Day Twenty Two — Guarding the Temple of Your Mind
“Did anyone see sister Joseph lately?” Lily asked, concerned.
“She went to Soléa to find some peace and quiet. She said she’d had it with all of us,” Sarah answered without lifting her eyes from the microscope.
“She says that every other day, I didn’t really think she’d go,” Lily started panicking. “Who is taking care of the dragons? They’re going to ransack everything!” she continued, wretched.
“That letter she wrote, I think it brought back some really bad memories, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts for a bit. Don’t worry, Jimmy and Jenna went there with her, she’s staying at their place,” Sarah reassured Lily.
“I’m very worried about her timing, we’ve got two days to the ceremony, and those events, however painful they may be, happened a very long time ago!” the latter started getting upset. “Can somebody go bring her back?”
“She’s a grown woman, she knows when the ceremony is, she’ll be back in time” Sarah replied patiently. For once, she felt like defending sister Joseph’s need for privacy, their close knit community and need for constant communication could be overwhelming at times. “Did you need anything in particular from her?”
Lily didn’t answer, because she really didn’t need anything.
“The wisps are coming tomorrow, they want to check on everything and make sure it’s alright. We’re going to figure out accommodations for them,” she finally revealed the source of her trepidation.
“Everything is going to be fine, stop worrying,” Sarah reassured her. Lily tensed even more.
“The Tagas cloud wants to go through one last general rehearsal and sister Joseph is not here. We’re going to have dragons fly right through the Fusion Cloud”, she continued her doomsday scenario, dry mouthed from all of the tension.
“No, we’re not. There is no reason for the dragons to be there for the general rehearsal,” Sarah tried.
“Of course they will be there, that’s the whole point for the rehearsal, why wouldn’t they be there? If they’re going to be present during the ceremony, they’re going to have to be there,” Lily started rambling, building up to an emotional peak. “It was sister Joseph’s idea in the first place, she should be here to see it through,” she pleaded.
“Fine, we’ll send somebody after her,” Sarah conceded.
“Who are you sending?” Lily inquired.
“I can go,” Sarah offered halfheartedly. She didn’t like to ask sister Joseph for favors under normal circumstances, and especially now, when she was in such a rotten mood.
“She doesn’t like you,” Lily cut to the chase. “Can we send somebody with more clout to persuade her?”
Sarah tried not to take the comment personally.
“Did you have someone specific in mind?”
“I’d say Iseult, but she’s not there either,” Lily became instantly aggravated.
“Anybody else?” Sarah kept her calm.
“How about Seth?” Lily suggested.
“Don’t you think sending Mother Superior to fetch our dear sister is a little harsh? She’s not five,” Lily protested.
“Desperate times,” Lily argued.
“Anybody else?” Sarah insisted.
“I don’t know, how about sister Mary-Francis, she’s not going to upset her,” Lily offered.
“Maybe,” Sarah conceded. “I’d still like to go, I’m worried.”
“Do you know where to look for her?” Lily asked.
“Not exactly. Her bracelet is off.”
A dragon flew low over their heads, landed on the aloe plot and started munching eagerly, with its five heads spread equidistantly around its body to cover as much territory as possible. Sarah’s body tensed up, but she said nothing.
“We’ll go as soon as I find sister Mary-Francis,” she sighed, watching her garden turn into a salad bar again. “Where is Josephine?” she suddenly noticed.
“She’s polishing up the carrot patch,” Lily couldn’t help laugh at the redhead’s constant source of anguish.
“Why are you chin-wagers running your mouths about people when they aren’t here?” sister Joseph mumbled morosely from behind them.
“Sister, thank God you’re here,” Lily breathed a sigh of relief.
“And you care because…?” Joseph retorted.
“We were worried about you,” Sarah tried to explain.
“And just when I thought I couldn’t sink any lower! Cat-brains and miss frets-a-lot are worried I’m going to get lost on my favorite planet. How will I live with the shame? Oh, wait, we can’t die on this God forsaken planet!” she kept mumbling as she departed.
Josephine had sensed the return of her owner and flew quickly to welcome her.
“Who’s the prettiest dragon in the land?” sister Joseph cajoled the lizard. Josephine answered with an excited screech that startled Lily so much she almost lost her balance. The dragon jumped on Joseph’s shoulder as the latter departed, still mumbling to herself about people’s stupidity, but a lot less annoyed.
“I’ll never get used to that!” Lily sighed, then went to check up on next day’s preparations.
Landing Bay, Terra Two, July 24th, 3245
Dear Lelia,
I was sure to find plenty of advice in this old brain of mine, but hard as I try to think of something else, this story comes back to me, again and again, and since things always happen for a reason, this looks like the story I’m going to tell.
I was born to privilege. My parents were big land owners in the Yukon Territory, very influential in the local government. My brother and I grew up with every trinket and luxury one can imagine and I’m not going to lie to you, we were entitled brats. Sure, our parents were strict disciplinarians and made us follow up on our obligations, but everything in life is a lot easier on a full stomach and with a roof over your head.
When we were kids, my brother used to tell me that we were worth our extravagances because we were not like other people, we had vision, we were educated, and we came from a very old family, one that had settled the lands we now owned. I didn’t really know what that meant, since I was only twelve at the time, but I took it on faith that I was special somehow, even though I had no argument to back that up. Ironically this is what saved me in the end.
Every day other people’s values and opinions touch your mind, trying to find an open door and settle there. Don’t make the mistake to think you can stop this prodding, trying to change human nature is a fool’s errand, but never forget it is always your choice which thoughts to allow into your mind, you are the guardian of that door.
Dunces try to keep their minds closed and listen to no one, as if that were possible! Might as well try to seal all the air out of your room and see how long you make it. It is not the content or the number of random thoughts that cross your mind that matters, but the quality of the sieve you use to sort them.
If you don’t keep guard over your mind, any idiot can change it at will, it’s not hard at all, heck, I’ll make you mad right now, I sure have the reputation to prove it! It doesn’t even need to be something true, or relevant to your life.
Anyway, back to the story. I adored my brother, who was a few years older than me, and looked up to him in every way. He took me with him everywhere and was very protective, and when we went out to town looking for adventure, people were used to always see us together.
One of those nights, when we were out at a bar, this guy approached my brother. I couldn’t tell you how old he was, he had one of those ageless faces that look strangely familiar, only to make you wreck your mind to remember where you saw it before.
He seemed to know everybody there, he made quick friends, was likable, interesting, and most important for the little spoiled brats that we were, from the right side of town. Nothing in his demeanor or the stories that he told gave us an inking that there might be something wrong with him, so we cultivated his friendship assiduously, especially since my brother seemed particularly taken with his easy style and aristocratic behavior.
I don’t know if you are familiar with the story of the frog who swims in a pot on the stove and by the time it realizes the water is starting to boil, it is too late for it to leap out. My brother and I were that frog.
The things that bothered me in the beginning were minor, and a more easy going person might not even have noticed them (you know how everybody is complaining that I’m impossible to please? Go figure a character flaw can be useful), but I started pointing them out to my brother, who was immediately incensed.
He chastised me for trampling the character of such a noble friend to satisfy my sour mood, due no doubt to my gender, age and the time of the month. I didn’t insist, as I said, I adored my brother and wasn’t the marvelously assertive person I am right now. I considered the possibility that he might be right.
This guy became a permanent fixture in our life, and when he felt at home he brought his friends, and their friends brought their friends, and pretty soon our entire existence was dedicated to entertaining and serving all of his people whenever they needed anything. I was doubtful of this arrangement and my misgivings didn’t escape the experienced eye of our new friend.
Some say that flattery is the easiest way into one’s mind, but when flattery doesn’t work, fear, guilt, strife and casting doubt will. I will never know what this guy told my brother, who valued his advice, but it persuaded him that I’ve lost my way and I was becoming an ominous influence in his life, one that was going to doom him ultimately if he didn’t cut me loose.
Our new friend never accused me of any wrongdoing, real things could be verified, he only made suggestions, offered counsel, and most of all, mounted distrust. My brother’s attitude towards me began to change. He became suspicious of everything related to me, from the reasons behind my affection for him to the possibility that I might be mentally unstable. He avoided me and sought the company of his new friends more and more. I barely saw him, and when I did, he looked at me with reproach at first, then resentment, then straight out hate, the kind one shows towards a mortal enemy.
Since none of this made any sense to me, I thought I was losing my mind, and maybe what my brother and his entourage were saying was true.
Did you ever get your fingers stuck in one of those Chinese traps where the more effort to you exert to escape the more it tightens up? My life became that trap. Our ever present friend never missed an opportunity to cast fears about my brother’s circumstances, and suggest that it was my behavior that got him into the dangerous situation he was in. You see, fear is a powerful motivator, but guilt is much better for making you do things against your will.
In the meantime our estate became a party house of sorts, where all of our many companions brought their new friends to entertain them. What didn’t get consumed, got destroyed, including my relationship with my brother. Our creditors started calling, and at first I thought they got the wrong house, because we were one of the richest and most influential families in the area, those things didn’t happen to people like us! My brother showed me the account balances, all in red, and blamed me for my extravagances and my shamelessness, and for bringing about the family ruin.
The more I tried to defend myself, the more convinced he was that his new friends were right, and if he didn’t sever his relationship with me there would be no end to his downfall. I stopped fighting after a while, and made myself scarce, in the hope that my absence will shed some clarity on the reality of the situation. It didn’t.
My brother needed money, desperately at this point, and at the prompting of our “friends” he borrowed it from some very ill advised sources. Because our inheritances had been set up separately and matured when we each turned thirty, my money was still untouchable. The second my thirtieth birthday arrived, though, it brought with it a very insistent group of people, who at first made veiled allusions, then direct threats, and then flat out told me that if my brother’s debt wasn’t paid in full, with all the dues associated with it, he would not live to see another summer.
I paid his debt, because, as I said, our inheritance was substantial, and what was left over after that would have seemed like a small fortune to somebody else. We could have lived the rest of our lives in peace, lacking for nothing, but what you have to understand is that the kind of people my brother and I had the misfortune to get involved with are not ones to leave money on the table. Their kind comes from whatever pit of hell spawned them, wrecks havoc in your life, takes all it can, destroys the rest, and then disappears into the wind, never to be found again.
They didn’t leave us alone even after we paid our debts and my brother was never the same again. All that slander, all those lies, all the suggestions and allusions those people made for years left a deep scar into his mind, one that never healed. He didn’t trust them again, but he didn’t trust me either, or anybody else in his life. He delved into a darkness that haunted his soul, turned his love into hate and his joy into pain. He hated me most of all, because I reminded him of all the circumstances we sadly had to share, so he searched for solace at the bottom of every bottle in Yukon, but found none.
If you remember just one thing, remember this: whether you are born rich or poor, you are born naked. The greatest fortune in the world won’t stick around if you don’t earn it every day, and we didn’t. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself and my brother drinking Yukon dry, and pretty soon the dreaded creditors started calling again, this time for good.
When our family estate had to be auctioned out my brother swore that when it was all over he would never speak to me again, and he kept his word. I haven’t heard from him since, not to this day.
I was an heiress, we’re not supposed to be prepared to work, my education was broad and artistic, mostly targeted to marrying into the right family and conducting social life with ease. I don’t think our younger days of lording our fortune over the town earned us many favors either, so when the chips fell, every door I knocked on, other than that of our solicitous “friends”, remained closed.
I wanted to leave, but had no money, favor or marketable skills. I was hungry. I was homeless. I was constantly terrified.
Even in this state they didn’t leave me alone, they were hoping I might have something stashed away somewhere, if only they spent enough time squeezing it out of me. That’s when I realized that they can’t poison my mind anymore, not against my will, and all I had to do in order to break free was stop listening to their lies.
I was afraid at first there’ll be retaliation, but this too is just another lie. Everything else may be taken from you, but your heart and your mind are yours alone to give. Don’t cast your pearls before the swine.
One day I got so fed up with the filth and deceit that I just got up and walked away, in my very expensive shoes, now scuffed and torn so badly that you could see my skin in places. I walked to the nearest town, where people still knew me, and kept walking from one town to the next until nobody recognized me anymore. I picked up day laborer jobs here and there, just enough for food, and kept walking southward to the warmer areas where the greenhouses were.
I wanted so badly to put as much space between me and my nightmare as possible that I would have walked all the way to Patagonia if I could, but crossing the border required a passport, and getting the passport required me to reveal my location. I found a small farm, way out in the boonies, kind of cut off from the world. The owner was one of those grouchy characters that yell at you to let you know the weather is nice.
He broke down laughing when I offered to be a farm hand, with my matted hair that still remembered the styling of a very sophisticated salon and my expensive custom made dress covered in the hay I’d slept in the night before. He thought I was insane, but harmless, and in that region they don’t fix crazy people of the way God made them.
I too thought he was fit to be tied, but my choices weren’t wide open at the time, so whatever he gave me to do, I did to the best of my abilities. Every day, after the horses were groomed and the chickens were fed and locked up in their coop he told me over and over about his cousin, the nun, who was in a cloistered order in the south of France, and I thought that maybe if I managed to get there, I would find some protection and some peace.
I had been to France before, when my brother and I were still very young, before anything bad ever happened to us, and I never thought I would find my way there again by means of hiding in the hold of a boat for three weeks, with old crackers and stale water for sustenance.
I found the convent and the farmer’s cousin, and begged until they allowed me to join the order, under the name Joseph. That’s my name now, the one I chose. You know the rest.
The point of this very long and sad story is that those people who entered our happiness and burned it to the ground never really did anything to us: they didn’t rob us of our vast fortune, they didn’t hurt our bodies, they didn’t force my brother to hate me. All they did was to seep darkness into our lives, and they carry no blame for that in the eyes of the world. The rest of the damage, we volunteered.
All you have to do in this life is guard the temple of your mind. While you keep that temple sparkling, with light shining through, there is nothing in this world that is beyond your reach. But when it’s filled with darkness and doubt, nothing has value anymore.
I live every day in the hope that a story like mine could never happen to any of you, but evil always has its ways to sneak back into the clean. I work hard, every waking moment, to prevent that from happening, but if it ever does, you be prepared!
I love you with all my heart, Lelia. God bless your path, child.
Sister Joseph
