Chapter One

"Nothing in Clouds Hill is to be a care upon the world. While I have it there shall be nothing exquiste or unique in it. Nothing to anchor me." T.E. Lawrence

It is true that most stories end right where they began. They wouldn't be stories otherwise. I had just received what I thought to be Lanny's last letter. Lanny and I had been writing to one another for years but it seemed something had changed. Even he couldn't understand what it was I was trying to say about things but I sent my response along anyways hoping that he would choose the right thing and remember the advice.

This is the last thing I think I ever said to Lanny whom I often called doogs. Doogs was his dog that had perished before I ever met any of the men on Cloud's Hill.

I was his one motivation and he, was mine.

To Mr. Lanny Muss:

Oh, if there is ONE person in the world that I get a
letter from and am not surprised but delighted, it is
doogs. Thank you doogs. You know, it wouldn't be a
birthday without one!

We are fine here....we have food and water and a DOG!
A wonderful mutt without a name. We cannot find a
name for the poor guy. A pitbull mix, a just add
water kind of dog that may not beg and roll over but
knows where his bed is and when to be exceptionally
kind to us.

Truth be told however, we are in a miserable state but
opt not to talk too much about where are hearts are
right now and instead rely on the position of our
minds. One needs a good mind to digest it all right
now and plan ahead, so to speak.

As far as the literature is concerned, there was a
terrible yet miraculous falling out of friendships
only weeks before the Great Event which we witnessed.
One of the lesser compatriots in the group took it
upon himself to ask a question of me i.e. what do you
mean by this Zionism? Oh and then he vocalized such
miserably shallow contempt for folks "like me". And
who is like me doogs? I'm sure there are many who see
things as they are instead of how they want them to
be. Some of us learned the truth in various ways and
others learned in various other ways. Some of us were
shown the truth in our dreams and the truth was:

you have it now, go out and do not stand down unless
you are too tired to fight anymore and even then, just
remember to hang onto yourself until the bleeding and
killing stop. Try not to lose consciousness during
the battles raging all around you.

When at first the question was asked, I did what I
know to do and bracketed the contemplation in basic
truths about the "God-ness" of the situation scholars
of the sect like me know so well: There is no
coercion in religion. When we choose to ignore that
it can only be the greatest risk and nothing less, to
say what must be said. We have ways of knowing and
seeing things that are "all the way" not just part.
Someone once said, "It is not the almost good Quran or
the partly correct Quran, it is the Glorious Quran."
Can it be that there are still those who do not
understand the forked road down which that leads?
Those that do not comprehend that every kind of malice
and every kind of benefit is described within that
text and in some places outside of it? The road down
which that leads is certainly haunted by demons that
cannot be described except to those who have at least
seen the road from a fairly close distance let alone,
traversed it. Some of those know what is being warned
of but others just prefer to paint the demons on the
roads below, their own color. There are other roads
of course but the view is not quite as majestic from
those several paths that criss cross beneath our own.
And when a person gets far enough down the second of
the forked paths, they start to lose contact with the
others who know that one person has chosen that hard
path with certain knowledge about the path (unlike the
very lucky travelers who never considered another road
ever..those are the lucky ones). They, those below,
are on their own paths but do not understand the
weariness of the other paths nor do they comprehend
the junctures at which the other roads pass under our
own. Worse, they resent the flighty calls we use to
remind them as if we mimic the call of certain birds.
They often say to others, "those 'up there' are
obviously insane to be making such noises".

We have become many on this majestic path...although
some of the travelers here are not so judicious in
their warnings and others hoping to either keep the
peace or at least, describe what peace might look like
lose the ability to remain patient. It doesn't
resemble what most people think. It, "the peace"
looks more like determination and less like simple
giving up and submission to faulty human desires:
fame, wealth, love.

There is a point on our road that has a sign that is
very clear, This Way Out. No one however that has not
seen that sign in particular believes that it is
there! I've seen the sign with my own eyes and heard
the creak of it (the winds here are harsh and have
voice) with my own ears. I physically lifted those I
could to the level of seeing it as well, dragged their
little bodies and minds up by force and am exhausted
from that activity and the activity of keeping them
there as if held by the finest threads of a spider's
web...this is parenthood and wifehood. The rest I
cannot drag nor hang onto but I did attempt to once,
just a few months ago. Those compatriots were almost
there or at least, one of them was or maybe two. Then
it (a mysterious stack of cards) all fell down because
one of their own path guides took issue with my
leadership and perpetrated a mutiny, a mutiny I had
seen in his eyes for a very long time. I caught him
in his mutinous deed and what does one do when at that
particular point in time but show one's sword? I
asked, Do you like it?

It is sharp and very. It cuts and does not make
hostages. Hostages I am not able to sequester or
return if need be.

I believe that when one shows that sword then there is
no option but to cut the ties, the very thin ties one
has weaved with one's own hand. There is one final
moment however, when the followers can choose either
way, to hang onto what they have been so desirous of
seeing by the second hand logic of description or
else, they can let go and allow their feet to fall
back onto the old road thinking that the old road is
still what the old road was. It isn't! It is a
vaporous road, ancient and changeable anymore but
looks solid to the untrained eye. What can I do to
describe to them the nature the old road and its
destructions and brilliantly reconstructed bridges and
landmarks? The landmarks there look almost real but
they are only copies carved out of memory, from books
and ideas. In fact, they have their own illusions
about the illusions and will swear to one of us that
they know the brilliancy of illusions. Everytime one
of these cautious followers reaches one of the fine
statuaries on those old roads they feel cheated even
though they once again, swear they know they were
going to be cheated by the fake marble. It is then
that they start shouting at us above (whom they cannot
see but know we are there still calling to them about
the looks of things)...they shout about our deeds as
if our deeds were recriminations or violations
which...well...they were but we told them so, we told
them that if you choose to ask deeply of certain
things, you will get an answer and you will be forced
to make a decision.

We are told about these violations..this act of
telling the others, describing to the others the
majesty we are seeing. They begin to hate us after we
cut the ties even though they chose to take that old
path. That old path that leads to the weary
conclusion that the road was rebuilt by those who use
roads for robbery rather than travel. That road below
is just chock full of demons that look fairly smart
and clean, less alarming. The demons up here are not
so devious because they know what we know and they
know where we also go....with them. They wear their
own clothes and you cannot mistake them for anything
but what they are. Our demons travel with us together
and know what we know. I say it once again but
differently this time. We know that when we have
reached the sign This Way Out that we also know who
helped us to get there and who helped them, in fact,
who posted them there. It is as if our demons, the
obvious ones are put there merely to keep us busy or
fatigued. When we reach the door, we know without any
doubt what was told us, was told to us clearly. We
understand the questions on the other side of the door
will consist of very important details of which only
the text provides the answer. I'll tell you what it
is doogs, the answer so that when you get to the door
and move beyond it...you will have the proper
response.

It will be asked:

Who were your helpers?

You are to say:

I thought it was this one. You are not to say, "I
didn't have any." This is an obvious lie, I must just
say it to you directly. It is an obvious lie. There
is no passage through that door without certain kinds
of help and we all make it through that door
regardless of what path we took to get there.

The next question will be:

Where are your helpers now?

You are to say something like:

They are no where to be found, they were false or they
were a bit of trickery, we may have believed them for
whatever reason but we do not deny now what their role
was.

Then, you will be asked:

Who is your helper now?

You are to say:

Allah. There is only one Allah. You are the one who
posted the demons as guardians of many things and
caretakers of even more. (You must know that some
demons can be seen right now, inside...they whip and
torture some so obviously that you can literally see
their heads warp from the blows or see them scurry
away under the thrust of the demonic whips...like my
poorest brother John..last time I saw him, he was
being whipped sorely by one of these shaitans...not
clear whether the shaitan was whipping him for his
failure to bother me on "his advice" or whether it is
just one of the tedious Shaitan that knows he has one
soul and just lazily whips away like a person who
whips a half dead horse).

You might then be asked to question one of the demons
or perhaps even one of the more pleasant looking
pretenders. And I know what any of those false
helpers will say.

They will say:

We didn't ask you to follow us did we? We follow
Allah also. We never told you to take our advice, you
only took it because of your disillusionment.

Oh sure..they are cunning little fellows on THIS side
of the door but inside the door they are merely doing
what it is they were told to do. And to state the
obvious.

Allah does not leave any one without supervision if
they so choose. And most certainly, Allah created the
demons as well (which is a fine point of contention on
the other paths but not ours). We know that no thing
or place or road was left without guardians of the
highest order: angels. All sorts. Of death and more
importantly, the greatest one of all, Iblis. We do
not bow to him but respect his position. We do not
follow his advice but know what purpose to which his
advice serves. Ah! It serves as a rejoinder on the
other side of the door, a final proof. Perhaps a very
painful one for some. A horrid one. One that will
make anything more than that unimaginable. Especially
if they have been shown a sword from one of us. They
will remember that sword in the worst way. The sword
that they basically asked us to show to them, to check
in some way, "our seriousness".

And still...I am not through that door...all I can do
is wait where I am. Hold onto what it is I know I've
pulled up and just stand, dig in. Dig my heels
literally into the path there. All the while I must
watch some very terrible things all around. Majestic
is what majestic is. Like any mountain described
accordingly it is a landscape of sharp edges, huge
drops and dark crevices. Beautiful isn't a descriptor
there. Unless you say, Terrible Beauty. It is a
terrible kind of beauty. Sometimes, it scares me.
Luckily though, those that were already by the door
remind me that all is normal. This stuff is normal,
get used to it for now. It won't last too long but it
might seem so.

All for now doogs. Thank you for my birthday present
which is not only a greeting but an invitation to
digress on these sorts of things for whatever reason
one does that.

No swords for you.

M