What’s It Going to Take?

Brayden awoke with a flash of realisation that, once again, he had slumbered for days. How many times had it been? His case file at the psychiatric hospital contained many of the details. Looking around his room, he saw he was alone. The vigour he felt upon waking fully refreshed and recharged was overtaken by the memory of why he slept; he rolled on to his side and, pulling his knees to his chest, he started to cry. What had been the catalyst this time? What collection of world sorrow had built up inside of him until it was too much for him to face the world another day? Why had he again fallen into the seemingly endless sleep? His eyes came to rest on the story written on his wall, a wall that was covered in his handwriting, consisting of small, descriptive notes concerning world events and people’s responses to them. Each block of writing connected to others weaving a map through the discourse, most of which seemed to end with a large X written over the last extension of each path. He glanced across to another wall filled floor to ceiling with volume after volume of books. Mostly anthropological or spiritual in content, he had spent countless hours poring over these accounts of human behaviour to deduce the most likely outcomes of the many calamities that encroached on our spirituality. In each and every travesty he saw in the world, he tried to look as deeply as possible, more deeply than most, for the real reasons behind how we had arrived where we are as a race today. ‘I can’t do it.’ ‘You can.’ He looked around to see where the voice came from, but he was still alone. ‘Leave me alone.’ ‘OK, goodbye.’ ‘No, I don’t mean that, don’t go.’ He sobbed. ‘I just can’t take this world any more. I am not meant to be here. I don’t fit here, there must have been a mistake me coming here.’ ‘There has been no mistake, just remember!’ ‘Remember what?’ ‘Why you are here.’ ‘I know, but I can’t do it. It hurts too much and they are nearly all asleep. Nobody sees the effect of the way they are.’ ‘You expect too much. Your endeavour, it is like water on a stone. The only way it will ever get through is if the water never stops flowing, until one day it breaks through and things will never be the same again. The water is almost through, stopping now will show all previous effort to be in vain. You must remember that until the very second that the water breaks through, everything remains unchanged. Paths remain trodden, attitudes prevail, then one day everything changes, either for the one or for the many, but change it will. Brayden stretched his body out again and lay on his back. ‘All previous efforts have been in vain, nobody has gotten the message anyone has tried to deliver, almost everyone has missed the message despite how clearly it was delivered. Besides, you have said it doesn’t really matter if we all leave while asleep.’ ‘That is not the point, is it? You chose to be here to do this. You were not forced and you asked that there be no way out for you should you, once again, be confronted by obstacles that intimidate you, no way by your own hand, that is – it won’t be allowed to happen that way.’ Brayden knew all too well the truth of what his spirit guide was telling him. He had indeed chosen this life, just as we all choose our lives and the challenges that come with them. He must keep his mind focused on his purpose. His spirit guide alluded to his notions of suicides that would engulf his body just prior to entering the long, deep sleeps. He had started to wonder whether the sleeping was divine intervention designed to prevent him from following through on his negative wishes. For now he just saw it as a way of coping. He would spend weeks, months, sometimes years trying to understand the problems of the world and try with all his attention to trace the origins of those problems. Somewhere along his journey he would become consumed with the sadness of the world and the hopelessness apparent for most as they continued to divide themselves to the detriment of racial wellbeing. He would be unable to continue and would fall into a long and restless sleep, staying that way for however long it took for his essence to dissipate the sadness and heal his core. He knew there must be no more thoughts of copping out, but he found the pain so hard to deal with when all he saw around him was a race of divided individuals, all trying to keep others at arm’s length from them and their possessions and ideals by any means necessary. ‘But the pain is unbearable, Morkah, it chokes me when I see all we do to ourselves. Every time I hear a news report, or see a headline, even sitting on the bus, all I see and hear is the result of the ego ruling – ruining – our lives. We actually believe everything we do is what we really need and want. The origin of the problem is so obscured by our coping that we don’t even remember what we are supposed to be doing. Very few are even remotely aware of how much we are controlled, how we are so imprisoned by our egos.’ Morkah was Brayden’s spirit guide, that entity not unlike the often spoken of guardian angel that accompanies us wherever we go and is with us whatever we do. Sadly, most people are no longer aware of their guide being with them and miss out on the superpower-like attributes an open connection with one’s guide brings. ‘The age has arrived, the message will soon be received differently. You have work to do. There are others doing it as well, but few seem to have remembered quite as clearly as you, that is what causes you the pain – you experience the pain endemic to your race brought about by its unconsciousness. You are right that we have said it makes no difference if you do it or not, but you will be here for much of what remains, so you can do it or you can increase your sensitivity to the sorrow you feel by ignoring your purpose.’ ‘What are you saying? Things will be different now? How? Much of what remains, what does that mean?’ ‘In time, in time.’ ‘But I don’t know how any more.’ ‘You have already been doing it, you are just unaware because of the arrogance of the ego. Continue with how you have been living. The return has begun, there is no turning back.’ ‘What do you mean, the return?’ His spirit guide moved from dominating his consciousness to the familiar place of support just behind him. The conversation was over. There was no more information coming, for now at least. For most of his life he had listened to the voices, followed the advice and put into practice a way of living that remained connected with his – everyone’s – purpose. The further the human race wandered off into their own future the larger the disconnect, the wider the divide between its created reality and the truth became, and his way of existing within it became at odds with almost all commonly held beliefs about society. Brayden wondered what was meant by ‘the return’; he must ponder that, he thought, and ask the universe for answers.