Chaper 11

                                 TO AMBER:  REFLECTIVE COMPRESSION

                                                    Written By: Rashon Leyf

            Maybe some people think that letters exchanged between lovers should always concern only the love affairs of those lovers. But you know, I don’t think that’s written in stone. And I can’t speak for John’s letters to Renni, but I’m sure he’ll employ a tact similar to mine when he writes them. And, frankly, Ralph has told John and I that everyone knows that I love Amber and that John loves Renni, but not everyone knows what effects those feelings have brought to bear upon the two of us.

And thus, let me say, Amber, it’s late at night – well beyond the dividing hour of days. And I can’t fall asleep. I’m lying here in the same bed we normally shared in our apartment near the river. And I’m missing you at the beginning of this new day’s second hour. And I’m very fearful during the earliest portion of Wednesday.

            But the first time I met you I was somewhat startled by your voice. It seemed to come toward

me from the back of an empty hall. And it portrayed a portal to me through which I saw sights of

the past.

            Yet, before you ever said one word to me, you reached out a hand and penetrated through an

invisible barrier which, though I couldn’t see, I somehow knew existed between us. And your

outreach toward me breeched that façade. And I still recall your first words to me. I thought they

formed quite an unusual greeting between strangers. Still, somehow already then I sensed we

weren’t really unknown to each other. “Hello master of the students of the highway” you said. And

it was as though you’d come gliding toward me from another domain, or perhaps period of time, or

both; or, I thought, as I saw you for the first time, maybe you were from the present, but a version

of it that had been unknown to me in my current sphere of life.

            But also then, at that time, I didn’t know that probably our very lives themselves, as they’re

being lived here within this city of otherworldly interventions, are somehow symbolic of what all

earthly lives could be – and let me underline “could be,” for as you know, you and I are far from

saints! Yet, surely our lives represent the lives of the so-called “common” man and woman. And

besides that, we’re the leaders of one of the four genres of mankind!

            And now, as you can see, it seems nearly impossible through the use of mere earthly words

to capture a visual portrait of all I imagined I saw upon my first encounter with you. Apparently

some sort of force had just opened a door to a new world; but yet, it wasn’t really new in the sense

that as I gazed upon it as you approached me with arms outstretched, I saw images from the past

existing there in the scenery behind you. And some of those images were depictions of famous

events in the history of mankind, but others were reenactments of “pieces of life” only I and those

who’d been part of them with me could have known, and possibly remembered; still, don’t we also sometimes envision ourselves as backward travelers in time?

            And please allow me to ask you these questions:  When one ponders a physical return to the past, doesn’t one then sometimes wish one might step out from his or her role as traveler in backward time and set right certain or all wrongs committed by either himself, herself, or others during prior years? And, doesn’t a certain melancholy stigma hang suspended in the great hall of the past? And isn’t it so shockingly real to see that past again; and to know friends you, or someone else knew then, and to live again with others you or they knew then? And, if one were to journey backward, and had reached the determined destination of such a backward journey, would the fact that as that one then began to “live forward” again, and knew what lay ahead, give that one an advantage over those other mortals that one would then encounter there in the past? And could one, as one then “lived forward again,” “fast forward” and bypass certain scenarios and/or spots in time which had previously been troublesome to that one as he or she had lived them the first time? And likewise, could one tell mortals alive then in the past, if they’re no longer alive in the real present now, that their souls are safe forever now within the sanctuary of eternity?

            Oh, whenever one has the opportunity to inform another of that other’s chance to possess eternal life at the side of heaven’s masters, that must be the greatest opportunity one can ever know, and the greatest information one can ever share. Yet, surely we also know that what is often instead exchanged in conversations between mortals is gossip, negativity, and the assignment of either warranted or fabricated blame.

But you’re someone who’s cheated the years Amber. And though you’re not old in

delineations of time, your appearance belies you’re real age. It makes you seem younger than you

are.

            And I love you for usual and unusual reasons. You make me happy, and I know you’re part of

a real world, but I still don’t know where you’ve come to this city from. Actually, I think Ralph Hawk

has been instrumental in your presence here. I think he asked heaven’s masters if you could relocate

here. He felt you were an excellent candidate to become both my lover, and a co-chairman of the

students of the highway.

            And if ever I mistreated you, God, or any member of humankind, I’m sorry, yet I fear I

didn’t know how to keep my emotions unknown then. And mines of memories certainly existed

within our minds already then - upon our initial meeting. But at that time did we really comprehend

the significance of bygone deeds and thoughts? And later, in the present as we began to understand that significance, did we then attempt to control the effects those past deeds and thoughts had upon our lives, or did we allow them to control us?

            And Amber, as I think of it here in the present, it seems that ours forever now will be the

hours we’ve already spent and will continue to spend perceiving, considering, and then realizing that often our perceptions revolve in cycles. But are we turning them, or are they turning us? And have we pursued perceptions as they’ve sometimes evolved into desires? And if we’ve desired some of what we’ve perceived, has our ambition to possess the objects of those perceptions become overwhelming?

            And on this side of eternity, it seems possible changes, whether welcomed or not, await our awareness constantly – well, almost - though the “status-quo” refuses to admit as much. And when

certain mortals do alter their courses of existence, however slightly, doesn’t the allure of whatever

may then appear different in their lives also sometimes quickly fade? And isn’t the final result of all

reversals of minor or major portions of lifestyles always only that all mortals will ultimately strive to enjoy whatever good consequences their choices in life engender, while they’ll also likewise seek to avoid all those considered bad?

            And just now I’m mentally gazing at a number of both such good and bad memories. And I’m trying to deduce what their real consequences were in my life as days, weeks, months, and years passed. And I’m allowing myself a prolonged consideration of those memories. And just now my entire being seems captured by certain bygone incidents. And while the content of those incidents  concerns me, I’m afraid that consideration of that content may change me.

Oh, all those years, they’re still alive! And they live again in images of, let’s say, “reflective

compression.” And all of life was so “narrow” then. But it must have been that very narrowness

which made all that existed and occurred then seem monumental. Tell me if you can really understand

and immerse yourself in an environment of adolescent trepidation and misunderstanding.

            Amber, tell me of your dedication to rightness of purpose. And, speak also please of

your realness of being, and how your very physical presence can supersede the possible control

of controlling thoughts. Alter all evil Amber! I think you can! And tell all people to desist from their

continual efforts to constrict, pollute, and simply worsen the walkways of life. Those who are seeking

their true callings in life expect no less from you; nor of course do real and true artists. And, as you

know, you and I must always advocate for the artistic lifestyle.

But, I suppose we often can’t precisely prove how alterations of lifestyle have been

effected through either liberal or conservative actions. And though some don’t like those political

terms, remember, all of life is politics in that all of life – yes, every minute, and every decision, no

matter how magnanimous or commonplace, is always either liberally or conservatively pursued. So,

tell all people to free their minds of both political correctness and wrongness as you’ve freed yours

Amber. And remind mankind that real attributes of the present are more significant than subdued

memories of conversational irrelevancies embellished no doubt by occasional gossip.

            But individual scenes of life, when viewed through the projector of reminiscence, often

seem to be one all-inclusive and fearful mural. And if indeed they seem so, then they’re alive still in

a sort of scrapbook of bygone frames. They’re black and white perceptions of the past. And yes, of

course they’re real, but they’re often framed in steel.

            And Amber, when you said what you imagined you should say concerning your personal viewpoints of the past, were you able then to grant a sort of peacefulness to that portion of time

that’s gone forever? Or do elapsed time spans continue to live on in your memory as perceived

dreadful old-time movies? God! Don’t we pay a price yet today as we live amidst and amongst

terrifying fragments of that vast earthly realm of time known as the past?

            But sometimes it seems as though certain people think I’m trying to cheat when I speak of what once surely occurred and existed. And it appears to me as though those individuals

feel that many of the mortals I’ve known, I’ve known only in my mind. Yet, if that were true, which

it’s not, then I’d be troubled if those people, whom some believe aren’t real, could “rise up” from

their apparent existences of fantasy, and demand to tell their own stories.

And I’ve always thought it better to at least speak relevant words concerning the relevancy

of any certain life’s story, than to leave the thoughts of such stories of life never realized through

either speech or prose, or both, and thus never acted upon. And don’t unknown, unrealized, and yes,

even unimagined possibilities and stories often lead one to a life of seclusion wherein one sometimes

becomes, I wouldn’t say a prisoner, but more accurately probably a tenant, or at least a resident of

some sort of mental, and often physical outpost which then shields that one from all that perhaps might have been? Yes, I think so. And it’s often lonely there. That’s a place where shadows and voices from bygone years linger. And they reverberate there as reflective words echoing down passageways of past loss and guilt.

            And Amber, I can’t hide the fact that I miss you. And I fear and pray for you. And I seclude

myself from the possibility of life without you. And it’s usually not enjoyable to live in seclusion, and

thus, I seek you. Yes, I seek your love - for life! And I want a love that’s open, not fortified behind

walls of ignorance and uncertainty.

            Tell me, don’t you believe that all who live inside a fort will seek freedom from its confines

eventually? And in truth, don’t you need to answer the prior question affirmatively? Yes, and so it

is with me today Amber. I know I love you, and I know I wish us to be together through the years,

but I also know that lovers of non-change love it very strongly as well. And both of us know that

it’s their dedicated wish that you and I fail in our mission as leaders of the students of the highway.

Therefore, all we can do, I guess, is fight them. Yes, we’ll need to fight their plans for our lives, but you’ll also need to subdue your doubts concerning your appropriateness as my potential wife.

            And Amber, you’re a girl of many faces. And although I love you, somehow it seems I can’t always trust you. And your distantness phases me. Still, any space you may place between us won’t obliterate your portrait from my mind. You must be a lot like DaVinci’s Lisa, but not always smiling. Oh, and I see you perpetually - mentally. I see you as sophistication, style, and grace. And I’m fighting for at least a place in your memory, but of course I’d rather have a place in your life!

            And sometimes it seems I’m spinning outside, inside, upward, downward, and in all four

major directions simultaneously. I must be riding upon the circular ride, or perhaps the ever

revolving wheel whose existences I learned of through reading the book “The Same Tapes.” And whenever I think of those two supposedly real carriers of mankind, I’m forced then to admit that

logic would have us believe that once motion becomes perpetual, it becomes unstoppable. But I don’t

know that I believe that completely. Yet, I suppose if one were to stop a perceived unstoppable

force or trend, the perpetuity it supposedly possessed would then be questioned by those whom we

term “the status-quo.”

            And if you feel I’m now speaking, and probably thinking in contradictions, or at least

meaninglessness, ask yourself if you don’t believe that as mortals we possess some degree of

determination concerning what our fates will be. And then ask if you really feel we’re helpless in

regard to all that will occur to and around us in the future. And what, if anything, will we do in

regard to all that may someday be said about us? Such observations and questions as those pull at

me today.

            And I believe I’m now both a reporter of those observations and questions, as well as a

fighter against their stringency. And I’ll pursue those roles through necessity only. Still, the

“bottom line” is this:  I don’t want to spend my temporal years adhering to someone’s code of

nothingness; and of course, of even far more importance than that, I don’t want to spend eternity in

the abyss! 

            God of heaven keep me from Lucifer and eternal life with him. And help me graduate from

that genre of mankind known as the students of the highway, into that classification known as true

artists. And please keep Amber and I together as companions forever.

            And Amber, I must say this before I close my words to you:  I want to someday possess

and utilize the freedoms and responsibilities generated from graduation from the students’ group

into the true artists’ classification. And I want to cling to you rather than non-change for the

remainder of my earthly years. And someday, I want to live with you eternally in the timeless light,

where, as Christians we know the Triune God is surely present, and where those of other significant

earthly religions know their deities exist as well.