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BEYOND PARADISE
Copyright Sunday, September 2, 2007, 4:01 P.M. California time. UBI AMOR IBI ANIMA.
Everything is under full copyright, Ó Rebecca Tacosa Gray, U.S. Postal Service, most written by hand
ISBN: 978-0-9796372-7-8
ALL PARTS OF THS BOOK UNDER FULL U.S. COPYRIGHT.
NO PART MAY BE COPIED OR REPRODUCED.
ALL PARTS OF THS BOOK UNDER FULL U.S. COPYRIGHT.
NO PART MAY BE COPIED OR REPRODUCED.
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THE CROSS ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ “And so, my friends,” the voice was saying, “the lesson to be learned from our tragic struggle is the lesson of unity.”—Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
That night Indila Tacosa Gray had a dream. She was half asleep reading the bible, trying to figure out what the real point of it was. Sometimes God was a vengeful God. Sometimes it was a forgiving God. Sometimes a loving God. Too many faces to count. Why did she care? The only real section she felt pertinent was Jesus’ contribution to the world, sans crucifixion. She hated the crucifixion. She hated sacrifices. Why did she keep returning to it over and over again? She wished she could talk to him, ask him why. Why a celebration of death was necessary. As she thought about this particular moment in history she drifted off to sleep. Then she started to dream. In her mind the landscape changed, and suddenly there she was. And there he was. Nailed to the cross. She stood on the curve of a hill…at least that was the way she imagined it. The cross, stark, on a gentle hill. A vague landscape spanned out behind it until it’s earthly miles melted into a quietly insistent changing sky. Was this what it really looked like that day? Probably not. She really had no idea. She wondered, her damned insecurity nagging her acutely. Why she had to see him this way at this moment? And it happened again. Did she fly? Did she materialize? Did she walk up to him? She didn’t really know. All she knew was that she stood at the foot of the cross looking up. He looked down at her. They looked at each other. It was strange. She had never really seen him this way, literally, in her mind. What do you ask someone who’s hanging on a cross like this? Too many thoughts…What do I really need to know? And the answer came to her, quiet and sure. “Why must there always be sacrifice?” she asked. He smiled. “Humanity must have something to believe in. The world must have a reason to live. It was a sacrifice, Rebecca.” Did he really believe that? Did he really like the fact that he was tortured and put to death for millions of people to love? Humanity. All of us. The people who murdered him and the modern society we were now…and we were still murdering him, by celebrating his torture. The more she looked at that cross the sicker it made her. Did the wood carry the weight of his pain? It was awful. She looked back up at him. “I don’t like that cross very much.” He smiled, not a happy smile, but a smile. “Neither do I..” She continued. “Will they really remember all that you stood for? Will they really understand everything you said? Everything you did? Will they really remember the true meaning of love?” They thought it at the same time. Or maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was only her mind playing tricks on her. Does anyone really know the true meaning of love? “I don’t know. Rebecca, I don’t know the answer to that question. At least, I didn’t know the answer to that question then.” “But God knows everything.” “God does know everything. But I am not God. I am Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” The smile he was giving her right now wasn’t right, and she knew it. He was about to laugh. “Alright then. I’ll give you another answer. God knows everything. And nothing.” What the hell did that mean? More to think about. Always more to think about. He was watching her again, and it was making her uncomfortable. All from that damned cross. Why didn’t he just get down to talk to her? Silence…and she couldn’t think of anything else to say. She should leave now. Get back to normal life. She turned to go. “Why are you ashamed to look at me?” Now that was a question. She wasn’t looking at him, was she? She refused to see his body. Refused to see the nails. Refused to check and see if there was any blood. Refused to see if there was a gash from a sword plunged into his ribcage. Rebecca never liked to see anyone suffer. She looked away, sometimes wondering if there was anything, really, to see. Who and what was God, anyway? This was endless, wasn’t it? Constant query into the actual truth of things. Did she really want to think about this right now? No, she didn’t. So she looked off into the nondescript landscape. Nondescript. It made her want to laugh. She didn’t even really know what the true area of the crucifixion really looked like. “Judea.” Is that what he just said? She didn’t know even that. What did the horizon really look like that day? Was it bleak? Was it cloudy? Did the wind howl and curl restlessly around the cross while he cried? Did the earth cry with him? Or did he really cry…Did he actually cry? Did you cry? It was an echo inside of her. “Yes. I cried. Rebecca I wept. I bled. I asked to be saved again and again. It never came. I suffered. I truly suffered. But I suffered for a reason. And that reason is you. I suffered for the chance of love to come knocking at everyone’s door.” He stopped. She wasn’t listening to him. “Why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you look at me? Why are you so ashamed of me? I want to know why.” Do I really have to answer this? She wanted to walk away. She wanted to walk away right this second. Why was the goddamned landscape so quiet? “Yes, you really have to answer this. Answer the question. Do it. Answer the question, or I’ll be hanging here all day long.” Fine. “I’m ashamed of what I feel about this particular moment in history. I hate it. I don’t want you hanging up there forever. I want you down off of that cross right now. I want you to stand up and walk among us (Not literally, she thought) without the possibility of being crucified. I want love to walk among us unimpeded by the evil of guilt.” “And you don’t like guilt.” “No, I don’t.” Stop asking me so many damned questions! This was starting to get annoying. “I don’t know. I really don’t. All I can tell you is what I know. Guilt destroys. Young children are told before they’re even of age that someone’s died for their sins.” She looked at him accusingly. “Are you willing to tell me that most human beings have sinned before they’ve even really started to live? I’d really like to know.” He truly looked concerned at this. “I think you’re forgetting that I didn’t ask to be crucified.” It struck her to her heart. It was cruel. One who didn’t want to be crucified…and she should weep at this. She knew she should. She wanted to. “I don’t know.” Her answer was quiet. “It just feels like true denial of beauty. Denial of the gifts the universe offers us every day. Denial of what the life we were given really could be. Denial of what love really is.” “And what is love, Rebecca?” “I don’t know.” “Yes, I think you do.” “God is love.” “Is he really?” “That’s what everyone says.” “Well, is God love?” Oh, hell, I don’t know, she thought. If he isn’t, he damned well should be. And she had another answer. “We’re all love. The earth is love. Everything is love, viewed properly. Love is recognizing beauty in everything. Love is love.” He paused, looking quietly at her before continuing right through her thought. “Rebecca, why are you here? Why are you here in front of this cross talking to me?” She wanted to scream. To beat him right down off that cross, because it reminded her, yet again, of that same issue: “Why do we need a fucking sacrifice to understand love?” She looked up and finally met his gaze. “Do you want people to know you or not? Do you really want them to remember who you were and what you stood for? Or do you want the world to continue to ignore the fact that love is what really mattered in all that you taught? My mother said it herself. Love others as you would love yourself. Love the Lord God with all your heart, mind, body and soul. Don’t you want anyone to really know what it means?” Did they already? Maybe they did and she just didn’t know it. He looked down at her, his eyes full of tears. “This is hard for me, Rebecca, it really is. It tells me how much you really care. How much you, specifically, truly want to understand me and all I stood for. In terms of everything you know about the world. It means everything to me.” Time to go back home. It really was time to go back home. Now she really was going to stop listening to him. She turned to leave. He floated down, off the cross, to cut her off and stand in front of her politely. “Don’t forget about me. You know what I stand for. Now stand up and fight for it.” Then she woke up. She was sweating, and didn’t understand why it had felt real.
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WALKING ON WATER _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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In this dream, Rebecca sat next to a sea. It wasn’t calm. More a tossed, restless ocean, letting the wind blow its crests into jagged peaks. She wondered why. In some ways she felt it was nature’s way of letting her know it was distressed, upset by the state of the world. She watched the choppy surface of the water, and wondered at a tiny boat rocking to and fro haphazardly in the distance. Why it was out there in this kind of weather she didn’t know. It was a bad day to be sailing, and she shook her head, hoping they’d be alright out there. To her surprise, as she watched it struggle to navigate itself, one of its seamen stepped out of the small craft and started walking across the water toward her with intentful purpose. For a while she couldn’t tell who it was, but realized as he drew closer he was Jesus himself. That’s quite a feat, she thought. She sat up straight and brushed the hair out of her eyes. It was annoying, this wind. He was smiling, she saw, and didn’t seem bothered at all by the irritant weather. As he touched the ground he brushed his hair back confidently. “It’s unusually windy today.” Turning quickly to face the ocean of water, he put out his hands and it calmed immediately. As miracles went, it was pretty fantastic. It reminded Rebecca of the lake she had been left next to by her Guardian Angel, smooth as glass. She smiled. “I guess you really do walk on water, amongst other things.” Jesus laughed. “All in a day’s work. But I only try to do it when it’s necessary anymore.” “Trying to impress me?” He looked at her with that disapproving look. “Maybe. Or maybe trying to make a point.” “I think I already know how powerful you are.” “That’s not what I mean, and I think you know that.” He sighed and walked over to sit next to her. “Actually, I saw you from the boat and thought you might like some company.” “That’s nice of you.” She looked out at the water. Another dream with Jesus in it. It was interesting meeting him again. “Or divine providence. We seem destined to meet.” Not on purpose, she thought. Jesus continued on as if he hadn’t read her mind, but from his reaction to her she knew he had. “I hear you’re talking to a colleague of mine.” That left her uncomfortable. Extremely uncomfortable. Were they enemies? “Actually, no. We’re not.” Dammit! Why does he always read my mind? It irritated her. She talked back, with the bravado she knew she really didn’t have. “Yes, actually, I am. He brings up interesting points about you, you know. Well, maybe not about you. But about the bible.” “Really.” She looked at him bravely. “Yes. Really.” It didn’t seem to phase him. “And? Let me guess. You have questions.” “Yes, I do.” “Alright, shoot.” That made her laugh. Instantly a negative image ran through her mind. It wasn’t as if she was carrying a gun. Jesus smiled. She could tell he was reading her damned mind again. “You might as well be, you know. You ask a lot of questions I’m not sure I like to answer. But go ahead. Ask. It’s a beautiful day out here. I’m up for a debate.” She smiled and looked down. “I’ve been reading the Bible a bit lately. You seem to have quite a personality. There are times where I just can’t figure you out.” “I’m a complex kind of guy. But since we’re on the subject, what bothers you?” She turned and faced him, rearranging herself cross legged in front of him. “Alright. In the Bible it says: “Then Jesus said to his disciples, ‘If anyone wishes to come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For he who would save his life will lose it; but he who loves his life for my sake will find it. For what does it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, but suffer the loss of his own soul? Or what will a man give in exchange for his own soul?” It sounds suspiciously like sacrifice. Again. In her head she thought, Why the hell do I remember all this verbatim? “It’s a dream, Rebecca. Wondrous things happen in dreams. And I understand that you hate sacrifice. But aren’t you leaving something out of that passage? It ends, “For the Son of Man is to come with his Angels in the glory of his Father, and then he will render to everyone according to his conduct. Amen I say to you, there are some of those standing here who will not taste death, till they have seen the Son of Man coming in his kingdom.” He leaned in to her, smiling. “St. Matthew, 12:27.” She frowned. “I don’t particular like that part of the passage much. Isn’t it a little harsh? Render everyone according to his conduct. Tasting death only after the ‘Son of Man…’” He interrupted her. “That’s me, you know.” She jumped right back at him. “I know it, dammit. But I’m trying to figure out why you are the judge of anyone.” “Don’t you think people should know the difference between right and wrong?” “Yes, I do. But don’t you think they should be able to think for themselves? Following a host of Angels and harkening after an almighty judge doesn’t really do it for me. No offense, but we are capable of thinking for ourselves.” He was going to start talking again but she jumped right back on him. “And you’re ignoring the beginning of that passage. Why should anyone have to deny himself and take up a cross? One crucifixion’s enough. We should be recognizing how beautiful life really is. Why should we deny ourselves everything in order to find life. And why does it have to be through you?” He didn’t like the turn this conversation was taking. “If you’re going to attack everything I do this conversation is not going to end up pretty. I’ve taken enough beating as it is.” She looked down, ashamed, then sighed and turned back to face the ocean. “I’m sorry. I just think life’s already here. An eternal judge means power, control, to me. Denial means sacrifice. And the loss of your soul…well, it all sounds a bit harsh.” He took her hand, and held it tightly. “Rebecca, look at me. This passage is meant to bring hope. Your view of it is a little different than I’d like to have it read.” She pulled her hand back. She wasn’t liking this conversation much. That felt like a slap in the face. A light one, but a slap, nonetheless Time for a change of subject. The boat was still out there, continuing its gentle rocking motion on the glossy surface. The light looked like a diamond floating. A sea of diamonds, actually. Beautiful…beautiful, Rebecca thought. She looked at him. He was looking at the ocean, as well, smiling softly. “Do you think the world is beautiful?” “Yes, I do.” She smiled, and continued on. “Sometimes I look at things in this world, anything. The patterns in a leaf, an old shoe lying on the side of the road, a battered penny…and I see beauty.” She lifted her hand to show him. “I see the gentle curve of the leaf, the way the shoelaces intertwine into a wave on the cement, the sparkle of the beaten ridges on the copper.” She looked out at the boat. “Just now—“ “I know. You saw a field of diamonds on the water.” “Yes.” This time she didn’t mind that he read her mind. He turned to look at her “It’s lovely, Rebecca, it is, what you see in the world. But do you see the beauty in people…this world isn’t just about objects. Look. There are people out on that boat. People bearing love. For you. For others. She was quiet. “I know.” She felt a little sad. “But do they see the diamonds on the water.” He was still smiling. “I did.” He looked back out, then back to her. “I did, Rebecca” He touched his heart. “And right here. In you.” He went on “There’s sense to what you say, though. I do understand exactly what you mean.” She turned. “I suppose in my view, the world isn’t just about objects. The beauty in people lies in their ability to recognize beauty itself. In the world itself. In the things we love, large or small. That is the beauty in people. He understood her, then. “Yes, I do.” He touched her hand. “And for once, we agree on something.” She smiled back. Maybe they would be friends after all. She laughed. “I’m surprised , you know.” “At?” “Well, I figured you’d be the ‘renounce everything and follow me” type.” She touched his hand. “Don’t take that personally. It just…makes me happy that you see the loveliness in the beauty of objects. The way people view their belongings.” “Well, that’s debatable, though, don’t you think? Are they really belongings? Do you really own them? Do they really belong to you? What was that old saying? ‘None of us are owners here, we’re all just passing through.’” She looked out at the water. “I happen to think that’s a lousy statement.” He didn’t say anything. Not a word. She continued on. “We’re not just ‘passing through’. Complete denial of the beauty set before us is ‘passing through.’ It’s overlooking the beauty of this world.” She paused “Anyway, I’m not talking about mere object collection, amassing wealth, or anything like that. It’s exactly as I said before. The way people look at the world. The way they look at their belongings. I happen to think those belongings will love them back. Again, I suppose that’s exactly why I dislike the statement ‘deny one’s self and take up his cross How long do you want people to follow you by crucifying themselves?” “I took up that cross for love, Rebecca. Don’t demean me this way.” Whatever, she thought. Sacrifice. She hated it “No. You look at me. Right now. Right now. “ And she did. “Love, Rebecca. Love. I loved mankind so much I put my life on the line. You’re asking a lot of questions right now, and that I don’t mind. But you keep your perspective straight. At that moment in time, at that very moment, I loved you. All of you.” He had tears in his eyes. “And I gave up my life for you I didn’t want to, but I did.” He grabbed her hand. “Hold me. Touch me. Do you feel this? Skin. My skin. My face. My bones. A man. A human. Like you.” And he looked her straight in the eyes. “I don’t expect you to go out and crucify yourself. I don’t. But don’t you dare push my soul, the value of who I was and what I stood for, into the background I stood for love, Rebecca Love.” And he pushed her hand away, disgusted “And I hate fighting with you I respect your questions. I really do.” She wanted to cry. Here they were again, back to arguing. She did respect him…didn’t he know that already? He stood up, brushing off his clothes. He looked out over the ocean, still sparkling like a field of diamonds. “I do love you, Rebecca. I really do. It’s hard to walk around what happened to get to love. But you have to see it. See what it was I’m aiming for. Love.” She was looking down, and a tear fell on her knee. “I know…but so am I.” It was quiet “So am I.” “I know you are. We all are.” He smiled…or was it an attempt at a smile. “I should go now.” She didn’t look up. “I know.” “Enjoy your day. It is beautiful today, you know.’ And he started back across the water. She saw his friends standing, waiting for him. He turned around halfway to look at her, lifted his hand, and up floated a sparkle of light off the surface of the water. Bright. Beautiful. A diamond It glowed, brighter, brighter, into a star…a small star, floating on his hand. And he touched it to his heart. It melted into his heart A flash of light blinded her and the dream was gone, and she was awake. And she still wanted to cry.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ THE TEMPTATION _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The room was quiet…the desert was quiet. Rebecca had read Jesus’ Temptation scene before she fell asleep, and she slipped into this dream as she did all the others, softly. Softly, and then standing on the sand, sunlight blinding. She put her hand up to her eyes and looked out over the horizon. Hot. It was hot. And then she felt it, a quiet voice in her ear, a bit raspy. What are you doing here. You shouldn’t be here. It startled her, and she looked around. No one to be seen. Then she felt a softness, like a breath of air. Like a soft eel at her cheek, and it seemed to smell of smoke. She turned her head to get away from it. I said, what are you doing here. You shouldn’t be here. She stood very still and answered, very afraid. “I don’t know. I’m just here. This is a dream, isn’t it? I usually meet Jesus in my dreams. Not always. But some of the time.” He’s here. But you shouldn’t be here. Curiosity k-I-l-l-e-d the cat. Or didn’t you know that? This wasn’t right. This wasn’t a dream she thought she was going to like. Where was Jesus…maybe he would show up soon. She instinctually walked away, looking around. He isn’t here. I’ll take you to him, though. Soft laugh. I won’t hurt you. It is a dream, after all. The scene changed, right in front of her. To another part of the desert. And it was dark. And she could hear a voice. And the eel caressed her cheek again, and she stiffened, listening. And there I am, in all my glory. You do like glory, don’t you? She felt it slide away, toward the voices…and she walked forward, seeing him clearer as she approached. She stopped a bit away. He looked thin, haggard. Tired. And she seemed to see a cloud near him, and a bit of cloud joined that cloud. She could hear it. Same voice, but louder. Almost many voices. But one voice. If thou art the Son of God, command that these stones become loaves of bread. It was quiet for a moment. Then she heard his answer. “It is written, Not by bread alone does man live, but by every word that comes forth from the mouth of God.” The cloud seemed to burst outward in irritation, then coalesced back into itself. It seemed to shiver, then spiral out and around him. The scene changed again, and Rebecca watched it slide around her. As if a room was moving slowly, in a counter-clockwise direction. Slowly, slowly. And they were on top of a building. A temple. She could see him clearly now…it was broad daylight and he didn’t look happy. But he stood strong. He stood strong, despite his tired appearance. She wondered when he’d slept last. And she watched the cloud coalesce again, this time to his right…into a shape of a man. And it stood close. Too, close, she thought. They were close to the edge of the roof, and she didn’t like it. It made her nervous. The male image seemed to nudge him, and Jesus just stood there and took it. That voice. That voice again. She hated that voice. If thou art the Son of God, throw thyself down; for it is written, “He will give his angels charge concerning thee; and upon their hands they shall bear thee up, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone.” The being nudged him again, and Jesus shrugged it off and stepped back, looking clearly at it. Unafraid. “It is written further, Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.” The being seemed to rise and expand, taller, taller. Jesus turned and walked away, toward Rebecca, actually, and she stepped back. He didn’t seem to see her, though. The cloud collapsed into an angry face behind him, and then into itself onto the ground, sliding toward him like a snake. It wrapped around his ankles and slid up, again spiraling around him, closer this time. He looked up, a bit angry, at the sky. Almost searching. Then back out. The environment was changing again, the counter-clockwise movement fading the temple and merging into a landscape. A mountain. The view spanned out in all directions, the air crisp, clean. A bit cold, actually. And Jesus looked down and just shook his head. Sighed. Then turned to face the view before him. Rebecca looked, as well. Cities, beautiful, large and small radiated out from the mountain. It was strange…some of them looked like the villages and places of Jesus’ own time, and others were modern, large cities with skyscrapers rising into the sky. Rebecca wondered what he was seeing. Did he see the modern? Or did he only see the view in terms of his own historical period? The cloud pulled together, suspended over the view, and slowly solidified into an Angel. Larger, larger it became, dark, and it’s black form shimmering in its entirety. Beautiful, it was beautiful. The face was a face of Beauty. Probably one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. And this Angel, this Dark Angel filled the sky. The wings flared out gracefully, stretching quietly and setting around him. A slow smile, and he looked Jesus straight in the eye. The cities sparkled behind him, a glow emerged from the horizon, warm, like gold. It was breathtaking. Rebecca looked at the Angel. The glow didn’t touch him. He just shimmered. Shimmered. The smile disappeared into an intimidating calm, and he spoke, the voice deep, resonant, grand. All these things I will give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me. In his hand a scepter appeared, wrought gold winding up a graceful swanlike linearity. It held a glowing orb, and in it Rebecca could see the cities, the sparkle, the glow…a living replica of the same view that lay before them. A wing of the Angel adjusted softly, disturbing the light, and the scepter floated forward and hung in the air before Jesus. The Angel’s eyes did not waver. Jesus looked at it quietly. Then said it. Quietly. A bit darkly. “Begone, Satan.” Slowly the orb lowered, and she knew it was Jesus. He wasn’t even looking at it. He was looking straight at the Angel. And the orb started to change. The cities and villages melted into a pool of white light, swirling until it filled the orb. It sparkled, softly. Moving softly. Growing brighter and brighter. The Angel’s face grew dark with rage. “The Lord thy god shalt thou worship and him only shalt thou serve.” The orb separated from its slender golden base, and fell dully to the ground. The Angel’s eyes grew dark, and hiss emerged from his being. He looked at Jesus, then looked at Rebecca, and lunged at her. A flash of light, and it seemed a net, a bright, sparkling net flew in a straight flash at the livid Angel and captured it, pulling it directly into the orb. Rebecca watched its dark, shimmering form writhe, collapse, then explode. For a moment it hung, then rose, returning to its previous state, soft, glowing. It started to rotate. Clockwise. And energy separated to flow out in soft, winglike pieces, gracefully circling the orb’s diameter. The light expanded, as if breathing around the orb, and floated until it hung suspended over Jesus’ head…and the wings descended, wafting slowly down around Jesus. From where she stood, Rebecca could feel his warmth, and in her mind she thought she could hear a voice, a whisper. The Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit, Rebecca. The light, the winged light, floated down over his body, and he looked up, his eyes closing. The seemed to close in around him, enclosing him, holding him. The warmth was so strong…it seemed to radiate out from him….and the scene didn’t change, it just rotated. The entire landscape started to move, and Rebecca felt as if she could feel the movement of the Earth. The soft rotation of the Earth. And the Earth was warmth. And the warmth radiated out forever, enveloping the cities, the mountain, the sky, the Universe itself. And they moved, in concert. And Rebecca herself felt it was love. It was love. It stretched into forever. And the orb swelled quietly, spinning slowly, the warmth subsiding into a soft pulse. The Earth, the sky, everything around them seemed to hear its silent voice, subsiding as well. The warmth remained, a softness in the air. Jesus looked out over the landscape, and for a moment, she felt as if they were part of everything. He was feeling everything…and he whispered, and it seemed a voice in everything. “I love you, God.” Just silence. The pulse of silence, the pulse of love, the sound, the heartbeat of sound, the voice of God, holding, holding. It held. Jesus opened his eyes. They were held. And he spoke. To her. “I’m glad you were here.” They were held. And she couldn’t remember, when she left that dream. But when she woke up, she wrote it down. She wrote it down. They were held. By God.
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