The Reluctant Companion

Prelude

I see others sitting on the cliff edge gazing down into the Valley, hear them talking about how they can't wait to start their own journey into this mysterious place, see them searching for companions, hear them trying to get the older ones to tell them more.  I have a strange reluctance to even look into the Valley, never mind actually visit it.  It holds absolutely no attraction for me. 

I am quite content on my pathway on the cliff edge.  I avoid the journey seekers, as I call them.  My mentors despair, they feel I should be looking for a companion and should be planning my journey, but I have no interest in it.

I am distraught, an other has approached my mentors about me being a companion into the Valley.  I have said no, under no circumstances will I go.  They are wearing me down.  In fact the whole community seems determined that I will undertake this journey.

It is with a heavy heart that I have finally agreed to go.  My companion seems caring enough, but I still feel pressurised.  Why me?  Why not some other companion?

The beginning

We've heard all the stories, the advice, the instructions, the warnings.  Ringing in my ears as we start our journey are the words "you have to help each other, you cannot do it alone".

I cling to my companion's hand as we start out on the rapids, I'm terrified of falling.  The going is slippery and it takes every ounce of energy concentrating on keeping our balance.  We are strangers, we have nothing to say to each other, so it's actually a blessing that the going is so tough.  How am I going to endure this?  Why did I agree to it?

My companion is patient and very strong and helps me all the time.  There are no harsh words, no demands, just encouragement.  Apart from thanking me for agreeing to be the companion on this journey, the only words we exchange are about the path.

With practice, the path is becoming a little easier, but I cannot wait to get out of the rapids.  Other couples have been passing us, laughing, enjoying themselves and calling out to us to hurry along.  How can they be so happy and I am so miserable?  I long for my safe, solitary path up on the cliff face.  It seems so far away and the memory of it is fading, fading away like a candle slowly melting.  I trying to hang onto the memory but it's almost gone now.

The middle

We're at a crossroads!  We can follow the well-worn path through to the brambles, or we can take the more dangerous journey through the waterfall.  For the first time I'm being given a chance to make a choice.  Life here is so difficult, so miserable, so lonely, that all I want to do is die. 

I opt for the waterfall and hopefully a quick death.  Funny, even though I want to die, I'm too scared to let go of my companion's hand as we clamber through the rapids.  Why does the desire in my heart not match the actions of my body and my head?  It's a mystery I've been contemplating for a while.  Now that I have been included in the choice I am able to express this and for the first time we've had something to discuss. 

Even though we still treat each other as strangers we've come to know a lot about each other from pure observation.  It is amazing how much we have learned about each other with absolutely no discussion.   Now that we've started talking, we've also started laughing a little, kidding each other gently about the other's little quirks, like, dislikes, fears and wants.  I've actually started to forget to be miserable!

I no longer feel in my heart that I want to die, but I still would prefer the waterfall to the brambles, so we're sticking to our plan.  We let go of the rocks, we allow the river to take us, holding both of each others hands, to stop us from grabbing for a rock or branch or hand hold.  We are carried ever faster downstream, past others who cry out in alarm.  We tumble over the precipice staring into each other's eyes, our cries muted by the roar of the waterfall. 

In the fall our hands are torn apart.  I am tumbled and bounced, drowned and churned, and finally allowed to drift limp and defeated to the surface.  I feel soft sand under me, there are no sharp stones, no churning speeding water, just the gentle lapping of tiny wavelets on the edge of the beach, and no companion.

I drag myself up the beach, find a little shelter and rest.  My mind is churning, my heart is still racing, and my sadness fills my whole being.   Everything is a chore.  I've been abandoned on the shore, there are no others, no calls, no chiding, no encouragement and no companion.  I cannot believe that I am missing my companion, that stranger who had dragged me on this journey.  I miss the little quirky likes and dislikes, the help and encouragement and most of all the most recent discussions.

I had wanted death, and perhaps this lonely solitary life was death?  The instinct to survive outweighs the death wish and I find food and shelter.  I find ways of occupying myself through the long days and nights.  I stay on my shore and become one with the wavelets, the roar of the waterfall close by and the dune behind me.  I wonder what is on the other side?

Today I am going to find out.  I start out on my journey over the dune the words "You cannot do it alone" a faint memory in my heart.  Well I have no choice, there is only me.  The going is slow, the dune is steep and the sand soft.  For every step forward it feels like I'm sliding back two.  There is no one to use as an anchor, no one to pull me up.  The dune is relentless, but so am I.  I will conquer this.  There is nothing back there for me, I will continue the journey onwards.

Inch by slow inch I manage to reach the top of the dune and the view on the other side takes my breath away: the flowers, the gardens, the trees, the colours, the smells, the sounds.  I feel tears trickling down my cheeks and I'm not sure if they're tears of joy at the sight or tears of grief at losing my companion.  How I'd have loved to share this with an other.

I slither and slide, tumble and roll down the dune to the edge of the garden.  I'm still gathering myself when I hear approaching footsteps.  It's my companion!   We fling ourselves into each other's arms both babbling at once trying to tell our stories, both talking, neither listening just overjoyed at finding each other.  We suddenly realise what we're doing and shyly we part, and holding hands we move more sedately to the shelter.

My companion had been washed up much further down river, where the river met the sea.  The path led back into the garden on the other side of the dune.   Just as I had been contemplating the dune from one side, my companion had been contemplating the dune from the other side.  We are overjoyed at finding each other.

The strangeness has fallen away easily as we talk and laugh, and kid with each other.  We share every experience.  We help each other with every chore, we discuss every new discovery, we constantly encourage each other.  We are content.

Occasionally another couple braves the waterfall and comes bouncing into our world.  If they've become parted we help them find their companions.  We share with them for as long as they were with us.  We discuss our journeys, laugh about the difficulty of the rapids, congratulate ourselves on avoiding the brambles, shake our heads at our courage in tackling the waterfall.

They are always discussing the next part of their journey and we look at each other and smile, knowing that we're not ready to move on quite yet.

The end

We've both started hinting at moving on.  It seems like the time has come, to continue on our journey.  Slowly we've been asking each other questions, wondering what's around the bend of the garden, wondering where the other couples have gone.

The time is right and holding each others hands we start out again for the unknown.  We'll miss our little piece of Eden.  We've been happy and comfortable but we've not had any new experiences for a while and we're both yearning again.  It is with sadness that we leave but it is tinged with an excitement of what is to come.

This time we're an equal partnership, both strong, both patient, both encouraging.  Neither of us is the reluctant companion.  We can build on each other's strengths and help each other through our weaknesses.

The path leads us out of the garden into the desert.  Food supply starts to dwindle, but we learn how to need less.  The less we concern ourselves with survival the easier it seems we can survive.  We become lighter and happier.

We stop concerning ourselves with food and shelter and as it disappears, we simply breathe in the fresh air, the beauty of the sands, the skies, the heat and the cold.  We learn how to keep each other cool in the searing heat, and we learn how to warm each other in the freezing cold.  We feed each other with our ideas and, though the journey is hard we are light hearted and it seems easy.  The path has been leading ever upwards, and slowly, gently we've risen out of the valley.  Our journey is at an end.

Finale

I smile as I walk my solitary path on the cliff-edge.  I often meet my companion and we reminisce about our journey.  We have even discussed the possibility of journeying into the Valley again.  Maybe, sometime, maybe together or with an other.

The young ones are always nagging me to tell them about the Valley, particularly those who are scared of it.  I shake my head.  Who am I to tell them.  They might not have a companion as caring as mine was.

It is their choice and their journey and only they can decide.