Dichotomy

By Lea LaRuffa

Nothing is ever black or white. Mostly everything is both. Dichotomy on the other hand is the conflict between one and the other. Sometimes there are choices and control. And sometimes there is neither. Good will always fight evil, and evil will always fight good. But to have a true winner requires determination and tenacity, and most importantl

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lea LaRuffa
• Release date: May 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9780994588333

Book preview

Ever wondered what it would be like to be able to tell everyone how you truly felt; scared, insecure, alone, and lost. But we can never do that can we? The minute you show your vulnerability, is the moment you lose everything; your self-respect, your integrity, and your place in the world.

I had always thought that the truth will set you free. I thought asking someone for help, would show my humanity, would allow someone else to help another human being. And allow that human being to reap his rewards somewhere along the line.

But as lost as I am at the moment, I know somewhere in the depths of me, there is no one to ask for help, at least no one for me.

I have been wandering the streets for who knows how long, belonging nowhere and having nowhere to go. I don’t know who I am, where I am from, what my name is, or where I am going. I don’t belong, it’s obvious. I seem to have a destination somewhere in me. As I keep on heading North East. I walk and walk and walk, and seem to get nowhere. I have no recollection of my life yesterday or the day before, or the year before that. I am an empty shell, moving to the rhythm of life as it is now. And every day as I awake from a place I have no memory arriving to, I continue to head on with my journey to an unknown destination. Something is driving me; something is pulling me, what that is I am anxious to know.

I have begun to write things down to see if I can trigger my brain to remember the adventures I have been on. Where it started and where I plan on having it end. I have met no one along the way, and if I did I have no recollection of who that person may have been.

But I am here, I am present, I am. But I must find out where it was I came from, in order to know where it is I am going. So I sat at the nearest bus depot waiting for the next bus to take me to wherever it’s going. I seem to have pocket change, enough for food, and for this coming bus. Where this pocket change came from I do not know.

I entered the bus, and placed my money in the coin collector, as I went to sit down at the end of the bus. Not knowing where this bus was going, I fell asleep, with my head leaning on the window. The vibrations of the roads made me feel comfortable, and at ease. Like a baby being rocked in his crib. The bus ride took 6 hours to its destination heading North. After 3 hours the bus stopped to allow its passengers the ability to get off and stretch their legs. I didn’t really want to get off the bus, but was instructed to do so. I began walking around, and looking around, and I have to admit the fresh air, and moving my legs felt good. I walked for 20 minutes, before a man standing by the side of the building dressed in a white coat and a black cape, called me over to him.

I walked over to this man, who began to tell me the story of me, where I was from, what I was, and where my destination laid. I was told I was placed here from Heaven; a lost soul looking for something. He didn’t tell me what that something was. Only that I had an eternity to find it. I was guided, I was protected, and my memory would be lost every day, in order to allow me to continue with my goal uninterrupted, unaware of who or where I was. So why are you telling me this now? I asked this man dressed in a white coat and black cape. Eventually your memory will catch up with you, and all will be revealed. For now you will have what you require, until you reach your destination. That was his reply. It made no sense to me, and I had run out of time to ask any more questions. The bus was about to depart.

All I knew was that I was heading North East.

Once back on the bus, I fell asleep again. And began to have strange dreams, dreams of another life, dreams of floating, of being light, dreams of others floating by myside. It was peaceful, nonintrusive, unfearful, and all knowing somehow. I seemed to belong there. There was no substance, nothing which felt solid or heavy. But everything felt as though it should be. Perhaps that was my life before this life. Perhaps this was my destination. At the end of the 3 hours ride, the bus stopped again, and everyone got off the bus, as did I. Everyone knowing their destination, but me. I stood there for a few moments before I began to walk again. I was afraid, I was lost, I was confused, and I had no one to guide me; no one to hold my hand, no one. But whatever was pulling me North East, was strong. Whatever I was looking for was waiting for me. It gave me the strength to keep moving. It was the middle of the night, and although I should have feared walking on the side of the highway, I didn’t seem to mind it.

And as the sun rose again, and the moon vanished into the horizon, so did my memory. And I found myself on the side of the road walking again towards an unknown destination.

I sat down on a bench at a gas station, to have an apple, as I discovered my notes. There weren’t too many pages, but what was there, told me of my goal, told me of the man in white coat with the black cape. Told me, I was here in order to find what I was looking for. But it didn’t tell me what that was. I now had the memory of yesterday, at least part of it. I now knew I was lost. I was alone, and on a destination to a place unknown.

And as I was involved with my own internal battle, an elderly lady came to sit down by myside. She said good morning and as I turned to reply, I could just see the goodness in her. I replied, good morning and asked if she wanted a piece of my apple. She said she wasn’t hungry. She said she was waiting for her son to pick her up, and take her home. She was a member of the Cocopah Indians, the River people; from a reservation not too far away. She had spent a few days in town helping a lady die over the past few days. How do you help someone die? I asked. She looked me in the eye, and instead of criticizing me, she explained it to me. I had no comprehension of life and death. I had no knowledge of anything, aside from this tug, pulling me North East. As she was explaining it to me, she looked me in the eye. I felt her knowledge pierce the very heart of me, as though she did more than just talk to me.

I knew she knew who or what I was. Can you see who I am? I asked. I can she replied, but went no further. Can you help me? I’m lost, on a destination to find something, but don’t know what. Her reply appeased me somewhat, but made me more curious. Will you tell me, who I am, and what I am looking for? I asked ever so timidly.

Here is my son she said all of a sudden, as her son pulled up in front of us. Why don’t you join us at the Reservation, where we can talk about it some more; we have other elders who have the answers you seek. I knew nothing. The only knowledge I possessed today was from my departure off the bus. Although I knew I was on a destination to somewhere, I wanted more information. And as my notes reminded me, the information will only be retained in my memory for today alone. So the more I learned from this elderly lady, and the more I wrote down, the more memory I would accumulate for tomorrow.

I accepted, and drove off with these two strangers, on to their reservation. When we arrived there, I was overwhelmed. I don’t know why, I had nothing to compare this Reservation to. But the tidiness, and the welcoming of the hospitable people; made it a pleasure.

I entered a small framed home, where this lady resided. She asked me if I wanted something to eat, but I declined. I think I am supposed to be hungry around this time of day. But food doesn’t entice me, and I don’t seem to be as hungry as the others are.

She pulled out a sack of sorts. I didn’t know what was in it, and did not ask. She asked me to follow her to the middle of the Reservation, where others were already seated on the ground. The Reservation, although modern in characteristics retained its heritage. It was obvious that in the midst of the modernization surrounding us, the heart and soul of these people remained intact. And somehow I could feel that. I felt at ease. I felt a sense of belonging, I felt at home. Perhaps, I have finally found what I have been searching for.

As we all sat on the ground, I was introduced to 12 other elders, 10 men and 2 women. I could feel the wealth of life experience and knowledge in these people. It was obvious, and I wanted answers, if they were prepared to provide them for me.

After the introductions, the coffee and the sandwiches, and the cookies were distributed to all. I asked my first question. I have no long term memory I said. I cannot remember yesterday, and will not remember today when tomorrow comes. I write what I can down in order to try to have some memory of my life. But have no recollection or anything written of my life prior to two days ago. I met a man in a white coat, and a black cape who told me I was on a destination to somewhere, for something, but did not say for what. Are you able to help me? I have no name, no memory of anything whatsoever. I am lost; I am in a haze. I am not clear minded, and I am unaware. I know all that. I don’t know how, but I do. I need help, please, I need help. Can you help me, find myself?

They all listened attentively. It took a few moments before one of the elders replied. He said in essence we are all lost. That weight we carry, the heaviness on our chest is our soul trying to find its way back home. And until, it does, life is a struggle no matter who you are. You are a lost soul he said. Lost for 609 lifetimes it appears. You have wandered this world of ours not trying to find something or someone, but trying to find out who you are. Some of us never find out who we are, and continue searching alone, around the world. It can take years, and sometimes centuries. Memories are only made for those who have found themselves. If you do not know yourself, if you do not find yourself, no one else will either. If there is no one to share your soul with, you end up on a search of sorts trying to find it, or someone who could find it for you. Do you understand? He asked ever so patiently. I didn’t understand. I didn’t. I don’t know if I didn’t want to understand, or if I refused to understand. Why was I lost? How was I lost? And have I really been lost for 609 lifetimes? Which meant; that the lack of memory I thought stemmed over a few years, was in fact over many, many, years. I wanted to understand. I wanted to remember this tomorrow. So I began to write down whatever I could, in order to have this knowledge tomorrow.

They continued to stay seated on the ground. As though, they either awaited my writing to stop, or allow me further questions. But I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know what else to ask. I had no knowledge; I had nothing to compare anything to. I was still lost. I was lost in spirit; I was lost physically, and emotionally. I needed a direction. I needed someone to tell me what to do, and where to go; but could not find a soul.

And then one of the other elders added another brief statement. He said life is the icing on the cake. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not. We are born with everything we need. The materialistic, envious, jealousy, wanting more part of us is learned, not imbedded in us. Not a part of us when we are born. People search for all the wrong things in life. When life has already provided them with all they need. And then he stopped. Are you saying I should stop looking for whatever it is I am looking for? I asked. But no one replied. I asked again, and again. And yet there was no answer. I don’t know what I learned from these generous people. I don’t know if I learned anything, except that life is the icing on the cake. But I believe you need to know what kind of cake you are, before you decide on the icing. And I knew not what cake I was.

I stood up, thanked everyone for their help and hospitality, and began to walk away from the Reservation. I walked back to a main road, just as the sun was setting, and the moon was making its appearance. I knew I had the night to keep searching until my memory would be lost again as the sun arose.

I kept walking North East, and kept writing down whatever I could, in order to remind myself who or what I was doing the following day. I now knew my memory was lost every morning. I now knew where I was headed, and I now knew I knew not why I was heading there.

I had a choice according to the man in the white coat and black cape. I could go back home unfulfilled, uninformed, and lost for all of eternity. Or remain here on Earth and find myself; a dichotomy to say the least. My fear was pulling me back home. I don’t know why, I had no recollection of where back home was. Only that I knew it was where I belonged. But being here gave me a sense of purpose. I was intrigued every day, I was curious every day. I had an awakening of sorts every day, although every day was a new beginning, having no recollection of the day prior.

I seemed to know the necessities. The things we, as humans, all know through learning, I somehow knew innately.

As I continued to wander on the side roads of life, I met a man. A nice man, a man who said he was the Protector of lost souls. He knew I was a lost soul. He knew I was heading North East. He knew more about me, than I did. He said he knew all, and saw all. I know I am lost, but even to me such a statement seemed ludicrous. No one knows all but God. And I felt as though I knew God personally.

I hesitated momentarily, as the Protector of lost souls tried to convince me to follow him back to a village with others like me, other lost souls on a mission of discovery.

Although my internal cautionary instinct took over, I found myself believing this man. And as I followed the Protector of lost souls back to the village, I became more at ease. He didn’t seem threatening. He didn’t seem malicious. In fact he truly seemed kind. It took a while to get to the village on foot. And as we arrived, I saw others like me. It was evident; they too were lost souls seeking to discover their true purpose.

And all of a sudden I also began to remember my life; my last 38 years on Earth. I remembered from whence I came; although I had no recollection of a family, a history, or a place of belonging. I started this journey of mine many years ago. I remembered being placed here from the Heavens. Not being born to this land, but from a place far in the Heavens. I realize how I sound, even though I am only thinking these thoughts to myself. I realize I may not be dealing with a full deck. Perhaps this had been my problem all along. Perhaps, I had no memory from whence I came prior, because there was something wrong with me. Perhaps the Protector of lost souls has restored me back to health.

I remembered wandering this planet always heading North East, and realizing that I could have done that for a lifetime, and then some. I knew my age; I knew I was not from here. I knew I was on a mission of discovery. I was on a mission to find myself, my soul, my purpose. I knew all that. What I didn’t know was why?

And then I was escorted into a small room, where I could rest for a while before lunch. I sat and wrote my memories down, just in case they would be lost all over again as the sun arose the following day.

And then there was a heavy-handed knock at my door. I was summoned to come to lunch, where I was introduced to more individuals who reside in this village, others, with a goal in mind; others who appear to have come from where I did, others who had no past, and no future for now.

The Protector of lost souls sat at the head of a very long table. Although he seemed as though he belonged with us, he was different. And it was evident.

As lunch was served, the aroma of food, the smell, triggered a memory and transported me to another time, another place, a place I remembered; a home, my home far away. I could see the town. I could see my home, my family, my children, my life. I could also see that the life I am remembering was not from now, but from a long time ago. The clothing worn by those I could see, and those I could remember were from another time, a time 100 years in the past. A time from a town called Harton. A small town located on the coast North East of England.

It took a little time for all these memory to make an impact on me. I have never been able to remember anything, so this first time, was of significant importance. These few memories might give me the true direction I seek in life. If I truly came from Harton, then perhaps I still had family there. Family who could answer the questions I have carried with me for so long.

But for now, I shall keep this information in