Kitabı oku: «A Night In Annwn», sayfa 3

4 ANNWN

When William had closed the door behind him, he turned to see Sarah standing in the middle of a huge expanse of earthen-red nothingness. She was smiling at him quizzically, obviously waiting for something.

“Is this it, Annwn?” he asked.

“Yes, why, what were expecting?” she asked.

“I don’t know, I didn’t know what to expect...”

“So, you see nothing, eh? Go on, what do you see? Tell me…”

“As you say, nothing, just a reddish darkness”.

“A lot of visitors say that. Others say that they see a medieval scene or a kind of Nordic Valhalla...”

“Medieval? Yes... wow!” And there it was before him. They were standing in the courtyard of a subterranean medieval castle with market stalls, horses, cattle, sheep, dogs, adults and children.

“That’s amazing! Where did all this come from?”

“It and they were here all the time doing what they are doing now, it is just that you couldn’t see them because you were not expecting to see them. Now you know that they are here, they will live their lives before your eyes and you yours before theirs”.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this now. Where does the light come from?”

“From your imagination, or look for it and you will see plenty of sources of light. Your imagination will probably see them as torches, windows or even skylights”.

“Yes, I see them now, but if they are not the true sources of the light what are?”

“Think about it... Well?”

“The mountains don’t exist and our world... Ah, got you! So, there is nothing to block the sunlight... Right!”

“There is nothing to block the sunlight, that is true, but the sun doesn’t exist in our world either and we don’t need light to see by. People create it with their imaginations because they think that they need it, or ought to have it, or because it comforts them or reminds them of their Earthly existence. It’s silly really, but then people are silly, aren’t they? Aren’t we? I should say, because every single one of us finds ourselves doing or creating something pointless just because it used to be so.

“Like those people shopping for food and those people selling it. Just tell me what they think they need money for in the Afterlife? It’s the same with those men drinking in the tavern across the square. They are having a great time talking with their friends, but they haven’t realised yet that they don’t need to drink beer, or ale, in order to do that anymore. They simply don’t have the body parts anymore that alcohol affects... and they would know that, if they bothered to think about it, but they are stuck in a rut, a harmless one though it is”.

“They are not hurting anyone, are they, so where’s the harm?”

“Oh, no harm to anyone, just no use either. You see, you can’t really harm anyone but yourself here. They are wasting their own time”.

“Oh, come on! A few hours drinking pointless beer and having a laugh with your mates is not going to play havoc with their Spiritual development, surely!”

“I quite agree. I am not against having fun with friends or even drinking beer with them, but you don’t know how long they have been sitting there. It could be five hundred years. Like potty Henry. In five hundred years, you might normally live two, three or even five lives in a body. That is a lot of experience to throw away... Or just think of how much good they could have done. It is not hurting anyone; it is just a sad waste... that’s all”.

“Yes, when you put it like that, I can seem what you mean. At least on the Surface, we have a few beers, get drunk and go home... five hundred years is a long time...”

“To be honest, I don’t know how long that particular group of men has been sitting there, but you hear things, you know... and as for drinking on the Surface, overindulgence is a bad thing wherever it occurs.

“Anyway, enough of that for now. Would you like to look around this place, Willy?”

“What do you call ‘this place’, Sarah, and how big is it? It doesn’t look big enough to hold thousands of years of souls, if that word is acceptable”.

“Yes, ‘souls’ is a good word. I can see that you still haven’t quite grasped the concepts yet, but never mind. We all travel at our own speed. Most of us here, let’s call it Wales, call this place either Annwn or the Other World, once they have been here a while, although they might have other names for it before they arrive. This actual spot in Annwn is like the capital city of Annwn and it is called Annwn too. As to its size, I shouldn’t think that anyone knows exactly how big it is. It is always big enough for the number of people who want to be here.

“However, that number may be a lot fewer than you imagine, because people are being reborn all the time, and some just move on. Another thing is that I might look to you like the wife of five foot five and eight stone that you used to live with, but I don’t actually take up any space. I just look as if I do, but that is an illusion, as I told you before.

“Everything and everyone, or their forms at least, are all illusion to make it easier for newcomers... and the drinkers, shoppers and merchants haven’t advanced far enough to realise that what they are doing is, well, silly and pointless. Does that make it any clearer?”

“I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it. I certainly do envy those men though. I could murder a pint and a Ploughman’s Lunch”.

“It would be something to tell the boys down the Bryn Teg, wouldn’t it, that I had a pint and a Ploughman’s Lunch in Heaven with my wife. Come on!”

They crossed the square and entered the bar, the front wall of which opened onto the courtyard. The five men who were sitting at the table, which they had to shuffle past to get to an empty one eyed him suspiciously and her lasciviously. They sat next to each other facing the open wall. The landlord was soon with them.

“Good day, sir, mistress. What will it be?”

“Sarah?”

“Oh, nothing for me thanks. I couldn’t eat or drink a thing”.

“Oh, yes, right, I see. Um, I’ll have a pint of your best bitter, please landlord and a Ploughman’s Lunch”.

“Bitter?”

“He means ale”, said Sarah.

“Ale I got, but what is a Ploughman’s Lunch? It’s not some fancy Cavalier foreign muck, is it? I don’t serve no Cavaliers in ‘ere. We’s all Roundheads true to a man and I don’t want no fighting in ‘ere. If you’re a Cavalier I’ll ask you and your lady to kindly take your custom elsewhere”.

“We are not Cavaliers, my good man” said Sarah. “We are loyal Roundheads too, a Ploughman’s Lunch, is what our daughter used to call bread, cheese, onion, an apple, and whatever else you happen to have. It’s just our family’s pet name for it”.

“Oh, in that case, I’ll see what the missus can rustle up”.

The five men at the table were staring at them, but went back to talking in a huddle when the landlord left.

“Roundheads and bloody Cavaliers? That was Oliver Cromwell wasn’t it? You were right, nearly five hundred years ago”.

“Yes, as I said, word gets around, you know”.

A few minutes later, the landlord put an earthenware pint pot of foaming beer and a wooden platter of food in front of them. Is that your ploughman’s”.

“Yes, it’s perfect, thank you”.

“I’ll have to remember that, a Ploughman’s Lunch. That’ll be thre’pence then, please, sir”.

He looked at Sarah forlornly.

“I didn’t think! Money! I haven’t got any!”

“Yes, you have. Look in your britches’ pocket, I saw three shiny new pennies in there this morning”.

He put his hand in his pocket and felt a few familiar coins. He took them out and gave them to the waiting landlord. They were both relieved.

William ate his lunch and drank his beer while his wife looked on smiling, shaking her head from time to time.

“This is gorgeous! It’s the best pint and best food I’ve ever had..., er, since you came here, I mean, my dear”.

“Flatterer! Come on let’s get out of this time warp, I find it depressing, cloying, and awfully sad, don’t you?”

“No, I quite liked it in here. If I’d been on my own I think I would have joined that bunch of lads and asked how the war was going”.

“A war that has been over for four hundred and sixty-five years or so? Fascinating? I’m sure. You probably know more about it than they do. What would you like to see now?”

“Is there a chapel? No, silly question, but I have always liked a nice church”.

“Why is it a silly question? If we’ve got pubs, it follows that we would have churches as well”.

“All right, lead on, Sarah”.

They crossed the courtyard again and stood before a Gothic Church that he had not noticed previously.

“Don’t tell me, you hadn’t seen it. That is something you will have to get used to. We have many churches and chapels of all denominations here, but this is the one that I think you will like the best”.

“You know me well, Sarah. I don’t hold with places of worship being over ostentatious. Let’s take a look inside”.

William held the door open and followed her in. It was a typical Welsh city chapel of the mid-Nineteenth Century. The kind that William would have liked to visit on a rare trip to Cardiff or one of the other cities. He motioned Sarah to sit in a pew at the back and took the place in. There were three people praying at the front, but they didn’t pay him any attention, although he was more interested in the stained-glass windows anyway. The larger window was of Jesus on the Cross and the smaller of Mary and Child.

“There’s a lovely peaceful atmosphere in here”, he said. “Very nice. It never crossed my mind that people would be praying in Heaven though”.

“You would be surprised what goes on here”, she replied. “A lot of people sitting in churches don’t even know that they are dead. I mean that goes for a lot of people in general, but a lot of the old God-fearing types are the worst. Some know that they have passed over, but can’t understand why they haven’t met St. Peter at a Gate. Others sit on clouds playing harps waiting to be called. It’s enough to drive you to despair. They are worse than the Roundheads drinking over there.

“At least they don’t know that they have passed on. They were probably killed by an explosion or a cannonball they didn’t see coming and haven’t worked out what has happened to them yet. Whereas a lot of the faithful old church-goers do know that they have passed on, but can’t believe that it is not like their priest told them it would be. And before you guess it, the priests, the monks, the nuns and the popes are the worst.

“We’ve got thousands of them sitting around shaking their heads wondering why they haven’t been called yet. They have a lot to answer for. They lived a distorted life and convinced thousands of millions of others to do the same. It creates a great deal of work for us, you know”.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, but you’ve lost me again. I know that a lot of the clergy are hypocrites, but most of them try to do good...”

“Yes, fair enough, but how can you set yourself up as a teacher if you are not sure of your subject?”

“They have the right to teach what is in the Bible or the Koran or whatever, surely?”

“Yes, but they probably weren’t present when those great teachers were telling the Truth, or if they were then they have forgotten. They are teaching from books written by God-knows whom with what agenda? I’m afraid that it’s just not good enough to teach from a book that someone tells you is right”.

“So those great teachers, as you call them, did exist then?”

“Oh, yes, and Buddha and thousands, perhaps tens of millions more over the eons. The two big distortions in Christianity though are the ideas that Jesus is the only son of God and that he died for everybody’s sins. I mean, it’s so laughable that it makes even me want to swear. Those two concepts have set more people back on their journey to Understanding than any others, and there are thousands of contestants for the stupidest ideas, believe me”.

“I do, Sarah, but why?”

“Well, Jesus was a man who was killed on the Cross. In other words he was just like everyone else in that he died. Then his Spirit got up and walked away from its then useless body, just like everybody else’s does. We are all, every single person who has ever been born, a son or a daughter of God. That is why we are all brothers and sisters.

“Secondly, no-one can pay the price of the sins of another person. This is ridiculous. That means that the wickedest person in time only has to say sorry on his deathbed and everything is hunky-dory. No way! That is not how Karma works. Everyone is held accountable for his or her own mistakes and there is no getting out of it, no matter what any book says. That is an immutable law of life.

“Think about it... otherwise it allows people to rob and rape, steal and enchain their way through life, say sorry at the end and go back and do it again next time. No, whoever made that bit up was either wicked or deranged and it wasn’t Jesus”.

“Have you met Him then? Jesus?”

“No, not yet. He is a very busy man, as are all the great teachers. Everyone wants to meet them, when they realise where they are. I have heard tell that he has been here, but it was before my time”.

“Right, I see. I remember you saying now that there are lots of places like Annwn, so he lives somewhere else, does He?”

“Er, yes and no. This is one of those questions. It is easier to comprehend when you give the places different names, but in reality they are all the same place. Like towns in a country, bedrooms in a hotel or rooms in a mansion, as Jesus did say. It is easier to give each location a name or a number, but they are all in the same place or locality. Do you see? I am not sure that I am explaining this well.

“We call this place Annwn and most of us here are Welsh, but Scandinavians call it Valhalla, however, it is the same place and so is Heaven. We think of our place as being underground, so do the Scandinavians, but the majority of Christians think of Heaven as being in the sky. Other peoples think of it being under the sea or on a distant island, but it’s all the same place really, but slightly different too.

“Put it this way, the national psyche of the population determines where they think it is and what it looks like... in general, but that can be altered to suit each individual as well. It’s like, I might call a colour scarlet, another may say crimson and you may say cochineal, but they are all red”.

“So, where is Annwn City then?”

“Mmm, you are making this difficult, aren’t you? Never mind though, that is part of my job. Annwn can be wherever you want it to be. Welsh people naturally thought that it would be in Wales. By the way, not everyone thought it to be underground; some thought it to be off the coast.

“Anyway, so, generally speaking, it is in Wales. We come from South Wales, and Bryn Teg in particular, so we want it to be there, and so there it is, but someone from, say, Harlech would want it to be there, perhaps, and so for him or her that is where it would be. Some writers throughout history have told us where it is in their stories, but what they didn’t realise was that it is everywhere and anywhere and nowhere, all at the same time”.

“So, we are under our mountains?”

“Uh, yes. If we want to be. Yes. Let’s just settle for yes, it’s a lot easier”.

“I like it down here, but it is rather weird, isn’t it?”

“In fact, this is normal… what is up there is weird. Measured in Earth years, souls spend more time in the Other World, than ‘up there’, but I agree. It does take a bit of getting used to again and as you have seen, some people take centuries to do it”.

“How long have we got to learn? I mean time is infinite, isn’t it”

“Oh, yes! Time is the least of people’s worries. You literally have all the time in the world and more. No-one’s time will ever run out. That is not the problem. The problem is when people realise how much time they have wasted and what their real purpose is. It comes as a huge shock to a lot of people. One day, everyone realises, so I am assured, and most of them suffer a period of intense remorse - especially society’s self-declared ‘teachers’, the priests. They have a very hard time of it. It is pitiful to watch”.

“You have seen this?”

“Yes, many times”.

“I am glad that I have had you to put me straight, Sarah”.

“Thank you. It is my pleasure to be of help”.

“Wait a minute though... I have you to, er,...

“Guide...”

“Yes, to guide me, but what about all the others we have spoken of like the Roundheads?”

“Everyone has a Guide, A Spirit Guide, according to their interest in learning and that changes with time. I am not actually your Spirit Guide, but it is natural for someone to take an interest in someone they care about”.

“Thank you, my love. So, who is my Spirit Guide?”

“I am sorry, but it is up to him or her to reveal himself to you and up to you to listen when he calls you. Sometimes, Guides get bored when they have been ignored for a long time and drift off. They are not supposed to, but who can blame them? It is like being put on hold for an hour by the gas board”.

“So, is that a sort of job then down here?”

“Yes, but I would rather go into that later, if you don’t mind. Let’s get out of here. How would you like to visit my school?”

“Yes, sure. I suppose you mean where you go to school, or do you mean teach?”

“No, I mean where I go to school. I would like to teach one day, but for the moment that is still a long way off. In the scheme of things, I’ve only been here ten minutes”.

“To me it has been five long years, Sarah”.

“Has it been that long really? With no sun, and infinity to work with, we don’t track time in quite the same way as you do. We tend to think in terms of progress not hours”.

“It’s funny, we don’t think of ghosts going to school. Ghost School. It has a certain ring to it doesn’t it? Learn how to spook your neighbours and make dogs howl in the night in three terms. Grants available for the needy”.

“Very funny, I’m sure! It’s nothing like that. What I find funny now is that people on the Surface think that when they die they will become omniscient angels and that some other people might become ghouls or ghosts. Did I use to think like that as well, Willy?”

“I don’t remember ever discussing it with you. We didn’t have a lot of time for philosophising, did we?”

“No, I guess not. Come on in, it’s up those stairs”.

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