By the Letter – 3 –
After a good night’s sleep, Deirdre dragged her morning out even though she’d gotten up early. There were things she wanted to finish on her laptop before yet another excursion. But at one o’clock she was on the bus again, and about fifteen minutes later she was entering the path.
Whatever that book was, it guided her by the letter, describing what she experienced and saw; it even told about the her weather. The strangest thing was how the book could predict the weather to a near-perfect match. So, in one sense she now knew what to expect, but in another she didn’t want to be too sure because that would destroy her experience, she thought. So she didn’t want to read ahead anymore. And anyway, it was an old book and the writing wasn’t always that easy to understand.
As the book predicted, the weather started off windy just like on the previous two days, with a chilly northeast breeze. Deirdre’s knee had improved a lot during the night.
Taking this trip a third time in just three days would make her know the path by now, she thought, but not quite so. She knew the way, that’s for sure, but there was so much to see, and there were side paths both up and down along the way, side paths that she so far hadn’t tried.
But she wasn’t keen to divert from her main route, not just yet. That feeling from yesterday that someone had been following her had made her curious, and she thought it might have something to do with the book. She couldn’t be sure, because how could that be? No one there on the island knew that she had the book—no one back home either.
The most interesting thing about the book (she found this out yesterday) was that reading it again during her walk or afterwards gave her a quite different experience, as if someone were explaining to her what she was seeing or had witnessed. Suddenly she had discovered more between the lines now that she’d been on the path.
“Was that the same person between the lines whom I felt following me yesterday?” Deirdre wondered.
She continued her walk at a slow pace, reading about places that caught her attention. And all along the way the book provided her with a sense, a feeling shared with the author, whoever, that was unwrapping an awareness of the place.
Deirdre felt kind of happy, like she wasn’t alone, and after an hour's walk, she reached her beach restaurant. The wind had begun to calm down, and today she had decided to go for a proper lunch and skip the evening dinner instead. Indeed, this meal made her day: a filet of sautéed salmon on a salad platter and a pint of beer, with a cappuccino to finish. All according to the book of course. When she walked away from the restaurant, her calm, pleasant feeling was reflected in the settling sea.
Out there on the lawn before the wall she sat on a bench at one of the free tables, enjoying the sun. The clouds were all gone, and nothing prevented the sun from spreading warmth around her. Deirdre sat there for a while, and the sense of someone accompanying her became more and more present. She didn’t want that feeling to go away, so she didn’t look around.
It was such a peaceful moment sitting there—no need to talk. That sense of company was all she wanted, and so she welcomed that person, whoever she was, to take a seat beside her. This much she knew about her company, that she was a she, and a mutual, gentle feeling of friendship started to grow.
After a while Deirdre felt like continuing her walk, so she finally looked around. There was no one there sitting beside her, but she hadn’t expected it and it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to check her book on this, not now, as it might disturb the feeling. When she stood up and left, she still could sense that someone accompanying her on the way.
As she walked, instead of the book, something else entered her body and soul, like a peaceful recognition of some kind. This being alone, taking this trip, getting away, could it be something that she needed to do? She loved her husband, her kids, and her life at home, but it was just that, all that other. What about her? Almost from the beginning when she began to read that book on the plane, she felt like sailing away to explore and discover something on her own. This new company she felt didn’t disturb her at all, as she knew there were no strings attached.
At one place on the path was a long set of stairs going up the cliff, with a stone wall on the right; it was there that her company called for her attention. Close to the cliff wall were some small bluebells growing, and the otherwise dark place shadowed by high trees was now lit by a few sunbeams able to pass through.
Deirdre felt a gentle voice inside her saying, “I’ll leave you here.”
She stayed for a moment with the flowers, maybe in respect, thanking and appreciating the company. When she left the place, she did so in joy, like she had learnt to know someone whom she liked and perhaps who liked her, too.
She had been shown a place in secret; she had been invited to an awareness that people otherwise walked by. Deirdre felt pleased, and when back in her apartment she took her time before opening the book to read about it.
That person was in there, all right, and Deirdre felt an inner peace developing as she took her time reading.
