Jerry arrived at the Salal at 5am in darkness and finished at 4pm in darkness. It would be another 16 hours until daybreak. Light was a precious commodity during winter. He craved light, some tiny morsel, as vital as oxygen.
And with the darkness, depression tugged at him once again.
Ken Wolfe, a Jungian therapist, lived in a redwood shake house near the bluff. Amidst the tall pines, his office offered a view of the Straits and the Cascades in the distance. On one wall hundreds of books sat crammed into built-in book shelves; on another hung a Kandinsky print and another, an Egyptian papyrus painting. A mountain of papers covered one side of his desk. An old manual Olivetti typewriter sat on the other side.
Lounging behind his desk, Ken stuffed tobacco into his pipe and lit it. The smoke curled up into the air and emanated a rich, spicy smell. His eyes, behind wire rimmed glasses, conveyed owl-like wonder. Jerry thought he was looking at Santa Claus. He envied his full head of curly white hair.
Out the window Jerry’s thoughts roamed, into the gentle, expansive quiet, a quiet that invited his deepest thoughts, a quiet enhanced by the resonant bong of the distant buoy.
“I need to find God,” said Jerry.
“How do you plan on doing that?” said Ken drawing on his pipe.
“I thought you could tell me.”
“Have you had any dreams about this?”
“Well…no.” Jerry recalled the masturbation dream with his father. He wasn’t ready to talk about that, not that that had anything to do with finding God…or, did it?
“Have you ever meditated?”
“When I was in high school, I bought a book about meditation. I probably was drawn to it because of the cute blond on the cover. She wore a white unitard and sat in a full lotus before a lit candle. It kinda turned me on.”
“You are drawn to God in the feminine form.”
“No. I’m drawn to cute women.”
They both laughed. Ken’s eyes sparkled.
“Anyway,” Jerry continued, “I read the book from cover to cover and one autumn Saturday afternoon I made the bold choice not to go to the high school football game and instead meditate. I sat on a hill and tried to dissolve clouds. I didn’t get any of the big ones, but I really thought I got rid of few small ones.”
Ken nodded with a bemused smile. He slapped his hand on the desk and leaned forward. “Are you ready to get started?”
Jerry jumped and nodded slowly. Who was this guy? Jerry gripped his chair.
“I want you to go on a Vision Quest,” said Ken. “This was a Native American ritual. When there was a need to speak directly to God, the shaman would go out in the desert with no food and water and stay for three days. We don’t have a desert handy, so use your apartment. Stay there for three days and three nights. Don’t eat or sleep. Don’t speak with anyone. Meditate, walk around, do calisthenics, dance and, most of all, write. Keep track of what you’re feeling.”
Rain scratched at the windows. A nuclear submarine glided by.
“Can I drink?”
“Water, no coffee, no alcohol. You can make lemonade, no sugar. Also, you can have chicken broth or miso for some protein.
“Be easy on yourself. Stop if it gets to be too much. Call me anytime if you need support. Just let me know when you start.
“Are you game?”
“I’ve always felt some kind of affinity to Native Americans.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. They are a feminine dominant culture. Write about that. Imagine yourself part of their world.”
Ken took a long draw on his pipe, then he leaned forward.
“Are you aware of the Jungian concept of synchronicity?
“It seems to be coming up a lot lately.”
They looked at each other, frozen. Then they burst out laughing.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” they both said at the same time. And laughed more.
“Listen for her. She comes in many masks.”
“Yeeeeess,” Jerry said.
***
“You sure you want to do this?” April pulled out a tray of banana chocolate chip muffins from the Salal oven.
“I’ll try anything to get some kind of contact with God.”
“I would go crazy.”
“I think that’s the point.”
“I wouldn’t mess with my sanity.”
“Yeah. So, OK, I’m scared. But excited.”
She passed him a warm muffin.
“Seriously, you need to start a muffin shop,” said Jerry on his way out.