1064 words (4 minute read)

The Prophet

“You’re a prophet of God!” Said the old man in astonishment the next day as the boy recounted his tale to him.


The boy had rushed down to the old man’s shop as soon as he woke up. He had fallen asleep from exhaustion after staying up all night, laying on his bed contemplating what it all meant. The old man seemed taken aback when the boy explained what he saw, his eyes unblinking as he stared at him.


“God has chosen you to be a messenger. Do you understand the significance of this?” Asked the old man.


“I don’t know.” The boy said as he could feel the tears starting to swell inside his eyes. “Yes. No. I don’t know...Why me? I’m just a kid.” The boy was crying now, heavily burdened by the weight of what had been placed upon him. 


He felt an immense responsibility now, and he didn’t know if he was ready for it.


“Men have been kings of nations at a younger age than you.” Said the old man. “You can not follow God any longer, you must now accompany him as he accompanies you. You have a calling, a mission that you must fulfill. You have been awakened as the Buddha’s before you, and you now must realize this. I now know why you have walked into my shop, I know now who you are, and what I am meant to do, for you.”


The old man was now the one with tears in his eyes.


“All my life I have learned and prepared myself, because God told me that my mission on earth was to teach an apprentice. That I must share my knowledge with someone, as that person would change the world. That person is you. By realizing who you are, you have made me realize who I am.”


The old man knelt before the boy, looking up at him as the boy stared at the floor.


“You are not alone in this. I am here to help you.”


The boy looked at him, a deep sadness emanated from his eyes. “Everything feels so different.” The boy said, “I can feel the pain of the world. Like I can feel people’s emotions all at once. I can hear their thoughts. I don’t know how to explain it but I feel like I’m going crazy.” The boy rubbed his hands through his hair and pulled at it.


The old man placed his hand on the boy’s knee.


“You must first learn to love and control your own pain. Though the world cries to you, you must not cry to them. Cry with them, give them your shoulder as they give you theirs. Today I will teach you how to meditate. To calm yourself to where you have no thoughts. You’ll become your breath, and balance yourself with the vibrations of creation. This is a powerful tool that will help you to achieve a calm mind to help you focus inwardly on the present.” The old man said reassuringly.


“Thank you.” Whispered the boy. He was just glad that someone believed him, let alone was willing to help him.


“You’re not crazy.” Said the old man, “You’re just at the beginning of your journey. And getting started is always the hardest part.”


The old man closed the shop for the day. “Nobody really comes in anyway.” Said the old man. “Come with me.”


The old man led the boy into the back room and to the closed door that led to the old man’s living quarters. He opened the door and the boy finally saw what lay behind it. Giant fabric tapestries of mandalas and deities hung on the walls of the room, which was the size of the storage room.


At the very front of the room were plastic grow tents full of mist with shelves upon shelves of fruiting mushrooms. At the far end corner was a simple cot opposite a small altar of incense, statues, and crystals complete with a prayer mat.


The boy noticed two small refrigerators next to the altar, a nightstand next to the cot, and a small table with a hot plate and teapot, with a small array of dishes and cutlery beneath it as well.


“Sit here.”Said the old man pointing to the mat. “In an Indian style position, cross your legs together.”


The boy did as he was instructed, plopping himself down on the mat, reminiscent of his kindergarten class.


“Now,” said the old man in a calm soothing voice, “close your eyes.”


“What do I do with my hands?”Asked the boy.


“What?” Said the old man. 


“I don’t know what to do with my hands. Don’t people who meditate make like some hand gesture or something?”


“For now just put them on your knees.”Said the old man. “Now focus. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath in through your nose, exhale through your mouth. The object is to clear your mind in order to manifest reality. Breathe.”


The boy heard a lighter flick and he could see the glow of the flame through his eyelids followed by the smell of incense.


“Relax. Do not allow distractions to cloud your peace. When you are calm, begin to breathe in and out of your nose.”


The boy focused on clearing his mind. There were a jumble of thoughts that seemed to reverberate through to his core. He started to address each one, personally, pulling the thought to the front of his mind, and then pushing it away. He imagined it evaporating like the smoke from the incense.


There was fear, doubt, uncertainty, frustration, anger, sadness, reluctance, and anxiety. He started to breathe deeper, noticing that each breath brought on new thoughts and feelings. He did his best to ignore his own negativity.


Balance, he thought. If there was all this negative, there had to be a positive too. He just needed to get to it, to rise through the deep, murky waters at which his roots were buried. He heard the old man’s voice again.


“Accept who you are. Accept what you are. Then let go of all of it.”


The boy opened his eyes.


Next Chapter: The Light