from any dangers without even getting close. However, you cannot stay in the grass forever, which everybody tells you, but no one believes. And so I found myself in The Deis.

Things began to shift. I had new freedoms, but also new responsibilities. It was scary, but enchanting. I had begun a quest! I had started to venture to the Garden. Everything came to a standstill. Sort of like a young child dropping his toys to go see what his dad was doing, only finding that his dad was coming over to play with him and his toys. I had begun to notice and follow Meon, and found that I had neglected the talents that he wanted me to use.

Besides, he gave me the talents in the first place, just like a dad buys toys for his child. Why wouldn’t he want me to enjoy them?

“You must burn it yourself, or die protecting it.”

So far, you’re probably thinking that Meona is quite inhabited, and, quite honestly, except for the lárnach gathering, it has been. I had spoken with other Tÿrren telepathically and even met a few in my travels as a lone lost spirit, but it seemed broken and weak. However, communication with my alter ego has steadily grown and I’ve started to notice more Tÿrren around me. Telepathy has been stronger between them and I’ve even seen the person I’m speaking with at times. This seems strange to you, but you must remember distance in Meona is not the same as distance on Earth. It is usually a representation of the relationship between two individuals.

But anyway, back to my story. Light began to creep into my world of darkness. I felt refreshed. I opened my eyes to the flowing alchas between the tree tops above me. I blinked. The light was dazzling. I hesitate to call what I had just experienced as “sleep”, Tÿrren do not require sleep, but it is the best way of explaining how I felt. I felt wholly refreshed and sighing heavily, I sat up and looked around.

My feet were still in the stream. I had only seen water a few times in my life. How it sparkled! Everything had a different light. It was as though Meona was brighter. I frowned. It was brighter. What happened?

I got up and sat on the rock next to me. I gently dried my feet and wrapped them in the bandages the strange Tÿr had given me. I then picked up the shoes and tried them on. They fit snuggly. I stood up slowly and waited for my feet and legs to react in pain. It never came. I walked around and jumped over the stream. No pain at all! I smiled.

Suddenly I remembered what I was sent to do. Looking around I saw a large glow coming through the trees. It must have been causing the brightness I had woken up to. Picking up the excess cloth and bandages and tying them to my belt, I started off in the direction of the glow.

Walking through the brush I suddenly felt a presence. The alchas beside me gathered and Luath appeared out of it. He motioned his head to keep walking.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“Refreshed,” I replied cheerfully.

“Good,”

We continued walking, keeping the mysterious glow ahead of us.

“What is that light ahead?” I asked.

“Why don’t you ask your alter ego?” and with that he vanished.

I felt my alter ego’s presence. There was excitement and preparation, but also confusion and frustration. There was an advent happening that we were about to take part in. I looked back at the glow and remembered what the stranger told me to do. I realized that glow must be a village.

I picked up my pace and started to notice the streams of alchas growing overhead. The shoes I wore gave me a spring in my step. They protected my swift movements and I could feel the ground under my feet. I, unfortunately, was still not completely whole and had to slow to a walk before long.

I wasn’t quite sure what I would find there. The closer I got, however, the more I seemed to remember things. It was like deja-vu, but more surreal. My alter ego became more excited. I physically felt myself being pushed forward.

“This is the feeling you should always feel from your alter ego,” The Still Small Voice whispered.

I was suddenly thrust into a clearing filled with alchas. I couldn’t see anything. I squinted and blinked and tried to calm my alter ego’s energy. Finally, after my eyes got accustomed to the light, I could see what was around me.

It was a habitation of Tÿrren. There were tents pitched in the middle of the clearing and larger huts around them for protection. It was a village, a small village, but a gathering of homes none the less.

My immediate reaction was to sit and relax, but my alter ego pushed on, so I complied. I walked down the trodden path between two huts and continued through the tents. As I walked I could feel the Tÿrren around me, but barely saw one or two of them before they ducked into a tent or disappeared into a doorway. I sensed that I was marked as a traveller. They were afraid of me, but at the same time I felt they were relieved. I was confused.

I approached a somewhat smaller tent than the rest, seemingly jury-rigged in appearance, and knelt by the opening.

“Can you help me find the chief of this village?” I asked without opening the flap.

“I am she,” came the reply.

“I have need to speak with you,” I said after a pause.

There was silence for a moment and the tent flap was pushed aside, revealing a Tÿress. She stepped out of the tent and closed the flap behind her. I noticed she glanced at my shoes for a second before standing.

“What is it you wish to speak to me about?” She asked, finally looking at me in the eyes.

“I was sent as a messenger,” I began, unsure of where my words were coming from. “I was to warn you of oncoming raids.”

She furrowed her brow and continued starring at me.

“How did you know which tent to approach?” She asked finally.

I glanced behind her at the tent and then looked down. I wasn’t sure. I supposed honesty would be the best thing to follow through with at this point.

“I’m not sure,” I confessed, looking up. “My alter ego led me here. He seems to know the place.”

The Tÿress continued starring at me. I got uneasy.

“I’m just a messenger,” I said, “I was told we had to meet at the Traenáil Tree, and I suggest we do so soon.”

“Where did you get those shoes?” She asked, nodding to my feet.

I looked down. Again, I didn’t know. I was frustrated. I tried to remember the Tÿr that gave them to me. He reminded me of Luath in a way and his presence and telepathy felt like my alter ego. His voice was soft but commanding. Nothing in me wanted to disobey. I suddenly realized, this was no Tÿr, it was Meon Himself, coming in the form of something I trusted, my Ionat, my alter ego, and the Still Small Voice. 

“Meon,” I replied, putting the pieces together in my mind. “He also gave me the message.”

The Tÿress’ eyes widened. She covered her face with her hands and sat down.

“Thank you for bringing His words to us,” She said. “We have settled here and have done wrong.”

I nodded, knowing the danger was not in the oncoming raids, but within each Tÿr and his lack of will to move on. We had to wake the village up.

“I have only been with the village a short time,” the Tÿress said. “I was a traveller like yourself before I came, that is why I was elected chief. I fear I haven’t done much good.”

“Then do good now,” I said. “Tell me what to do.”

“We must tear the village to the ground,” She said after a pause, “And make for the Traenáil Tree.”

She suddenly up and kicked out a post holding up her own tent. Throwing the cloth aside and grabbing a long knife and a few possessions, she leaped away to the centre of the little villa. I followed her and watched her cut tent cords along the way, waking up the inhabitants inside and causing general confusion. When she approached the centre she called to the villagers.

“I am sorry! I am sorry. I apologize for not following through with the task I was given. The task to waken you. The task to help you. My heart burns for all of you, I wished then as I do now that you all were free, but I fell into settlement.”

Tÿrren came out of their homes to listen. I stepped into the shadow of a hut behind me.

“However, a traveller has come to warn us,” she continued, “of oncoming raids, something that is inevitable, especially in this district of The Deis. He wears the garments, the cloak and was given the shoes to come here and warn us.”

“You have done your work,” I heard the Still Small Voice say, “Go to the Traenáil Tree.”

“You all know in your heart what has happened,” The Tÿress cried. “And you all know what must be done.”

The Tÿress’ voice became fainter as I walked between the trees behind the hut. I kept walking until I heard shouts. I looked back to see the whole village up in flaming alchas and figures running this way and that, collecting belongings and finding family and friends.

“When a settlement occurs,” I heard voice said beside me, “sooner or later it will burn. It’s up to the inhabitants if they want to do it themselves, or to die protecting it.”

I looked down to see Luath standing beside me.

“Why would anyone die for something that they know in their heart is wrong?” I asked, looking up.

“You haven’t seen the structures that have been constructed, felt the luxuries that have been made, or heard the excuses that have been murmured. The longer one stays in one place for, the larger settlements he creates, and the farther he must eventually fall. Everyone is frightened of heights.”

The village became even brighter than before. The alchas spread to the branches. I heard singing in the mass of burning chaos in front of me. I smiled. This place had become a beacon, a testimony of what Meon had done in the lives of these people.

I looked down and, seeing that Luath had disappeared, continued on my way to the Traenáil Tree.

“The Shoes of Peace.”

I don’t know how long I lay prostrate on the ground, but I can tell you it felt like months.  I couldn’t understand the thousands of thoughts that seemed to fly in and out of my consciousness. My life was dormant. A feeling of sadness and resentment for what I had begun clouded my vision. I couldn’t finish this. I couldn’t even stand for a few moments on my own strength. Everything was swimming again.

My alter ego came to me frequently, trying to get me on my feet. Even he was stronger than me, if only a little. Now when I look back, I see that it was my own stagnant mind that sounded so evil. At the time, I thought all hell had broke loose and chosen me as a target.

“You never follow through. You always get distracted. You don’t measure up. Why do you even try? Nothing you do will change anything. Its all a waste. You don’t belong. You can’t focus. Your dream can’t be attained.You can’t do anything. You can’t even try. No one understands. No one will care enough to help.”

I wanted to quit, curl up, and forget. Thankfully, Meon had other plans for me.

You see, Meon’s not insecure. He doesn’t get flustered when we get angry, because he knows we’ll eventually come back around. It’s like a child punching a dad in the stomach. it doesn’t really hurt him and his integrity - He’s just concerned because his kid is throwing a fit. I had my frustrations against Meon and against my own life, but I honestly had no idea what to do with them. I wouldn’t say I bottled them up, but I definitely didn’t speak them out either. 

A sudden telepathic break into my consciousness tore me away from my melancholy suffering. It was a cry for help; the one thing in all of Meona that could have lifted me to my feet again. Was it Meon’s overwhelming knowledge? I can’t think of anything else it could have been.

All thoughts were instantly cleared from my mind and I got up from where I lay. Looking around I saw the fleeting stream of alchas that had hit me with the telepathy. I hobbled in its direction, not knowing why, or who I might find, or even if I would make it in the condition I was in.

My spirit strained against me. My feet burned. My legs were cold. For once I felt a physical heaviness on me. I felt the need to settle, but something inside of me urged to press on. Keeping my eyes on the flickering alchas and whispered a quick prayer.

A quick prayer! I can’t believe myself now that I think about it. I had just been cursing myself minutes before, but when the chance came to release the energy pent up inside, I whisper a quick prayer.

Hearing fast movements in the trees ahead I stopped to look. Suddenly I was hit by a fast moving spirit and knocked to the ground. Looking about me I saw another Tÿr in the same situation as my own. He hurriedly scrambled to his feet.

“Are you badly hurt?” He spoke, kneeling by me.

“Well in a way, but not by you,” I said, lifting myself on one elbow. “Was that you calling for help?”

“Yes,” The stranger said, somewhat hastily helping me lean against a tree. “You’re not in much shape to be of my assistance. But here, take this and wash in that stream nearby. When you feel up to it, run to the nearest village and warn them.”

“Of what?” I asked, taking a bundle of things the Tÿr took out from his bag.

“Oncoming raids,” He said. “Tell them to meet by the Traenáil Tree.”

“Where’s that?”

“They’ll know,” He said getting up to his feet. “You aren’t from around here, are you? Coming this far into the woods does not go unseen. No one has come this far without a few wounds. I hope to see you at Traenáil.”

With that he ran off. I didn’t ask him who he was or where he was going, I didn’t really understand him that clearly, but something about him was familiar. He reminded me of Luath in a way and his presence and telepathy felt like my alter ego. His voice was soft but commanding. Nothing in me wanted to disobey.

So I got up off the ground and went to look for the stream the stranger spoke of. I soon heard water trickling and found a fresh spring sprouting beneath a large rock. Taking out the package I was given and found that it contained several bandages and a pair of tight fitting shoes. In them was a note:

“Experience fully. Rest often. Always be at peace.”

Sitting down by the rock and putting my feet in the cool, clear water, I lay back in the grassy moss surrounding the small spring. I meditated on the words in the note. What do they have to do with me? What are these shoes? How did that Tÿr know to give me them? How do I know if it was for me? Well, of course it was for me, but I just…. I didn’t get it. My mind was too weak from travelling, weeping, and cursing.

Mesmerized by the alchas and treetops above me, I soon dozed off.

“The Bare Minimum.”

Many things have happened since my last post, so I won’t pretend this is merely a delayed greeting. There are two things that happened that I must talk about; well one in full and another that has yet to show completion. Although the later of the two is by far the more pressing and important one, I can’t quite get my mind around it at the moment, so I’ll get my thoughts in order by talking about the former.

As you might remember from my previous notes, I am still in the process of being equipped by Meon and my guardian Ionat, Luath. Meon was kind enough to provide me with my garments and cloak quick and early so as to keep me safe and secure when darkness approached. However, my journey has slowed. I felt like I was slamming against a wall.

I must remind you that in the land of Meona nothing is crystal clear. Sometimes one can see details far in the distance but find that everything is burry nearby. This is what happened to me. My thoughts were on bigger things. After my last entry I had begun to notice the Tÿrren around me more and what they are going through in their own lives. It wasn’t that I purposefully wanted to jump into what I thought my calling was, it was that it became natural to me to take part in it. It’s the effect a calling should have on a spirit.

Nevertheless, this was not Meon’s plan. Although I was empowered by my actions, I became tired. I felt like I was running and then bleeding, sprinting then gasping for air. I got to a point where I couldn’t really run anymore, nor even walk. I started getting settled, but this time out of necessity. Again, that feeling of slamming against a wall returned. This is when the Still Small Voice came to me.

“When will you stop following your giftings and callings for yourself?” He asked bluntly.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Your new found authority,” He continued, “You don’t use it for me. This is why you are tired. You have the right motives, and even the right methods, but they do not point to me.”

“How can I have the right motives and methods but not be pointing to you?” I asked curtly. I was wounded. I really didn’t want Meon to interfere at the moment. “I’m sure not pointing to myself with my actions.”

“No,” The whisper went on, “You are not pointing toward yourself or me. You are merely pointing toward a vague open space. Misrepresentation is not in my plan, Faÿth.”

“But how?” I asked, stunned.

“Have you noticed that you never come to me?” Meon asked, now breaking His soft voice and turning it into a rumble, shaking my core. “Have you noticed that it is always me that comes to you? I do this out of my love for you. I don’t wish you to become lost like you were before, but I want you to realize that if you continue to scratch the bare minimum you will always feel burnt out.”

“But I want to do more!” I cried out, standing up and punching the air. “I know I am called to do more! Why do you delight in showing me my vision then take it out of my grasp when I tighten my fingers?”

There was silence. Frustrated, I stopped my foot. Pain shot through my leg as my spirit reminded me of my wounds. I stumbled over clutching at my foot. Lying prostrate on the ground, I gathered my thoughts.

“Meon?” I asked, speaking into the leafy ground.

“Yes?” came the answer.

“I feel so far, so separated from everything around me. So separated from myself.”

“Yes?”

“You feel so close though. How can you feel so close and yet I still feel like this?”

“You are growing,” He replied. “All I ask is that you start coming to me instead of hearing a word and chasing after it yourself.”

I was silent.

“I don’t want your works,” The Still Small Voice continued. “I don’t want your dreams. I don’t want your visions. I don’t want your plans. I want you. And I want what’s inside of you.”

Still I was silent.

“You must make a choice, Faÿth. I love you. I want to give you your dreams. But there are things in the way. I can’t clear these away without your help. Help me out.”

Still I lay silent and resentful.

“He doesn’t just love me, He likes me.”

I had been shook from head to toe. I felt small. I felt unworthy. I thought I knew all there was to know about Meon, only to find Meon was nothing like what I had thought. Everything was swimming, I couldn’t find a solid place to stand and look about me. Everything was moving, my mind, my emotions, and my will. I could feel Meon slowly taking hold of me and giving me hope, but in the meantime I was lost in my thoughts, wondering if I would ever find my footing among them.

I still travelled in the Forest of Deis, much to my ignorance. It was obviously Meon’s plan, but sometimes we’re ignorant of that too, aren’t we? I know I do… unfortunately more often than not.

However, I walked in new authority, even though my spirit felt it not. My new appearance of hood and cloak made me feel safe, while the belt holding my clothes tight created a feeling of confidence and solidity, if only a little. I my mind was suddenly captured by how He held me and kept me safe.

This Ultimate Light, this One we call Father, this Meon is so terrible and unfathomable to the mind, yet he walks beside me and whispers in my ear daily. He is so close, so tangible. No matter how much I get caught up in His greatness, I will always remember His intimacy and how He doesn’t just love me, He likes me.