Within the Nautilus

Year after year beheld the silent toil
That spread his lustrous coil;
Still, as the spiral grew,
He left the past year’s dwelling for the new,
Stole with soft step its shining archway through,
Built up its idle door,
Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr, “The Chambered Nautilus,” 1858.

Introduction: The Hazel Bone

The Emperor Hadrian asked Rabbi Yehoshua Bar Chanina:

From where can the Holy One Blessed be He regenerate man in the future?

He said to him

From the “hazel bone” in the spine.

How can this be?

So he brought one. Put it in water, it would not dissolve. Ground it in a mill, would not be crushed. Placed it in fire, would not burn. Put it on an anvil and hammered it; the anvil cracked and the hammer split! Nothing could destroy it.

VaYikra Raba, 18.
Midrash on Leviticus

Innermost Chamber

In the first and tiny chamber
suspended in a shielding sea
unseen dark of unformed eyes
how I mark these memories
with no known language
and no formed sense of me?

I grow and grow, so rapidly
till I fight and crowd the waters
till some little portal opens
to the next and larger quarters
swept along with inbound sea
portal closes after me

Poetry? Why would the first memories of this voyage be poetry. Before I even have a language, just these suggestions of sounds, intimating words with unseen letters. Maybe because there be no test on the rules, the grammar.

Words. I do not hear their sound but somehow know they possess sound. Otherwise, why arrange them so. They are ghosts. I cannot speak them, having never tasted the air. They carry meaning. Somehow I have some idea of this meaning, even though I can neither see nor shape their form.

I, of course, write this down much later when I am capable of doing so. Having gained or regained the mental mechanism of language — Having remembered a language I once knew, “English.” And having in my hands the capability and the necessary tools of writing.

I know not if anyone other than myself ever did or ever will experience this. I can only hope that I can remember the words, their sound, their impression. Their flavor. That those reading can taste of them.

Receiving these verses must mark the completion of the body. The starting activation of various systems, thought and chemistry, that would not function during the formation. Nutrition, oxygen, were supplied through a scaffold on which the body was built. So he would tell me. This stopped when the scaffold was no more, dissolved, devoured by my now completed body.

So now, there be the threshold of interconnection. Synapses of awareness. A mind-beginning. From now on expanding and advancing. Being.

By now, I can feel. The water is of the same temperature as my body. So is pleasant and barely noticed. Suspended. Floating. Near-fully filling the fluid space. Sleeping until that next chamber opens.

The Next Chamber

A snake — now how would I
know about that, never seen
nor walked or slithered around
on thatched or hardened ground
nor known earth or even green
never tasted, never been

He has two shining eyes
and an open shining mouth
looks me over hungrily
no, the eyes are but lanterns
from the mouth is where he sees
wants to see the of all of me

In my dark and closed chamber, the lights rise and fall, shift leftwards and rightwards, make slow and deliberate circles. I feel motion inside my face, my own eyes, still closed and seemingly unseeing, track this motion. Up, down, left, right, circle this way and that. Repeat.

Actually, it is checking and indeed my still closed eyes do follow it. Senses that. So, good!

It then slithers around my body, inspecting every surface. Everything in place, of correct color and temperature. The color shows oxygen level. Fluids, blood, are flowing through my body now on its internal heart-power. The scaffold was gone in the first chamber.

Now, another snake enters the chamber, wraps around my belly, reconnecting for nutrition and disposal of waste. Now begins my own metabolism. So he would tell me. I have new awareness, of motion.

I hear in the water, a pumping, and the water retreats from around my head. The snake points its lights to my face, as if to say, open those eyes. I comply. It shifts back and forth, up and down, seeing that I am really seeing, following. The coolness and dampness of the air, not warm fluid, surrounds my head. Such a different feeling. Living.

There is a signal, maybe from the other snake. Some sensation enters me through its connection. Courses around my vessels. Says something to me, unheard, undefined but definitive. Fill my chest with air. Then push it out, then fill it again. This is breathing. Seems to work. An entirely different sensation! The inrush of air brings new oxygen to my brain. More alert, more aware.

The waters begin to churn, to pump. They cause my arms and legs, before now, simply hanging submerged, to move in rhythm to the waters. Swimming though kept in position by the belly snake. The movements are gentle and easy. Repetitive. Then the pumping ceases and I can rest. Sleep.

As time passes, the exercise periods lengthen, are more vigorous. My limbs gain strength, are faithful. I can remember the sequence of motion all by myself. Repeat the motions without the rushing waters.

And then, the voice. He tells me:

I will call you Daniel. Dan — i — el. Might have been your name while you still lived.

I do not know how, but I understand his words.

Daniel. You must, must!! recall past lives. Seize the strongest memories, repeat and rehearse them. You must!! These will be your whole self, your culture, your education. You!

Those memories quickly will fade away. You must grasp at the strongest. Now! Rehearse and review, rehearse, repeat. Daniel, know, be warned: Without this, you will be among the Lost.

This message is repeated in many languages. Some of them, words are familiar, recognized from somewhere unknown. So there must be something to what he said. And to his warning. Some reason why I can understand his words and the ones that came to me in the beginning, from wherever they came.

After the swimming exercises have reached their maximum and I can do them all by myself, I suppose, the belly snake withdraws and I and my waters are drawn into the next chamber. I am gently deposited on a dry surface. The comfort and warmth of the sea is gone …

The Third Chamber

I wider belly snake wraps itself around, connecting in more places, to watch and aid in more body functions, I suppose. It is also a harness, giving my body some support now that the buoyancy of the waters is gone. A girdle.

Probing my inner being, as he commanded in the second chamber:

I have lived life after life. Try to remember. I was once a poet, a teacher of English language, at some school, a university. Stood and lectured about persons and writers far greater than myself, what I could ever hope to be. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Yeats … Books. I cannot recall enough of this time. Too distant. But the value and love of the English language and its medium remain strong. Explains much.

After this. I grew up in a Russian village. A charmed childhood despite the severities of life. A loving Jewish family, steeped in tradition. As a baby, a toddler, there was my family’s home language, mama-lashon, Yiddish. Older, I learned Russian, later on some German. But at home we spoke Yiddish, this peppered with words from our surrounding Russian and other languages.

I learned to creep, to crawl, the rise, to walk. And was taught to take control over sanitary functions (nice language for that!). So I know I need to relearn all of this now. As I would be commanded, signaled, instructed.

There may have been a lifetime after this one. Clouded, obscured. Wishing to remain unseen. The one named Daniel.

Language. I must remember the verses first received. I try to rehearse them. I cannot form the words. They somehow sound within. I cannot make the sound without. So must start small and simple. Family!

Ta … ta … tate … father.

Ma … ma … mama … mother.

My brother, Shmuel.

Sh … Shmu … Shmiel … or Shmuelik!

More words in Yiddish. Try to remember conversations. Recollections, the cheder, school. Language needs exercise every bit as much or more so than the crawling and walking which now begin!

The snake-girdle sends new signals. Creeping and crawling in place supported by its embrace. Learning the patterns. An adult body needs to go through those patterns if first starting out as I am. Gaining strength. Once mastered, walking patterns. Stronger, until I can stand, almost, not relying on the girdle’s harness. I learn to control my “water,” exercise similar controlling efforts behind. All nutrients still are injected from the girdle. But their formulation has become more complex. And its messages.

The first snake has not returned. Would serve little purpose now. There are view-ports around the chamber from which I can be observed, inspected. Must have passed, been approved. It is time for the next chamber. A portal opens, the girdle detaches. I walk through that door, on my own!

The Fourth Chamber

This one is much larger. Is more brightly lit. Has spaces for sitting, spaces for laying. Much different. There is a fixture for sitting and discharging waste. Called a toilet in some languages. Another for washing since I am no longer cleansed by waters around me, some time now. I remember doing all of this, though in the village, water needed to be pumped, brought inside if being used inside.

There is a portal. When opened, it presents nutriment. Something pleasant enough to drink. Also, something solid to chew and eat. I am told to exercise here as well. Do it without any contraptions. If anything, it passes the time. I get stronger.

I am still rehearsing those memories. Necessary, though not all of these memories are pleasant. The boy grows into a teenager. Bar mitzvah, a great joyous time, cannot last.

He asks me to talk about it. Our first conversation since his instruction and warning. Now I can participate, reply. Vocabulary from some unknown reservoir.

A darkness had descended upon the world. A foreign enemy invaded. They rounded up all the Jewish residents of the village, marched us all into the nearby forest.

They were up to no good. This was obvious. When the soldiers with their huge rifles were not looking towards me, I ducked into the nearby bush. Hid. The others, my mother and father, sisters and brother kept going. I could not shout to them. Now, beyond my sight, they were lined up, ordered to strip naked. At the edge of a trench. I heard shooting. Then silence. Except for a few moans, a couple of shots, words shouted German. Then, only silence. Only grief.

And after that?

Deeper into the woods. Deeper. What to do now? All alone, to survive. I met up with soldiers. Jewish soldiers! I was now a partisan. Two years, fighting those murderers who took all I loved, dissolved my childhood into a nightmare. Until I fell in one of our battles.

This is the strongest memory. This completes everything in my past. Sums up my culture, my being. Until the days of the new Daniel that somehow, I can not recall.

But it seems, there is more. A dream:

I am in a corridor under the sea. Glass-like walls — completely transparent and rigid, but have a feel to them, give. Like skin. The structure is supported by triangular frames every so far along.

In the pale green illumination at these depths, I can see many creatures. Large and small, finned and with tentacles. Many of these are light-givers. From my school studies I remember some light is used to hunt prey, another to find a mate. Another is used to talk. Yes, they are talking among themselves in their own language of light.

And they are talking to me! As if to say, onward, in this direction. I start walking the way they say. They seem satisfied, accompany me. They are gaining speed and I quicken to keep up with them. Faster and faster. Faster, until I can no longer keep up. They have passed me, no longer visible. I am all alone. Awake.

I guess I must also learn how to run!

The Final Chamber

Daniel, who were you and why
did your whole world up and die
did you see the holy hand
write its warning on the land
was there any hope at all
way heed the warning call

Daniel, why do I not know
you having lived within
your time and your home
grown amidst friends and kin
shared and gave your parents joy
just like any other boy

This place is no longer so warm. I can sit, lay, pace. Eat the “rations” offered. Wash and practice hygiene. I am independent. No longer need chambers. The way Daniel once grew up. An assured, proud young man.

Then … A portal opens. There is clothing and shoes. Until now, I have been, well, without them. I dress myself, yes I seem to know how! Savor the stiff fabric. Unlike my childhood. More like the denim that Daniel must have worn. But khaki, greenish if I remember my colors. Colors have been very absent in these chambers.

The fabric that felt so stiff molds itself to my body. Fits as if part of me. Gives support to my limbs, their motion. The temperature seems to adjust to the surround. Very unlike the denim that Daniel must have worn. As if alive.

As he warned, memories of past lifetimes fade unless grasped and rehearsed. I struggle for some memories of Daniel. Somehow, do not know why, never could take hold of Daniel.

You remember nothing at all about Daniel, his family?

There is something in back of it all. Cannot touch it.

Have you any recollection of what happened?

Only that he perished. It was something catastrophic. Too horrible to remember. It is lost to me …

I had also perished. Shot by the enemy while fighting to avenge my family’s murder. And my name was not Daniel, it was Joseph, they called me Yossi. My father, may his blood be avenged, was a Daniel! I never gave him a grandchild to carry his name to future generations. So it is very fitting, indeed, that in future lifetimes, I myself bear his name. So, Daniel, I will remain.

You will soon go out into the world! Leave the fold like any young man who now matures.

Yes, I no longer need the chambers.

They were never a home. The home and family you have grasped and remembered. They are what was real.

There is always some qualm, regret on anticipation of parting.

Yes. I have that much. Everything.

Know that you will likely be alone. All alone.

And I know … it is not easy.

After a little more time here, getting into more of a routine of autonomous living — I hear a shrill, a shriek. This gets louder and louder. The chamber’s exit opens. I am sucked out into some different place and am overcome by dread and drowsiness. I am propelled though tunnels of sound and commotion. I only dream the shrill, the shriek, the sensation of flying and falling and rising. The increasing coldness. Sleep.